#i like to think that goth counts as family to roots

[orisretr0]

*hands u yap card*

Please, tell me abt your characters! I wanna hear!!!

Hmmmmmmmmm, A-00, Floratale or simple intentions, hmmmmmmmm. floratale! Because I just doodled a thought recently that would fit this perfectly!

So, roots injects his soul with DT, right? Which causes him to nearly become like Gaster, but due to the flower seeds he is somewhat still kicking. Well, I also said that roots peeked into the multiverse, right?

guess what he saw?

…pfft! Ridiculous question! He saw everything! But reaper, ironically, was the first to try and see what the hell was peeping on him. Later on they become friends, so I like to think :] (the irony of death hanging around dudes who can’t die gives me daydream material, lmao)

if it’s anything, I also enjoy afterdeath, so geno meets roots too!

[vera-deville]

I told you I would send in a request, so here it is! This is an Obey Me one, if that's alright!

First off, have you ever seen Little Shop of Horrors? If not, please do! One, it's essential for this ask and it's also just a great movie! No pressure though!

Now, onto the real ask! So, if possible, I'd like to request a florist!MC. But a florist who's kind of like Seymour.

(Here's where the whole Little Shop of Horrors thing really comes in)

They come to the Devildom with Audrey II. It's got its roots wrapped around the MC's waist, and it's vines wrapped around their arms while snug. Of course, it's heavily off-putting because.. well. There's a humongous and terrifying plant just.. attached to this human.

But the brothers don't mind it, until months into the MC's stay as an exchange student when Audrey II starts talking. Then, they're all freaked out. They're even more freaked out when the MC is not only fine with it, but is willingly talking to it like it's normal!

(Bonus if they see the MC prick their finger and then just.. let Audrey II clean It off.)

(Yes, this came to me in a dream in the middle of a 20-minute-nap.)

So, what would the brothers think of this?

Feed Me Seymour!

05/17/2024 - 05/30/2024

Pairing: No pairing (you can think of the interactions as either platonic or romantic) Word Count: 3,351 Warnings: Reader pricks their finger, but they'll be alright; mentions of chapter 16 Gender: Gender Neutral (as it was not specified in the request) Tags: @g0dwat3r (if any of you would like to be added to my Obey Me taglist, please let me know)! Notes: Okay, I really love your brain Touya, because this is already a fantastic idea, but you know what I started thinking about? Morticia Addams. I don't know if you've seen the old Addams Family series, but Morticia has a carnivorous plant called Cleopatra, and I really wanted to include her in the story. I didn't, but I'm definitely thinking about writing it.

In which Y/N has a rather interesting plant friend(?)

"Congratulations!

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at the Royal Academy of Diavolo.

Please return this letter with your sign to confirm your participation.

We are looking forward to welcoming you as part of our new exchange program.

Yours sincerely,

Diavolo"

Huh? Royal Academy of Diavolo? Exchange Program? What was happening?

You tried to open your eyes, but there was nothing to see. Just pitch-blackness. It would have been more terrifying, but the soothing presence wrapped around your waist and arms helped. Quite a bit, at that. Clutching the stem of rice flowers close to your chest (although careful enough to not break the stem), you kept trying to see through the darkness for something, anything.

Soon enough, there was a voice. "We welcome you, human, to the demon student council."

The voice was stern, but pleasant, drawing your attention away from the darkness and to a room that was materializing in front of your eyes. It looked like a really goth courtroom, and you truly would have spent more time admiring the place if it wasn't for the ridiculously tall man who arose from the chief judge seat.

The man in question was handsome. Very much so. With burgundy hair, and a well-fitted suit, and skin so coppery sweet, it was no wonder that you couldn't help but stare.

And if you weren't so caught up in the man's appearance and the fact that you had no idea what on Earth was happening, perhaps you would have noticed that you weren't the only one staring.

You had to physically will yourself to pay attention not only to the man when he started speaking but the others in the room as well.

"Welcome to the Devildom, Y/N."

Astonishment enraptured your being for the simple reasons that this complete stranger somehow knew your name, and that every single person in the room was blessed with extremely good looks. The astonishment, unfortunately, did not go unnoticed.

"...Oh pardon me. Feeling a bit shocked, are we?" Asked the man with red hair. "Well that's understandable. You've only just arrived, after all." Arrived? Arrived where exactly? "As a human, it will probably take a little while for you to adjust to things here in the Devildom."

Okay yeah, this was some sort of really weird dream induced by your lack of sleep this past week. That's why there were really handsome dudes and that's why one was telling you weird stuff. Since it's a dream, there was no problem with going along with it, right?

"The Devildom?" You ask, feeling yourself relax a little more, now knowing that this is a dream.

"Yes, exactly, the Devildom. I see that you catch on quickly. Excellent." He replied.

Well, that didn't really answer anything.

You were about to ask for a better reply than that when he said, "I suppose I should start by introducing myself." Curious, you give him his moment. "My name is Diavolo. I am the ruler of of all demons, and all here know me." Cool. The dude's a demon king. Still not the weirdest thing you've ever dreamt. "And someday soon, I will be crowned king of the Devildom." Oh, he wasn't king yet. Then how's he a ruler already? You know what, it's probably best not to think too hard about it.

