#here‚ i’ll tell the tale on how your wings burnt.

[noquirk-a]

OH MY GOD..IM GONNA DIE. despite having his dreams crushed by his idol telling him his dreams were unrealistic, deck still entered the entrance exam. he doesn’t have a quirk, yes, but he enters like a fool anyway, hoping that maybe, maybe he could prove everyone wrong. yet, of course, without a quirk, it was nearly impossible to win the thing. 

but. when the robot appeared and uraraka was in trouble, deck still helped her and tried to calculate a way to protect her. everyone ran, trying to save their own life, but deck still stood there nonetheless wanting to save her.  knowing that he wasn’t as physically fit, he wasn’t able to do it completely. i’d imagine the teachers weren’t cruel and just put the thing to stop and deactivating it before the two could get hurt.

so, of course, he wasn’t able to get a single point. not even a rescue one because he didn’t even fully rescue her. and the worst thing is? everyone just shamed him for being so stupid to try and help her when he couldn’t, knowing the same reaction elicited when deku went to save katsuki from the slug monster even if he was quirkless. 

[shadowfae]

We’re all pretty aware that the tumblr otherkin community is at a huge decline; I was wondering if you have any theories as to why that is?

American Protestantism, the decline of queer oppression in North America and the AIDS crisis, helicopter parenting, web 3.0, morality politics, and  Tumblr’s porn ban; roughly in that order and rolled up into one bombshell that was a few years in the coming but nobody really saw it and understood it until it was far too late.

That was a mouthful and probably only made sense if you follow current cyberpolitical theory. For some of you reading this, as with every other hot take I have this has a chance of being passed around, that alone is enough. But for others who had no idea what I just said and need the ELI5 version, let me explain that. Buckle up, this’ll be a long one, and will go into fandom history a bit as well because it is actually relevant.

As we know, tumblr is a very American-centric platform. Twitter is also this way, but less so, but tumblr has it bad. Now, I’m ‘lucky’ in the fact that I’m Canadian and a twenty minute drive from the American border, so that puts me in the ‘privileged’ majority. (I say privileged because I’m not really sure what else to call it. Most of the information going around about politics either directly affects me or indirectly affects me approximately one or two links of contact away. Someone who’s only influenced by American politics because it makes their sister’s online friends sad is not going to be privileged in that way.)

This means that American politics and their social climate overwhelmingly affects tumblr’s social climate. This also bleeds through into other fandom spaces, on twitter, instagram, and Pixiv to name a few places; but here’s where I spend the majority of my time so here’s what I’ve witnessed.

America’s main religion, as far as I understand (from the raised agnostic and currently neopagan view I have), is some weirdass capitalistic-Protestantism that is so many miles from what the actual Bible says that if I were a betting man and knew more about cults than I did, I’d say it’s some weird fucking cult and never set foot in the country again for any reason that isn’t gaming free shipping through a PO box. If you have no idea what I just said but are at least vaguely familiar with Christianity, this graphic explains it pretty well. So we can see there’s some glaring issues with that ideal.

The decline of queer oppression and the rise of queer rights in North America, which is to tenderly include my own country but we all know when people say ‘in NA’ they mean ‘America, and Canada where it applies because the right-wing Republicans are really good in the propaganda department to convince everyone that Mexico is a drug-lords-and-anarchy wasteland to the point where even I don’t actually know what’s down there other than bad drivers and heat’; means two things. One, it’s a good thing by a long shot and do not mistake this as me thinking queer oppression being lessened is a bad thing. But two, it means that thanks to the AIDS crisis, queer folks lost a lot of first-person sources as history.

The queer elders in NA who survived are typically either a) bitter anarchists who are often POC, probably still dirt poor and do recreational drugs or b) university-tenured TERFs (trans exclusionary radical feminists). Category A are the people who Republicans have deemed worthless in every way, because racism, queerphobia, ableism, and all the other ways to be wrong and different and Evil that they can’t handle, because Jeezus would never want them to actually learn to love someone who wasn’t just like them, and they don’t have the compassion to do better. Category B are the people who want to be different in just a teensie little bit, typically with TERFs they want to be lesbians, but they don’t want to challenge the status quo. They’re fine with the way things work, they just want to be on top oppressing others over ripping the whole damn thing down and building a more forgiving system.

Now, due to all those ‘isms and the cheerfully malicious aid of the Republicans, pun not intended but drives home the cruelty of it all, we also see the rise of helicopter parenting. The invention of the internet did not really help this. Basically what you’ve got is a whole bunch of parents who saw the civil rights movement, just got access to the internet and things going viral, know the world is changing, and like all parents, they’re scared for their children. Now instead of parents knowing one or two people in their classes who just went missing one day and everyone assumed they ran away, they hear about eight homicides in the city of kids going to parks at night and dying. The Satanic Panic was another event around this time that contributed to that, but I’ll let you research that one.

This means that all of these parents, instead of doing what their parents typically did and let their kids wander off for the day so long as they’re back by sundown, they can’t let their children out of their sight. There might be a freak accident where their child is decapitated on the playground swing! Their baby might get murdered by an evil Satanist walking home from school! Their dearest darling might go online and tell their address to someone who’s got a 100% chance of being a pedophile who will show up and kidnap them in the night!

��You get the idea. 

Combine those three things I just established, what we’ve got is a lot of queer kids who have a lot of internalized shame for being different and wrong, because they’re queer, and they can’t find spaces offline to be themselves, because all of the elders who would do that are dead and/or inaccessible and their parents won’t let them go to any clubs that aren’t school-related, which they’ll never find a GSA or queer club because Republicans, ‘isms, propaganda, and the war on Category A queer adults have all done their best to ensure that those spaces don’t exist.

So you have a generation of kids who I am the youngest of. The first generation on the internet. The late Web 1.0 (usenets and Geocities) and early Web 2.0 (livejournal was the big one, ff.net too, also 4chan but fuck those guys) generation. What we were taught was: trust nobody on the internet with your real info no matter how much you like them, this is a wilderness and any crimes that happen won’t be punished or seen so don’t put yourself in a position where you’re going to be the victim of one, and everything you put online is never getting taken down so don’t put anything up that you’re not willing to have on the front page of your local newspaper.

This worked out pretty well, actually! You had kids who knew that if they got in trouble, there was no backup coming to save them. Because the form that backup might take - parents and police - wasn’t going to help. Best case, they’d be banned from their friends and online support groups for being queer. Worst case, they’d be jailed and put in juvie and conversion therapy and turn to drugs and become evil Satanists just like everyone says they secretly are already. So they learned very quickly to take care of themselves. Nobody was going to save them, so they learned to not need saving.

And then, well, Web 2.0 shifted to Web 3.0. Livejournal died because parents - the Warriors for Innocence was the big name - went “gasp how horrible my children are being exposed to the evil pedos and homosexuals they’re going to do drugs and die of AIDS!”. Which is uh. It’s filled with a lot of bigotry, and I’m not excusing them - absolutely I am not - but you can kind of see where they’re coming from, if you tilt your head and squint.

Either way, LJ died, tumblr took its place, Facebook was fast taking off, and the fandom folks who had seen mailing lists go inactive, web admins take their fanfic sites down due to copyright, entire fandoms burnt to the ground in flame wars, said ‘fuck that we’re making our own place’ and that’s how AO3 got made.

That’s important. A lot of folks move to AO3, because well, the rules let them. The rules say ‘you can throw literally anything up here so long as it’s fan content and is not literally illegal, so we don’t get taken down’. It’s a swing for the first generation internet users, those kids who know this place is a wilderness and are carving out our own sanctuary.

But. The children under us. The children for whom AIDS is a nightmarish fairy tale, for whom the ghost stories are conversion therapy, for whom know they can’t really talk to their parents about being queer but can trust they probably won’t get kicked out over it. The children who haven’t spent ten seconds without supervision except online, and their reaction isn’t ‘oh thank god I’m finally free to express myself’ but ‘if I get in trouble, who will protect me?’.

And there’s nobody there. Because we went in knowing there was no backup. And that was fine. But now, the actual adults have figured out that hey uh, maybe we should make cyber laws? Maybe we should make revenge porn and grooming children over the internet crimes? And they grew up with that. They grew up learning that no, even if your parents are suffocating and controlling, they’re always be there for you! Some adult will always be there to protect you!

That isn’t the case. It’s not. But they expect it, because it’s always been done for them. They don’t really want to change the status quo, because that means doing it themselves. They can’t do that, because they don’t know how, they’ve been controlled for every single part of their lives thanks to helicopter parenting and without that control, they don’t know how to keep their lives together, and they demand someone come and control it for them, without restraining them.

Effectively, they want someone to ensure they never face the consequences of their actions. Helicopter parents will rescue you from whatever you did, because you’re their precious baby and it doesn’t matter if you punched a kid, you can do no wrong and the other kid clearly started it.

But being queer is doing wrong. Being queer is something Jeezus doesn’t approve of. So they want to make it something he could approve of! But if it’s too off what they consider to be okay, if it’s too different and weird and wrong and evil, that can’t do, that’s still bad, and they’re precious angels, and children, and minors, why are we the adults not protecting them and letting them see it? Why aren’t we being just like their parents  but queer-friendly, why aren’t we protecting the children?

The adults who taught us were the children of those who died as a result of AIDS. The eldest of my generation knew some of them personally. My therapist’s younger brother died at 20 of AIDS, and she told me what it was like. But they don’t have that. These kids of web 3.0, they don’t have that. What they have is over-controlling parents, and the expectation that someone will always be there to protect them but hopefully in ways that don’t hurt them this time, no real understanding of why Category A queer elders are the way they are, and so much internalized shame that they have to do some pretty fancy logic-leaping to keep them from collapsing entirely.

They can’t turn into Category A queer youngsters, because they don’t know how to unravel the system around them, because they’ve never had to actually make choices in their lives and live with the consequences, because they don’t have the example of how to do it. They can’t unravel their internalized shame because again, that’s hard and they don’t have their parents to take away the consequences and pain. It doesn’t come easy to them, so it may as well not come at all.

But, you ask, if Category A queer elders aren’t around to teach the kids, then how are they learning anything positive at all? Well, Category B, our university-tenured TERFs, who don’t want to change the status quo but want to just be at the top of it instead.

For a lot of kids who don’t know how to make hard choices but want to be queer, this is an extremely attractive option. But when they go online to queer spaces, a lot of them say fuck terfs, we don’t support your hate, and they go ‘yeah okay that makes sense’. They can say fuck terfs without ever actually questioning why terfs are bad. They’re Bad and Evil, just like drug addicts, just like fairytale nazis, just like the evil homophobes.

And we saw them say ‘yeah fuck terfs’ and we were like, ‘aight you got it’ and we never questioned if they actually understood us. They didn’t. They didn’t, and we didn’t do enough to fix it, because not enough of us realized the problem. So terfs got a little sneaky. They hid behind dogwhistles and easy little comments, hiding their rhetoric in queer theory that you’ll absolutely miss if you just memorize it and never actually question it and understand why that point is being made.

This goes back to America sucking, because their school system is far more focused on rote memorization over actual logic and understanding of the text. They’re engaging with queer theory the way they’ve been taught, which is memorize and don’t think, don’t question. Besides, questioning and understanding is hard. Being shown different points of view and asked what they think is not only hard but requires them to go against all of the conditioning that says to just listen and agree and never question it, which goes back to tearing the system and internalized shame down, and we’ve established they can’t do that so naturally they don’t do that.

This begets, then, the rise of exclusionary politics. They’re turning into Category B queer youngsters, because we told them ‘hey that’s a terf talking point what are you doing’ and they never questioned why. They learned you can do all sorts of things, just don’t say X, Y, or Z, because they never thought deeply about it.

The children who have grown on Web 3.0 do not want to do any heavy lifting to make things easier for themselves long-run. They want to do as little as possible and have things get better for them. There isn’t enough of us left in Category A, because Category B terfs are very good at recruiting young folks and Cat. A is overwhelming poor, dead, and easily dismissed in the system as evil and bad, so we can’t exactly convince the young folks to listen. If all of the young kids could agree to tear down the system, a lot more older folks might listen. Change always starts with the young, and there’s a reason for that.

But Republicans have figured out, if you get people fighting, they never put together a force that can actually stop you. TERFs, who want the exact same thing as Republicans but with themselves on top, are doing this to queer youth, and Cat. A elders can’t fight back because there isn’t enough of them and the odds are against them, and the young folk like me who follow their lead.

People can kinda handle gay people. It’s not so far from the acceptable normal that it’s impassable. But you want them to handle kinky people? Gay people of colour? Kinky gay people of colour? Trans people? Those are bridges too far to step across. The original idea was to get the foot in the door with marriage equality and inch our way through with racial equality, sex positivity, dismantling ableism and perisexism (forgive me if that isn’t the word for anti-intersex ‘ism), and see if we can’t patch up the system instead of inciting a civil war over this and have to tear down the system entirely.

Well, we might’ve managed that if not for AIDS being the perfect ‘Jeezus is killing all the evil gay people for being sinners’ propaganda machine. As it stands now, not a chance in hell. So long as Republicans and terfs keep everyone fighting, nobody has the power to dismantle their empire, and they stay in power.

So then, you ask me, “Lu what the fuck does that have to do with the decline of otherkinity on tumblr???” and now that you’ve got all that background knowledge, here is your answer.

Those children who want their experiences curated for them and the evil icky content they don’t like to be gone because it disgusts them and anything that disgusts them is clearly sinful problematic and should be destroyed, are what we call ‘antishippers’, or anti for short.

They like being progressive. Sort of. They learned what Republicans and terfs have honed to a fine talent: keep people fighting, hold them to a bar they have to constantly make or risk being ostracized, and harass the people who don’t play along into getting out of your sight forever. Sound familiar?

They learned of otherkinity, and particularly fictionkind, because web 3.0 means if something goes viral on one site, it doesn’t just go viral on that site, it makes it to worldwide newspapers and twitter and nobody ever, ever fucking forgets it. They realized the following: “Hey wait, if I’m this character for realsies, not only does it help me deal with the internalized shame I’ve done nothing to actually fix because that takes work, I can also tell these people who draw gross content I don’t like they’re hurting me personally, and that actually sounds credible, and I can shame them into stopping”.

If this is your first time here and that sounds sickening, it damn well should, and I am so, so sorry that any of us had to witness this, and I am more sorry I and everyone else who personally witnessed this didn’t realize what was going on and put a stop to it. I answer asks and browse the tags and clear up misinformation and it isn’t just a genuine desire to help. It’s damage control, and my own way of trying to deal with the guilt of not stopping this. I’m well aware I couldn’t have seen it coming, I was a teenager myself still learning and no one person has that much power. I still feel like I should have done more, and I’ll do what I can to fix what’s within my power to fix.

So back to the story. This all culminates around 2016 or so. Trump wins the election, and every queer person ever knows they’re fucked, and the younger generation’s only ever heard horror stories, never seen actual oppression that this could bring. We’re all scared. We all don’t know what to do. Nobody has any answers or any control over the situation.

So they lash out. They attack others for drawing things they don’t like, for challenging them in literally any way, for asking them to reconsider the vile shit they just said, for so much as defending themselves from the harassment they just got. And when challenged, they yell “But I’m a minor! A literal child! How dare you attack me, clearly you get off on this, you evil pedophile!” and they sling around every insult in the book until one sticks. Pedophile is a pretty good one, so is abuser, and sometimes zoophile works out too. Freak is great, everyone gets right pissed off about it.

The fact that Category A queer elders were called pedophiles and freaks is not a fact they know or care about. The fact that they are quickly making every fandom community super toxic is also not a fact they care about. The fact that the ‘kin community has words and terminology and they actually mean shit, and the fact that they’re spreading misinformation faster than we can keep up with, are not facts they care about.

So they come in, take our terms, make it impossible for us to find new folks. They realize our anger is easily a power trip, because we’re already made fun of, so they get off on the little power they can find and make fun of us too, and then when we get rightfully annoyed and pissed off, they can hide behind being minors.

Then tumblr implements their porn ban, because nobody’s stopping them, because it isn’t profitable to have porn on here. Considering most of the otherkin community, and most fandom communities, are full of adults who do occasionally talk about NSFW things, and the fact that they’re just banning everyone who so much as breathes wrong, this begins the start of a mass exodus, scattering already fragile communities to twitter, pillowfort, dreamwidth, and a few other places. Largely, twitter, where you can’t make a post longer than a snappy comeback and where the algorithm is literally designed to piss you off as much as possible.

So community elders have largely left, because they can’t stand the drama and the pain of what’s happened, and that’s if they didn’t get banned for being kinky furries who do talk about how their kintypes merge with their sexuality. Most community members have also left or stopped talking about being ‘kin, because they get associated with antishippers and toxicity and it’s just not worth it. Those of us who are left get drowned out by misinformation and trolls and wishkin and antishippers who appropriate our terminology because it supports them getting a power trip, and whenever we argue, we get called pedophiles and freaks and worse.

And now there isn’t much left. I hope we get to find a better place. Othercon was a good place to talk about it, I did a whole panel (it’s on Youtube!) about what we want to do about it. But I don’t really have any answers. 

But to sum it all up... America’s political climate ultimately culminated in destroying queer spaces, and we survived, and then people who wanted to destroy smaller communities to get on top showed up and we were all but defenseless against something we had never, ever dealt with before on this scale.

One of my twitter mutuals mentioned how kinning and otherkin are now completely separate communities. It’s really the best I can do to keep hoping that continues, until nobody realizes the words are at all connected to each other. It’s the best anyone can hope for, now. I hate it. I hate every part of this. But maybe we can salvage what’s left.

[pumpkaaboo]

Here's chapter 1 of the Revolutionary Girl Utena/Neon Genesis Evangelion crossover I've been working on with @nerd-dot-jpeg! It's been really fun to work on so far! Full text under the cut.

“Attention, due to the special state of emergency declared for the Toukai region and the surrounding mid-Kanto area, an evacuation has been ordered. Please proceed to your designated shelter immediately.”

Utena stretched nervously, bouncing into a lunge with her left leg forward, then her right, before standing up straight and pulling her arms to the side one at a time, relishing in the weight of her thick black jacket. She grunted with exertion, then sighed, leaning back against a nearby telephone pole. ��She’s late…”

For once, the city’s streets and monstrous buildings of concrete, glass, and steel were silent. No cars honked in tune with the screaming of their drivers caught in a traffic jam, no neighbors shouted at each other from their windows, and all the speaker systems that usually blared a cacophony of arguments for why Utena needed countless products she had never heard of only repeated that same toneless message in perfect sync. Not even the pigeons were around to make noise.

“Attention,” the message looped, “Due to the special state of emergency declared…”

Utena pulled her long pink hair into a ponytail. Then she took it out. She kicked an empty soda can into the air, bouncing it between her feet. She made a game out of not letting it hit the ground, before finally sending it soaring to a perfect landing in a nearby trash can. She gave herself a moment to celebrate her shot, but the excitement faded quickly, leaving only a gnawing anxiety behind. Then she put her hair back up.

“Maybe she got delayed by the Angel… I should be out there, doing something… I came all this way to help, but I’m useless now!”

With a growl of frustration, Utena sprang back to her feet and started doing lunges again.

Suddenly, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She whipped around, and met the gaze of a girl with dark skin and long violet hair that cascaded down to her waist. Her green eyes seemed to almost glow in the afternoon light, and she stood perfectly still in the middle of the intersection, the heat distortion causing her form to waver like a mirage, a trick of the light. Something about her seemed familiar, somehow.

For some reason, she reminded Utena of a doll.

Perhaps it was the way her arms hung limply, languid, at her sides, perhaps it was her empty expression, perhaps it was the fact that Utena had been staring at her, frozen, for at least twenty seconds and she hadn’t blinked-

“Attention, due to the special state of emergency-”

Utena jumped, the announcement snapping her out of her trance. She glanced up at it, then back at the girl, who hadn’t moved. She took a step forward. “Hey-”

You need to get to an evacuation shelter, she wanted to say, it’s not safe here, but she was cut off by the sounds of a revving engine and the screeching of tires against pavement as a bright yellow car skidded to a stop in front of her, almost tipping over itself in the process.

The driver’s-side door opened, and a woman in sunglasses and a red military jacket leaned out. “Sorry to keep you waiting! Utena Tenjou, right?”

Utena blinked, then nodded. She stood on her toes, leaning to the side of the car to try and catch a glimpse of the girl again, but the intersection was empty save for the steaming tire tracks and smell of burnt rubber.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing I just… I thought I saw someone.”

The woman followed Utena’s gaze, then shook her head. “Well, whoever it was, they must have left. I hope they get to a shelter in time… You should get in, by the way. I hate to rush you, but, well… unforeseen circumstances and all that.”

As if on cue, a thunderous boom rang out from somewhere in the distance, as a shockwave rippled across the city. Utena stumbled, catching herself on the car. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry I had to make you come all this way at such a time… it’s rotten luck, really.”

The woman grinned. “Don’t worry about it. I’m Misato Akagi, by the way, and I’ll be your commanding officer from here on out.”

Utena nodded, climbing into the passenger’s seat and buckling her seat belt. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Akagi.”

Misato groaned. “Please, Ms. Akagi is my wife. You can call me Misato.” She took in Utena’s poorly-disguised shock and laughed as she pulled out of her “parking space”. “Let me guess: first time you’ve ever met a real live gay person, huh?”

“I- well I mean- I’d heard of- and of course there must have been some that I just didn’t know they were- but-”

“Don’t worry about it. Just treat us like you would any other couple and we’ll get along fine.”

Utena nodded. “Got it, Ms. Misato.”

“Hey, you’re getting it! By the way, I need to make a call now that I have you, but is there anything you need to say first?” Utena shook her head. “Great, this’ll just be a couple minutes.”

Utena took this as her cue to tune Misato out and stare out the window. Just over the mountains, she could see a couple of silver dots moving through the sky.

“Hey, Ritsuko, it’s me. I have the Sixth, and we’ll make it to the car shuttle train in about twenty minutes, assuming the Angel doesn’t fall right on top of us, of course. Make sure it’s ready.” Some muffled words came through the speaker, but Utena couldn’t make them out. “Of course I don’t doubt you, I just wanted to check to be safe… oh, and make sure Ohtori knows we’re on our way, too. He’s been quite vehement about making sure this one gets to HQ ASAP. Love you too, see you soon, bye!”

Misato hung up the phone with a loving sigh, her eyes taking on a relaxed softness as they returned to the road. Utena glanced at the phone, then back at Misato. “Your wife?” she asked.

“The one and only Ritsuko Akagi, the sharpest mind this side of the Andromeda galaxy. God, I love that woman.”

I can tell, thought Utena. Now that she’d had a bit of time to get accustomed to the idea of two women being… together, she could appreciate what the romance had clearly done for Misato. She fought back a pang of envy at the adoring expression on Misato’s face. Maybe someday, when I find my prince…

They drove in silence for a few minutes, barring the occasional shockwave from the battle with the Angel raging on in the distance. A blinding light cast the entire valley they were driving through into shadow, but it was gone as quickly as it came, leaving nothing but a plume of smoke behind.

Utena shifted in her seat. “I hope the pilot’s okay…”

Misato grimaced. “It’s Saionji-san this time, he’s tough, he’ll be fine,” she said, unconvincingly. The silence, which before had been uncomfortable, was growing unbearable. “So!” Misato said, clearly in a desperate attempt to break it. “From what I’ve read in your file, we actually have a lot in common!”

“Really?”

“Yep! Antarctica, Second Impact, right?”

Utena stared. “You too? I didn’t realize anyone else…”

“As far as anyone knows, the two of us are the only survivors, and we were both kids whose parents worked there. Kind of a weird coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Definitely. Um, if it’s not too forward of me to ask, how long were you…?”

“Oh, I wasn’t in cryostasis like you were, so I didn’t lose any time. Luckily, the protective capsule my dad put me in got found floating out at sea before I died of dehydration, but as a result of my experiences, I was unable to speak for several years.”

“Oh.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. It was a long time ago, and I’m totally fine now!” Misato flashed Utena a grin. “What about you? What’s your story? If you feel comfortable sharing it, that is.”

“Um, this is going to sound kinda silly.”

“Don’t worry about it! This is a bonding exercise, anything goes.”

“Well… it was a prince.”

“Wait, what? What was?”

Another shockwave tore through the car, stronger this time, or maybe they were just closer to the source. Utena cried out in alarm, and she could see that Misato’s hands had tightened on the steering wheel.

“After the wing my parents were in collapsed, but before the big explosion, there was a prince who came to me. Like, right out of a fairy tale. He was shining, and he smelled like roses. He told me to never lose my strength or nobility, even when I grew up, and then put me in the pod and sealed it. Um, but my memories of that day are pretty fuzzy, so I don’t really know where he came from or… anything else.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, seven years in cryostasis will do that to you.” Misato flashed Utena a reassuring smile.

Utena returned the smile, and then, emboldened by Misato’s encouragement, continued. “Well, after that, I decided that I wanted to become a prince who saves people just like he did for me, so I started dressing like a boy, and I adopted a chivalrous lifestyle… and well, here I am now.”

Misato’s eyes shone. “That’s so cool! It really gives me hope, you know, that people still choose to be brave and kind to each other, even after everything… oh, and by the way, the school you’ll be attending has a mandatory dress code, but one of the perks of being an Eva pilot is that you get to wear whatever you want, so you won’t have to fight the teachers on the whole uniform thing.”

“Really? That’s a relief.” Utena rubbed her fingers absentmindedly, protectively, against her jacket’s thick sleeve, enjoying the texture. “My last school had this crazy guidance counselor… I swear, you put one toe over these invisible lines people made up about what boys and girls can and can’t do, and everyone loses their minds.”

Misato winced. “Tell me about it���”

“Oh! Oh right, of course you’d know all about that-” Utena flailed around verbally once more, suddenly remembering Misato’s… situation. “Sorry, I just forgot-”

“Hey, no worries. I guess you could say we’re birds of a feather in a lot of ways, huh?”

“...Yeah, I- I guess we are.”

“By the way, how would you feel about-”

Whatever Misato was about to say next was cut off by another shockwave, this one even stronger than the last. But this time, instead of dissipating harmlessly, it was followed by an avalanche of boulders thrown into the air from when a nearby mountain had- oh dear god, it had exploded.

Misato shouted with alarm and slammed on the brakes, just barely avoiding a crash with the boulder in front of them. Several more impacted with the road behind them, trapping the car right where it was. A roar shook the mountains, and the pair slowly turned their gazes toward the source.

There was an Evangelion standing there in a combat stance, prog knife in hand, its metallic chassis gleaming blood-red in the harsh afternoon light, with green and gold accents shimmering like stars through the heavy smoke rising from the ashes of what used to be a mountain. And standing across from it…

“That’s an Angel?” Utena asked, horror keeping her voice from rising above a whisper. Misato gave a terse nod.

The thing was titanic , almost half the size of the mountain that it and the Eva had just wiped off the face of the earth. It had six sinewy arms and no legs or head, and a red orb portruded from its back. It roared once more from its many gaping, salivating jaws, one at each shoulder and probably several more where Utena couldn’t see, before making another charge at the Eva. The massive robot sprang into action, dodging the Angel’s hands and slashing at it with its prog knife again and again, but was repelled each time by some sort of shimmering orange field.

“I… I’d seen the videos, but…”

Misato didn’t take her eyes off the fight. “Nothing can prepare you for the real thing. I’m sorry you had to find out like this. We need to get out of this car; it’ll be of no protection for us if either of them hurls something — or, god forbid, themselves — over here.”

Utena nodded with agreement, and together they exited the car and climbed on top of a nearby boulder, hoping for a better vantage point. Utena pulled her knees to her chest. “So that’s gonna be my duty next, huh?”

“If we survive this…” Misato’s voice was barely a whisper; she didn’t seem to have noticed that she had spoken aloud. “You’ll be added to the rotation of pilots for Unit R05, yes.”

“Ah.”

They sat together in silence for a few more minutes, watching the fight. The combatants seemed to be at a sort of standstill, with the Angel unable to pin down the Eva for long enough to bite into it, and the Eva unable to pierce the Angel’s strange orange shield.

Misato’s eyes narrowed. “Saionji’s sync rate must be down, if he can’t get through that A.T. field. Argh, I knew we should’ve prepared Miki instead, but he insisted-”

The Angel got a hit on the Eva's face.

There was a moment of sudden, deafening silence.

And then the Eva screamed.

Giant steel-plated arms grasped at its head, metallic and organic screeches blending together. Blood-red spikes shot out of the chassis, fracturing it in several places. Misato cursed and whipped her phone out of her pocket, hastily pressing a few buttons. The face of an intense-looking blonde woman popped up on the screen, with a white hospital room in the background.  “He’s been the pilot for too long, psychological contamination is setting in! R05’s going berserk!” Misato shouted.

“We know that!” the other woman hissed.

“So what are our options?”

“We’ll have to shut down R05 and send D10.”

Misato sucked in a breath. “No… Anthy’s still injured! She can’t pilot in her state!”

“Do you have a better plan?” the woman shot back.

MIsato glared at her feet.

The blonde woman turned to her side. “That’s it then. Anthy, you’re being deployed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Utena gasped in horror as a wheeled gurney came into view of the camera. There was a girl on it-the same girl she had seen in the intersection, but her purple hair was curled into a tight roll all the way around her head, and she wore a pair of round glasses, and almost every inch of her skin was covered in bandages, some of them already showing red with blood soaking through. The girl seemed to mentally steel herself, before sitting up with a soft cry of pain and slumping against the blonde woman’s side, panting.

“No!”

All eyes turned toward Utena.

“I’ll pilot the Eva! That’s what I’m here for, right? You can’t make her do this!”

Misato met the blonde woman’s eyes. “...Could that work?”

