#i am putting children in peril

[lychniis]

okay, so if i were to share a basic intro to my original universe ( and characters ), would you like to be tagged in it?

because um...i'm done XD. well at least i'm, done with an intro...still so much to do...

[rose-pearls]

The Perils of Love - Part 2

Did I already had an idea for the second part of The Perils of Love? Definitely and here it is! Thank you for all the comments and love I didn't think so many people would like it! I hope you like this chapter! Requests are also open!

Relations: Clarisse La Rue x reader (endgame), Luke Castellan x reader, platonic!Silena x reader, platonic!Percy Jackson x reader

Main taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)

The Perils of Love Taglist: @chadmeeksmartinswifey, @liv444me, @justanotherkpopstanlol, @taygrls, @10ava01, @2hiigh2cry, @lucycarlisleswife, @thekittyxo-blog, @ahh-chickens, @exactlycoralfox, @quackitysdrugdealer, @lafemmii, @flower-lise, @jaegerlisa1, @valenftcrush, @bdscsjhb, @niktwazny303, @llovvessssssssssssss, @etheriaaly, @spidergyall, @acourtofdeppressionandanxiety

It was quiet, far too quiet after having lived in the Hermes cabin for so long. A statue of Zeus was in the middle of the room, and you couldn’t help but think how vain you father must be to put a statue of himself in here. 

The afternoon had been chaotic, with Mister D and Chiron taking you away from the group to talk, Percy the only one allowed with you as you were now both children of the big three. After that they had sent you to your new cabin, you still had to retrieve your clothes and stuff from the Hermes cabin, but you just needed a moment. 

The quiet was suddenly broken by a loud whistle.

“Damn, Zeus really made an effort here,” you hear Clarisse say as she looks around, curious eyes looking around the room. She was right, it was much bigger than the other cabin’s you had seen with a living room when you entered and a second floor where multiple beds could be placed. It looked like a bank, mixed with lightening bolds and clouds drawn on the ceiling.

“He sure did, wonder why,” you can’t help but say, wondering for the hundredth time in the past hour why the God of Thunder had suddenly decided you were worth something.

There was a silence that accompanied your words before you felt the couch dip and the smell of woods filled your senses. 

“How are you doing?”, Clarisse looks unsure when you turn to her, but the only thing you can do is sigh in response.

“I don’t know, my father suddenly decides that I’m worth something and claims me in front of everyone. Now I am going to be living in this enormous cabin alone and everyone will probably avoid me because a child of the big three is like the most dangerous thing possible,” you take a deep breath after spilling everything that you had been thinking. Clarisse seems surprised at your outburst, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. 

“Sorry, I guess it just needed to get out and you are the first person I talked to since then. Percy had to stay with Chiron,” Clarisse makes a noise of disagreement as you turn to look at your hands.

“I don’t mind, really. I mean your life did a complete turnaround in the last hour I think it’s normal for you to be having a hard time,” a smile appears on your lips without you even noticing, and as you look at her, she has a soft smile on her lips, one that you haven’t seen before. 

“I can’t tell you that it will all be alright but try to see the good side of it all, now you have a cabin for yourself without idiots running around all the time,” her words make you snort as you can’t help but agree, as much as you loved the comradery in the Hermes cabin it was always chaotic. 

“And if anyone has a problem with you, you tell me and I’ll make sure they don’t say anything anymore,” the sweet look she had just a second ago has morphed into determination and you can’t stop yourself from smiling.

“Don’t worry Clarisse I’ll be fine, but thank you,” you tell her, and she nods slowly, she looks unsure for a moment and the both of you look at each other before she finally speaks.

“I’m here for you, if you ever need something I will always be there,” she says it with such determination and emotions that you can only believe her, feeling lost at the feeling in your chest at her words.

“Thank you. I’m also always there for you if you need me,” you tell her with a soft smile and she seems surprised for a moment before nodding, you don’t know if you are tired or if there is really a blush on her cheeks. 

“I should go pick up my stuff at the Hermes cabin otherwise I will never get settled in before the bonfire tonight,” Clarisse has a bright smile at the words before getting up with you.

“So, I’ll be seeing you at the bonfire tonight?”, she seems confident as she speaks, but you can see some doubt lingering in her eyes.

“Of course, I’ll see you there!”, you tell her as she looks at you for a moment, seemingly trying to read your expression. Before you can ask her if everything is alright you feel a soft kiss on your cheek and Clarisse running off before you can say anything.

Your mouth is wide open, and your cheeks feel like they are burning as you touch the spot where she kissed you, the feeling of her lips still lingering there. 

--

“Coming to pick up your stuff?”, you hear as you are packing up one of your shirts in the bag, Luke is leaning against one of the double beds as you look behind you.

“I am, otherwise, I will have to come back every time for my stuff. Might not be se practical,” you tell him awkwardly, you didn’t know how to act around him anymore, not after the conversation you had overheard yesterday.

“I guess congratulations are in order,” he says after a few seconds of silence, and you turn around to look at him properly.

“Thank you, never thought this day would come but it has,” the both of you look at each other for a moment before Luke sighs.

“You know that you are always welcome here, right? Don’t ever hesitate to come by, I know the younger kids will miss you,” he says, and you can’t help but smile at his words, you would also miss them and their youthful innocence. 

“I’ll miss you too,” the words make you turn to look back at him from the bunks you were looking at and you can see him now being closer to you then before.

“Really?”, you can’t help but ask, feeling unsure after what he had said to Chris but as you look into the familiar brown eyes you can’t seem to find any trace of lying.

“Of course, you were here for three years I don’t know how it will be now that you aren’t here anymore,” you want to tell him that it will probably better for him without you clinging to him as Chris has said it, but you can’t find the strength to say it.

Luke gets closer to you and suddenly you find yourself having to look slightly upwards to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he whispers, and you shake your head slowly, trying to find an answer while getting lost in his eyes.

“I won’t,” you tell him, sure of yourself and Luke seems relieved at your words before he gets even closer to you.

And for a moment the two of you look at each other, wondering what was about to happen and if you should really cross that line until the door of the cabin slams open making the both of you jump away in surprise. Silena is at the entrance of the door, looking at the both of you with angry eyes and you suddenly wonder what you had done to have the Aphrodite girl mad at you.

“I’m here to help you get your stuff to your cabin,” she says, and you would’ve found the gesture sweet if she hadn’t still been glaring at the two of you.

“Thank you, I just finished packing everything,” you say after awkwardly clearing your throat.

“I guess I’ll see you around Luke,” the boy nods in agreement, looking a bit scared to answer as the Aphrodite girl is still glaring at him.

The walk to your cabin is silent, Silena not speaking a word to you, and you know better than to try and say something when she has ignored your previous attempts at a conversation.

“You need to make a choice,” she suddenly says as you drop your bags near your bed, making you look at her with wide eyes.

“What do you mean?”, you feel confused at her statement, but she just lets out a loud sigh, looking annoyed.

“Between Luke and Clarisse, you can’t play with their emotions forever,” the words are like a slap in the face as you look at the girl with wide eyes.

“Wait-what?! I am not doing anything like that!”, you can’t help but say, your voice getting louder as you feel insulted by what she insinuated, as if you had been playing on purpose with their emotions.

“I don’t even know why you would even say that when there is nothing happening between me and Luke or me and Clarisse,” you say before she can even open her mouth and she scoffs loudly.

“You know for a daughter of Zeus you really are clueless,” she says, and you feel even more frustrated.

“What in the gods name do you mean?”, you can feel the anger coming up, as you try to remember what could possibly have led to this conversation.

“It is not my place to tell you, but you really should open up your eyes before you hurt all three of you,” she says with a cold look and you feel once again lost, you thought that the two of you had gotten closer last night but now looking at her you couldn’t remember the sweet girl from that night.

“Acting like a victim or like you don’t know what I’m talking about won’t get you anywhere,” the words feel like a slap in the face, and you try to keep yourself calm but the sound of thunder makes the two of you look up. The ceiling that had previously been a soft gray was now getting darker with thunder rumbling. 

“Get out,” you tell her before turning around, not wanting to see the girl any longer after what she had just told you. 

And for a moment you thought that she had left before her voice broke your thoughts once again, only this time softer.

“I’m sorry, for what I said it wasn’t fair,” the words are spoken softly, carefully like she wants to make sure you don’t get angry.

“It’s okay, guess you needed to say what you really thought, good to know what people think of me,” you can’t help but mutter as you put the last of your stuff away, not hearing the sigh Silena lets out.

“I didn’t think that, not really, I guess that I am protective of Clarisse and sometimes I attack people who hurt her like some kind of-”, she seems to try and find the correct word, so you turn around with raised eyebrows.

“A chihuahua?”, she snorts at the words before nodding slowly, letting you think of her previous words.

“Why do you think I hurt Clarisse? I saw her just two hours ago and everything was fine,” you tell her, and she sighs quietly before sitting down on your bed with a grimace.

“She’s going to kill me,” she whispers under her breath while you can’t help but look at her feeling confused.

“Clarisse likes you; she has for the past two years and probably before that,” the words are like a bullet, hitting you right through your chest. You don’t know what to say as you open and close your mouth multiple times. Silena has an understanding smile on her lips as she pats the spot next to her on the bed, making you sink into it while your thoughts are running wild.

“I didn’t- I really didn’t know,” you tell her, and she nods quietly, like she already knew what you were going to say.

“I know, you don’t seem to realize that people are interested in you,” she says it like a fact, and you can’t help but nod in agreement.

“I don’t know what to do,” you say after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper but Silena seems to have heard you as she sighs.

“I think that you need to wrap your head around all of this and that you need to think about who you really have feelings for. But if you don’t go for Clarisse, please be kind to her, she looks tough, but she has a soft spot,” the words are carefully said but you can’t help but feel offended as she seems to think you would hurt the Ares girl.

“Of course, I would never hurt her,” you say quickly and Silena smiles knowingly, as if she knows something that you don’t know yet.

“Good, I’ll let you think in peace,” she says before getting up and squeezing your shoulder in reassurance.

The silence of the cabin is once again taking over the place but this time you welcome it as your head is filled with questions. Silena seemed to think that both Luke and Clarise were interested in you and that you had to make a choice. Your groan loudly as you put your head into a cushion, wondering how you were going to make a decision.

You had always liked Luke, or at least had a crush on him but as you think back of the last few days the only thing you can think about is Clarisse. The way she had quickly taken you under her wing, kissed you on the cheek and came to see you to make sure you were alright. 

Your thoughts are quickly broken by a loud bang of the door, making you jump in surprise.

“Sorry for the door but I am officially moving in!”, you hear Percy yell and as you look over the silver balcony you come face to face with a smiling Percy, a pillow under his arm and a bag with his stuff in his hand.

“You do know that we have pillows here?”, you say teasingly, unable not to smile as the boy shrugs his shoulders and starts climbing up the stairs. The sight of him makes you calm down as you finally feel at ease for a moment.

“I hope it isn’t an issue that I’m here, it just gets lonely there,” he says, looking a bit awkward for a moment but you just take his bag out of his hand to bring it to the bed on the other side of the room.

“Of course not! I’m glad that you are here, it was getting a bit to calm in here,” you say after a moment and Percy seems relieved at your words.

“So, what’s the gossip?”, Percy asks after laying down like a starfish on the bed making you snort.

“What do you want to know?”, the boy looks unsure for a moment before a mischievous grin appears.

“Everything, but perhaps what is happening between you and Clarisse at the moment,” you glare at the boy, who tries to look innocent, but you can see the mischief in his eyes.

“Fine, I need your opinion on this. But first we are making hot chocolate and face masks,” Percy seems unsure at the second option, but you give him a pointed look before picking up the stuff you would need.

And that is how you find yourself half an hour later in the living room with hot chocolate and the both of you with a face mask telling him everything that had happened.

--

The bonfire was already in full swing as you arrived with Percy, the both of you had quickly gotten ready when you had realized how late it was.

“Now go get her!”, Percy says with a big smile as you look scared for a moment, and you turn around to give him a soft smile.

“Thank you for the advice,” you say but the boy simply shrugs his shoulders, a smile on his lips.

“Always here if you need me, that is what family is for after all,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world and you can’t help but feel a bit emotional at the words.

“I’ll see you later in our cabin?”, Percy quickly nods with a large grin before giving you a thumbs up and moving towards Annabeth and Grover who were waiting for him.

You turn to look back at the rest of the bonfire, but you can’t seem to find the Ares girl, the only girl you find at that moment is Silena, who looks pained. You feel confused as to why before you turn to look closer and see Clarisse and a girl talking, or rather flirting with each other. It feels like someone has thrown a bucket of water over you as you look at the two of them, they looked perfect for each other, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of jealousy as you saw Clarisse touching the other girls leg.

“Please talk to her,” Silena says, and you turn around to suddenly find her next to you. You try to say something, but you aren’t able to as you look at both girls.

“What’s the point? She seems happy, I don’t want to disturb her,” you can’t help but say, feeling defeated.

“Look she is just acting like an idiot to get your attention, she was mad when she saw Luke and you nearly kissing so she is probably trying to see if you will react to her flirting with someone else,” Silena seems to be trying to explain everything as quickly as possible, as if she is scared that you would run out of time or that you would just leave.

“Fine, I’ll talk to her, after all it seems to be my fault she is talking to that girl. But if she tells me to leave, I am leaving,” you say, and Silena quickly nods in agreement. You take a moment to collect all the possible courage you will need before walking towards the two girls.

“Clarisse, hi, could I talk to you?”, you could’ve just started a conversation and then ask the question, but you just needed to talk to her.

“Why?”, the Ares girl suddenly asks, and you feel lost, she doesn’t seem that happy to see you and you try not to feel hurt as she looks at you like you were just some dirt on the side of the road.

“Because I need to talk to you about something, private,” you say as you quickly look at the other girl before turning back towards Clarisse.

“Why don’t you go talk with Castellan, I’m sure he’ll be interested,” she says with a mean smile, and you feel like the air has left your lungs as she turns back to the girl she was talking to.

“Clarisse, please,” you say softly and for a moment you wonder if she has heard you before you see her look up and look at something behind you. You get ready to look at what she could possibly be looking at, but she gets up before you can.

“Fine, you have five minutes,” she says, and you let out a sigh of relief as you follow her away from the bonfire and into the woods.

Your relief is quickly forgotten as you start to wonder how you are going to tell her everything. She seems impatient as she has her arms crossed in front of her and her eyebrows raised at you, making you laugh nervously.

“You know in some cultures, crossing your arms means that you are closing yourself of or protecting yourself,” you can’t help but say, and you want to slap yourself as you realize what you just said.

“So, you took me away to tell me some fun facts? Because then I am leaving,” she says and you see that she is ready to go but you take her arm and she stops immediately, looking at your hand on her arm.

“Sorry, I’m just nervous, let me start again?”, she seems unsure but nods slowly and you clear your throat.

“Right, I don’t really know how to say it, but I guess I’ll start by this. I like you Clarisse,” the words feel like a relief but is short lived as Clarisse scoffs and takes her arm out of your grip.

“Is this a joke? First Castellan now me. Did he reject you and you decided to come to the second-best option?”, the words are like a punch in the guts, and you take a few seconds to react but as you watch her leave, this time towards the lake you can’t help but react.

“Wait! Clarisse! This is not a joke!”, you yell as you follow her and you finally manage to find her as she arrives at the lake, the both of you out of breath.

“Really? How come you were so close to him this afternoon? How come after three years of pining over him you suddenly seem interested in me?”, she yells, and you can see the hurt in her eyes, the pain in them.

“Because I never knew you were an option for me. I never knew you even knew my name Clarisse, so I didn’t think that something could happen between us,” you yell back, feeling desperate for her to listen to you.

“I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize that you were there, that you always were but I am here now, and I am ready to go on my knees to beg you for just a chance,” you tell her, breathless, as you approach her. 

“I have loved you for three years,” she whispers, like a wounded animal, as if she is scared that you would hurt her but instead you take her hand in yours, unsure if she will reject you or not but she just grips it tightly.

“I know, Silena told me,” you tell her softly and her eyes widen at the words, anger coming up but you take her chin between your fingers, making her look at you.

“I am going to kill her,” she whispers, and you smile at the words.

“Please don’t, she’s the one that made me realize just how much I liked you,” you whisper, and she looks surprised for a moment before realizing just how close you were.

“She also helped me go talk to you when I was feeling jealous at the sight of you and that girl,” it’s hard to admit but as you see her eyes sparkling at the confession, you know that you did the right thing.

“Now you know how I felt,” she says, and you can’t help but feel bad.

“I know, I’m sorry for that,” you tell her, but she simply shrugs her shoulders before coming even closer to you.

“Tell me what you wanted to tell me,” she whispers and you shudder at the closeness of her lips against yours but you nod slowly, enjoying her smirk at your reaction.

“I love you Clarisse La Rue and I wanted to ask you if you would like to go on a date with me?”, you make sure that the words are said clearly, that there couldn’t be a misunderstanding.

Clarisse’s lips melting against yours is the only answer you need, as she kisses you like you are the air she needs to breath. You quickly kiss her back, one hand cupping her cheek while the other grabs onto her curls making her moan softly.

“You are going to be the death of me princess,” she whispers, breathless before bringing you into an even deeper kiss, her hands gripping your waist tightly. 

“So, I guess this is a, yes?”, you ask feeling like you are on cloud nine and as you feel her smile against your skin you know you don’t even need her to answer.

“A million times yes,” she whispers against your skin, making you shiver, before continuing to drop soft kisses against your skin.

--

Life had been better ever since that night, Clarisse often joining you into your cabin and learning to live with Percy as the two of them slowly started liking each other more. There were still quests and monsters waiting for you but as you felt her strong arms holding you closer to her, you knew everything would be alright.

[flawseer]

Ok, these time rate me the Jade WInglets

I've been sitting on this work-in-progress picture for so many months now. Maybe if I post it here, I'll finally sit down and finish it.

Very long post incoming.

Discussing the Jade Winglet

Okay. So, you want me to rate the Jade Winglet group. That’s going to be very easy: I love all of them.

It’s also going to be extraordinarily hard because... well... I love all of them. How am I supposed to put them into an ordered list? It can’t be done. So I guess what I’m going to do is: First I will put them into a tier list, and then I’m going to just talk about each of them individually for a bit.

But on account of aforementioned adoration I have for all of these guys, said tier list is going to be very lopsided. The tiers are going to be “I adore them with the intensity of seven suns”, “I really like them”, and “I very much like them, but...”. You’re going to have to imagine that there are five or so more unused tiers below that.

Let’s unceremoniously get that ranking out of the way first. From top to bottom, the tiers are:

I adore Turtle, Qibli, and Winter.

I really like Moonwatcher, Kinkajou, and Peril.

I very much like Umber and Carnelian.

As for more in-depth commentary, here is a disclaimer: When I think about these guys I mostly consider books 6 (Moon Rising) to 9 (Talons of Power) and the first half of 10 (Darkness of Dragons). The second half of 10... if I’m being honest, I didn’t really enjoy it. I don’t want to go into it too much here, if you really want me to talk about my misgivings with the second arc finale, put a message about it in my inbox (it’s not just the obvious thing; it actually mostly pertains to Winter and the absolute nightmare ending he got saddled with, and some very unfortunate character implications).

Some of my musings are also going to be a bit critical. I just want it to be clear that I make these observations as a fan of the series. It’s a good practice to think critically even about media that you like. It helps you better understand why you like it in the first place. Also, I make no demands to be agreed with. This is just how I see it.

Anyway, enough stalling, let’s get into it. Not in order:

Turtle

CW: Parental abuse

Turtle is the most wonderful thing to ever happen in the history of the universe. I wake up every morning and the first thought in my head is “Ugh, another day in this backwards reality where Turtle is not real! No thanks!!” Then I go right back to sleep disappointed until the next day. Okay, maybe that’s a bit hyperbolic. But I do think that everyone’s lives would be greatly improved if Turtle was real.

Turtle is a very vibrant and insightful character who, much like Winter, is unfortunately cursed with a pair of malicious and incompetent "parents". Some of his scenes really hurt to get through if you’re a parent yourself or have ever had parental feelings. The first scene he is in, when Moon observes him arriving at the academy, his mother makes a passing comment about how Turtle has no value because he cannot inherit the throne. Turtle is within earshot when she does this. And he has no overt reaction to it, which to me hints that Coral asserts this about her male children so frequently that he has accepted her line of thinking and internalized it. He just accepts it as the truth. That is heartbreaking.

And then there is his father, mild-mannered and ostensibly gentle Gill, who killed Turtle’s budding interest in writing as well as the entirety of his self-confidence back when he was a kid, by assigning a little boy a task that was well beyond him (and only to him, even though there were more people present who could have helped), and then made him believe he killed his unborn sister when Turtle inevitably couldn’t do what he was asked. The narrative really tries to make Gill sympathetic in that moment by insisting he’s speaking in anger and doesn’t really mean it, but um, no. I don’t buy it, dude. You just gave a little kid a lifelong guilt complex because you couldn’t think of asking more people for help. Or taking the egg with you while you left the hatchery. Or telling Turtle to take a message to the palace guard so someone who didn’t still have their milk teeth could mount a proper, organized search while interim guards were posted in the hatchery. Or literally any of the thousands of other options that didn’t require traumatizing your own son.