The so called ruler of the so called Devildom proceeded to explain about a school called R.A.D. and about a bunch of other stuff. The other demons (plus one that came in really late) introduced themselves as different demons of different avatars, and the more they spoke, the more you couldn't shake off a particular feeling.

It all felt too...real. You'd dreamt all sorts of things before, but a part of you somehow always knew that it was just a dream. But you didn't feel that this time. It felt far too real. The anxiety slowly crept back into your bones, a chilling effect settling over your being as your throat seemed to have something invisible lodged in it.

You tried telling them that you weren't meant to be here. That you were meant to be back home. You still had to finish your bouquet for Mrs. Harris, and you had a new shipment of peonies arriving in an hour. You hadn't finished watering all your plants. You hadn't cleaned up the shop. You still had so much left to do! You couldn't just be whisked away to some other world (that you still weren't entirely sure was a dream or not).

But alas.

You were told that there was no way they could send you back.

And if that wasn't bad enough, you had to go to school. You had assignments. You had tests. Oh and you were in what was basically hell.

Ain't that swell?

Throughout this whole ordeal, the plant around your waist remained dutifully wrapped around your figure, even nuzzling against your neck when she felt your discomfort.

Without much of a choice, you steeled yourself for the days in this foreign world that awaited you.

The latest human addition to R.A.D. was a little...odd. None of the brothers nor the demon prince in the room wished to point out the very large plant that had wrapped itself around the human like some manner of serpent, especially since the human was completely unbothered by it.

Most of the brothers found it odd, of course. Solomon never walked around with a giant plant stuck to him, but then again, Solomon wasn't necessarily normal himself. A few of the brothers didn't find it in themselves to keep their thoughts quiet. Mammon in particular straight up screeched when he saw the plant, and maintained his distance (both emotionally and physically) and still the human did not seem to mind the plant.

Asmo found the plant ugly.

That was really the only way he could describe it.

It was ugly.

Satan had read stories of plants like this. In one book he read, the plant ended up eating a whole bunch of people. He only hoped that this was not a case like that story.

Beelzebub didn't really have an opinion on the plant. He could eat it, but it didn't really look too appetizing.

Diavolo himself was worried at first, because he was sure that humans didn't simply walk around with giant plants attached to them. When he told Barbatos about this odd situation, the ever loyal butler offered to look into the matter discreetly.

He found nothing.

It had been many months since you had been whisked away to the Devildom (which you are now infinitely more familiar with). It was strange at first, and it took some getting used to, but you did it. Now, whenever you woke up to face the day ahead of you, you didn't do so in fear or anxiety or anything else.

You had grown accustomed to this new world.

In fact, you'd go so far as to say that you'd grown fond of the place.

Audrey II seemed to agree with this. Every morning, Audrey demanded a large meat dish to satisfy her hunger. The brothers assumed that you were a very hungry individual (Beel felt a deep hunger coming from you at all times), and didn't think much more of it. Every now and then, Audrey would crave a Backstabbing Sandwich (apparently it was particularly delicious), and you, having no other choice, entertained her food whims. What's the worst that could happen?

It was after the whole incident with Belphegor that you brought Audrey with you more often wherever you went. Though you and the brothers had slowly gotten past the incident, the trauma it left behind did not magically go away. Audrey II being the sweet thing she is, had no qualms to being carried around the Devildom (despite the lingering stares and questions that were thrown your way).

Today was a day that Audrey II would be coming with you. You were heading off to the flower shop you owned on Dogma Street. You originally were looking to open the shop at Silent Street, but Dogma Street caught your eye. The street itself was the biggest electronic district in the Devildom, and when you first proposed the idea to the brothers (and Diavolo and Barbatos) to open a flower shop there, they were quick to advice you not to. Why would you open a flower shop at a street primarily known for its electronics?

Still, you managed to push through, and you ended up becoming the quaint owner of a little shop next to an eatery on the street.

And wouldn't you know, it actually did pretty well.

Of course, since you were a student, you couldn't be at your shop full-time, and that's where two lesser demons come in - Terror and Dolor - a pair of siblings who often fought, but shared an interest in flora. They would take care of the shop in shifts, and seeing as you gave them the housing area right above the shop to stay in, you could make sure that they would be at your precious flower shop at (mostly) all times.

Today was planned to be their day off, which was fine by you, seeing as you hadn't been to the shop in a week and you desperately wanted to see your babies (plants) again.

You opened the door, causing a sweet bell to ring, signifying your arrival to your empoyees.

"Y/N!"

"You're back!"

Smiling, you greet your employees, Audrey still wrapped around you.

Terror and Dolor fawned over Audrey (they're really the only ones in the Devildom who do that apart from you) while you went inside to get your apron. Working at the flower shop had quite a few benefits. You could make your own money, go to work at your own time, and most importantly, you could be surrounded by the things that you love the most - flora (and Audrey).

Your flower shop was quaint (despite its large capacity). Many customers have complimented it, saying that it felt homely (which is exactly what you were going for, so mission accomplished successfully you supposed). Even Asmo loved the place, and oftentimes would post selfies from just about everywhere in your shop.

"Dolor, how's that order with the Bloody Acokanthera Oblongifolias going?" You asked the demon pruning Audrey II.

