#i do not care about his mythical abuse

[gilbirda]

I'm just a simple guard, man

Part 6 of my Danny is an Arkham Security Guard AU (og tumblr post)

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<< Prequel - Clown around and find out | First Part

There was silence and tension as they watched Batman go through the motions, tying up the unmoving but awake Joker and moving him to somewhere closer to the entrance. Joker was surprisingly responsive and lucid, just mellowed and obedient. Somehow it made it better — if he was a vegetable Jason knew Batman wouldn’t let that go until Danny undid what he had done.

Danny.

The Ghost King.

Jason didn’t know exactly what that meant. Heck, until today he didn’t know that ghosts were kind of a thing. Mythical creatures, he could buy. Apparitions, imprints of conscience that were unavenged — that he could buy too. But a Ghost King implied an organized society with status and a legal organization. A power structure.

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention that.”

He turned towards the doctor well aware his face showed every emotion.

“The fuck?”

“Did that really happen?” Duke was trying to keep calm, but his eyes were wide open and his hands slightly trembling.

“Yeah?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“But—”

“How the heck—”

“ — how did he do that —”

“ — did he set him on fire!”

“ — and is he even human?”

“Children,” Alfred stood from his seat, positioning himself between the brothers and their guest. “Let her breathe.”

“It’s okay, Mr. — uh…” She blushed as she realized she never asked for his name.

“Alfred,” the butler smiled, “Alfred Pennyworth.”

“Mr. Pennyworth,” she nodded politely. “I’m fine. I am aware that after that… theatrical spectacle, explanations are needed.”

“Indeed.” Batman cut in the conversation. “Proper explanations are in order. After I deliver the Joker to Arkham.”

“You can’t be serious!” Did the old man go crazy? Back to that place?

Jazz frowned, seemingly sharing his thoughts. She leaned closer to the microphone and spoke in a controlled voice. “Where are you delivering him? In the hospital.”

Bruce took way too long to answer, so Tim did it for him. “Through the front door?”

Jazz didn’t find it funny. “Wait for me.”

“What?”

“I said, wait for me.” Jazz reached for her discarded jacket, eyeing the door to the elevator back to the manor. “Joker is my patient and I need to be there.”

“What for?”

She turned to look at Jason. “He doesn’t deserve to be left at the mercy of some of the people in the Asylum. They could—”

“He can rot for all I care.”

The vigilante walked up to her, getting in her way and using his height and build to scare her into submission. Jazz held his gaze, defiant, muscles tense and ready to throw down if needed.

“You don’t know that place like I do.”

Jason huffed. “Whatever the inmates want to do to him, he deserves it.”

“I wasn’t talking about the inmates.” Her teal eyes steeled with fury. “Arkham has a history of staff abusing their authority.”

Duke glanced at Alfred, unsure what to make of that statement. He quietly stood up, getting ready to intervene in case Jason decided to get violent; but Alfred held him back with a gloved hand on his shoulder.

“Again, he deserves it.”

Tired of craning her neck to look up at him, Jazz stepped back. “He deserves the judgment of the people he’d hurt in the past — something my brother and I can promise you will happen.” Given what they saw in the camera feeds, nobody doubted the siblings could ensure it. “But I’m not going to tolerate that my patient spends his last years alive being unnecessarily abused.”

“I told you—”

“What do you think,” she interrupted Jason, her gaze cold and her body tense, “will happen if someone dies full of rage? If in their last moments they wish they could enact vengeance on those that harmed them?” She narrowed her eyes, knowing her words were hitting something in him. “What do you think will happen to the Joker’s soul if he’s abused and tortured at Arkham, and probably killed, after he crosses the Veil?”

“I—”

“A huge pain in the ass, it’s what will happen.”

The tense silence could be cut with a knife. Duke couldn’t understand how Jazz not only managed to stare down the six foot something tank that Jason was, but she also commanded the attention and respect. He was a newcomer to the place and he had done more than enough crazy stuff during his time in a gang; but he still struggled with openly challenging Jason and Cass. And Tim, but that was when the vigilante fell into his weird mumbling-in-the-dark episodes.

“I’m taking you there.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the garage section of the cave. Jazz yanked her arm free and stopped to cross her arms.

“I can walk on my own.”

Jason bristled, opened his mouth to continue their fight, but apparently that was when Alfred had enough.

“If you want to get there in time,” his voice was neutral, controlled, and his face wore his signature arched eyebrow, “I'd recommend leaving right now.”

His tone was final.

Jazz and Jason looked at each other, frozen under the certified Alfred glare. They nodded and walked quickly towards where Jason’s signature red bike was parked.

***

Arkham Asylum was a mess when the duo arrived — police cars flooded the entrance, and the Batmobile stood out like a sore thumb in the midst of all the red and blue lights flashing around.

Jazz cursed under her breath. She would have preferred to not turn the situation into a circus.

They managed to walk through the sea of cops and civilians looking in the compound from the metal gates. Funny enough, the few guards blocking the way didn’t move to stop them once both glared at them at the same time.

Jazz made a beeline at the Director chatting animatedly with Batman. Black Bat was standing a bit back with Red Robin, probably discussing what just happened with Danny, but the Arkham doctor didn’t care about them.

“I demand I see my patient.” Jazz didn’t beat around the bush.

The Director blinked and slowly looked away from Batman, as if he couldn’t believe someone had the audacity to interrupt this moment. “Miss Fenton—”

“Doctor.” She corrected him.

The man cleared his throat, throwing a nervous glance at the silent Dark Knight.

“Doctor Fenton,” the word was spit like it was a curse, “your shift doesn’t start until eight.”

“But the Joker is my patient and I know he’s in there.” She gestured at the looming Asylum with her hand. “After such a traumatic event I need to see him.”

Someone coughed a laugh behind the Director. At least the man had the decency of hiding a smile.

“The Joker is not going anywhere, Miss— Doctor.” He added when she glared at him. “You can schedule a session tomorrow. That is, if your patient is up for conversation.” With that, the man deemed their conversation over and turned back to Batman. “Once again, thank you so much, Batman. I’m not going to ask how you did it this time, but we will certainly appreciate the results.”

Jason was as happy as everyone else that Joker wouldn’t be a problem anymore, but the way this bastard was treating Jasmine was outright criminal. He squared up for a fight and tried to step forward, but a cold hand on his forearm stopped him. Jazz moved her eyebrows up and her eyes went over his body before she looked back towards the police. Several new vehicles joined the party — all the Gotham news channels were here to record the event.

And he wasn’t wearing his suit. Right.

He nodded and remained where he was, but made a gesture towards where the Director was waxing poetry about how good Batman was for their city and how much the city owed him.

Do you want me to beat him up for you? He wanted to ask.

Jazz chuckled, hiding her smile behind her hand. She shook her head and patted his arm a few times.

“Thanks,” she whispered, “but not today.”

He didn’t know how serious she was. This was the same person who pulled a gun at Red Hood and five seconds later forced him into a therapy session. The same lunatic that was excited about having the whole bat flock in her apartment so she could question them.

For the first time since the alarm sounded about Joker’s escape, Jason let himself relax a little bit. Jazz was crazy enough to take on Arkham’s finest and leave victorious.

“Director Kallwick,” her voice was pure steel, “I’m afraid it’s imperative I see my patient after such a traumatic—”

“I think there’s something you are not understanding, Miss Fenton.”

“And what is it?” She crossed her arms.

The Director raised an eyebrow, now fully facing her. It didn’t escape Jason how the man squared his shoulders to look bigger and overpower Jazz. He had seen that behavior way too many times, in many different situations — and he didn’t like it when men like the Director used it against people that couldn't fight back, specially women.

He glanced at Bruce, trying to gauge how much the old man would flip if he intervened anyway. He trusted Jazz, but he really didn’t like the Director right now.

“I’m positive that after today’s… development,” he smiled, “things at Arkham will definitely change. For the best, of course.” He raised an eyebrow. “Starting with streamlining our staff and making sure we count on experienced doctors to treat the patients that really need it.”

Was he implying…?

Jazz hummed, regarding the man with as much contempt as she allowed herself to show. “I know you don’t like me, Mr. Kallwick. You never did. I know you hired me because you needed cannon fodder to sacrifice and keep the Joker entertained.” She smiled. “I’m young, but I’m not stupid. And I know men like you — weak, scared, and cowardly.”

“Hey there young—”

“I know you’d rather let your staff die than develop better and healthier outlets for patient’s destructive tendencies.” She lifted a hand and walked closer, poking the man’s chest. “I know that you look the other way when guards and doctors mentally and physically abuse inmates because you actually think they deserve it.” She poked him again.

“I don’t—” He went to grab her hand.

She moved away from him so quickly and so smoothly that it looked like a dance step.

She smiled. It wasn’t nice. “And I know all about what you’ve been doing with the funds and donations.”

Even in the middle of the noise from the crowd at the gates, you could hear the man loudly swallow.

“I know about the embezzling and the bribes and the interesting filing mistakes and convenient registration mishaps, Mr. Kallwick.” Her eyes slowly turned greener. It was subtle, but you could see that her usual teal color suddenly looked greener than blue. A trick of the lights, you could think, but the bats knew better. “I know you don’t care how or why the Joker is unresponsive, but I do; and if you want me to stay in my lane I highly recommend you stay in yours.”

The man processed her words, the thoughts clear in his eyes. He was probably thinking how she could have found out, or who told her, or how was he going to silence her better.

Jason saw the switch to the later thought as clear as day.

Bruce saw it too.

Before the man said or did anything else, the tall and quiet shadow of Batman placed himself behind Jazz, one hand on her shoulder as an obvious sign of his support. The other two bats placed themselves on the sides of the Arkham doctor, arms crossed, looking down at the man who was realizing too late the mistake he made.

***

“Are you still mad?”

“Hm.”

“You sound like the old man.”

Jazz glared at him, violently stabbing her ice cream cup and breaking her plastic spoon.

“You may need to deal with those anger issues. Have you thought about going to therapy?” He said with a bright smile.

She stood up, not caring about attracting attention. Who was going to pay attention to them, Jason didn’t know. It was way early in the morning — or late at night, it depends on how you see it — and Jazz had demanded they go to the closest ice cream place that was open.

Luckily he knew a place, because of course only in Gotham someone would be crazy enough to have an ice cream shop open at this hour.

“Some vigilantes, and some rogues, really like ice cream. It is an untapped market.” The man running the place said when asked, shrugging like it was obvious.

Jazz sat back down, now with a new spoon, and continued eating her sweet monstrosity of layered chocolate and dulce de leche.

“If you are this mad I highly recommend you take it with Bruce. I’m sure he will be very understanding and accept your feedback.”

She kicked him in the shins, rolling her eyes at his sarcasm.

“Whatever you say, mister Daddy Issues.”

It was his turn to kick her, but she was expecting the movement and moved away before he made contact. She smirked, taking another bite of her ice cream with a smug smile on her face.

God, he hated older siblings and their knowing smiles.

He prepared to kick her again..

“Don’t even try,” a new voice said, the person taking the empty chair on their little table. “Jazz is like a ninja when she really wants to.”

Jason wanted to differ and explain he had trained with literal ninjas, but the speed at which she whipped a gun on him not that long ago came to his mind. Was it a liminal thing? Or a Jasmine thing? Maybe a Fenton thing?

“Hey.”

“Hey back at you.” Danny sighed, taking Jazz’s ice cream cup and biting directly from the top layer. “That bad, huh?”

Jason bit his simple chocolate cone, watching the siblings talk.

“She’s mad because B scary dog privileged his way into making the Arkham Director submit and it undermined Jazz’s authority. She did a neat speech and everything.” He shook his head. “All wasted.”

She huffed and stole her ice cream back. “I didn’t need his support.”

“I know you don’t.” Danny glanced at Jason. “But it’s better if you have Batman’s backup, yes?”

Jazz ignored him.

Jason took the chance to look at Danny, trying to find anything that was different about the young man. He still had the scene back with Joker burned in his mind.

King of the Ghosts.

He would have never guessed, given the scrawny and sleep deprived raccoon of a man sitting next to him. He was still wearing the same shirt and under the fluorescent lights of the ice cream shop, it was easier to see the scars on his arms and hands — and the ones peeking from under his collar.

“Spit it out.”

“Huh?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “You have questions. Ask.”

“I don’t—” He tried to deny it, but thought better about it. Jason bit his ice cream and cleared his throat. “I want to ask about —”

“Of course you want to ask about what happened.”

A soft thump! came from under the table, and given Danny’s glare at Jazz then she probably kicked him for the sass.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why are you being so forthcoming?”

“I’m feeling charitable today.” Another kick from under the table. “Ok, ok! No need for violence.” He sighed. “Jazz’s right. This is not my territory. If we want to stay, we have to play nice with you guys.”

The way he said it, and the way he made a face when he said it, told Jason that Danny was really struggling with trusting the bats with the information. Trust issues he could understand — one wasn’t in their line of work without being betrayed or hurt enough to warrant these issues.

No. It was something deeper.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

There were many questions burning in his mind and he didn’t know how long they had. “Why… Gotham? Why Arkham? Why a guard?”

“You just wasted your time man. You already know the answer for that.” He pointed at his sister, who nodded in agreement. “I followed her.”

“And I came here because I was interested in the rogues.” She added, licking her spoon clean.

Jason shook his head. “I meant — why is the King of the Ghosts… just… here?” He lowered his voice, glancing at the ice cream man. The man was half asleep on the counter and clearly not listening. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

Danny responded with a dry laugh. “I have no interest in being the king of anything.”

“But?”