She thought for a few seconds. “If we perform a full shutdown of R05, we could buy the Sixth about thirty seconds to get into the entry plug before it restarts itself and resumes its berserk rampage. Of course, that would be thirty seconds of total vulnerability…”

“We could distract it by sending military jets to bomb it,” Misato added.

“That could work… but there’s still the risk of the Angel realizing what we’re trying to do, or a stray bomb hitting the Sixth.”

“Then let’s leave it up to her. Utena, are you sure you want to do this?”

Utena hadn’t broken eye contact with the strange girl. Those green eyes, shining with pain and fear and despair...

“I’ll do it.”

The girl’s eyes widened with shock and, perhaps, a spark of hope.

Misato closed her eyes. “That settles it, then. Ritsuko, I hope you’re prepared to line everything up quickly, because we’re going to need that time. Utena, I’m going to need you to watch R05 closely. Try to predict where it’s going to fall, because you’re only going to have thirty seconds to get into the entry plug, where its spine meets its neck. Once you’re in there, you’re going to find Saionji unconscious in the cockpit. He’s wearing a pair of triangular metallic hair clips-those are the neural interface, you’ll need to clip them to your own hair, as close to your head as possible. Got all that?”

Utena nodded, her stance tense with determination. “Good. After that… Well, from what I’ve heard, piloting an Eva is sink-or-swim. There isn’t really any advice I can give you, since I’ve never done it myself… so try to swim. Good luck.”

Misato returned to her phone and started barking orders, and Utena slid off the rock towards where the battle was raging on. The spikes piercing out of R05’s chassis had started dripping a red liquid that steamed when it hit the ground. The metal at its shoulder blades bulged and cracked, and she could see an eerie purple light shining through the fissures.

One drop of liquid hit the Angel’s hand, and its howl of pain shook the entire valley. The hand melted away completely, leaving a stump at the wrist. The spots on the ground where the melted flesh had landed turned green, and if Utena looked closely, she could see thorny vines growing out of them.

Utena returned her attention to the Angel. Maybe, without its hand, we have a chance… her thoughts were cut off when the Angel flexed its arm, and two more hands grew from the stump. Oh. It can do that. Okay. The Angel screeched from all of its mouths, and as R05 lunged at it, caught the mech’s arms with two hands each, and began scrabbling at the Eva's chestpiece with its free arm.

With a keening cry, more spikes shot out of R05’s chest, catching the Angel’s shoulders and causing it to stumble back. The Eva took a few steps backward, panting. There was a sickening crack , and Utena could see that the fissures in its back had grown a bit larger, the purple light spilling out a little bit brighter.

Misato cursed. “Its wings are about to erupt! Ritsuko, we need those reinforcements now! ”

“They’re on their way!” And sure enough, Utena could hear jet engines approaching rapidly, Something streaked toward the Angel, and an explosion rang out. The Angel stumbled forward and whipped around to face the squadron of fighter jets that were flying towards it. It let out a roar, and sprinted away from R05.

“Utena, go! ” Misato shouted as the Eva, seemingly about to charge after the Angel shuddered to a halt, then collapsed onto its side. Utena sprang into action, sprinting towards R05 before it even hit the ground and vaulting onto its wrist, before climbing up the arm. She pulled herself up onto its back and began making her way towards the entry plug as quickly as she could, taking care to avoid the red spikes, which she could now see were black at the base.

Another explosion from the Angel’s battle with the jets rang out, and Utena cried out in alarm as she fell into a crouch, clinging to one of the fissures in R05’s armor to keep from falling off. It was emanating some sort of strange energy, and Utena’s hands were starting to go numb. She pushed herself back to her feet, wincing as she tried to massage the feeling back into her fingers, and kept going.

She had just barely reached the entry plug when a shudder ran through the Eva, and it began to move its arms into position to push itself back up. Utena gulped, then twisted the release on the emergency escape hatch on the entry plug and slipped inside, shutting it tightly behind her.

And not a moment too soon, for an instant after the hatch was sealed, she was suddenly vertical, flung forward into empty space. Then she hit some sort of uncomfortably warm liquid, and didn’t even have time to gasp for breath before she was submerged. She coughed and sputtered, but after a few seconds, realized that she could breathe in the liquid almost as easily as air. It was orange, and transparent, thicker than air or water but not gelatinous, and it smelled like salt, with a faint hint of something acrid and sickly sweet. Fighting down a wave of disgust, Utena swam deeper into the entry plug, towards where she could see a chair suspended in the liquid.

Sure enough, just as Misato had said, there was a boy floating there, unconscious, his dark hair swirling around him like a kelp forest, with the triangular neural interface clips attached close to his scalp. Utena gingerly undid the clasps, then with both clips clutched in her hand, shoved the boy (Saionji?) up away from the seat. She settled into it, and somehow, the chair seemed almost made to fit her narrow frame.

Alright, R05 , Utena thought, it’s just you and me now. Moment of truth. With a deep breath, she affixed the clips to her own head.

She was enveloped by the scent of roses.

A heartbeat later, she was nearly bowled over by a wave of sensation and pain. The walls of the entry plug around her flickered , and suddenly displayed the scene of the battle, as if she were seeing through R05’s eyes. She could feel the spikes protruding from the Eva's body just as though it was her own, along with waves of pressure pounding at her shoulder blades.

Utena couldn't suppress a cry of agony, and she curled up in her seat. She could see R05’s movements jerk to a halt as it adjusted to this new connection. Emotions tore through her, somehow more intense than they were normally. Pain, confusion, fear… familiarity? Something about this, about being so close to this monstrosity of steel and fluid felt… right , somehow. Forcing herself upright, Utena reached out and stroked the wall of the entry plug.

“Hey, it’ll be alright,” she said, in the most soothing voice she could muster, “I’m new here, and I don’t really know how to do this, so we’re going to have to work together, okay?”

The Evangelion had stopped moving. It stood at attention, and even though Utena knew on an intellectual level that it was just a robot, it almost seemed… hopeful? “I know it hurts, I’m so, so sorry. Please, just work with me here and it’ll be over soon, I promise.”

Utena felt a ripple of some emotion — was it acceptance? Relief? — and then, suddenly, the pressure at her shoulder blades receded, and the limbs of the Eva became her own. Utena smiled gratefully. “Thanks, bud. Now let’s go kill an Angel.”

Together, they turned their attention back to the fight. Two of the planes had crashed to the ground already, a third was missing with no sign of where it had gone, and the Angel stood on four of its arms, the other two flailing wildly into the air, occasionally extending far past where its bones should allow and requiring a plane to make a hasty dodge to avoid it. “We need to get it to leave those planes alone. Can you do that?”

As if in affirmation, Utena felt her attention directed towards R05’s wrist. A small gun was embedded there; not strong enough to do any real damage to the Angel, but enough to distract it enough to give the planes enough time to retreat. She lifted R05’s arm and fired.

The shot hit the Angel right at the edge of one of its mouths. The thing stiffened, and turned towards them. “Hey wait, how does it see us if it doesn’t have any eye- AH!” Utena’s sentence was cut off by a scream as the Angel charged them, slamming into R05’s chassis and knocking them both back. One of its shoulders collided with the Eva’s forearm, and she gasped in pain as its swordlike fangs dug in. It’s not real , she tried to convince herself desperately, as she felt the fibers of her muscles severed and teeth grinding against her bones. It’s just feedback, it’s not your pain…

But it was R05’s.

Machine or not, R05 felt pain.

A newfound determination welled in Utena’s chest. I can’t let this continue, she thought. I’m fighting for both of us, now.

She clutched the prog knife in her free hand and drove it upward. It crashed into the orange forcefield, sending splinters of pain up Utena’s arm, but she kept pushing. She felt a pulse of energy shoot out from R05’s core, and suddenly, the knife’s blade slipped through the field, right into the monster’s shoulder.

The Angel howled in agony and released her, but Utena didn’t retreat, instead springing back to (her? The Eva’s?) feet. She grasped the knife in both hands and brought the blade down on the orb in the Angel’s back again and again, until she felt something crack underneath the point. She dug the knife deeper, and the orb suddenly lit up, brighter than the sun—

She and R05 were thrown back by the explosion, they hit the side of a mountain, their heads impacting painfully against the rock, stars danced before their eyes—

It smells like roses, Utena thought.

Then there was nothing but darkness.

[guileheroine]

a sky full of song, chapter one

Korra, princess of the Water Kingdoms, receives a gift from her blacksmith friend on the auspicious winter festival / Korrasami royalty AU / ao3 / My piece for the @korrasami-valentine-exchange (assignment: Date A) (reposting with cover!)

“The wedding of the Earth Prince, yes, on the solstice. But it’s an opportune moment for a longer tour, we don’t want to waste the journey. I’m afraid your father can’t afford it, and before you ask, I’ve been conferring with your mother’s office. And frankly, I’m loath to request it of her after…

Councillor Panak trailed off as Korra hurried him along with a gesture of the hand. He pushed his eyeglass up his nose and took her eye seriously. “To the point, then—what do you say?”

Korra was tapping her foot under the meeting table. Prince Wu, if she recalled, was equally as intolerable as old Hou-Ting, the spirits bless his poor betrothed. But the prospect of a fortnight around the Earth Kingdom, with its delicious fare and diverse landscapes… that made her much more amenable to the whole idea.

“Around the solstice, huh? Alright. Why not.” It was a way off. She had time to arrange her retinue and her schedule as efficiently as possible for maximum enjoyment.

“…That means a tour to the Earth Empire in the spring—or summer, if Her Royal Highness prefers it?”

“Oh, spring,” Korra said in a rush. “Spring. I’m not sure I can do Earthen summers.”

Panak smiled quite kindly at that, and nodded at his scribe to jot it down. Korra returned his smile. They really were getting along better. It was nice. This meeting was also stretching much farther into the evening than she had understood it would.

The Lotus Guard at the doorway didn’t so much as blink as she pushed the heavy door open and went out. He was one of the older men, having been here long before the war, and quite accustomed to her ways.

Once Korra was out in the foyer, she raced. Her quarters, and her next appointment, were in the other wing of the palace, but she had promised to go see her mother first for a few minutes before the Queen went to bed. The winter sun was long gone; all the windows she skipped past were dark, torchlight gleaming on the icy sills. In the halls, on the other hand, the air was bright as frost, festive. She wove around decorators from all over Agna Qel’a hanging new crystalwork along the old bead tapestries and tying berry wreaths around the tall pillars. Down the stairs, in the main hall, the humongous fires that burnt uninterrupted over the winter lit the place generously. As she sped through, headed for the opposite staircase, Korra caught the eye of one of the housekeepers.

“Mina! Mina, are you busy?” She took the girl’s arm, whose eyes goggled, alarmed only at the princess’s sudden appearance but unperturbed by her familiar ways. “Could you go to the kitchen and send for some tea to my apartment? Milk and honey for me—and some of whatever black blend is left, what my blacksmith friend likes. They’ll know. Thank you!”

When she turned to continue, she was immediately waylaid by one of the ice sculptors.

“Your Highness! A moment.”

Just a moment to breathe was exactly what it took for Korra to finally notice the centerpiece of the hall: an elaborate sculpture-fountain of Yue. The moon and ocean spirits hovered above each of her hands, water pouring in gentle arcs out of their gaping mouths.

Korra’s father was pulling out all the stops for Yue’s Day. She knew, for her part, that it was a private gesture for the Queen, newly returned from a long diplomatic engagement with the northern Air court. Korra stood at attention for the sculptor, whose fingerless gloves allowed him to bend with especial precision.

“Should her hair run—” he said, bending Yue’s locks of ice into free-flowing rivulets, “or stand arrested?” Another curl of his palm froze them again.

“Freeze them. More volume!” Korra said, thinking of her mother, who always grumbled about her limp hair. Then she was on her way to the Queen’s chambers, and then her own.

“I got your tea. Hi, princess.”

Korra’s blacksmith friend took a pointed sip when she finally entered her drawing room. Asami’s smirk was hidden behind the glassy cup, and her hair was wet. One of Korra’s towels was slung over the back of her seat—one of the nice ones with the finely embroidered monogram.

“Asami. Sorry I’m late!” Korra slumped onto her divan, sending one of the cushions flying onto the carpet. “It’s good to see you.” She took a moment to catch her breath before picking the cushion up, sitting comfortably and grasping for the tray on the table.

“Don’t worry about it,” Asami said, moving the cup from her mouth, the smirk finally melting off. She pushed the tray into Korra’s reach. “I’m done for the day. A couple of the apprentices are closing up shop for the very first time.” Her brows waggled.

“Impressive! But still, thanks for coming. I know you’re working hard.”

“We had an appointment, right? And—” Asami grinned and stretched, pulling her warm wools tighter around her “nothing like the thought of a royal shower at the end of the day to get you through it, you know?”

Korra rolled her eyes. The staff knew to let Asami into Korra’s apartments, and even if she could tell they were a little reticent about her using the princess’s bath and vanity, they of course said nothing. The dogs more or less dragged Asami in through the gates every time she came by the palace, and by order of the princess, they were the ones that decided things in her absence.

Asami scrutinised the tray from the kitchen carefully before picking out a little moon pastry. “How was your meeting?” She took a bite, attentive both to the pastry and Korra.

“Looks like I’m going on tour to the Earth Kingdom in the spring,” Korra told her. She wasn’t surprised to see Asami’s brow spring up, and her taste-testing pause.

“What, all over?”

It was a town in the Earth Kingdom that Asami originally hailed from, before she travelled to the Fire Empire with her father, an innovator in the art of war. After the war’s end and the subsequent reunification of the Water Kingdoms, the newly humbled Sun Emperor had gifted King Tonraq an ancient forge for the royal armoury as a token of good faith and cultural exchange. Korra remembered how it had taken several pulleys, and days, for it to be transported into place in one of the main avenues in the city. They had set up a house around it for a new smith to eventually train locals in the foreign art. Asami—skilled as a metalworker, but bereft of a livelihood and a family after her father’s foundries were shut down—had decided to venture north to start afresh. She vied for the position and won it handily.

Korra glanced at her long. “You could come with me, you know. Take a vacation, if you manage to get this new shop set up in time. I’m sure you’ve trained all your underlings well.”

“We’re getting there,” Asami said vaguely. “But I’ll keep it in mind.”

Korra was musing, recumbent with her feet up now. “I must warn you, t’s for the wedding of the Queen’s nephew. They’re a lot stuffier in the Earth kingdom. All the pomp and pageantry,” she clarified. “I’m not looking forward to that part.”

“I’ll bet.” Asami gave her a sympathetic smile.

Sitting pretty in formal assemblies, she did not enjoy. Peace was harder than war, in a lot of ways. At least it was for Korra, who had been right at home as a strategist commanding the bending battalions in the few Fire Empire skirmishes that had reached the north. Or as a captain fending off the marauding warlords and shaman-kings in the southern fiefs who took advantage of the chaos to arouse the spirits and stage deadly rebellions. Her leadership, covert though it was, had played no small part in subduing the northern theater and paving the way for all the ancient Water tribes to be reunified under Agna Qel’a and her father’s leadership. The lasting peace of the years since had proven they were stronger together. Just as it had proven that the Princess’s patience for peacetime bureaucracy needed a good deal of practice.

“You should come. We’ll do you up as my retainer so you get a salary. I might need you to keep me straight.”

Asami was good at that, blowing off steam after long, boring days. The mellowness of the warmth, nothing like that of her forge, evened Korra’s mood like little else.

“Oh, so you want me to drop everything and trail you around as a handmaiden?”

Korra scoffed, embarrassed. “Well, don’t put it like that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Asami sat up. “An Earth royal wedding, huh? Think they’ll let me in?” She picked at the cushion in her lap.

“They will if I have anything to say about it.” Korra yawned. “It’ll be my turn soon enough.”

“How’s your mother?” Asami said, following her train of thought seamlessly—it was always the queen that pestered Korra about finding a match, good-natured but more earnest than she ever realised she was appearing.

“Sleeping. She had a long journey back from the Northern Air Temple. Dad’s happy, though. Just casually planning her a ball this weekend for Yue’s Day.”

“Hey, is that what that business down in the hall is?” Some forgotten curiosity clearly jolted Asami. “There were all these new kayaks moored around the drawbridges when I came through, too.”

Korra nodded, while tentative recognition continued to filter into Asami’s expression. It was easy to forget Asami had been here nary a year. But she had, and it had been a busy year too, with little time for exploration, per her own frequent complaints. “You know about it, right?” When Asami shrugged evasively, Korra explained, “It falls on the day of the first full moon after the winter solstice. Yue was a princess of legend—our ancestor, apparently—who became the moon spirit.”

Asami sat forward. She loved tales like this, and listened to them like she was being entrusted a secret.

“We’ve celebrated it as long as anyone remembers, but the festival is supposed to usher good fortune and fertility. I think that’s why it became a couples thing.” Korra didn’t think much of that. “But, well, the idea is to spend the evening under the full moon, which is why all the kayaks are out. Really, everyone just needs an excuse to liven up the winter!”

“That I understand,” Asami said wryly, ill accustomed to the polar night. “Yeah, I went to the market in town to pick up some new gloves and they had stalls and stalls of new fare. Jewelry, wind chimes, furs.”

Korra sat up, conspiratorial. “I bet at least one of your new proteges will sneak you a little gift. I get messages every year. Mostly upstarts, but some cute ones, too.”

When Asami had first been appointed as the blacksmith, Korra was uncertain what a girl her age was doing heading up an official royal undertaking like that, with all its bells and whistles. When she arrived at a welcome dinner with her family, Korra found her altogether too precious, and definitely not deserving of the private summons and the White Lotus escort. Especially not when the whole rigmarole was keeping Korra from her planned retreat to the kennels for the evening, where, in the end, the strapping night guards were giggling and blushing about the new blacksmith.

At her father’s behest, Korra had put on her most functional anorak and taken Asami some cakes, conserves and newly dried jerky from the palace a couple weeks after their meeting. He insisted it was a part of the Princess’s duty to look after someone in their employ so new to the land—a girl her own age no less. Down in the city, the townsfolk were pleased to see Korra as she made her way to the workshop, but no one made a fuss (unless they were young and excitable already), unlike what she had heard of the other Kingdoms, larger and loftier as they were. She wondered if Asami the Blacksmith liked that about here, or found it lacked decorum, as Korra knew some folk abroad definitely did.

Asami had a study above the forge, from which she dealt with its administration, and living quarters on the next storey. These were yet lonely and sparse, but not completely devoid of homely touches, as though she would have spruced them up if she only had the opportunity. Korra noticed well-kept shrubs and a vivid landscape on the wall; then Asami came and curtseyed deep and pulled off her apron.

She was willowy and beautiful under the gear and the soot (over it, too, to be honest), which endeared and repelled Korra in fairly equal measure, ultimately leaving her as indifferent as ever.

“My parents and Lord Arnook want to know how you’re getting on.” Lord Arnook was the esteemed keeper of the royal armoury, and he liked Asami just as much as everyone else did.

A flicker of sadness—shame?—crossed her face, then she put her hand on the table. “Won’t you sit? Your Highness. Let me bring you something hot first.”

Asami lit the fire in the blink of an eye and stoked it without watching, like it was the back of her hand. She had some bread in the pantry, over which she spread the aqpik jam Korra had delivered her. Korra watched her as she boiled the water. Her skirt was heavy, probably to insulate from the heat and cold alike, but it fell flatteringly from her height; and her long hair, which had flown in waves in a foreign style at dinner, was pinned into a practical bun. She made a sharp, fragrant tea she had brought from the continent. Her eyes lit up unexpectedly when Korra bent her own cup to cool it.

“Ah, I love seeing that,” she cooed. “I suppose I’m still not used to it. The other elements don’t bend like that. And I hear you have great skill.”

Korra’s own smile came too quick for her to suppress. “Who told you that, the King?” Then she regarded her keenly. So, how are you… Do you need anything? Do the men from the quarry treat you okay?”

“Oh, everyone here is… They’re very warm. Makes up for the chill,” Asami laughed.

It was a line so hackneyed that gritting through it was itself a country-wide inside joke. But this calm and rosy girl injected fresh, charmless charm into it. Maybe everything was charming if someone this winsome did it. After that, Korra softened considerably.

“They are,” she replied, with no small amount of pride. A sudden shame crept up her chest, that she probably couldn’t count herself among those nice people that had made Asami feel welcome.

Then Asami swallowed and the colour of her voice changed. “I miss my home, though. I know this job is more kindness than I deserve, after what we did but… It is a little lonely here.” She confirmed what Korra had already deduced, mostly because she knew the feeling all too well. “I guess I just don’t have a lot of time to go and make friends after work.”

Korra didn’t doubt that; it was hard, physical work. The one or two times she’d witnessed it, the clang rang in her ears for hours afterwards. She wouldn’t have pegged a girl like this for it. Asami reminded her more of some of the young ladies she knew from her old classes, when all the children around the court would be dumped into the royal healing hut together for some hands-on learning.

“Have you been beyond the city yet? The land out there… that’s our land. This is just a fortress.”

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to,” Asami said, wistful. “Pretty sure I can’t go on foot though.”

“Well, if… if you don’t know anyone else, I could take you. I have the best dogs in the Four Kingdoms.”

Before the month was up, Korra had sent a commission to the Queen’s personal seamstress for some sealskin gloves and winter-grade furs. She gifted them to Asami on her birthday. “You need these anyway, I think, but you’ll definitely need them where we’re going.” And that night, Korra took her to see the aurora.

There was a hamlet a few miles north of Agna Qel’a where Korra knew the elderly chief and had asked her for passage to an outcrop in their territory, after divining the well kept secret that it was one of the prime spots for watching the sky dance. Asami, enchanted, never took her eyes off it—so unflinching that Korra almost began to feel envious of the lights.

It became a routine. Korra knew every inch of her realm. If a diplomatic mission sent her to one tribe or settlement, she would be sure to take a day or two exploring the local country before she returned to the capitol. It had been a great boon when the southern tribes first came under their stewardship. The Princess spent time in every village, took interest in their land and in their lore; met challenges of the wilds and the weather with hunger, and any unknowns thereof with abiding curiosity. She knew what to wear, which sled or boat to take. When to find the rarest whale pods before they went south; where the starriest cliffs were, and the sunniest lakes.

All of which impressed Asami a great deal, and that made Korra happier than most things. And no worse were the days they spent in her apartments going over the sordid palace gossip, or in her apartments tracing old scars by lamplight, healing them word by gentle word.

On Yue’s Day, Korra stopped by to see various palace aides located around the city with customary gifts. In a castle town, there were plenty with such connections, and she relished the ruddy smiles, quick drinks, and flustered curtsies she received in turn. She saved Asami for last, because Asami had asked for some time together. Korra entered the smithy by the front, her senses clogging with immediate heat. Two of the apprentices were there: one of them gaped while the other barely blinked.

“Asami? I come bearing punch… and those moon pastries you like!”

She commenced the usual ritual of announcing her presence over the steam and noise while peeling off all but a couple of her layers, when Asami emerged out of the back. She was squeezing her hands together in excitement.

“No, no, no, don’t,” she urged, a gleam in her eyes like the blades that hung behind her, “we’re going somewhere.”

A few minutes later, they were walking along the main canal under the sparkling lights, milling through the townspeople. A fresh drift crunched beneath their boots. In a few more, they were alighting one of the kayaks in the dock.

Asami faced her and paddled like a natural; and naturally, Korra gaped.

“Do not tell me you haven’t done this before!”

Asami’s tongue stuck out in concentration as she suppressed a giggle, but her limbs moved with finesse. “Just the once. So far. Don’t be distracting me.”

“I won’t let us capsize,” Korra assured her.

Eventually, Asami settled into her rhythm, and the canal carried them out of the city, past all the lights. The banks of glass-cut brick gave way to a more jagged channel littered with pack ice at its mouth, floating blue and still. Korra gripped the edge of the kayak, not for any physical comfort. A crackling anticipation, and an unnameable fondness both, were welling and welling in her with every mundane word they shared.

When they disembarked on the lake’s other edge, the ice was landfast: a ghostly field glowing under the full moon.

Korra knew this place, but she had scarcely been here in the middle of winter, when the ice field extended endlessly, as vast as the sky. As they tramped across the snow, she began to wonder what Asami’s surprise was. There wasn’t much for a mile in any direction.

“We should sit for this,” Asami said, pointedly ignoring Korra’s prying questions.

The wind had kicked the snow up into berms along the field. Korra froze one so it was sturdy enough to perch on. Then Asami took her pack, and pulled out some plain tubes of parchment; nothing Korra would have looked at twice, although she didn’t know what they were.

“What’s in there?” She said.

“Some of my metals, some of my salts,” Asami replied enigmatically, almost sing-song. “Wait here.”

She heaved herself off the berm, ran several yards towards the horizon and stooped. She planted the tubes, and did something else Korra couldn’t see, though she thought she recognised the bright filigree on the cover of the pocket matchbook Asami carried everywhere.

When Asami had trundled back and sat again, Korra crossed her arms and laughed, bemused, her humour ebbing. “Are you going to tell me what’s going—”

BOOM!

Korra gasped, startled out of her words. She would have fallen from the perch if Asami didn’t catch her around the waist, giggling blithely all the while—

A wheel of light bloomed in the sky like a flower, dazzling and surreal. All the colours of the aurora—except they were peals of crystal fire, pouring out like diamonds before disappearing into the smoky air. Another wheeled up after it with a strange whirr, before it exploded into a glittering shower, and more in succession.

They reminded Korra of the spirit hales in the heart of the wilds, and even deeper in a buried memory, of the Fire explosives some of the raiders had once set off on the Southern Sea. Except these were brighter—and safer, because Asami had made them.

Korra looked to her when they had died, beaming under the mitten that covered her mouth in shock. “Are there more?”

To her eternal delight, there were more. New flowers sprouting on the celestial vault, they would be burned in her memory forever.

“They’re no aurora,” Asami said, while Korra scoffed and slung her arms around her, huddling for the cold and the buzz. Under her embrace, and half her weight, Asami looked chuffed. “But I thought they might liven up your night.”

Korra cupped her earmuff, then her cheek. “Thank you. This is the best day I’ve had all winter.”

Asami’s pyrotechnical skills didn’t even surprise her, but that could hardly diminish the sheer majesty, and novelty, of the display. Even minutes later, Korra could hardly believe what she had seen.

“Well, I couldn’t let you be the only show-off around here.” Asami smiled. Then the smile dropped from her eyes and she hesitated, like she couldn’t let that sit for an explanation. “Korra. I wanted to do something special. You’ve made me feel at home here in a way I never imagined. And I’m just a smith, from the Fire Empire!”

Korra felt her eyes water and blinked the tears back quickly, because they would ice and sting in the bitter air. She bit the smile off her lips. “You’re not just anything. You’re a terrific handmaiden.”

She snorted as Asami shoved her off and reached for her pack again.

“One more thing. I thought it might be too smokey for this after all those incendiaries, but it’s worth a shot anyway.”

This time Korra recognised the device she emerged with. It was made of two cylinders, and the mechanism that held them together spun smoothly like the spokes of a wheel. She handed it to Korra, who held the spyglass up.

A field of stars materialised. Korra held her breath.

The stars were luminous at the poles, but she had never seen them like this, and for the first time they felt close enough to touch, invoking a bracing, irrepressible wonder. In silence, she gazed.

“The moon spirit leads all the stars out tonight, right?”

Asami had done her research. Korra turned back to her. “So they say.” She hooked her arm through Asami’s, and held her hand. With the spyglass still to her eye, she let her head fall against Asami’s bundled shoulder.

“Tired, princess?”

Korra rustled her breath, long-suffering. “Why do you call me that!”

The way Asami said it—like it was something of her own decree, and not that of ten thousand years of tradition and some profoundly sacred doctrines. There was a sweet and strange tug in Korra’s belly whenever it happened, and this time, tonight, it lingered longer than ever.

“‘Cause you’re a piece of work,” Asami said, trying to interlace their thick, mittened fingers, which required some effort.

Tentatively, Korra turned the spyglass to the moon herself. She winced— it glared straight back, too bright. Maybe another night, when it wasn’t Yue’s Day.

Yue’s Day. She now held the thought delicately in her chest, as if she wanted to guard it from the wind and chill. If Asami loved her—were to love her—there were several reasons not to say it. They both knew them, whether they had turned them over consciously or not.

But the risk of showing was low. And the reward, as her own euphoric mood tonight proved, was magnificent.

[jazzytriestowrite]

I hate you, I love you

Brief Summery: Keigo sits down with his therapist John to figure out what's wrong with him and why he is the way he is. He tells him the story of how he fell in love and then how it caught flames

Parings: Dabi x Hawks 

Warning: Angst, mention of violence, cursing, a lot of crying, and a whole lot of feels. Light fluff as well. 

Word count: 4,005

A/N: Honestly, I’ve been feeling really sad all of a sudden and then this idea came to mind. So I wrote and finished this around 12 am bawling to sad songs telling myself it’s okay. Hawks x Dabi is a wonderful ship, but me being me wanted to write angst because I could. This is only my second fic, and I know there will be mistakes. I accept criticism and I hope everyone enjoys. I have to start from somewhere, but I'll reach the top soon don’t worry. 

*****************************

‘’Wait? Are you here for relationship advice?’’ The black haired male asked, his head tilting to the side as he tried to grasp the meaning behind the words he just heard. Shifting in his seat slightly, he placed his notebook down in his lap and gave a soft smile to prompt the other male to continue speaking.

Hawk’s golden eyes were looking everywhere BUT the therapist in front of him. ‘’Yes… Well no.. you see’’ With a frustrated sigh, Hawk closed his mouth and slumped back in his seat. ‘’It’s a really long story John’’

John hummed in understanding, ‘’Why don’t we just start from the beginning? I’ll listen to anything you tell me, no matter how long it is, and then i’ll help you from there. Does that sound like a plan?’’

With a grin, Hawks shifted in his seat to get comfortable. ‘’Grab some snacks, this is a long tale.’’ Waiting until he got comfortable, Hawk’s took a deep breath.