As a result, Turtle became emotionally reclusive. He registers to others as dull, placid, unpassionate, and boring, like he cares about nothing and is content to never strive for or achieve anything in his life. He himself explains that writing used to be something he was into at some point, but then lost interest in. But I don’t think he has. He still loves literature and thinking about stories, he's still doing it in his internal monologue. He just denies it because he subconsciously feels the need to punish himself. I imagine he still gets that drive sometimes, to sit down and start writing again. But every time he thinks about it, or catches himself wanting anything, his father’s voice resurfaces in his mind, telling him that he killed his sister and doesn’t deserve it. And then he self-punishes by depriving himself of everything he loves doing and every positive emotion associated with it. Because he is convinced he is guilty for failing his father, when in actuality, the opposite is true.

The tragedy is that, if Gill had known how much damage he caused and wasn’t in a situation where he needed a flowchart to keep his 30+ sons apart, he probably would have apologized. He doesn’t strike me as malicious, just horribly, horribly incompetent as a parent. But as things played out, Gill is no longer able to fix his mistake. The only person who can now grant Turtle the forgiveness he needs is himself. I hope he will be able to do it.

Turtle truly is an endearing character and a wonderful son undeserved by his parents. If I could adopt him right now I would. In fact, I’m gonna do it. Hold on while I get the papers. Wait, I have to finish? Uh... okay.

Moonwatcher

In a sense, Moonwatcher may be the most interesting character in the entire cast. She certainly had the potential to be my favorite character period. But there are a few points holding her back.

The thing about Moonwatcher is that, more than any other character, she requires meticulous care and attention to detail to be written well. The reason for this is that, when you’re writing for Moon, you also technically write for every character she interacts with. She is written brilliantly in her own book, since the narrative is allowed to focus on her; Moon Rising may thus actually be my favorite book of the second arc. It’s very enrapturing, seeing her navigate the academy’s social dynamics after growing up as, essentially, a feral jungle child, and battling with her own feelings of loneliness and inadequacy.

The thing is though... Wings of Fire has a bit of an odd quirk. Something I’ve noticed with regards to its writing is that, whenever a character is not particularly in focus during a scene, they often get reduced to their most basic traits and will rigidly act according to them regardless of prior context or external factors. I call this phenomenon “Auto-pilot”. If you’ve read my Mail Call #3, this is what I think happened to Tsunami during the second arc—Tsunami’s basic traits are that she is bossy, emotional, and blunt, so she spends the entirety of her page time as a deep-sea-themed wrecking ball who yells at everyone and dismisses everything as “ugh, nightwing powers” and “Peril was bad in book 1 once, I hate her forever”, despite having other, more pressing matters to prioritize.

Whenever Moonwatcher gets set to auto-pilot, it is very depressing. She needs careful, attentive writing to shine, and whenever she doesn’t get it she turns from the most interesting character into a dull brick that recites exposition and occasionally exists to be fawned after by boys. Tragically, the auto-pilot hits her bad after Winter’s book is done, and she never manages to escape it afterwards, save for maybe one or two scenes. There is a particularly egregious example in book 10 that, in my opinion, does permanent, irreversible damage to her character. It’s all a bit soul-crushing if dwelt on.

So yeah, I like Moonwatcher. I really do. I just wish the strong way she was written could have carried through the entire arc.

Winter

CW: Parental abuse

I initially didn’t really know what to make of Winter when I read Moon’s book. He seemed kind of like a buttface who was needlessly hostile and unapproachable. But he really comes into his own in his book, and looking back at his earlier scenes with that new context makes it all make sense. He became one of my stand-out favorites after that.

Winter really has a lot in common with Turtle, so much so that I wish those two actually had some deeper interactions with each other. Like, at one point Turtle saves his life, you’d think they would want to talk about that some time. Where Turtle’s parents are one half malicious, one half incompetent, Winter’s are pure malice AND incompetence. Blessed with three children, they managed to completely ruin one of them, almost ruin the other, and then the third one is kind of out of focus so I don’t know how he is faring, but I doubt there is a lot of love there either.

In a way, you can draw a lot of parallels between Winter and Icicle, and Zuko and Azula from Avatar: The Last Airbender—The unfavorite who tries to do right but constantly fails to live up to his father’s/parents' warped standards, and the prodigy who seemingly has her father’s/parents' approval but secretly suffers from the abusive parenting just as much, but in different ways. Hailstorm then tries to take on the role of Iroh, an older figure that acts as a source of positivity and genuine love, and offers a reprieve from the abuse. But where Iroh is an adult drawing from a lifetime of wisdom, Hailstorm is just the slightly older sibling who comes from the same abusive household battling the same demons, so his effectiveness in countering the toxicity is limited.

Where Zuko pursues honor, Winter strives to be strong. Both his parents and his sister perceive him as weak and label him irrelevant. While this hurts him deeply, I don’t think Winter fully surrendered to his inferiority complex until he heard his brother mirror the same sentiment at him. Winter is repressed and struggles with processing his emotions—Thus he heard the words Hailstorm only said to save his life and took them at face value. Even the person he loves the most, the only source of affection and affirmation in his life, thinks he is weak. This is what drives Winter to feverishly desire strength and thus adopt a persona of the strongest thing he knows: a stoic Icewing warrior.

This is why he acts the way he does in book 6: aloof, threatening, unapproachable, invincible. But all of these traits are diametrically opposed to his actual personality, which is warm, compassionate, and just wanting to be loved for who he is. So whenever Moon reads his mind, he comes across as a confused mess of conflicting emotions. Because he is pretending to be something he isn’t.

The interesting thing here is that Winter actually is genuinely strong. He is just unable to recognize his own worth, due to the toxic way royal Icewings are raised, warping his perception of what strength means. When he meets Foeslayer, who is said to be an ancient enemy of his people, his mind cuts through the veneer of tradition and old bullshit justifications and sees her imprisonment for the cruel injustice that it is. He then undoes that injustice and frees her. It takes an incomprehensible amount of personal integrity and willpower to just casually defy the will of your entire country like that. This is equivalent to treason; by aiding her, Winter risks becoming an enemy of his people on par with Foeslayer herself. And he does it anyway, because it is the right thing to do.

This dissonance in his perception of strength with regards to his Icewing upbringing, and the actual strength he embodies and has embodied all this time, is something I would have liked to see explored more in the finale or something. As it stands now, he got pressured into putting his life on the line in the battle for Jade Mountain, has sworn loyalty to a people that mistreated him and tried to ruin him from a young age, and then got saddled with an existential nightmare of an ending that leaves me baffled to this day.

In terms of personal misfortune, he certainly is the Starflight of his group.

Qibli

CW: Parental abuse

Qibli is a very charming and versatile character. It is easy to imagine him in a variety of different situations and the scenes almost write themselves, especially when there’s another person with him whom he can bounce off of (figuratively, though I wouldn’t put it past him to try to literally bounce off of someone too). The 10th book posits him as some kind of parallel to Darkstalker; the latter even overtly states this and tries to recruit him as a manner of apprentice. It’s interesting because I think they are actually pretty different.

Qibli excels in situations where his options are limited. He is great at thinking on his feet and coming up with solutions to problems within a restricted framework. He'd be great in an escape room. This ability of his is shown throughout the arc, but it is especially visible in Moon Rising, where his presence in a scene often makes Moon stronger, or more adept at solving problems, because his mind is breaking down the situation for her in a way she would be unable to see on her own.

The twist then comes in when you take Qibli out of that limited framework, by giving him power. His pronounced intellect is very peculiar; it needs limitation to be brilliant. When he has unhindered access to all-powerful magic (i.e. doesn’t have to clear his ideas with another person), he turns into a colossal idiot who buries cities in sand and almost blows up inhabited mountains.

It only follows that, if you were to give Qibli what he wants and make him an animus, it would absolutely ruin him. The great intellect he cultivated would wither and, unshackled from the limitations that forced him to think critically and be his most excellent self, he would end up destroying himself, and likely others too.

Another interesting facet of Qibli is how he works as a parallel to Winter and Turtle (and Peril to an extent). All of these characters come from broken homes and have suffered under abusive parental figures. Qibli’s case in particular is interesting because it showcases how your circumstances can make a difference in how well you handle that issue. Qibli suffered under a tyrannical mother and a pair of cruel siblings, but in contrast to his peers, someone from the outside noticed his suffering was able to intervene—Thorn saved him from his hell and became his rescue parent, restoring his confidence and sense of self-worth.

Because of this, when his turn comes to confront his demons, while it is still difficult and painful (because trauma always is), he is able to navigate the confrontation with comparatively more grace and control than the others. The contrast really shows how difficult it is to escape a toxic relationship if you are still mired deeply within it, and how you need to put some distance between yourself and it before you can see where you are and what needs to be done with improved clarity. That is the path to healing.

I could probably keep talking about Qibli for 15 more paragraphs, but I’ll spare you.

Kinkajou

Every protagonist (and a good deal of side characters) in Wings of Fire is broken, usually has some kind of gut-wrenching past (often due to terrible parents), and struggles to find their place in the world. Luckily here is a pink-and-yellow Rainwing who is just happy and everything is fantastic and wholesome, right?

CW: Forced starvation

Nah, Kinkajou had it pretty rough too. The story plays it like it’s a humorous quip when she finds out Moonwatcher is her roommate and bemoans that nobody is taking her “trauma” seriously, but... yeah, it actually is legitimate trauma. She was captured, bound, and trapped on a hell island without sunlight for several weeks. While there, she was not fed, and she helplessly watched people whom she knew from early childhood starve and die. Death by starvation is not pretty, she likely had to witness her friends slowly being driven mad by hunger until they withered away, and couldn’t do anything about it. Then she was rescued and returned to a home that didn’t believe her pain was real, that claimed she made it up for attention, and that some people who she thought of as friends didn’t even notice she was gone. The only one who believed her was a stranger whom she had met maybe a few hours ago.

Personally, if that happened to me and I came home to that, I’d likely have pulled a Chameleon and said “Screw the Rainwings, I’m moving to the desert.”

That Kinkajou is still able to be positive and full of energy after that is a testament to her immense mental fortitude. She might actually be one of the most stable and resilient characters in the story. Some things shake her up for a bit, but nothing can crush her.

Still, I imagine there are some times, after a really bad day maybe, where she wakes up in the middle of the night. And there, for just a moment, she is scared to open her eyes... because she might be back on the Nightwing island and has to watch someone else die.

Peril

Peril is a bit of an odd case in arc 2. She gets grouped with the protagonists of that arc and the ending implies she is integrated into the Jade Winglet as their new Skywing. I have no real problem with that, in fact it’s good on her that she’s made a little less isolated. But to me, Peril always felt like an awkward appendix to that group. Her only real friend in there is Turtle; for the rest of them they feel more like vague acquaintances, like she's tolerated for being Turtle's friend.

To be fair though, that friendship with Turtle is really strong; it’s an exciting and deep character dynamic. But if I was forced to tie Peril to a group of protagonists, my first instinct would be to associate her with the first arc protagonists instead.

This poor girl has been through it. Everyone seems to hate her and wants her to leave, sometimes for understandable reasons and sometimes it just seems bizarre. I already went into Tsunami’s disdain for her in an earlier post, but I also vaguely remember a point in Escaping Peril where she meets Qibli and he gives her a withering glare for some reason. That confused me, to be honest. I thought “What’s YOUR problem with her? Have you ever even met??” Like, I guess the Outclaws were in direct conflict with Burn since they lived in the same country, and Peril was an infamous elite combatant under the command of one of Burn’s allies, so maybe Peril killed people he knew? But then he gets over his disdain really quickly and with no comment, so whatever happened can’t have been a big deal after all.

My favorite part in her book is when everyone--after having learned about Turtle’s powers--chews him out for not having helped his country during the war, and Peril cuts through the tripe by saying something along the lines of “So if he uses the power he was born with to serve his Queen it is honorable, but when I do the same for my Queen I’m a murderer and deserve to have things thrown at me?” I love all of these guys, but they really deserved to be called out for their double standard and feel stupid for a bit.

But yeah, I really enjoy her friendship with Turtle in the end. And since he accidentally made himself virtually indestructible, it means Peril can now get all the friendly hugs she craves.

Umber

Umber is cool. He has a potentially interesting relationship with Turtle, which is implied in the latter’s book when it is mentioned that they sleep with their backs touching to comfort each other about their respective siblings not being there.

Unfortunately he gets written out of the story arc very quickly. I wish I knew more about him.

Carnelian

I like Carnelian. I feel like she had a lot of potential that gets wasted by her death, for not much gain. It is used to give Queen Ruby a reason to come to Jade Mountain and kickstart the events of Peril’s book, but the same could have been accomplished by having her learn that the Academy is housing Peril and going there to demand the extradition of a (in her eyes) dangerous and murderous fugitive.