He looked away, suddenly very uncomfortable.

Jason glanced at Jazz, but she was glaring at the table.

“What happened?” He poked the siblings, trying to be soft. It was obviously a touchy subject, and whatever happened was painful enough that they’ve been avoiding any mention of their past before Gotham like the plague.

“It was… It happened a few years ago. I defeated the previous Ghost King, but nothing happened for a while. I thought… I thought things had calmed down since ghosts stopped attacking my town so often. And then, after I graduated highschool, the Observants started harassing me about taking the throne.”

“Did they hurt you?” Jason didn’t know what these “Observants” were, but he could guess from context.

Danny shook his head, stealing Jazz’s ice cream again. “They were fucking annoying, but they couldn’t touch me. As the Prince, I was technically their superior and untouchable.” He bit the cold treat and chewed. Somehow Jason wasn’t surprised Danny never got a brain freeze. “It was a few more years of avoiding them and trying to keep peace in town, as well as trying to get to know the Infinite Realms.” He chuckled again. “I even considered, for a moment, that being King wasn’t even that bad.

“It was a pretty normal day when it happened. I went to the mall with my friends. Sam, she — She had a fight with her parents and went there to cool down and cheer her up. The ghosts came first,” he pushed the ice cream back to his sister, and avoided Jason’s eyes, “but nothing was out of the ordinary. We fought. I defeated them. More and more kept coming, faster than I — than we could contain them.”

“I was away at college, but I later learned that it was a massive all out attack on just Danny.” Jazz placed a hand on Danny’s. “It was a coup attempt.”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know that so many people were against me being King, and all that time they were planning the attack, and if I just paid a little more attention… If I wasn’t so—”

Another kick under the table. Danny cleared his throat and tried again.

“The GIW came as well. Things went from bad to worse, and by the end of the day it was an all out war between us, the ghosts doing a coup and the GIW. With our parents at the head of the attack.”

Jason frowned. “But you guys knew they worked with the GIW.”

Jazz gave him a warning look. “We knew they collaborated and consulted for them. We knew about the patent weapons.”

“But we didn’t know that they’d lead an attack on me.”

Danny did a brief pause to breathe, and stole more ice cream from his sister. She just pushed the cup towards him, apparently done with the treat.

Jason followed where the siblings were going. “They knew you’d be at the mall. That… That Phantom would be at the mall.” Danny looked up, his tired eyes confirming his thoughts. “They knew.”

It wasn’t a question.

Jazz nodded anyway. “We don’t know how long they did, but the truth is they knew about Danny. And went for him anyway.”

Minutes ticked by. Jason and Danny made quick work of their ice creams, lost in thought. Jazz checked her phone, frowned, and typed a few messages before putting it away.

“People died.”

Jason blinked at the non sequitur. Danny swallowed the last of the ice cream and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“Neighbors, friends, people I knew. That day. They were fine and then they were dead.”

Guilt. It was clear as day.

“Is not your—”

“Don’t.” He cut him off. “Please.”

Jason nodded and decided to move on. “So you won the fight?”

“Barely. The ghosts were either captured by the GIW or retreated when they became outnumbered. Tucker and Sam managed to mess up with the idiots in white’s machines and weapons long enough for us to retreat. But we knew that wasn’t the end of it.

“We packed what we could and I hid at Sam’s, with the excuse that I would help her while she recovered — she broke her arm at the fight. We were a hundred percent sure if… if Jack and Maddie actually knew I was Phantom or not, but just in case.”

“I stayed. They didn’t target me so we were positive they didn’t know about me being liminal, so I stayed home.”

The vigilante frowned at Jazz. “What for?”

“Someone had to monitor them to see what they knew exactly. I also hid away any weapon they could potentially use against Danny.” She shrugged. “Not that it actually helped, because neither came back home in the weeks after the incident.”

“They were at the GIW base.” Danny crossed his arms and leaned back on his seat. The young man looked tired. “Because of course there was work to do with the captured ghosts.”

Jason hummed. “So they’ve been working on experimentation since then?”

Jazz shook her head. “We were telling the truth when we said they weren’t involved in that, at least not by the time we left Amity Park. Back then they were more involved in investigation on ghost containment and weapons research.”

He nodded, and turned back to Danny. “And the coup?”

The young man cursed under his breath. “Dealt with them.”

Jason waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What—”

“Listen, man.” He slapped the table and stood up. “That doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. I dealt with it. I accepted the damn crown and then told everybody to fuck off. And they have done that so far.” He breathed in, breathed out. “I’m nobody’s king, I’m just a simple guard now, okay? Nothing more, nothing less.”

With that, Danny walked away and left Jazz and Jason simmer in the tense silence. He looked at her, trying to gauge if he had said the wrong thing, but Jazz appeared apologetic.

“Before you ask — I don’t know either. Nobody does. He just… after we took down the GIW base, he took the captured ghosts back to the Realms. He came back two days later, hurt and barely coherent, and never spoke of what happened there. To anybody.” Not even me, the hurt statement was implied. “He was… changed. He didn’t say what happened but from what we could piece together it was bad, very bad.”

A myriad of possibilities crossed Jason’s mind. How bad is “very bad”? How much did Danny stir things up at the Realms that he had remained unbothered ever since? He tried to map the scars that he saw, and grimaced at the idea of two straight days of fighting after doing a raid to the GIW base.

Danny was done. With being a hero. With fighting. With trying to do the right thing.

What was even the “right thing” here? Going back to being the King of a dimension that doesn’t want him and he doesn’t want in return? Give it up, and risk someone worse taking control of so much power? Destroying the GIW? Going after their own parents?

He thought about the Joker. He asked Jazz when she was back from checking on the clown, and she willingly shared some details about his state. Jason never felt sorry for the fucker, but gained a new appreciation for Danny and his abilities.

The power to take someone’s soul and seal it inside their bodies — what else could he do? What other otherworldly and potentially devastating powers did he have at his disposal?

What else was he choosing not to face? What else was he running away from?

He stood up and followed Danny outside, finding him standing in the cold morning rain of Gotham. It wasn’t pouring, but it was easy to get soaking wet if you underestimated it.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

Both ignored the door when Jazz quietly followed them out of the ice cream shop.

“Good.” The younger man looked up at the gray sky, maybe looking for the sun. Water droplets fell down his face, and he welcomed them with a relieved, albeit tiny, smile. “Because I don’t have anything else to say.”

Jason rolled his eyes. What a drama queen.

He glanced at Jazz, who was shaking her head. “Whatever you say, edgelord.”

She pulled Danny to her chest for a hug, which he only protested with a tiny grumble. Jason chuckled before he was pulled in too by a surprisingly strong grip.

“If I have to suffer sisterly hugs then so do you.”

Jazz giggled but welcomed the addition to her arms, not caring that she could barely hold both of them and her arms fell short. She squeezed them harder towards her chest, humming in delight.

Great, she was a hugger. Jason really didn’t need another Grayson in his life.

<< Prequel - Clown around and find out | First Part

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[diazsdimples]

@hippolotamus and I were bouncing around ideas the other day about Bucktommy gaining custody of Tommy’s younger sibling and it got me thinking. Full credit to Hippo for this idea.

What if Tommy had a much MUCH younger brother (say, 14 years old compared to his 42 years) who he wasn’t allowed to see. Tommy’s parents are Bad Parents, and they abused Tommy his whole childhood, so imagine the gut-wrenching panic he would feel what he finds out that somehow, his mom is pregnant again. The only thing he knows about this kid is his birthday and his name, and that’s it. He itches to meet the kid, to protect him from their parents but he can’t because they forbid him from coming to visit. They cut off all contact with Tommy, and he spends the majority of his 30’s wondering what happened to his brother and if he’s safe.

Fast forward 14 years, Tommy is happily in a relationship with Buck, they’ve moved in together and are contemplating taking the next step in their relationship (💍). Tommy’s happy, happier than he’s been in years. He’s found his family, he’s doing well in his career, he’s in love, life is good. Until one day, he gets a call out of the blue from his lawyer, who tells him that he now has sole custody of one Dillon Kinard. Tommy listens as the lawyer informs him of his parents’ arrest, and how they’re set to be charged with counts of abuse against his brother. As Dillon’s only other relative, he falls into his custody. And Tommy has no clue what to do. Of course, Buck immediately tells him that they’ve got to take the kid in. He sympathises with Dillon (I think his story resonates with Buck a little) and can see the hurt in Tommy’s eyes whenever they talk about the kid. So Dillon comes to live with them and Tommy and Buck get a sudden crash course in parenting a teenager.

Only problem is, Dillon doesn’t want a thing to do with Tommy. He’s spent his whole life hearing about this almost mythical older brother who never came to visit and never one reached out to them. All he knows is Tommy left him, and he hates Tommy for that. Tommy tries to explain that he wasn’t allowed to see him, that he would have killed to lay eyes on the kid just once, to know he was safe, but every step he took to reach out was thwarted by their parents. And Tommy doesn’t know what the fuck to do, but he knows he is going to love this kid and care for him and provide him with the safe, loving home he needed from the day he was born. So every day, he tells Dillon the things Tommy wanted to hear as a teenager. That he’s safe, that’s he’s loved. As Dillon slowly warms up to Buck and Tommy, he sees that Tommy did care. Tommy shows him the letters he wrote Dillon every year on his birthday, and how they got sent back to him every year. Tommy finds that loving Dillon and helping him heals Tommy’s inner child, the kid that had craved nothing but love and his parents’ approval.

Buck though, Buck is stressed. How the heck can he be a good pseudo-parent to his partner’s 14 year old kid brother? He feels like he’s barely old enough to be his father, having only been around 18 when Dillon was born. And Buck’s never been a dad before, he feels so out of his depth, so he pulls away. He doesn’t run, because he can’t leave Tommy, but he retreats into himself a little bit as he tries to process everything. And that hurts Tommy, because right now he needs his partner’s support, and he feels as though he doesn’t have it. Tommy thinks Buck doesn’t want Dillon in their lives and that hurts more than anything. They have an argument about it, and Buck gets so frustrated because he can’t explain what he’s meaning and he knows he’s hurt Tommy, so he runs to Eddie and begs his best friend to help.

Eddie immediately goes about talking some sense into Buck. He sits him down, listens to Buck rant and ramble about how he’s not good enough, and how he’s going to fuck everything up, and how he doesn’t know how to be a dad. And when he’s done, Eddie very very patiently explains to Buck that he is, in fact, a father. That he’s been a dad to Chris for over half the kid’s life now, that he’s loved his son unconditionally. And that he knows Buck loves Dillon just as much. He contemplates roping Chris in to back him up but figures he should probably leave the kid out of it. Instead, he lets Buck cry, gives him some water and some food, and then frog marches him back to his and Tommy’s home, where he sits the two men down and gets them to actually talk to each other, goddammit.

Tommy and Buck might not be perfect parents, and they’re not going to get everything right all the time, but they’re a damn sight better than Tommy and Dillon’s parents, and that’s all that matters. And sure, the 3 of them have difficult days as Dillon pushes boundaries and is just a typical teenager, but at the end of the day, they love each other and they want happiness for their kid.

[autism-alley]

hi originally posted this at the end of a long thread of back and forth, here’s the og post if you want full context but i feel like this needs to be its own post especially bc i keep seeing this argument being made—the argument that the kids (in this case it was annabeth) SHOULD just know the monsters are monsters and who they are and how to defeat them before ever encountering them, that it’s a problem if they don’t.

the problem is not if 12 year olds should recognize a trap when they see one, even if they’re smart 12 year olds, and if that’s realistic. that is entirely beside the point.

the problem is rick riordan wrote a book series whose formula is bringing myths to the modern age and he’s not sticking true to that in the show—percy jackson and the olympians’ Shtick is taking these classic, ancient threats and giving them a new face. these traps work because these kids are not walking into a cave marked with Get Out and getting ambushed by monsters—the monsters are disguised as harmless mortal human beings, in harmless mortal human being places (for the most part) and i think we—and more importantly, the show—are all forgetting the mist, the magic involved here. it’s not just that medusa is a “creepy lady with her eyes covered” it’s that there is ancient magic at work here, magic that, like the systems of abuse pjo exists to criticize, has been evolving and continuing its malevolence for millennia. it’s formulaic, that’s the point. it’s the same trap you’ve learned about all your childhood, the same trap a thousand children before you learned all their childhoods, and still, it works. you fall into the trap. because that’s how generational abuse works. it’s a trap. it isn’t enough to learn monsters exist, what they look like from a second hand story that originated thousands of years ago. if you want to escape alive, you have to adapt as quickly as they do, recognize their face, and ultimately, beyond any individual trap, the game itself has to change. real, generational change.

so. the problem is rick riordan wrote a series with a formula for action that perfectly captures the overarching, systemic conflicts he was commentating on, and then threw that formula out in the show because it was “unrealistic”. i don’t give a damn about realism when it works to the detriment of the story. this is a story about generational abuse, yes, but it’s told through ‘a tale as old as time’ and that’s why it works so fucking well. and when it comes to basic storytelling, if your characters know the threat before they even walk in and you do practically nothing to then make up for the stakes you have removed, that’s a flaw. now you’ve lost the entertainment value for your audience, on top of also lessening your themes.

something else that is so. honestly soul-crushing as a writer and a creative, is that to me this is reflective of the way we are now afraid to tell earnest stories. stories where we care not for listening to the people who want to pick apart fictional, mythical, fantasy stories for not being “realistic” instead of aligning with our target audience who acknowledges reality is not what makes a story. think of your favorite movie, show, book, comic, what have you—has the reason for your favoritism ever been because it is the most reasonable, the most grounded, the most practical out of any you’ve seen? or is it because of the emotion? the way it speaks to you, to your life and the person you are? the journey it takes you on? is the percy jackson and the olympians book series so good because it’s inherently realistic?

the secret to storytelling is, very simply, focus on your story. everything else is secondary. if it’s written well, it doesn’t matter to me that the characters walk into a trap that, to the audience, is obviously a trap. because i can understand how the characters don’t know it, and how the story falls apart if the narrative just tells the characters it’s a trap from the jump. that’s what dramatic irony is—first used in greek tragedies! this is literally a tale as old as time in every sense except for the end—where it’s happy. and it’s not earned if we don’t first see, over and over, the status quo as a tragic trap.

it’s not about if annabeth (or the other kids) is “smart enough” to not walk into a trap, or about if she’s just too prideful to not walk into what she knows is a trap (or any reason that could apply to the other characters), it’s that annabeth, at the end of the day, is a character. she is a storytelling tool for the messages of the narrative. that doesn’t make her any lesser. in fact ignoring it reduces her, because it reduces what she represents. it’s about how rick riordan, or whoever else at disney, has fumbled the storytelling bag so ridiculously hard that they can’t take the simple, effective formula outlined from start to finish (by good ol 2009 rick himself) and adapt it to the screen without answering the most unimportant, derailing, anti-story questions.