"Just finished it this morning! We shipped it along with the invoice for the flowers. The customer notified us that they would be making the payment by the end of today." Dolor replied.

Shooting a smile of satisfaction at him, you shooed the brothers out your shop, wishing for them to have a lovely day to do...well, whatever it was they did outside the shop. Right before they left, Terror told you that a certain demon butler had visited the shop earlier and left a letter for you, and how she placed it in your office.

With that in mind, you walked back into your shop, petting Audrey II as she sat on a table before walking into your office and grabbing the aforementioned letter.

Even without the knowledge from the siblings that Barbatos had delivered this letter to you, you would have been able to tell that it was he who wrote the letter. By this time in your adventures in the Devildom, you had come to recognize the handwriting of those you know. And while a few had impeccable writing (in cursive too), no one's writing was as elegant as Barbatos - not even Lucifer.

The letter read:

"Dearest Y/N, I am pleased to inform you that Lord Diavolo requires a fresh shipment of Dark Roses for an upcoming event at the castle. I sincerely apologize for the short notice, but please note that the master and I truly would have given you more time to prepare the notice had we been able to do so. We shall need enough roses to fill out the Crimson Room. I estimate that the number be around 50. We will need the roses delivered by tomorrow. Thank you, Barbatos"

You smiled, already having a good idea as to why the roses were needed. Some of the higher officials (not including the brothers you lived with) had been a little too finicky with their positions and though not a threat to the heir of the Devildom, they were starting to get on his nerves.

No matter.

Despite how sweet Diavolo seemed (and actually is), even the Crown Prince of the Devildom had his limits. Oh well. Those officials would get what was coming to them.

Your job was to simply provide the best roses for such an event.

With a newfound vigor, you made your way next door (you had originally bought two plots in the street and simply joined them together to create one shop. This area was where you kept some of your best grown flora (the rest were in an undisclosed location only you and a few others knew about). Typically, you the plants you grew in this area were popular - loads of customers would buy them. The rest of your plants were grown in the aforementioned undisclosed location. Despite this, there was one type of flower you grew in your shop which was by no means popular, but rather extremely rare.

Dark roses.

You fondly recall you and Barbatos planting a fresh batch of dark roses at the Demon Lord's Castle, and how he had given you some seeds to grow for yourself. What started off as a few roses quickly became much more, and now you were the exclusive propagator of dark roses in the Devildom. It was a monopoly you gladly encouraged (something Mammon also did).

The first step was to cut the roses. The roses had to be cut in a specific manner - a 45-degree angle and they had to be put in water immediately. This same method was used with roses back in the human realm (and gardeners would use the stems to grow new roses out of), but there was one key difference between the roses from back home and the dark roses in the Devildom. One of them could actually survive a little while without having to be immediately placed in water.

The other could not.

And that's part of the reason why dark roses were so rare in the Devildom. They were ridiculously hard to grow in the first place, but cutting them was an even bigger pain.

Luckily, you had loads of experience with these finicky things, so you had this in the bag.

After some time, you'd harvested almost 60 roses (some extras, just in case), and it was time to remove the thorns from their stems. Removing the thorns from the roses could be done using one of two different tools you had available in your shop. The first one were rose thorn cutters (made specifically for that purpose) that didn't look too different from a pair of nail cutters. The logic was that you'd slide the tool up to the top of the stem, press down on the handles gently, and then drag it down the stem, thus cutting off the thorns.

Though very efficient, the second tool was your favorite - a simply knife. Roses were woody in nature, so all you had to do was simply slice all around the stem of the flower. Admittedly, this took a lot more time than the thorn cutters, but in a way, it was stress relieving. You were sure that you'd end up using the thorn cutters, but you'd enjoy using the knife for as long as you could.

And so you got to work - de-thorning all 60 something roses by hand.

You'd gotten through more than half of the roses when you heard the bell of your shop jingle. Turning around, you saw none other than the brothers you shared a house with. But in doing so, you'd accidentally run the blade of the tool you were using right across your finger.

Woops.

Hissing, you pulled your gaze from the brothers and back to your finger. You could see the cut, but it took a moment for the blood to come out. It was painful, and you weren't too good with cuts (a little ironic, considering your profession), but before you could whisk your finger away to wash off the blood, Audrey II yelled, "Feed me! I'm starving" before she chomped down on your finger.

Of course, she didn't actually bite off your finger, but she sucked the blood out, and it made your finger more sore than it was already.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, of course. You'd gotten hurt loads of times when working (and even when you weren't working), and if there was blood (which there usually was), Audrey would just lick it off for your. Same old.

The brothers had seen you talk to Audrey II plenty of times before, hell (literally), you'd talk to just about every plant you came across, but never had they seen Audrey II talk to you.

If that wasn't shock enough, you just wiped your hands down on your apron before turning back to face the brothers and greet them with a smile as though you hadn't just nicked yourself and had your plant(?) lick your finger for you.

Of course, the greeting faltered on your tongue as soon as you saw the faces of the brothers.

Asmodeus spoke up first.

"Sweetie, your plant just talked!"

"Yeah?" You asked rhetorically. "What about it?" You watched as the brothers tried (and failed) to come up with words to say, although you didn't really understand why they were struggling so. Even Levi was stunned. In an attempt to make a joke (and to stifle the stifling atmosphere), you said, "It's not like you guys didn't know that Audrey could talk."