‘’It all started when….’’

—

‘’ So i’m going to be some cool double agent like in the movies’’

Gran Torino shook his head, ‘’Hawk’s, this mission will be dangerous. You will need to keep up a strong facade, or this will all go down the drain.’’ The short male was leaning against a wall, his shoulders sagging with tiredness. The league of villains were really putting a strain on him.

‘’Yeah, yeah, I understand.’’ Hawk nodded, giving said male the side eye. ‘’I’ll be a hero and a villian. Oh how the tables have turned’’ He laughed at his own joke, laughing even harder when Gran Torino only stared at him with a blank face.

Pushing himself off the wall, Torino began to walk away. ‘’We’re counting on you Hawk’s….. Be careful’’

—

When Hawk’s paused in his story, John was quick to interrupt. ‘’Are you allowed to be telling me these things?’’ He questioned, leaning in like he was getting the greatest tea ever. Which was.

‘’Yes, the mission is already over… so that doesn’t matter anymore’’ Hawk said softly, ‘’and don’t we have confidentiality, so it doesn’t really matter if I tell you. You can’t tell anyone anyways’’ Hawk waved his hands in the air, letting out a soft breath.

John nodded, ‘’Okay continue, you had a mission to become a double agent.’’

Hawk’s looked down at his lap, a soft smile spreading across his face. ‘’And then that’s when I met the love of my life. We knew it wouldn’t work out, but we continued anyways.’’ He laughed at himself, how stupid could he be.

‘’We started off as really good friends..’’

—

‘’Don’t speak another word to me you canibal’’ The blue eyed male put his hands up in warning fire erupting from his fingertips. The grin on his face however, showed that he didn’t actually mean any harm

Placing his hand on his chest, Hawks fake gasped and wiped away a stray tear. ‘’Chicken is good! At least I don’t look like a burnt piece of toast!’’ Hawks responded back, sticking out his tongue.

And for the next 10 minutes, Dabi chased around Hawk’s threatening to end his whole career. But it was such playful banter, that Hawk’s didn’t even mind being there. If laughs were going to be shared, then he would enjoy this experience until it was over.

--

The slap echoed throughout the tiny enclosed room, causing Hawk’s to step back in shock. Taking  back his now bruised hand, he scoffed. ‘’I can guess what you’re going to say now. You don’t need anyone to worry about you? That you are just fine’’

‘’Fuck off, I don’t need you or anyone pretending that they care.’’ Dabi rolled his eyes, turning his back to the winged man. ‘’Take that somewhere else, far away from me’’ His hand grabbed the doorknob, ready to leave and not turn back.

Instantly, Hawk grabbed Dabi’s arm, yanking him away from the door. ‘’Don’t do that.’’ He gripped his arm tightly, his golden eyes narrowed. ‘’Don’t pretend you’re in this alone.’’ Stop. What are you doing? He’s the enemy.. Just let him go, you don’t need to prove anything to him. Stop….

‘’We can’t do that shit here dove, if anything I'll let you get away with calling me names, or even hitting me. But we don’t hide our feelings and push people away’’ Hawk stared at the tiled floor, his eyes closed tightly. ‘’We’re friends right? Well friends have each others backs, through thick and thin’’

Dabi stood still, his back still turned to Hawk’s. ‘’Don’t get sappy on me chicken little’’ he mumbled softly looking over his shoulder with a small grin, a stray tear falling down his cheek. ‘’Just know, once we become friends, we can never go back. I’d kill you instead of letting you go’’

‘’Yeah sure burnt toast’’ Hawk said, his golden eyes looking up to meet Dabi’s blue ones. ‘’Friends to the end huh? You can’t take that back now, no matter how annoying I get’’ Hawk’s then let go of said males arm, taking a step back to give him a little space.

Dabi scoffed, ‘’I’m already annoyed’’ He turned back to the door and sighed, ‘’come on, lets go get some drinks chicken little’’

-

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

‘’What the fuck do you-’’ Dabi didn’t even give the male the chance to greet him, instead he pushed through the door and walked in like he owned the place. When his eyes caught sight of the couch, he immediately sat down, placing his feet on the table in front of it. Turning his head a bit, he caught Hawk’s shocked eyes. ‘’Don’t just stand there dummy, get your guest some food. I’m starving. I was thinking maybe some Thai’’

Hawk’s stood by the door blinking like an idiot. ‘’You… you are something else’’ Shutting the door, he walked across his home. ‘’You’re just coming here to eat all my food fatass’’ He plopped himself right next to Dabi, grabbing the remote off the table while also pushing said males feet off the table.

‘’Nevermind, you should order some Soba’’

Hawk’s shook his head with a grin, ‘’is this what I signed up for when I said I’d be your best friend?’’ He slipped his phone out his pocket, ready to call the nearest place that maybe sold Soba.

‘’You’re a hero, you probably make bank. So I'm going to make your pockets hurt while it lasts,’’ Dabi comments, rolling his eyes as he snatched the remote out of Hawk’s hand.

—

John hummed, nodding his head when Hawk’s stopped talking. ‘’Ah, so I can see how things can go wrong’’ The male had several thoughts on how this whole thing could have ended, and most of them ended in either heartbreak and despair, or Hawk’s getting into deep trouble with his agency.

‘’That isn’t the part where everything goes wrong’’ Hawk explains, ‘’I was fine with being his friend, it was kinda comforting in a real way. I still knew he was… a villain’’’ He spoke the last line softly, gripping the chair tightly in his grasp. ‘’Everything went wrong because of me. I was the one that compromised the whole mission…’’

It was his fault and he knew it. He couldn’t place the blame on anyone but himself, and he’d take this guilt and the blame to the grave with him. If he had just continued the mission as planned, things would be fine.

‘’Anyways, things were fine as friends. But I was stupid, I wanted more then that. I wanted him… as a lover’’

—

It was a nice night, several clouds were in the sky, and multiple clouds just chilling in the background.

‘’Sometimes, I come up here and I’ll throw rocks down and watch as it hits someone below’’ The familiar voice of Dabi was carried by the wind, softly reaching Hawk’s unsuspecting ears. They both stared down at the humans who were just walking down below, not minding the two villains who stood above them on top of a building.

Hawk’s only turned to look at the scarred man, mouth hanging open as he tried to stop himself from laughing. ‘’Oh my god Dabi! You really give no fucks huh?’’ Hawk’s had to admit, that was a little funny, although that did mean people got hurt in the end. Unsuspecting victims for someone else's pleasure.

‘’Hey Keigo’’ said male turned and looked towards Dabi, a look of confusion on his face. Dabi had never called him by his real name, and he didn’t even remember telling him it. It confused him, but he felt his heart flutter when he said his name. A weird reaction, and he couldn’t explain it.

Dabi turned to face Hawks, and for the first time, Hawks felt like he was truly looking at him. Dabi was a nice looking man, and no one could tell him otherwise. He was a tall lean male with black messy hair that slightly resembled spikes. He had purple scarred skin that covered huge parts of his body, and even his face as well. He also had staples and piercings randomly covering his body that made him look tough and...hot?

Noticing that he was staring, and that Dabi had gone quiet, he looked up to meet the males eyes. Dabi’s eyes burned a bright intense baby blue, that stared deep into Hawk’s soul. Such eye contact almost made him step back, it being too much for him. It wasn’t helping that Dabi’s features were being illuminated by the moon's bright light. Or how the wind blew slightly, causing Dabi’s hair to sway back and forth.

‘’I’m just going to be honest about this, since I’m not one to just play the guessing game’’ Dabi took slow strides towards the winged man, his eyes never leaving his. ‘’Do you like me? Not as friends, but more like romantically?’’ When he finished his statement, he was chest to chest with Hawks, his blue eyes staring down into his eyes.

Hawk’s froze. He felt as if his words were caught in his throat, that he didn’t know how to answer, or if he should. What snapped him out of it was that he could feel how fast Dabi’s heart was also going. That he actually meant what he was saying. ‘’I-’’

Was he allowed to feel this way towards a villian? Was he allowed to like a villain? This could compromise the mission. He was a hero and Dabi was a villain. It would only end in tears and heartbreak, with Dabi in jail and Hawk crying over someone he used to know. Was he willing to take the risk and actually like Dabi? Were his feelings even valid?

In this mist of his panic, a sudden thought hit him. He’s never liked someone like this, never...vibed with another human being like this. Hawk’s in no way was ever fake around him, and Dabi accepted him as him. All the annoying and ugly parts of him, and even the kinder and softer sides of him. He had never regretted hanging out with him, and never hated the male.

Deciding to act before he changed his mind, Hawks lifted his head up slightly, meeting the eyes of Dabi’s once more. Heart pounding in his chest, he leaned in slowly, still giving Dabi the chance to step away if he wanted to.

Then slowly, their lips met. It would be cliche to say that Hawk’s felt sparks within his body, but that was the truth. He brought his hands up to Dabi’s chest, lightly gripping his shirt as the two kissed.

Pulling away, Dabi grinned like he won the lottery. ‘’You can’t go back now chicken little, i’ll kill anyone who tries to get in our way.’’

—

Hawk’s smiled at the memory, his hand softly clenching his chest. ‘’I fell in love with a villian. How cliche of me huh’’ He said softly as he shivered. ‘’I guess you can tell how things went wrong’’

‘’Is this what you need advice on?’’ John asked, picking up his notebook again, thinking this was the end. Which would be way simpler to fix and talk about then what he was expecting. Said male probably broke up with him once he became a hero, that much seemed apparent.

But he was wrong.

Hawks grinned, ‘’No that isn’t the end doc’’ That statement wouldn’t have moved John so much if he didn’t see the tears that slipped down the winged man's cheeks. Hawk’s was crying with the biggest smile on his face. It almost scared John, but he had seen the worst.

‘’Everything went wrong that day… I knew we couldn’t be together forever, but I didn’t expect it to come so soon’’

—

Silence.

That’s all that followed after Dabi’s words, and honestly, Hawks didn't even know if he had it in him to utter anything. He just stood there frozen, trying to see if this was some cruel joke, or maybe a nightmare. It had to be, because the words Dabi spoke were words he never wanted to hear.

‘’You wanna go all quiet now huh?’’ Dabi’s kind eyes were now gone, and all that could be seen was hate. A look Hawks wasn’t used to seeing… a look he had never gotten from his lover. It had shocked him so much he took several steps back, keeping his hands up and shaking him.

Dabi scoffed, ‘’silence huh? Guess that confirms it’’ He then started laughing, but not the joking around kind of laugh. His laugh held a dark aura to it, and he didn’t seem like he was joking. ‘’You aren’t even gonna argue with me? Tell me that i’m wrong, that i’m just stupid! Like i didn’t just spend all my love and effort on some hero plotting to take me down?’’The scarred male sneered, his body shaking with rage.

‘’What's wrong with you? All those nights meant something then? All those times you said you’d stick by my side? The ‘I love you’s’? Fuck, you are a sick bastard, you know that right?’’ Dabi bawled his hands together, his chest rising and falling at such a fast rate.

‘’How could you lead me on like that? I thought… I thought what we had was real Keigo.’’ When he uttered his name, it was spoken as a broken whisper. Dabi’s eyes were casted towards the concrete, not even meeting his eyes anymore.

Hawks, still frozen in place, decided to open his mouth, to somehow fix the mistake he got himself into. ‘’Dabi.. I still love you-’’ yet his words only seemed to anger the male anymore, and he would have done better keeping his mouth shut.

Dabi began laughing, his right hand coming up to grab the place above his heart. ‘’You still speak of love?’’ He yelled out, his laughing turning into small sobs. ‘’How dare you… HOW DARE YOU EVEN’’ he stopped himself mid sentence, clutching his heart as if it was in pain.

‘’I can’t believe I let you inside. I’ve learned a very valuable lesson today, thank you. But don’t you dare think you will walk away from this alive after making a fool out of me’’ Dabi sneered, the tears still streaming down his face at an alarming rate.

‘’You’ll regret this. I won’t kill you, but i’ll make sure you forever rememver to never fuck with me again.’’

Hawks could only stand there, the tears that ran down his cheeks did no justice to how he was feeling. He didn’t even have enough time to react, as all he saw with his golden orbs was blue flames.

--

‘’Hawks come on, open your eyes hun’’

Hawk’s golden eyes opened to the sound of his name, and he was suddenly hit with a blinding light, and multiple sounds hitting his ears. Coughing, he sat up fast and tried looking around at his surroundings. A hospital room? When did he?..

‘’Hey, how are you feeling?’’

Turning his head, his eyes met a nurse in bright yellow scrubs. Instead of answering her he looked down towards the bed, his eyes looking at his foot which was casted up, probably broken. Moving his hands, he realized that one wrist was broken, and the other just had a slight dull pain to it. It seemed like he didn’t take too much damage, and he was okay with that.

‘’What happened-’’ A sharp pain from two parts in his back caused Hawks to stop speaking, and he instead doubled over in pain and groaned. As he gripped his thighs, he finally noticed. Sitting up quickly, he looked over his shoulders and tried to flex his wings… instead he was met with nothing.

Nothing was there.

‘’Hawks, please calm down, I can see how this can be scary’’

Hawks went silent as everything started to rush back in his mind. Glancing back once more to assure he wasn’t just being crazy, his eyes went wide. The next actions happened slowly, painfully slow. He felt the build up of his scream, the rush of the tears and even the start of his body start to shake.

He had never felt so empty

—

John, in all of his time being a therapist had one rule. To not respond badly towards any stories told by his patients, to always keep his cool. But when Hawks finished his story, John stared at him in horror. His eyes then flicked towards where Hawks said wings would be. And they were indeed gone. What he didn’t understand though, was why Hawks was so calm while telling this.

‘’Aw doc, don’t look at me like that’’ Hawks said, waving his hand,his head hanging low as he frowned. ‘’There was always a risk with doing my job.’’

‘’What I don’t understand is’’ John paused and regained his posture, he couldn’t let what he heard affect him. ‘’Earlier you said you were here for relationship advice? Are you still with this person?’’ He tried to not let his voice convey the emotions he was feeling. ‘’What are you really here for?’’

And for the first time, John watched as Hawks broke down in front of him. It was a weird sight to see such a happy male… bawling his eyes out like a baby.

Hawks could no longer hold it together, and his body started to shake as he sobbed. ‘’I want you to tell me’’ He paused, choking out a sob as his fingers gripped where his heart would be. ‘’Tell me why I still love him’’

John’s eyes went wide, and for a moment he questioned his sanity. Maybe a good mental hospital would do for this male.

‘’TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME’’

‘’TELL ME WHY I STILL LOVE HIM’’

‘’TELL ME WHY.. TELL ME WHY I HATE HIM SO MUCH BUT LOVE HIM AT THE SAME TIME’’

—

Hawks lightly held the scarred flesh in his hand, his golden eyes tenderly looking into his lovers. ‘’I love you so much dove, and you don’t need to hide your feelings from me.’’ He said softly, kissing the males nose.

‘’I love you so much, I love all of you.’’

He then proceeded to kiss his forehead, and then his cheeks, and then his nose again. ‘’You are the hottest man I've ever met, literally. Your opinions and fears of me leaving you for someone hotter is impossible. How could I leave you for another you if you're the only you that exists'’ He stared tenderly in Dabi’s eyes, ‘’I’ll always love you ok? Now no more of this hate, it’s time to love yourself.’’

Dabi couldn’t even utter any words, he was just frozen in Hawks arms. He had never felt so much love in his life, and he didn’t know if he wanted to run or succumb to the feeling.

‘’We’re in this together? I’ll never stop loving you’’

--

‘AHH DABI I’M SORRY I SWEAR! TOGA PLEASE HELP ME’’ Hawks screamed as he jumped over the couch, and then hid his body behind Toga’s small one. ‘’Tell him to go away, he’s trying to hurt me’’

Toga looked at Hawks and then the anger that seeped out of Dabi’s eyes. ‘’What did you.. What did you do?’’

Before Hawks could answer ‘’Nothing’’ Dabi opened his mouth and spilled everything that had happened. ‘’He ate my fucking food. We might be dating but that was MY food. I even wrote my name on it’’ He yelled, blue flames erupting from his left hand.

Hawks stuck out his tongue, ‘’Aw, is the baby throwing a fit because I ate his food? Maybe it's time for a nap huh?’’ His comment was met with a pillow soaring at his face. He didn’t even have time to avoid it, and ended up falling on his ass. ‘’Ouch’’

‘’Oh you wanna talk all big now huh chicken little. We’ll see who's crying uncle by the end of this’’ Dabi said with a grin as he loomed over Hawks body with a pillow.

--

‘’Dabi… you won’t leave me right?’’

Dabi scoffed, and was ready to tell Hawks to shut up and get out his face, but upon seeing his face he paused. He saw how Hawk's eyes held some type of hurt that he could understand. Like the love that was given to him would be taken away like everything else.

Sighing, Dabi took long strides towards Hawks, and grabbed his hips as he pulled him flush against his body. ‘’Listen babe, I promise I won't leave you okay? We’re in this together. I’d kill anyone for you. Now does that sound like I’d ever let you leave me? I’d rather eat shit and die then ever lose you’’ This was the most sincere the male had ever been, since it did come from his heart.

‘’I love you Keigo, and nothing can change that’’

—

Hawks had now transferred to the floor, his head hung low as he barely finished telling his part of the story. There was now a wet spot on the carpet from his constant crying. ‘’I-’’ he choked on his words as he began crying again, clutching his chest once more.

He knew loving Dabi would go wrong. Stories like there's never ended the way they wanted. It always ended in heartbreak, but he was willing to enjoy the ride while it lasted.

Glancing up at John, he clutched his heart even tighter. ‘’Please.. Tell me what's wrong with me’’ He sobbed out, his body rocking back and forth as he himself tried answering his own question.

‘’I can never forgive him for what he's taken away from me’’ The dull ache in his back reminded him everyday of the beautiful red wings that used to be there, the wings he loved and hated. He could never fly again, he could never just escape. Instead he felt trapped. Trapped with nowhere to go. He was free falling and he had just hit the ground. 

John took a deep breath, ‘’What you're asking is normal. You went through a traumatic experience with someone you truly cared about’’ He picked up the tissue box next to him, ‘’Your feelings are valid, and don-’’

‘’YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND’’ Hawks screamed, his arms now wrapped around his body as if to calm him down. His breathing was fast, and if he continued he’d probably pass out before he even finished talking. Going silent for a second, he calmed himself down. His sobs turned to soft hiccups, and the pain in his chest dulled slightly. He was now ready to talk.

‘’I don’t know what's wrong with me’’ He said in a much calmer voice, tears hitting his skin. ‘’Even though he hurt me… took the best feature I had away from me.. My only escape..’’ He paused his talking, looking up to stare at John with the biggest smile on his face.

‘’I would do it all over again.. If that meant I could be with him for a little while longer’’

[mythical-song-wolf]

MCSM: My Warrior’s Tale 2

First Next

“Reuben! Where are you buddy?” Jesse calls out to the dark and empty forest. Monsters should be coming out soon, she needs to find him fast.

She checks the well, a patch of grass that contains a chicken, a drift of pigs that don’t contain Reuben, and finds Reuben’s burnt costume that he somehow removed.

Eventually, she finds him in a farther patch of grass, shaking.

“Reuben! There you are! Want a carrot?” Reuben happily steps out of his hiding place to devore the offering, “I’m so happy to see you, now let’s get out of here and meet up with the others at Endercon.”

Reuben oinks in distress and she turns to find two zombies approaching them. They run until they’re cornered and she fights to defend them both. She tells Reuben to run when she feels her stone sword about to break.

Thank goodness Petra came in just as her sword broke and guided her to a cave.

“I wanna show you something.”

“Sure, and thanks for the save, Petra.”

“No problem.”

“Where does this cave even lead to? A mine, clearly but I’m guessing there’s a few other exits?”

“Yeah, there’s an exit that should get us back to town,” Petra pauses, humming and eyeing her for something, “Weird.”

“What?” Jesse asks, blinking innocently.

“No offence but I was expecting you to be a bit more scared by this dimly lit tunnel, you always came off as sort of a wimp these past few years.”

She rolls her eyes, “It’s not my first time in a cave, Petra.”

“Yeah, but have you ever seen—” She pulls it out— “A Wither Skull?”

Jesse blinks before an awed smile forms on her face, “Whoa...”

Petra smirks, “Fresh from the Nether.”

“That’s insanely cool, Petra! Those can be a surprisingly rare thing to get from those stupid things.”

“Tell me about it,” Petra groans, before putting it away, “There’s this guy I’m meeting up at Endercon who’ll trade me a diamond for it.”

“Hm... Something about this I don’t trust.”

Petra rolls her eyes, “Relax, I got this.”

“I don’t doubt that, but, one, you should be asking for more than one diamond for something that rare. Especially with how tough it is to find a Nether Fortress to find them and how rare of a drop it is. And, two, you know how you need Wither Skulls to make a Wither?”

“You’re worried he might make a Wither?”

“Yeah, for all we could know he could have all the skulls he needs with yours getting added in. He might summon it at Endercon.”

“Or... Ms. Worrywart, this could be the first or second skull he’s getting and he plans on fighting the Wither after it. Again, relax Jesse, I’ve got this,” She repeats, placing a hand on Jesse’s shoulder.

“Alright, I trust you,” She says halfheartedly.

“You know, you could come with me if you’re so concerned about this deal. I won’t mind a little backup.”

“Yeah... I think I will.”

The two of them pass by a crafting table that Petra gestures for Jesse to use.

“I’ve got some cobble and sticks in that chest, you can make yourself a new sword since your last one broke.”

“Thanks.”

She grabs the sticks, leaving the cobble, and crafts an Iron Sword. She slashes it through the air for a bit. Now this is more like it.

“You sure you know how to use that thing? Iron is a pretty big step up from wood and stone.”

“Yes, Petra, I do. Besides,” She says, throwing a smirk at her, “If I’m going to back you up later, a better weapon might be needed.”

~~~~~~

Once they exit the tunnel, they see fireworks lighting up Endercon.

“I can’t believe it, we won.”

“Congrats Jesse.”

“It’s about time we beat the Ocelots for once.”

Petra chuckles, “I’ll say. But why didn’t you join them?”

“Hm?”

“Lukas and the Ocelots, I mean. Lukas formed his little gang around a year or so after you arrived in town. I know you two were friends before that, what happened?”

“Well, I was going through some stuff and I met Axel and Olivia. Lukas is cool with them but the rest of the Ocelots weren’t and I wasn’t going to tolerate that. Since our two groups didn’t get along we didn’t have much reason to hang out as much. Well, outside of helping you on the odd occasion.”

“I never did thank you two for helping me get all those Emeralds,” Petra chuckles, “I remember that every time a bat flew too close you would practically screech!”

“Listen, I don’t want them touching me!” Jesse shudders at the thought, “They’re like the winged rats of the night.”

“Creepers!” Petra points out, before turning to find Zombies at the other end of the bridge, “We’re surrounded! There are too many of them!”

“Jump!” Jesse grabs Petra's arm and throws both of them off the bridge into the lake below, “You okay?”

“Yeah, this water’s cold but that’s better than getting blown up.”

~~~~~~

Jesse and Petra meet up with Axel and Olivia, celebrating their victory. Before the two pairs separate so Jesse can accompany Petra on her deal.

Meanwhile, in another section of Endercon. Aiden is absolutely furious.

“Why are you breaking up with me?!”

“Because, as of far too often recently, you’ve been nothing but an utter douchebag, Aiden! We’ve all told you to get that temper of yours under control but you never listened!”

“Fine! Fine! We’re over, but so are the Ocelots because I’m leaving!”

“Fine! We don’t need you anyway, right guys?” Lukas looks between Gill and Maya, who glance at each other fearfully before shifting away from Lukas to Aiden.

Aiden smirks, taking off the Ocelots Jacket and throwing it into the trash and walking away, with Gill and Maya tailing behind him.

Lukas sighs, running a hand through his hair and walks to the crowd and passes by a butcher who’s about to execute a pig with a dark spot on its back— Reuben.

“Excuse me,” Lukas starts, gaining the Butcher’s attention, “Where did you find that pig if I may ask?”

“It ran in here from the forest. What’s it to you kid?”

“Ah. Well, that’s my friend’s pig, so I can have him back?”

“Depends, what’re you offering in turn?”

“I have some iron and sticks to make an Iron Axe, instead of using that stone one.”

“Hm... I’ll take it.”

Lukas places the items on the counter and walks away with Reuben, “I’m guessing you and Jesse found each other?”

He oinks happily before making a sad noise. Lukas looks up at the sky.

“It is getting dark, I hope she made it back here okay.”