[arceus-insanity]

Endeavor Deserves No Sympathy!

I don't understand how anyone can think Endeavor was ever a good dad. It also always comes off as incredibly victim blamie, especially towards Touya, and often Shoto too.

He literally only got married and had kids to use them. He never gave a shit about their well being, never even thought about it until he had the one thing he cared about and was still miserable. I've already gone over the math proving he gave up on achieving his dream himself at 21 at the absolute latest. (https://www.tumblr.com/arceus-insanity/763259515356512256/i-liked-endeavors-character-when-he-was?source=share)

And basic math will once again be used to prove just how little this waste of flesh actually tries.

This time the focus is on how quickly he abandoned Touya and immediately went to emotional abuse via neglect & literally replacing him, and once again risking that more children be born with self-destructive quirks.

For context we only see Endeavor doing anything with his kids that's not him literally walking through and ignoring them in two circumstances. Once when Fuyumi's a newborn and Touya is attempting to crawl (not walk) over to her. And training. Those are the only times he tries to spend with any of them, even after he starts his 'atonement'

Now comparing Touya in the scene of them training and himself as a toddler and all the child imagery this series loves to use instead of actually saving imperfect victims, Touya is at least 3 (probably closer to 4) when he's taken to the doctor and they are informed of his condition

Natsuo is 4 and a half years younger than him.

We know for a fact Natsuo (& Shoto) was conceived after they got the news, not willingly either. Pregnancy takes 40 weeks average, so Touya would still be 3 when Natsuo was conceived. So once again it took this 'man' less than a year to give up and have another child he hoped to use as a tool, and was explicitly making to hurt his existing son. And as I have said plenty of times before, risking that the new kids could be born with the same disorder, I hate how convenient it is that Shoto gets near zero negative quirk side effects.

Want to know what we never see, Endeavor doing something else with Touya and Touya demanding training, it's always him walking past/ away from Touya. Considering all of the shit they've pulled to soften Endeavor's abuse both in the manga and even more so in the anime, they wouldn't skip something like this. It's not hard to tell that Touya's 'obsession with training' is really about spending time with his dad, you know like a human child that literally needs love, proven by numerous studies and research in the real world.

He throws all parenting responsibilities onto Rei, adds more children to that load, and when Touya suffers for it (like everyone else) he does nothing, doesn't even hire a nanny

Another are you kidding me take I've seen is that somehow Touya's quirk issues are worse than Midoriya's and Yuga's. Touya managed to train his quirk to produce blue fire at 13 with zero equipment and less than no help, and only lost control of it, because of the mental abuse Endeavor had inflicted on him leading him to a mental breakdown. And/ or the theory I've only seen once of AFO using his ability to force quirk activation (seen with a passed out chapter 90 during his first confrontation with All Might)

Midoriya was breaking his bones all the way into the Shie Hassaikai arc and was only able to fight because Eri and was breaking support equipment in the following arc as well. Yuga had a support belt all the way back in the entrance exam and was still struggling with that.

Speaking of Yuga let's compare parental effort here, because as much as it backfired Yuga's parents tried a whole lot more. For starters they nearly bankrupted themselves to get him a quirk, so he could feel equal. All For One is a mythic man prior to his arrest, and those who knew of him were shown to be serious long-term villain groups, so they had gone to quite a bit of effort to find that he existed to begin with. They also got him support gear (the navel belt thing) as a kid to help him with said quirk, he literally had it in the entrance exam. Endeavor never looked into that, Endeavor is not only rich too but he's a top hero he would have direct access to support equipment companies that would jump at the opportunity and it never even occurred to him.

Endeavor's name is an irony as endeavour means to try hard to do or achieve something. He never tries hard he gives up incredibly quickly the second there's any road block, but instead of moving on he makes everyone suffer for it. He's a toxic pageant mom who'd rather force their child into a toxic world and a role they don't want than work on himself

And what finally makes him change? Getting exactly what he wanted and still being miserable, and he still expects through his actions his family to cater to him.

Not his son getting a major disability due to his actions, no, he decided to double down, mentally abusing and neglecting the son he supposedly loves, raping his wife who didn't want more kids or participate in this abuse, and again risking that Natsuo & later Shoto might have that same issue. Not when his wife breaks down and permanently scars his precious masterpiece, who proceeds to rightfully blame him, and he just thinks of it as a tantrum despite it lasting a fucking decade. Not when his eldest literally dies as the result of his selfishness. Not literally during any part of this entire process!

Dabi is 23 when Endeavor finally starts to 'try' to be better, that means that for at least 24 years he has only been caring about his fucking precious number one spot in a popularity contest that he couldn't even bother to try to be likeable for, this wasn't one bad decision, this was him constantly choosing to be so insanely selfish that he found ways that shouldn't even be possible for over two decades. And it was all him.

[kindasleepywriter]

Bird of Prey ~ Chapter 8: Forging a Warrior

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: Azriel helps you open up about your past.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: Child abuse, neglectful/absent parents, torture (yes again i'm sorry she's been through a lot)

Word count: 2.6k

Prev | Next

“My parents,” you started, “were mates. I know that’s not exciting for the Inner Circle, with your abnormal amount of mating bonds. It’s almost statistically impossible, really.”

Azriel laughed and shook his head softly at the comment.

“For the common people who don’t take baths in mythical objects, you know that’s rare. Very rare. My mother was a respected officer in the Dawn legions, and so was my father in the Illyrian army. They both were powerful enough to gain recognition at the time. When their bond snapped, everyone was uneasy at the thought of a child born of the two courts, but the idea of fated offspring from two powerful magic wielders was enough for them to tolerate their offspring. They kept it all very hush-hush, until they were certain where I’d end up.”

“I say they’re mates but it certainly wasn’t the romantic dream people portray.” you continued. “The hate between Peregryns and the Illyrian… well, I’m sure you’re aware of how deeply entrenched it is. When I was born, I was just a piece of property to be used as a bargaining chip. Dawn and Night battled over me like children, claiming they had the right to claim me. In the end, it was settled that I’d get education in both courts, that negotiations would take place when I’d have my first bleed, and that I’d be married off to someone in whichever court ended up not owning me.” You shuddered slightly at the memory. You’d been made aware of the potential suitors during your teenage years, and you knew a future with the men that each high lord put forward would be misery.

Azriel’s face darkened. He seemed not to be a fan of the arranged marriages that run rampant in Illyria, you thought.

“I’d have expected such a trade from the Illyrians,” he said through gritted teeth, “but for the Dawn court to be involved in such dealings… They must’ve expected a lot from you.”

You let out a snort. That wasn’t even the beginning of it.

“This was Thesan’s doing?” he added, and you could practically see the spymaster master gears start running in his head.

“No, I think Thesan would’ve done things differently.” You had never truly met him, but you’d heard enough from the people through your travels. He was a much kinder man or, at the very least, not someone who’d encourage the treatment you’d received as a mere child. Azriel appeared relieved at your words.

You hadn’t known the Shadowsinger that long, but you’d seen enough to understand he was willing to go to great lengths for the people he… cared about. There was no other way to put it. He’d begun caring for you as you had for him and, even if it scared you to death, it brought you much comfort.

“They expected me to move mountains,” you said, “and stop a thousand-man army without breaking a sweat by the time I was twelve. I was trained in every type of combat they could think of from the moment I could stand and hold a stick. Imagine a 6-year-old being treated like any grown soldier in the camps... I could deal with the physical training, but it was the hate and mockery of both courts that dealt the most damage. I hadn’t even grown my first flight feathers before I had heard every sort of insult possible and faced beatings from soldiers of all ages.”

“My parents…” you added hesitantly as you felt your voice wavering, “They didn’t care. If anything, they encouraged the others, because what worth could I have if I couldn’t protect myself? They berated me whenever I told them, they’d answer that it didn’t matter that the ones dealing the blows were twice my age, as I’d have to face much worse ‘out there in the real world’.

It deteriorated as I got older, without any magic to show for myself. The courts were growing restless, demanding things I couldn’t give them and, when I wasn’t able to do as they asked, they took any means possible to verify I wasn’t lying. During those years, they put me through pain… pain I hadn’t even imagined was possible.”

You blinked and looked up at the light blue morning light, trying and failing to keep your tears from falling. You felt the phantom slice of the blades, the coals, the spears they had used, every time you fell asleep. They’d keep you from unconsciousness each time and healers healed your wound, but you didn’t need the scars they’d erased as a reminder. You still carried your past with you every day.

You felt the subtle touch of Azriel’s shadows, still roaming hesitantly where you were perched on the railing. They slid over your shoulders, a weight to keep you anchored in the present. Azriel approached you silently, conscious of your distress. He looked murderous, but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you. He raised a hand towards you but seemed to think better of it and retreated. You gripped him before he had the chance, uncertainty in his eyes at the contact of your skin against his. You silently ran your thumb over his rigid knuckles, trying to match the rhythm of his respiration as to calm yourself and focusing on the texture beneath the pads of your fingers.

You knew of the burns on his hand, you’d noticed them almost immediately upon meeting him, but they were anything but repulsive, despite what he seemed to think. They were a part of his history, what had made him into the man he is now, and you found that there was a pride to be found in them. It showed he’d survived, that he was stronger than what had happened to him.

He relaxed after a moment and stepped closer to you, hesitantly wiping your tears away with his free hand.

You were too deep in your own mind to think about the intimacy of the situation.

“When they finally realized that I was as good as powerless” you said, “No one wanted me. From that moment, I was just a disgusting half-breed on which they’d wasted their time. It didn’t matter that I could take on their best soldiers from adolescence, my blood was too tainted for them to bother with me. My father turned his back on me and stopped contact entirely. My mother decided to keep me in the end, and I still don’t know if it was a moment of weakness at the thought of leaving her child at the mercy of the world, or if it was just in hopes of me eventually discovering some hidden powers. I never asked her; I was too afraid of the answer. She sent me to some second residence she owned, hidden away from anyone else, where I kept training on my own and worked myself into the ground, still desperately hoping I could be what they all wanted.”

Azriel frowned. “I understand you would be easily recognizable in Illyria, but how could people even tell you weren’t fully Peregryn in Dawn? Surely, they couldn’t notice it at first glance.”

“The knowledge of my existence had traveled too far. Dawn had paraded me like cattle, hoping to lay claim. There’s also… There’s one obvious thing. It’s something I’ve kept hidden for a while now. I think the Vanseras might be the only ones outside of Dawn who even know about it. It’s very visible and it puts a target on my back. I didn’t want my presence tracked across Prythian that easily after I left Autumn.”

It was time for someone to know, you thought. If only to be able to stretch your wings, to finally get rid of the fears that you held for them. You steeled yourself for what you were about to do and looked around towards the house, peering into the balcony doors and to the roof, making sure you weren’t watched. The last thing you wanted was for this to reach Rhysand’s knowledge. His father had done enough damage to you as is, you didn’t need him to try and do the same.

At your hesitance, some of Azriel’s roaming shadows slithered in all surrounding areas, sweeping over windows and doors. “There’s no one here to see.” he reassured you softly after a moment, from where he now stood between your parted legs, your hands still joined together. You felt your anxiety fade a little; you didn’t find any dishonesty in his words.

You hesitated, still. He pointed his chin at his own membranous wings, and they stretched, slightly curved inward towards you, and brushed along each of your shoulders. He was inviting you to follow his movements, you realized.

Slowly, you straightened your spine and used the rarely used muscles that crossed your back to slowly unfold your wings. You kept them at a certain distance from Azriel’s, you weren’t quite ready for that type of contact. You winced at your wings’ stiffness, but shook them out to fully extend them, exposing the inky black dawn feathers that lined their interior surface.

Azriel’s mouth opened slightly in shock as he studied the expanse of plumage, razor focused. You knew they were unusual, the harsh contrast of white and black and sharp corners of them drawing the eye, and you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious at his reaction. While you held no hate towards your own wings, you’d never let someone fully examine them since you were a child and had only ever received insults from others about their appearance.

“They’re beautiful, Dove.” he breathed, following every feather. The tension you held didn’t leave you.

“You might be the first one to say that.” you laughed half-heartedly.

His eyes cut to yours sharply. “They must’ve all been idiots, because those are the most magnificent wings I’ve ever seen.”