One look at their faces, and you knew that you were wrong.

"Wait, you guys actually didn't know that Audrey could talk!?" You asked, stunned at this new revelation.

At last, Lucifer gathered himself. "Ahem. We were not made...aware of the fact that your plant was sentient." He sure looked uncomfortable trying to explain his mind without offending you or Audrey.

"What do you think all that meat was being delivered for every morning Lucifer?" You asked sardonically.

"Wait, I thought that yer the one eatin all that meat!" Mammon exclaimed. Bewildered, you shot him a look conveying as such.

"How the hell would I eat 2 whole pounds of meat every single day genius?" You retorted.

"We just thought you were hungry." Beel offered.

"I'm a human. I'd literally die if I ate that much meat every. single. day." You enunciated the last words.

"I'm rather fascinated by Audrey II. How did you come to meet? Was she always this size? Did she always have a deep carnivorous craving?" Satan asked consecutively. Before you had a chance to answer any of them though, he continued, "Actually, now that I think about it, it makes sense! I've been an utter idiot! All the signs were there, and I've read about these kind of plants in A Complete Guide to Carnivorous Plants and How to Care for Them!"

You didn't even bother reminding him that you were the one who recommended the book to him.

Belphegor seemed to be the most chill (although you could still see some semblance of surprise on his sleepy visage).

Figuring that this was probably going to take a while, and you had a whole bunch of Dark Roses to prepare, you invited everyone to grab a chair and sit while you worked.

It turned out to be a good choice, because you ended up finishing a few hours after you'd originally thought you'd finish, and by the end of the day, Audrey had made (official) friends with each of the brothers. In fact, you would say that Audrey and Asmo got along particularly well.

And yes, the roses turned out spectacularly, and the House of Lords were reminded once again of who was truly in charge.

Author's Note: I took some liberty with the Reader's personality in this fic. Seymour's a very timid guy, and (spoiler alert), that's what ultimately lead to his demise (in my opinion). Being thrust into a world full of demons, I think you're gonna need a little more tenacity that Seymour, so I made the Reader timid, but not Seymour-level timid (if that makes sense). The second thing I took a decent amount of liberty with is making Audrey II not entirely evil. She is after all a villain in the original story, but I made Audrey a little bit like Cleopatra. (Sorry if that's not what you wanted)! Masterlist

[sevilemar]

OK, analysis time:

A sweet young dwarfen knowledge cleric who was always the straight man to her unhinged friend's shenanigans. She grew up happy with her four siblings, and was always a bit weird because a scroll chose her when she was little, and that's why she had to join the order. When people around her started dying because someone wanted the scroll, she did not want to put her family and friends at risk, and left. They do not know why, but they support her anyway. Except for her auntie, who thinks she should have a husband and a bunch of children by now, but she is an asshole and doesn't count.

An elven barbarian who lost their family to bandits and is out for revenge. They sent their wife and kids with new identities to the mainland to protect them from the escalating bullying/persecution in their community, only to find them slaughtered when they came after. They are now travelling under their new identity alone, have changed their gender presentation and pronouns, and nothing much is left of their usual exuberance. They have also returned to their criminal roots, because everything is fair when you're out for revenge.

A dragonborn palalock who ran away from her parents to be part of the glorious dragon revolution, which failed. She survived the Last Stand only barely, and only with the help of a childhood friend. That friend is now the only thing they care about, and since they are part of a brutal criminal organisation, so is my dragonborn. She is technically evil alignment, but I made her for a group of good or neutral characters, so I had to file off her edges a little bit.

A dramatic teenage human wizard who became a necromancer's apprentice because she liked the cool goth aesthetic, and was in way over her head. I made her as an NPC for my campaign, and ended up playing her when I gave the GM-reigns to one of the players for a sidequest. She got adopted and saved by the party, and is now working at one of their associates artificer workshops for lost children.

A changeling monk that spent their life drunk on peppermint schnapps, and changing with their mood. They started a romance with the avatar of spring, before their companions decided to burn down the pocket dimension, killing all of them. It was a wild mini campaign.

A religious fanatic shulassakar psion who was sent out into the world to observe. She was born into an eternal holy war that goes on completely undetected by the normal world, and then reborn in a manifestation zone of the War Dimension, because her rigid religious beliefs made her fight one of her party members to the death. She is now a dhampir sorcerer/warlock, has lost her connection to the great unconscious, but also knows she still has a soul, and her gods have not forsaken her. Now she is learning about the world, and she has to contend with all kinds of moral grey instead of black and white, which she is ill-equipped for and endlessly frustrated by.

---

I see themes of alienation and isolation, but also of friendship and protection and wanting to connect. But I am biased, obviously.

So one thing I’ve noticed is that people’s DnD characters may vary but there is usually an underlying thread that they all have in common. This thread is typically related to what that person struggles with the most.

For instance, my betrotheds DnD characters: a bitchy warlock we had to bust out of two different pacts, a sassy barbarian, a reformed drow cultist, and a sunshine fighter cleric.

All these characters were wildly different but at their very core struggle was them grappling with their self worth. My betrothed struggles with their worth a great deal and even with different facets showing their characters all have that too.