Same as with Umber, really, I wish I knew more about her. I already said this during my Smaugust drawing session, but I like to pretend that she and Bigtail didn’t die, and instead had a mini arc about recovering from their injuries. It also has the side effect of averting some very unfortunate implications that come with Bigtail’s death.

~~~

I think that’s all of them. Good lord I talk too much. Please don’t throw crocodiles at my face for it. Tumblr is my queen, and--much like the Queen's former champion--I was made to do it.

[jifanjiang0710]

platonic yandere! father x fem! reader Warnings: incest (not between yandere and reader)

Fùqīn: Father

“Fùqīn.”

Though his eyes remained shut, legs crossed lazily off the veranda (ruffling his kù), an imperceptible upward quirk of the lips spoke of his acknowledgement. One sleeve hastened to conceal the bowl beside him, but you caught it just before it disappeared behind the garment.

“Intoxicating yourself?” Your tone turned icier, if possible, and your father scrambled to redeem himself.

“Of course not, [Name]-er, just indulging lightly in the morning-” You interrupt him with a whack upside on the head, with a fan someone had gifted you, unsympathetic to his pitiful wail. He had developed a rather bothersome drinking habit as of late, though by all means far from dangerous for your father was an elegiac drunk, often accompanying a teary sort of clinginess. It was evident even for the rare visitor to surmise that he was particularly attached to you, his only daughter and child. Since your birth, after overcoming his initial reluctance to hold you, you were rarely let out of his sight, often seen trailing behind the first prince or wrapped up in his arms, a little bundle of childhood. When he had left the palace you were carried close to his chest, none the wiser.

Even then you found yourself somehow coaxed onto his lap, tugged forward by the arm until your head could rest atop his chest. He raised the wine to your lips, to which you halt him.

“Fùqīn.”

“Alright, alright,” he sighed and set it aside. “Won’t you call me ā-diē like other children do? Am I not enough of a beloved father to you?” The complaint came across as more puerile than heart-wrenching. After failing to garner a response, he tousled your hair, raking long fingers through the strands that would take you two kè to put up. He had insisted before that he could braid your hair just as well as any servant, into a style befitting of the noblest of ladies (he cannot) (he has tried).

“You… must relearn royal etiquette,” you said, shifting out of his grasp to maintain a preferred detachment. “You cannot be sitting so crassly, or running your mouth when we return to the Imperial Palace. Fùqīn, we must demonstrate impeccable manners and grace show that our time here has not diminished our values as royals.”

“My brother deserves none of my effort.” He only pulled you back into the embrace, with the excuse of keeping you warm amidst the third snow of the season. “Was he not the one who saw my exile?”

“It is not just the Emperor. What of the Queen Mother, the princess, the concubines and their children? They will seize any opportunity or weakness to scorn us for lack of refinery. We would never shake of the brand of criminals.” For the first time this morning a draft made you shiver despite not feeling any effect from the cold just now, allowing him to lean in to monopolise more of your body heat. He was sensitive to low temperatures, but would still dwell outdoors frequently in winter months, dressed in scant layers of clothing. As much as he laughed it off as an odd quirk and impulse, you recognised it as a form of punishment, self-imposed suffering he inflicted upon his skin. You dare think that it is due to the guilt he carries for being the reason both you and he were here now, abandoned in an old residence someplace near the northern border.

He had remained silent this while, as if contemplative. An unusual occurrence. The wind tore through the house with greater ardour, brushing across frosted branch and soil to deposit a perilous chill within the stone walls. Finally, he placed a palm over your cheek, a gentle warmth soft as snowflakes adorning his smile, and spoke. “You wish to become a royal again?”

The lump of saliva in your throat felt much harder to swallow. “Yes.”

“Then I shall see it through.”

“…”

“…what’s wrong, [Name]-er?”

You dismissed it as a wandering mind, but you would never admit to him that for perhaps the second time in your whole life, he had frightened you. Though his arms were gentle and eyes soft, you could not find reprieve from the sudden chill you experienced earlier.

While your father the first prince savoured the tranquillity of an early grey noon, you begin to muse on the letter that had arrived so unceremoniously the month before. A horseman handed it to you, you unfurled the scroll, he left.

It carried the official stamp and seal of the Imperial Palace, a message direct from the emperor. The Emperor! Casting his gaze on disgraced royals such as you? The contents merely spoke of a potential reinstatement of both your titles by the next Lunar New Year, in time to celebrate the spring festival. The next announcement would be of the emperor’s visit to your humble residence. What could prompt him to make an in-person trip, much less to a land so far from the capital?

You had relayed this enthusiastically to your father, who nearly gave you heart palpitations when he downright refused to accommodate his brother the emperor.

“Fùqīn! You cannot reject a decree!”

“[Name]-er.” The autumn leaves had littered the courtyard, the task of clearing them he conveniently ignored. “I know you are eager for our period of exile to end-”

“I am! I don’t want to have you live like this anymore, not when you were supposed to be the Crown Prince, not when they slammed you with baseless accusations of treason!”

“Guāi, don’t be angry. Come here…”

But you snatch your hand out of his grip, seething at the injustice of your circumstances. “Even if we have to be civil to him, it doesn’t matter. As long as we can…”

‘As long as my father won’t have to bear the burden of his punishment anymore. As long as I can have a chance to provide for him better in the future, find a proper job in the capital… for both our sakes.’ You left that unsaid.

He laughed. He laughed and it was so incongruous that you were frozen in place. “My sweet daughter. Are you worried about me?”

“No. It’s so I can have a better life. You can rot here for all I care.”

“I know you would never do that.” He tugged you down effortlessly into his arms, wooden tea table shoved aside, and like a snake constricted you so tight you had to hit him twice on the head for him to loosen up. “My daughter… tell me this. Have I ever seemed displeased with my life here?” You can feel the weight of his chin on your head.

“[Name]-er, I am content here. As long as we are together, and I have you.”

Come to think about it, that’s when his excessive drinking problem worsened. ______________________________________________________________ Meeting the Emperor

The emperor’s arrival mirrored opposite of that of the letter. A silken-draped carriage, held aloft by muscled workers from further up north, the procession led by finely-maned horses and their carts. Only the wine vessels caught your father’s interest. You clutched your fan close, the same one that had arrived enclosed within the letter. That item, you did not disclose its origins to your father. As far as he is aware you had picked it up while visiting the town market.

The emperor, with all his grandeur, still did not hesitate stepping into the estate with only two accompanying soldiers, his retainers instructed to linger just outside the courtyard, and conveniently out of earshot.

“Ye Heqing.” He addressed your father, a courteous smile gracing his attractive features. “It has been a while, gē.” Upon receiving no response, his smile only widened, and he directed the next greeting to you. “[Name]-er.”

“Who gave you the right to call her that?” You had to placate your father, and kneel in his place. The emperor’s eyes lay on the fan he gifted you with, fixed securely to your side with a wooden chain.

“Huángshàng, please forgive him, he has not been feeling very well-” Blind panic swims in your vision, from the corner of your field of view you could witness your father scoff dismissively, obviously enraged at the familiarity in which his brother addressed you.

“I was fine until you came. Leave my family alone.” Ye Heqing takes a step closer to the emperor, his younger brother, the plain thin hanfu a distinguishing contrast to the latter’s dark red robes and golden-rimmed cap, while their faces parallel an eerie similarity.

“I assure you, gē, I wish no harm. I have but one request, that is the chance to speak with your daughter, my niece, in private.”

“LIKE HELL I WOULD LET-”

Your father was dragged away by the soldiers out of his own house, thrashing and yelling profanities so blasphemous it would have a commoner executed should they attempt the same.  “[NAME]!” he howls out as a final desperate parting, or perhaps for help.

You raise an eyebrow.

“Now that that has been settled, shall we converse?” The emperor signals for you to stand, and you lead him to the tearoom, suddenly conscious of the sole shaky desk that had served you loyally for fifteen years. With trembling fingers and a chipped pot, you poured him a tea of the finest variant of leaves you owned, freshly ground.

“Thank you.” If he did not enjoy it, your uncle did not make it obvious. On the contrary his attention seemed to be fixated on something else. If not the fan you kept by your waist, then your eyes, forehead, hands, as if scrutinising.

He lifts the chains that attach the fan to the fabric. “I shall have to replace these with jade beads instead.” You still. Since when had he come so close?

“Have you considered my offer?” Another hand brushes past your hip, subtly at first, then snaking around it to grip.

In truth there was another part to the letter you had hidden from your father. A separate note handwritten by the emperor, to convey a personal request.

“So?” He inquired, savouring the hitch of your breath when his chest presses into your spine. “I have waited long for your correspondence, leaving me no choice but to advance my visitation earlier.”

“No.” Pulling away, you recall your father’s words.

‘I am content here. As long as we are together…’

“No,” you repeated. “Please forgive this niece, Huángshàng, for I am unable to accept that condition. I cannot, and will not, marry you.”

For a minute, it seemed as though the emperor were about to protest. The sharpness in his eyes began to brandish its piercing tip. He would have appealed somehow, with the title of Empress, or the solid security of your status and lifestyle, reverence of the kingdom, maybe even temptations of the flesh from a man as desirable as he (for who else would liaise with a banished royal?).

He chose to express none of those. Instead, he listened intently for another sound from outside. Surely enough, if you strained your ears, Ye Heqing could be heard through muffled shrieks. The emperor shook his head.

“I have desired you for a number of months now. Your resilience in the face of tribulation and commendable feats to keep yourself and my brother alive for this long have reached my ears. Consider me impressed. Though banished and left to die, you have established good rapport with the local townsfolk, enough to secure yourself a source of income.

“It hardly ends there. Utilising your father’s royal education and knowing he could not apply for the imperial scholar examinations; you advertised him as a tutor instead. Though lazy and idle my brother may be, he has the heart to spend his days teaching and nights studying. Two silver taels… a bargain of a price, for such a reputable teacher.” He flashes that signature charming smile, but nothing like the warmth of your father’s grin. “But,” the teacup is set down, “is that the fate you wish to burden him with forever? An unstable income with barely enough to wear additional layers of clothes in winter?”

He is referring to your father’s self-inflicted pain. You are about to raise your voice, defend him and explain the reason for such, but you understand what he is getting at. Do you want Ye Heqing to continue making himself suffer?

Sensing your hesitance, your uncle continues, taking your right hand in his. “He is not getting any younger, nor am I. I wish to settle down, with a wife competent enough to rule beside me for the maintenance and expansion of the kingdom. A wife who is, simply speaking, as gorgeous and spirited as you.” He placed a kiss on the top of each knuckle, gaze lidded and implicit.

“My father… is happy here. And he would never agree to be with the family that scorned, framed him for-”

“Framed?” The emperor’s eyebrows knitted in a perplexed scowl, though anyone could tell that it was insincere. The twitch of his eyes and repressed grin told that he had been anticipating the opportunity to bring up the topic of your father’s crimes. “Whatever do you mean, my dear?”

“He… he was innocent. He had never betrayed the former Emperor, or the kingdom! You had no evidence and only sought to exile him for the throne! Yes, he is greedy, indolent, obstinate, eats too much, drinks too much, deceptive, blur, foul-mouthed and everything in between, but he would never…”

“Never what, [Name]-er?”

“Never…” You don’t know why you faltered. “Never steal from the Emperor.”

Your uncle laughed. He laughed and it sounded just like your father, so incongruous that you have an odd sense of deja-vu. “Is that what he told you? Hahahahahaa… I,” he manages between fits of giggles, “Ye Moyao, Emperor of the XX kingdom, have never heard such a blatant falsehood in my life.”

“Wh- But he said that you accused him of stealing fifty-thousand taels, from palace reserves, to…”

He rubbed his chin. “True, we never did find out where the half a wàn silver taels had went, but he was convicted for a very different reason. Poor thing, did he not tell you?” He leaned in closer, lips to your ear. “Has he lied about it all these years?”

Seeing how dumbstruck you are, he resumes, voice somber. “Ye Heqing was found guilty of the attempted murder of the former Emperor, our father. He had kept a vial of poison in his sleeve pocket, to serve to him when he had the chance. Fortunately, it merely made him severely ill, and my father recovered within the year, by which time we had already identified Ye Heqing as the culprit and had both of you exiled.”

“You’re lying.” You would never have dared address the emperor rudely, but the news was absurd. Your father- No, that was impossible. “It’s not true-”

“I could have him executed; you know.”

The threat silences you. He chuckles. “Marry me. You --- nor he --- would have to suffer here any longer.”

You think long and hard, and nod.

______________________________________________________________

Days in the Palace

You saw the emperor’s entourage off as far as the edge of the town. Following your acceptance he had tried to lay a hand on you but was refused.

“Didn’t you notice, [Name]-er? The way he looked at you?! I’ll pluck out his eyes and scatter his remains! I’ll kill him! How dare he lay such a repulsive gaze on MY daughter? I’ll murder him, I really will-!”

“Fùqīn, you are not sober. Take the herbal tea.”

This tirade had gone on for the better half of the evening after the emperor’s departure. While you held the wine bowl high out of reach from his kneeling form, you began to consider the implications of a marriage with Ye Moyao. Surely it would be scorned and opposed, seeing as he was your uncle, but public opinion had never stopped him for acquiring what he wanted. The punishment of beatings for marrying within family or clan was a threat null and void in the face of the Emperor. You doubted he would have selected a very auspicious date for the ceremony, given how eager he seemed for the marriage to commence early.

Of course, your father was not informed of this decision.

“[Name]-errrr…”

“Tch. Do not display such disgraceful behaviour once we return to the palace.”

A sniffle from him.

Then, about eight nights before the Spring Festival, you two had ridden a modest carriage to the capital after collectively refusing the transport arranged by the Imperial Palace. Nearly immediately upon entrance you and your father had been separated much to his obvious chagrin. A band of handmaidens had ushered you off to an ornate room of dark wood and stone, and tutors were assigned to subject you to a strict series of lessons, educating you on national matters, the Lunyu, royal customs etc. Your diet had been no stranger to close scrutiny, and however majestic and grand the palace and its surrounding gardens may be, you were often confined to the spaces between the classroom and your chambers. Not that you minded that much, you still managed to interact with a great host of persons, and some childhood friends you could hardly recall.

You had not seen your father since. Word from the servants were that he had been called to meet the Emperor, by which time he would have learnt of his only child’s engagement with his own brother. Much to your astonishment there had been no news of a large fuss somewhere in the grounds; Ye Heqing was reputed for his rashness when it involved his daughter in particular. Speaking of your father, he became the favourite topic for gossip amongst the royal family and their associates. That much you could glean even with your limited interactions outside. About his attempted murder, his time in exile. It made you seethe. How could they assume so much of his character, his person when barely understood him?

In the days that followed it would be amiss to neglect the mention of the various gifts your soon-to-be husband was delivering to your quarters each morning. Whether it be your favourite mooncake flavours (how did he know??), vibrant and colourful jewellery, or intricate gadgets from the West, Ye Moyao seemed to acutely pinpoint your tastes, only selecting items that would catch your intrigue or fancy. It was mildly unsettling, as if he could pry you open and browse through your soul at will. It was lucky that your father was forbidden to meet with you for now, or else you think he would have eaten all the gifted snacks in your stead.

Until now it seemed that the emperor had no interest in meeting you until the wedding date. Your wedding was set conveniently on Lunar New Year’s Eve (appalling choice of date), and you only got to see your father on the day itself.

Your hair was done up by no other than the Queen Mother herself, who had wordlessly visited your abode and with elegant wrinkled fingers finished the job with an elaborate golden hair stick, another present from Ye Moyao. When you finally locked eyes with him at the ceremony banquet, there was an unidentifiable gleam within his gaze. The crimson red of your dress under the dark vest matched the colour of the sash over his flowing garments. From the second you were led down the red carpet you could feel the scrutiny of others creeping up your spine, nestling between the ossicles of your ears and piercing like clouds through your ribs. The traitor’s child. The emperor’s new obsession.

Strangely enough, your father was not here. Though your eyes ran many a lap over the whole courtyard you could not catch the familiar mop of brown hair floating in the crowd. Maybe it was not such a bad thing. He would have wasted no time in objecting to the marriage disrupting the progression of the wedding. You had no time to be disappointed, for the kowtowing ritual and tea-serving ceremony had begun. Even as you ate at the table, responding quite mechanically to the inquiries of the former emperor and the Queen Mother you had little rest, for Ye Moyao was gripping tightly to your hand for the most part, occasionally sliding up your knee and thigh. Expression still unreadable, you decided it tedious to do anything but entertain his whims.

Even as he carried you to the bridal chambers, you had not protested much.

______________________________________________________________

Ye Heqing's Appearance

“Dear wife, would you come here?”

After the whole ordeal of the ceremony you were spent, having little time to relish in the reinstatement of your official title alongside your new title as empress. Regardless you still made your way to sit beside him on the lavish bed.

Your uncle hums in satisfaction, pulling you close by the waist to bury his nose into your neck and inhale deeply. “It has been a while since I cared so much to indulge in a woman, much less choose to marry her.”

“Where is my father?”

He shook his head. “You needn’t concern yourself with the whereabouts of a traitor. I am all that you need t-”

“He is not.”

“…what makes you so sure? He had hidden the truth behind his banishment for a little less than two decades. Why are you so adamant on his innocence?”

It was as though the blood flow to your heart had halted. Every nerve and capillary burned with an overwhelming distaste, wanting to tear our flakes of skin where he had touched you, yet you remain pliant and silent. His hand moves to the knots on your vest, undoing them slowly, sensually. When he had reached for the hem of your dress your eyes were tightly shut, fists clenched at the side.

Expecting to feel cool air against your skin, you did not anticipate the warmth of a palm over your eyelids, and hot splatters of oozing liquid onto your skin. A gurgling and choke from Ye Moyao.

Once you cared enough to open them, you are instantly wrapped in the embrace of a familiar set of arms, carrying with them a homely, earthly scent. When you tried to pry him away to see just what he had done, Ye Heqing’s grip on you only became firmer, sword grasped in the other hand, intent on shielding you from the grotesque sight of his brother’s slit neck.

“Sweet girl, are you alright?” Your father uttered over the gasps and ruffling from his brother’s writhing. “Fùqīn is here.” He examines the ‘man’ that was the emperor, perhaps hoping to have prolonged his torment a little longer, but you came first. Once his beloved daughter was safe and secure he would go for the rest of the royal family, and then he could have his fun.

You think your father had entered through the window, or had hidden here for a while already. It did not matter; you would ask him of it later. “Your Royal Highness,” you addressed the emperor, back still turned to his although Ye Heqing had let you out of his arms to approach the dying man, “my father had not attempted to murder you and the former emperor.”

You could imagine his gaze, pupils blown wide and fixed manically on you. You only exhale and retreat. “If that was truly the case, he would have succeeded.”

A final slash of the bloodied blade, and Ye Moyao was no more.

[muntitled]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐕𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧

Lukas Matsson x Fem!Reader | Kendall Roy x Fem!reader

Summary: Kendall had always been a competent, steady boyfriend, but there is always, always room for improvement.

Warnings: Language, Politics, Business, Cheating, Mentions of murder, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, CNC, Rough Sex, choking, degradation, ownership kink, dom/sub dynamics. Roman as his own warning.

I am mentally unwell, and so is Matsson.

Due to your perilous schedule as a political and public figure, arguing with your lover had never really made it past scheduling in the smorgasbord of your career. Perhaps that is why Kendall decided to pick unnecessary fights in the middle of a Swedish trip. He felt, and rightfully so, infinitesimally insignificant when compared to the hellscape that is your established career in the American political sphere.

You can see it in the way his broad shoulders hunch slightly, the way his larger lower lip protrudes into a petulant pout.

You're appalled.

"Kendall, you can't be fucking serious," Your first night on Matsson's retreat was scheduled to be filled with myriad orgasms in myriad uncanny positions. You and Kendall should be christening this luxury suite, but, instead you find your voice has climbed to ungodly octaves to a point that you feared you may shatter the glass wall that displayed the quiet Norwegian woods.

You couldn't give even half a shit as to whether others housed in adjoining tree-house suites might hear your furious bickering.

"You're a fucking child," he says lowly, desperately trying to regain control over the situation but only fumbling it by the second, "Do you know that?"

"No!" You exclaim, "Iverson and Sophie are!" He turns his back to you. Your nails dig into the bedsheets, "Those are your actual children, yeah!? When was the last fucking time you called them!? You're too busy measuring your dick against the Swedes- you're too busy to give Rava a fucking call."

"I have met plenty of selfish sociopaths in my day, Kendall, but this is unfathomable." His shadow falls over you like a second cloud in the already darkened suite's interior.

"Did she put you up to this?" He asks in that manic state of his with his hand pointed outward in condemnation of his most recent enemy.

"Are you aware that you have children together? You will know her for the rest of your life, are you aware of that?"

Kendall is quick to deflect, "Fuck! I can't catch a fucking break. Of course you run to my ex and- and- what? You fucking-meet up at Tasha's. Fucking talking about Kendall's cock-rings over your croissants."

You withhold the urge to laugh by letting a wave of fury wash over you anew. "You didn't even tell them their grandfather died before you dragged us out to fucking Norway, Kendall! That's unhinged! You're unhinged!"

"I'm perfectly hinged!" He says, turning away from you, pyjama pants billowing as he grabs his keys and a pack of cigarettes, "I'm like the doors on fucking Downing street, motherfucker," He speaks lowly. Voice simmering. "I'm fucking hinged."

The door slams with finality, leaving you clinging to your robe in front of a backdrop full of trees.

There's a deeply sated sigh that leaves your throat as you haul yourself over the Egyptian linen sheets. Fighting with Kendall had always been an impossible feat- something akin to yelling obscenities at a brick wall smeared with cocaine, but it always left you marginally satisfied after. A part of you felt like you might be saving him.

There is a frown, slight and not at all visible in the low evening light, drifting across your face as you stare down at yourself with disappointment and a hint of disapproval. Kendall was supposed to rip this robe right off you the second you got out of the shower. But, instead, you find yourself turning on your side, staring at the pines beyond the glass.

The sound of the door clicking open, ruins the serenity that had begun to settle.

"I for sure thought you'd gone and blown your head off for real this time, Ken." You mumble monotonously while staring ahead at the glass.

"While all these hungry vultures at my retreat does make me lean into the sound of suicide, I quite enjoy living."