You flushed at the praise, barely holding his gaze as you shied at the attention. His hands twitched between yours, no doubt itching to study the feathers closer, and you guided one of his towards the closest ones. You instinctively felt the need to fold your wings away from the touch of another person, but you held a tight lid on your feelings and stayed as still as possible when his fingers brushed against one of the longest flight feathers.

You only twitched at the contact, keeping your focus on Azriel’s expression. He looked mesmerized as he explored the surface under his touch. You had no trouble believing he hadn’t lied about liking them, his childlike wonder blowing away any doubts you may have had earlier.

“You have a bigger wingspan than I do.” he said unexpectedly with narrowed eyes, as if the thought had slipped from him unwillingly. You couldn’t stop the startled laugh that escaped you, amusement flaring through you.  He’d just added an onslaught of teasing to his future.

Your fidgeting hands found his wings too as you giggled. You waited for a moment before touching them, and he made no comment on your intentions despite you knowing he was fully aware of your movements. He never missed anything. You barely touched the membrane, but then softly ran your fingers along the base of his talons and you felt him shudder under your hands.

“Don’t- Don’t start something you won’t finish, Dove.” he said hoarsely, lightly gripping the feather he was examining. You laughed again as you remembered the sensitivity of the Illyrian wings. You’d never had the opportunity to study these reactions up close, having never laid with an Illyrian, but you’d heard about the anatomy all the same in the camps.

“I won’t torment you today.” you teased softly, your hands retreating to rest at the nape of his neck.

He tried to imitate the gesture you’d attempted earlier, receiving nothing but another light twitch in response. “Do you not feel that?” he questioned, indignant at your lack of reaction.

“I do and it feels nice, we just have different… different erogenous zones.”

“Of course, you’d be the one person to actually call it an ‘erogenous zone’.” he muttered under his breath as you continued giggling at his display of irritation. You couldn’t help but think that he might get to figure how to make you shiver too… but only if you stayed. The last thought dampened your mood. You shouldn’t be thinking about that now. Trust him, you reminded yourself, Stop thinking about fleeing.

You curled your fingers into his hair and sighed as he continued his ministrations. Despite your thoughts, you were far more relaxed than you’d been in a long time. You didn’t remember ever letting someone touch your wings without you being forced or pressured into it, and the care he put into caressing the soft dawn feathers felt heavenly. You leaned forward and sighed, face dropping to Azriel’s neck and finger still raking through his curls.

“I didn’t tell you everything yet.” you murmured.

Azriel hummed in response, the decision to continue or not remaining yours. You didn’t want to break the moment, but you couldn’t stop halfway through. You didn’t move away from him as you spoke softly against his skin.

“When my mother died, I didn’t inherit anything.” You started.  “I don’t know who got her things instead. Some officer from the legion just showed up one day, broke the news, and promptly kicked me out. I barely had time to pack a bag. I didn’t feel like I could stay in Dawn, but I didn’t have anywhere to go either. I tried to send a letter to my father and never got a reply, so I naively assumed he didn’t receive it. I knew he had no interest in me previously, but I thought he’d show some mercy to a child he’d had with his mate. I traveled there and- well, you know the rest.”

Azriel stayed silent for a moment. “Your parents were some right shitheads.”, he finally said, and you didn’t have to see him to guess the frown that adorned his face.

“You’re telling me.” you muttered. “I take special comfort in knowing they both died painfully. Those two assholes both ended up rotting away alone in their courts from infections, not gloriously on the battlefield like they must’ve dreamt.” Fate had gotten that right, at least.

He chuckled and let go of your wings, instead wrapping his arms loosely around you, completely undeterred by the cruelness of your words. You basked in his closeness.

The moment was too short for your liking before his grip on you tightened. A few of his shadows emerged from the balcony doors, and he groaned deeply.

“We have approximately 2 minutes before Rhys and Amren come here to try and convince you to start training your magic.” he said.

You muttered a few choice words that conveyed exactly what you thought of the idea.

“That’s what I thought you’d say, Dove.” You pulled back and glanced at him. He had a mischievous look in his eyes. “You know, there’s a lot to do in the city.”

“I feel like an escape plan might be brewing,” you said with an arched brow. He smiled in response. “Won’t they be mad at you for leaving with me?”

“Not if they don’t catch us.” he laughed.

Rhysand and Amren found nothing but the remnants of your scents, flowing through the breeze.

Finally another soft moment 🙏 be prepared for a LOT of (requited) pining y'all

I've got a couple chapters already written that I'll just need to edit over the next few weeks, so the update will continue like they have so far!

As always, I'd love to hear what you guys think about the story and your theories on what's happening next 💛💛

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

Taglist: @sapphenaa @minnieoo @weasleyreidstyles

[khaire-traveler]

Hi! Could you help me? I really want to worship the Theoi, but it's hard when i read the mythology :(

I mean, in the myths so many gods do it terrible things... Apollo on Cassandra and Marsyas, Dionysus on Pentheus and Orpheus, Artemis on Kallisto, Hera on Zeus's lovers and offsprings...

How can i worship, for example, Apollon, after all the horrible things he do it in the myths, i really want to but the more i seek into greek mythology, more hard is 😫

Hey, Nonny,

The most important thing to remember about the myths is not to take them literally. The myths are just that: myths. They are stories written over 2,000 years ago in a culture where many of these things were, unfortunately, considered normal. These days, we look back and frown upon these things, but back then, it was widely accepted.

The myths are not "The Bible" of Hellenic worship. Mythic literalism isn't encouraged. The myths were meant to explain things that happened in nature or why we should respect the gods (due to their power and influence), but they are not meant to be taken literally. There are lessons to be learned from them, such as to not be rude to others or to be kind to strangers and guests, but in my opinion, they're not literal representations of the gods.

In my experience, the gods are significantly different from how they're represented in the myths. Apollo, for example, is extremely kind, respectful, and doesn't overstep the boundaries that I've set. He's helped me through some of the darkest moments in my life and has been there for me right after I was SA'ed. As another example, Zeus helped me escape from a horrible abuser. He helped me cut all ties with them and protected me from their influence. He forgave past transgressions that I had made under the abuser's manipulation. He was kind, understanding, and made me feel safe. Hera, as another example, helped my family when I had prayed for her assistance during a time where my family's future was entirely uncertain. She came to me with a warm, motherly energy, and even though I had been nervous, her presence was reassuring.

Ultimately, it's your choice if you want to take the myths literally; I'm not going to stop you or anyone else from doing so. However, I disagree strongly with that point of view. The gods have proven themselves, in my experience, to be nothing but compassionate, accepting, and respectful. They have lent me their aid freely and helped me grow into a more mature, better person. I don't believe we're meant to take the myths so literally. I think the myths are stories, written thousands of years before our lifetimes, by people who thought atrocious actions were ok based on the culture they stemmed from.

I hope this clarified my opinions on the matter, and maybe it brought you some peace of mind. Take care, Nonny, and best of luck on your journey. 🧡

[isnotwhatyourethinking]

The Warrior & The Healer - Chapter 3

Cassian x Winter Court Healer Reader

Summary: Y/n's healing powers are unparalleled, a gift from the Mother that she wields with precision and care. Sent to Velaris under the guise of a diplomatic mission, Y/n is secretly bound by a darker duty—spying for the Winter Court's ruthless war general, Isarn, to protect her imprisoned mother. But as she works to heal the wounds inflicted by Hybern, a chance encounter with a certain Illyrian warrior changes everything.

Word Count: 5.8K

A/N: sorry this took so long, I had to organize an auction T.T though I loved loved loved diving more into the plot and introducing new characters! hope u like this one, angst and all xx

Warnings: girl can't catch a break, angst, mentions of family abuse, blood, violence, waterboarding, language if you squint, some fluff at the end, sorry if I missed anything!

All ACOTAR rights to the genius of Sarah J Maas✨

Upon arriving at the Winter Court, I was greeted by a too-familiar frigid air that clung to my bones, making me long for the warmth of Velaris, and by a structure before me that loomed like a minatory giant, challenging me with its sheer presence. 

The Hailstone Citadel stood majestically atop a rocky hill, its towering spires piercing the frosty air. Constructed around a grand meeting hall where the leaders of the Court gathered for official events, and made from spotless white marble with delicate veins of silver, its walls shimmered like freshly fallen snow under the pale winter sun. The battlements, adorned with intricate carvings of long-forgotten runes, were fashioned from pale blue quartzite, their surfaces glistening as if perpetually coated in a thin layer of frost. 

Inside, the grand halls were lined with smooth alabaster, casting an ethereal glow that mimicked the natural luminescence of ice. Blue calcite pillars rose to support the vaulted ceilings, their icy hue deepening the castle's wintry ambiance. Even the floors, polished to perfection, reflected the cold beauty of the surroundings, with inlaid designs of glacial stone that told tales of ancient winters. 

I stared at the mythical beasts that welcomed me, standing as majestic statues at the base of the blue pillars, symbols of the Winter Court’s strength and ferocity. Great white glacial bears, their fur eternally pristine like the marble walls, were carved to perfection. Snow griffins and frostfang wolves, their watchful gazes following my every move, guarded the halls with silent vigilance. They had always made me feel so small, as if they might jump and shred me to pieces at any second.

The entire structure exuded an icy aura, both in temperature and in its hauntingly beautiful design, perfectly encapsulating the essence of my court. I was caught off guard by the subtle shudder that thought caused.

As I made my way to the tactical wing, I felt a shiver run down my spine, and not just from the cold: a large group of soldiers greeted me with their imposing presence. Isarn might be playing the role of a vigilant warlord, but the overabundance of soldiers spoke volumes about his paranoia. Still, they were a formidable sight, their uniforms a mixture of elegance and intimidation. Each soldier wore a long, icy blue tunic of thick wool embroidered with delicate silver snowflakes. Over this they wore white, fur-lined cloaks, fastened at the shoulder with silver clasps in the shape of direwolves—the well-known beast form of our High Lord. 

Trying to shake off the thought of what Kallias would do to me if he discovered what I was doing, I shifted my attention back to the formation of the soldiers, the details of their armor gleaming in the pale light, silver breastplates intricately engraved with frost patterns and beasts, polished to a mirror-like finish that reflected the icy surroundings. 

I slightly nodded at the formation, heading to Isarn’s office. I raggedly filled my lungs and held my pendant before walking into my cursed fate. No fear. One deep breath. No hesitation. Another deep breath. I knocked once announcing myself, and opened the door.

❄❄❄❄❄❄

Isarn's office bore none of the elegance of the grand halls of the Citadel. The walls were adorned with detailed maps of Prythian, some marked by battle plans. Shelves lined one wall, filled with tomes on warfare, tactics, and the history of the Winter Court. Weapons of all kinds—swords, daggers, and axes—were meticulously displayed, the room was lit by a single obsidian chandelier, its dark crystals casting sharp light across the space. 

In the corner, a fireplace donned with a shiny grease black tile crackled with blue-tinged flames, the firelight casting eerie, flickering shadows across the room. The hearth was decorated with carvings of snarling beasts, and despite the warmth it provided, the fireplace only seemed to add to the cold, merciless atmosphere. A large desk dominated the center of the room, made of dark, polished ebony that looked almost black in the dim light. Behind it sat a high-backed chair, its design as austere and commanding as the man who occupied it. 

Despite his stature, the General's presence was overwhelming, his authority radiating with sheer force. He was a short, chubby male with skin so pale it almost appeared gray, the black ponds of ink he had for eyes missing nothing—a cold, calculating gaze that seemed to see through any facade. His gray hair, balding at the crown, was meticulously combed straight and sleek in a strict military fashion that only added to his stern demeanor. Dressed in the immaculate regalia of a warlord and topped with a prominently displayed black onyx blade, he projected an aura of intimidation and behest. I loathed this visit, though I was looking forward to hearing news of my mother.

"Sit down", he commanded in his screeching voice. 

"I’d rather stand", I spat back. An evil smile crossed his features. 

"Y/N… You’re in no position to negotiate, and I’m not in the mood for insubordination. Sit. the fuck. down". 

Prick.

My back tensed as I reluctantly sat in one of the chairs located in front of his desk, hands still in my pewter cloak’s pockets. 

"I hope, for yours and your mother’s sake, you’re not wasting my time."

I nervously looked at his chubby hands, adorned with rings shaped like bears, tapping rhythmically against his desk. Every other plump finger was wrapped in a band of platinum, a showy attempt to command respect, as if a reminder of his authority had to be displayed at all times, I thought. 

"The Night Court is heavily secured since Hybern’s attack," I began, trying to keep my voice steady. "Thanks to the Ancient One’s powers and the Cursebreaker defending the city, Hybern did not stand a chance." 

Isarn’s expression remained inscrutable as he leaned back in his chair, calculating. "Go on," he pressed, his voice a dangerous murmur.

I took a deep breath, the weight of the pendant around my neck grounding me. "Amren’s powers are… unlike anything I’ve ever heard of. She can seamlessly control mind and body, the Cursebreaker herself was impressed by her skills."

"What about that winged bastard? Did the treacherous High Lord reveal anything useful about their plans against Hybern?" he said in a mocking tone, each word a poisonous blade cutting through the tension in the room. 

I hesitated, the memory of Rhysand mentioning a book to Feyre flashing through my mind. I knew, I knew this was wrong, and I hated the thought of putting the Night Court at risk. But the desperate need to gain leverage gnawed at me. No, I couldn’t reveal this information before negotiating my mother’s release. "Where is my mother?" I asked, trying to shift the conversation.

Isarn’s eyes narrowed, and he stood, moving around his desk with the grace of a predator. "Information first," he said, his voice unyielding.