Reuben nods, making a sad but hopeful sound.

~~~~~

Jesse knew it. She knew that guy couldn’t be trusted, thankfully she got Petra to stay with her instead of checking other alleys because she doesn’t think she would’ve handled a conversation with the dude without potentially drawing her sword.

Now that guy scammed Petra out of her diamond, and anyone who’s anyone here should know you don’t mess with Petra. Petra heads off to the entrance while Jesse runs off to the various booths. With that many people it’ll be easy for him to hide.

But Jesse is shoved into someone as the crowd rushes to see Gabriel coming in.

“Sorry—”

“It’s okay—”

“Lukas!” She says, wide-eyed and happy to see her friend.

“Jesse!” He replies with a bright smile, before Reuben oinks and jumps before her.

She gasps, “Reuben!” She hugs her friend, “I’m so glad you’re safe! Did Lukas find you?”

“I did, but technically a Butcher found him first,” He replies, too casually for her comfort.

“Oh?” She says, her tone dripping with a hidden edge and venom.

“I traded him some iron and sticks for Reuben.”

She blinks several times, “Oh, oh, you- you didn’t have to. Thank you.”

He waves it off, “Don’t worry about it, you’re my friend.”

“Yeah, yeah...” She glances around, awkwardly, “So... where are the other Ocelots?”

Lukas coughs— well, more like choke on air, “Oh, the Ocelots disbanded due to... conflicting interests.”

She eyes him for a moment, but he avoids her gaze so she drops it, “Have you seen a creepy guy with long hair and beard? He scammed Petra out of a diamond and now she’s on the hunt for him.”

Lukas winces, “That guy is either nuts or has a death wish to do that to Petra of all people. I haven’t seen anyone like that but I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Thanks, and thank you again for saving Reuben’s life.”

Jesse and Reuben walk away and come by Axel and Olivia who report nothing about who she’s looking for. This is going to be a long night.

[s-horne]

14. National Buttermilk Biscuit Day

“What the hell is buttermilk?”

“Excuse me?”

“Buttermilk,” Tony said again, not at all bothered by the fact he’d suddenly accosted a stranger. “What is it? I have butter and I have milk, but what is buttermilk? Does it actually exist?”

Tony looked up from his shopping list to blink at the stranger in front of him expectantly. He was so caught up in his quest that he could barely even spare a brain cell to appreciate the beauty of the man he’d stumbled up to.

“Yes,” the man finally said, blinking in surprise. “Yes, I’m pretty sure it’s a real thing.”

“Really?” Tony squinted at the man and then back down to his list. “Where do I find it?”

The man gave a startled laugh before he dropped a block of cheese into his shopping cart. “It’ll be with the milk, I guess. Down here.”

Tony followed dutifully, one eye on where he was going and the other on the dodgy wheel of his cart. Trust him to pick the one that kept veering off to the left whilst making the most awful clunking sounds.

Tony nearly crashed into the man he was trailing behind when he stopped suddenly.

“Here we are. How much do you need?”

“Ah.” Tony looked up at the shelf in front of him in there and his jaw dropped. Apparently there was such a thing as buttermilk and there were an awful lot of varieties to choose from. Low fat, full fat, 2%; the list was endless. “Enough to make 72 biscuits.”

“72?” The man’s blue eyes nearly bugged out of his head and Tony groaned.

“I know, I know. My godson is having a big bake sale at his school and I said I’d help him make them to take the pressure off his aunt. The only problem is, I know shit about baking.”

“Well. I have no idea how much you’ll need for 72 biscuits. Do you have a recipe?”

“One would think,” Tony said sheepishly, “but I don’t really like following instructions. I’m more of a ‘wing it’ kind of guy.”

“I would love to see how you expect to bake 72 biscuits going in blind.”

“I’ll just apply some math to it. Turn the whole thing into a learning experience for Pete. The kid loves science; it will be great.”

“If you say so,” the man laughed. “But I don’t think kids like applying physics and equations to sugar.”

Tony rolled his eyes as he leant over to start grabbing one of each available variety of buttermilk. “Trust me, that kid is unlike any other.”

“He must be.”

“Okay, is that one of each?” Tony’s eyes flickered from his cart to the fridge in front of him, trying to count the labels he could see. “God, why do people even use this crap? I’d never heard of it. Was sort of convinced Rhodes had sent me off on a wild goose chase. I really hope these are going to be edible after all this.”

There was a loud laugh as the man lifted yet another bottle off the shelf and held it out to Tony. “God, me too. I’d hate for you to disappoint all of those children.”

“Just you wait,” Tony said with a cocky smile, saluting with the last bottle, “they’ll be the hit of Midtown Elementary.”

There was a pause and Tony looked up from his cart to see his acquaintance looking taken aback.

“Huh,” he said, a stunned smile playing around his lips, “maybe I’ll get to try them after all and see for myself. Steve Rogers, Midtown Principal.”

Tony took the hand being held out to him with a surprised laugh, letting his handshake linger for a beat too long. “How about that? Well, Mr. Rogers, I do hope you enjoy.”

 //

 “Hey, Peter-pan,” Tony called as he heard the front door open and the tell-tale patter of loud steps running down the hallway towards him. “How did the sale go?”

“We won!”

Tony laughed when he felt a small body collide with his legs and he reached for the tea-towel on the counter to dry his hands. “I don’t think you can win a sale, kiddo. I’m pretty sure you’re all working on the same fundraising team.”

Peter gave a light shrug, tugging at Tony’s legs until he bent down and swept the child up into his arms for a tight hug.

“Mine were the bestest ones; even Norman’s daddy said so. And Principal Rogers had four.”

“Really?” Tony said in exaggerated-awe, ignoring the skip in his heartbeat and instead focusing on the four sticky fingers that Peter was shoving in his face, dangerously close to his eye. “High praise indeed, Pete. Well done.”

“Yes, thank you, Tony.” Tony looked up when he heard May’s voice, already shaking his head to brush her thanks away. “I really appreciate it.”

“And I told you not to worry about it, sweetheart. It was my pleasure.”

“Hm, I know.”

Carefully placing Peter back on the floor so that he could scamper over to grab his rucksack that May was holding out, Tony tilted his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” May said lightly, shrugging out of her coat and placing it over one of the dining chairs, watching as Peter ran through to the living room and settled himself on the couch. Turning back to Tony, she lifted one shoulder. “I just happened to notice that Principal Rogers took quite a bit of credit for the buttermilk biscuits when Mrs. Cartin commented how nice they were. Now, maybe I misunderstood, but I thought you made those. You did, didn’t you, Tony? So Principal Rogers must have thought she was commenting on something else, right?”

Uh oh.

“Of course I did,” Tony said quickly. A little too quickly, maybe. “Those were definitely mine. All mine. I don’t know what he was doing. The snake.”

“That’s what I thought,” May continued, flicking her hair over her shoulder and holding Tony’s gaze, unwavering. “But then Principal Rogers and I were talking and he happened to mention that he hoped your baking trays were recoverable from the incident. What incident, Tony? And anyway, how would he know anything about your baking trays?”

Tony felt his traitorous cheeks flush a deep red and he turned back to the washing-up in a weak effort to hide it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really?” May crossed the room and leant against the side next to Tony, folding her arms across her chest in a far-too casual move. “So you don’t know why he bought a whole plate of cookies from Harry and Ned and asked me to hand them to you?”

Tony pressed his lips together to keep in a hideously-embarrasing squeal. “Nope,” he managed to stutter out, concentrating much too hard on a perfectly clean mug in the bowl of soapy water. “I have no idea why he’d do that.”

“Right,” May said, her voice giving away the fact that she didn’t believe him for a moment as she pushed herself up to stand again. “Well, I’m pretty sure I saw him scribbling a note that he tucked under one of the biscuits. And I promised Pete that he could have one when he’d finished his homework, so you might want to fish that out before too long. You know how quick that kid is.”

Tony waited until she had left the room before he swept the towel over his hands briefly and all but ran over to the table where he now saw an alarmingly large tray of misshapen cookies. Glancing over his shoulder to see if he would be caught, Tony ripped away the saran-wrap and pushed the sugar bombs to one side.

Sure enough, there was a folded piece of paper resting on the tray and Tony grabbed it eagerly, flicking away the layer of crumbs it had collected and rolling his eyes at the chocolate stains speckling it. Hopefully, whatever it said had managed to survive the grease. Tony willed his heart to stop beating so stupidly quickly as he unfolded it and began to read.

 Tony,

I had a lot of fun baking with you the other night. I really do hope that your trays were salvageable and that you could scrape off the burnt cookies, though I can’t find it in me to be sorry for the events that led to us forgetting them in the oven.

The half-batch that you and Peter have done is impressive and clearly, without me to distract you, you are a decent baker.

Perhaps you would like to bake something to bring round for dinner? I’ll cook the main if you bring dessert – and by ‘dessert’, I do mean actual food. (As well as yourself)

Say Friday, 8pm? Text me your answer. I’ll be waiting.

Yours,

Steve x

[queenofthefullmoon]

An exhaustive list of Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin bosses I would or would not date

The Last Giant

Listen… The Last Giant has No Face. I like dating people who have faces. Also, his arms detach and he’s like, at least 10 meters taller than me, so I think that would be a hazard. I think he’s more in need of a friend than a romantic partner. I’d gladly sit down with him and discuss his feelings, but we are not meant to date.

The Pursuer

The Pursuer is great because he’s just so… Rotund. He’s shaped like a friend. Or maybe… More than a friend… He’s got a biggass sword that glows blue, which is great if you need to get up at night to get water or a snack, and a big shield he can use to protect you from the hot Drangleic sun when you’re on a date. You never have to worry about losing him because HE WILL FIND YOU. I think he’s a catch.

Dragonrider

He almost didn’t make it in the list of bosses I would date, but encountering him so often made me have a soft spot for him. Plus he’s a little bit round and I’ve gotta say. Rotundness is where it’s at. He’s fun to fight so I feel like you could have some fun jousts together and then chill… And go, like, I don’t know, ride dragons*? Fun couple activities.

*although dragonrider is his name I’m not sure we saw any dragonrider ride a dragon so this is a shot in the dark

Old Dragonslayer

The Old Dragonslayer has a very sexy armor, I’ll give him that, but he 1. Has a furry mask (a terrible fashion faux pas that I cannot forgive) 2. Is just sitting in the Cathedral of Blue while a DRAGON is outside, unslayed, which says something about the quality of his work. I had to kill the dragon myself, while the Old Dragonslayer was sitting around… Being old, I guess. Not for me.

Flexile Sentry

DISGUSTING AND WRONG.

Ruin Sentinel

The Ruin Sentinels are arguably the sexiest armor bosses in all of Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin. Something about these long lads and their eldritch identities and behaviors just tickles me the right way. The shape of their helmets looks a little bit like a turtle which gives them just enough cuteness while not taking away from the fact that I’m absolutely terrified of them and that they are in fact very scary (which is good). They’re also very tall which means they can carry me around and make me feel tall too. Definitely a good thing in a partner.

Belfry Gargoyles

I wouldn’t date the Belfry Gargoyles, but I’d be friends with them. I feel like they’d be fun at a sleepover. Girl’s night! Girl’s night!

Lost Sinner

I’d date the Lost Sinner. It might be a little bit controversial because yes she is a little bit nasty, I’m aware of that, but I think she just needs a little bit of company. I don’t want to change her, I love her right like she is, but if she wants me to teach her how to shower, I might just do it! I am a little bit biased because she’s got a big sword that looks really cool? Perhaps.

Executioner’s Chariot

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

Skeleton Lords

I think the Skeleton Lords are neat but I don’t really see myself dating them. Firstly, I’m not a skeleton fucker, so that puts a little bit of distance between us (given that they are in fact skeletons). They also have an army of skeleton children, which I’m just not ready to raise. I’m trying to find a date, not to become a skeleton mom. I feel like we’d be great friends though, I’d probably invite them over so they can practice their standup routine at my house while they leave their 30 skeletons children with the babysitter and we can like drink wine or something.

Covetous Demon

I would not date the Covetous Demon, but I would keep him as a mean dog in my yard to discourage my enemies from entering my property.

Baneful Queen Mytha

I’d be all here for the sniddies if Mytha kept her head on her neck but alas she is headless. 

Smelter Demon

Mh… Yes. He’s big and large and he’s got horns. He could put me up on his shoulder and walk around and I’d be warm up there. Sounds like nothing but a good time.

Old Iron King

Ngghghhh….. I wanna say no but he is Ripped… Absolutely jacked! I’m also a hoe for horns and wings! What can I say. Call me out if I ever make fun of scalies again? (im gonna do that like in a few paragraphs anyway)

Scorpioness Najka

Given the fact that her own fiancé, made miserable by her, asks you to murder her, I don’t think Najka is a fine romantic partner. In addition to that, even though I was here for sniddies, scorpions are scary and gross me out, so no, I would not date Scorpioness Najka.

The Duke’s Dear Freja

She’ll remain dear to the Duke only and she is NOT invited in my yard.

Royal Rat Authority

Wouldn’t date the big rat that makes all of the rules, but similarly to the Covetous Demon, having him on my property to scare people away would be pretty neat.

Prowling Magus and The Congregation

Prowling Magus has a SICK aesthetic I can absolutely get behind (« look at my cool sorcerer boyfriend wearing his goat helmet ») and I’ve stated before I Am a Hoe for horns so we could have something going on.

The Congregation is however BANNED from this house so since they’re probably his buddies that would most likely be a point of tension. Ultimately it might be better for me to keep a platonic relationship with Prowling Magus, as I do not want hollows to crawl on my floor when he invites his friends over.

The Rotten

Oh no lol

Looking Glass Knight

NNNYES absolutely I would date the Looking Glass Knight. He’s not only really cool looking and a Very Dramatic Man (standing in the rain when you meet him… the scenery… the atmosphere… he knows how to make an entrance), but he’d also be a great person to bring with you for a night out.

Exhibit A: he’s really fucking tall and scary which would dissuade anyone from approaching you uninvited

Exhibit B : he carries a FULL BODY mirror around everywhere which means you can fix your hair and/or makeup at any time without needing a shitty pocket mirror or going to the bathroom

Exhibit C : if you need help he can summon a limitless amount of people through his mirror

Just a great partner all around.

Demon of Song

Ohhhhhh noooooo Lord nooooooooooooooo please! Please spare me

Velstadt, the Royal Aegis

Velstadt is very loyal (a real man for following Vendrick all the way to the Undead Crypt) and he’s also very tall, very large, very strong, and very stylish (see the scales cape he wears). I would’ve put him at the top of the date list, but he’s no dating material — he’s husband material. A little downside is that he might put his job before me but I get it. It’s career before everything. I will not limit my husband’s ambitions.

King Vendrick

Vendrick is taken by an eldritch entity and still very much in love with her despite the fact that she destroyed his kingdom and brought the entire civilization down and also caused him to become a war criminal and kill a pacific race of giants all on his own like a big boy so I’m not very interested in him.

Guardian Dragon & Ancient Dragon

I’m putting them together because they essentially boil down to the same thing : I’d offer them a home but I wouldn’t date them. The Guardian Dragon can stay outside and be feral with everyone else that I put in the yard, while the Ancient Dragon can have his own room and like is invited for tea sometimes, but that’s all.

Giant Lord

See Last Giant

Throne Defender & Watcher

I’m a little bit torn on this one because I’m experiencing bisexual panic. We’ve got cool large dude with a beard ; cool slender lady that jumps around everywhere ; they could both beat me up and they both look hot, help me. However, I have to say if I had to pick I’d got with the Throne Watcher because she is hot and looks slightly cooler. I’ve always wanted a very tall wife who could suplex me into the sun, which she could do in a heartbeat.

On the other hand, they do look like a power couple that I’d love to have for dinner and I’d hate to break them up while there are so many fish in the sea and they look so great with each other.

Nashandra

Human Nashandra looks pretty and soft, however anyone who witnessed my first blind playthrough of Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin will tell you that she did not have me fooled and I was very wary of her from the beginning. Anyone who has witnessed my first fight with her looking very skeletal will also tell you that I screamed « WHAT IS THAT » for at least 5 minutes, so that probably gives you an idea of if I’d date her or not.

Also, her weapon of choice is a scythe, which looks cool, but is very unpractical, and just for this fatal mistake, she becomes undatable.

Darklurker

Wings… Four arms = twice the hugs… Cool hood… Yes…

Elana the Squalid Queen

She’s nasty and told me I was undeserving of the mire, which is pretty mean of her. Even if she thinks it, she could at least be nice about it. I would not date her.

Sinh the Slumbering Dragon

Sinh is BANNED from this house because he’s not just feral, he’s RABID and POISONOUS and if I let him live in the yard he could poison my entire property and I do not want that.

Fume Knight

Alas! The Fume Knight looks really cool and has a pretty sexy armor, but tales say that he was infatuated with another woman (whether he met her when she was already an Ashen Idol or not remains a mystery but I’m no one to judge his taste in women). I respect people’s crushes so I will let him be in love with whoever he fancies and they may come over for dinner, as long as they behave.

Aava, Lud and Zallen, the King’s pet

They are very welcome to live in the yard. They may come inside the house, but they are not allowed on the couch.

Burnt Ivory King

No… He loved his wife very much… I’d invite them over for dinner and MAYBE try to seduce one of his knights (they have sexy armors, what can I say).

Aldia, Scholar of the First Sin

Aldia is a weird dude and I wouldn’t feel safe around him. I think he’d probably kidnap me while I’m asleep and go do some experiments on me in his cursed mansion. It’s a no from me chief. Not to mention the fact that he’s a… tree?

Afflicted Graverobber, Ancient Soldier Varg, and Cerah the Old Explorer

I wouldn’t date them, even though their armors are pretty sexy, simply because they seem like a good group of friends and I wouldn’t feel comfortable inserting myself in the group. I think I’d even be too shy to befriend them, but if they wanna come by my house and have a good time, they’re welcome to do so.

Blue Smelter Demon

See Smelter Demon, but with more vigor because this one is blue.

Sir Alonne

Yeah… he’s got the eldritch factor that I like in the Ruin Sentinels while also seeming more human and he’s also a pretty stylish man. I feel like he’s one of the strongest contestants in the game and he wouldn’t mind my long nose, as he’s got one himself. Pretty sexy armor and he is a man of honor. Definitely a yes.

[butterflies-dragons]

Hi! 😊 Do you think these two quotes are connected in a way? "She found his cloak on the floor, twisted up tight, the white wool stained by blood and fire.” “But in place of arms she had the wings of a bat or a dragon, her legs were the legs of an eagle, and behind she wore scorpion's curled and venomous tail”.. One is saying Sansa wraps herself with a blood and fire cloak, while the other one is saying in her place of arms there is a bat or a dragon with wings. What do you think about the two?

Hello Anon!!!

My answer ended up being a very long Jon x Sansa meta.  

I’m going to start citing the quotes you are referring to:

When she crawled out of bed, long moments later, she was alone. She found his cloak on the floor, twisted up tight, the white wool stained by blood and fire. The sky outside was darker by then, with only a few pale green ghosts dancing against the stars. A chill wind was blowing, banging the shutters. Sansa was cold. She shook out the torn cloak and huddled beneath it on the floor, shivering.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VII

In the center of the Plaza of Pride stood a red brick fountain whose waters smelled of brimstone, and in the center of the fountain a monstrous harpy made of hammered bronze. Twenty feet tall she reared. She had a woman’s face, with gilded hair, ivory eyes, and pointed ivory teeth. Water gushed yellow from her heavy breasts. But in place of arms she had the wings of a bat or a dragon, her legs were the legs of an eagle, and behind she wore a scorpion’s curled and venomous tail.

—A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

Are these quotes connected in a way? The answer is yes. Both quotes contain Targaryen references: Blood and fire and wings of a dragon immediately make me think of the sigil and motto of House Targaryen.

The blood and fire imagery is present in Sansa’s chapters three times. The blood and fire are always referred as a stain that soils a white/off-white fabric.

The most “famous” white fabric in Sansa’s story is the Hound’s Kingsguard cloak, and I believe this is a distraction factor, because the connection between Sansa and the white cloaks of the Kingsguards is -by far- larger than that.

The importance of the white cloaks of the Kingsguards in Sansa’s story resides in the deconstruction of the idea that “white” and “beauty” equal goodness and its purpose is Sansa’s disillusionment of knights in her arc.

Besides, on a deeper level, the presence of the blood and fire imagery in Sansa’s chapters as a stain that soils a white/off-white fabric serves as hint of Jon Snow’s true parentage. It is there to tell us about a broken betrothal and the hidden union of a Stark maiden with a Targaryen prince that produced an heir; and probably to foreshadow another union of the same parties in the future.    

The bat/dragon wings imagery present in Dany’s chapters is also linked to Sansa in one of Arya’s chapters.

This is subtler, but combined with other hints hidden in the Books, it tells us about the future union of a Stark maiden with a Targaryen prince.

I’m going to develop all these ideas under the cut.

A WHITE KINGSGUARD CLOAK STAINED BY BLOOD AND FIRE

About the first quote, let me start by saying that Sansa Stark has a very interesting imagery of white/off-white fabrics stained with blood and fire.

A few readers have already pointed out about this very interesting and particular topic. I talked about it with @lostlittlesatellites​ a few times last year and she has already written about it here: [x] [x]. I’m going to expand on it and give you my approach on the subject.  

Sansa’s Ivory silk dress stained with blood orange juice and ashes

“Liar,” Arya said. Her hand clenched the blood orange so hard that red juice oozed between her fingers.

“Go ahead, call me all the names you want,” Sansa said airily. “You won’t dare when I’m married to Joffrey. You’ll have to bow to me and call me Your Grace.” She shrieked as Arya flung the orange across the table. It caught her in the middle of the forehead with a wet squish and plopped down into her lap.

“You have juice on your face, Your Grace,” Arya said.

It was running down her nose and stinging her eyes. Sansa wiped it away with a napkin. When she saw what the fruit in her lap had done to her beautiful ivory silk dress, she shrieked again. “You’re horrible,” she screamed at her sister. “They should have killed you instead of Lady!”

(…)

“Arya started it,” Sansa said quickly, anxious to have the first word. “She called me a liar and threw an orange at me and spoiled my dress, the ivory silk, the one Queen Cersei gave me when I was betrothed to Prince Joffrey. She hates that I’m going to marry the prince. She tries to spoil everything, Father, she can’t stand for anything to be beautiful or nice or splendid.”

(…)

“Sansa stalked away with her head up. She was to be a queen, and queens did not cry. At least not where people could see. When she reached her bedchamber, she barred the door and took off her dress. The blood orange had left a blotchy red stain on the silk. “I hate her!” she screamed. She balled up the dress and flung it into the cold hearth, on top of the ashes of last night’s fire. When she saw that the stain had bled through onto her underskirt, she began to sob despite herself. She ripped off the rest of her clothes wildly, threw herself into bed, and cried herself back to sleep.”

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

When the king’s herald moved forward, Sansa realized the moment was almost at hand. She smoothed down the cloth of her skirt nervously. She was dressed in mourning, as a sign of respect for the dead king, but she had taken special care to make herself beautiful. Her gown was the ivory silk that the queen had given her, the one Arya had ruined, but she’d had them dye it black and you couldn’t see the stain at all. She had fretted over her jewelry for hours and finally decided upon the elegant simplicity of a plain silver chain.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

Take note that the ivory silk dress was a “betrothal gift” from Cersei, that Sansa later had to “dye it black” so the “blood and fire stain” couldn’t be seen at all.

Oh George! Your wording here is just genius!  

Sansa’s bedclothes stained with her moonblood and fire

When she woke, the pale light of morning was slanting through her window, yet she felt as sick and achy as if she had not slept at all. There was something sticky on her thighs. When she threw back the blanket and saw the blood, all she could think was that her dream had somehow come true. She remembered the knives inside her, twisting and ripping. She squirmed away in horror, kicking at the sheets and falling to the floor, breathing raggedly, naked, bloodied, and afraid.

But as she crouched there, on her hands and knees, understanding came. “No, please,” Sansa whimpered, “please, no.” She didn’t want this happening to her, not now, not here, not now, not now, not now, not now.

Madness took hold of her. Pulling herself up by the bedpost, she went to the basin and washed between her legs, scrubbing away all the stickiness. By the time she was done, the water was pink with blood. When her maidservants saw it they would know. Then she remembered the bedclothes. She rushed back to the bed and stared in horror at the dark red stain and the tale it told. All she could think was that she had to get rid of it, or else they’d see. She couldn’t let them see, or they’d marry her to Joffrey and make her lay with him.

Snatching up her knife, Sansa hacked at the sheet, cutting out the stain. If they ask me about the hole, what will I say? Tears ran down her face. She pulled the torn sheet from the bed, and the stained blanket as well. I’ll have to burn them. She balled up the evidence, stuffed it in the fireplace, drenched it in oil from her bedside lamp, and lit it afire. Then she realized that the blood had soaked through the sheet into the featherbed, so she bundled that up as well, but it was big and cumbersome, hard to move. Sansa could get only half of it into the fire. She was on her knees, struggling to shove the mattress into the flames as thick grey smoke eddied around her and filled the room, when the door burst open and she heard her maid gasp.

In the end it took three of them to pull her away. And it was all for nothing. The bedclothes were burnt, but by the time they carried her off her thighs were bloody again. It was as if her own body had betrayed her to Joffrey, unfurling a banner of Lannister crimson for all the world to see.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

Even if the color of the bedclothes was not stated as white/off-white, it’s very probable that they were of white or an off-white color, like ivory. So, again, we find this very interesting imagery in Sansa’s chapters: white/off-white fabrics stained with blood and fire.  

And this passage of a bed stained with blood that must be hidden makes me think about Ned’s dream of Lyanna’s death:

He dreamt an old dream, of three knights in white cloaks, and a tower long fallen, and Lyanna in her bed of blood.

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard X

So I think there is another pattern here: betrothal, marriage and giving birth.

As I said before, the ivory silk dress was a “betrothal gift” from Cersei; and, as Sansa stated, the bedclothes stained with her moonblood was a proof of her having reached her womanhood and thus able to do her duty and marry Joffrey and bear his children.  

Moreover, after Sansa’s first moonblood, she had this conversation with Cersei:

“I don’t blame you. Between Tyrion and Lord Stannis, everything I eat tastes of ash. And now you’re setting fires as well. What did you hope to accomplish?”

Sansa lowered her head. “The blood frightened me.”

“The blood is the seal of your womanhood. Lady Catelyn might have prepared you. You’ve had your first flowering, no more.”

Sansa had never felt less flowery. “My lady mother told me, but I … I thought it would be different.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. Less … less messy, and more magical.”

Queen Cersei laughed. “Wait until you birth a child, Sansa. A woman’s life is nine parts mess to one part magic, you’ll learn that soon enough … and the parts that look like magic often turn out to be messiest of all.” She took a sip of milk. “So now you are a woman. Do you have the least idea of what that means?”

“It means that I am now fit to be wedded and bedded,” said Sansa, “and to bear children for the king.”

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

As you can see, GRRM has plagued Sansa’s chapters with Jon Snow’s true parentage hints.  

An ivory silk dress, a “betrothal gift” from Cersei, that Sansa later had to “dye it black”, so the “blood and fire stain” couldn’t be seen at all, sounds pretty much like Lyanna Stark’s betrothal to Robert Baratheon being “stained” by Rhaegar Targaryen. And then, of course, of Jon Snow hidden in the Wall as a Black Brother/Black Knight of the Night’s Watch.  

Again, Sansa’s bedclothes stained with her flowering blood and then with fire to hide the stain, sounds pretty much like Lyanna Stark’s bed of blood after she gave birth Jon Snow, the baby that had to be hidden so his Targaryen identity couldn’t be seem at all.

A white wool cloak stained by blood and fire

When she crawled out of bed, long moments later, she was alone. She found his cloak on the floor, twisted up tight, the white wool stained by blood and fire. The sky outside was darker by then, with only a few pale green ghosts dancing against the stars. A chill wind was blowing, banging the shutters. Sansa was cold. She shook out the torn cloak and huddled beneath it on the floor, shivering.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VII

Out of the three passages with this imagery of white/off-white fabrics stained with blood and fire, this one, the one you asked for, has the more evident references of Jon Snow’s true parentage as the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.    

Here we have Sansa huddled beneath a white kingsguard cloak stained by blood of the death during the Battle of the Blackwater and wildfire.    

I think most of the readers get distracted from the Jon Snow’s true parentage hints here, because they romanticize this scene and believe it foreshadows some romantic future events for her involving the Hound, based in the fact that Sansa had covered herself with “the Hounds cloak” twice. But the relationship between Sansa and the white cloaks is -by far- larger than that; it has more to do with the ideals of knighthood and chivalry, than with the men wearing them.  

White Cloaks

Thanks to the recently published Fire & Blood Volume I, now we know that Queen Visenya Targaryen created the Kingsguard brotherhood and modeled their vows on those of the Night’s Watch:

Many kings had champions to defend them. Aegon was the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms; therefore, he should have seven champions, Queen Visenya decided. Thus did the Kingsguard come into being; a brotherhood of seven knights, the finest in the realm, cloaked and armored all in purest white, with no purpose but to defend the king, giving up their own lives for his if need be. Visenya modeled their vows on those of the Night’s Watch; like the black-cloaked crows of the Wall, the White Swords served for life, surrendering all their lands, titles, and worldly goods to live a life of chastity and obedience, with no reward but honor.

—Fire & Blood - Volume I

Here we have the origins of the famous white cloaks as a symbol of goodness, beauty and greatness, the seven knights of the Kingsguard were cloaked and armored all in purest white the text says, and this is something that Sansa Stark repeats in her first chapter in AGOT:

One knight wore an intricate suit of white enameled scales, brilliant as a field of new-fallen snow, with silver chasings and clasps that glittered in the sun. When he removed his helm, Sansa saw that he was an old man with hair as pale as his armor, yet he seemed strong and graceful for all that. From his shoulders hung the pure white cloak of the Kingsguard.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

But what does GRRM say about this concept?  

I am particularly irritated by fantasy where you can always tell the bad guys because they are ugly and wear black. That’s why I deliberately pulled a twist on that with my Night’s Watch. Sure they are criminal scum but they are also heroes and they wear black and I wanted to play with the convention a little. As for the knights, sure, I think it’s an interesting question too. It not only affects fantasy but our history, too. We’ve always had a class of “protectors.” The church divided us into knights and those the knights were suppose to protect, with the church praying for both. The worker, the prayer and the fighter. Of course, the way it often worked out is the people the peasants often needed the most protection from were their own protectors. I think there is a powerful story in that. The ideals of knighthood embody some of the finest ideals the human race has ever come up with. The reality was somewhat less than that, and often horribly so. Of course, that is true in the Seven Kingdoms as well.

—A Conversation With George R.R. Martin - November 2000 

Indeed, GRRM has twisted this idea of white/beauty/goodness vs black/ugliness/evil, by making the Kingsguard knights with their white cloaks capable of beating innocent little girls for the amusement of a King like Joffrey, the same way Aerys’ Kingsguards never moved a finger to protect Rhaella of the King’s abuse, Ser Barristan Selmy included. And when Jaime Lannister, a Kingsguard, saved King’s Landing from death by wildfire and killed Aerys, he became the greatest oathbreaker.