You're quick to pull your unravelled rope across your frame as you sit up against the oak headboard.

"Not Kendall." He says.

Matsson towers enough to hunch slightly and disrupt the flow of the sleek, vertical finishes.

"Why are you here?"

"Well it is my retreat."

He smiles. Or at least you believe that he believes he is smiling. Sharks can't smile, you don't think.

"My house."

Lukas shoves his hands in pockets as he continues to stare at you. His disciplined eyes never stray or drift across your exposed legs, they never gloss over your deadly grip on the tightened robe digging into the plushness across your middle.

He's staring at you. Eyes boring into eyes.

"I've come to deliver a noise complaint."

"Consider it delivered."

He does not leave. Instead, he delves deeper into your space, the space shared with your boyfriend. You watch carefully as Matsson plants himself on the edge of the bed. There is an air of nervousness that bristles throughout the Norwegian woods as he brings one leg up to cross the other. You watch, entranced by how the soft Tom Ford sweatpants crease slightly under his fluid movements. His beige Balenciaga shirt sits comfortably and it elicits a sense of control as he makes himself comfortable in front of you.

The one thing you could never allow yourself to be was intimidated, and intimidation is all you heard from the mouths that affirmed this man. However, the subtle yet suffocating label whoring, the designer sandals…

He was just another man, suffocated by the weight of his own money. He had everything to prove. That gave you control.

"I didn't know when Kendall brought me on this trip that I was to be subjected to an invasion of privacy,"

"I heard you the first time," He says, chuckling in complete condescension, "I am aware you're here with Kendall. You don't have to bring him up the whole fucking time."

"Are you here under work pretences then? I'm not involved in the hellscape that is ATN, nor the Nazi wonderland that is Waystar so I would make a lousy spy."

"I know who you are," his eyes dart away, giving you enough time to break slightly, take heavier breaths and compose yourself, "I've seen the work you are… attempting to accomplish in that flaccid dick of a country," His gaze is back on you, "And while I do applaud you, politics bores me. You're all fucked anyway, I just came here to enquire if you would like to have sex with me?"

The manner in which he says those words, so calmly and succinctly, has you praying for another moment of regeneration while he darts his eyes away.

"You mean the noise complaint was a fluke?"

"In addition to the noise complaint, I would like to sleep with you, yes."

You're practically suffocted with the over abundance of choice. Matsson would be a fun and interesting side project for you to sink your claws into and manipulate with the added advantage of sex.

But there is a darkness lurking behind this man's gaze that promises far too much risk with little to no reward.

"No, I think I'm good. Thanks for stopping by, Lukas. It was certainly not a pleasure talking to you-"

You speak calmly, shuffling off the bed so you can escort him to the door. "Please find yourself outside of my personal and habitual space kindly and quickly-" but the axis tilts, and he does a daring thing by encircling a strong grip on your forearm. You try to lurch your arm out of his iron grip but it's fucking sealed around you like a constricting python. The darkness seems so incredibly poignant. God, all this man holds is darkness.

"I did not ask for myself." He says with a hint of condescension, "I asked for you." Matsson has you locked between his spindly legs while your robe billows open. Your face warms as you feel coolness settle against your exposed stomach but Lukas' eyes never leave your own.

From this angle, there is no chance to look away. Everything is maximised, from the wrinkles running like river channels underneath his bright blue eyes to the slight overbite in his teeth, perhaps his only external flaw.

What a dangerous individual.

"They're Roys." Lukas says, "He's a Roy," You suddenly feel juvenile and bashful, as you take the scolding, "You should know better,"

You're only vaguely aware that the distance between you two has been lessening because the air feels warmer. His breath is mixing with yours and his hand is doing a funny little dance along your forearm. "You should know better," He says.

And perhaps you should have closed the distance, perhaps you should have chased him away. You certainly should not have waited for a pair of irregular footsteps approaching to finally push the lumbering man away from you. Thankfully, he kindly obliged although Matsson's hand stalled, still rubbing against your elbow when Kendall stumbles in.

"Uh, what the fuck are you doing here? What the fuck is he doing here?" Kendall's eyes are tired and bloodshot and you step away from Lukas' gravitational pull as you curl into Kendall's side. Kendall's suede Versace jacket is cool but his skin is warm as you burrow into the side of his neck. Your guilt worsens as you feel Kendall's arm curl around your waist.

You speak into Kendall's ear, loud enough for Lukas to hear, "Matsson is still trying to rape your company, I'm afraid. " You say with a lazy smile.

"Already raped," Says Lukas, shuffling passed the two of you, "Logan was the decision maker, remember?"

Before the man finds himself over the threshold, Kendall speaks up.

"Hey, no more private visits, yeah? Not cool."

You watch with bated breath as Matsson only cracks a toothy lopsided grin before tapping the wood of the doorframe and disappearing.

That evening had ended, like most of the evenings to come, with angry, jealousy-fueled sex. There had always been a distinct animosity between Kendall and Matsson but whatever had been in the air seemed to triple. Kendall kept you close during the entire experience. He kept you under Kremlin-level surveillance but he couldn't be with you all the time. In the moments you found yourself without Kendall, Matsson would appear from out of the shadows like a demon, slinking behind you with a hand ghosting your hip. He watched you from above the rim of whiskey-filled tumblers and even asked for your input whenever conversation within the group got a little political. One such conversation had the unfortunate interjection of one Roman Roy, who saw you as another toy in his toy box.

"What do you need two assistants for anyway?" The grinding of your teeth come to a deafening halt as you turn your head to face the youngest Roy. The smile on your face is amicable, some might even call it polite, but it is a well enough facade veneering the tempest brewing beneath.

"What- does Jess hold your balls while you tell knock-off Maya Angelou here" He points to you, "-to bend her head and suck?"

There were a number of things you simply allowed when it came to your courtship with Kendall Roy. You would even shame yourself into admitting that you might have found Kendall's overall emotional incompetence and dysfunctional family quite endearing in the beginning. But, like every magnificent, spine curling orgasm, the magic ebbed away quickly and soon, you were left with nothing but the wetness of his cum, cooling between your thighs.

That is what Kendall and his siblings were like most times.

Cooling, diabolical cum.

"Rome, come on." And therein lay Kendall's consistent, valeant response, of which he chose to defend you.

Rome. Come on.

Simply hearing those words leave his brother's mouth with even the faintest hint of disapproval sent Roman into a frenzy (you could see his pupils dilating and his cock hardening from your spot on a couch adjacent to Roman and Shiv). Matsson's entire foyer was set alight with amicable, drunken murmurs, of which Greg's nervous whimpers were occasionally heard peppered in.

Tom had retired to bed, (whether that would be in the same suite as Shiv, would be a satisfactory cup of tea you would divulge with your girlfriends later.) Matsson and his followers sat in their own private harem in a corner beside you.

"What?" Roman cries, slamming back a handful of ground nuts (an admittedly clever substitute for Swedish alcohol) "I was just asking a question. I know your people like to claim reparations for a lot of shit these days but I'm sure enquiring about the girl my big brother's fucking doesn't equate to slavery."

Although you hated the little demon with every bright blue blood cell running through your arteries, you did admire the sure-fire way he would spit his hateful vitriol.

"I appreciate the faux-concern, Roman." You keep it curt, cute and even forgiving, hoping he might take the win and leave you to down the last of your Hennessey in peace.

"That's your cue," Kendall announces, "Drop it."

"Look at how wet she's getting from my rich white brother finally using his voice to defend her for once." The conversation between the Swedes had long since ceased and your throat clogs as the music tins through hidden speakers. "Kenny so clearly has a type," Says Roman, now facing his brother with his elbows steepled on his knee. "I bet you couldn't wait to dive into that plethora of liberal pussy, could you, big brother?"

Your patience had long since snapped and your words are flying before you could stop them, "Considering you couldn't even get pussy without catching a rape charge or an incredibly disappointed prostitute, I'll assume this pseudo-incest interest you have in Kendall's sex life is normal,"

Roman only laughs, "No amount of sick burns is going to release you from the fact that your fucking a crackhead. Maybe it's the money," he taps the bottom of chin in a flamboyant display of consideration, "Although if it's raping our company that's your main goal, the Swedes might have you beat." Matsson straightens in your periphery, not by a lot but by enough to have a stoney smile cracking across your face.

"ATN is not my vice. Racist Propaganda doesn't get me as wet as it gets you, Roman."

"How convenient. I thought all Leftys held special orgys dedicated to besmirching racist propoganda."

Your response was already loaded in the back of your throat, aimed and ready to fire at Roman with reckless abandon. If it weren't for Lukas' interjection, you would have hoped to leave the little man bleeding all over Matsson's marble floors.

"You let him talk to your woman like that?" The rest of the party had left this specific ring of people behind, but that seemed okay. Everyone within the circle, the important people, were silent as Matsson turned his attention to a floundering Kendall.

"Maybe worry about your situation over there and I'll worry about mine."

"I'm not worried." Says Lukas, with a fierce stoicism that was so unique to him. Your heart rate speeds up ever so slightly as the couch groans while Lukas begins to rise. His friends each hold knowing smiles. Hungry smiles.

"Would you like to know why I'm not worried?" Asks Lukas, advancing with a slow gait. You turn your head just in time to watch Kendall's Adam's apple against his throat. He was speechless as per usual when the discussion didn't involve drugs or stock prices.

"Ask." Says Lukas as he advances. "Ask me why I'm not worried."

Upon you first meeting, you had found Lukas' height to be quite rude and unbecoming. You expected him to duck down, almost out of courtesy for the rest of the world laying low underneath him. As his shadow falls over you and Kendall, you find yourself grateful for this giant man making your boyfriend feel small for once- almost as small as you were made to feel around the Roys.

"Why aren't you worried?" Kendall's voice is still masked with confidence as he peers up at Matsson.

Matsson, who's teeth glint in the low evening light, like a hungry shark. He bends down low. You move slightly out of the way as he whispers into Kendall's ear.

"Because I'm gonna fuck her, okay?"

Absolute silence grows pregnant between the two and you're left to do nothing but watch as the exchange unfolds and Kendall's perceived control over everything and everyone unravels. His mouth opens and closes slightly while Matsson watches with a sadistic sort of pleasure in his eye…

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"Nothing," Says Lukas, having returned to his full height. "I didn't say anything. I just asked your-" His blue eyes darts to you and back, "-friend, if she'd like to see my bookshelf in the living room. I saw her reading Bronte earlier," Matsson shrugs, "Thought I might extend the invitation."

Lukas is not one to wait for confirmation, nor is he a man that waits for validation. He shuffles out his foyer, quite comfortably leaving present company behind with his hands stuffed in his pockets. No rebuttal from Kendall needed.

"Where the hell do you think you're going? What are you doing?" You lift yourself from the couch, ironing out the invisible creases on your plaid Chanel skirt as your eyes dart to Roman, now in idle conversation with Siobhan.

"They're just books, Kendall." You sigh softly. "You can't honestly believe I'd be any safer here." You deliver one final gaze at his lesser appealing siblings before following Matsson out of the foyer. The amount of people congesting the dark corridors lessen as you venture further into Matsson's abode. The walls are built with a dark, heavily sanded stone. Something casting a very ominous, yet unmistakably earthy glow throughout the corridor as the mouth spills into a large and defining living room. The colours are dark. The coal walls are all encompassing and Matsson stands beside a low leather couch, waiting rather awkwardly for your arrival.

"There is no library or bookshelf." He says with his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his sweats.

"I figured. You strike me as someone that would keep all their books stored on some gadget."

"Technology and leisure are the two civilizers of man," He says, watching you with bated breath as you slink around his living room, eyeing but never once prodding his things.

"Don't misquote Disraeli, it's not very attractive."

Matsson seems to relax at that, opting to take a step closer to you as he speaks, "I'll misquote Disraeli as much as I want. The 'increased means and increased leisure' part seems a little far-fetched." Your heart begins to hammer in your chance at the advancing man and you turn, whether out of cowardice or bashfulness, choosing rather to examine the sculpture along his mantle.

Your back begins to straightens as warmth radiates from him. He does not move but he cages you in. You would not be able to leave his sphere even if you wanted to.

"We don't have to fuck, obviously. It just didn't seem safe for you to stay in that situation."

You turn slowly and you find yourself slightly jarred by Matsson's proximity. His turtleneck hugs a string and definite build and the hunger in his eyes melts all inhibitions.

"I don't need saving."

"I'm talking about the little angry man." He says, referring to Roman. "I've seen your debates. It's the little nugget of American politics I find myself quite entertained by and I have no desire to wipe a Roy's blood off my floors this evening."

His words end up snapping any and all inhibition as you're throwing yourself quite mercilessly at him. The kiss is silent but so inexplicably charged allowing you to bump into various pieces of furniture in the process of pushing you up against the nearest stone wall. A wall that is cold to the touch, eliciting a surprised gasp which fuels Lukas all the more. He displays wet slobbering kisses down the nape of your neck as he murmurs drunkenly in your ear.

"I like seeing you like this. I like seeing you among my things." The conviction present in his gravelly vibrato has a pool of wetness gathering in between your legs. Your arm circles around his broad back until your pulling, rather roughly at the blonde hair curling at the nape of neck. This had consequently been a morbid mistake because his grip travels to your throat lightning fast, compressing a dangerous weight on your oesophagus as he rips his lips away from your throat.

"You don't get to do that," he says far too casually. "You don't get to assume control when you are here in my house with my things."

Matsson keeps his eye trained on you but your focus in compounded, solely, on his wandering hand tracing the hem of your skirt. "Hey, hey, hey." As you strive to keep watch of his wandering hand, Matsson moves his head into your line of vision.

"My things. Yeah? You're apart of that now."

As his hand inches underneath your skirt you're suddenly flooded with a wave of unfamiliar emotions - fear being the most poignant and defining one.

"I don't want to do this anymore-" You're not sure whether you mean it or not but you're quite certain that Matsson doesn't care. You're suddenly truly aware that you had released something you don't really know how to control.

"Bullshit, you don't want to do this anymore." You finally feel his hand sliding into your panties and your legs wavers underneath you, "Your words say stupid shit," Sings Lukas as his fingers ghost over your swollen clothes, "But your cunt just can't seem to lie." His grip on your throat tightens before relaxing as he brings your head up to his lips. "You're fucking soaked."

"I'll fucking sue you," Although you're unable to assume a single confident tone as his fingers begin to play with your cunt, "I'll fucking take you to court for fucking assault, motherfucker."

"You wanna call Kendall for assistance?" He asks, slyly pushing his middle finger deep inside you with no regard for your strangled gasp. "Here, let's call him together. Say 'Kendall!'"

The only thing able to leave your mouth is a straggled moan as Matsson keeps you pinned to the wall by the throat. The sound of your voice - so incoherent and helpless has him evading any sliver of decency he might have had. "Fuck, you're so perfect." He places a chaste kiss on your cheek before spinning you around until he is sandwiched between your body and the wall. "I have to fuck you."

"Watch the door for me," he says, pulling your hips right up against the bulge in his pants. "Watch just in case Kendall, shows up. Right, sweet girl?"

You're nodding dumbly as Lukas hunches his tall frame while grinding his bulge into your backside. He has your skirt lifted, and his shadow casted over you as he murmurs diabolical things into your ear.

"God, you're a fucking slut, you're such a fucking slut." He keeps a grip on your throat while the unoccupied hand reaches around to lift your shirt haphazardly, "No amount of smart ass comments will ever hide the fact that you're just another whore." The casual air with which he degrades has you simultaneously humping the air while you push back against his bulge. It is in that moment when he finally decides to release his aching cock from his sweatpants dotted with precum.

"Jesus Christ, feel how hard you made me. Feel how fucking turned on I am just because you decided to be a stupid slut." You can feel the head of his cock pressing into you until you're unable to hold in the desperation.

"Jesus- Lukas!"

"What? You want me to fuck you? I think you want me to fuck you but I'm not sure." You're unsure of what he's asking, too blinded by the possibility of a carefully curated orgasm.

"Go on." He says, "Ask me to fuck you. Ask me to fuck your pussy while your boyfriend waits just downstairs."

There are tears pooling in your eyes at the sheer lewdness and the unapologetic quality of this betrayal, but your mouth opens and soon, you're shakily crying out. "Please just fuck me, Lukas."

His cock rams into you with a surety that leaves you winded. He seems as if his patience had been waning as well, what with the haggard sigh that leaves his throat and the numerous disquiet groans that float in the air. Despite yourself, you do keep a half-lidded gaze on the entrance, not put off, but rather spurred on with the possibility of your boyfriend finding you being railed by his latest rival. The thought alone has you clenching around Lukas' cock with your orgasm cresting.

"Whatever you're thinking about, I'm going to need you to think about it again- you're so fucking tight."

There's an animalistic quality to the sex- being bent over for him while he rests against a wall, a firm grip on your throats and your tits as he rams himself into you again and again.

It's far too much.

You wouldn't think there was something so ruthless hiding underneath such a calm veneer but that's all it is. All it always had been. A veneer.

"You're not with him anymore, do you hear me?"

"Fuck- Lukas I'm gonna cum soon," his grip on your throat tightens until it vacuums out any and all air. Your hand encircles his wrist, begging for release but to no avail.

"Tell me," he says as he continues to fuck mercilessly into you, "Tell me you don't belong to him." He finally gives you lee-way to talk and you're gasping out your response, "I don't. I don't belong to him," he nods slightly, brows firing as he bites into your shoulders.

"Fuck- I didn't plan to cum inside you-"

"I don't fucking care- I'm really close." Lukas nods quickly before releasing your neck to drag your cheek until your faces are pressed together in a smouldering kiss. "Fuck I'm gonna cum inside you-"

His words already have you diving headfirst into a groundbreaking orgasm. You're crying out helplessly, until Matsson has enough sense to cover your mouth with one large hand. He fucks you through it, filling you with cum as he groans just as loudly as you had been.

"Fuck," he chuckles quietly, "Kendall is not going to like that."

"Kendall," You breath heavily, safely contained in Lukas' comforting grip, "Is not my Keeper."

Lukas delivers a chaste kiss on your cheek, his stubble grazing against the side of your face.

"I plan on killing them anyway." He says, simultaneously unaware and aware that he's drifting into pillowtalk.

"Every last one of them."

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

I personally think the wof mental health rep is a lot better than it seems at first glance.

I should say upfront that I'm not a professional, though one of my biggest interests is psychology and majority of the conditions I talk in this post I either have or have traits of (and I'll clarify which I don't).

Whiteout is the only canonical neurodivergent character as far as I know, having associative synesthesia, but many headcanoning her to be autistic. I haven't read the books in a long while, but from what I remember I can agree, though I'm not autistic (despite meeting criteria... long story) so I won't for sure say if I think her traits are enough for a diagnosis or not (again, haven't read the books recently), but everyone seems to think they are so I'll agree.

Hawthorn has psychotic symptoms, which I think is important to represent since people with psychosis (whether that be from being on the schizophrenia spectrum or some other reason) are very often put in a bad light. Hawthorn is too, to an extent, but that's more so due to the Breath of Evil and not due to his psychotic symptoms, or from what I can remember, at least. I don't think Hawthorn has a mental disorder like schizophrenia since symptoms of psychosis can be caused by isolation (I'm not actually 100% sure if this is true, this is just something my psychologist told me), but I think the representation is still important either way. I relate to him a lot due to his symptoms.

Darkstalker very clearly shows symptoms of NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder), I don't think you can even argue that (sorry, narcissism anon from a month or so ago). I myself fit the criteria for NPD, and I definitely see myself in him. I doubt he can be diagnosed since he is still a child, but his symptoms might be extreme enough to warrant one, I'm not sure (coming from a minor who's doctors referred them for a personality disorder screening themself). Of the nine (9) criteria for NPD, just off memory he fit basically all of them. I won't go into all of it but I will definitely mention his splitting, seeing how he goes from loving Clearsight to thinking he can kill her if she doesn't meet his expectations. He also has the aspect of how it develops too, that being trauma (I recall Arctic being abusive to him which is definitely enough to warrant trauma), and being spoiled as a child (this could be my brain making things up but I swear this happened, or at least he was overly praised or something). So yeah, fairly sure he would have been diagnosed with NPD if he didn't eat the strawberry.

Moonwatcher seems to have social and separation anxiety. I like this, since I am diagnosed with both and they are both very difficult to live with, and I like seeing another character having it that I can relate to in that way. She also has symptoms of AVPD (just from what I remember), but she's only like... twelve (12) so there's no way she could be diagnosed.

Anemone, while not having any mental disorders specifically, still had a rough mental health journey so I think it's important to bring up. She grew up with her mother, Queen Coral, who was a complete helicopter parent, and likely never met her Father, King Gill. She was praised and adorned all her life, so it makes sense that when she was eventually separated from Coral, she acted out what she thought she deserved. While I think Darkstalker has NPD, I can't say the same for Anemone, since she was so young and it's normal for young children to have narcissistic traits. When she met Darkstalker, they clicked well due to both being animi and having... less than positive thoughts on the dragons around them. Darkstalker ended up lovebombing her, and telling her to leave when she got mad at Moon. She lashed out at Turtle afterwards, before they reconciled later. I thought this would be important to mention.

Peril likely has a few personality disorders as well, the most likely ones in my opinion being BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) and DPD (Dependent Personality Disorder), which isn't surprising given her situation. She likely has tons of trauma so it's only natural for her to develop a traumagenic disorder. I say those in particular because of her rapidly changing thoughts and emotions and her over attachment to Clay, which I can definitely relate to given how I act with my DP (Dependent Person). I don't have BPD though I show traits (not sure if enough for a diagnosis or not) and I remember Peril showing traits too.

There's also a lot of dragons that probably have PTSD in some way, Fathom, Peril, and Jerboa III being the first ones that come to mind specifically.

I seriously think this is an important topic and I might make a video on it at some point. Like I said, I love psychology and I think it's interesting how it impacts characters from my favourite book series.

.

[teegeeteegee]

Physical Contact Headcanons for Mario, Luigi, Princess Peach, Princess Daisy

Well, here goes nothing. I’m posting headcanons for the first time. 😅 I’ve had these in my mind for a while and decided to write them out. As the title states, it’s about the physical contact (hugs, kisses, etc.) between the Mario brothers and Princesses Peach and Daisy.