Mine all tend to contend with different themes of loneliness and acceptance. Surprise, surprise, the little autistic gremlin yearns to have been met with more love and lasting friendships.

So we’re at breakfast. I am meeting a new friend of my betrotheds for the first time. It’s been twenty minutes since I’ve met this man. I say my theory. He laughs. He starts to describe a few of his characters but specifies that he often has healing aspects. He gives a very broad overview of their character arcs.

I ponder for a moment then said, “Would you like to have my assessment?”

He laughed, “Sure!”

“We’ve just met. It’s gonna get real.”

“Bring it on.”

“I think your struggle is that you feel you must offer something of value or service to people to be worthy of their love.”

His jaw dropped. His fork froze midway to his mouth. A potato fell. He stared into space as this sank in. Quietly he said, “Oh.”

[lunatic-pudge]

Snake Headcanons Cause He Deserves More Love

• I'm with everyone with the idea of him becoming a tattoo artist. He def started out by doing stick and pokes and worked his way up. He only tattoos the other members of Gangreen Gang though. I can also see him doing mostly traditional Japanese tattoos, it's his way to connect to his Japanese roots.

• Will literally wear anything and everything, no matter what it is, and he damn well knows how to pull a dress/skirt off too. I like to believe that as he got older, he started going down a more alt-esque fashion. I'm not sure what but maybe a mall goth or some type of punk style. But what's gonna stop him from going gothic lolita?

• Also is a makeup pro. Always has a face of makeup on, with painted nails too! Though it can be rough with him having such rugged skin.Will gladly help the gang if they ask him for makeup help. I can see him and Arturo bonding over makeup.

• I see him as being the most cruel of the gang. Like Ace has more empathy than him. I'm sure Snake has a heart at times but I feel that being out on the streets commiting crimes has harden him and made him year for more. He will do anything and everything to get what he wants and to come out on top if that makes sense.

• So with that being said, any type of relationship with him I see as a Romeo and Juliette type situation, or maybe even a Bonnie and Cylde, depending on the S/O. He's the person your parents don't want you being with. There'd be lots of sneaking out, partying, petty crimes, ect. You ain't coming home til the sun starts rising. You'll be out doing all sorts of shenanigans but you'll be having fun regardless.

• Def a protective type, with the gang and a S/O. Will throw hands if anyone messes with the people he loves. He's kinda a weakling so he may not win the fight but it's the thought that counts, right? We love a protective Snek.

• But do remember that sometimes he's not the smartest person in the group at times. He tends to speak before he thinks and will act without realizing, which has lead to many punches from Ace. So because of that, he tends to expect getting hit for his mistakes. He'll love you forever once he realizes that you aren't gonna hurt him for acting/speaking out. Plz give him love :(

• If I'm Correct, in PPGZ his family is wealthy. So I'd like to think that during the summer, his mom would take him to Japan to see his family (no dad though, I just can't really see him having a dad). He hates having to leave the gang for a while but he always makes sure to stay in touch with them and bring them each a gift back so they feel included. And since he goes to Japan so frequently, he has a pretty good with speaking, reading, and writing Japanese (with occasional mistakes). Has probably tried to teach the gang Japanese but failed horribly. Would def teach them curse would and other offensive things.

• Is surprisingly a pretty decent cook. He may not be the best but he at the very least knows what he's doing. He and Billy would be deligated to cooking for the gang, and yes, pink frilly aprons will be worn.

• When it comes to sleeping, his bed is LITTERED with pillows and blankets. Has a heating blanket that is under his sheet he uses to heat his bed up. Will wrap himself in many blankets just to keep warm, since he's constantly cold. May or may not has a stuffed animal in his bed that he got as a gift from his grandma. And you best believe that you'll get a good nights rest in his bed cause of how comfortable it is. Sleeping for him is decent but he tends to have nights where he just can't seem to sleep. Those nights he'll spend with the gang causing mischef.

[texanredrose]

Prep and Goth

Day 1: Enemies to Lovers/Secret Library Time

---

Weiss stared at the clock, mentally urging the second hand to move faster. The transition between this period and the next always took the longest- or at least it felt like time slowed down around this point in the day. She hated how the end of the period never caught her off guard; she was always keenly aware of the clock, with her work done and backpack already packed and ready for her to leave the classroom. She was usually the first one out the door.

“Hey, if I give you five lien, could you get me a redbull?”

“No, Ruby; for the last time, I don’t have a release period next, I’m a library aide.”

“Oh, come on, everyone knows you just show up, sign in, and disappear!” Her fellow senior slumped in her seat. “It’s not like you’re going to get in trouble! Ms. Goodwitch knows you ditch and she doesn’t say anything!”

How she’d become friends- perhaps even best friends- with the school’s most energetic track star was beyond her; it involved an ill fated chemistry lab and the fire department but, honestly, she couldn’t remember specific details beyond that. While Weiss would love to say she merely put up with and tolerated Ruby, the truth was that she still hadn’t entirely adjusted to the concept of having someone who would be with her through thick and thin. She was being… persuaded to open up to the young woman but she still kept more secrets than she probably should from her best friend.

“I swear, Ruby Rose, if you keep spreading such slander about my character, I’ll be forced to take drastic action!” She tore her gaze away from the clock to glare at the woman. “I do not skip class!”