At the same time the Night’s Watch with their black cloaks have been defending the realm from the White Walkers for thousands of years at the Wall, and counts among its members a guy like Samwell Tarly, who, according to GRRM himself, is kind and smart and decent and devoted.  

So Sansa Stark, the character with the greatest and profoundest admiration and faith in knighthood and chivalry is the instrument that GRRM uses to deconstruct the concept of white & beauty equal goodness.  So far, every man wearing a white cloak has failed Sansa, they beat her, they disrobed her, they humiliated her, they sexualized her and they even attempted to rape her.  

But Sansa, being the person that she is, still grasps the latest vestige of chivalry that is left: the white fabric.  All the men wearing the white cloaks had failed her, they have soiled their cloaks, but the white fabric alone, even soiled, has shielded her.    

Sansa Stark and the White Cloaks

In the Books, there are three times where Sansa used a white kingsguard cloak as a shield.  Let’s revisit those three times chronologically:

“Ser Barristan looked up sharply. “A hall to die in, and men to bury me. I thank you, my lords…but I spit upon your pity.” He reached up and undid the clasps that held his cloak in place, and the heavy white garment slithered from his shoulders to fall in a heap on the floor. His helmet dropped with a clang. “I am a knight,” he told them. He opened the silver fastenings of his breastplate and let that fall as well. “I shall die a knight.”

(…)

Your Grace,” Littlefinger reminded the king. “If we might resume, the seven are now six. We find ourselves in need of a new sword for your Kingsguard.”Joffrey smiled. “Tell them, Mother.”

“The king and council have determined that no man in the Seven Kingdoms is more fit to guard and protect His Grace than his sworn shield, Sandor Clegane”.

(…)

“When the king’s herald moved forward, Sansa realized the moment was almost at hand. She smoothed down the cloth of her skirt nervously. She was dressed in mourning, as a sign of respect for the dead king, but she had taken special care to make herself beautiful. Her gown was the ivory silk that the queen had given her, the one Arya had ruined, but she’d had them dye it black and you couldn’t see the stain at all. She had fretted over her jewelry for hours and finally decided upon the elegant simplicity of a plain silver chain.”

(…)

“The Lady Sansa, of House Stark,” the herald cried.

She stopped under the throne, at the spot where Ser Barristan’s white cloak lay puddled on the floor beside his helm and breastplate. “Do you have some business for king and council, Sansa?” the queen asked from the council table.

“I do.” She knelt on the cloak, so as not to spoil her gown, and looked up at her prince on his fearsome black throne. “As it please Your Grace, I ask mercy for my father, Lord Eddard Stark, who was the Hand of the King.” She had practiced the words a hundred times.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

Sansa knelt on the white kingsguard cloak Ser Barristan Selmy left on the floor so as not to spoil her gown, that was precisely her ivory silk dress that she dyed black.

After Ser Barristan was expelled from the Kingsguard, the Hound replaced him and maybe he even took the same white cloak for himself.

The second time Sansa used a Kingsguard cloak as a shield was when, ironically, a Kingsguard beat and stripped her in front of Joffrey’s court:

“I’d shoot you too, but if I do Mother says they’d kill my uncle Jaime. Instead you’ll just be punished and we’ll send word to your brother about what will happen to you if he doesn’t yield. Dog, hit her.”

“Let me beat her!” Ser Dontos shoved forward, tin armor clattering. He was armed with a “morningstar” whose head was a melon. My Florian. She could have kissed him, blotchy skin and broken veins and all. He trotted his broomstick around her, shouting “Traitor, traitor” and whacking her over the head with the melon. Sansa covered herself with her hands, staggering every time the fruit pounded her, her hair sticky by the second blow. People were laughing. The melon flew to pieces.

Laugh, Joffrey, she prayed as the juice ran down her face and the front of her blue silk gown. Laugh and be satisfied.

Joffrey did not so much as snigger. “Boros. Meryn.”

Ser Meryn Trant seized Dontos by the arm and flung him brusquely away. The red-faced fool went sprawling, broomstick, melon, and all. Ser Boros seized Sansa.“Leave her face,” Joffrey commanded. “I like her pretty.”

Boros slammed a fist into Sansa’s belly, driving the air out of her. When she doubled over, the knight grabbed her hair and drew his sword, and for one hideous instant she was certain he meant to open her throat. As he laid the flat of the blade across her thighs, she thought her legs might break from the force of the blow. Sansa screamed. Tears welled in her eyes. It will be over soon. She soon lost count of the blows.

“Enough,” she heard the Hound rasp.

“No it isn’t,” the king replied. “Boros, make her naked.”

Boros shoved a meaty hand down the front of Sansa’s bodice and gave a hard yank. The silk came tearing away, baring her to the waist. Sansa covered her breasts with her hands. She could hear sniggers, far off and cruel. “Beat her bloody,” Joffrey said, “we’ll see how her brother fancies—”

“What is the meaning of this?”

The Imp’s voice cracked like a whip, and suddenly Sansa was free. She stumbled to her knees, arms crossed over her chest, her breath ragged. “Is this your notion of chivalry, Ser Boros?” Tyrion Lannister demanded angrily. His pet sellsword stood with him, and one of his wildlings, the one with the burned eye. “What sort of knight beats helpless maids?”

“The sort who serves his king, Imp.” Ser Boros raised his sword, and Ser Meryn stepped up beside him, his blade scraping clear of its scabbard.

“Careful with those,” warned the dwarf’s sellsword. “You don’t want to get blood all over those pretty white cloaks.”

“Someone give the girl something to cover herself with,” the Imp said. Sandor Clegane unfastened his cloak and tossed it at her. Sansa clutched it against her chest, fists bunched hard in the white wool. The coarse weave was scratchy against her skin, but no velvet had ever felt so fine.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

There are a lot of things to say about this passage. The first thing is how the knights wearing the white cloaks failed Sansa and how the “no knights” were the ones who tried to help her as much as they each could.

Joffrey ordered the Hound to hit Sansa, but Dontos, the Fool, intervened directly and hit her with his melon morningstar.  The melon juice stained Sansa’s hair and blue silk dress, which I think is a direct reference to the blood orange juice and ivory silk dress passage.  

We don’t know if the Hound would have hit her. Many readers would argue that he wouldn’t, but in the end he just said “enough” but only after Sansa lost count of Boros Blunt blows. Dontos lacked the strength, height and fighting skills of the Hound, but did a bit more than him. Sansa recognizes Dontos attempt to protect her by calling him “My Florian” and thinking she would have kissed his not so handsome face for it.

Then comes Tyrion that actually stopped the beating and orders for someone to give Sansa something to cover herself with. It was at Tyrion’s order that the Hound tossed his Kingsguard cloak at Sansa, so she could cover her nakedness.

Then we have this exchange:

“What sort of knight beats helpless maids?”

“The sort who serves his king, Imp.” Ser Boros raised his sword, and Ser Meryn stepped up beside him, his blade scraping clear of its scabbard.

“Careful with those,” warned the dwarf’s sellsword. “You don’t want to get blood all over those pretty white cloaks.”

Here we can appreciate how the Kingsguard knights that blindly follow their King’s orders without questioning are soiling their white cloaks with the tears and blood of the innocents.  And George wrote a mirror scene with Jon Snow and Samwell Tarly to show us what a True Knight must have done:      

“Let us hope you are not as inept as you look,” Ser Alliser said. “Haider, see what Ser Piggy can do.”

Jon Snow winced. Haider had been born in a quarry and apprenticed as a stonemason. He was sixteen, tall and muscular, and his blows were as hard as any Jon had ever felt. “This will be uglier than a whore’s ass,” Pyp muttered, and it was.

The fight lasted less than a minute before the fat boy was on the ground, his whole body shaking as blood leaked through his shattered helm and between his pudgy fingers. “I yield,” he shrilled. “No more, I yield, don’t hit me.” Rast and some of the other boys were laughing.

Even then, Ser Alliser would not call an end. “On your feet, Ser Piggy,” he called. “Pick up your sword.” When the boy continued to cling to the ground, Thorne gestured to Haider. “Hit him with the flat of your blade until he finds his feet.”

Haider delivered a tentative smack to his foe’s upraised cheeks. “You can hit harder than that,” Thorne taunted. Haider took hold of his longsword with both hands and brought it down so hard the blow split leather, even on the flat. The new boy screeched in pain.

Jon Snow took a step forward, Pyp laid a mailed hand on his arm. “Jon, no,” the small boy whispered with an anxious glance at Ser Alliser Thome.

“On your feet,” Thorne repeated. The fat boy struggled to rise, slipped, and fell heavily again. “Ser Piggy is starting to grasp the notion,” Ser Alliser observed. “Again.”

Haider lifted the sword for another blow. “Gut us off a ham!” Rast urged, laughing.

Jon shook off Pyp’s hand. “Haider, enough.”

Haider looked to Ser Alliser.

“The Bastard speaks and the peasants tremble,” the master-at-arms said in that sharp, cold voice of his.” “I remind you that I am the master-at-arms here, Lord Snow.”

“Look at him, Haider,” Jon urged, ignoring Thorne as best he could. “There’s no honor in beating a fallen foe. He yielded.” He knelt beside the fat boy.

Haider lowered his sword. “He yielded,” he echoed.

Ser Alliser’s onyx eyes were fixed on Jon Snow. “It would seem our Bastard is in love,” he said as Jon helped the fat boy to his feet. “Show me your steel, Lord Snow.”

Jon drew his longsword. He dared defy Ser Alliser only to a point, and he feared he was well beyond it now.

Thorne smiled. “The Bastard wishes to defend his lady love, so we shall make an exercise of it. Rat, Pimple, help our Stone Head here.” Rast and Albett moved to join Haider. “Three of you ought to be sufficient to make Lady Piggy squeal. All you need do is get past the Bastard.”

“Stay behind me,” Jon said to the fat boy. Ser Alliser had often sent two foes against him, but never three. He knew he would likely go to sleep bruised and bloody tonight. He braced himself for the assault.

Suddenly Pyp was beside him. “Three to two will make for better sport,” the small boy said cheerfully. He dropped his visor and slid out his sword. Before Jon could even think to protest, Grenn had stepped up to make a third.

(…)

He could think here, and he found himself thinking of Samwell Tarly… and, oddly, of Tyrion Lannister. He wondered what Tyrion would have made of the fat boy. Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, the dwarf had told him, grinning. The world was full of cravens who pretended to be heroes; it took a queer sort of courage to admit to cowardice as Samwell Tarly had.

—A Game of Thrones - Jon IV

Jon Snow took a step forward, protested and finally defied Ser Allister Thorne orders and fought to protect Samwell Tarly, inspiring Pyp and Green to do the same. Jon Snow, and Pyp and Grenn, did what any of the Kingsguard must have done at the prospect to beat a helpless 12 years old girl in front of the court.  

It’s fascinating how similar both these scenes are; Sansa’s first beating at Joffrey’s court and Samwell first training at Castle Black. GRRM has used a mirror situation: defying an unjust order involving a helpless victim or blindly obeying it; and he also used the same keywords like: “the flat of the blade” and “enough”.  But what make these linked scenes even more fascinating is how similar the characters that play the helpless victim role are: Sansa Stark and Samwell Tarly, and the use of romantic connotations to describe Jon Snow actions regarding Sam.

I have discussed this subject with @lady-in-a-song and @lostlittlesatellites before, how similar Sansa Stark and Samwell Tarly are. They have a lot of common interests and they sure would be the best of friends:

Whatever pride his lord father might have felt at Samwell’s birth vanished as the boy grew up plump, soft, and awkward. Sam loved to listen to music and make his own songs, to wear soft velvets, to play in the castle kitchen beside the cooks, drinking in the rich smells as he snitched lemon cakes and blueberry tarts. His passions were books and kittens and dancing, clumsy as he was. 

—A Game of Thrones - Jon IV

Sam remembered the last time he’d sung the song with his mother, to lull baby Dickon to sleep. His father had heard their voices and come barging in, angry. “I will have no more of that,” Lord Randyll told his wife harshly. “You ruined one boy with those soft septon’s songs, do you mean to do the same to this babe?” Then he looked at Sam and said, “Go sing to your sisters, if you must sing. I don’t want you near my son.”

—A Storm of Swords - Samwell III

And yes, during a few passages in the Books you can read how Samwell prays to the Mother: “Mother have mercy, Mother have mercy, Mother have mercy.”

Also, Allister Thorne calling Sam “Ser Piggy” and “Lady Piggy” reminds me of this meta [x] by @fedonciadale.

So, after reading how similar Sansa and Samwell are, the use of romantic connotations to describe Jon’s actions defending Sam makes me think of the possibility of a future romance between Jon and Sansa:

“It would seem our Bastard is in love,”

“The Bastard wishes to defend his lady love,”

“Three of you ought to be sufficient to make Lady Piggy squeal. All you need do is get past the Bastard.”

Lady Sansa Stark would have enjoyed a story like this one, of a valiant Bastard defending his lady love from her abusers. She would also appreciate Jon’s actions defending Samwell and praise his honor and courage; maybe she would call him a True Night or compare him with a hero from the songs, like she did with Dontos, calling him “My Florian”.

But Samwell Tarly is not the only male-Sansa that Jon Snow met at the Wall, we also have the boy called Satin:

The boy claimed to be eighteen, older than Jon, but he was green as summer grass for all that. Satin, they called him, even in the wool and mail and boiled leather of the Night’s Watch; the name he’d gotten in the brothel where he’d been born and raised. He was pretty as a girl with his dark eyes, soft skin, and raven’s ringlets. 

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VII

“Night gathers, and now my watch begins,” they said, as thousands had said before them. Satin’s voice was sweet as song, Horse’s hoarse and halting, Arron’s a nervous squeak. “It shall not end until my death.”

(…)

He could smell Horse’s unwashed breeches, the sweet scent Satin combed into his beard, the rank sharp smell of fear, the giant’s overpowering musk. He could hear the beating of his own heart. ”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VII

Satin was all grace, dancing with three serving girls in turn but never presuming to approach a highborn lady. Jon judged that wise. He did not like the way some of the queen’s knights were looking at the steward, particularly Ser Patrek of King’s Mountain. That one wants to shed a bit of blood, he thought. He is looking for some provocation.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon X

For a man who doesn’t like the “lady like type” in a woman, Jon Snow has a very strong will to protect Samwell and Satin, two boys considered soft and weak with a lot of feminine inclinations whose descriptions match Sansa’s bit by bit. It’s pretty clear that Jon cares and appreciates both boys, and enjoys their companionship. After all, Sam became his best friend and Satin his steward.

I wonder how Jon would have felt listening Samwell Tarly telling him he likes to dance and sing and eat lemon cakes and wear pretty clothes; or how he would have felt while watching Satin dance gracefully or hearing his sweet voice singing. But this is a subject for another time.  Let’s go back to the white cloaks.

The third time Sansa used a white kingsguard cloak as a shield was during the Battle of the Blackwater.

We all know the context. It’s a very disturbing scene, a rape attempt at blade point, a sexual assault to a 12 year-old girl in her own bed.  In the text you can read how she was feeling: “frightened” “scared” “terrified”  “feared”.

The Hound stopped his actions only after Sansa sang the Mother’s Hymn, a prayer for mercy. But before he left her room he ripped the white cloak he was wearing and left it on the floor. Moments later Sansa crawled out of bed and found the white cloak. A chill wind was blowing, Sansa felt cold. She shook out the torn cloak and huddled beneath it on the floor, shivering.

Every time I read this scene I only can think of a sexual assault victim feeling herself scared, vulnerable, naked, defiled and cold. Sansa felt so cold that when she huddled beneath the white cloak she was shivering. If you make a search for the word “shivering” in Sansa’s chapters, you would only find extremely frightening or sorrowful situations for her. This event deeply traumatized her and that’s why she recalls the event a lot of times in her mind and dreams.

Sansa used the white cloak to protect herself from the cold, and I’m sure the shivers she had, had more to do with the assault she had just suffered than with the chill wind.

So once again, the white fabric alone was her shield, not the man that wore it and left it soiled on the floor.

I have covered the first role that the white kingsguard cloak plays in Sansa’s chapters: being the last vestige of knighthood and chivalry that Sansa grasps at, so she doesn’t lose faith in the concept of true knights.  She keeps that hope and faith hidden deep down inside her, the same way she kept the soiled white cloak hidden in a cedar chest beneath her summer silks. Despite her disillusionment of the knights (the men) she still has hope and faith in the ideals of knighthood, symbolized by the white fabric alone.  

Jon Snow and the White Cloaks

A subtler role that the white Kingsguard cloak plays in Sansa’s chapters is being part of a very interesting imagery of white/off-white fabrics stained with blood and fire, that I believe is a hint of Jon Snow’s true parentage.  Summing up, we have this so far:

An ivory silk dress, “betrothal gift” from Cersei, that Sansa later had to “dye it black” so the “blood and fire stain” couldn’t be seen at all, that reminds us of Lyanna Stark’s betrothal to Robert Baratheon being “stained” by Rhaegar Targaryen. And then, of course, of Jon Snow hidden at the Wall as a Black Brother/Black Knight of the Night’s Watch. 

Sansa’s bedclothes stained with her flowering blood and then with fire to hide the stain, that remind us of Lyanna Stark’s bed of blood after she gave birth Jon Snow, the baby that had to be hidden so his Targaryen identity couldn’t be seen at all.

A shivering Sansa, huddled beneath a white Kingsguard cloak stained with death people blood and wildfire. The blood and wildfire are clearly Targaryen references. But what does Jon Snow have to do with a white kingsguard cloak?

Well, many readers have pointed out the answer already, like @occupyvenus [x]. The cloaks of the Kingsguard knights are often described as white as snow:

Yet the huge man at the head of the column, flanked by two knights in the snow-white cloaks of the Kingsguard, seemed almost a stranger to Ned … 

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard I

The seven knights of the Kingsguard took the field, all but Jaime Lannister in scaled armor the color of milk, their cloaks as white as fresh-fallen snow. 

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

Afterward, Ser Oswell Whent helped Jaime to his feet, and the White Bull himself, Lord Commander Ser Gerold Hightower, fastened the snowy cloak of the Kingsguard about his shoulders. 

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard XV

Cersei’s gown was snowy linen, white as the cloaks of the Kingsguard. 

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa V

And the more evident association between the white cloaks and Jon Snow is said by Jaime Lannister, a Kingsguard himself, in one of Catelyn’s chapters:

“I’ve never lain with any woman but Cersei. In my own way, I have been truer than your Ned ever was. Poor old dead Ned. So who has shit for honor now, I ask you? What was the name of that bastard he fathered?”

Catelyn took a step backward. “Brienne.”

“No, that wasn’t it.” Jaime Lannister upended the flagon. A trickle ran down onto his face, bright as blood. “Snow, that was the one. Such a white name … like the pretty cloaks they give us in the Kingsguard when we swear our pretty oaths.”

—A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VII

So, Sansa huddled beneath a white Kingsguard cloak stained with blood and fire, reminds us of Jon, covered beneath the northern bastard surname Snow, to hide his true parentage as a Targaryen, represented by the stain of blood and wildfire on the white Kinsguard cloak. And this also reminds me of this exchange:    

“Kings are a rare sight in the north.”

Robert snorted. “More likely they were hiding under the snow. Snow, Ned!”

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard I

The blood of the dead in the Battle of the Blackwater reminds us of the blood of the dead after Rhaegar’s actions and the wildfire reminds us of the Aerys’ attempt to destroy King’s Landing with wildfire during Robert’s Rebellion, which was a direct consequence of Rhaegar’s actions.  

Finally, as I said before: i) the stained ivory silk dress represents a betrothal; ii) the stained bedclothes represent giving birth; so following this pattern, the stained white Kingsguard cloak must represent a marriage. I’m going to talk about this linked with the second quote of your question.

THE WINGS OF A BAT OR A DRAGON

Finding Targaryen references in Dany’s chapters is not a surprise, but finding them in Sansa’s chapters is always very interesting.  And even more interesting is the fact that you can find this same imagery of bat/dragon wins directly linked with Sansa in one of Arya’s chapters.  

I wrote about this before in my post Sansa Stark: A Wolf with Dragon Wings. I speculated that the bad/dragon wings imagery foreshadows Sansa wearing a Targaryen Cloak in the future.  Let’s see:

A Targaryen Cloak

In the Books Sansa is in the Vale under the guise of Alayne Stone, eating lemony lemony lemon cakes and trying to charm, entice and bewitch Harry the Arse the Heir, her fourth betrothed:

Harrold Hardyng, often called Harry the Heir and sometimes the Young Falcon, is a gallant, handsome squire, and a ward of Lady Anya Waynwood. He is the heir presumptive of Lord Robert Arryn and would ascend to rule the Vale as “Harrold Arryn” should Lord Robert die without issue. [x]

The Arryn sigil is a sky-blue falcon soaring against a white moon on a sky-blue field. [x]

Shortly before Sansa found out about her fourth betrothal, while observing a blue falcon, she wished she had wings, but not precisely falcon wings; she just wanted to fly from her tower/cage and be free:

A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

Unbeknownst to Sansa, she is imagined by the smallfolk as a ‘winged wolf’ who freed herself from her captors and flew away:

“What wife?”

“I forgot, you’ve been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head.”

That’s stupid, Arya thought. Sansa only knows songs, not spells, and she’d never marry the Imp.

—A Storm of Swords - Arya XIII

Big leather wings remind me of dragons instead of bats, and I think that was GRRM’s intention, to subtly refer to dragon wings:

“Tell me how my child died.”

“He never lived, my princess. The women say …” 

(…)

“They say the child was …”

(…)

“Monstrous,” Mirri Maz Duur finished for him. The knight was a powerful man, yet Dany understood in that moment that the maegi was stronger, and crueler, and infinitely more dangerous. “Twisted. I drew him forth myself. He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and small leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him, the flesh sloughed off the bone, and inside he was full of graveworms and the stink of corruption. He had been dead for years.

—A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

In the center of the Plaza of Pride stood a red brick fountain whose waters smelled of brimstone, and in the center of the fountain a monstrous harpy made of hammered bronze. Twenty feet tall she reared. She had a woman’s face, with gilded hair, ivory eyes, and pointed ivory teeth. Water gushed yellow from her heavy breasts. But in place of arms she had the wings of a bat or a dragon, her legs were the legs of an eagle, and behind she wore a scorpion’s curled and venomous tail.

—A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

Viserion launched himself from the ceiling, pale leather wings unfolding, spreading wide. The broken chain dangling from his neck swung wildly. His flame lit the pit, pale gold shot through with red and orange, and the stale air exploded in a cloud of hot ash and sulfur as the white wings beat and beat again.

—A Dance with Dragons - The Dragontamer

As you can see, dragon wings are usually described similar to bat wings or leather wings; so, the fascinating image of Sansa as a wolf with big leather wings makes me think of Sansa wearing a Targaryen Cloak in the future.  

Again, the possibility of the marriage of a Stark maiden with a Targaryen prince is directly linked with Sansa in the Books.

I think this imagery of Sansa wearing a Targaryen cloak complements the imagery of white/off-white fabrics stained with blood and fire.

As @jennyoldstone has stated regarding the white kingsguard stained by blood and fire [x]: “The white cloak could also represent a Stark maiden’s cloak”.  “A Stark maiden’s cloak stained by fire and blood is quite a heavy foreshadowing for a Stark woman + Targaryen man union, if you ask me… and the cloak itself could also represent Jon - a child born of such union”.

Indeed, the white cloak could also represent a Stark maiden’s cloak.  Let’s take a look at Sansa’s maiden cloak when she married Tyrion Lannister:

Cersei Lannister ignored the question. “The cloak,” she commanded, and the women brought it out: a long cloak of white velvet heavy with pearls. A fierce direwolf was embroidered upon it in silver thread. Sansa looked at it with sudden dread. “Your father’s colors,” said Cersei, as they fastened it about her neck with a slender silver chain.

A maiden’s cloak. Sansa’s hand went to her throat. She would have torn the thing away if she had dared.

Afterward, she could not remember leaving the room or descending the steps or crossing the yard. It seemed to take all her attention just to put one foot down in front of the other. Ser Meryn and Ser Osmund walked beside her, in cloaks as pale as her own, lacking only the pearls and the direwolf that had been her father’s. Joffrey himself was waiting for her on the steps of the castle sept. The king was resplendent in crimson and gold, his crown on his head. “I’m your father today,” he announced.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sansa Stark’s maiden cloak is described as pale as the cloaks of the Kingsguards escorting her.  So, Sansa covered by a white kingsguard cloak stained with blood and fire is probably foreshadowing Sansa wearing her maiden cloak during her wedding with a Targaryen prince.  

And this is also connected to Sansa being betrothed to the Dragon’s heir, that was foreshadowed in Sansa’s first chapter in ACOK:

The morning of King Joffrey’s name day dawned bright and windy, with the long tail of the great comet visible through the high scuttling clouds. Sansa was watching it from her tower window when Ser Arys Oakheart arrived to escort her down to the tourney grounds. “What do you think it means?” she asked him.

“Glory to your betrothed,” Ser Arys answered at once. “See how it flames across the sky today on His Grace’s name day, as if the gods themselves had raised a banner in his honor. The smallfolk have named it King Joffrey’s Comet.”

Doubtless that was what they told Joffrey; Sansa was not so sure. “I’ve heard servants calling it the Dragon’s Tail.”

“King Joffrey sits where Aegon the Dragon once sat, in the castle built by his son,” Ser Arys said. “He is the dragon’s heir—and crimson is the color of House Lannister, another sign. This comet is sent to herald Joffrey’s ascent to the throne, I have no doubt. It means that he will triumph over his enemies.

“Is it true? she wondered. Would the gods be so cruel? Her mother was one of Joffrey’s enemies now, her brother Robb another. Her father had died by the king’s command. Must Robb and her lady mother die next? The comet was red, but Joffrey was Baratheon as much as Lannister, and their sigil was a black stag on a golden field. Shouldn’t the gods have sent Joff a golden comet?

— A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

Joffrey is Jon’s foil here, the bastard disguised as prince/king in the place of the true prince/king disguised as bastard.

Jon is the dragon’s heir and Sansa will be his betrothed and wife.

We also have the Tourney at Ashford Meadow theory that says Sansa Stark’s first betrothed would be a man of House Baratheon, as it actually was. Joffrey Baratheon was Sansa’s first betrothed. And Sansa’s fifth betrothed would be a Prince of House Targaryen. That Targaryen prince is Jon Snow.

For more references about Sansa and Jon betrothal, I highly recommend you to read my dear friend @lady-in-a-song metas: [Part 1] [Part 2].

Summarizing:

The stained ivory silk dress represents the broken betrothal between Lyanna Stark and Robert Baratheon, thanks to the intervention of Rhaegar Targaryen; 

The stained bedclothes represent Lyanna Stark giving birth Jon Snow and dying after.

The stained white Kingsguard cloak represents Jon Snow covered by the northern surname Snow to hide his Targaryen identity and Sansa’s Stark maiden cloak and her future wedding with a Targaryen prince;

The wolf with big leather wings represents Sansa Stark wearing a Targaryen cloak after marrying a Targaryen prince.

The Targaryen prince that is going to marry Sansa Stark is Jon Snow.

Thanks for the Ask Anon, and I hope my answer satisfies you.

[chaoscalled]

What We’ve Become (A Gendrya Fic)

Arya had been walking back from the training grounds when the first dragon flew overhead.  A sight that would be burnt in her mind forever. All black with red in its wings like the fire that lived in its belly was seeping out.  The second dragon was smaller, but no less exhilarating to behold. She had turned then and made her way to the tallest bridge in Winterfell.

She could see the Queen’s caravan, but even from her perch, she was only glimpsing a portion of the armies. Horse lords from the plains of Essos littered the fields with more horses than Arya had ever seen in her life. Along the road, cart after cart of dragon glass was being wheeled toward Winterfell’s forge.  The only thing capable of killing the White Walkers beside Valyrian steel and good old fashioned fire.  And above the slew of soldiers, the twin dragons circled in big, lazy lopes.

Arya knew she should have been down in the courtyard with Bran and Sansa.  She was meant to be down there greeting their new queen.  More than that, she knew she should want to be down there.  Jon was down there.  She hadn’t seen Jon since he’d given her Needle and set off for the Wall.  But she couldn’t bring herself to leave the bridge.  To tear her eyes from the magnificent creatures that were long thought extinct.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, watching the dragons and eyeing the caravan, but the sun had arched its way high into the sky.  Footsteps crunched in the snow behind her.  She stilled.  She didn’t recognize the footsteps.  She kept her eyes trained on the swooping beasts, but her attention was now on her newly arrived company.

“Arya?”

She turned then, at the familiar voice.  His eyes were wide as saucers as he looked at her.  Arya took him in as well.  His hair was longer.  His face harder.  But it was something in his eyes that caught her interest.  He was different.  Different like Bran was different.  Like Sansa was different.  Like she was different.  But there was more to him.  Something she recognized, but couldn’t place quite yet.

“Is it really you?” He asked, breathlessly.

She smiled.  She had to work to put the expression on her face. Had there ever been a time when she had smiled with ease?  Jon had always been her favorite.  She should be grinning like a fool at the sight of him.  But too much had happened for her to smile so easily.  She had seen too much.  Lost too much.  

Jon didn’t seem to notice her struggle.  He crossed the distance between them and scooped her up into his arms.  He’d gotten smaller.  She noticed as he held her.  Or she’d gotten bigger.  She hadn’t thought so before, but she used to have to jump to put her arms around his neck, now she reached it with ease.

As if suddenly sensing Arya’s internal conflict, Jon released her and stepped back.  He was beaming.  Smiling with his whole face the way she should’ve been.  She mimicked his expression, forcing a lightness she did not feel.  One of the dragons screamed in the background drawing both of their eyes back to the sky.

Two dragons, she remembered why that was wrong.  The Dragon Queen was meant to have three dragons.  Three dragons like the Targaryen sigil.  One was missing.

“An army of the dead,” Arya said.  She had heard Jon and a small band of warriors had travelled beyond the Wall to capture a Wight.  They must be more fearsome than any of the stories would have her believe if they were capable of taking down a dragon.

“I’ll protect you,” Jon promised. “You, Sansa, and Bran I’ll keep you all safe.”

He didn’t understand. She wasn’t asking for protection. She only wanted to know what he knew. He’d fought off the White Walkers more than once and he was still standing.  Still, Arya smiled at the sentiment.  It was easier this time.

“Maybe I’ll protect you.”

Jon laughed.  Five years before, even three years before, she would have gotten angry at his laughing.  Arya didn’t get upset when people underestimated her anymore.  She could always twist it to her advantage. She could walk freely wherever she pleased and if anyone tried to harm her, they’d be too close to evade her blade.

“You should come down and meet Daenerys.  She’s nothing like Cersei, I promise.” Jon said after he finished laughing.

“Maybe later.”

Jon frowned.  The old Arya could never say no to him.  Poor Jon.  He still didn’t know that the old Arya was dead.  No matter how hard Arya was trying to revive her.

“You know, if you met her, she might introduce you to her dragons.”

Arya had to admit, that was pretty tempting.  She frowned out at the caravan.  The dragons were circling each other.  They were clearly missing their sibling.  They kept letting out terrible cries.  To anyone else, they might sound frightening, but Arya could hear the mournful sigh in them. Below, the horse lords and Unsullied were setting up tents.  Winterfell wasn’t big enough to house them all within its walls.  Such a large sweeping army and they were all here for Daenerys Targaryen.  Arya turned to face her brother completely.

“Is that Needle?” Jon asked, nodding to her hip.

Arya’s hand dropped to the hilt almost on instinct.  She gave her brother a small smile.  She remembered practicing with Micah after Jon had given it to her.  She remembered her dancing lessons with Syrio after her father had found her with it.  She remembered spearing the stable boy through the gut after her father was arrested. She remembered losing it when the gold cloaks had come for Gendry.  She remembered Polliver using it to kill Lommy.  Arya curled her fist around the grip.