Before I begin, I should warn that I am absolutely terrible when it comes to headcanons. They may not make sense despite my best efforts to explain them. 😅

Also, if my headcanon(s) are similar to some that other people already came up with, I assure you it is not intentional, and I apologize in advance.

With all of that out of the way, let’s-a go!

Hugging

Mario

Mario is a great hugger! He’s like a teddy bear who provides a combination of protection and comfort. With that said, he rarely initiates them unless he’s overly excited about something.

The only person he gives consistent hugs to is Luigi. Outside of that, he’ll hug the Toad children if they approach him or ask for one. He’ll rarely hug Peach unless after they overcome a perilous situation and even then, she is the one who hugs him first.

Luigi

Like Mario, Luigi is good at hugs. However, he has to be comfortable with the people first before they experience how warm they are. He’s less likely to give them out than Mario due to his more reserved temperament.

Mario is the only person who he’s comfortable hugging on his own.

One time, he tried to surprise Daisy with a hug from behind, only for her to judo flip him like Peach did to Mario in the movie. Since then, he’s shied away from hugging her and will only do so if she hugs him first.

Peach

Peach is a very generous hugger. Her hugs are tender, snug, and soothing, especially if she uses her healing magic. She loves hugging anything she can.

Of course, her best hugs are reserved for the people who she is the closest to. These consist of Mario, Luigi, Daisy, and Toadsworth.

Outside of them, she has an affinity for hugging cute things. Toad babies and children in particular are her biggest weakness. She has a hard time resisting them, especially if they’re brave enough to approach her first. Yoshi babies also evoke her hugging side.

She is especially fond of group hugs and doesn’t like to exclude anyone.

Daisy

Like her fellow princess, Daisy loves doling out hugs. Unlike her best friend, however, her hugs tend to be anything but tender. They can range from manageable to back-breaking or rib-crushing. She doesn’t mean to hug so hard, mind you; it’s just that she’s very affectionate to those she cares about the most.

Of course, her main victim is none other than Luigi. Let’s just say he keeps chiropractors in business from how frequently he visits them. The types of hugs she loves to give him outside of the normal are running, tackling, and surprise hugs from behind.

She also loves to hug Peach though she’s not as rough with her. Mario is another one she likes to hug on occasion; however, he’ll sometimes compete with her to see who hugs the hardest.

Another thing she has in common with Peach is that she adores children and wants to lovingly wrap her arms around them. Unfortunately, they tend to scatter, or their parents shield them from her due to her, ahem, "reputation".

As with Peach, she loves group hugs.

Kissing

Mario & Luigi

I’m putting these two together because they have similar approaches. It is highly unlikely to see either of them kiss the princesses first. Both are reticent to even think of such a thing due to their statuses. Although Mario has more experience with women, none of them were royalty and thus, he didn’t believe he was worthy enough to kiss a princess. Luigi, on the other hand, abolished the thought from his mind completely. If Mario wasn’t worthy enough, he figured he'd had the same odds as their worst enemies.

The only time they would initiate the kisses is if the princesses wanted them to. They standing under some mistletoe is one example of such a scenario.

Peach would send some subtle hints such as commenting on the mood or giving Mario permission if she sees him wanting to but is reluctant to do so. Think of Kristoff and Anna at the end of the first Frozen Movie. Even then, it would be a peck on the cheek at most.

Daisy would outright ask Luigi to kiss her or tell him through her body language, such as pointing to her cheeks or slightly puckering her lips. Despite the blatant hints, Luigi is loath to follow through due to Daisy playing tricks on him. For example, he would lean in to kiss her cheek, only for her to dip him and plant a big kiss anywhere on his face. As for the puckered lips, she would quickly peck him on the lips right when he was about to make contact. This made him blush profusely and fall on his rear end in surprise. He’s been cautious since.

Mario hasn’t tried to kiss Daisy, nor has Luigi attempted to kiss Peach on their own.

The only time they feel comfortable kissing the princesses is if they (the princesses) are upset over something. The brothers then gently kiss the princesses on their foreheads out of instinct in an attempt to soothe them since that’s what their mother did for them and their father for their mother when they were distraught.

Peach

No question about it, Peach is the most charitable kisser of the group. As much as she enjoys dishing out hugs, she slightly enjoys kissing more. Her pecks tend to be on the tender and warm side. She secretly loves to see the responses of those who are lucky enough to be blessed by her ample lips. Her kisses can also heal wounds or soothe aches if the situation calls for it.

The main recipient of said kisses is of course Mario. She thinks he has a kissable face and relishes his reactions to them.

She doesn’t have a preferred spot as to where she likes to kiss him, but the most targeted spots are his cheeks. She usually pecks him there after he rescues her or as a spot of affection. Other areas include the forehead and nose. The former is when he’s asleep or resting after an adventure. The latter is sometimes after rescuing her, if she’s in a playful mood, or if he hurts it in some way.

She also kisses Luigi from time to time. She almost always kisses him on his cheeks, and they are mostly for rescuing her, helping her out with something, giving her a gift, or if he’s despondent over something. These kisses are strictly platonic.

She is very fond of kissing children, especially Toad babies and Yoshis. She likes kissing the adult Yoshis as well, especially their noses.

Daisy

On the other hand, Daisy isn’t much of a kisser. Her preferred intimate contact is definitely hugging.

When it comes to Luigi, however, a whole army of Chargin’ Chucks and Shovas are needed to keep her lips away from him, and even that may not be enough.

She loves sneaking up on him from behind and surprising him with her pecks.

Her favorite spot is most certainly his nose. One of her favorite things to do is to tap Luigi on the shoulder and peck him on the nose as soon as he turns around, then giggle and grin in his face right after. The best part is that he falls for it every time!

Another thing she gets a kick out of regarding his nose is kissing it so firmly it fluctuates like a diving board after someone jumps from it.

Should Luigi ever be asleep in her presence, he can expect to have his face embellished with multiple orange kiss marks when he wakes up!

As for Mario, the only times she kisses him is when she picks him up and plants a loud stretching one on his cheek in good fun or in the middle of an argument. It usually ends with Mario having a tomato red face and him muttering something under his breath in Italian.

She sometimes pecks Peach on the cheek out of spontaneity or when she’s teasing her. Peach’s cheeks flush sometimes, and Daisy teases her by telling her how cute/pretty she is when she’s blushing.

Like Peach, she loves kissing children and babies. However, like her hugs, she can get carried away, causing everyone to be wary of her.

Other Kissing Trivia

The way the brothers respond to kisses from their beloved princess depends on where they kiss them. Mario and Luigi have similar reactions from them.

Cheek: at minimum slightly flushed cheeks. Sometimes their entire faces turn red, and they swoon. How much they swoon depends on the pressure of the kisses. They also flinch and widen their eyes if surprised.

Nose: their noses twitch, and their mustaches either stretch horizontally or curl upward at the ends. In addition, their faces redden at some parts, and their bodies stiffen. Sometimes they tumble on their backs and look dreamily at the sky. Their noses are the most sensitive and responsive parts besides their lips.

Forehead: slightly flushed faces and droopy eyes. They internally feel warm and giddy.

Lips: it would be miraculous if they were still on their feet if they’re not being held up by something. Their faints and collapses depend on the types of kisses and how firm they are. For example, a long passionate French kiss instantly knocks them out, whereas a quick peck would make their knees wobbly. The only exception to this is if they’re kissed while asleep. Then they instantly wake up with a jolt and flushed faces.

Speaking of sleep, although mentioned earlier Daisy loves to leave kiss prints on Luigi’s face while he’s dozing, Peach loves doing the same with Mario. The difference between the princesses is their approach. Peach loves to leave delicate patterns such as hearts, circles, and even mushrooms. Daisy, on the other hand, just goes feral and plants her lips wherever there’s exposed skin.

On the flip side, in the rare cases where the brothers kiss the princesses, the princesses usually respond with flushed faces and giggles. The latter is mostly from being tickled by their mustaches.

They gasp and slightly blush from surprise pecks, normally on their cheeks. In the extremely rare cases when the princesses are kissed on the lips, they respond with wide eyes, wholly flushed faces, and are rendered speechless.

Miscellaneous Physical Contact

Mario

Mario loves to pat people on their backs, fist bump, high five, or wrap his arm around their shoulders in support. He mostly does this with Luigi, but he also does it with some of the Toads and other allies.

He doesn’t do this at all with the princesses, especially Peach. The rare times he’ll initially touch Peach are if he’s carrying her (mostly when he flies with her wearing a power-up) or running with her hand from present dangers like escaping from dungeons or running from hordes of enemies. Beyond that, he’ll offer a hand if he wishes to have contact with her and leaves it up to Peach to decide if she accepts (and is secretly thrilled when she does).

Luigi

As before, Luigi is similar to Mario except even more shy about it. The only time he’s really comfortable is around small children and animals he’s comfortable around, such as Polterpup and small friendly ones.

The rare times he’ll make physical contact with Daisy are when there’s imminent danger or if she’s too stubborn to back down from an argument or powerful enemy that they can’t defeat at the time. Daisy gets taken aback at first since Luigi rarely takes charge like that; however, she secretly appreciates his more assertive side.

Peach

Peach is a very affectionate person when it comes to physical contact. Outside of hugs, she loves to pat her Toads on the head as well as pet Yoshis and other animals.

Other forms of physical contact include gently patting someone on the shoulder or back, holding hands, and inviting Toad children to sit on her lap.

With Mario, she loves interlocking hands and elbows with him. She is the one who initiates the contact and doesn’t mind doing so. However, she’ll hint when she wants him to make the first move. These hints include commenting on the weather, subtly brushing her arms and hands with his, and offering her hand like he does with her (although this one isn’t a hint at all)

She also loves to caress his face with one or both of her hands. For the latter, she does it before or after kissing him, mostly on the nose, 95% of the time.

She loves to tenderly stroke Mario’s mustache. Although Mario isn’t super fussy about it, she doesn’t want to mess it up too much.

Something that isn't as known about her is that she's an avid tickler! She knows both Mario and Luigi are ticklish, especially Luigi. Luigi is pretty much a goner the moment she touches him. For Mario, however, she has to sneak up on him since straightforward tickles don’t affect him as much.

Daisy

Daisy is a physically affectionate person much like her princess counterpart. Whereas Peach is warm and tender, however, Daisy is more aggressive and energetic. With that said, she never means to be malicious with the people she cares about.

Besides hugs, her favorite form of physical affection is patting people on the back. However, as with her other actions, she overdoes it at times, usually ending with the person staggering if not faceplanting outright. One would think Luigi is the main victim, but surprisingly it’s not him. It’s actually Mario who is mostly on the receiving end. With him, it’s deliberate because she gets a kick out of seeing Mario’s flustered reaction.

She also has a habit of wrapping her arm around people’s shoulders. People tend to be cautious when she does this because it usually means she is either up to something or wants a favor. These are also accompanied by suspicious grins, adding to the atmosphere. The primary victim of this is Peach. Daisy uses this tactic when she wants Peach to do something with or for her.

As for her green bean, outside of hugging him to death, she loves to hold hands with him and will drag him from place to place, especially if he takes too long to join her. She is also fond of carrying him bridal style when the opportunity arises.

Despite her hyper nature, she can be tender when she desires. Again, these are mostly reserved for Luigi, especially when he’s feeling down.

She absolutely adores Luigi’s nose! Besides kissing it, she likes petting, gently massaging, and honking it. For the last one, she’ll do it when she’s feeling playful or if she’s upset with him, though not as hard. In fact, she’ll be beside herself if she hurts it in some form. She’ll caress it and kiss it in an attempt to make him feel better. Her love for his nose stems from Luigi confiding in her about his insecurity over it after it was made fun of by a girl who he had a huge crush on in high school. Because of that, she does everything to let him know his nose is fine the way it is.

She also loves to run her fingers through Luigi’s mustache. Luigi, unlike Mario, is very finicky about his ‘stache and gets slightly exasperated when she messes it up. However, at the same time he secretly enjoys the attention she gives it.

Well, that’s about it for now. Should I think of some more, I’ll add them. I’ll also try to clean this up more to make it look the best it can. In the meantime, I would love to read some headcanons about these four regarding this subject or if anyone has anything to add to mine. ��

[ollie-monster]

In Gaza, a child is not really a child. Our eight-year-old son, Yazzan, has been talking about fetching his toys from the ruins of our house. He should be learning how to draw, how to play soccer, how to take a family photo. Instead, he is learning how to hide when bombs fall.

I don’t want to hug anyone, because I don’t want to believe that I am leaving them. I kiss my parents and shake hands with my siblings, as though I am only going on a short trip. What I am feeling is not guilt but a sense of unfairness. Why can I leave and they cannot? We are lucky that Mostafa was born in the U.S. Does it make them less human, less worthy of protection, that their children were not? I think about how, when we go, I may not be able to call them, or even find out whether they are alive or dead. Every step we take will take us away from them.

We are about to pass the checkpoint when a soldier starts to call out, seemingly at random. “The young man with the blue plastic bag and the yellow jacket, put everything down and come here.” ... They’re not going to pull me out of the line, I think. I am holding Mostafa and flashing his American passport. Then the soldier says, “The young man with the black backpack who is carrying a red-haired boy. Put the boy down and come my way.” He is talking to me.

The soldiers blindfold me and attach a numbered bracelet to one wrist. I wonder how Israelis would feel if they were known by a number. Then someone grabs the back of my neck and shoves me forward, as though we are sheep on our way to be slaughtered. I keep asking for someone to talk to, but no one responds. The earth is muddy and cold and strewn with rubble. I am pushed onto my knees, and then made to stand, and then ordered to kneel again. Soldiers keep asking in Arabic, “What’s your name? What’s your I.D. number?”

One by one, we are forced into a truck. Someone who is not moving lands on my lap. I fear that a soldier has thrown a corpse onto me, as a form of torture, but I am scared to speak. I whisper, “Are you alive?” “Yes, man,” the person says, and I sigh with relief. When the truck stops, we hear what sound like gunshots. I no longer feel my body. The soldiers give off a smell that reminds me of coffins. I find myself wishing that a heart attack would kill me.

Another man, maybe talking to himself, says quietly, “I need to be with my daughter and pregnant wife. Please.” My eyes fill with tears. I imagine Maram and our kids on the other side of the checkpoint. They don’t have blankets or even enough clothes. I can hear female soldiers, chatting and laughing. Suddenly, someone kicks me in the stomach. I fly back and hit the ground, breathless. I cry out in Arabic for my mother. I am forced back onto my knees. There is no time to feel scared. A boot kicks me in the nose and mouth. I feel that I am almost finished, but the nightmare is not over.

When we exit the truck and my name is called, I am temporarily given my I.D. card. I feel a prick of hope. Maybe they are going to release us. Inside a building, my blindfold is pulled off. A soldier is aiming an M-16 at my head. Another soldier, behind a computer, asks questions and takes a photo of me. Another numbered badge is fastened to my left arm. Then I see the doctor, who asks whether I suffer from chronic diseases or feel sick. He does not seem interested in my pain. Back at the detention center, blindfolded again, we kneel painfully for hours. I try to sleep. A man moans nearby; another is hopeful that he will get to go back to the doctor. Late in the evening, a soldier calls my name. The shawish leads me to the gate, and a jeep comes to take me away.

When I wake, a soldier says something in English that I cannot believe. “We are sorry about the mistake. You are going home.” “Are you serious?” Silence. “I will go back to Gaza and be with my family?” “Why wouldn’t I be serious?” Another voice chimes in: “Isn’t this the writer?” Back at the detention center, as I fall asleep, I think about the words “We are sorry about the mistake.” I wonder how many mistakes the Israeli Army has made, and whether they will say sorry to anyone else.

On Tuesday, about two days after I left the school, the man with the megaphone teaches us how to say good morning in Hebrew. “Boker Tov, Captain,” we say in unison. Some new detainees have arrived in an enclosure nearby, and the soldiers overseeing them seem to be having fun. They sing part of an Arabic children’s song, “Oh, my sheep!,” and order the detainees to say “Baa” in response.

After an hour, some soldiers approach. One has my I.D., and another drops a pair of slippers for me and tells me to walk. Then one of them says, “Release!” I am so overjoyed that I thank him. I think about my wife and children. I hope that my parents and siblings are alive. I spend about two hours at the place where I was interrogated, with the Hebrew music. I am given some food and water, but the soldiers never find my family’s passports. I climb into a jeep, surrounded by soldiers. After two hours, I can see around my blindfold that we are getting close to Gaza.

The soldiers get out, smoke, and return fully armed, wearing their vests and helmets. I am thinking about the man I recognized in line, and what he said about human shields. I am starting to wish that I could go back to the detention center when they give me my I.D. card. Standing against a wall, I tell the closest soldier that I am scared. “Do not feel scared. You will leave soon.” My handcuffs are cut, and the blindfold is removed. I see the place where I had to take my clothes off. When I see new detainees waiting there, sadness overwhelms me.

I take off my slippers and start to run. Passersby are staring, but I don’t care. Suddenly, I spot an old friend, Mahdi, who once was the goalkeeper on my soccer team. “Mahdi! I’m lost—help me.” “Mosab!” We hug each other. “Your wife and kids are at the school next to the college,” he says. “Just turn left and walk for about two hundred metres.” I cry as I run. Just when I start to worry that I have lost my way, I hear Yaffa’s voice. “Daddy!” She is the first piece of my puzzle. She seems healthy, and is eating an orange. When I ask where the rest of the family is, she takes my hand and pulls me as if I were a child.

I learn from Maram how lucky I was. She used my phone to inform friends around the world, who demanded my safe release. I think about the hundreds or thousands of Palestinians, many of them likely more talented than me, who were taken from the checkpoint. Their friends could not help them.

[daitranscripts]

Solas Conversation: Investigate

Tell Me About the Fade

Solas Masterpost

First time asking PC: What do you know about the Fade? Solas: A great deal, from my wanderings. There are few hard facts, but I can share what I have learned.

Solas: What would you like to know?

1 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: Tell me about the Breach. [2] +Solas slightly approves

Investigate: Tell me about the Veil. [3] +Solas slightly approves

Investigate: Tell me about demons. [4]

General: Goodbye. [5]

2 - Investigate: Tell me about the Breach. PC: I’d like to know more about the Breach. Solas: Simply put, it is a tear in the Veil between this world and the Fade, allowing spirits to enter the world physically. Small tears occur naturally when magic weakens the Veil or when spirits cluster at an area that has seen many deaths.

Solas (in Haven): But your mark allows you to exert some control over the Breach. That means it was created deliberately. [back to 1] Solas (In-Skyhold, pre-HLTA): But your Anchor, as Corypheus calls it, allows you some control over the Breach. That suggests it was deliberate. [back to 1] Solas (post-HLTA): But the Breach is artificial. The Anchor on your hand let you control it and even opened a small rift at Adamant. [back to 1]

3 - Investigate: Tell me about the Veil. PC: I’d like to know more about the Veil. Solas: Circle mages call it a barrier between this world and the Fade. But according to my studies in ancient elven lore, that is a vast oversimplification. Without it… Imagine if spirits entered freely, if the Fade was not a place one went but a state of nature like the wind.

Dialogue options:

General: That sounds strange. [6] -Solas slightly disapproves

General: That sounds marvelous. [7] +Solas slightly approves

General: That sounds dangerous. [8] -Solas disapproves

6 - General: That sounds strange. PC: I don’t know if I can imagine that. Solas: Try. Imagine if spirits were not a rarity but a part of our natural world like… a fast-flowing river. Yes, it can drown careless children, but it can also carry a merchant’s goods or grind a miller’s flour. That is what the world could be, if the Veil were not present. For better or worse. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 7 - General: That sounds marvelous. PC: It sounds like it would be wonderful. Solas: And dangerous, but… yes. A world where imagination defines reality, where spirits are as common as trees or grass. Instead, spirits are strange and fearful, and the Fade is a terrifying world touched only by mages and dreamers. I am glad that I am not alone in seeing the beauty of such a world, along with the obvious peril. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 8 - General: That sounds dangerous. PC: We’ve got enough trouble with demons already. Solas: But would they still be demons? Or would they be part of our natural environment like… a fast-flowing river? Yes, it can drown careless children, but it can also carry a merchant’s goods or grind a miller’s flour. That is what the world could be, if the Veil were not present. For better or worse. [back to 1]

4 - Investigate: Tell me about demons. PC: I’d like to know more about demons.

Solas (human mage PC): Your Circle says that demons hate the natural world and seek to bring their chaos and destruction to the living. Solas (Dalish PC): Your Dalish say that demons hate the natural world and seek to bring their chaos and destruction to the living. Solas (dwarf/Qunari/human non-mage PC): The Chantry says that demons hate the natural world and seek to bring their chaos and destruction to the living.

Solas: But such simplistic labels misconstrue their motivations and, in so doing, do all a great disservice. Spirits wish to join the living, and a demon is that wish gone wrong.

Dialogue options:

General: I don’t believe that. [9] -Solas slightly disapproves

General: Can we change that? [10] +Solas slightly approves

General: I don’t care. [11] -Solas disapproves

9 - General: I don’t believe that. PC: I doubt those things pouring out of the Breach wanted to join the living. Eat, maybe. ㅤㅤ ㅤ sided templars PC: And what about the demon I fought at the Seeker fortress? Solas (pre-HLTA): Of course demons are destructive. This world is illicit and unnatural for them. They fight to gain entrance, and when the rules of this world do not mirror theirs, they lash out. Tragic, but not evil. Solas (post-HLTA): The one being commanded by Corypheus? If a man set fire to your house, do you lay the blame on the torch he carried? [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ sided mages, pre-HLTA Solas: Of course demons are destructive. This world is illicit and unnatural for them. They fight to gain entrance, and when the rules of this world do not mirror theirs, they lash out. Tragic, but not evil. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ sided mages, post-HLTA PC: And what about the army of demons the Wardens were leading? Solas: As you say, they were being led, commanded, controlled. If a man set fire to your house, do you lay the blame on the torch he carried? [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 10 - General: Can we change that? PC: Is there a way to coexist? To live with them, if not in peace, at least without such active confrontation? Solas: Not in the world we know today. The Veil creates a barrier that makes true understanding most unlikely. But the question is a good one, and it matters that you thought to ask. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 11 - General: I don’t care. PC: It doesn’t matter why they attack us. Solas: Of course it does. The dog that bites you because it is rabid is not the dog that bites you because it is starving. You may kill either, but one is just a few scraps of meat away from being your faithful servant. [back to 1]

5 - General: Goodbye. PC: We’ll talk later. Solas: Goodbye.

[leggerefiore]