Rolling her silver eyes, Ruby rested her head on her desk and groaned. “Just because you’re the Valedictorian doesn’t mean you have to be perfect, Weiss. No one’s going to care if you ditch one period.”

“I care!” The bell rang a moment later and she forgot about the argument entirely as she quickly grabbed her pack and fast walked to the door.

The walk from her class to the library was a blessedly short one, made slightly longer by classmates and underclassmen getting in her way as other students emerged into the hallway for the passing period. A cold glare managed to persuade some of them to move but not all of them- those blessedly ignorant few she stepped around or nearly barreled through if she could get away with it. It probably contributed to her reputation of being a vicious, cut throat type of person like her sister but her patience had worn too thin and she needed to get to the library.

A few steps from her goal, a hand suddenly landed on her shoulder and spun her around, and only two people in the whole school would dare put their hands on her like that, and only one of them for no good reason. “YANG-”

“Calm down, Princess, this’ll be quick, promise!” With hands on Weiss’ shoulders, she guided them away from the throng of students to a small alcove next to the library doors. “Just got something I need to say real quick.”

“What could you possibly have to say to me?” Weiss scowled at the blonde, annoyed that she seemed to get taller every time they talked, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Last I checked, I didn’t have anything to do with the girls’ basketball team. Or the weightlifting team. Or the boxing team. Or-”

Yang clapped her hands together in front of Weiss’ face, smiling that do-you-really-think-they’ll-expel-me smile of hers. “Hey, do me a favor? Drop the frigid bitch act for, like, five minutes, okay? Because I really don’t have the time for it; if you wanna go toe-to-toe in the bitch-out-lypmics, we can schedule that another time, but right now, I need to have a serious talk with you. It’s about Blake.”

At the namedrop, her blood ran cold and her heart lodged in her throat, eyes growing wide as a genuine tendril of fear began taking root in her chest. “Is she okay?”

“Well, that depends,” Yang replied, looking around at their classmates walking past without paying them any mind. “Look. I don’t get it, okay, the whole secret girlfriends thing, I don’t even know how you two got together… but what I do know is that Blake deserves better than someone who’s ashamed of her-”

“Don’t you dare put words in my mouth,” she hissed, worry turning to fury in the blink of an eye. “I’m not ashamed to be dating Blake. If it was safe, everyone would know!”

“Yeah, can you define ‘safe’ for me in this context? Because I’m having a real hard time convincing Blake you’re being sincere when you don’t want anyone knowing the two of you are dating.”

“You know we’re dating!”

“Because I refuse to let things go and I knew she was acting weird!” Yang growled in frustration, fingers flexing as if she was seriously debating throttling Weiss. “Listen, I figured it out and I bullied her into telling me weeks ago, but not even Ruby knows beyond that. Not a fan of keeping secrets but I’ll do it for a friend. Now, answer my question, please, because with the rest of the school convinced you two hate each other, this whole ‘don’t tell anyone we’re dating thing’ is clear as mud, and it’s really starting to get to her.”

Weiss’ shoulders fell as she looked away, her anger abating in the face of the situation presented to her. “It’s… complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it for me.” Yang made a gesture with one hand. “Just give me a straight answer!”

“I can’t!” She stamped her foot, speaking before she could think about her word choice. “I can only give you a gay answer!”

Yang stared at her for a long moment. “So, that’s what Blake meant when she said you have the worst sense of humor.”

“I’m done with this conversation-”

Yang grabbed her arm and stopped her, expression turning serious. “Listen, you don’t wanna talk to me? Fine. But talk to Blake. If you really care about her, she deserves to hear that.”

As the blonde stepped away, the bell rang, making both of them late- not that it would matter. Ms. Goodwitch wouldn’t count her late and even if she did, a single tardy wouldn’t be much of a blemish on her record. There was a time when it would’ve bothered her but she’d grown past that a few years ago; perfection was, in some sense, in the eye of the beholder. Blake would notice, though, and she hurried to the library to keep her ‘secret girlfriend’ from worrying.

When she got to the library, she dropped her bag behind the counter and signed in, highly aware that Blake was somewhere among the rows reshelving books. 

The librarian gave her a small nod. “I presume you have good reason for being late but don’t make a habit of it.”

“Of course, Ms. Goodwitch.” With that, she grabbed a few leftover books that needed reshelving and went into the stacks to reshelve them. As soon as she was far enough away from the front desk, she spoke in a soft voice that Blake would be able to hear regardless. “Blake? I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Is everything alright?” She’d long ago grown accustomed to the faunus’ silent steps, which really shouldn’t be possible given the amount of glistening chains and bits of metal hung from her ensemble but it was one of those things Weiss had accepted about Blake at first and had grown to admire. “It’s not like you to be late.”

“I… got pulled into a conversation.” She debated, briefly, if she should mention who the conversation was with but ultimately decided against it. Yang would likely bring it up herself at some point but she didn’t want the distraction at present. “Blake… you know I care about you, right?”

“Yes, Weiss, and I care about you, too,” she replied, her voice holding that special lilt that Weiss used to think was snideness. Now, she recognized it as a gentle sort of teasing and, sometimes, a deflection. “What brought this on?”

“I’ve been thinking about some things… and I find myself curious about some… other things.”

“Truly, you have a way with words.”