“I’m not sure which gift was better; the sword you gave me or the lessons father arranged to help me use it.”

Jon’s brows shot up in surprise.  “And have you?  Used it?”

Arya patted the hilt. Her expression darkened.  “Not as much as I would have liked.”

“We’re down in the hall,” Jon said after a beat.  “There’s a few more due to come back by tonight.  Daenerys’ general, translator, and our new smith are all down with the Dothraki now, but they should be back for dinner.”  When Arya didn’t reply, he turned to walk away.

“You’ve seen him.” She said, deciding on that look in his eyes.

“Hm?” He asked, turning back to her.

“The God of Death. You’ve seen him.”

Jon paled.  His brow knit together in confusion.  “Who told you that?”

“It’s in your eyes.” She decided against telling Jon about her time in the House of Black and White.  “I’ve seen that look before.  I knew a man who’d been killed and brought back six times by a Priest for the Lord of Light.  Who brought you back?”

“A Priestess called Melisandre.” Jon confessed.  “That man that was brought back six times wouldn’t happen to be Beric Dondarrion?”

It was Arya’s turn to be surprised.  “You’ve heard of him?”

Jon laughed again. “I’ve fought with him.  He was with us when we went beyond the Wall. The Priest who brought him back all those times didn’t make it, but Beric is here with us.”

Arya scowled.  “I’ll kill him.”  She snarled.

Jon put a hand on Arya’s shoulder.  “He’s a good fighter.  We need good fighters.  Whatever squabbles you have with him, stow them away.”

Arya huffed.  She could spare Lord Beric.  She didn’t have to like it, but she didn’t have to kill him. The Red Witch wasn’t going to be so lucky.  Beric may have sold him, but it was the witch that killed him.  When she saw her again, as the witch had promised, it would be the same minute that Arya cut the woman’s throat.

She turned back to the dragons.  Jon stayed for a few minutes more, but left when he realized Arya would say no more. She stayed on the bridge until the dragons disappeared from the sky, following the sun.  She wondered where they had decided to take up roost for the night.  Winterfell was not fit to house such large beasts and Arya knew of no caves for them to sleep in.

Her stomach growled and it would seem she could avoid it no longer.  She had meant to take a bath after her training session that morning. Sansa had insisted that while she need not wear a dress, Arya must at least be clean for the Queen’s arrival. Arya sniffed at herself.  She didn’t smell terrible.  Besides she had no intentions of getting close enough for the Dragon Queen to smell her.

Arya turned for the great hall.  It was time to go make nice with the Targaryen girl.

“Arya!” Sansa scolded in an impeccable imitation of their mother.  “Where on earth have you been?”

Arya stared at her sister stoically until the older girl folded and looked away.  Sansa was still scared of her though she did everything she could to hide it.  Arya knew just as she knew that Sansa truly had nothing to fear.  Arya could no more harm her sister than she could birth a dragon.

“You Grace,” Sansa said, addressing the woman to her left, “may I introduce my younger sister, Arya.”

Arya looked at the silver haired woman.  She’d heard tales of the Targaryens all her life.  How their beauty was otherworldly.  Arya could see now that those tales held true.  Daenerys was gorgeous.  She had creamy skin to rival Sansa’s.  No wonder her sister despised the woman so much though Arya knew it had to do with more than just her looks.  Sansa had wanted nothing more her whole life than to be queen.  She never would with Daenerys and her dragons around.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Arya.” Her voice was stronger than Arya would have guessed.  Strong, but undeniably kind.  “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Arya flicked her eyes over to Jon.  She noticed how close he was sitting to the Queen and remembered how he had called her Daenerys.  No title. Arya bit her lip and turned her eyes back to Daenerys.  She smiled.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to what I’ve heard of you.  And, please, it’s just Arya, Your Grace.  I’m no lady.”

An amused smile danced across the Queen’s plump lips.  Arya couldn’t blame Jon.  Any man would find a woman like her irresistible.  What could it be like, Arya wondered, to wear that face?

“Do we need to make room?” Daenerys asked, unaware of the horrendous thoughts happening in Arya’s head. She looked around the long table for a spare seat for Arya.  Arya looked beyond Jon for the first time and saw that she recognized one more person at the table.  Tyrion Lannister.

“No need, Your Grace, I am perfectly happy sitting down here.”  She gave a small bow and turned away.  She’d be asking Jon about the imp’s presence the moment they were alone again.

“Should’ve guessed you’d be skulking around here.”

Arya felt every muscle in her body lock up.  She turned her gaze up, up, up until she saw his face and could deny it no longer. The Hound was standing in front of her. The bloody fucking Hound.

“You should be dead.” Arya told him as if he had forgotten.

“He should be going hungry,” Jon muttered from his seat.  Arya looked at him curiously.

“How was I to know, eh? You and your stupid mission.”  The Hound growled.

“You’re lucky Queen Daenerys was there to save our asses.” Jon snapped back.

“Not all our asses, Lord Snow.”  Arya cast her eyes on Beric Dondarrion.  He smiled down at her.  “Glad to see you made it home safely, little lady.”

Arya scowled at him. “Shame you didn’t have the chance to sell me off, too.”

Beric opened his mouth. Arya just knew he was going to give her more yarn about how it was for ‘the greater good’ or whatever.  Luckily, Jon stepped in.  Probably more to keep Arya from gutting the scoundrel in front of his new lady love.

“Lord Beric, could I see you for a bit?” Jon was around the table and ushering Beric away from Arya and out of the hall.

“Arya!” Sansa hissed at her.

She looked back at her sister.  Sansa swiped her hand through the air in front of her neck and mouthed the words ‘cut it out’.  Arya rolled her eyes.  The Hound stepped around Arya and bowed in front of Sansa and Daenerys.  He may have earned his way off her list, but Arya still didn’t exactly like the Hound.  He was the antithesis to her father in terms of what a man should be.  He wasn’t noble or refined, but he was alive.  She couldn’t decide if that made her happy or not.

“Where’s Bran?” Arya asked Sansa.

“Same place as always.” Sansa answered, bored.

Arya took a plate of food and sat down to eat.  The hall was brimming with people of all sorts.  She finished her first plate and went back for seconds.  She hadn’t thought about eating since seeing the dragons. Now she couldn’t get enough.  She downed two glasses of ale and sighed, content only after her third helping.

Arya wiped her mouth and stood.  She had no desire to stay in present company any longer than necessary.  Jon was still away with Beric when Arya made her way back to the long table to say her goodnights.  Daenerys smiled at her when she approached again.  Arya forced herself to smile back.

“Are you leaving?”

“I have other matters to attend to.” Arya said delicately.

“Are you sure?  I would like to know you better.  All I have to go on are the stories your brother and Lord Tyrion have told me on our journey here and what little your sister seems to be willing to divulge.”

Arya eyed the imp who seemed entirely too focused on the plate in front of him.  Arya smiled at Daenerys politely.

“There really isn’t much else to know.”

“I don’t believe that. You escaped a whole army of men when you were what?  Ten? Anyone capable of something like that must have only grown more skilled.  And you carry a sword and a dagger.  I don’t know many women that do that.”

“Maybe some other time?” Arya said, desperate to leave the hall.

Daenerys’ face dropped. “Alright, then.”

Arya gave a small bow to Daenerys and a nod to her sister before moving for the exit.  She only made it a few steps before the door opened and a small troop of people lumbered inside.  A dark skinned man with the grimmest face Arya’d ever seen stormed inside followed by a beautiful dark skinned woman and two soldiers.  The door shut behind the fifth person.

Arya’s heart stopped. His hair was shorter.  Almost nonexistent making his ears stick out comically.  But it was him.  Arya gave her head a small shake.  It couldn’t be him.  The witch had killed him.  His blue eyes locked on hers.  His mouth fell open in surprise.  Then, a slow, delicious smile spread across his face.

He stopped a foot or two in front of her, still smiling that easy grin of his and Arya still couldn’t find her breath.  She watched every movement.  She was sure it was still loud in the hall, but her ears were filled with buzzing. Gendry dropped into a low, ridiculous bow.

“M’lady,” he greeted.

Arya let out a small, strangled noise that seemed to start her breathing again.  Gendry straightened back up and looked at her with concern. Arya’s whole body was shaking as she threw her arms around him, hopping up to catch him around the neck.  She felt a bit of pride in how strong she’d become when he had to take a step back to keep his balance.

“You’re alive,” she heard herself gasp.  “You’re alive.  You’re alive! Gendry, you’re alive!” She marveled.

Gendry’s strong arms were around her, squeezing her like they used to.  She buried her face in his neck, surprised at the tears she felt on her cheeks.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried.

“You, too, though it’s not so much a surprise.  You’ll be the only one of us to survive this mess.  I’m sure of it.” Gendry answered, still holding her tight.

“And you!” Arya argued. She had him back!  She couldn’t think about losing him again, now.

Gendry set her down, keeping his hands on her arms.  He smiled down at her face.  His eyes were shining with tears, too, though they had not yet fallen.  He reached up with one hand and tugged the ends of her hair.

“Look how long it’s gotten.” He teased.  “You almost look like a real princess.”

Arya laughed, surprising even herself and reached her hand up to rub his nearly bald head.  “You’ve gone and cut all yours off!  Wanted a sneak preview of what you’ll look like in thirty years?” She teased back.  She hadn’t teased anyone in years.  She hadn’t laughed in longer.

“You come work a forge with hair like that, your head’ll catch fire.” Gendry told her, touching his head, self-consciously.

Arya was still trembling. All she wanted was to hug Gendry again and never let go.  It was an insane desire.  There was an army of undead soldiers marching for them as they spoke and all she wanted was to take Gendry and disappear into the woods.

“Excuse me.” Arya looked up to see the dark skinned woman standing beside them.  “Queen Daenerys would like to speak to you.”  She told Gendry.

Gendry looked startled at the woman’s appearance.  He looked around, abashedly and nodded.  His hands dropped from Arya’s arms and he stepped away from her.  Arya’s heart squeezed.  She didn’t want him to be even one step away from her.  She fought down the impulse to cling to his shirt.

Arya shook herself. It was ridiculous.  She was acting like someone gone mad.  She glanced up at Sansa who was giving her a smug little smile. Arya scowled at her and turned her back, hurrying out of the hall and well away from Gendry.

So distracted was she, that she didn’t notice the drunken red haired man slumped against the stables. She rammed her face into his back toppling them both into the mud.  Arya growled and jumped to her feet.  The red haired man didn’t stand back up.  Arya had a sudden fear that he was dead.  She reached down and pulled him up until he was sitting.

“Hey, hey, are you dead?” Arya demanded.

“Nnno.” The man answered. “Not yet.” His eyes were shut and he was swaying.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Tormund.” He hummed. “You seen a woman around here?”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s a big woman.  Like a bear.  Big, blonde bear.  Lovely woman.” He slurred.

Arya stood up and put her hands on her hips.  The filthy drunk was covered in mud and searching for Brienne.  She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Brienne knew this man in the first place unless it was through combat.

“Arya!” Gendry called behind her.  She yelled at herself to behave.  It was just Gendry.  She didn’t know why she was acting like it was a big deal.  He wasn’t a dragon. He was just Gendry.

Just Gendry grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him.  “Hey, what did you run off for?”

“I didn’t run off.  I was already leaving when you came in.” Arya told him coolly.

“Leaving?” Gendry parroted. “Leaving Winterfell?”

“Leaving for bed.” Arya clarified, though she didn’t think she should need to.

“Oh.” Gendry tucked his hands under his arms and tried to hide a shiver.  “I just thought….”

“You’re the new smith Jon was talking about, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Gendry laughed. “Well, there’s loads of new smiths right now, yeah?  The forge is being added onto as we speak.  Jon’s made me overseer.  Sounds like a good thing, but any mistakes in the weapons comes down on me now.”

Arya smiled at him. “You can handle it.  You’re the best.”

Gendry smiled and looked down at the mud and snow at their feet.  He looked back at the hall when the door opened and a couple soldiers filtered out.  He cleared his throat.

“Surprised to see the Hound still walking around.  I figured he was good as dead the second you laid eyes on him.”

Arya frowned.  “Why would you assume that?”

“Well he was on your list, wasn’t he?  Joffrey, Cersei, Ilyn Payne, Meryn Trant, the Mountain, and the Hound.” Gendry recited.

“You remembered my list?”

Gendry chuckled. “Arya, you must’ve recited that list in my ear a million times a night.  Sometimes when I’m working, I start saying it as I swing my hammer.  I heard Meryn Trant was killed in a brothel in Braavos and Joffrey choked to death at his own wedding.  You take out the Hound and you’ll be half through your list.”

Arya shook her head. “I already took him off.”

“Why?”

Arya shrugged.  “I just did.”

“Well someone oughta kill him after what he did North of the Wall.” Gendry grumbled.

Arya stared at him. “North of the Wall.  You went North of the Wall?”

Gendry smirked. “Jealous?”

Arya smacked his arm. “Idiot!”

Gendry laughed.  He nodded to the red haired man on the ground behind her.  “He went, too.  I think you’d really like it up there, you know.  It’s all wild and dangerous.  We were attacked by an undead bear soon as we stepped foot outside Eastwatch.  Oh, you’d love it.”

Arya rolled her eyes.  She was a bit jealous, but there was something else. She was angry that Gendry had risked White Walkers and nearly got himself killed before she’d gotten to see him again.

They stood in silence for a bit.  There was so much to say between them it seemed neither of them knew where to start. She didn’t know what to ask him first. She wanted to know more about what happened with the White Walkers.  She wanted to know where he’d been all this time.  How he had survived the Red Witch.  Why he hadn’t tried to find her sooner to let her know he wasn’t dead.  

“What happened?” Gendry asked, beating her to it.

Arya looked up at him. Searching for clarity.  Was he asking why she hadn’t chased after him when they’d tied him up and thrown him in the back of a cart like luggage?  Why she hadn’t fought tooth and nail to keep him at her side?

“When I heard about the Red Wedding – about your brother and mother – I kept waiting for news of you. The Brotherhood was taking you to them and I thought if they’d taken you there, you’d be dead.  I thought, surely not.  Not Arya.  I didn’t know your brother, but I knew you and I thought maybe they could get the best of the King in the North, but not my Arya.”

“I got there in the middle of it all.” Arya told him, ignoring the thrill that ran up her spine at hearing him call her ‘his Arya.’  “I couldn’t do anything to stop it, but I saw.  I saw when they paraded my brother’s body around with Grey Wind’s head sewn on his body where his head should’ve been.  But the Freys didn’t know I was there.  They didn’t see me.  None of them ever saw me until it was too late.” She finished, darkly.

“That was you, then? The Frey massacre?”

Arya scoffed. “Massacre. They only drank poison.  It was a kinder death than any of them deserved.”

Gendry frowned.  “How many people have you killed now?”  The question was only curious.  There was no judgement behind it.  Not like when Sansa had asked.  Or demanded.  Arya shrugged.  “You don’t know or you don’t want to tell me?”

“I guess I just stopped counting.”

There was a pause. The silence between them twisted in the air and threatened to strangle the very breath from Arya.  She didn’t know if she could handle Gendry being horrified by her.  Anyone but him.

“So unladylike.” He said at last.

Arya’s eyebrows shot up and she barked out a surprised laugh.  Relief washed over her. She pushed Gendry, lightly.  He caught her hand up when she pulled away and gave it a small squeeze.

“What about you?  I thought for sure that witch was going to kill you.”

“No.” Gendry said.  He flushed, curiously.  “She was going to, but she didn’t.”

Arya frowned at his red face, visible even in the low moonlight. Behind her, Tormund let out a laugh that sounded more like he was choking.  Arya looked down at him.

“She tied the boy to the bed and had her way with ‘im!” He crowed.

Arya looked back to Gendry for denial.  He only burned brighter.  Arya felt a crazy, jealous rage in her gut.  It didn’t make any sense, the jealousy.  The rage she understood completely.

“She put leeches on me.” Gendry muttered pathetically.

“She didn’t kill you.” Arya snapped back.

Gendry was quiet.  He shot a withering glare at Tormund on the ground who only laughed harder.  Arya was warring with herself.  She wanted to leave.  To go to bed. But at the same time, she didn’t want to let Gendry out of her sight.  Not ever again.

Arya huffed and turned for her room.  Gendry’s hand shot out to grab her, but she evaded him neatly.

“Arya, come back!” Gendry cried.  “What about Tormund?”

“You like redheads so much, you take care of him.” She lobbed back without stopping.

Also available HERE on AO3!!!

[dazzlingphoenix]

Dragons of Lockra: The Shards of Dawn Light

Chapter 6: A Dark Morning

    The morning was dreary and cloudy, much reflecting the mood of the castle. Rain pattered harshly against the mountain, while thunder rumbled off in the distant Talons of The Heros.

    A brisk knock at the door had stirred the princess from her sleep. Kaia had told her that her presence with the Queen was needed, and so she double checked that the scrolls were safe and trotted down the stairs with the guardsdragon. The walk down the tower was quick and quiet, unusual for Kaia who was usually quite talkative. The guardsdragon guided Veneasha to the throne room where her mother was.

    The throne room was abuzz with the soft murmurs of guards. Queen Ruby was standing by her throne instead of sitting, talking to a large brown dragon in front of her. Veneasha trotted over next to her mother and gave a bow to the visitor.

    “King Briar of the Thorn Runners,” She said curtly, looking back up to the young leader. “What brings you to our castle?”

    “Hello Princess Veneasha,” The king smiled down at her. “I was sent here upon hearing that one of my subjects had gone missing near the border of our tribes. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

    “Yes, I do,” The princess gave King Briar a sharp look. “Your subject in question had entered our castle uninvited and was en route to steal important documents from us.”

    “I hope you have a good explanation for this, Briar,” Ruby told him lowly. “Or else you and your tribe are going to get into some trouble.”

    “Now now, let’s not get too feisty here,” The king chuckled. “You still need to hear my end of this silly tale.” Veneasha’s mother leaned down to her, still making eye contact with the king.

    “Go get your siblings,” Ruby told her. “It appears we’re going to have a Court of Royals today.”

    “Yes, mother.” Veneasha nodded, an excited smile curling onto her muzzle. She took off running to her brother’s room, her tail swaying behind her. She wound around the castle halls, knowing each and every shortcut to the grand mountain palace.

    A Court of Royals, The princess thought to herself. I haven’t seen one of those in person before! The princess finally found the prince’s door, covered in gold and citrine gems.

    “Valor,” Veneasha called, knocking on the door. “Mom needs us right now, we’re going to have a Court of Royals with King Briar today.”

    “Court of Royals?” Her brother asked lazily from inside. “What’s that?”

    “Valor you nincompoop,” The princess groaned with annoyance. “I’ll explain it on the way to Vara’s room. Just get out here!” A similar annoyed groan sounded from Valor as he opened the door and stood by his sister. They took their time and walked the long way to their eldest sister’s room, Valor starting their chat.

    “So, the Court of Regals-”

    “Royals.” Veneasha interjected.

    “Right.. The Court of Royals,” Valor continued. “What’s it about?”

    “The Court of Royals is an ancient event that can be traced back to Disyun’s time,” The princess started to explain. “It’s when two tribe leaders get into an argument and want to discuss it rationally instead of using their claws. Each royal dragon from both tribes must meet in a room and discuss the problem to try and avoid war.”

    “Sounds boring,” The prince sighed. “Reading a book sounds more interesting than that!” They both laughed as they arrived at Vara’s door.

    “Hey Vara,” Veneasha called out, knocking on the door. “We’re having a Court of Royals with Briar. Mom needs us in the throne room.”

    “I will be down in a minute,” The heir responded from within. “Tell mother I am preparing.” Veneasha rolled her eyes before agreeing and trotting back towards the throne room, Valor by her side.

    When they made it to the throne room, Vara had caught up with the siblings. The room had cleared out beside a scribe and a few guards for the family’s protection. They all sat in their respective thrones while their mother stood, waiting for the guest to join. King Briar wasted no time, entering the room with an unnecessary amount of flamboyancy.

    “King Briar of the Thorn Runner Tribe,” Ruby said in a serious voice. “You have been called to defend yourself in this Court of Royals. We shall bring out the dragon that had violated our borders for you to speak with.” She walked back to her throne as a guard pulled out the chained up dragon, who was walking without resistance. The dragon pulled off his muzzle clamp but kept his wings and tail secure.

    “Your Majesty and your highnesses,” Briar chuckled. “Threadspinner here was just getting something for me. I had received a message that there were some scrolls to pick up from your castle, and so I sent someone to get them!”

    “Do you have the message to prove it?” Ruby asked, narrowing her eyes onto his. The king nodded and held out a small scroll. A guard walked forward and grabbed the scroll from him. Unfolding it, he read aloud.

    “King Briar, there are scrolls of major importance for you or one of your dragons to pick up here at Sunpeak Castle. It is important you get them as soon as possible. Signed..” The guard looked at Ruby, confusion etched into his face. “No one signed this scroll, your Majesty.”

    “Really?” Briar asked, a nervous cough escaping his snout. Veneasha instantly stood up from her chair, narrowing her eyes onto the young ruler.

    “You mean to tell us that you sent a dragon to fetch scrolls because of an anonymously written letter?” The princess asked, a snarl edging into her voice. She saw her mother look with interest as well.

    “No,” The king, stammered. “I, um, trusted the dragon that had written it!” He claimed.

    “Then who wrote it?” Vara asked, her tail sweeping at the ground absentmindedly. Ruby stood up as well, looking down at the young king.

    “Unless the one who wrote was of my advisory team, scribe team, or royal guardsdragons, I do not care who wrote it.” The queen told him threateningly. “If you are falsifying records to justify theft, you’ll be in a lot more trouble than you already are, young dragon.”

    Veneasha saw the dragon beside the king, now known as Threadspinner, look down at his talons. He still had his semi-burnt cloak on underneath the restraints. Looking closer, she saw a piece of parchment tucked into a pocket on the inside. The princess turned to fully look at the younger Thorn Runner.

    “Threadspinner,” She asked. “What is that in your pocket?” The young dragon flinched at the sound of his name. He reached into the pocket reluctantly and pulled out the paper.

    “It’s.. paper, your highness..” He said, not making eye contact with the princess. Veneasha looked over at her mother.

    “Mother, I ask your permission to give something to Threadspinner,” She told her curtly. “I have a suspicion that I want to make sure is addressed.” When Ruby nodded, Veneasha gave her a small bow before trotting down to the cuffed Thorn Runner.

    “Do you know how to write?” She asked him. When Threadspinner nodded, the princess looked over at one of the guards. “Get me a pencil, please.” The guard nodded and trotted off, coming back with a charcoal pencil. Veneasha handed the writing utensil to the green dragon.

    “What do you want me to do with this?” He asked quietly.

    “Write your name and a sentence or two on that paper,” Veneasha told him. “I want to compare something.” She watched as the dragon slowly wrote his name as nicely as he could. While he wrote, the princess walked over to the king.

    “Your Majesty, may I see the letter?” She asked, holding out her talon.

    “Why do you need to see it?” King Briar asked defensively, clutching the letter tighter.

    “I want to compare the writing on that letter to Threadspinner’s writing,” Veneasha explained. “Just to see if he had written the letter himself.” Soft murmurs from other dragons softly hummed in the room as she stared at the king, her talon still outstretched.

    “..I will let you compare it,” Briar hesitantly agreed. “So long as I hold it.”

    “As you wish, your Majesty.” Veneasha sighed, setting her talon back onto the floor. She trotted back to Threadspinner who quickly finished and handed the paper to the princess. She turned to King Briar and gestured for him to come closer. He slowly walked over and held out the letter. Veneasha then placed Threadspinner’s paper next to it.

    “It’s a match, your Majesty.” Veneasha said sharply, looking up at the king.

    “Are you sure,” He asked anxiously. The princess looked at her mother and siblings, gesturing for them to walk over as well. Ruby, still standing, walked over quickly. Vara briskly walked after her, while Valor trudged over, dragging his tail.

    “It is a match indeed, Briar.” Queen Ruby told him lowly.

    “A forged letter to intrude on our castle,” Vara said in a quiet hiss. “That sounds like it can get you into trouble.” The king looked frantic as he pulled away his letter from the princess.

    “I’m sorry, your Majesty,” Briar said to the queen. “It won’t happen again, I promise! Please don’t tell the others.”

    “Don’t tell the others?!” Ruby bellowed, her fuse finally burning away. “King Briar, you can bet your tail I WILL tell the others during the next new moon! You deserve whatever punishment sent your way because of this! You are not a prince anymore, so act like it!

    “Guards!” The queen ordered, snapping her muzzle to the dragons lining the walls. “Escort this sorry excuse for a ruler out of my castle! And as for his friend, throw him back into the prison!”

    Veneasha watched as hefty dragons in armour walked up to the king and nudged him out to the door. She let the paper written by the prisoner to drift from her talons and onto the floor.

    “That was boorriinngg,” Valor groaned, throwing his head back to look lazily at the ceiling. “Why did I have to be here for it?”

    “So you could witness it, Valor.” Vara told him curtly, trotting back in the direction of her room. Her brother followed, presumably to lounge in his own room while Veneasha stayed with her mother.

    “That was interesting to say the least,” Veneasha remarked, glancing at the tall and still quite angry dragon. “I hope he had learned his lesson.”

    “Oh I’m sure of it.” Ruby hissed, turning and walking back to her throne. She hefted herself up and relaxed on the cushioned chair with a sigh, closing her eyes and rubbing them tirefully.

    “Mother,” The princess started. “There something I wanted to tell you.” She trotted over to her own thrown, sitting up straight with nerves.

    “What is it, Veneasha,” Her mother asked. “And how could it possibly be any worse than the situation as of now?”

    “Well,” The princess said in a high pitch, glancing away from her mother. “Let me just get the scroll.” Without waiting for a response, Veneasha fluttered down and trotted back to her room. She reached under her bed and pulled out the wooden box, brushing some of the dust off of it.

    She grabbed a scroll and opened it, reading a few key words to see if it was the scroll she was looking for. When it wasn't, Veneasha rolled it back up, shoved it back into the box, and opened up another. When she finally found the certain scroll, the princess trotted quickly back down the stairs to the throne room.

    Veneasha stood in front of her mother and coughed slightly to get her attention. Ruby jostled up, opening her eyes to look down at her daughter.

    "This scroll I had read last night has me very worried, mom." The princess admitted, unrolling it again. She gazed at the words and took a deep breath, starting to recite the ominous message.

    "Harbinger of Shadows, our task is the hardest of all. You shall acquire an egg and start the ritual like the others. However, you shall pierce the shell with a crystal and let a shard enter the egg. This will initiate the transformation. Get this egg to the other blackened ones and flee with this scroll. The new Prince of Feathers will arise in seven days time. We're counting on you the most, Harbinger of Shadows."

    Veneasha lowered the scroll to see the queen's rare worried gaze. She had sat up more alertly and was staring at the princess intently.

    "Are you sure that's what that says?" Ruby asked flatly, though concern shown in her eyes. Veneasha nodded, wondering if the same concern was in her eyes as well.

    "Where are you keeping the eggs," Veneasha asked, quickly setting aside the scroll. "Because if this scroll is right, we might have a bigger problem than just the Thorn Runners."

    "This way, quickly now." Queen Ruby abruptly got up from her throne and trotted off, almost in a run. Veneasha followed at the same speed, rushing after her mother. They ran through wide corridors, leading to what the princess barely recognized as the royal hatchery.

    That egg could cause major chaos, Veneasha thought to herself, running towards the old room she was hatched in. If it’s true that the egg would hatch into a prince. Her mother crashed into the door, alarming the guards stationed there.

    “Where are the black eggs?” Ruby asked, alarm spiking her voice.

    “In the corner, your Majesty.” A guardsdragon said hurriedly, pointing over to a mass of black lumps. Veneasha sprinted over and inspected the eggs, running her talons over the tops to try and find the hole.

    “The scroll said one of the eggs was pierced with a crystal,” The princess said, still looking at them intently. “Get over here and help me find it!” Veneasha grabbed an egg and started to look over it, running the palms of her talons to try and locate a chip or hole in the shell. Four other guards ran over and started looking over them as well. She stared at every groove on the egg, making sure it was still intact.

    “I found the hole, your highness!” A guard called out. Veneasha snapped her attention over to them, hurrying over after setting the egg she was looking at down. Ruby ran over as the guardsdragon pointed to a small hole in the egg’s shell. The princess looked up at her mother, worry etched into her face.

    “What do we do with this egg,” Veneasha asked. “Do we shatter it or just keep it away from the others?” All eyes were on the queen as she thought, though it looked like her mind was blank from shock.

    “..Keep the egg away from the others,” Ruby finally spoke. “So long as the dragon inside isn’t a monster, they will be sent back to their families once they hatch. And that goes for all black eggs.

    “Also,” She added. “Don’t let any of the escaped dragons return to these eggs. They are now wanted criminals.” The guards nodded and returned silently to their positions, the one who had found the hole dragging the punctured egg to a different corner of the room. Veneasha looked up at her parent.

    “What should I do now, mother?” Veneasha asked quietly.

    “Do as you please for now,” The queen sighed, turning to return back to the throne room. “I will call for you if more scrolls are found.”

    “Yes mother.” The princess nodded, following her out of the hatchery. Veneasha continued down the hall when the queen turned down a separate corridor. She could hear the patter of rain as she neared one of the balconies overlooking the base of the mountain.

    With a tiresome sigh, Veneasha sat on a cushioned chair on the covered outlook. The distant cracks of lightning shone brightly in the northern mountains, lighting up the dark grey sky. She watched as dragons remained in their dens, preferring not to get drenched in the soaking weather. The only dragons out flying were guardsdragons in their silvery armour, heading to do their usual patrols.

    A flash of light from the storm lit up one of the groups heading for the Thornvine Forest border, giving her a quick glance at their scales. Veneasha did a double take as she saw a yellow tail wisp behind one of the larger dragons.

     Yellow scales? The princess asked herself, sitting up straighter to try and get a better look. But the only dragon with those colored scales is..

     Valor?

[noquirk-a]

i’ve made a hc post about this before but i deleted it ( i think ) so let me point it out again but : izuku has freckles covering him almost entirely. from his face to his chest to his legs and arms, generally everywhere. he’s covered in them and it’s something he got from his dad! he isn’t exactly proud of it, truth be told he isn’t proud of it at all, which is why he wears clothes that cover almost his entire body. 

[noquiirk-blog]

taglist.

who thought it’d be funny‚ to mold you to a tragedy? / self even air tastes like blood now. you can’t inhale‚ nor exhale. / isms you’re the only one who’ll call bloodstained pretty. / aes. your canary sings elegies. it’s not pretty. / mp3. here‚ i’ll tell the tale on how your wings burnt. / hc. this is a slaughterhouse : there’s blood everywhere. / ask.

you are monday mornings & cold cups of coffee. / creepquirk you’re the only blade i’ll press against my tongue. / coldbrn

i saw you die ( finally ) once & called it a dream. / bakugou tba

[idabbleincrazy]

A Fish May Love A Bird

Pairing: GabrielxReader

Characters: Gabriel, Sam, Dean, Cas, au!Charlie Bradbury, Rowena, Jack Kline, mentions of other bunker residents

Word Count: 8009 (aaaahhhhh!!!! how did that happen?!)

Warnings: angst, some fluff, major blood loss, jealousy, idk what else

Summary: Gabriel wants to throw a Halloween masquerade. Reader is starting to realize feelings that weren’t there before. (i still suck at summaries)

A/N: this was inspired by this month’s Trope prompt on @gabriel-monthly-challenge Prompt: Mistaken or hidden identity because someone is in a costume or mask. It started out as a small idea, and snowballed from there. took inspiration from the movie Ever After (switched up the quote a bit to fit the characters better).

One Week Till Halloween

You were in the kitchen when you heard the bunker door thud shut. Cas and Dean were sitting at one of the tables in the library looking for a new case. You went about fixing dinner for your various new housemates until you heard Sam call for you from the library. You set the timer on the oven and walked out to see what he wanted.