A power struggle unfolded as he circled me, each step calculated. "Your dear mother is expecting you to fulfill your side of the bargain." He hesitated for a second, carefully measuring his next words to avoid giving anything away. "And the Night Court is not your concern," he added with a tone of casual malice, as if the subject was of little importance to him. 

Interesting.

In a blink, he was beside me, and before I could react, I felt the cold touch of his onyx blade at the nape of my neck. Isarn was faster than I had anticipated, his military training evident in his swift, lethal movement.

I summoned a burst of chilling force to my upper body, just in case, trying to remain grounded. 

"Tell me… what you know," Isarn demanded, slowly pressing the blade harder against my neck.

I felt a warm liquid trickle down my back—he had pierced my skin. The pain was sharp, but the realization of my vulnerability was even more cutting. My wound was healing quickly, though the gash hurt like hell. 

He kept pressing with intent and what felt like... pleasure? I fought back tears until they finally broke. 

"I heard Rhysand and Feyre talking about a book the Ancient One is working on. It could be a weapon, I don't... I don't know anything else." 

Isarn’s smile was victorious as he released the blade from my neck. "A book?" His eyes gleamed with greed. "See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?" he taunted, his voice mocking and triumphant. Then the bastard licked my blood from the tip of the blade, never breaking eye contact. Repulsive, dishonorable, evil shred of a male. 

I forced a gag down my throat and kept an impassive expression on my face to avoid giving him a reaction, but I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I was disgusted, enraged, frustrated and tired. How much longer did we have to put up with this prick? From the moment I was recalled from the Boreal Retreat to the Citadel a few weeks ago, Isarn had made it his personal mission to humiliate me every chance he got. The Commander, Gods only knew how, had managed to convince Kallias to assign me to aid the Night Court, so I hadn't even had time to delegate my duties, and I often wondered how my patients at the Retreat were doing. 

Fortunately, a knock on the door interrupted my torment.

"Sir?" A soldier peeked his head in with hesitation and fear. He had been summoned by the Commander but clearly did not want to disturb him. He knew better than that.

"Alfson. Take the lady here to the lower chambers. Make sure she sees how her mother is being well cared for." Isarn snarled with disdain. Then he pinned me down with his resolute obsidian eyes as he reclined on his desk, their fixed stare anchoring me in place. 

"We are done here. You're to remain in the Night Court until I say otherwise, and you better not try any funny business." He tapped the ebony with his fat fingers, emphasizing the last three words. "I've got eyes and ears everywhere."

"I've got eyes and ears everywhere," I scoffed in my head. Honestly, what was his interest in the Night Court? 

What is your endgame, Commander?

A surge of strength coursed through me, a defiant fire igniting in my chest. While my resilience had always been a silent force, manifesting through actions rather than words, this newfound courage startled me. 

Before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out of my mouth.

"You mean Hybern’s?"

His head suddenly snapped up, a shadow crossing his face. Without warning, his hand lashed out, striking me across the face with a force that sent me reeling. The sting of his platinum rings bit into my skin, and before I could even touch my cheek to ease the pain, his gaze shifted to the soldier. With a slight nod and a silent command in his eyes, he conveyed his next order.

A sudden, searing pain exploded at the side of my head, and my world turned black.

The barren, snow-covered ground crunched beneath our feet as we searched for anything to stave off our gnawing hunger. It had been two weeks since my father had left us to fend for ourselves, his absences a common trial we had learned to endure. The biting wind whipped through my thin clothes, but I barely felt it, my focus solely on survival. 

I ran ahead of her, a small figure stood out a few meters away in the sea of whites and grays around us.

“Mama, look!”

We had stumbled upon a rabbit, its fragile body barely clinging to life. I looked at my mother with young, inexperienced eyes, searching in hers for an answer to the rabbit's pain, though knowing this could be our dinner. 

She knelt beside the animal, examining it with gentle hands despite the harshness of our surroundings. Her eyes, a blend of resolve and sorrow, met mine with a weight that belied her calm exterior. She cupped her hand on my left cheek, a mother's heart breaking at the lesson she was about to teach her little girl. 

"You must choose," she said gently, her voice trembling yet firm as strings of mist came out of her mouth. "Help it get better, or let it go peacefully. The decision is yours, my love."

Her tone carried not just the necessity of our survival, but a plea for understanding. 

I hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on my small shoulders. The rabbit's labored breaths filled my ears, and I felt a pang of empathy for the creature. But the growling of my stomach and the desperate look in my mother's eyes forced my hand. With trembling fingers, I reached out, knowing that this choice meant survival.

I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering my strength, then made the call. 

I snapped the flimsy neck, ending the rabbit’s suffering to provide us with a meal. The act felt heavy, its significance settling deep within me.

My mother’s gaze hardened as she stroked my hair and looked into my eyes. 

"You did good. Sometimes we must do not what our hearts desire but what our needs demand, without fear nor hesitation” 

Her words replaced the feeling of guilt and grief, they had etched themselves into my soul, becoming a cornerstone of my resilience and determination.

I bolted upright on the cold stone floor, my mother's voice echoing in my mind. The nightmare, the memory, had faded, but the longing for her warming presence remained.

As my senses returned, I realized I wasn't in my bed but in a dark, dank dungeon. The chains binding me were a deep, otherworldly blue, shimmering faintly in the dim light. Each link felt like liquid metal solidified into an unbreakable structure, wrapped tightly around my wrists and ankles. The subtle chill from their touch seeped into my bones, sapping my strength with powerful magic. 

I groaned as I tried to reach for the back of my head where an intense headache originated, pounding behind my eyes, likely from the blow Alfson had delivered in Isarn’s office. My vision was still blurry, but as I blinked rapidly trying to clear my sight, the full extent of my situation became painfully clear: I wasn't healing.

I struggled against the chains, my movements slow and sluggish. Each effort to free myself only seemed to tighten their grip. Panic began to set in, my breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. Then, amidst the silence of the dungeon, a familiar whimpering voice reached me over the ringing in my ears.

Across the cell, through the dim light and shadows, I saw her. She was huddled in a corner, her once-vibrant form now frail and broken. 

No. No, no, no–

Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized the horror of her imprisonment. Isarn hadn't been keeping her in some quarters as I had hoped; all this time, she had been held captive in a dungeon cell. 

"My child," she murmured. 

It pained me to hear her voice barely audible carrying the weight of all the suffering she had endured.

"Mama," the call came from the bottom of my heart, out to my lips, hoarse and desperate. The sight of her, more than the chains, more than the cold, more than the headache, shattered my core. I fought against the bonds with renewed desperation, my mind racing to find a way to free us both. A thousand questions swirled in my mind, and I could see the same confusion and urgency reflected in my mother's eyes.

I breathed, trying to keep my voice steady, "I've been out assisting the Night Court."

Her eyes widened, a spark of shock briefly flickering through her weariness. I wanted to tell her everything, about the beautiful city of Starlight, the people I had met, the mission I had undertaken, about my mate, but there was no time. The sound of boots echoed faintly in the background, so I continued.

"Mama, I’ve been well, but I can't talk for long," I said, my words hurried. "They're coming."

She nodded, understanding the urgency. Despite her frail state, she reached out to me as if she could hold my hand from a distance. "Bjorn," she said, her voice dry and raspy, "he's been aiding me."

Bjorn. The mention of his name brought a flood of emotions. My uncle, my mentor, the one who had always been there for us. While my father abandoned us, Bjorn had stepped in, teaching me everything I needed to know to survive in this frozen hell. As the Captain of the border forces with the Autumn Court, he had been a figure of fortitude and tenacity, walking alongside me every step of the way, from treating soldiers in makeshift tents to becoming indispensable to the court. He was more of a father to me than my own ever was. 

"He sneaks in when he can... Isarn still doesn’t know," my mother continued in a whisper, forcing a gulp. "He doesn’t know you’re related. It’s our only advantage."

I nodded, tears welling in my eyes. The thought of seeing Bjorn again gave me a glimmer of hope. I had kept it together up to this point but gods knew I needed a lifeline. 

"Do what Isarn says for now, my love. Find Bjorn. He’s been looking for you, too."

My mother fought a cough, struggling to talk. As her eyes met mine, I silently pleaded with her to stop, to save her strength, but she pressed on, defying my unspoken request. 

"He mentioned tensions at the border are growing, and that he’s been looking for a way to undermine Isarn's influence, to exploit his vulnerabilities."

The sound of boots grew louder, the guards getting closer. Panic surged through me, but I held on to my mother’s words. "We’ll get through this," I promised. "I'll find Bjorn." As soon as Isarn grows bored of this hissy fit and sends me back to Velaris.

The Mother must’ve heard my prayers, as two soldiers finally approached the cell’s gate, each carrying a large bucket filled with what looked like water, and two thick linen cloths. This couldn’t be good.

"Rise and shine, ladies," one of them sneered.

Fuck, how long had it been?

The soldiers walked into the cell with a menacing air. "This is a mercy from the General, a little reminder." one of them said, his words dripping with that characteristic malice of Isarn’s personal guard.

Before I could react, they grabbed us and forced us to the cold stone floor. The first splash of icy water hit my face like a thousand needles, the shock making me gasp for air. The cloth was pressed over my face, and the torture began.

I struggled to breathe as they poured more water on me, each inhalation bringing it into my lungs. Panic and pain overwhelmed me as I heard my mother's muffled cries close by. I fought against the restraints, desperately trying to break free, but the chains held me fast.

Just when I thought I would drown, they stopped. I laid there, coughing and gasping for breath, my body trembling. The soldiers laughed, their eyes savoring their making.

"If you don’t comply with the General’s orders," one of them said, leaning down to whisper in my ear, "or if you dare to question him again, he will personally stab you both with faebane, bathe you in cold water, and leave you out to freeze to death."

The other soldier removed the dark indigo bonds and spat on my face.

“Scum.”

But I ignored it all as I crawled towards my mother, every movement a struggle. "Mama, please," I begged, "stay with me."

Darkness was closing in, my strength fading. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was my mother’s frail form, her eyes filled with love and desperation. 

I drifted in and out of awareness as rough hands grabbed me, dragging me out of the dungeons. My body felt heavy, my limbs barely responding. Through blurred vision, I saw the dimly lit corridors of the lower levels of the Hailstone Citadel pass by, the cold seeping into my bones.

"Keep moving," one of the soldiers muttered, his grip tightening on my arm.

They hauled me through a hidden exit at the back of the citadel, into the freezing night. The biting wind stung my face, jolting me closer to full consciousness. They dragged me into the bailey, the snow crunching under their boots, until they finally dropped me unceremoniously onto the ground.

I laid there, shivering, hardly breathing. I had to move. Summoning the last of my strength to heal the tightness in my muscles, I pushed myself up, staggering towards the stables I knew were nearby. Each step was a battle as I reached a horse conveniently saddled, its breath visible in the cold air. I had always prided myself on being self-reliant, I’d been taught to never depend on a male for strength or comfort. But now, as my body temperature kept dangerously dropping, I found myself wishing for Cassian’s warmth, his strong arms wrapping around me. I held onto that feeling for solace, while focusing on mounting the animal. 

I urged the horse south, towards the Autumn Court border where I knew Bjorn was positioned. The ride was a blur of icy wind and snow-covered trees. I fought hard to stay awake and to listen to the rhythm of the horse’s gallop—it was the only thing keeping me from slipping back into unconsciousness.

When I finally reached the border at dawn, the outpost where Bjorn was stationed came into view. It was a watchpoint where the soldiers of the Winter Court kept an eye on the shifting lines between territories. Tents erected around a tall brick structure dotted the landscape as far as I could see, blending into the snow-covered ground.

A soldier approached as I dismounted, recognizing me from past encounters at the recovery camps. "Y/N," he greeted, his voice filled with concern as he saw my condition. He helped me unmount, his hands steadying me as I stumbled. 

"I have urgent business with the Captain," I muttered as I could.

The soldier nodded, understanding the urgency. "This way."

He tied the horse to a post and guided me through the site as I made my way to Bjorn's tent. The sounds and faces of the outpost, once familiar and comforting, now felt distant and blurred as if they were fading away. At last, we arrived at Bjorn's tent. The soldier stepped inside first, clearing his throat before speaking, "Captain, someone’s here to see you." I followed, my legs barely holding me up.

Bjorn turned around, shock registering on his face when he saw me. "Y/N," his voice broke, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and worry. 

I couldn't contain my tears any longer. I ran to him, collapsing into his embrace. He wrapped me around tightly in a fatherly comfort I had longed for since I left for the Night Court.

As we stood there, memories of our time together surged through my mind. I recalled the countless hours we spent in the training grounds, his voice calm and steady as he instructed me on how to hold a blade, how to keep my balance even on treacherous ice. He drilled me in the military structure of the Winter Court, ensuring I understood the hierarchy and strategies that could one day save my life. 

His patience never wavered as he guided me in harnessing my healing powers, teaching me to channel my energy and focus it precisely where it was needed. Every lesson, every word of encouragement had shaped me into who I was today. He had been there for me in my darkest moments, offering his support and wisdom when I needed it most. Our familial tie was forged in those early days of hardship, and it had only grown stronger over the years.

"I thought I'd lost you," Bjorn whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

I pulled back, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "My mother…" I pleaded, "she needs help."

Bjorn’s face set with resolve. "We’ll take care of her."

He turned and called for the soldier who had brought me to the tent. As the soldier approached, Bjorn drifted to his work table, quickly scribbling something on a piece of paper. He handed it to the soldier. "Take this to Eirik," he instructed. "He’ll know what to do."