“I’m trying to be serious!” Weiss whined, putting a hand to her head as she tried to think of a way to word what she wanted to say. In the next moment, Blake stepped up and wrapped her arms around her waist, resting her chin on Weiss’ shoulder in a silent show of support. This was, partly, where they differed, because even when words escaped Blake, the faunus could somehow find a way to convey what she needed; Weiss, in contrast, simply clammed up entirely if she didn’t begin insulting whoever was nearest. “You know the only reason we’re not dating publicly is because of my family, right? That, the moment I turn eighteen and gain access to my funds, I’ll shout it from the rooftops… right?”

Blake took a step back but one hand lingered on Weiss’ hip, a soft assurance that she wasn’t leaving but that they should probably have a conversation like this face-to-face. When she turned around, she searched shining amber eyes and found a touch of disbelief hiding there. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think it was the only reason.”

“It really is…” Weiss sighed, running a hand through her bangs in frustration. “I… I don’t know how to prove it, I don’t know if there’s anything I could say or do that would, but… I don’t want you thinking that I’m ashamed of dating you… that’s… that’s the furthest from the truth.”

Feline ears flicked towards one end of the row and both of them quickly focused on shelving the few books that remained as a group of students went back to one of the study rooms. Once the coast was clear, Blake sighed heavily. “I told Yang to drop it.”

“She’s trying to help.” Begrudgingly, she continued. “Ruby’s the same way. They meddle when they can but they have the best of intentions.”

“Still… she wasn’t too… forceful, was she?”

“She only threatened to throttle me, so no, she wasn’t too forceful.” Weiss tilted her head. “And, arguably, she has a salient point. I… I perhaps took it for granted that you would… that I made my feelings about you clear to you.”

Blake ducked her head, her ears flicking back briefly to blending into midnight black hair. As per her usual, the faunus was bedecked in all black save for the silver of the chains hanging from her pants and the snake bite piercings on her bottom lip. Whenever they were making out, Weiss found that flicking either of the piercings with her tongue would always result in a soft groan from Blake.

“So… when you turn eighteen…basically, when we graduate?” Blake took a step forward. “That’s… a long time to be a secret from everyone.”

“Well… not from everyone. Yang knows.”

“Uh huh.”

“And Ruby will know… when I tell her…”

“Right.” Blake came a bit closer. “I guess that means we won’t be going to prom together.”

Weiss raised a brow, then caught onto what her girlfriend was doing, a smile tugging at her lips. “You? Go to prom?” A soft chuckle. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be caught dead at… what was it you called it? A useless party for empty headed idiots?”

“And a waste of money. I said that, too.” Blake stopped just a hair’s breadth away and very nonchalantly shelved a book just behind Weiss’ shoulder. “But you’ve got a crown to win, right? Prom Queen to go with your other honors?”

“There’s only one crown that I care to claim,” she replied, reaching up to bury her hand in midnight locks between the faunus’ ears and pulling her down into a kiss. Normally, they didn’t indulge in such outside of Ms. Goodwitch’s office, which the librarian granted them access to once they’d reshelved all the books. If she suspected what they did in there, she remained silent, probably because while reshelving the books they would also fix what other aides did incorrectly and she appreciated the help more than she cared to curtail PDAs.

The kiss didn’t last too long- just long enough to drive her point home- but the look in amber eyes almost made her too weak to move.

Weiss gathered her courage. “I do love you, Blake.”

Not ‘care about’, not ‘fond of’, not any other arrangement of words she’d used over the past year to describe how she felt. Fear that caring too much would make her careless had prevented her from saying the words before. Now, though, she couldn’t go another moment without Blake understanding exactly how much she cared.

After the shock passed, Blake smiled softly, ears canting forward. “I love you too, Weiss.”

It took a moment for them to part but they returned to the counter and finished reshelving the books.

“Blake?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think I’d look good in black?”

---

Hi, yes, please join me in picturing Blake as a late 90′s/early 00′s goth girl.

[sunriseseance]

please,,, even if you dont answer this publicly i wanna know your In Depth Thoughts on fanon klaus and the issues w him bc i also have issues w fanon klaus but i cant put it in words

This got SO LONG, so I hope you meant it when you said you wanted in depth! Holy shit I sorta lost my mind on this.

In my early days as a bear-poker in this fandom, I described fanon!Klaus as that person who gets resurrected in a horror movie and comes back different. As an audience member, I can tell he's wrong, but nobody interacting with him directly seems to know this. I've also talked a little bit about Klaus and intelligence before, which plays into any discussion about fanon!Klaus, but I'll be more specific here. Before I get started, I wanna say that fandom is a fun space and I don't think anyone is *bad* for creating/enjoying fanon!Klaus, especially not for the third reason I lay out. I just think he's awful, and has some harmful roots that I doubt the people writing him even know about on a conscious level.