“Yeah, Sam?” You walked into the library and saw the three men standing around a huge package set on one of the tables.

“Did you order something, y/n? This was waiting for us at the post office, but there’s no name on it. It’s just addressed to our P.O. Box; there’s no return address either.” Sam looked over to you as Cas reached out to the box slowly, face scrunched up as though trying to sense if there was anything unnatural inside it.

“No, I haven’t ordered anything since before our last case. Maybe one of the new guys did?” You walked over to the table and inspected the box. The box itself was unremarkable, but the shipping label, oddly enough, was handwritten in a long flowing script, almost as though it had been made with a quill. It was strange, to say the least.

Dean looked up from the box and shook his head. “No. We haven’t told any of them the address to it yet. Sam, go grab an E.M.F. meter, would ya? See if there’s anything haunted or cursed in there before we just go tearing it open.”

Sam went to grab the one he kept in his room and hurried back. He turned it on and moved it over the box, but nothing triggered it. Setting the meter down on the table, Sam pulled the box closer, reaching to undo the tape on the side of the wrapping.

“Ah, ah, ah, Sammy. Isn’t it a federal crime to open other peoples’ mail?���

The four of you whipped around, weapons drawn automatically to face the unexpected voice.

“Brother”, Castiel sighed, slowly lowering his angel blade.

“Goddammit, Gabriel! We could have shot you, you know?” Dean holstered his gun, exasperated as always with the Archangel’s habit of turning his appearances into a jump-scare. “And what do you care if we open the box, anyways?”

“I care because it’s mine. I had wanted to make it a surprise for everyone, but Samsquatch beat me to it.” Gabriel sauntered from the entryway, stopping by your side, and taking the box from Sam.

You raise an eyebrow in curiosity and ask, “So, what’s the surprise then?”

“Well, sweet cheeks, I could tell ya, but I’d rather show ya.” He scoops the box into his arms and turns to walk back the way he came. The four of you stare at him in confusion as he stops in the doorway, calling over his shoulder, “Make sure everyone gathers here after dinner, okay?”

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips as he continues back to his room. What the hell? Now, you were even more curious about his big secret. You turn back to the guys and shake your head. You decide there’s nothing for it but to wait and see, so you head back to the kitchen to finish up the cooking. The sooner everyone eats, the sooner you get to find out what’s in the box.

As you wait for the casserole to finish so you can start baking the variety of pies you prepared for dessert, you let your mind wander back to Gabriel. You had been hunting with the boys for a few years now and had heard quite a few stories about the tricky Archangel. When you had met him a few months ago, after Ketch had rescued him, and after he completed his ‘Kill Bill’ mission, the two of you had quickly developed a friendship. You found his silly puns and flirty looks a refreshing change from all the overprotective-brother vibes you’d received from the Winchesters and Cas.

Of course, you always gave as good as you got. He’d give you one of his smoldering smirks and you would toss back a playful wink and a bubbly giggle. You knew it was all in good fun, and what could you say; you enjoyed the attention. The band of survivors you guys had brought back from apocalypse world were nice and all, but none of the guys seemed to care much for actual flirting. You couldn’t really blame them though, they were nearly a decade out of practice. Those guys, they preferred to jump straight to the finish line. You, on the other hand, preferred the thrill of the chase; even if you didn’t get caught in the end. That’s what made Gabriel such good company. At least, until recently. Lately, something in the dynamic had shifted. When he winked at you, sometimes you would feel a shiver start its way up your spine. Or you would feel your heart start to race when he made one of his flirty comments. Somewhere along the line, you had started to fall for that golden-eyed trickster.

The buzzing of the oven timer brought you out of your thoughts and you shook your head to clear it. You heaved a sigh as you took out the casserole, and nearly dropped it as you realized that in your distracted state, you had only put on one oven mitt. You let out a loud hiss at the pain, quickly setting the dish down on the counter. Running over to the sink, you turned the water as cold as it would get and shoved your hand under the faucet to stop the heat from causing further damage.

You let out a curse as you kept your hand there for a minute. After you pulled your hand from under the water, you gave it a close look. It had turned an ugly red color in a big patch on your palm. You tentatively tried closing your hand and immediately let out a yelp. You called out for angelic help. You had meant to send out a mental call to Cas but at the last second, your brain switched gears and reached out for Gabriel. Help.

He appeared before you with a soft flutter of hidden wings, on full alert at your less-than-specific plea. His shoulders relaxed when he saw there was no one else in the room. He steeped over to you, eyebrows knit in confusion. “Jeez, cupcake! A cry like that, I was ready for some serious trouble. What happened?”

His eyes softened when he saw the way that your jaw was clenched and how you cradled your burning hand close to your chest.

“Just me being a klutz again. Burned my hand taking dinner out of the oven”, you gritted through your teeth.

He slowly pulled your hand towards him and placed a finger on the center of your palm as gently as he could. Soft, while light glowed from it and you could feel the pain receding as your skin returned to its healthy, normal shade. You looked up at him and could see a spark of blue fading from his eyes as his Grace settled back within him. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sugarplum. Besides, can’t have you going off fighting monsters with a burnt hand, can we”, he winked at you, still holding your hand in his. “Now, I’ll just let you get back to it. I’m sure everyone’s good and hungry by now.”

With that, he let your hand drop from his and leaned in to place a gentle kiss to your forehead, as he often did any time you had gotten injured. Your eyes had closed at the touch and you didn’t open them till after you heard his tell-tale flutter of wings. You sighed and leaned your head back against a cabinet. What have you gotten yourself into now, you thought as you got back to putting the pies in the oven. You have got to get a grip.

————————————————–

You managed to finish cooking everything without further incident and were just bringing out dessert when Gabriel and Castiel showed up to join everyone at the two long tables that now occupied the newly proclaimed dinning area. Being angels, they didn’t need to eat of course, but both of them usually came out for dessert or even just for the company. Angels weren’t meant to be solitary beings, after all. The pair of them took their seats as Dean went about passing out slices of pie to everyone.

Gabriel catches your eye from across the table and shoots you a quick wink, grabbing a slice of the double-chocolate mousse pie you knew he tended to favorite. You smiled back softly, feeling a sigh catch in your throat. You vaguely hear Charlie saying something to you on your left and manage to pull your attention away from the sugar fiend to focus on her. “Sorry, what?”

Charlie giggles quietly and quirks an eyebrow at you. “I was just saying how great this pumpkin pie is. There’s no way this came out of a can. Your baking game is definitely on tonight, I’m kinda jelly.”

“Thanks, Char. I’m glad you like it, it’s a family recipe, much better than store bought. If you want, I can teach you how to make it. I could use some help with the desserts, Sam and Dean are awful at it.” You continue a light conversation with Charlie as everyone enjoys their pie. Your attention now fully redirected, you fail to notice how often Gabriel flicks his gaze over to you.

Soon enough, plates are empty, silverware set down and conversations are winding down as the feeling of full and satisfied bellies start to lull everyone in to a relaxed state. Before anyone can leave the room, Sam stands up and asks you all to meet in the library in five minutes, and your interest is once again sparked as you remember about Gabriel’s secret delivery. Cas is on clean up duty tonight, which takes all of two seconds as he snaps the dishes from the table, cleaned and put back in their respective cabinets and drawers. You follow the others to the library where you and Dean immediately head over to get a drink from the Men of Letters stash of aged whiskey. You pour out two glasses and head over to where Charlie is standing and hand her one. Three minutes later, Gabriel enters, carrying the large box from earlier, still unopened.

“So, Gabriel, end the suspense already. What’s the big surprise”, Dean asks, throwing him an annoyed look.

“Well, I thought that since Halloween is right around the corner, and you guys haven’t had the chance to celebrate a holiday in, like, forever, why not throw a party? And not just any party; a masquerade!” With that, he snaps open the box and pulls out its contents to reveal a bunch of masks, no two alike.

“A party?” Sam starts objecting, “Look, I really don’t think…”

“No! He’s right.” You look up from the pile of masks on the table and face Sam. “We should celebrate. We deserve to. Lucifer is dead, Michael is stuck in that other world forever, things haven’t been this close to normal in a very long time. What more reason do we need?” You stare at Sam, hope in your eyes. You truly do believe a night of fun will do everyone a world of good.

Sam glances over at Dean, a silent conversation being played out between them as the rest of you just sit there. After a minute, Dean simply shrugs and walks back over to the whiskey, bringing the bottle back to the table to pass around. “Okay. Masquerade it is, then. Well, Gabriel, tells us all the rest of your idea.”

“Oh, thank Father! I thought I was gonna have to do a bit more convincing to get the Buzzkill Brigade on board.” Gabriel smirked up at Sam, who just groaned and rolled his eyes. “Anywho, back to business. This isn’t gonna be just your average costume party. I’m talking full-scale Ball, capital ‘B’! And, to keep things interesting, with everyone’s consent of course, I’d like to have Rowena cast a spell that will distort everyone’s vision, just enough to not be able to discern any identifying factors. You know, height, eye color, all that jazz.” Gabriel looked over at Rowena questioningly. She simply nodded in response.

“Is that really necessary, brother?” Castiel quirked his head, confused.

“Of course, it’s not necessary, little bro. It just makes it more fun! Jeez, have learned nothing in the past ten years?” Gabriel looked back at his brother in disbelief before turning back to the rest of the hunters who were actually starting to look quite interested in the idea. “As I was saying, no one is going to be able to identify each other until they choose to reveal themselves. This spell will also be placed on Cas and myself just to keep things fair. Now, so that no one will know who picked which mask, I’ve made it so that each of you can simply think of the mask you want, and it will get sent to your room. If someone has already chosen the mask, you’ll hear a little buzzer go off in your mind letting you know to pick another one, if not, you’ll hear a ding. So, if all of you would come over and look through the pile and make your decisions.

Gabriel stepped back to let everyone gather around the table and you got up to join them. You were surprised that even Ketch and Bobby seemed begrudgingly intrigued by the whole thing; they too were sifting through the masks, Ketch making a face every now and then at absurdity of some of them. You started looking through the pile, stopping here and there to admire a few of the more unique ones; a black old-fashioned Venetian mask with a silver pattern on it, a brass deer mask with antlers and even ears sticking out from it, a golden-colored wolf one and even a feathered mask with horns on either side that looked quite devilish.

Finally, you landed on particular mask and somehow knew immediately it was the one you wanted. It had two white Koi fish wrapped around the eyes with ornate sky-blue fins making up the rest of the face. The detail put into it was beautiful. You gently set it back down and kept the image of it firmly in your mind. Two seconds later, you heard a soft ding inside your head. You spent another minute looking around at the masks just to throw off the scent if anyone happened to be paying any attention. Although you weren’t sure why, you felt yourself getting swept up in the moment and wanted to be sure you did this right. If Gabriel wanted everyone to be strangers for the party, then a stranger you would be.

A few minutes later, everyone seemed to have made their decisions as, all at once, the masks evaporated into thin air. Resisting the urge to run straight to your room to check for your mask, you walked over to join Gabriel, Castiel, and the Winchesters as the rest of the group dispersed for the night, most of them still abuzz with plans to go shopping for costumes to wear. It made your heart light to see them so happy for once. The survivors had gone through so much over the past nine years, they deserved to have some fun, without having to worry about what might be lurking out in the night. It had taken a couple months for them to get adjusted to this world, but most of them seemed to be doing quite well. Freedom can a lot for a person.

You sat down between Sam and Gabriel and reached over to grab the bottle from Dean that was, surprisingly, still half full. “So, what on Earth made you decide we needed a party, Gabriel?”

“Well, you know me, I love a good party. This seemed like the perfect reason. Besides, what you said to Sam was exactly the case I was gonna make. You guys have been hunting non-stop for years, the people we brought back have been fighting for their lives for the longest time, and…well, I thought it was high time Jack got to let loose and have some fun.”

It didn’t escape your notice, the way he skirted past his own horrible experiences over the past nine years. You gave him a warm smile as you felt your heart squeeze in your chest at the thought of what he had been through. He had opened up to you a bit more than he had with the boys about what Asmodeus had done to him. He was far from fully recovered; you doubted he ever would be, but his Grace was back completely now and his mind seemed to wander less.

“I gotta admit, I’m already excited about it. I’m sure it’ll be a great way for Jack to spend his first Halloween. Just don’t forget, he’s got a soft spot for nougat.” With that, you got up, hugged everyone good night and headed back to your room.

Sure enough, your Koi mask was there, waiting for you on your pillow. You picked it up to look it over again, before placing it carefully in the warded lock-box you kept under bed. Mask hidden from any potential spoil-sports, you changed into your night clothes and quickly drifted off for the night.

Five Days Till Halloween

You came down the bunkers’ stairs with Charlie and Rowena, arms full of shopping bags. The three of you had decided to go the mall two towns over to pick out what you would each be wearing to the party. So far, you had all managed to keep each other from seeing what you had bought. You hoped to keep it that way. You had found the perfect dress to go with your mask and you wanted to see everyone’s reactions all at once on Halloween. It was an ankle-length, light blue mermaid-style gown, complete with sequins that looked like fish scales. The dress hugged your curves in all the right ways, though you doubted that would matter much, once Rowena’s spell went into effect. To go with it, you had also bought a pair of white strappy heels. The three of you went off to your rooms to put your things away and agreed to meet in the war room in ten minutes. Rowena needed some help preparing a few ingredients for the distortion spell she would be using on everyone at the party.

You entered the war room to find Rowena setting out some jars and bunches of dried herbs. You stepped over to the map table and looked around at the items spread out before you. “Exactly how complicated is this spell, Ro? There’s, like, fifty different things here.”

“Oh, the spell itself is quite simple. It’s the preparation that’s the bitch. Could’ve done with a bit more warning from the sweet-toothed angel. Thanks for the help, by the way.” Rowena gave you a small smile. For years, even in the midst of being enemies, the two of you had been rather amicable with each other. Now that she was firmly on team Winchester, she had softened towards you even more, in some moments, almost motherly. You didn’t question it, you knew she still wasn’t over the loss of Crowley, and if you could relieve a bit of that pain, you were glad to do it.

As you smiled back, Charlie entered and joined you at the table. “So, ladies, where do we start?”

Rowena looked between the two of you and pursed her lips. “It’s a bit boring, I’m afraid. Mostly just need to get these herbs ground up and ready to be steeped. I’ve worked out the math on how much we’ll need for the spell to work on 30 people for a full evening.” She pulled out a piece of paper from her spell-book and set it in front of you. “Each herb needs to be kept separate until the spell is about to be done. Let’s get to work, girls!”

Three hours later, you put the last of the ground chamomile into its jar, groaning as you twisted the lid tight, your hand aching from all the chopping. Right on cue, you heard a flutter of wings behind you. Gabriel came up beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder. You whipped your head up at him and were met with a beaming smile. “Heya, cupcake. You okay?”

“Yeah. Just my hand cramping up”, you replied with a wince as a flare of pain ran from your wrist to the tips of your fingers.

His hand ran down from your shoulder, along your arm, causing minute goosebumps, and he wrapped your hand in his, letting his Grace heal you. You let out a sigh of relief as the warmth traveled through you. His touch lingered a minute and you could feel the little aches pains gained from a day of shopping leave your body. You flashed him a shy smile. “Thanks, Gabe. What would I do without you?”

“Ah, sugar, without me, you’d be living the same life, just more boring and with more sore muscles.” He let go of your and shot you a wink before turning to check on Charlie.

You looked across the table to see Rowena staring back, an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on her lips. What, you mouthed at her. She simply shook her head and gave you a knowing look. You looked away first, a flush rising to your cheeks. After Gabriel helped Charlie with her aches, and Rowena denied needing healing, he stuck around to help you gather everything up to take back down to the room where Rowena kept all the things she needed for spells.

Just as the four of you came back up the stairs, Dean was setting out everything for dinner; it was build-your-own-burger night. Gabriel gave your shoulder a squeeze and left to go find Castiel. You headed over to the dinner table eagerly, you loved Dean’s burgers and had worked up quite an appetite. The only downside to when Dean did the cooking was that dessert would be store-bought. Luckily, there was an Archangel on hand who was more than happy to snap up something better, if need be. You ate your fill and went to bed soon after, the events of the day having as much of an effect on you as a grueling hunt.

Two Days Till Halloween

You paced back and forth in the library, coffee mug in hand, watching Sam clack away on his laptop. After being cooped up in the bunker the last two days with nothing to do except ponder over Wednesday’s party, you felt restless. Most of the other hunters were still out on cases they had left to investigate days ago. Dean, Cas, and Ketch were in Ohio chasing some rugaru. Mary and and Maggie were tracking down a wraith a few states over. The rest were spread out all over. Only a handful of you had stayed back.

“Anything. Just find something for me to fight. I don’t care what it is. Ghost, werewolf, hell, I don’t care if Gabriel has to zap us down to the border for a damn Chupacabra hunt!” You had stopped your pacing to stand beside Sam, hovering there as he looked through news sites for anything that might even hint at a case.

A minute or so later, he looked up from the screen. “Think I got something. It’s down in Iola, ‘bout an hour and a half away. A couple of bodies were found, drained.”

“Guess we didn’t totally wipe out the Fang Gang after all. Well, let’s take down a few more, shall we?” You left to go gear up, a gleeful spark flashing in your eyes at the prospect of a hunt. You decided to call Charlie, who had made a quick run into town with Jack to see if they wanted to join. Jack was well on his way to becoming a proficient hunter and something like this should be great practice for the kid. Charlie agreed and showed up at the bunker ten minutes later, just as you had finished gathering everything together.

The four of you piled into one of the cars in the garage; you decided to sit in the back with Jack to go over some last minute tips and to test how much he remembered about how to deal with vamps. About thirty minutes into the drive, he pulled out a few of the candy bars he had stocked up on earlier, passing them around. You thanked him and let out a chuckle as he tore into a 3 Musketeer’s bar, noting he still hadn’t given up his love of nougat. The kid had really grown on you in the past year and half, he was like the little brother you never got to have.

 full case fic here 

Eight Hours Later

Gabriel, h-help. Please, we need you…You hoped he would hear your broken plea as you struggled to hold on to consciousness.

The fight had gone horribly wrong. There had been more blood-suckers than you had been prepared for. You and Charlie had gotten separated from Sam and Jack; the three vamps you girls had been flirting with at the bar in town, in an attempt to get them alone, had quickly overpowered you once a few more of their clan had shown up, effectively distracting Sam as he tried to make his way over to the pool tables where you and Charlie were. You remember Jack trying to use his Nephilim powers against the vamps as you were being dragged out into the alley behind the bar. The last thing you heard before being knocked out was Sam yelling.

When you woke, you found yourself in what looked like an abandoned factory. Your head was pounding; you tried to reach up to check for blood, only to find your action stopped by the manacles around your wrists. They had chained you to the wall, Charlie similarly bound a few feet to your left. “Charlie? Charlie, can you hear me? Are you okay? Char, Charlie please answer me.”

The only response you got was a soft groan, but at least you knew she was still alive. There was still hope. Your head throbbed again and your vision blurred. You struggled to think of what to do next. You bit back a moan as you registered a pain in your shoulder. You turned your head to look, and could see now that your sleeve was completely soaked through with blood; you couldn’t remember how that had happened. Unable to think of anything else to get you out of this mess, not knowing how long you had till the vampires returned, you prayed to the one person you could think of in that moment. The one person you wanted to see most right now. Gabriel…please…hurry. I don’t know how long I can hold on…help us…Sam, Jack, I-I don’t know where they are. Your thoughts rambled on as you tried to stay awake. A few seconds later you heard the flutter of wings followed by a panicked voice.

“Y/n, y/n, oh Father, what happened?!” Gabriel crouched by your side, immediately snapping you free from your chains. “Sweetheart, stay with me now. I’m gonna get you outta here in a second, just hold on.”

You raised your head weakly to look at him as he went to check on Charlie. “You came. Oh, thank God, you came. Is she…?”

Gabriel pressed his fingers to Charlies’ forehead and her eyes fluttered open, widening as she took in her surroundings. “She’s fine, y/n. Charlie, can you stand? It looks like y/n’s lost a lot of blood, I’m gonna have to carry her.”

“Yeah, I think so”, Charlie groaned out as she attempted to do so. She was a bit wobbly at first but was able to lean against the wall as Gabriel rushed back over to you.

He knelt over you, brushing back sweat-matted hair from your face. You winced as he gingerly scooped you into his arms, careful not to touch your injured shoulder. “I gotcha sugar. I gotcha. Just hold on a little longer.” Once he had you, he grabbed Charlies’ hand and flew you both back to the bunker.

You had landed in the Dean Cave and Gabriel immediately laid you down on the couch, crouching at your side. Charlie hovered at the end of the couch, behind your head, not wanting to leave you till you were healed. “You can help her, right?”

“Of course, I can. I just needed to get you out of there first, this is gonna take more time to heal than your injuries. I got Sam and Jack back too, by the way; you might want to go let them know you’re safe.” He cupped your face and gently turned it away so he could get a better look at the wound.

The vamps had nearly drained you, it was a miracle you had held on as long as you did. One hand still caressing your cheek, he splayed the other one over your shoulder and you let out a soft gasp as the warm of his Grace spread through you. You closed your eyes as you felt your body healing, a flush rising to your face as you regained the blood levels to do so. Sure, Gabriel had had to heal you before, but it had never felt this intimate. He usually didn’t have to place his hand directly on the wounds, a touch on the head was always sufficient. This was different. His hand lingered on your shoulder a second longer than needed. You were afraid to look at him, afraid of what you might say. Instead, you focused on keeping your pulse steady.

“Sugar, look at me.” Gabriel nudged your face in his direction and you opened your eyes. You couldn’t quite read the look on his face. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me? That was too close a call. Next time, you call for me as soon as shit starts to hit the fan, okay?”

You nodded meekly, attempting to sit up. “Sorry. Everything happened so fast. Is everyone else okay? Brain’s still a bit foggy, you got the others back, right? Is the nest dead?”

“Shh, slow down. Everyone’s fine, I got them back, safe and sound. I’ll take care of the nest in a minute. I needed to heal you first.” Gabriel’s hands dropped down from your face as you swung your legs off the couch and pulled yourself upright. He took your hands in his and held your gaze. “I meant what I said. Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again. We can’t afford to lose you.” With that, he stood up and placed a small kiss to your forehead before walking towards the door. “I’ll let the others know you’re okay before I go take out the rest of those bastards. Get some rest. You’ve got a party to go to in about 48 hours, kiddo.”

After he left the room, you leaned back, shutting your eyes again as you tried to process everything that had just happened. You tried to make sense of Gabriel’s sudden seriousness and the look in his eyes as he had admonished you. You had never seen him so worried before. You groaned, rubbing your eyes as you fought back the wave of exhaustion washing over you. Gabriel was right, you needed rest.

You made your way through the bunker, finding the others in the war room. You hugged them all, glad they were safe, and made your way to your room. You changed into a pair of sweats and an oversized shirt and plopped onto the bed, falling asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Halloween

You spent the past forty hours or so recovering from that disaster of a hunt. Gabriel had healed you up, but the effects of losing that much blood still took a small toll on you. You had slept through most of yesterday, waking for small periods of time to eat and shower. You lounged around in the Dean Cave for a few hours earlier today and then had decided to head back to your room to start getting ready for the party.

After taking a steaming hot shower you dried your hair and styled it before slipping into your dress. You applied a modicum of make-up, not bothering to do the full routine since the distortion spell would probably make it pointless. You still had thirty minutes till the party started so you sat on your bed and let your mind drift off.

Your mind called up the images from the other day, when Gabriel had rescued you. The look of horror on his face when he found you chained to the wall, half-dead. You had never seen him look so scared. He had been so gentle with you, as if one wrong move might finish you off. Then when he was healing you, the look in his eyes as his Grace patched you up inside. Something was different about the way he looked at you then. It was as if he had suddenly stumbled upon some revelation that had been hidden in plain sight.

You pulled your mind from that image not wanting to dissect it further. Instead, you thought back to the feeling of being held in his arms for that briefest of moments as he brought you back to the bunker. You had never felt so safe in your life. Even as you struggled to stay awake, you trusted those arms not to drop you, not to let anything else hurt you. You thought of the feeling of his hand on your shoulder, the other one cradling your cheek. So warm against your freezing skin.

There was no hiding from the truth now. The way you felt in those moments, surrounded by him, you knew you were in love and there was no going back. Sighing, you shook your head to clear it, checking the time. Five minutes. You got up, took a final look in the mirror, and pulled on your mask, taking care not to muss your hair. As you went to grab the doorknob, you felt an odd sensation wash over you. You placed your hand flat against the door to steady yourself as your head swam. Rowena had warned you all that the spell would make you dizzy for a moment, but she hadn’t told you when she was going to be casting it.

You went back to the mirror to check it had worked. You could see yourself clear enough, but you couldn’t make out the color of your eyes. It seemed to be continuously fluctuating from shades of a deep brown up to a light blue. The same thing was happening with your hair, and your lips kept changing in shape and lipstick shade. The only things about your appearance that remained the same was your costume. Well, you could see why Gabriel wanted to use this spell. It would be nearly impossible to tell anyone apart this way.

Once you’d adjusted as best you could, you finally walked out of your room and headed to the library, where Gabriel had said the main part of the party would be held. As you got to the entryway, you froze and gasped at the beauty before you. The room had been completely transformed. Gabriel had tapped into his Trickster magic to make the library at least three times bigger, with a great arching ceiling and giant columns stretching up from a marble floor. There were sparkling chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and candle sconces along the walls. You felt as though you were stepping into a forgotten century.

Against the walls were tables overflowing with candy, desserts and drinks. Gabriel had chosen a simple color pattern of black and white, which just lent more to the austere glamour of it all. You walked into the room slowly, soaking it all in. You were the first to arrive. You had all been told that you were only to head to the party once the spell had set in, and that each of you would feel it at different times. It seemed Gabriel was leaving little to chance. You smiled to yourself at how much effort he had put into tonight.

Within about half an hour, almost everybody had arrived. You looked around at all the beautiful costumes the other hunters had managed to come up with. Most of the men had decided on suits or tuxes that matched well with there masks, and the women wore dresses of varying lengths and styles. One woman, you couldn’t quite tell if it was Mary or Rowena, wore a floor-length black gown with sequins along the bodice to go with the silver and black mask she donned, which had long black feathers coming up from the top of it.

Once everyone had arrived, music started out of nowhere. Not just any regular music like you would hear at a party not being thrown by an over-dramatic Archangel, classical music. You chuckled as you heard Mozart’s Don Giovanni start up. Leave to him to choose music no one would know how to dance to. As soon as the thought entered your mind, a few of the hunters headed to the center of the room, paired up and started dancing a perfect minuet. You gaped at them as they danced lightly across the floor, absolutely confident in every step. No doubt this was also Gabriel’s doing. If only you could figure out which one was him. His tell-tale honey- colored hair was nowhere in sight among the ever-changing shades of brown, black, blonde and red. As it had been in your mirror, the only things that didn’t change were the masks and costumes. Maybe you could figure out which costume would suit him most.

You were already fairly certain that the man in the bronze colored deer mask was Sam and that the mask that was covered in brown and black feathers, with devilish looking horns on either side was being worn by Dean. The suits they were wearing looked quite similar to the ones they wore when pulling the FBI schtick. The man in the sharp black tux with the silver-trimmed, iron-hued mask definitely had to be Ketch, only he could pull that look off.

Finally, your eyes stopped on a man over on the other side of the room, sitting with some of the women, head thrown back in laughter. You recognized the mask from when you were looking through them, deciding on your own. It was a sturdy-looking golden wolf mask, absolutely exquisite in detail. That had to be him. The suit he was wearing was plain, but of great quality and looked perfectly tailored. You felt a shiver run through you as you watched him. He must have said something funny, the girls sitting around him giggled and one of them reached out to grasp his hand. He leaned in closer to her to whisper something, careful of the mask’s nose.

Your stomach sunk at the sight of him being so close to the woman. You turned away quickly and went over to one of the snack tables. You grabbed a flute of champagne and downed it in a gulp before grabbing another and filling a small plate with chocolate-covered strawberries and a few mini milky ways. You walked over to one of the tables by the entrance and sat down heavily. So much for a fun night. To think you had fooled yourself into thinking he might possibly feel the same way you did. Maybe you had just put too much stock into the look on his face the other night. It was nothing more than someone being worried for their friend.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize right away that someone had joined you at the table. Not till you heard him speak.

“I’m sorry. What?” You looked over to see a man in an all black suit, wearing a black Venetian mask covered in a silver pattern. The nose of the mask was almost like a beak. You chanced a look at his eyes and saw how they swirled from a rich brown to sea blue and back again.

“I said, are you okay? It’s hard to tell exactly, with this spell on us, but you look a bit down.”

You thought you recognized something in his speech pattern and the way his eyes kept going back to blue every few seconds was leading you to think that it was Castiel you were sitting with. As he talked, you took in his posture, slightly stiff, and his head was tilted in that bird-like gesture he often used when he was unsure of something.