The soldier nodded and swiftly left the tent, leaving me sighing with a sense of relief. Bjorn finally faced me, studying me with worry. 

"I look like hell, don't I?" I managed a weak smile.

Bjorn chuckled, a soft, affectionate sound. "You always did have a flair for understatement," he teased, his teal blue eyes scanning me for injuries. He quickly urged me to sit, gently helping me as I sank onto a nearby stool. As he helped me remove my wet cloak, no longer pewter but a light charcoal due to all the dirt, and my boots, he gazed at my wrists where they were still hurt. My powers were almost depleted.

When he took off my boots, he noticed the bargain tattoo. His lips pursed. "Your mother told me about..." He pointed at the tattoo with his chin. "When you left... I couldn't, I haven't forgiven myself. I should've been there for you. I'm sorry." 

I reached out for his arms, like I always did many, many times when I was younger and none of this mattered. 

"You had no way of knowing, and I won't let you carry the guilt of Isarn's doing," I whispered in our embrace.

I took a deep breath and slowly let go, still holding his hands. "I was in the Night Court, sent to work as a healer, but I was spying for Isarn. He..." I looked down at my wrists, cuts from the chains still open, "did not hold back when I returned. The moment I mentioned the King of Hybern, he snapped. I don't get it, why is he so interested in the Night Court?"

Bjorn's face hardened. "Because he’s an ambitious prick. I have spies within Isarn’s close circle. He's working with Hybern. He’s promised him the Winter Court in exchange for his help." 

He saw the blood leaving my face as my heart sank, waves of blame and dread suffocated me. 

Dear Mother. What have I done?

"Is that even possible?"

"The fool is a loyalist. He’d gladly sell his own pathetic life to bring back the days of human enslavement."

Weariness was creeping in. I hadn’t slept all night, though the gravity of the conversation was enough to keep my mind alert. 

"It gets worse," Bjorn continued. "Isarn plans to help Hybern destabilize the Night Court by kidnapping the Cursebreaker. Apparently Hybern wants to use her powers against all humans down the Wall, though we still don’t know how."

"Feyre... But why would Isarn do this?" 

Despite his cruelty, Isarn was a military commander through and through, his loyalty to the Winter Court woven into the very fabric of his being. Betrayal felt out of character.

Bjorn's eyes locked into mine, his demeanor to the brink of desperation. "Isarn has long harbored resentment towards Lady Viviane for commanding the Winter Court armies during Under the Mountain. He felt..." 

The soldier that brought me to the tent interrupted, bringing two steaming bowls of stew, the savory aroma filling the tent. 

"This might not be a feast, but it'll keep you going," he remarked while he offered me a shy smile, approaching me with a bowl.

Ever the overprotective parent, Bjorn grabbed both from his hands, dismissing the soldier with a nod, and continued. 

"He felt small and undermined—no surprises there." He winked at me conspiratorially. I would have laughed at the joke if the guilt within me wasn't drowning me.

"Especially after discovering Lady Viviane's leadership role. His supposed captivity by Hybern was a ruse; he was collaborating with them all along."

I felt a sickening twist in my gut. I lowered my head into my hands, resting them on my legs, overwhelmed by exhaustion and frustration, and unable to process any more information. Telling Isarn about the book had been a mistake. A grave mistake. But I couldn't burden Bjorn with the weight of my call, I'd rather keep him focused on my mother's well-being. Then there's the safety of my mate… I had to fix this. I knew what I had to do. 

"I have to go back to the Night Court." I uttered with a stammer. 

Bjorn's eyes blanked with a resolve that startled me, he’d seen right through me and instantly knew my intentions. He stood up and started pacing around the tent. 

"If you plan to share any information about Isarn and his plans with the Night Court, you need to be prepared, Y/N.”

He was right. If I approached Rhysand and Feyre, laying out everything I knew about Isarn while also proposing a solution, they could not only be warned but might also offer resources and intelligence to our advantage, in a joint effort. A pang of gratitude hit my core when I realized that, in the rush of the moment, Isarn wasn’t too specific with the terms of the bargain. 

A fool, indeed. This might just work. 

I felt a hint of pride in my chest.

"Not bad for an old captain," I winked at him, and replied with a smirk when I shared my conclusion. 

"I'll need to devise a plan that ensures Isarn can't retaliate. If I can present them with a strategy to counter his, they may be able to support us."

Bjorn agreed, his expression serious. 

"Exactly. They have as much at stake as we do."

He slowly leaned towards me, placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes, his gaze full of emotion. I knew this moment would come once more, the moment we part without knowing when we’ll see each other again, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. It seemed like all we had now were these fleeting moments, and there was still so much I wanted to share with him.

"You can do this, Y/N. But remember, you must keep up the facade with Isarn until the very end. Any slip, and he will come down on you hard. On both of you.”

"I understand," I said firmly, taking his calloused hands in mine. 

Then he searched my eyes for the tenacity he'd taught me to maintain in these situations, and found another emotion seeping in instead.

A longing for the male I'd been relentlessly pushing away, leaving him behind at the Night Court.

"Alright, spill it, child. What’s going on?" Bjorn pressed, his gaze unwavering.

I hesitated, my thoughts a whirlwind. I wanted to tell him about Cassian, but how could I explain this to Bjorn when Cassian himself didn't know about the mating bond? Not that I was planning to tell him either. 

The risk of exposing such a deeply personal truth made me feel incredibly vulnerable. Still, I wanted him to know. I needed his guidance and support, now more than ever.

"I..." I started, struggling to find the right words. "There’s someone at the Night Court. Someone... important to me."

Bjorn's thick eyebrows burrowed, but he waited patiently for me to continue.

"I think... I think I've found my mate. He's very well known and a person of trust in the Night Court. He doesn't know though, about the bond."

Bjorn's lips drew a line. 

Oh, Gods. 

I hadn't been this nervous since the first time I met Kallias. I forced a swallow down my throat and continued, the words coming out of my mouth in a hurried tirade like a child who had been caught being naughty.

"I cannot, will not risk this mission for a male I barely know, though," I continued, determination hardening my voice despite the pounding in my heart. "There's too much at stake, and I need to focus on what matters now."

Bjorn’s lips twitched, and for a moment, I saw the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. 

"So, you’re just telling me now that you found your mate?" he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "And here I thought you were keeping all your secrets from me."

Despite the tension, a small smile crept across my face as I lowered my chin and looked at my bare foot. "It's not like that."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I know, child. I’m just teasing. But seriously, a mate? And an important one in the Night Court, no less,” his hands reaching his hips. “You sure know how to pick them."

I mentally sighed as all the light-hearted taunting eased some of the anxiety gnawing at my insides. 

"I didn’t exactly choose this, you know." 

Bjorn’s expression turned more serious, though the warmth didn’t leave his eyes. "I admire your determination, Y/N. And I’m happy for you, really. But you need to be cautious. Especially if he’s a significant figure in the Night Court."

He elbowed me with complicit eyes, "Can I know who this significant other, I mean, figure is?"

I rolled my eyes, tempted to fall into more of his tease but instead I hesitated, thinking about the answer. 

"You’ll know, Bjorn. In time. If everything goes well after Isarn is dealt with. For now, we move forward with the plan."

Bjorn nodded, understanding the boundary. "Fair enough. Just promise me you’ll be careful. And be smart. Remember your training."

"I promise," I said, knowing that I would cling to those words when the moment demanded it. I stood there for a moment, trying to hold on to this precious instant with him. His concern for me was evident, and it mirrored the worry I felt for him. 

"Good," he replied with a reassuring smile. Bjorn’s blue eyes softened as he pulled me into a tight embrace. The familiar scent of mist and pine enveloped me, grounding me in the moment. 

“Please be strong, petal,” he murmured, his tone carried a hue of anguish. I nodded against his shoulder, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall upon hearing the affectionate nickname he’d given me since I was a child. “I will.”

We pulled back slightly, our hands still clasped together. His rough palms were a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I looked into his eyes again and recognized the unspoken devoted love that had always been there. 

"This isn't goodbye," I said softly, squeezing his hands. "Please keep her safe. Who knows, the next time we meet I may bring some allies, Mother willing."

"I'll hold you to that. Now go," he held my chin up gently, with a caress. "Go back to the Night Court and show them what you're made of," his eyes shone with affection. 

With a final nod, I gathered my now somewhat-dry cloak, and some clean clothes and supplies for the journey he'd packed for me. 

Before I walked out of the tent, he called after me.

"He better be good with a sword."

I hid a grin, knowing the answer. "Something like that."

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dividers by @estrelinha-s

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi, can I request RoR? In Philippine Mythology?

Human Reader, a single mother of quadruplets, 2 boys and 2 girls, look like normal human babies, but if harm/hurt their loving human mother, they'll turn into a Tiyanak…

In Philippine mythology: The Tiyanak is a vampiric creature in Philippine mythology that takes on the form of a toddler or baby. Although there are various types, it typically takes the form of a newborn baby and cries in the jungle to attract unwary travelers. Once it is picked up by an unfortunate passerby, it reverts to its true form and attacks the victim. The tiyanak is also depicted to take malevolent delight in leading travelers astray, or in abducting children…

Various speculations on how Tiyanaks came to be range from babies born dead in the forest to the Catholic-influenced unbaptized stillborn infants, and later extended to vengeful murdered infants and aborted fetuses…

In local belief, various countermeasures are supposedly effective against the tiyanak. Those that were led astray by the creature's cries are believed to be able to break the enchantment by turning their clothes inside out. The tiyanak finds the method humorous enough to let go of the traveler and go back to the jungles. Loud noises such as a New Year's celebration are also thought to be enough to drive the tiyanak away from the vicinity. Objects believed to repel Aswang (vampiric shape-shifters), like garlic and the rosary rosemary are also commonly believed to be effective against the tiyanak. It's also believed that giving a name to these lost souls will bring them peace, and offering a white candle will help guide their spirit to the afterlife…

Reader's story goes like this: (You may change it if you want)

She's living in an abusive/forced marriage, she's been mistreated/used by her own family & by her husband and his family, who's rich or from a higher social hierarchy than her family, and no one can help her…

When she finds out she's pregnant, even though she's carried the children who she hates and gets mistreated by, she loves them, and she plans to raise her kids, & to escape far away from the people who mistreat her…

When she finally escapes while pregnant, she knows the risks and she'll do everything to keep her babies safe, as she's running away, her family and her husband are after trying to stop her even by shooting at her…

When she's in the wooded area (forest/jungle), trying to hide but she's caught by her husband, and he proceeded to hurt/beat her until she didn't move, her husband thought he kill her and then he leaves her bleeding…

As she is about to lose her conscious, she saw her bleeding from her legs, and she thought that her babies are dead and it's her fault and pleads to whoever is out there to save her babies, she's mourning & saying sorry to her babies & that she's a bad mother, as she loses her conscious, she saw a blur two figures coming towards…

She woke up in a house and thought that her babies are dead. a woman came to her, comforting Reader that she and the babies are well (which Reader is about to lash out) and the husband came and saw he struggling to carry 4 crying babies, that they look exactly like Reader, and he gave the babies back to Reader and Reader crying that her babies are fine…

As she recovers, she's found out that her babies did die and then became a Tiyanak and also founds out that the couples, who helped her & her babies, are mythical creatures (the Man's Syokoy and Woman's Sirena from Philippine Mythology) and they're are others or residents lives nearby and they're from the Philippine Mythology, like Kapre, Tikbalang, Duwende, & even some hostile/neutral, like Mananangal or aswang…

As she's lives and adapts to her new home and in motherhood to her babies and some mythical residents, they became friends and almost like family, as they taught her anything to do/learn (household, survival, etc.) including some mythical creatures, they became caring & protective & willing to do anything for Reader and her kids' safety and home…

One day, Reader meets (character) through her children as he's wandering around, then he and Reader get along with each other, as he and her kids are getting along as well and they consider him as their dad and the Mythical creatures met him, they get along (as they threatened him if he hurt Reader and/or her babies)…

Then Reader's abusive husband & family came back to a wooded area, where Reader and her babies live, going to destroy it for their business plan, when they're about to start it, the husband/family saw Someone, thought it's Reader, but their stopped by something else, by (character) & some mythical creatures that reside at the wooded area, in there unseen/invisible form, using their abilities to stop them and made them to never come back…

Yandere: Adamas, Beezelbub, Hades, Shiva (w/ his wives & son), Rudra, Loki, Buddha, Hercules

-The pain you bore is one that you never wanted your babies to carry the pain of abuse from your cruel husband and his family, who believed that you were basically a slave, not caring if you carried his children or not.

-You didn’t love your husband, but you loved your babies, despite them being in your belly still, and you didn’t want them to be born into pain. You had thought about killing yourself and killing them many times, so they would be safe, not caring about your own life.

-You had a chance, only once, to run and you took it, running deep into the forest, clutching your aching and bruised body, wounds old and new flaring from the strain.

-You felt yourself slip down a shallow ravine and your heart leapt to your throat and that’s all you remembered before everything went black.

-When you awoke, a man and a woman, kind people, were there for you, and your hands immediately went to your belly, a gasp leaving you, “My babies!” you went to stand but her hand was firm but gentle on your shoulder, keeping you down.

-The man disappeared for a moment as the woman sat beside you on the bed, “Your babies are safe, as are you.” Your eyes widened before her husband reappeared, holding four squirming babies, struggling to do carry them all as tears of relief welled in your eyes.

-Your babies all seemed to immediately settle down once in your arms as you wept quietly, peppering their faces with kisses, thanking your two saviors over and over again.