Joltiks delivering chocolate to Emmet: The Sequel. Now with a much shorter wait time because S/O sent the Joltiks to the younger twin while everyone is at home. They learned their lesson from last year and will not send the tiny spiders out for three days and nights this time around, brave and willing their arachnid children may be. (They will still get fed lots of batteries because cute babies)

cw: fluff, valentine's day fic,

pairing: Emmet/Reader

You sighed at the cute packaging of the chocolate. Some speciality store in Castelia had caught your eye with their cute, stylised offerings that set them apart from the generic boxes around the stores you had popped in. Notably, the cute image of a Joltik in a little red chequered apron with a chef hat was hard to say no to. The chocolates inside were themed around the little spiders, too. Even if the packaging was not as cute and distinct as it were, you knew the sugar glutton that Emmet would never dare reject such nice chocolates. The few you had sampled in the store proved that these were more than worth their off-putting price tag.

Plus, you had managed out a better plan this year than the catastrophe of the previous one. There shall not be poor Joltiks creeping desperately towards the station in search of their Subway Boss. No, this time you were sending them on their perilous quest to the other side of the apartment. You had bought little matching outfits to the mascot on the chocolate box as well. The group of Joltiks looked almost too cute to just send off, yet you must.

Giving the small, brave group their package, you sent them off from the bedroom to the living room, where Emmet was currently wrestling around with his Eelektross. The cluster of spiders crept away steadily with the delivery, both determined and quiet. You sat down on the bed and looked at the napping Galvantula with a sigh. She would not wear her costume, sadly.

Moments passed with little change. Silence besides the occasional Eelektross cry and chuckle from Emmet. You waited impatiently, foot tapping on the hardwood nervously.

Then, a gasp. No more wrestling. A coo from Emmet. You peered out from the bedroom.

Emmet knelt down before your brave delivery men, staring at their little costumes and offerings with bright eyes. He took the chocolate box away from them tentatively and cooed even more. The chocolate was put aside, much to your surprise, as he picked up the group to ogle at them. Their little costumes were simply too cute to him. Oh, how he had wished to think to dress them up more. A few kisses were laid upon the little sweeties' heads before he returned to the chocolate.

He opened the lid to find your card inside alongside the sweets. It was open and read over silently. His smile grew ever wider at the tender words you had written inside, expressing your joy about having been in this relationship for so long with him. Just as you expected him to finally go in for the chocolate, his eyes glanced at the door you were peeking out.

“Hi, darling,” he cooed out and crept closer, “Thank you verrrrry much for the gift! I hope you like yours, too.” Emmet opened the door and suddenly pulled you into a tight hug. He even dared spin you around before pressing a soft kiss upon your lips. “I am sad it will not be as cute as yours,” he sighed and nuzzled his nose against your own.

You could only wonder what he got for you in eager anticipation.

~

To your surprise, he had been deeply unsure as to what to get you. He had asked Elesa but felt unsure of her answer. Emmet was not one to give in, of course. He desperately searched all over for anything that he thought could make you happy.

You gasped at the gift. It was unexpectedly something that you had mentioned a few times in passing to him. Wrapping your arms around him, you, too, pulled him in for a tight hug and peppered his face with kisses. Your Emmy proved himself as the strangely attentive man he was once again. He felt giddy that he had impressed you and took on a smug expression.

Valentine's Day this year truly was a success.

[thebunnednun]

Whispers of the Heart Dracule Mihawk x Fm! Reader (Part 8)

Art by @xuchuan25

Summary:

You finally find the man that hid your 'half' brother so long ago. Only to find yourself in the unwanted advances of a Marine Captian. Making you beat his ass on base and by doing so, signing your death warrent, AGAIN! You already refused to become a warlord and sent your crew home so what was a wanted woman to do? Where were you to go? Mihawk can't just stand by and let his good friend take the fall, can he?

Notes:

TW: Ax Hang Morgan can't understand the word "No." So you stomp on his balls. We're a few chapters to the finish line!! Thank you to everyone for your support!! Also, I'ma lover of happy endings and cheesy crap so you better believe that this is chalk full.

________________Chapter 8: Perils of the Empress_________________

A bird circled overhead, its wings slicing through the clear blue sky before it swooped down to drop a letter into [Name]'s waiting hands. The paper was crisp, and the familiar, precise handwriting of Mihawk stood out sharply against the parchment. She eagerly tore open the envelope, her eyes scanning the contents.

"Captain, what does it say?" one of her crew members asked, curiosity piqued.

She began to read the letter in her mind, Mihawk's sarcastic tone almost palpable through the written words:

___________________

"[Name],

The man you seek is Admiral Garp. He’s currently stationed in Shells Town. Be wary of the Marines; they're not as incompetent as some might think. Also, other pirates frequent the area, and not all are as charming as I am.

Regards, Mihawk

P.S. Do try not to get caught." ___________________________

A soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she rolled her eyes. Folding the letter neatly, she tucked it into her coat pocket and turned to face her crew. "Set sail for Shells Town," she commanded, her voice steady and authoritative. "And remember, we need to lay low. I’ll go in alone to find Admiral Garp."

The crew responded with a chorus of affirmations, their loyalty evident in their eager expressions. As they worked to prepare the ship, [Name] donned her cloak, the hood casting a shadow over her face and masking her identity. She glanced back at her crew, giving them a reassuring nod before stepping off the ship and into the bustling town.

The streets of Shells Town were alive with activity, vendors calling out their wares, children playing in the streets, and Marines patrolling the area. She changed into regular clothing, opting for a simple dress that allowed her to blend in. Her mask remained, a constant reminder of her need for discretion.

Posing as a Marine's wife, she approached the entrance to the Marine base, her heart pounding in her chest. "Excuse me," she said, her voice demure, "I’m here to see my husband. He works here, but I seem to have forgotten where his office is."

The guards exchanged glances, suspicion evident in their eyes. One of them, a burly man with a stern expression, stepped forward and scrutinized her closely. "What's your husband's name? And why haven't we seen you around before?"

Thinking quickly, [Name] lowered her mask just enough to reveal a charming smile. "Oh, you know how it is with us Marine wives, always traveling and rarely staying put in one place," she said with a light, melodic laugh. "But I assure you, I’m very real. Perhaps I could bring you all some fresh baked cookies later for doing such a good job?"

The guards' suspicion wavered at her offer, the tension easing from their shoulders. They exchanged a few uncertain glances before finally nodding.

"Alright, ma'am, you can go in," one of them said, stepping aside. "But don't cause any trouble."

"Of course not," she replied sweetly, pulling her mask back up and stepping into the base. The interior was a maze of corridors, each one looking much like the last. Her eyes scanned each door for a sign of Admiral Garp's office, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she moved deeper into the building.

Just as she thought she had found the right door, a tall, imposing figure cast a shadow over her. It was Ax-Hand Morgan, his piercing eyes locking onto her with suspicion.

"Who are you?" he demanded, stepping closer, his metallic ax-hand gleaming ominously in the dim light.

Thinking quickly, [Name] ducked behind the door, trying to find an escape route. But Morgan followed, closing the door behind him with a loud thud that echoed through the corridor. Trapped, she felt her heart race as she weighed her options.

"What are you doing here?" Morgan's voice was cold and menacing, his eyes narrowing as he took another step closer. Desperation surged within her, and she knew she had to act fast. She adjusted her stance, ready to defend herself if necessary, her mind racing to find a way out of this precarious situation.

[Name] sighed, pulling back the hood of her cloak to reveal her face. Her eyes met Morgan's, a calm determination in her gaze. "I have business with Admiral Garp," she stated evenly, "and I got lost looking for him." Morgan's eyes narrowed further, disbelief etched on his face. "Do you expect me to believe that?" he growled, moving to reach for a Den Den Mushi to call for more guards.

Before Morgan could call for reinforcements, the Den Den Mushi on his desk crackled to life. A panicked voice came through, "We found a pirate ship and its crew nearby! They match the descriptions of the wanted posters!" Morgan's attention shifted momentarily to the communication, giving [Name] the opportunity she needed. She quickly grabbed her own Den Den Mushi from her cloak and contacted her crew.

"Captain, what's happening?" her first mate's voice came through, filled with worry. "You need to leave, now," [Name] said firmly, her voice steady. "They've found you and the ship. Get out of there immediately."

"But Captain—"

"No," she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You all have families. It was a mistake to come here. I love you all, and it's been an honor to sail with you. But now, you must go."

There was a pause on the other end, and then her first mate's voice, heavy with emotion, replied, "Should we call Buggy?"

"No," [Name] said quickly, glancing at Morgan who was still distracted. "Don't worry about me. We'll meet up in a few weeks. Just get to safety." Another pause, then a chorus of voices came through, all thanking her for being their captain and promising to follow her final order.

"Thank you," she whispered, her heart aching as she ended the call.

Morgan's focus returned to her, suspicion and anger clear in his expression. "What did you do?" he demanded.

"I made sure my crew is safe," she replied calmly, her eyes unwavering. "Now, can we get back to why I'm here? I need to see Admiral Garp."

Morgan's frustration was palpable, but he knew better than to underestimate the determined young woman standing before him.

Morgan's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized [Name]. A flash of recognition crossed his face as he locked onto her eyes. He reached for the old wanted poster from his desk, holding it up beside her face. "These eyes... You're the one from the poster, aren't you?"

[Name] glanced at the poster, then met Morgan's gaze without flinching. "I did take his body back," she admitted, her voice steady. "But I don't consider it stealing. I just wanted to give him a proper burial."

Morgan's lips curled into a sneer. "And you think you can just waltz in here and meet with Admiral Garp privately? Why would he want to see a pirate like you?" She set her jaw, refusing to divulge her reasons. "That's between me and the Admiral. Now, if you'll excuse me..." She turned to leave, reaching for the door, but Morgan moved swiftly, blocking her path.

"Not so fast," he growled, yanking her mask off. She slapped his hand away and jumped back, anger flashing in her eyes. Morgan's gaze roved over her face, a twisted admiration in his eyes. Ignoring his leering, [Name] slowly began to remove her cloak, her movements deliberate. "You really want to know why I need to see Garp?" she asked, her tone seductive as she played to his arrogance.

Her cloak fell away, revealing her outfit. A fitted, cropped jacket hugged her torso, with intricate embroidery running along the seams. Underneath, a sleeveless top exposed her midriff, paired with high-waisted pants that flared slightly at the bottom. Her belt, laden with various pouches and tools, held two machetes, their handles jutting out at her hips, ready for action.

Morgan's eyes widened as he took in her appearance. "Impressive," he murmured, stepping closer, his arrogance growing. "But I still don't believe you."

"You should," she replied, a dangerous edge to her voice. "I'm not here to play games." Morgan's sneer deepened. "Then why are you here?"

"That's for me to know," she said, her tone losing its seductive edge and turning serious. "And Garp is the only one who I will speak with."

"Why should I believe you?" he demanded, blocking her escape. "Believe what you want," she snapped, stepping forward defiantly. "But get out of my way." Morgan reached for her, but she was faster, her hand flying to the hilt of her machete. "Don't make me use this," she warned, her eyes flashing. He paused, clearly reconsidering his approach. "You're not leaving this room until I get some answers."

"Fine," she said, tightening her grip on the machete. "You want answers? Here's one. I'm not afraid of you, or anyone else in this building. And if you don't let me pass, you'll find out exactly why I'm wanted." Morgan's gaze flickered with uncertainty, but he held his ground. "You're not in control here." She smirked, her confidence unwavering. "That's where you're wrong. I'm always in control." With a swift motion, she drew her machete, the blade glinting in the light.

The tension in the room was palpable, both of them locked in a silent standoff.

Morgan blocked the door again, his demeanor turning darker. "A beautiful woman like you isn’t fit for a life at sea, although you do make it look good," he said, his eyes trailing up and down her form.

[Name] felt a wave of disgust but remained in control. She knew she had only a few minutes before Garp would round this hallway. She needed to act fast. "Oh, please," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Is that supposed to flatter me? Because it sounds more like a desperate plea."

Morgan’s expression tightened. "I have a better solution," he said, stepping closer. "If you agree to go out with me, I could take your posters down in town. Or better yet, if you agree to become mine, I'll declare you dead."

She laughed, a short, sharp sound. "Wow, Morgan. You really know how to make a girl swoon," she said sarcastically. "But I don’t care about your offers. I’m leaving with or without your permission."

Morgan’s eyes narrowed, a predatory gleam in them. "You’re really something," he said, advancing on her. "It’s a wonder how you’ve evaded the Marines for so long."

She met his gaze with cold disdain. "Maybe it’s because the Marines aren’t as smart as they think they are."

Morgan’s face contorted in anger, but then he chuckled. "I like a little spitfire in my life," he said, reaching out to touch her cheek. [Name] slapped his hand away and stepped back. "Don’t touch me unless you want to get burned."

His fury exploded, and he lunged at her. [Name] moved swiftly, her training kicking in. She punched him in the face, feeling the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking under her knuckles. She followed up with another punch, then kicked him hard, sending him sprawling.

Outside the door, the commotion attracted the attention of other Marines. They approached cautiously, only for the door to explode open with Morgan flying through it. He crashed against the opposite wall, sliding down in a heap. They ran towards their boss, confused, and peered at the now-broken door.

[Name] stepped into the doorway, holding Morgan’s prosthetic arm. She looked at the Marines, their faces a mix of shock and confusion, and smiled. "Anyone else want to play hero?" she taunted. The young Marines shook their heads, some backing away, their fear palpable.

She took a step forward, her eyes scanning the crowd. "Okay, now that that's over, would someone mind getting me to the yard, please?" she said, her tone cheerful and polite.

With cautious glances at each other, the Marines parted, giving her a clear path. She hoisted Morgan up and dragged him out to the yard. The sun was high in the sky, casting harsh shadows on the ground. The Marines followed at a distance, whispering among themselves. [Name] tied Morgan up, securing him tightly with rope, and spanked him with his own prosthetic arm in front of his soldiers. Once she felt satisfied, she threw the ax down at his feet. Blood oozed from his wounds, staining the ground beneath him.

"This is what happens when you allow yourself to become corrupt," she announced loudly, ensuring everyone could hear. Her voice was clear and authoritative, carrying the weight of her conviction. "Remember, the Marines are supposed to protect, not prey on the innocent."

She stood over him, her eyes blazing with anger and determination. "I’m looking for Admiral Garp. Point me in his direction, and I’ll be on my way."

The yard fell silent, the tension thick in the air. The Marines looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Then, a voice broke through the silence.

"Right here, lassie," said Admiral Garp, his voice carrying a mixture of amusement and authority.

[Name] turned to see the younger cadets had parted to reveal Garp standing with Bogard by his side in the crowd. Garp’s eyes twinkled with a hint of a smile. "Morgan, how’s it hanging up there?" he asked with a grin.

Garp walked over to [Name], offering her his elbow. "Let’s take a walk," he said, his tone kind but firm. She accepted his arm, and they began to walk away from the yard.

As they walked, Garp glanced at her. "You’ve certainly made an impression," he said with a chuckle.

[Name] nodded, her mind still buzzing from the encounter. "I didn’t have much choice," she replied. "But I need your help, Admiral."

Garp’s expression turned serious. "I figured as much. Let’s find a place to talk."

[Name] nodded, her mind still buzzing from the encounter. "I didn’t have much choice," she replied. "But I need your help, Admiral."

Garp’s expression turned serious. "I figured as much. Let’s find a place to talk."

A voice called out from the crowd, "Right here, lassie," before turning to see Garp and Bogard. He looked at Morgan, who was barely conscious. "How's he doing up there?" Garp asked with a bark of laughter.

Garp approached her, offering his elbow. "Shall we?"

[Name] nodded, taking his elbow as he led her away from the yard. "Bogard, take care of the situation," Garp ordered over his shoulder.

As they walked, [Name] looked up at Garp. "So, Admiral, how’s your morning been?"

Garp chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Exactly as described," he said.

[Name] furrowed her brow, confused. "Described? By whom?"

Garp led her to a heavy wooden door, still chuckling. "A little birdie spoke fondly of you," he said, opening the door.

Realization dawned on [Name], and she rolled her eyes. "Mihawk! More like a big, nosy bird," she muttered.

Garp’s laughter grew louder as he ushered her into a dimly lit office. "He’s got a sharp eye, that one."

Inside, the office was filled with shelves of books and nautical charts, with a large desk dominating the center. Garp gestured to the chair behind the desk. "Please, take a seat."

[Name] shook her head, starting to refuse politely. "I just retired my crew, Admiral. It doesn’t feel right."

Garp’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Retired your crew? What do you mean?"

She sighed, leaning against the desk instead. "I didn’t want Morgan to persecute them. I’m not a liar, so I ‘temporarily’ laid them off before engaging in combat."

Garp’s expression softened, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "I see. I apologize for Morgan’s behavior. I’ll see to it that he’s severely punished. But it looks like you did a good job handling him yourself."

[Name] chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Thank you, Admiral. But I have to ask—why haven’t you arrested me? Why did you want to meet with me?"

Garp insisted again, his tone gentle but firm. "Please, take the seat behind the desk."

Reluctantly, she complied, settling into the chair. Garp sat opposite her, his expression turning serious. "I had a relationship with Gold Roger and Rouge. They were good people, despite everything." As you begin to tell him the story of your upbringing Garp listens with interest. He leaned back, his gaze distant before pausing, studying her closely. "I remember you from the day of the execution."

"I was hoping it was you."

[Name] nodded slowly. "Yes. And I think you might be the only Marine I can trust."

Garp smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "Thank you, that means a lot." His eyes offer you a warmth that rises in your chest and settles pleasantly in your heart.

"I took Ace away to be raised by some trusted friends. He should be almost twenty now."

[Name] leaned forward, her eyes intense. "I need to find him, Admiral. I made a promise to Roger and Rouge, and I won't break it."

Garp nodded, his eyes softening. "I understand." He shifted upright in his seat before continuing. "Ace is currently in Alabasta. I’ll give you my blessing to find him, but remember to continue pursuing the rest of your dreams."

Garp’s expression turned somber. "There’s one more thing. Due to what happened today, I can’t keep everything under wraps. Taking Roger’s body and assaulting a Marine captain will only increase your bounty."

[Name] laughed, a fearless glint in her eyes. "I don’t fear the World Government, Garp."

He shook his head, a mixture of admiration and concern in his eyes. "You’re something else. Come here."

He opened his arms, and [Name] stood from the chair to run around the desk before she stepped into his embrace. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and she felt a warmth spread through her as he hugged her tightly.

"Thank you for being a bright light in this world," Garp said softly. It felt like hugging the worlds buffest grandpa and she almost giggled out loud.

She smiled and pulled back. "Thank you, Admiral."

Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps filled the hallway. The Marine guards were coming to arrest her. She straightened, giving Garp a nod before walking out of the office.

As she passed through the yard, she saw Morgan still tied up, glaring at her with a mix of rage and humiliation. [Name] couldn’t help but smile, a sense of satisfaction warming her from the inside. She walked past him waving and smiling before finding her way out of the base, her steps light and purposeful.

Once outside, she realized she had no boat to get to Alabasta. She looked around the bustling port town, pondering if she could find passage with a fisherman. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice someone approaching until they were right beside her.

[Name] stepped out of the Marine base, her mind racing with thoughts of what had just transpired. As she pondered her next move, a familiar voice called out to her.

"Looking for a ride, Empress?"

S[Name] stepped out of the Marine base, her thoughts a whirlwind of the morning's events. As she pondered her next move, a familiar, low voice called out to her, cutting through her reverie.

"Looking for a ride, Captain?"

She turned to see Mihawk leaning casually against a wall, his piercing golden eyes watching her intently. His usual stoic demeanor was softened by a hint of a smile that made her heart skip a beat. He pushed off the wall and walked toward her, his gaze never leaving her face.

"Care to join me for some coffee and pie?" he asked, knowing she didn’t drink alcohol.

A mix of relief and curiosity washed over her as she nodded. "Sure, why not?"

They walked to a small café nearby, the atmosphere bustling with people going about their day. Mihawk ordered coffee and pie for both of them, his presence commanding yet surprisingly comforting. Once they were seated, [Name] began recounting the events of the morning, her voice a blend of frustration and amusement.

"And then I just walked out of there," she concluded, taking a sip of her coffee. The rich aroma and warmth provided a brief respite from the chaos of her thoughts.

Mihawk raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Oh no, really?" he teased, his tone dripping with mock concern.

She kicked him under the table, a playful glint in her eyes. He sent her a soft, amused smirk in return, the brief contact sending a jolt of warmth through her.

"You need to be more careful," he gently chided, his voice low and earnest.

"I know," she admitted, a bit of frustration seeping into her voice. "But I’ve been through worse."

"Are you okay?" he asked, his tone sincere, his golden eyes searching hers for any sign of distress.

She sighed, feeling the weight of her recent decisions pressing down on her. "I’m tired, Mihawk. Tired of the way the world is, how disgusting and cruel everything is. The world is going to shit."

Mihawk took a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving her face. "Are you going to keep your crew temporarily laid off?"

She nodded, the burden of leadership heavy on her shoulders. "I love adventuring, but I don’t want them to get hurt in this mess. But I also don’t want to go alone."

He leaned back in his chair, studying her intently. "What’s the point of finding Ace?"

"I want to make sure there’s good in him and take him with me on adventures," she replied, her eyes shining with determination. "Buggy and Shanks will always be my brothers, and Ace will either be my son or my brother."

Mihawk's expression softened, a rare glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes. "Do you still want a family one day?"

She smiled wistfully, her heart aching with the weight of her dreams. "Buggy and Shanks will always be my brothers, and Ace... he’ll be part of my family. But as for a traditional family, I don’t know. The world is too chaotic right now."

He looked at her thoughtfully, his gaze intense. "And where do I fit in all this?"

She met his gaze, her eyes warm and sincere. "You’re my best friend."

There was a pause, the air between them charged with unspoken emotions. Mihawk considered her words carefully. "Where are you going to live?"

She shrugged, feeling the uncertainty of her future pressing in. "I’ll convert my ship or stash it somewhere. I can’t leave it on my home island and sail the Grand Line in a little boat back here."

Mihawk placed his hand over hers, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down her spine. He took his hat off so she would look into his eyes. "Would you stay with me until you decide what you want to do?"

She began to politely decline, her voice soft. "I couldn’t impose—"

Mihawk interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. "You could never impose on my life."