You sighed and decided not to beat around the bush about how you were feeling. He didn’t know who you were, after all. “Just…I don’t know, jealous I guess.”

“Jealous? Of who?” Sensing the seriousness of the matter, he stood and offered his hand to you.

You thought for a second and took it. He led you over to a quieter spot where no one could overhear you. As you crossed the room, your eyes wandered back to the wolf mask. He had led the girl he was talking to out onto the dance floor. They looked so graceful, gliding across the floor in a perfect waltz. You blinked away the tears trying to fight their way out and tore your eyes from them. Cas called your attention back to him when you’d reached a spot slightly hidden from the rest of the room.

“Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

You let out a sigh, trying to find the words. “It’s Gabriel. Lately, I don’t know, I thought something had changed between us. The way he’s been looking at me. There’s this new gentleness to the way he touches me, I thought…I don’t know what I thought.” You trailed off and looked up at Cas. He looked confused still, the look on his face asking you to go on. “I guess I was just reading too much into it. I was starting to hope he felt the same as I do. I, I love him. But look at him,” you gestured over to the dance floor, “there he is, dancing with someone else. Flirting to his Grace’s content. I was a fool to think he could ever look at me as more than a friend.” You looked back at Cas, “After all, a fish may love a bird , but where will they live?”

“Then I shall have to make you wings.” He reached out a hand to cup your face, his other hand slowly lifting the mask from his face.

“Gabriel!?” you gasped. “I, I thought you were Castiel! Oh, God, I’m gonna be sick.” You tried to turn away but he quickly grabbed your hand, pulling you closer to him.

“Please, take off your mask. Let me see you.”

You let out a shaky breath, looking into his eyes. They were once again golden, now that he had revealed himself to you. Your heart raced as you raised your free hand to take off your mask. “There. Now you know.”

“I hoped it was you.” That was all he said before he slid his hand up from yours, to the back of your neck, leaning in until he was just an inch from your lips. “I love you, too sugar. I have for some time now. I almost lost you the other night. I’ll never let that happen again.”

He closed that last inch of space and pressed his lips to yours. After a few seconds, you broke through the shock, and kissed him back. Your hands wound around his neck, your fingers winding in his hair as you deepened the kiss, parting your lips in invitation. His tongue slid over yours slowly, the taste of chocolate overpowering the champagne that lingered on yours. After a minute, he pulled back.

“Now, I believe I said something about wings?” He snapped his fingers and stepped back. You felt a new weight on your back and turned your head to see a pair of light blue butterfly wings strapped over your now shimmering blue silk dress. The dress flowed down to the floor, sparkling in the candlelight. You looked down at the forgotten mask in your hand to find that it, too, had changed. Gone were the fish; it was now covered in blue lace and a pair of wings flared out from one side. You smiled up at Gabriel, a tear sliding down your cheek. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Gabriel.”

“I never want you to feel like you have to have to be better than you already are. Don’t ever think that you’re not enough.” He wiped the tear from your cheek and kissed you softly. “Now, put you’re mask back on. We’ve got a party to enjoy.”

Monthly Challenge tags: @gabriel-monthly-challenge​ @archangelsanonymous @revwinchester @ttttrickster 

Gabe’s Babes: @liloldlou @calamitychaos @samaxraph99 

Rich’s Bitches: @warlockwriter @archangelgabriellives @green-draws0 @waywardtricks @hankypranky @thewhiterabbit42 @spnimpalaimagines @pervyprincess84 

[guileheroine]

a sky full of song

Korra, princess of the Water Kingdoms, receives a gift from her blacksmith friend on the auspicious winter festival. Korrasami royalty AU 🏰🤍🕯️ / My piece for the @korrasami-valentine-exchange (assignment: Date A) / 4.2k / ao3

“The wedding of the Earth Prince, yes, on the solstice. But it’s an opportune moment for a longer tour, we don’t want to waste the journey. I’m afraid your father can’t afford it, and before you ask, I’ve been conferring with your mother’s office. And frankly, I’m loath to request it of her after…” 

Councillor Panak trailed off as Korra hurried him along with a gesture of the hand. He pushed his eyeglass up his nose and took her eye seriously. “To the point, then—what do you say?”

Korra was tapping her foot under the meeting table. Prince Wu, if she recalled, was equally as intolerable as old Hou-Ting, the spirits bless his poor betrothed. But the prospect of a fortnight around the Earth Kingdom, with its delicious fare and diverse landscapes… that made her much more amenable to the whole idea. 

“Around the solstice, huh? Alright. Why not.”  It was a way off. She had time to arrange her retinue and her schedule as efficiently as possible for maximum enjoyment.

“...That means a tour to the Earth Empire in the spring—or summer, if Her Royal Highness prefers it?”

“Oh, spring,” Korra said in a rush. “Spring. I’m not sure I can do Earthen summers.”  

Panak smiled quite kindly at that, and nodded at his scribe to jot it down. Korra returned his smile. They really were getting along better. It was nice. This meeting was also stretching much farther into the evening than she had understood it would.

“Are we done, then?” Korra stood before he answered, and he scrambled to his feet after her. “Perfect!” 

The Lotus Guard at the doorway didn’t so much as blink as she pushed the heavy door open and went out. He was one of the older men, having been here long before the war, and quite accustomed to her ways.

Once Korra was out in the foyer, she raced. Her quarters, and her next appointment, were in the other wing of the palace, but she had promised to go see her mother first for a few minutes before the Queen went to bed. The winter sun was long gone; all the windows she skipped past were dark, torchlight gleaming on the icy sills. In the halls, on the other hand, the air was bright as frost, festive. She wove around decorators from all over Agna Qel’a hanging new crystalwork along the old bead tapestries and tying berry wreaths around the tall pillars. Down the stairs, in the main hall, the humongous fires that burnt uninterrupted over the winter lit the place generously. As she sped through, headed for the opposite staircase, Korra caught the eye of one of the housekeepers.

“Mina! Mina, are you busy?” She took the girl’s arm, whose eyes goggled, alarmed only at the princess’s sudden appearance but unperturbed by her familiar ways. “Could you go to the kitchen and send for some tea to my apartment? Milk and honey for me—and some of whatever black blend is left, what my blacksmith friend likes. They’ll know. Thank you!” 

When she turned to continue, she was immediately waylaid by one of the ice sculptors. 

“Your Highness! A moment.” 

Just a moment to breathe was exactly what it took for Korra to finally notice the centerpiece of the hall: an elaborate sculpture-fountain of Yue. The moon and ocean spirits hovered above each of her hands, water pouring in gentle arcs out of their gaping mouths. 

Korra’s father was pulling out all the stops for Yue’s Day. She knew, for her part, that it was a private gesture for the Queen, newly returned from a long diplomatic engagement with the northern Air court. Korra stood at attention for the sculptor, whose fingerless gloves allowed him to bend with especial precision.

“Should her hair run—” he said, bending Yue’s locks of ice into free-flowing rivulets, “or stand arrested?” Another curl of his palm froze them again.

“Freeze them. More volume!” Korra said, thinking of her mother, who always grumbled about her limp hair. Then she was on her way to the Queen’s chambers, and then her own. 

“I got your tea. Hi, princess.” 

Korra’s blacksmith friend took a pointed sip when she finally entered her drawing room. Asami’s smirk was hidden behind the glassy cup, and her hair was wet. One of Korra’s towels was slung over the back of her seat—one of the nice ones with the finely embroidered monogram.

“Asami. Sorry I’m late!” Korra slumped onto her divan, sending one of the cushions flying onto the carpet. “It’s good to see you.” She took a moment to catch her breath before picking the cushion up, sitting comfortably and grasping for the tray on the table.

“Don’t worry about it,” Asami said, moving the cup from her mouth, the smirk finally melting off. She pushed the tray into Korra’s reach. “I’m done for the day. A couple of the apprentices are closing up shop for the very first time.” Her brows waggled.

“Impressive! But still, thanks for coming. I know you’re working hard.” 

“We had an appointment, right? And—” Asami grinned and stretched, pulling her warm wools tighter around her “nothing like the thought of a royal shower at the end of the day to get you through it, you know?”

Korra rolled her eyes. The staff knew to let Asami into Korra’s apartments, and even if she could tell they were a little reticent about her using the princess’s bath and vanity, they of course said nothing. The dogs more or less dragged Asami in through the gates every time she came by the palace, and by order of the princess, they were the ones that decided things in her absence. 

Asami scrutinised the tray from the kitchen carefully before picking out a little moon pastry. “How was your meeting?” She took a bite, attentive both to the pastry and Korra. 

“Looks like I’m going on tour to the Earth Kingdom in the spring,” Korra told her. She wasn’t surprised to see Asami’s brow spring up, and her taste-testing pause. 

“What, all over?” 

It was a town in the Earth Kingdom that Asami originally hailed from, before she travelled to the Fire Empire with her father, an innovator in the art of war. After the war’s end and the subsequent reunification of the Water Kingdoms, the newly humbled Sun Emperor had gifted King Tonraq an ancient forge for the royal armoury as a token of good faith and cultural exchange. Korra remembered how it had taken several pulleys, and days, for it to be transported into place in one of the main avenues in the city. They had set up a house around it for a new smith to eventually train locals in the foreign art. Asami—skilled as a metalworker, but bereft of a livelihood and a family after her father’s foundries were shut down—had decided to venture north to start afresh. She vied for the position and won it handily.

Korra glanced at her long. “You could come with me, you know. Take a vacation, if you manage to get this new shop set up in time. I’m sure you’ve trained all your underlings well.”

“We’re getting there,” Asami said vaguely. “But I’ll keep it in mind.”  

Korra was musing, recumbent with her feet up now. “I must warn you, t’s for the wedding of the Queen’s nephew. They’re a lot stuffier in the Earth kingdom. All the pomp and pageantry,” she clarified. “I’m not looking forward to that part.”

“I’ll bet.” Asami gave her a sympathetic smile.

Sitting pretty in formal assemblies, she did not enjoy. Peace was harder than war, in a lot of ways. At least it was for Korra, who had been right at home as a strategist commanding the bending battalions in the few Fire Empire skirmishes that had reached the north. Or as a captain fending off the marauding warlords and shaman-kings in the southern fiefs who took advantage of the chaos to arouse the spirits and stage deadly rebellions. Her leadership, covert though it was, had played no small part in subduing the northern theater and paving the way for all the ancient Water tribes to be reunified under Agna Qel’a and her father’s leadership. The lasting peace of the years since had proven they were stronger together. Just as it had proven that the Princess’s patience for peacetime bureaucracy needed a good deal of practice. 

“You should come. We’ll do you up as my retainer so you get a salary. I might need you to keep me straight.” 

Asami was good at that, blowing off steam after long, boring days. The mellowness of the warmth, nothing like that of her forge, evened Korra’s mood like little else. 

“Oh, so you want me to drop everything and trail you around as a handmaiden?” 

Korra scoffed, embarrassed. “Well, don’t put it like that.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Asami sat up. “An Earth royal wedding, huh? Think they’ll let me in?” She picked at the cushion in her lap.

“They will if I have anything to say about it.” Korra yawned. “It’ll be my turn soon enough.” 

“How’s your mother?” Asami said, following her train of thought seamlessly—it was always the queen that pestered Korra about finding a match, good-natured but more earnest than she ever realised she was appearing.  

“Sleeping. She had a long journey back from the Northern Air Temple. Dad’s happy, though. Just casually planning her a ball this weekend for Yue’s Day.” 

“Hey, is that what that business down in the hall is?” Some forgotten curiosity clearly jolted Asami. “There were all these new kayaks moored around the drawbridges when I came through, too.” 

Korra nodded, while tentative recognition continued to filter into Asami’s expression. It was easy to forget Asami had been here nary a year. But she had, and it had been a busy year too, with little time for exploration, per her own frequent complaints. “You know about it, right?” When Asami shrugged evasively, Korra explained, “It falls on the day of the first full moon after the winter solstice. Yue was a princess of legend—our ancestor, apparently—who became the moon spirit.”

Asami sat forward. She loved tales like this, and listened to them like she was being entrusted a secret.

“We’ve celebrated it as long as anyone remembers, but the festival is supposed to usher good fortune and fertility. I think that’s why it became a couples thing.” Korra didn’t think much of that. “But, well, the idea is to spend the evening under the full moon, which is why all the kayaks are out. Really, everyone just needs an excuse to liven up the winter!” 

“That I understand,” Asami said wryly, ill accustomed to the polar night. “Yeah, I went to the market in town to pick up some new gloves and they had stalls and stalls of new fare. Jewelry, wind chimes, furs.” 

Korra sat up, conspiratorial. “I bet at least one of your new proteges will sneak you a little gift. I get messages every year. Mostly upstarts, but some cute ones, too.” 

When Asami had first been appointed as the blacksmith, Korra was uncertain what a girl her age was doing heading up an official royal undertaking like that, with all its bells and whistles. When she arrived at a welcome dinner with her family, Korra found her altogether too precious, and definitely not deserving of the private summons and the White Lotus escort. Especially not when the whole rigmarole was keeping Korra from her planned retreat to the kennels for the evening, where, in the end, the strapping night guards were giggling and blushing about the new blacksmith.

At her father’s behest, Korra had put on her most functional anorak and taken Asami some cakes, conserves and newly dried jerky from the palace a couple weeks after their meeting. He insisted it was a part of the Princess’s duty to look after someone in their employ so new to the land—a girl her own age no less. Down in the city, the townsfolk were pleased to see Korra as she made her way to the workshop, but no one made a fuss (unless they were young and excitable already), unlike what she had heard of the other Kingdoms, larger and loftier as they were. She wondered if Asami the Blacksmith liked that about here, or found it lacked decorum, as Korra knew some folk abroad definitely did. 

Asami had a study above the forge, from which she dealt with its administration, and living quarters on the next storey. These were yet lonely and sparse, but not completely devoid of homely touches, as though she would have spruced them up if she only had the opportunity. Korra noticed well-kept shrubs and a vivid landscape on the wall; then Asami came and curtseyed deep and pulled off her apron. 

She was willowy and beautiful under the gear and the soot (over it, too, to be honest), which endeared and repelled Korra in fairly equal measure, ultimately leaving her as indifferent as ever.

“My parents and Lord Arnook want to know how you’re getting on.” Lord Arnook was the esteemed keeper of the royal armoury, and he liked Asami just as much as everyone else did.

A flicker of sadness—shame?—crossed her face, then she put her hand on the table. “Won’t you sit? Your Highness. Let me bring you something hot first.”

Asami lit the fire in the blink of an eye and stoked it without watching, like it was the back of her hand. She had some bread in the pantry, over which she spread the aqpik jam Korra had delivered her. Korra watched her as she boiled the water. Her skirt was heavy, probably to insulate from the heat and cold alike, but it fell flatteringly from her height; and her long hair, which had flown in waves in a foreign style at dinner, was pinned into a practical bun. She made a sharp, fragrant tea she had brought from the continent. Her eyes lit up unexpectedly when Korra bent her own cup to cool it.

“Ah, I love seeing that,” she cooed. “I suppose I’m still not used to it. The other elements don’t bend like that. And I hear you have great skill.”      

Korra’s own smile came too quick for her to suppress. “Who told you that, the King?” Then she regarded her keenly. So, how are you... Do you need anything? Do the men from the quarry treat you okay?” 

“Oh, everyone here is… They’re very warm. Makes up for the chill,” Asami laughed.

It was a line so hackneyed that gritting through it was itself a country-wide inside joke. But this calm and rosy girl injected fresh, charmless charm into it. Maybe everything was charming if someone this winsome did it. After that, Korra softened considerably.

“They are,” she replied, with no small amount of pride. A sudden shame crept up her chest, that she probably couldn’t count herself among those nice people that had made Asami feel welcome. 

Then Asami swallowed and the colour of her voice changed. “I miss my home, though. I know this job is more kindness than I deserve, after what we did but… It is a little lonely here.” She confirmed what Korra had already deduced, mostly because she knew the feeling all too well. “I guess I just don’t have a lot of time to go and make friends after work.”

Korra didn’t doubt that; it was hard, physical work. The one or two times she’d witnessed it, the clang rang in her ears for hours afterwards. She wouldn’t have pegged a girl like this for it. Asami reminded her more of some of the young ladies she knew from her old classes, when all the children around the court would be dumped into the royal healing hut together for some hands-on learning.

“Have you been beyond the city yet? The land out there… that’s our land. This is just a fortress.” 

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to,” Asami said, wistful. “Pretty sure I can’t go on foot though.”

“Well, if… if you don’t know anyone else, I could take you. I have the best dogs in the Four Kingdoms.”

Before the month was up, Korra had sent a commission to the Queen’s personal seamstress for some sealskin gloves and winter-grade furs. She gifted them to Asami on her birthday. “You need these anyway, I think, but you’ll definitely need them where we’re going.” And that night, Korra took her to see the aurora. 

There was a hamlet a few miles north of Agna Qel’a where Korra knew the elderly chief and had asked her for passage to an outcrop in their territory, after divining the well kept secret that it was one of the prime spots for watching the sky dance. Asami, enchanted, never took her eyes off it—so unflinching that Korra almost began to feel envious of the lights.   

It became a routine. Korra knew every inch of her realm. If a diplomatic mission sent her to one tribe or settlement, she would be sure to take a day or two exploring the local country before she returned to the capitol. It had been a great boon when the southern tribes first came under their stewardship. The Princess spent time in every village, took interest in their land and in their lore; met challenges of the wilds and the weather with hunger, and any unknowns thereof with abiding curiosity. She knew what to wear, which sled or boat to take. When to find the rarest whale pods before they went south; where the starriest cliffs were, and the sunniest lakes.

All of which impressed Asami a great deal, and that made Korra happier than most things. And no worse were the days they spent in her apartments going over the sordid palace gossip, or in her apartments tracing old scars by lamplight, healing them word by gentle word. 

On Yue’s Day, Korra stopped by to see various palace aides located around the city with customary gifts. In a castle town, there were plenty with such connections, and she relished the ruddy smiles, quick drinks, and flustered curtsies she received in turn. She saved Asami for last, because Asami had asked for some time together. Korra entered the smithy by the front, her senses clogging with immediate heat. Two of the apprentices were there: one of them gaped while the other barely blinked. 

“Asami? I come bearing punch… and those moon pastries you like!”

She commenced the usual ritual of announcing her presence over the steam and noise while peeling off all but a couple of her layers, when Asami emerged out of the back. She was squeezing her hands together in excitement.

“No, no, no, don’t,” she urged, a gleam in her eyes like the blades that hung behind her, “we’re going somewhere.” 

A few minutes later, they were walking along the main canal under the sparkling lights, milling through the townspeople. A fresh drift crunched beneath their boots. In a few more, they were alighting one of the kayaks in the dock.

Asami faced her and paddled like a natural; and naturally, Korra gaped. 

“Do not tell me you haven’t done this before!”

Asami’s tongue stuck out in concentration as she suppressed a giggle, but her limbs moved with finesse. “Just the once. So far. Don’t be distracting me.” 

“I won’t let us capsize,” Korra assured her. 

Eventually, Asami settled into her rhythm, and the canal carried them out of the city, past all the lights. The banks of glass-cut brick gave way to a more jagged channel littered with pack ice at its mouth, floating blue and still. Korra gripped the edge of the kayak, not for any physical comfort. A crackling anticipation, and an unnameable fondness both, were welling and welling in her with every mundane word they shared.

When they disembarked on the lake’s other edge, the ice was landfast: a ghostly field glowing under the full moon. 

Korra knew this place, but she had scarcely been here in the middle of winter, when the ice field extended endlessly, as vast as the sky. As they tramped across the snow, she began to wonder what Asami’s surprise was. There wasn’t much for a mile in any direction.

“We should sit for this,” Asami said, pointedly ignoring Korra’s prying questions.

The wind had kicked the snow up into berms along the field. Korra froze one so it was sturdy enough to perch on. Then Asami took her pack, and pulled out some plain tubes of parchment; nothing Korra would have looked at twice, although she didn’t know what they were.

“What’s in there?” She said.

“Some of my metals, some of my salts,” Asami replied enigmatically, almost sing-song. “Wait here.”

She heaved herself off the berm, ran several yards towards the horizon and stooped. She planted the tubes, and did something else Korra couldn’t see, though she thought she recognised the bright filigree on the cover of the pocket matchbook Asami carried everywhere.

When Asami had trundled back and sat again, Korra crossed her arms and laughed, bemused, her humour ebbing. “Are you going to tell me what’s going—”  

BOOM!

Korra gasped, startled out of her words. She would have fallen from the perch if Asami didn’t catch her around the waist, giggling blithely all the while— 

A wheel of light bloomed in the sky like a flower, dazzling and surreal. All the colours of the aurora—except they were peals of crystal fire, pouring out like diamonds before disappearing into the smoky air. Another wheeled up after it with a strange whirr, before it exploded into a glittering shower, and more in succession.

They reminded Korra of the spirit hales in the heart of the wilds, and even deeper in a buried memory, of the Fire explosives some of the raiders had once set off on the Southern Sea. Except these were brighter—and safer, because Asami had made them.  

Korra looked to her when they had died, beaming under the mitten that covered her mouth in shock. “Are there more?”

To her eternal delight, there were more. New flowers sprouting on the celestial vault, they would be burned in her memory forever.

“They’re no aurora,” Asami said, while Korra scoffed and slung her arms around her, huddling for the cold and the buzz. Under her embrace, and half her weight, Asami looked chuffed. “But I thought they might liven up your night.”

Korra cupped her earmuff, then her cheek. “Thank you. This is the best day I’ve had all winter.” 

Asami’s pyrotechnical skills didn’t even surprise her, but that could hardly diminish the sheer majesty, and novelty, of the display. Even minutes later, Korra could hardly believe what she had seen.

“Well, I couldn’t let you be the only show-off around here.” Asami smiled. Then the smile dropped from her eyes and she hesitated, like she couldn’t let that sit for an explanation. “Korra. I wanted to do something special. You’ve made me feel at home here in a way I never imagined. And I’m just a smith, from the Fire Empire!” 

Korra felt her eyes water and blinked the tears back quickly, because they would ice and sting in the bitter air. She bit the smile off her lips. “You’re not just anything. You’re a terrific handmaiden.”

She snorted as Asami shoved her off and reached for her pack again.

 “One more thing. I thought it might be too smokey for this after all those incendiaries, but it’s worth a shot anyway.”

This time Korra recognised the device she emerged with. It was made of two cylinders, and the mechanism that held them together spun smoothly like the spokes of a wheel. She handed it to Korra, who held the spyglass up.

A field of stars materialised. Korra held her breath. 

The stars were luminous at the poles, but she had never seen them like this, and for the first time they felt close enough to touch, invoking a bracing, irrepressible wonder. In silence, she gazed.

“The moon spirit leads all the stars out tonight, right?”

Asami had done her research. Korra turned back to her. “So they say.” She hooked her arm through Asami’s, and held her hand. With the spyglass still to her eye, she let her head fall against Asami’s bundled shoulder.

“Tired, princess?”

Korra rustled her breath, long-suffering. “Why do you call me that!” 

The way Asami said it—like it was something of her own decree, and not that of ten thousand years of tradition and some profoundly sacred doctrines. There was a sweet and strange tug in Korra’s belly whenever it happened, and this time, tonight, it lingered longer than ever.

“‘Cause you’re a piece of work,” Asami said, trying to interlace their thick, mittened fingers, which required some effort.

Tentatively, Korra turned the spyglass to the moon herself. She winced— it glared straight back, too bright. Maybe another night, when it wasn’t Yue’s Day. 

Yue’s Day. She now held the thought delicately in her chest, as if she wanted to guard it from the wind and chill. If Asami loved her—were to love her—there were several reasons not to say it. They both knew them, whether they had turned them over consciously or not. 

But the risk of showing was low. And the reward, as her own euphoric mood tonight proved, was magnificent.

[rynne311]

A Guardian Angel

Request: you know what i need? a story that takes place after under the red hood in which jason is lonely and all that after what happened with bruce and he rescues a young 14 year old homeless girl from an older creep. they meet again a couple times and when he finds out she's homeless and lonely just like him,he decides to let her live with him. i imagine their relationship somewhat similiar to hopper and eleven's in s2 of stranger things. (This isn’t my request but I liked it and thought u do good )

BONUS: the girl has sexual identity issues and jason helps her get through it.

Requested by: Anon

Word Count: 1401

Requests are Open HERE.

A/N: Full disclosure, I didn’t watch s2 of Stranger Things so as far as that goes, I just kinda winged it.  I made it through the first season, but it just never clicked for me so when the second season came around I just had no desire to watch it.

I also could not figure out a good way to come at the bonus part of the request, so I didn’t do that part, sorry!

When you’re on your own, every creep seems to take that as an invitation, no matter how tough you tried to make yourself.  Most nights, you’d manage to find a safe enough spot to get some sleep, but tonight was not one of those nights.

This middle aged creep who reeked of cheap booze had been following you around since he first spotted you this morning.  No matter what you did, you couldn't shake him.  Sure this seemed to happen every once in a while, but it never made it any less nerve-wracking.  You just hoped Red Hood would show up to help you again.  Most nights like tonight he seemed to be your guardian angel, and you prayed he was watching over you tonight.

Night was beginning to fall and you knew whatever safety you had was quickly disappearing.  You needed to find someplace the drunkard would at least struggle to get to you.  You were hungry, but that was secondary to physical safety.  Peering down an alleyway to see if it would be a suitable place to hide for at least a few hours, you were yanked backwards with your mouth covered.  You couldn’t scream, but you could struggle.

You tried with all your might to fight back, but you hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning and that was hindering you.  You knew no matter what this creep was going to overpower you, but you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

You could smell the cheap booze as he breathed down your neck.  You just wanted to get out of his hold.  You thought you might be getting your break when the creep threw you down onto the ground.  Hearing the click of a gun being cocked, you thought your fate was sealed and just waited for the end to come.  You were speechless to find that Red Hood had swooped in to save you yet again.  You were so dazed from the experience you didn’t register him asking you to come with him for a safe place for the night until he repeated himself.

“Hot meal and a bed.  That’s all you need to say yes to,” Red Hood coaxed.

You wanted to trust him; he had just saved your life, again.  You were used to people only doing something good for you in order to get something from you in return.  So far he hadn’t wanted anything from you any other time he’d come to your aid.

Hesitantly, you asked, “Could I take a shower too?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “You can take a shower too.  I think we’ll both sleep better knowing you’re safe. C’mon, I’ll show you the way.”

Silently you followed him back to his apartment.  Before you could get in the shower, he grabbed some extra clothes for you use, explaining that he would wash yours overnight.  You couldn’t remember the last time you were able to take a warm shower, but you relished every minute of it.  Stepping out of the shower, you could smell the hot meal you were promised.  Quickly, you changed into your borrowed clothes and made your way to the kitchen.  You were stunned to see Red Hood standing there in the kitchen in regular clothes and without a mask.  You didn’t know he was that handsome.  You had thought that part of the reason he wore the helmet was because of some sort of disfigurement, not to avoid it.

“I don’t know what you like. Figured I couldn’t go wrong with grilled cheese and tomato soup,” he explained, placing the plates in front of you.

You didn’t care that you could see steam coming off the food, you were so hungry it didn’t matter if you burnt your mouth or not.

“Whoa, whoa slow down a bit,” he said. “I can make you more, it’s not going anywhere.”

You felt the blood rush to your face.  You were so used to fending for yourself, that your manners were lacking.  Normally, if you didn’t scarf down your food, someone else would.

Sensing your embarrassment, he tried to relate with you. “I’ve been on the streets too.  I was a kid when Batman took me in, and trust me, for a long time I scarfed down any piece of food placed in front of me.”

He was relieved to see you visibly relax and even happier to see a small smile make its way onto your face.  He wanted to be someone you could trust and not have to worry about hurting you.  He knew he was going to have to show you that he trusted you in order to gain your full trust.  Going out on a limb, he said, “My real name’s Jason, by the way.”

Taking a moment to finish your bite of food, you finally spoke up, “I like that. I’m Y/N.”

“Well Y/N, it’s nice to finally officially meet you,” he said.  Nobody has ever been happy to meet or see you.   You thought that was just some tale some of the other street kids would tell about regular people.

You continued to watch Jason as you finished your food.  He could tell you were wary about being here; it was a very vulnerable position you were in. Looking to calm your nerves a bit, he explained, “I brought you here because you seem like a nice kid and almost every night I’m fending off some creep trying to get at you while you sleep in an alley.  Nights like tonight, they just don’t wait for you to be asleep first.

“If you’re here, then that’s one less worry I have when I go out there.  You remind me of me, Y/N, and I want to know that you’re safe.  Look, you can leave here whenever you want, but there will always be a bed and a hot meal waiting for you whenever you want it.”

You weren’t sure when you had started crying, but you felt the tears streaming down your face.  You didn’t know it was every night that some creep decided you were going to be whatever he wanted for the night, you thought that it was only once in a while that it would happen.  The love in what Jason had told you and offered to you with no apparent ulterior motive made you realize maybe you didn’t have to be alone anymore.

“What do I need to do if I want to stay here permanently?” you asked, voice laced with hesitation.

“Just say the word,” he responded, his own smile growing. “But I do think you may need to get some rest, here let me show you where you can sleep.  My bedroom is across the hall if you decide you need anything.”

You couldn’t remember the last time you fell asleep so fast, or slept so well.  You woke up to the smell of another hot meal.  When you opened the door to the room you’d been lent for the night, you found your clothes clean and neatly folded right outside the door.  Nobody had ever gone so far out of their way to respect your personal space before.

Breakfast was waiting on the table when you finally emerged.  You sat and ate silently, though this time you actually took your time with your food.  You knew you wanted to stay, it just felt right here, and you hoped that Jason meant it when he said all you needed to do was ask if you wanted to make this your permanent home.

“So all I really have to do to stay here is just tell you that I want to?” You asked.  “No one ever does something nice without wanting something in return.”

“That’s exactly right,” he confirmed. “I told you, Y/N, you remind me of me.  I’m just giving you what I wanted and needed when I was in your spot.  Come to think of it, the one thing you can do is come to the store with me and pick out some stuff to help make you feel more at home here.”

Maybe someday you’ll be able to do the same thing Jason’s doing for you and help some other street kid.  For now, you were happy to have a home and be away from those creeps who had always tried to prey on you.  It seemed Red Hood really was your guardian angel.