-The couldn’t help but smiling, sharing a small glance between the two of them, happy to see that you were all right. You looked up at them, holding your babies close, “Thank you for saving my babies! Thank you both so much!”

-You were confused as their faces fell and the woman took her seat next to you again, petting your hair gently, “Y/N, your babies didn’t make it. They are Tiyanak now.” Your eyes went wide in surprise, hearing this, as you looked down at your babies, but you didn’t care, you just smiled, pressing more kisses onto their heads.

-The man introduced himself and told you that he was a Syokoy, and the woman was a Sirena, both creatures of myth and legend, just as your babies were now, and that the five of you were now safe in their little village, a village of other mythological creatures, leaving you the only human.

-You were hesitant, but those around you didn’t really bother with you, as they had learned of your past, learned of the abuse from your family and what you did to escape, putting yourself and your babies at risk, but they respected you, seeing you as a mother wanting to keep her babies safe.

-There were some creatures in this village that warned you only once to keep your distance from them, which you respected, and in turn they left you be, despite their aversion to humans.

-Your babies were quick to grow, much faster than normal babies, but they always remained close to you, making sure you were safe and your new friends allowed you to live alongside them, building you a house and in turn they taught you how to hunt and survive, so you could provide for yourself and your children.

-You weaved baskets for the members of your village, giving back to them in any way you could, as you wanted to repay their kindness in letting you stay safe, and many admired you for that, seeing your kind heart, you weren’t like other humans.

-It was two years later when your children, who could change their forms to look like babies or like five-year-olds, came back pulling a new friend. Initially you were scared, as you were always terrified your family would come back for you.

-However, this wasn’t a human, this was a god, as Sirena was able to confirm this. You were respectful but a little nervous being in the presence of a god, but he was nothing but kind to you, seeing you for what you truly were, a scared and damaged woman, but a woman who would work hard and do anything to provide for her family.

-He was so gentle with your children, playing with them and you slowly relaxed, sitting with him and just like your children, he was quick to befriend you as well.

-He was nothing like your husband or his family, he was so kind to you, treating you like you were delicate, but also treating you with respect. You later learned from your babies that they and many of the other citizens of your village had threatened him, daring him to try anything ill willed against you.

-(Love) learned from your babies and your friends about your past, learning how cruelly you had been treated and how you ran and now working to provide for your family while living alongside creatures that nobody would probably ever see, unless if they were die immediately after, leaving no witnesses.

-This drove (Love) to be a bit more protective of you, accompanying you when you went into the forest to forage for herbs, fruits, and nuts, being on guard while you weren’t safe in the village, something your children noticed.

-It took some time for you to open up, as you were terrified at the thought of being in a relationship again, as you didn’t want a repeat of what happened, but there was something about (Love), you could tell that he would never hurt you, or your children.

-You were in the forest, (Love) and your children nearby, playing as you were collecting some berries when a twig snapped and you heard a voice you never wanted to hear again, “Y/N?! Where have you been?”

-You looked up in horror, seeing your ex-husband and his family and many other humans, going through the forest as they were looking for areas to clear out to build a new business.

-You had no time to think or run, but you didn’t have to, as (Love) immediately ran forward, scooping you up into his arms, turning you and tossed you into Sirena’s arms and she disappeared into the forest with you.

-You clung to her, tears in your eyes, “My babies- where are my babies?” she shushed you, making it back to the village that now seemed eerily empty, everyone had rushed to where you had been moments prior, hearing your babies sound out the alarm.

-She held you close, trying to calm you, “(Love) and my husband are with them, they will all be safe.” You sniffled softly, remaining on guard until your babies flew into the village, “Mama!”

-You melted, accepting their hug, holding them close as (Love) and the others all returned, all looking quite pleased with themselves. You didn’t want to ask, but (Love) saw your curiosity and he just gave you a small smile, “They’ll never bother you again, and they will never enter this forest again.”

-You thanked him and he just smiled, tapping his cheek for a kiss for payment, which made you giggle and you gave him one before your children shoved him out of the way, telling you they wanted kisses too, which made you laugh softly.

-You would never find out the truth of your ex-family ‘never coming back’, you just thought they had been scared and would never enter the forest again, that wasn’t true, but they would all keep that secret, to keep you safe.

-You were so unique, especially for a human, but he adored you for that, and seeing what a kind and gentle mother you were, it wasn’t hard to fall for you. He can see your hesitance about getting closer, but he doesn’t mind waiting, he’s got all the time in the world and is happy to wait for you at your own pace. Loves your children, finds them funny, mischievous, but very sweet and protective of you, and he has no issues become their new father figure if that is what you wish, because he knows your children will side with you, no matter what, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t help him sway your opinion a bit. Respects you and demands others, mainly other humans, to do the same, as he knows those in the village you live in, while all of them may not like you, they at least respect you because you respect them.

            -Hercules, Rudra, Shiva, Loki, and Buddha

-Had absolutely no issues getting rid of your ex-family, he did it himself personally, wanting to make sure it was done and make sure that all the suffering you had to endure was given back to them, ten-fold. He adores you, finding you fresh and full of life, but not annoying, you are a light in his life and he wants to protect that light, and he has no issues doing whatever he needs to do to make sure that happens. Adores you and your children, respects you about your aversion to entering into a relationship, but he has no issues showing you how safe you would be with him but isn’t pushy, he wants you to come to him. He finds your children charming and doesn’t mind them in the slightest and quite enjoys being a father figure to them, as he shows you that subtly as well, showing you that he’s a provider for them.

-Adamas, Beelzebub, and Hades

[subway-boss-jericho]

Queuing posts for most of my AUs! Check out this Masterpost! (Disclaimer! - Please don't comment about their iconic knife bangs! I left them off this reference to keep their faces fully visible.)

The Whole World Is Against You

-Premise- With the way world events have gone in the last decade, regional powers are on high alert for any kind of fanatics that might seek to abuse the power of legendary and mythical pokemon.

So, when several gym leaders, champions, and battle facility heads start to catch wind that Emmet has some highly dangerous, highly illegal plans to try and get his brother back... It's a race. Will they catch Emmet before he causes something potentially devastating, no matter his intentions? Or will he evade them long enough to get his hands on the power to travel through time and space?

As far as Emmet is concerned, the question isn't how, only when. He's going to get his brother back, and he has many, many different contingency plans to do it. Is the world's reaction unreasonable? Yes. Well, no. Not at all. But Emmet is not the same as all of those evil leaders, he will be different and do things safer. He'll prove it. No law is going to stop him, and no human nor pokemon is going to catch him.

-Noteworthy Points- Emmet is not trying to be morally questionable. He's still quite upstanding, and cares a lot about following the rules. Which is why he is going to be CAREFUL! It's not like he WANTS to use legendary power to destroy things! but these rules are between him and his twin, and he will not let that be.

He has all of their team members with him and on his person at all times, which is at least 14 pokemon. He struggles to give them all the attention they need, but they know and understand this. They all knew if Emmet put them in the PC box that he probably wouldn't be able to get them back- Including Emmet. But he still gave them the choice, and they all refused. They're in this together.

-Links- Currently none! I will update this post with links to comics/art/writing if/when I post any!

[rist-ix]

The sparxshipping teasing from Iginio got me wondering.... if we ever did get canon sparxshipping explored, whether in a reboot or new adaptation, how would you like it for it to be done?

I'm gonna try to answer both of these in one post cause they overlap a little, but first of all thank you!

Buckle up fellas I'm bringing discourse.

This is gonna be a bit of an unpopular opinion I think, and it’s that I don’t want sparxshipping to be canon at all.

Feel free to get the pitchforks, but until then imma talk. I have villainships that I think not only add something to the overall plot, they kind of define it too. Reylo for examples, with its themes of redemption, masks and compassion, or Darklina and how important their relationship is to the war and Grisha oppression, or Lotor and Allura with its symbolism of breaking the cycle of abuse, making peace, reclaiming a heritage thought lost and so on.

To put it very briskly: an established Sparxshipping relationship adds nothing to the plot. It would have to be a plot of its own, and while there are tons of fascinating plot threads you could weave back into Domino, Bloom's family and the war before the Fall, it is simply, plainly, and rightfully so not the story Winx Club is telling.

Winx Club, at its core, is about the girls and their friendship. That is the show I love, and that is the show I am invested in. Fanfiction is a separate thing, I’ll get into that later. But canon, commercially produced and globally aired Winx Club is what we are talking about now. And the one defining truth of Winx Club is that it’s about the Winx. Their boyfriends are the side note, the Kens to their Barbies, to cement them as the cool popular teenagers younger kids are supposed to see them as. If Bloom and Valtor had a lasting serious relationship, Valtor would inevitably have to be shoved into that category as well, and that would ruin the entire appeal of him.

To boil it down even more: if sparxshipping were canon, either Winx Club would have to shift away from its intrinsic premise and formula, or Valtor would have to be diminished beyond recognition. So my longstanding opinion has always been: don’t make sparxshipping canon. Just don’t.

What I, personally, would do if I were ever to gain access to the mythical and likely overcrowded writing room at Rainbow SpA, is this:

Tease the fuck out of it.

Lean into their fucked up little hate-obsession. Every time they share the screen they have to be radiating unresolved sexual tension. Their chemistry has to be so off-the-charts it sparks a million fanfics before the season even ends. If there aren’t so many crappy amv's set to angsty Taylor swift songs it brings down the YouTube servers by midnight you have failed. Because canon is bound to certain limits, but fanfiction is NOT. The goal of any show should be to create something that will awaken an inescapable need to build on it, to continue where it left off, or to wonder but-what-if? To make people text incoherent keysmashes to their fandom buddies with shaky hands in the middle of the night and be unable to sleep until they’ve confirmed their buddy has seen it too.

I would want to see Bloom go fully I-have-lost-sight-of-everything-but-revenge until her friends manage to pull her back, I would want them to fight so vehemently the structures around them collapse and they don’t even notice. They should be in situations where they are UNDENIABLY going to die if they fight on and they still do it, they literally CANNOT stop, they don’t care to. To the point that everyone around them is seriously concerned and talking about their terrifying obsession with each other, more or less out in the open. And after a season full of epic fight scenes, high stake conflicts and frankly obscene tension between them, I would want Bloom to kill him.

Straight up.

Give her that moment of calm self assurance, at peace and perfectly in control, while Valtor tries to gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss his way out of this, contrasting the way her support network and genuine, unconditional friendships strengthen her while Valtor, who is always sabotaging everyone around him, is forced to confront his own powerlessness in the face of the power that created him. His manipulation attempts have nothing to latch on to. They have one last exchange where Valtor is visibly furious at her denial of him / his own failure — to really drive home that this is Bloom's triumph — but the last words they exchange are cordial. Maybe a comment at her growth, or a warning about his mothers, or another way to foreshadow future threats — if he couldn’t defeat her, no one should. He ends on a high note, but he does end, and it’s at Bloom's hands. She retakes the corrupted spark into the Flame she is guarding, and that is that.

And then, and this is important. He fucking haunts her for the entire next story arc. The next season, the next two seasons maybe, because she has learned a fuck ton of things from him and it is really, really difficult to move on knowing everything she does, knowing everything he implied or hinted at, or simply knowing so many really, really cruel ways to get her way now, which isn’t who she wants to be, but it would be easy, quick and effective for the greater good, right?

Boom, character conflict for the next season established, lots of potential for future flashbacks or visions, Valtor stays on his high horse of forever-the-juiciest-fucking-villain-of-the-franchise and the story can move on.

The End

Cue three decades of mind-blowing fanfiction. We all say Thank you Rainbow and cry ourselves to sleep thinking about what could have been.

[linguist-in-a-blanket]

I saw so many BBC Ghosts fans here trashing the American version that I finally gave up and watched the original.

Well, thanks, I hate it.

Some of the plots were more amusing, yes. I personally liked how the sister story played off. I mean, when in American version we see Jo from Mythic Quest show up with that "nice" smile for one episode, we know what's up from the first second. When it's a seemingly genuine woman who has a couple of episodes to actually earn Alison's and our trust, it's much better. I also liked most of the ones that didn't make it into the remake.

But the core of this premise is characters. And British characters... They're just bad, I'm sorry, they're bad. They are all one note! There is no arc for anybody! Even the most annoying one, Thomas! His whole thing is that he doesn't know what boundaries or consent are, and this goes on for five seasons! Come on, man! Trevor in the American version has charisma, and he comes a long way in just 2 and half seasons we've seen him. This all really makes up for him being a huge jerk: at least he's a lovable jerk, plus he changes. Julian is not lovable at all, Thomas never changes, he's the same since episode 1 till the finale one. Why should we care about two one-note jerks? Flower has a lot about herself aside from being not-all-here: sex-drive, pacifism, commitment issues, basketball, backstories about at least three close people from her life (two boyfriends and brother)... Kitty is just a stupid cutie who is not-all-here, nothing else.

And this drives me to my next point. Such one-note characters without any development simply cannot have a deep connection. Nobody likes each other in this show. I've seen a lot of takes that American ghosts and Sam are friends, while British ghosts and Alison are family. Well, if you mean an abusive family that you can't get away from, that never gives you any good feelings, sure. But do we really need that? Whom of the ghosts does Alison actually like? She hates Thomas and Fanny (never has this realization about her unrealized motherly feelings, and Fanny herself never realizes why she is like she is and how she can change), she doesn't understand Robin (after spending a day with him and learning what he knows, she just gives him to Fanny as a pet), at the very best she pities Kitty. The only one who actually likes Alison as a person is Kitty, but she has her own projections, she is like a duckling who saw the first person near them and said "mommy". She's actually not much better than Thomas in that way, same level of neediness and clinginess, just more lovable than him, and it's not sexual harrassment, more... platonic harrassment? Yay?..