She leaned back, her hand still in his, and gave him a slight smile, her heart racing. "What does the young warlord want in exchange?"

Mihawk’s gaze softened as he looked her over, his mind filled with unspoken thoughts. "Whatever the young empress wants."

She thought for a moment, weighing her options, her heart pounding in her chest. "How about I run your household when you’re away?"

Mihawk nodded in agreement, a rare smile gracing his lips. "Deal." They shook their joined hands together to seal the agreement. Mihawk was silent for a moment, studying her soft, smaller hand in his rough and larger palm. His eyes met hers with an expression she hadn't learned to read yet.

"Something wrong?" she asked, her voice softer now, more intimate.

Mihawk used his foot to pull her chair closer to his, the distance between them shrinking, the air thick with unspoken tension. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it gently. "I wanted to do that properly," he said, his voice low and sincere.

[Name]'s cheeks and ears flushed all the way to her nose, the warmth spreading across her face as she tried to keep her cool. "Cheeky ass Robin," she muttered, but the teasing edge in her voice was softened by the tenderness of the moment.

She reached out with her free hand and pinched his whiskered cheek, her touch light but playful, trying to mask the fluttering in her chest. Despite her efforts to maintain composure, she didn’t pull her hand away, keeping their hands joined together. His neck was turning a soft pink color that reached just under his defined jaw line.

Mihawk's sly smirk grew, his eyes never leaving hers. "Is that all you’ve got?" he teased, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something deeper.

"You wanna find out?~" she shot back, her voice steadier now, though the blush remained on her cheeks. Her fingers intertwined with his, a silent acknowledgment of the connection between them.

The café around them seemed to fade away, the bustling noise of the world outside reduced to a distant hum. It was as if they were in their own bubble, the rest of the world forgotten. Mihawk’s thumb brushed gently over the back of her hand, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Why do you trust me?" she asked suddenly, the question hanging in the air between them.

Mihawk’s expression softened further, a rare vulnerability showing in his eyes. "Because I see in you what I’ve longed to see in others: strength, integrity, and a heart that refuses to be hardened by this world."

She looked down for a moment, processing his words, before meeting his gaze again. "I’ve seen the worst of what this world can offer," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I’ve also seen the best, and I want to believe that there’s more good out there."

"There might be," Mihawk said firmly, his grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly. "You’re proof of that."

For a moment, they simply sat there, holding each other's gaze, the intensity of the connection between them almost overwhelming. Then Mihawk’s lips curved into a softer, more genuine smile. "Stay with me," he repeated, his voice gentle yet insistent.

She took a deep breath, the weight of her decisions pressing down on her, but in that moment, the certainty in Mihawk’s eyes gave her strength. "Alright," she agreed softly. "But only if you promise not to make that stuffed bird face too much."

"Only if you continue to be yourself in my presence," Mihawk replied, his tone is serious yet filled with a warmth that made her heart skip a beat.

She smiled, a mix of relief and anticipation flooding through her. "Deal," she said, echoing their earlier words.

They sat there for a few more moments, their hands still joined, before Mihawk finally called over the waiter to pay the tab. "Where are we going?" she asked as they stood up.

"To find your little one," Mihawk replied, for once his eyes were gentle with determination.

As they made their way to the docks to catch up with her crew, she reached up and stole his hat, placing it on her head with a mischievous grin. Mihawk chuckled, shaking his head as they walked side by side, ready to face whatever lay ahead together.

__________________________________________________________

Meeting Ace for the first time was a mix of emotions for [Name]. She was both nervous and excited as she stood before the young man who bore such a striking resemblance to his mother, Rouge. When she told Ace about his birth parents, her voice was gentle and filled with compassion. She explained how he looked like his mother sometimes, especially in his eyes and his smile.

Ace listened intently, his expression a blend of curiosity and skepticism. The revelation about his father, Gol D. Roger, was met with visible resentment. Ace struggled with the knowledge that his father was the Pirate King, a man he felt he could never live up to. He had spent much of his life trying to carve out his own identity, separate from the legacy of a father he barely knew but felt a heavy burden from.

In an attempt to cope, Ace introduced [Name] to his brothers, Sabo and Luffy. Sabo, with his calm demeanor and steadfast loyalty, and Luffy, with his boundless energy and unwavering optimism, both welcomed [Name] with open arms. The bond between the ASL brothers was clear, and [Name] felt an instant connection with them, her nurturing nature coming to the forefront.

When the rest of the Straw Hat crew met [Name], there was a mix of surprise and admiration. Zoro, in particular, recognized Mihawk immediately. He mentioned how [Name] had left once she heard about the world government's plan to execute Ace. She had been willing to exchange herself for him, a selfless act that earned the respect of everyone present.

The plan to fake Ace's and Whitebeard's deaths was a carefully orchestrated operation involving Shanks and Buggy. [Name] explained how they had managed to pull it off, with Shanks and Buggy playing crucial roles in the deception. The world believed that Ace and Whitebeard had perished, allowing them to live under the radar. This revelation explained Ace's presence in the bar later, alive and well.

[Name] and Ace hung out often, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. She enjoyed big-sistering and mothering the ASL brothers, finding joy in their antics and their unwavering loyalty to one another. When Shanks adopted Uta, [Name] was overjoyed. She treated Uta with the same love and care she showed the ASL brothers. Despite not telling Buggy initially, he didn't mind and came to love their daughter deeply.

The happiness [Name] felt in these moments was a testament to the family she had built around her, a patchwork of pirates, outcasts, and misfits who had come together to support one another. It was a reminder that even in a world as chaotic and cruel as theirs, there was still room for love.

The next two years with Mihawk were filled with unexpected warmth and joy. [Name] and Mihawk quickly fell into a rhythm that made it hard to remember how they had ever lived without each other. Their days were a blend of training, adventure, and quiet moments that became the foundation of their bond.

The arrival of Perona brought a new dynamic to their lives. Following the death of her father, Perona was lost and grieving. [Name] took it upon herself to comfort the young girl, offering her a place to stay and a shoulder to cry on. Perona, initially wary and prickly, gradually softened under [Name]’s gentle care. She grew to love the time she spent with [Name] and Mihawk, finding a new family in the unlikely pair.

The two years with [Name] were a period of transformation for Mihawk. She taught him to embrace the warmth of companionship, to find joy in the little things, and to open his heart to the possibility of love. As they navigated the challenges and triumphs together, Mihawk realized that his life was infinitely better with [Name] in it. And with each passing day, the desire to make her his forever grew stronger, filling his heart with a hope and happiness he had never known before.

Mihawk, who had always valued his personal space, found it increasingly invaded. Yet, to his surprise, he didn't mind when it was [Name] doing the invading. She brought a brightness to his otherwise bleak and solitary life, a light that he found himself craving more and more. Her laughter echoed through the halls of his castle, her presence a constant source of comfort and joy.

It wasn't just her physical beauty that captivated Mihawk, though he did find her lovely in every sense of the word. It was the beauty of her soul, her kindness, her strength, and her unwavering spirit that truly enchanted him. She had a way of seeing the good in everything and everyone, a quality that made Mihawk's world seem a little less dark.

Many nights, Mihawk would lie awake, his thoughts consumed by [Name]. He wondered what it would be like to ask her to stay forever, to make their arrangement permanent. The idea of a life without her now seemed unbearable. She had become an integral part of his existence, and the thought of losing her was something he couldn't entertain.

Mihawk often found himself falling asleep to the sound of her breathing beside him, dreaming of a future where they could be together always. He imagined the conversations they would have, the adventures they would share, and the love that would continue to grow between them. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that [Name] was not just a passing presence in his life, but a permanent one.

______________________________________________________________

That brings us to the present story now!

CHapter 6

Chapter 7

Make sure you check out the a03 account by the same name. Everything I have posted here is there in chronological order. I also have other one piece fanfics posted in the masterlist! Give it a read if you please!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[kyberblade]

Bring You Back (Din x Reader) - Back To You Halloween AU

A/N: You all can blame @fordo-kixed-rex for this. She asked me, “What would happen if there was an AU where the reader in BTY went Darkside?” And I said how dare you here’s what would happen and it went from there. I’ve been sitting on this for months. It’s been torture. The name is based off of a song that just clicked for it, Bring You Back by Gold Brother, LIIV and if you want extra emotional damage, put it on repeat while you read. I am not advising this for health and safety reasons. I’m not to be held responsible for any turmoil this may cause. You do so at your own peril.

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Summary: The Darkside is always a temptation, even at the best of times…. What would happen if you ended up slipping further and further down a dark path? ….A path they couldn’t follow?

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. I know. I’m confusing. Welcome to my brain. Part of the Back To You Universe, so you’ll be kinda confused if you read it on its own, bc spoilers, but it can be read as a stand alone if you want. (Idk where exactly it takes place, but I know it’s after Part 19, sometime before or during TBoBF timeline that will be coming up in the sequel Close To Home.) Mando’a. Arguing. Mentions of saga typical violence. (See how frustratingly vague I was there?) It ends on a brighter note, don’t worry. It’s not all gloom and doom. I couldn’t do that to them. ……or could I? 😈

Word count: 2,326 (I know. What even is this drivel?)

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for the idea and seeing this through from start to finish. And @littlemisspascal and @what-the-heckin-heck for flailing on this with me as it developed. I really appreciate you guys. You make me smile a lot. 😁

Also, stay tuned at the end for some kick ass art by @fordo-kixed-rex. 👀 (You’re not prepared. I’m telling you now. Buckle up, children.)

Xxx

Din POV

It had been little things, at first. Just small things he’d normally not think twice about, but they started to make him take a closer look. 

The way you’d look at an enemy.

At him.

His son.

It was icy, glazed over, and distant, yet fiery and ruthless all at the same time. It painted those under its gaze in shades of fear. 

Of disdain.

With something close to death.

Din hated that last thought, but he’d been around enough of that in his life to know what it looked like. He knew death intimately. It was a close acquaintance. He’d brushed up against it time and time again, and each time it would kiss his cheek with a promised, soon, as he whispered back, not today.

He wouldn’t pretend to know the workings of the Force. It was still a mystery to him. But he knew you.

And this wasn’t it.

This was something else.

You were shadows. Shadows of what you were. Of yourself. A shell. Something wasn’t right. But like always, Din felt like he was looking at a sun when he’d stare at you for too long, so he could never look long enough to tell exactly what was off. He’d only get lingering impressions, spotted vision that left him open and vulnerable.

A rattled crate here. A broken box there.

A common thief just after a few credits left clutching their throat as the life was choked out of them by an unseen hand; their wide eyes peering over your shoulder, pleading with him through his visor for just an ounce of mercy, an ounce of forgiveness from this…. Hell they had found themselves in.

But what could he do?

It had been made clear time and time again you didn’t listen when he told you what to do. In fact, you came to resent it. I am not a tooka, you would say, he remembered fondly, smiling down at the painting in his hands.

He’d bought it for you once upon a time. A token. A promise. Though unspoken, it was his vow at the time to always make it back to you. Then it had been used as a threat against him, against you, that had propelled this whole adventure into motion. Until….

Now….

Now he looked at the painting that once symbolized home, a dream, and he saw…. A void. Nothing.

He sighed.

If this was the path you truly chose, then he had to choose his own. For the good of the child. Himself. And for you.

He’d confront you somewhere private. Some backwater planet. You’d always wanted to see somewhere green…. He just wished he’d gotten around to it sooner. Maybe then…. Maybe then you’d be happy about this visit, instead of what he expected, which was anger at him.

But he couldn’t keep waiting.

Couldn’t keep putting it off.

Din turned toward the ramp with another sigh. He knew this would break your heart.

He knew because his was already breaking.

Xxx

Normal POV

You looked around at the towering trees, smiling. Off in the distance between mighty boughs, a flicker of light…. Then another…. And another…. “Fireflies!” Despite your voice going up several octaves in excitement, you kept it hushed, hoping to not scare off the insects. But it turned out you didn’t need to worry about your voice, because as soon as you started toward them, they scattered, despite being a whole ships distance away from you.

Cocking your head, you tried to move towards another batch, but they too suddenly disappeared, scattering like the sparks of a dying fire.

Your brows narrowed in confusion as you came to a stop. They’d always swarmed to you, swirling around you in a cloud of light and energy, never had they run from you.

“That’s weird.”

“Maybe they sense it, too.”

You whirled around at Din’s low modulated voice. Once again he’d been able to sneak up on you, not a single bootfall down the ramp giving him away.

Smiling bemusedly at him, you settled your weight easily, head tipping back in question. “What do you mean?” You asked after a moment, turning to give him your full attention.

“Your powers, mesh’la. They’ve changed you.” His voice was low, pained. He stayed near the bottom of the ramp, his weight shifting slightly before he planted his feet and stood resolute, a sigh shrugging his shoulders gently before he went on. “At first I thought that was just the Jedi way, what do I know?” You chuckled softly. “But things have gotten worse. You’re…. You’re different.”

You scoffed, arms coming across your chest as your hip cocked out to the side, head tilting slightly with a sarcastic smirk. “You’re right. What do you know?” The words practically sneered from your lips, and you regretted them the moment they spilled, but you didn’t make a move to take them back.

It was like something had taken over your body, your motions…. Nothing felt entirely like your own, but it also felt so right down to your very bones. It made you shudder slightly at the contradiction warring inside your mind. 

Ignoring your slight, Din went on, his weight shifted to one leg. “Fine. Explain it to me.”

Arms going wide, you began to gesture as you spoke, voice raising with each word. “I’m doing this to protect the two of you, Din! I was useless before! Now I’m-“

“Now you’re what?”

“Strong.” Your brow furrowed as you stared up at his visor bravely. Holding his gaze, you never once wavered under its unforgiving stare. “Now I can help.”

“Really?” Din nearly chuckled, gesturing vaguely back toward the ship. “Because Grogu is so scared of you,” he dropped his arm, leaning in closer to you, his voice lowered, “he won’t leave the ship.”

“That’s not-“ you turned around in a circle and realized the kid wasn’t there. “Where is he, Din? You’re hiding him aren’t you? To prove a point.” Looking around once again, you let out an emotionless chuckle. “You stashed him in the bunk, didn’t you?” You started up the ramp. “I told you not to-“

“Don’t.”

You stopped in your tracks, staring blankly ahead toward the opening of the Crest, not really seeing anything in front of you but the white hot anger that began to brew just under your skin. “Excuse me?” If your words were any quieter, you’d not have heard them yourself. Turning to him, you arched a brow.

He stared at you in silence for only a moment before he spoke in a soft, but firm, voice. “Until you sort this out, don’t go back on the ship.”

With a scoff in disbelief, you shifted your weight to your other hip, one hand coming to rest there, and rolled your eyes. “It’s my home, Din.” You chuckled again, your tone still dry and mirthless. “What are you talking about?”

He walked past you up the ramp, turning once he was at the top and hesitantly lifting his hand onto the lever. “Until you sort this out, until you get back to…. You…. It’s not.” His visor fixed squarely on you, Din’s fingers rolled in a procession of indecision along the spine of the metal gripped tightly in his hand, his gloves creaking with the effort in the silence. You stared right back. Met him ounce for ounce. Until…. He pulled down and closed the ramp.

Stumbling backwards as the ship lifted a few feet off the ground, the ramp beginning to close, you fell to the ground with a thump , landing flat on your back. The wind knocked out of you as you stared up at the shrinking form of the Crest, an anger you’d never felt before consumed you, and you reached out one hand, crying out in anguish as you held the ship firmly in place. 

Whether it was a cry of pain, emotional or physical, fear, maybe even frustration, you didn’t know. All you knew was you couldn’t let them leave, and whatever it was boiled up and out of your throat as you watched the ship struggle against your hold. The metal moaned and groaned against your pull, the trees surrounding it bowing and bending in the wind from the engines. Limbs began to catch fire from the flames as Din hit the accelerators to try and break free from the phantom grip, but it was no use. 

Somehow you made it to your feet, one hand extended to keep the ship held still, tree limbs doused in flames falling to the forest floor with loud thuds all around you. With your other hand, you reached for your saber, not really sure why, but suddenly it was in your hand and ignited as you made your way toward the viewport of the ship.

Stalking around the corner, you stopped short when you saw your reflection in the transparisteel - your eyes had gone yellow and your saber - it had started to bleed. Red streaks were oozing down from the tip, tainting the once brilliant purple glow of balance with the bright red of hate. 

Blinking rapidly and shaking your head as you released the ship, you disengaged the blade and threw it to the ground, staring at it as if it had bit you while Din brought the ship back down with a thunk. 

The blaze of the fallen branches painted the reflective hull of the Crest in an eerie glow, shadows dancing all around as you curled in on yourself, staring at your saber where it had landed on the forest floor.

Din lowered the ramp and stomped down to you, getting in your face, but didn’t touch you. A deep enough breath would be all it would take to close the distance. You had to crane your neck back to hold the gaze of his visor, your face about to crumble under its weight this time. It’s the first time he’s seen you flinch in a long while. Looking at your reflection in his visor, you see your eyes are back to normal, but that settled next to nothing in your gut. “Let us go, mesh’la.”

“No. I won’t.” Then quieter. “I can’t.”

Din sighed, and you almost smiled at the borderline normal response from the Mandalorian. “Why not?”

Eyes fluttering shut, you willed yourself not to cry. “Because without the two of you, I’ll completely break. And when that happens….. when that happens, you’ll never get me back.” Making your way the few steps to the bottom of the ramp, you sat on it, still looking up at your warped reflection in his visor. It was fitting. Your eyes may be back to normal, but your face…. Your face looked twisted and broken. Exactly how you felt. “I’ll never get back to you.”

Xxx

Shooting up in the small confines of the bunk space of the Crest, you took a sharp breath. Eyes darting all over, familiar blinking lights winking at you in greeting, the thunk under the cargo hold saying hello, and the soft snores of Grogu sawing steadily away in the background….

You jumped as strong, warm arms wound around your waist, the comforting press of a familiar chest leaning into your spine, the prickle of facial hair tickled your shoulder where it softly came to rest as gentle breaths puffed against your cheek….

“Mesh’la….?” A deep voice hummed in question.

A voice you’d know anywhere.

Vocoder or not.

“Sorry,” you breathed. “Bad dream.” Huffing out a laugh, you shook your head gently. “Bad dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He sounded like he was already halfway back asleep.

Turning your head to look at his profile in the low light of the bunk, you smiled softly as your eyes flicked over his face. “No, cyare.” Reaching a hand up to cup his cheek, you pulled him into you for a soft kiss. “Thank you. I’ll be fine. Nuhoy.” (“Beloved.”) (“Sleep.”)

As he pulled you back down toward the bedroll with him, your face melted into something a bit more contemplative.

It hadn’t been just a dream.

It had been a warning.

Slipping from the bunk once Din’s breaths had evened out, you walked over to where your belt hung by the fresher. Taking the saber from the belt, you glanced over to the open bunk, your expression tight, and closed the door with a wave of your hand.

Dismantling it down to the kyber inside, you breathed a sigh of relief when the crystal winked at you in the low light, unblemished. It’s purple hue completely unmarred from the ugly red it’d had in your dream.

After you reassembled the hilt, you ignited the blade and relaxed your shoulders further when the cargo hold was illuminated in the soft purple glow.

You stared at the blade for a moment, getting lost in the sea of silence hyperspace surrounded you with.

Careful.

Careful. 

Careful.

Be mindful, little one.

I sense much fear in you….

“Not right now, kyber blade,” you mumbled to yourself as you addressed the saber. “Now it’s time for sleep. Not time for voices.” Disengaging the blade, you clipped it back to your belt before making your way back into the bunk. “I couldn’t get a blue crystal. Or green. No. I had to get a wise ass purple one. The universe is testing me. Literally.”

Luke had told you to be careful, as well.

Maybe you needed to listen.

But this was a problem for the morning.

For now, you needed to do nothing but settle into the arms of your Mandalorian and rest.

But come morning…. Come morning, things were going to happen.

And you knew you would do whatever you needed to do to protect your family, your aliit.

Your clan of three.

Whatever it took, no matter how far you had to go….

You would always find a way to bring them back to you.

Xxx

(Click here for just the art in its own post.)

Xxx

Tags To Come!

[larissa-the-scribe]

Terrarium Lights

Part 1 of 3 for @inklings-challenge

An older lady befriends and adopts a ghost she found in her garden

Next part >>here

Michael Goffrey bid his wife farewell as he left for his next shipping job, and Gail Goffrey was once again faced with the fact that her house was cavernously empty.

She had expected the house to feel empty after her children grew up and moved on with their lives; that was the sort of thing one always heard about from the mothers and wives left behind. However, everyone seemed to stress the loneliness—not the rather more intense boredom.

Gail had always preferred quiet and alone time, so she did not take issue with the solitude. However, though she still had to cook and mend and clean and tidy and all the other tasks, it was one thing to do so for six people and quite another, shorter thing to do so for two. It was even less of a thing to do so for one, since Michael had been promoted to first mate and now had to accompany the airships personally, no longer simply loading and unloading at the cloudends as he once did.

Empty and meaningless. That’s what it felt like. With her family, she had people to help and care for. With just herself, she felt as though she were wasting time walking in circles for no other purpose than to exist.

She made it to the second day without any significant issue.

She was out tending to the herb garden when it happened—a bug wandered in front of her. That shouldn’t have been a problem. Bugs were some of her favorite creatures. But after the first smile, it hit her that she hadn't seen a new kind of one in months—this one already had three sketches in her notebook.

She’d run out of garden bugs to document.

Bugs, of all things. Bugs were everywhere, bugs had never-ending variations, bugs were constant. And she’d run out of them.

Stabbing the trowel into the earth perilously close to the offending bug, she sat back on her heels and looked up at the sky.

"Well, Lord, I reckon you put me on your good Earth for a reason. And I don't think it was just to sketch bugs." She smoothed her apron out, flicking bits of dirt off of it. "I also doubt I'm done with what I'm supposed to do down here, otherwise I wouldn't be here. But if you don't mind me saying, I'm awfully bored of where I am, though I do love my house and my husband and my town quite fierce. But I have all the time in the world, and I'd like to do good with it, if I could. So if you could show me what to do where I can—give me eyes to see as who I can do good towards—then I would appreciate it mightily."