By the way, Alison also doesn't change. Whenever she sees a new ghost in a new place, she is creeped out. This was okay in the beginning, but after living in a house with 9+ ghosts for a couple of years, she is still creeped out by others! Oh, I'm so sorry for your inconvenience, mam, this guy just, you know, didn't have anybody to see him or talk to him in a couple of centuries, but no, no big deal, sure. Sam is fascinated by her gift, she is always happy to explore and talk to new ghosts, Alison just finds it weird and unsettling, even after, what, five years? Girl, you are a fucking superhero! Talk to the invisible people, damn you!

Sure, it could be about not being able to change, especially after you're dead, but then... why? Why should we look at bad people who stay bad, and most importantly, why should we look at them for five seasons?

When Alison weighed pros and cons for staying, she put "ghosts" in both columns. I'm sorry, but why? We almost never see her enjoying their company, almost never see the ghosts helping her (which is petty, but when American ghosts did this for Sam a couple of first times, that's when she warmed up to them)... They are always an incovenience for Alison. Never do they respect any boundaries, all they can do is do one big gesture (song, dance, theater) and move on to being annoying and needy. Never can they hear "no", never can they respect what she asks of them.

Sam says a lot of times she can't leave the ghosts, and I believe her. Even Jay loves the American ghosts! Sam has this whole group of friends and enjoys their company. They all have connections with each other and with the livings. British don't, they move in a pack and look for somebody to annoy, be that Alison or that poor neighbor ghost.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

I don’t know how y’all are feeling, but I’m so grossed out by streamers right now

So I’m going to give you some smaller youtube creators to watch who are so fun, and not owned by a studio that is refusing to pay their workers.

Watcher Media - Do you like ghost hunting, puppets, and food? These three former Buzzfeed employees started their own video company and they are a true delight. Shane, Stephen and the Bergooz talk about ghosts, history, food, and murder. Worth a watch!

Tasting History - Max Miller, former Disney employee, started a food history podcast that teaches you about what people ate in ye olde times, and why. You can tell how passionate he is about his subject matter. A very chill time.

Mythical Kitchen - Do you like gremlins and food and gremlins who make food? That’s basically Mythical Kitchen. It is Good Mythical Morning’s bizarre, anxious kid sibling who may have sniffed bath salts last night, but has the best of intentions. If Nicole didn’t constantly remind him that it would kill him, I’m pretty sure Josh would eat wood glue.

Disney Dan - If you’re a Disney human, Disney Dan is a great way to scratch that itch. He does deep dives into park costumes and touring show costumes, including some deeply terrifying showings from the dawn of Disneyland. He’s so much fun. He has a great laugh, and you can tell he’s having such a good time.

Defunctland - Short form documentaries about all sorts of both well-known, and very little known subjects in pop culture. He does such compelling work. I cannot recommend this channel enough.

Ask a Mortician - Do you think about dying, and the ethics of the death industry? Get onboard with the Order of the Good Death. There is something really interesting and refreshing about death positivity, or, being well informed about the industry that your family will invariably have to deal with once you die. Being unafraid to tackle the idea that we all gotta go sometime, and we can make good choices about what happens to our bodies when that happens. 

Be Kind, Rewind - A super solid Hollywood history channel, tackling a lot of topics pertaining to women in the industry.

Fundie Fridays - I knew nothing about fundamentalist religion before I started watching this channel. Jenn and James are so informative, and they do their best to show empathy to those who truly need it amongst subjects that are truly horrifying sometimes. TW for information about sexual abuse and other disturbing subjects, but so informative and so important to know.

Food Wishes - Join Chef John as he cooks up delicious dishes. So chill. Such good vibes.

Demystifying Chinese Cooking - Traditional Chinese food is an entire world all it’s own, and you should know about it!

Girl with the Dogs - Canadian Animal Groomer who tells you all about the breeds she grooms, and also how to handle difficult animals with compassion and safety. She also uses a lot of her funds from youtube to give free grooms to animals in need, and promote animal adoption.

Shipwrecked - They describe themselves as stupidly smart comedy, and that’s very true. They’re an indie film company, creating historical fiction that is really lovely and funny.

Kittenlady - Hannah and Andrew run Orphan Kitten Club, a non-profit dedicated to caring for abandoned neonatal kittens. They’ve been doing a lot of traveling to learn about kitten and cat care around the world, and shine a spotlight on shelters and colony caretakers internationally.

I could literally go on forever. But these are the ones that are super standout for me at least right now!

[des8pudels8kern]

Trope:

Your self-sacrificial idiot much respected General is working himself to the bone and refuses to rest. Something something the Force will sustain him. And you are grateful he cares so much about you and your brothers, so grateful, but you also care about him, so you do what any 2IC (who is both stuck in the madness that is this war and at this point certain there is nothing he could do that would cause his General to have him sent back to Kamino) would do - you confer with your chief medic and get a little something-something to put into your General's tea to help him rest.

It works great.

You even get to tuck your General into bed/the vod cuddle pile. All very professionally, of course.

Angsty twist #1:

Apparently your sheltered, pre-war Temple-raised Jedi General has significant enough trauma about Force suppressors that taking away his access to the mythical power he's been abusing as a stimulant doesn't cause him to fall into normal, baseline-human exhausted sleep, as both you and your medic assumed, but rather a very unrestful, flashback-fuelled panic attack you need to contain without hurting him or letting him hurt anyone, kriff kriff kriff.

Angsty twist #2:

Your General stops drinking the tea you give him. Or the food you set down next to his pad on his desk. The snacks you offer during a drawn-out meeting. Even the ration you try to push on him during a lull in a battle that has been going on for too long already.

You try to apologize, but he won't have it, because "I do not blame you that I made the mistake of letting my guard down. Never fear; it won't happen again."

You didn't realise how rare a gift his trust was, and now that you've lost it you don't know how to get it back. All you wanted was for him to get some rest.

The emerging comfort after the hurt:

"I don't know, vod. Have you tried grovelling?"

"I don't think grovelling is gonna cut it."

"Very helpful. What would you do, then?"

"I would never do this to Aayla in the first place!"

"You know, Bly's got a point here."

"..."

"No, no, don't you see: If this is how your General, who managed to survive a decade with Rex' General--"

"Hey!"

"--without losing his mind or his cool, reacts like this, then clearly this isn't equivalent to a nice little sedative that's safe to use on our Jedi, so why do we even have that stuff in the first place?"

"To subdue a Sith?"

"Have you ever met a Sith? None of them are going to accept any food we offer them, and, if you tried to go near them with a dropper full of Force suppressant, they'd probably rip your entire arm off with their teeth, armour or not. The only way to subdue them is to either overpower them through sheer manpower and wrangle cuffs on them, or catch them while they are knocked out, and then you might as well go with the cuffs, too - those don't need reapplying every couple of hours to stay effective."

"Uhm, guys? I just looked up - Cody, I need you to stay calm now - I just looked up chemical force suppression, and all of that stuff is classified at least as a Class II neurological poison and banned in the Republic--"

"Why are our GAR ships stocked with poison that is illegal in the Republic?"

"---because--"

"How did the financing for that pass the Senate?"

"--because of its detrimental effects on the Force user, since it doesn't just block the user's ability but degrades it. Cody. Cody, you need to. Cody. I know. I know, vod."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"I want it off my ship."

"Pretty sure we all want it off our ships."

"We need a plan."

"Step one: Swear our medics to secrecy and get them to scour medical for every last drop of that stuff and shoot it into the nearest star. Step two: Figure out who put it there in the first place."

[nonbinaryeye]

One thing I really love about Disco Elysium is how it subverts your expectations based on stereotypes and clichés you've learnt to expect from media.

There are the Hardie boys. Obvious first suspects and vigilanties given questionable authority by the Union and what more do they appear at the first glance than some mean boys gang. Except they *are* trying to make Martinaise better and safer place and they are willing to help their neighbours and people who seek refugee there - that's what the arranged lynching was about in the end. And yes their remarks are still sexist, they do not hesitate to use brutal force (I was testing what if I chose the worst option and they killed me and Kim on like three separate occasions). But also they could quite easily be abusing the power they have.

There is Evrat Claire fitting into evil fat ceo stereotype and you expect to learn that he does not really care about his workers and that the whole Union strike and getting benefits for the workers is some evil scheme but no! Turns out he really wants the Union to work out and he fights for his workers. He is using his influence to prevent organized crime and build up infrastructure and he cares about people of Martinaise - enough to create superficial job for René, enough to fund education for Elizabeth. And he is still not a best person. He is trying to bribe Harry. He does not hesitate to get rid of threats to his goals. His plans for Fishing village are not good either. And his refusal to acknowledge the danger mercenaries poses is questionable at best.

There is Cuno, delinquent kid screaming slurs at you and you expect him to be more of one gimmick character that is there just to make place feel more alive but you can actually bond with him and learn not only about his life and domestic abuse but also about his hobbies and you would not expect him to be your companion but there he can be if you fail to save Kim and you can recruit him to RCM.

There is Insulindian Phasmid. Mythical creature that is obviously fake and how ridiculous would it be to really believe in its existence? You expect all the mission surrounding it to be just a treasure hunt in vain that is really not about the Phasmid and more about relantionship of Lena and Morrell but no. The Phasmid is very much real and you can encounter it and it is much bigger and smarter than you would expect even if you did believe in its existence.

And then there is of course Kim Kitsuragi, your partner from precinct 57 and where can one even begin to describe all the contradictions Kim is? He just fits into that boring and very serious cop who is there to serve as your foil and hold you back and guide you and who will always be polite and kind. But no, he is genuinely funny and mean. He will not coddle you he just wants to do his job. He will not hesitate to call you on your bullshit but also he can play along with whatever scheme you are attempting. And he is actually very competitive and he can be silly and he is willing to agree even to some of your straight out crazy ideas. But he does care about you and he is quite amused by some of your stereo investigations. And when you learn about his past you understand why he always tris to keep up his perfect composure. And I will rather stop here because there is just so much to say about Kim.

I could go on and on I do not even know where to begin with our player character Harry and the journey of discovering who he is, who he was and who he could be. I could just keep listing characters and what are you supposed to notice about them at first and who you are supposed to assume they are in contrast what you can actually learn about them as you progress. And, yes, sometimes things are as they appear and the Racist Lorry Driver is just a racist and a lorry driver.

The point is you should never judge others based on the first impression even if they are just video game characters who appear to be cardboard cutout of overused cliché.

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Stolitz that actually can be wholesome for helluva boss turn to be representation of every yaoi couple we got victim x abuser in manhwa and manga. Stolitz but actual conversation

Stolas: Hello blitz

Blitz: Hello your highness

Stolas: Stolas will be just fine

Blitz: So why do you call?

Stolas: Why don't we have dinner

Blitz: Sounds good but uhh fancy thing is not my thing

Stolas: Come on blitz it will be fun

Blitz: Ok i take the dinner but not fancy ok

Stolas: Alright as you wish and also remember you better be careful going to human world you can be really get in trouble

Blitz: Dammit i forgot about that thank you for the reminder

Stolas: Blitz i remind you to he really careful if you get caught by the archangel or archdemon you will be in serious trouble with that i can't saved you

Blitz: I know

Stolas: Blitz i have some suggestion the cyrstal they can be really helpful for you but it won't be cheap

Blitz: I know the last time i just loan the cyrstal it cost my employee salary for few months

Stolas: Also i need the book for my job it contain very important thing in there

Blitz: I know maybe i can get enough money for the cyrstal

Stolas: You know you could just ask me

Blitz: No i can do it by myself

Stolas: Suit yourself

Yep this is much better. No icky coursing and Stolas seems like what his mythical self is which is give suggestions.

[wishmaker-astra]

Pelipper Mail! A brochure

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Come and MAKE SOME COOL FRIENDS at the Aether Society!! ♡♡

GET PROTECTION!♡ GET KNOWLEDGE!♡ GET SMARTER!♡

The Aether Society has acknowledged your situation and abilities and would like to further contact you regarding a collaboration and/or meeting to better understand happenings of this nature. Please contact us at @aethersocietyofficial for more information.

Be ready for our Steller Revival

Just going to be posting this here as a general PSA:

This is either an edgy teen, or the most fucking annoying corporate PR ever. Maybe off chance of a BITE model group. You will notice the fact it's attempting to appeal to relieving feelings of low self esteem combined with monetary and protection benefits. All wrapped up in language designed to be a bit harder to read as that from the phrasing and text coloration.

They claim to be about carrying out the "true desires of Lady Lusamine". I know my universe's Lillie. She's on campus. I've read the Alolan Aether Incident Report. I know what she's like unless there's huge differences, and there is nothing on that page suggesting otherwise. For those of you not in the know I'll keep it brief: Lusamine was a massively abusive parent who directed her organization to do extremely unethical experiments and was power hungry.

By the way, here an excerpt from their mission statement that is rather concerning for me as a jirachi (apologies for the bad text, it's from their site):

Now, on that last one, you might be thinking "hey, you're a fan of blasphemy and not a fan of power structures, what's the deal?" This is phrased in the same way as a white supremacy group would do it about minorities. Not the way a pro-secularization organization, or even hardliner anti-religion group, would do it.

Also... I'm a mythical so this is super suspicious. Yeah, sure, I don't consider myself a pokemon, but someone like this sure could choose to see it that way for their agenda.

I'm hoping this is some edgy teen doing roleplay, but be careful out there.