Gail had prayed similar prayers before, with varying regularity. She knew the good Lord had heard her, as he always did. And if he answered with more solitude and time and boredom, then she supposed that was where she was meant to be for the moment. But she dearly hoped there might be something new this time.

So, really, she shouldn't have been surprised to see someone under the loquat tree. But then again, it had been raining since before dawn, so no one in their right mind would have been outdoors. She should know, since she herself had been out gathering moss for terrariums and hadn't heard a breath from anyone all day, even near the city.

Her first impression was that the lad was quite young. Younger than her youngest, in fact, who had not too long ago started her career as a professor at the nearby university. Looked perhaps like he could be one of her students. Very slight of build, as though he needed to eat more, and small looking as he sat hunched in the rain and letting the wet drip down his messy hair, full of loose ends that had gotten free from his ponytail.

Gail stood at the edge of her garden for a moment, resting her pail of moss against the stone border as she observed him.

He didn't move, just sat there with his face turned towards the soil, and didn't seem to see her. Part of his shoulder seemed stained, perhaps with mud. With the house not a few feet to the left, she wondered if he'd tried to knock and not gotten an answer, what with her out and about.

Well, unexpected or not, there was really only one thing to do.

Gripping her pail handle resolutely, Gail marched her way through the garden paths and stood in front of him. He shifted at the sound of her approach, turning his face up towards her—his eyes were pale, as if someone had sketched them on and not bothered with paint. What's more, up closer, the brownish stain on his shoulder looked rather like dried blood.

He tilted his head, as if trying to tell where the sound had come from.

"Well then," she said after a long moment of trying to figure out what to say, "who might you be?"

"Oh." He looked more directly at her, and somehow the eyes looked a bit more colored in, like they remembered they could be brown. "Dreadfully sorry, ma'am. I seem to have gotten lost in the rain. I hope you don't mind me taking a few moments here under your tree?"

He hadn't answered the question, but he seemed more surprised than shifty. "Not at all. Unpleasant weather to be lost in, for sure. If you'd like, you can wait it out under a roof."

"Oh," he said again, and looked to his left; this time it seemed like he understood what he was seeing. "I suppose that would be nicer."

"Well, you're welcome to my roof, if you’d like," she said. She wondered how long he would take her up on that.

He awkwardly stumbled to his feet before she could offer her hand. "That's very kind of you, ma'am."

"Would you like anything to eat?" She went ahead and led the way to the kitchen door.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Thank you ma’am, but I don't think I'm hungry."

She didn't think he would be, but, well, it wasn't like she had experience with this. Which concerned her—she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. At least he didn't seem to be wicked. She supposed he must need a helping hand and, while she needed to figure out what that help was, he was still just a boy; she would do him the courtesy of treating him accordingly.

The porch and floors, old and creaky since long before she and her husband and infant son had moved in decades ago, greeted them with typical fanfare as they trudged over the threshold. She dripped her way over to the stove, where she put the kettle on; it was unlikely that her visitor would want any, but she most certainly did. Setting her pail of moss by the stove to deal with later, she glanced back to see the lad standing in the middle of the space, staring up at the roof.

Gail wondered if he noticed that he wasn't wet.

"Say," she said, carefully pulling teacups out of the cupboard, "what did you say your name was?"

He looked at her sharply. "I… I don't think I did."

"Hmmmm. Well, how should I call you, then?"

He stared at her.

In the background, the rain continued on.

"Should I just call you ma'am, then?" He said, smiling faintly.

Gail squinted at him. "Now then, young man, are you dodging the question deliberately, or do you just not have an answer?"

"Oh." He glanced around the kitchen, then back to her, and blanked. "Sorry, what was the question?"

Gail rested back against the counter. She picked up her glasses from where she'd left them this morning, and stuck them on, pushing the temples through her sodden mess of hair. "I was just asking what your name was."

His eyes widened. "I… don't… Didn't I answer that?"

"Not as I can recall."

"That… that was rude of me, then, wasn't it?" His eyes were still wide, and the brown was fading.

Maybe it was rude of her to keep pressing the matter. He seemed not to know. Gail pressed her glasses firmer on her nose, trying to reach some kind of decision—but whatever was going on with her guest had been set in motion.

"What is my name?" He asked, his voice rising. "I can't remember my name."

"That's alright, dear," she said, trying to distract him, calm him down. "Do you remember where you were before my garden?"

It had the opposite effect.

He stepped back, towards the door, and glanced around with eyes that no longer understood where he was. "No… I-I can't remember… where am I? Do you know my name?"

"I'm afraid I—"

The kettle shrieked into the space between them with a rush of steam.

The lad cast a wild glance in its direction, stepped backwards. Gail, startled into motion, scrambled to shut the thing off.

When she turned back, the space where he had stood was dry and empty. She and the rain and her pail of terrarium moss had been left alone again.

Next

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

The Secret Portal, Draft One

The people have spoken. Here's my school project I wrote when I was 10.

At fifteen pages, it was the longest in the class by far! (Our minimum requirement was two pages, which most barely reached)

I also got a 100% on it!

Instead of the regular taglist for TSP, tagging the people I tagged in the original poll -- @gracehosborn @illarian-rambling @mk-writes-stuff @elsie-writes @mysticstarlightduck @little-peril-stories @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @eccaiia @winterandwords @thepeculiarbird @televisionjester @finchwrites @theeccentricraven @awritingcaitlin @sleepywriter00 @dyrewrites @somethingclevermahogony @writeintrees @thebejeweledwatercat @theelfauthor @cadotoast @space-writes @sunset-a-story

Can't believe I have to put a warning on this, but--

CW: children are threatened with a firearm but don't worry no one gets hurt and they aren't even that scared; brief Harry Potter reference

Word count: 2.3k

Est. reading time: 7-11 minutes

The following is transcribed exactly as written, save for my use of multi-colored text, which I'm not gonna waste my time adding in.

****

~“Come on, Aurora!” I shouted to my friend, Aurora Flité, who wasn't moving from her seat at school. “Alexia, the bell hasn’t…” she started RRRIIINNNGGG!!! “Oh, wait! ‘The bell hasn’t rang yet’!” I joked. Aurora sighed, shook her head, and pushed herself up saying, “Ha, ha, ha!” “Bye Mrs. Kat!” we called. “Oh, wait Alexia,” Mrs. Kat, my teacher, called. “I found this.” She handed me my metal detector. “I found it on the floor. It said, ‘Redinés’ on it, so, I guessed it was yours.” “Thanks.” I said. “Bye, girls!” she called after us. We walk out of Little Rock Elementary. The beautiful blanket of May flowers stretched out all the way… to my house. <3 I sighed. Nothing was better than… “AAAHHH!!!” I whirled around. Aurora had disappeared! I moved the grass where she had been standing. A rock. A metal rock? I stood up, confused. I put my bag down, next to Aurora’s (which she probably dropped) and felt the rock with my hand. “AAAHHH!!!” I screamed.

EVERYTHING WENT BLACK

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

~I opened my eyes. Was I lying in snow? I forced myself up. Wait… it wasn't snow… it was… CLOUDS?!?!?!?! OK. I am dreaming. I thought.I pinched my self. OW! No, wasn't dreaming. “Aurora! Aurora!!! I called. NO ANSWER. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a house. I crossed my fingers and hoped this was the right house. I knocked on the door and waited... and waited... and waited... and waited… and soon, I started to walk away when an elderly woman opened the door. “Hello!” she said, cheerfully. “Hihaveyouseenagirlwithblackishbrownredhair?” I blurted out. “Herhairflowsuptoherwaist.” “Wha...OH! Yeah, I’ve seen her. She went that way.” the woman said, pointing to her right. I ===zoomed off! “Oh! And watch out for my pet, Bobby!” I thought Bobby was a very hyper puppy that could trample me but, I had to continue my search. I soon found her upside down tangled in vines. I charged towards her. “HEADS UP!” I warned. I pulled on the vines. “AAHH!” she screamed. “umph!” she said as she hit the ground. I brushed the hair out of my eyes, when suddenly… “RRRROOOOAAAARRRR!!!!” We both whirled around. A dragon!! “Run for it, Aurora!” I breathed. We charged towards the house and banged on the door. “LET US IN!!” we shouted. “DRAGON ALERT!” “Come in girls!” the woman said, cheerfully. “Oh, and you too, Bobby!” “BOBBY?!” Aurora said weakly, and fainted... RIGHT ON TOP OF ME.

****

Aurora woke up a few minutes later and found me in the living room. “Where am I?” “The lady’s, Lizzy’s, house.” “Oh, yeah right.” We heard a clatter in the kitchen. We figured it was Lizzy or Bobby, but when we walked in a boy about 16 years old, was standing there. “Hey, you must be Alexia and Aurora! I’m George.” When I shook his hand, he seemed strong, but he didn’t look strong. “Hi,” a voice said behind us. A 17-18ish years old girl was smiling at us. “I’m Carly.” Suddenly, we heard laughter in the other room. We ran towards the noise. We found them in Lizzy’s bedroom. Lizzy and her husband were on the bed. “Oh, Aurora and Alexia, right?” he said. “I’m Theodore Majg. But you can call me Ted.” Suddenly, we heard a knock at the door.” “I’ll get it.” Lizzy sang, as she ran to get the door. “Alexia! Aurora! Someone’s here to see you!” she called a minute later. For US? HERE?! We ran towards the door. A man was there. He wore a very big black hat that covered his face. He also wore a long, black cape. There was only one thing I knew: We didn’t know this guy. The man in black pulled out a gun. A GUN! “Show me the treasure or everyone DIES!” What treasure??? I thought Aurora was about to faint when she said, “OK. we don’t know who you are or what treasure, but if you tell us, we might be able to help.” I thought the man was probably FURIOUS. Instead, he said, “Well, it’s what you call… a metal detector.”

****

~I couldn’t move. He wanted something that was in my pocket! “Um… about that...uh…” the words sounded as fake as they were. “It’s in Lizzy room!” Aurora and I ran in the other room. “I need to hide this!” I yanked out the “treasure”. “Why does he want this?” Aurora asked me. “The portal. The portal brought us here. In Cloud City!” (I named it Cloud City since we were in the clouds.) “The portal is metal. I explained. “I think he wants to use the metal detector to find the portal, destroy it, and keep us from going back to Arkansas!” Aurora looked bewildered. Suddenly, she snatched the metal detector out of my hands and jumped off the bed. “We still havn’t found it!” she shouted. Then, she THREW open the dresser drawer JAMMED the metal detector in, and SLAMMED the drawer shut! “Uhhh!” she grunted as loud as she could. “We just CAN’T find it!” she groaned. Wow! My BFF is a WONDERFUL actor. We went back out into the living room. “I’m sorry, sir. But we can’t find it. You can come back another day.” I said. “TOMORROW!” he shouted. When he left, I felt like fainting myself.

****

~That night, I couldn’t sleep a wink. I closed my eyes, trying to go to sleep. My mind was only focused on the metal detector. I thought of a safe place for it, out of the house. Then… I drifted… away….

****

~When I woke up the next morning, I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that the metal detector was gone. I was about to say, “Aurora! Get up!” When suddenly… BOOP! BOOP! BOOP! BOOP! I screamed. Aurora screamed. We both rolled off the couches, which was where we were sleeping. Oh, by the way, that was Ted’s alarm clock. “Aurora,” I said. “I think we should check the drawer for the You-Know-What.” “Why do we ne-” But I was already running into the room. She sighed, and ran after me. She found me digging though Lizzy’s drawer. “Not here.” I told her. “Oh no!” Aurora exclaimed. “He broke in!” “Check the back door.” I ordered. She ran to the back door. I zoomed to the front. “Locked!” Aurora called. “Same here!” I called back. “Girls!” Lizzy’s voice called come here!” Aurora and I ran towards her voice. We found her in the kitchen sitting down on a chair. “Sit there,” Lizzy pointed to 2 seats in front of her. “You’re 10, right?” We nodded. Uh-oh. I knew what was coming. “Your parents found out when they were your age. You 2--like your family, and every one in this house--have…” Oh my gosh!!! I gave Aurora the Don’t Even Think About Fainting! look. She nodded. “...magical...abilities.”

****

~I knew it. Aurora--thankfully--didn’t faint. Whew! “Like what?” Aurora asked. “Well,” Lizzy said. “I can see through walls.” Our mouths fell open. “For example,” Lizzy went on “Ted is naked and in the shower.” Aurora looked like she was about to puke. “What’s mine?” she asked. “Well,” Lizzy stated, “Yours Aurora, is… Oh! Yeah! You can read minds!” Aurora’s face lit up. “COOL!” Oh my gosh! This is freaky! I thought. “Alexia,” Aurora said looking at me. “You are thinking Oh my gosh. This is freaky! Correct?” I nodded. My mouth was still open. “What’s mine?” I asked, even though I knew what the answer probably was. “Alexia, yours is transportation. You can transport objects, people, and animals to different places.”

****

~Wow! I knew it. I looked at Aurora’s glasses, closed my eyes, and focused on the table POP! I opened my eyes, and looked at the table. The glasses were there. Aurora started to reach for her glasses. I grinned. POP! They were on her lap. POP! They were on my head. POP! They were on her face. “Not funny!” Aurora looked annoyed, but she was biting her lip trying not to laugh. She then turned to Lizzy. “How close do I have to be to read minds?” she asked. “15 yards.” Lizzy answered. “I thought Aurora was done with questions, but, oh no! “You said everyone in this house had abilities! What’s Ted’s? What’s George’s? What’s Carly’s?” Lizzy sighed. “Wel, Ted has super-hearing for a mile. George has super-strenght. And Carly can pick up a pencial with her mind, and write something she’s working on sketching with her mind.” After ALL of that, I REALLY thought Aurora would be done with questions (expecialy if she could read minds) but, she wasn't. “Cool! You also said our families have abilities. What’s Mom’s? What’s Dad’s? What’s Robert’s? What’s Marie-Sue’s? What’s Julian’s? What’s Mrs. Redinés’? What’s Mr. Redinés’? What’s Kelly’s?” Oh my gosh, HOW CAN 1 GIRL HAVE THAT MANY QUESTIONS!? But Lizzy didn’t seem to mind. “Your mom can make things appear out of thin air. Your dad can embarass enemies. Robert can make his voice super loud and it can be heard for 3 miles when he taps his chest. Marie Sue can talk to animals. Tamara has X-Ray vision. And Julian can turn into animals.” Lizzy then turned to me. “Your mom can turn invisible. Your dad has a photographic memory. A Kelly can get in a full conversation ½ klm away.” OMG!!! This was waaaaay to much for me to handle. I absoultely positivley wanted to faint. But then it hit me. The metal detector was gone because of me! I didn’t even know where it was! Ding-Dong! Oh no! The man in black was here!! Wait! I can transport things! My mind focused on the metal detector. POP! The metal detector was safe. For now, at least. I ran towards the door. “Lizzy,” I whispered. “Do you know him?” I pointed to the door. “Take off his hat, Alexia.” I focused on his hat. POP! The hat was next to Ted (who had came out of the shower.) “How did this…” I gave him the Cut It Out! look. He nodded. “Now?” I asked Lizzy. She pushed her curly, gray hair out of her eyes and said, “Yes. He is an evil sorcerer named Warlock LV.” All of a sudden, I remembered Lizzy’s own words: “You can transport objects, people, and animals.” People. I can transport people. BAM! BAM! BAM! My mind focused on Warlock LV. POP! He was 0.6 klm away from us. “I heard a splash.” Ted said suddenly. “He’s at the pool.” I looked at him in surprise. But then I remembered that he could hear a mile away, and 0.6 klm is a mile. I ran into the living room. About a minute later, I had Lizzy, Ted, Aurora, George, and Carly living room with me. (I’d transported them) “I have a plan.” I said.

****

I tied my hair in braids to keep the hair--brown-mess off my shoulder. I made sure my scarlett dress was straight. I fumbled with my glasses. Even though it was my plan, I was REALLY nervous. Aurora and Ted were at the front of the house, waiting to hear him. (“Him” is Warlock LV.) Finally, “I hear him!” Ted called out. That was Carly’s cue. She made out 15-yard mark by picking up a chalk with her mind, drew a line and wrote: Don’t cross this line! Or else! And that’s exactly what we meant.

****

“I know what he’s thinking!” Aurora blurted out a few minutes later. “He’s thinking: ‘Don’t Cross This LINE! Or else! Ha! Stupid kids!’.” Wow. “Lizzy!” I called. “Remember the alarm!” A few minutes later, we heard… ERRRH! That meant Lizzy saw Warlock LV, and that was also George’s cue. He literally busted down the door, ran down the block, and threw Warlock LV up! This was my chance. My mind focused on him and I transported him far away. (I don’t even know where!) “We did it!” we shouted. Then Aurora tapped me on the shoulder. “Alexia, where is the metal detector?” I smiled. “Come on!” I walked into the kitchen, and pointed to the cookie jar on top of the refridgerator. I looked at Aurora. Her mouth was hanging open. I smiled, transported the metal detector down, and walked to the door. “Bye,” we called. “Bye, bye!” they called back. When Aurora and I stepped outside, we heard a roar. “Bye, Bobby!” we waved and it seemed like he waved back.

****

“I found it!” We had just reached the portal. I had been using the metal detector to find it. “I’ll go first.” Aurora said. She took a deep breath, stepped in, and disappeared. I looked around 1 last time. I told myself I can come back anytime. I sighed, closed my eyes, took one step, and fell back to Earth…

****

FLOP! I was back on Earth. I looked up., Aurora was standing there. I forced myself up, and looked at the school, 3:00PM?! But… I looked at the date on my watch, May 15, 2013!? No time had passed since we left. “Let’s… go...home.” I said.

****

I was exhausted! “Hi, Alexia!” my little sister, Kelly, said. She looked happy to see me. Something clicked. Kelly’s best friend, Nellie, had powers too. Nellie once looked like she was floating. I ran to the phone and saw my mom disappear into thin air. And then, my dad started to recite the entire 1st chapter of the 7th Harry Potter book, word for word! I grabbed the phone, dialed Aurora’s numbered and told her to bring Julian and Tamara.

****

On the way to the school, while Julian, Kelly, and Nellie were ahead of us, Tamara, Aurora, and I were talking about our powers. Tamara, Aurora, and I all agreed that Nellie’s magical ability was floating. All of a sudden… “AAAHHH!!!” We looked up. Julian and Nellie were looking down at the portal. “Wait for us, Kelly!” they shouted and jumped after her…………

And

I

knew

exactly

what

was

about

to

happen.

[dearly]

Under-18s should not be pushed into pop stardom, one of the UK’s leading songwriters has said, in the wake of the tragic death of former One Direction star Liam Payne.

As Payne’s father, Geoff, arrived in Buenos Aires, Argentina, to arrange the repatriation of his son’s body, fans were still taking in the news of the 31-year-old’s fall from a third-floor hotel balcony. Many also joined the Girls Aloud singer Cheryl Tweedy, an ex-partner, in decrying the lurid coverage of Payne’s death scene in some news outlets.

Speaking this weekend, Guy Cham­bers, the songwriter and friend of Robbie Williams, has called for the industry to hold back from working with talent under the age of 18. “I do think putting a 16-year-old in an adult world like that is potentially really damaging. Robbie experienced that, certainly,” he told the Observer.

The need for better protection for vulnerable young male pop stars has gained urgency in the aftermath of Payne’s death, prompted by criticism of the music industry’s treatment of the former teenage star, who had spoken of his struggles to find mental stability after his sudden fame as a member of One Direction.

The band was formed on ITV’s The X Factor in 2010, when a 16-year-old Payne came back for a second audition on the talent show and joined up with Harry Styles and fellow members. One of the show’s judges was Tweedy, with whom he later had a child, Bear, who is now seven. Payne had first auditioned for the show aged only 14.

Louis Theroux, executive producer of the upcoming BBC series Boybands Forever has spoken of the perils of “getting everything you dreamed of, and it not being what you imagined”.

Theroux’s new series, which goes out on BBC2 in the middle of next month and was made with his wife, Nancy Strang, will look at both the dramatic highs of gaining instant fame and the contrasting depths of despair it can prompt. With “searingly honest” contributions from Williams, formerly of Take That, and Brian McFadden of Westlife, it focuses on the earlier years of the boyband ­phenomenon in Britain and Ireland, from the 1990s to the late 2000s.

Talking about his year-long work on the show, Theroux said the artists will discuss their “highs and lows” over three episodes that centre “on a generation of young men and their managers, who were wildly successful and also immensely vulnerable, having the times of their lives and, also, in some cases, cracking up.”

Due to the death of Payne, issues the series examines have already prompted leading names in the British music industry to urge action.

Chambers said: “I have four children, so I think about this a lot. I know in Robbie’s case, with Take That, there wasn’t any proper protection set up to look after what were teenage boys. That was a long time ago, but I don’t see much sign of change. There is not much more real care taken, that I have observed, from people involved in the big television talent shows.”

Chambers, who co-wrote the hits Angels and Let Me Entertain You with Williams, believes the entertainment business should set new standards: “I would suggest that people should not be in a boyband until they are 18, and the industry should stick to that, too.”

These worries are echoed by Mike Smith, the former music industry boss at Warner/Chappell, who has also worked at EMI and Columbia. “I am not sure if it is something for ­legislation, but the longer a young person can postpone a career in music the better,” he said.

“Of course, there is nothing wrong with forming a band in your teens, but my admiration goes out to anyone who comes out of an early professional career in good mental shape. I signed a young Irish band called the Strypes once, and I was uncomfortable with the level of responsibility I felt. People are still immature at 16, so the very thought of going through all that madness when you have no idea who you are yet is alarming.”

However, Smith, who has worked with many bands and singers, including Blur, Robbie Williams, Supergrass and Arctic Monkeys, as well as the X Factor winner Matt Cardle, believes there is now much more caution about handling young singers and songwriters.

“When I was at Warners in 2018, we did improve on this. We set up a fund in the contract of our songwriters to cover their mental health care because we were seeing around 25% of them suffering anxiety or depression – and these were not even the frontline pop stars.

“Around that time, the major music companies were all doing similar things to help – taking people on to the payroll to advise the artists and their staff. That wasn’t around early enough for Robbie, I know, but it is better now, partly because we are having the conversations about it.

“I don’t think I really understood it earlier. But what hasn’t changed, of course, is the incredible pressure these young artists are under. Everyone expects you to be living your best life, but then you find you can’t function. People want you to be happy all the time and you are constantly scrutinised.”

[kellodrawsalot]

Anti Sonic idw critics are now saying the trauma Cream and Tails went trough the zombat saga in Idw is just as bad as people drawing Cream, Tails and other minors in nsfw fanart lmao. Your thoughts?

Look, there are many, many problems I have with the Metal Sonic idw arc, Tails and Cream suffering isn't one of them. (In fact, I think the page where Gemerl is comforting Cream when she's turning, is very well done and effective. One of the few scenes I like from the arc) but just in general I think that argument is also just beyond wrong.

In anime, movie, books you find stories of children going trough despair, or side child characters dying. (That one Doremi episode always makes me cry)

it's meant to invoke an emotional reaction from the reader/viewer. You want to see these characters overcome their osbtacles, get saved or in case of friends dying, you want them to process grief. They develop, they grow, they earn their happy ending. It's story telling 101.

When an artist draw these characters in sexually suggestive or erotic art, it's not meant to tell a story it's just meant to be consumed to get off. (And yes erotica can have stories but we all know certain dont google 18+ fanart of these characters for good stories)

The characters dont learn or overcome anything, there just there to be objectified. And While I myself am a fan of erotica, I'm not comfortable with erotic art involving minors. (Duh) Not going on a moral debate with that. I find it disgusting. Comparing that to putting fictional characters in peril is just...???? Offcourse there is a set of storytelling where writers just make characters suffer so much to the point it just comes of as a fetish. (Looking at you MagicalGirlSite) but the metal virus arc is not a fucking example of that.

I personally think these arguments are just made up to try to paint Ian flynn as being just as bad as those kind of artist, so it feels more morally justified to hate the guy? It just reminds me when Lily Orchard and Ez p try to paint Rebecca Sugar as a creep/abusive because of her work on Steven Universe. (Rebecca made these characters suffer, she must support abuse bs) so I dont think people actually believe that, its just them being obtuse on purpose.