Okay, let's get into this. Because I'm me and Wittgenstein's early work that he later disagreed with has changed my entire way of interacting with the world, I'm gonna define my terms. Let's talk about what fanon!Klaus is LIKE before we talk about why I REALLY DON'T LIKE HIM. Fanon!Klaus is a happy, stupid, sweet, childish, bubbly, luminous free spirit. He wears bubblegum pink skirts and he cries when Diego eats his cookies. He doesn't know what numbers are, he can't count, he can't walk and chew gum, he thinks that Africa is a country, he forgets that homophobia exists, he doesn't know that drugs are bad for him, the list goes on (These are all real examples. Can you tell what part of fanon annoys me the most?). He cries at the drop of a hat, and doesn't understand his place in the family. He'd move heaven and earth to help the people around him, and he'd never be mean to anyone but Luther (and even then just barely) He constantly needs attention, supervision, etc. He makes jokes about modern memes and listens exclusively to pop music. He's really damaged but it's only because nobody Took Care Of Him and he needs someone to Rescue Him.

Canon Klaus is mean, and quick, and sharp, and miserable, and hiding, and funny because you're laughing WITH him, and an old soul, and a goth, and chronically apathetic, and selfish, and so fucking smart, and acutely aware of just how much he matters to other people. He makes rape jokes, he figures out how to get info on the eye while high out of his mind, he speaks like 10 languages, he listens to Nina Simone, he uses people's inherent fear of the dead to buy himself time, he finds the perfect story within the dead to cause a rift, he tells Luther TO HIS FACE that he doesn't care if the world ends. Klaus is a fascinating study in queer trauma, and robbing him of these traits is a complete disservice to yourself AND the character.

I say this often about fanon!Klaus, but WHO IS THIS??? Like…. Okay, if I gave you this list and you didn't know it was about Klaus, would you think it was? I think he's literally unrecognizable. He's not any of the things I know or love about Klaus. He's nobody to me, except a nuisance wearing the same skin suit and clogging the tags. He is also, weirdly, the most popular character in the entire fandom. I wanna think about why, and I have 3 theories that I think can all be true separately or simultaneously instance to instance.

First, fanon!Klaus exists because of internalized homophobia, classism, and anti-addict rhetoric. I think that on some level people don't believe addicts, feminine queer men, or homeless people are capable of intelligence. I think people see Klaus's canonical positive traits and they sort of throw them out the window because they don't make sense with their world view. A queer addict is a helpless tragedy, and he's someone that needs rescuing by Kind Strong Dave. A queer addict can't be smart, because then he wouldn't be an addict. A queer addict can't be wily, or interesting, because then he wouldn't be an addict. Fandom sees a feminine queer mlm and knows he should be in a sparkly bubblegum pink skirt, and saying "dahling" or "wig" or whatever else all the time. They know he should be bashful and submissive and always falling into the arms of Kind Strong Dave who protects him from Evil. They also know he should really, really like Britney Spears, and not give a shit about Nina Simone.

Second, fanon!Klaus exists because people want to excuse negative behavior in their favorite characters. Klaus is selfish and mean and apathetic. He just is. These are flaws that haunt him, and define a lot of his interactions. These are, also, pretty tough flaws to excuse (which… Hey…. I have a solution for that). I think that fanon Klaus, who just doesn't GET that he's being mean, and is too stupid not to become an addict (I don't think addiction is a flaw, but I do think that addiction plays into this), and is too out of touch and childish to understand that he shouldn't just fucking leave, comes from a place of wanting Klaus to be a good person who does good things. I'm sorry, but he isn't. Not always. I think the impulse to make him constantly sweet and constantly stupid comes from wanting Klaus's actions to be fundamentally excusable. He can't help it! He's just too much of a useless twink to know that it's bad to lie! (also, side note, fanon!Ben comes from this side of fanon!Klaus. In canon, Klaus is self destructing on purpose and Ben's presence helps…. Maybe, possibly, twice. In fanon, Klaus is just stupid and he needs a babysitter and that is Ben, the motiveless, endlessly loving but Exhausted braincell holder. This is fucked up on many levels. Ben is an asshole, and we all need to get used to that idea quick).

The third and final reason is that fanon!Klaus is… More fun, in the traditional sense of the word. Fanon!Klaus seems like he comes from a very emotional romcom or sitcom or something. He's like a barbie. He's fun to play dress-up with. He's fun to make incorrect quotes about. He's fun to write about, especially when it's about his siblings herding him or coddling him. Good ol' useless, loveable Klaus. I think this is partially because Klaus is a pretty fucking heavy character. He's a traumatized homeless queer drug addict, and that's sort of hard to make jokey fandom content about. Not impossible, I don't think, but not easy. This isn't to say that angsty fandom content isn't guilty of fanon!Klaus, though. It absolutely is. Often when Klaus willingly shares his feelings, or cries in front of someone, or asks for help for something more intense than tying him to a chair, it's fanon!Klaus. Hell, any time he GETS rescued it's teetering into that territory. He's still completely devoid of all of the grit and intrigue of canon, but he's fun to write about, and fun to project onto, and fun to rescue. He's also EASIER to write. People know that Klaus is a funny character, they know they laugh when he's on screen, but it is WAY harder to write a character you're laughing with than it is to write a character you're laughing at. It's WAY easier to write a character who moves your angst plot on by asking for help, or necessitating rescuing, than it is to work out how these things would happen without initiation. I get it, and in spite of the length of this, I don't think it's the end of the world.

I guess as I close this out, I would remind everyone that Klaus is smart, and mean, and over 30 years old. He's not a babe in the woods, or a damsel in distress, or a useless silly junkie twink. I promise that the real Klaus is worth the time and effort it takes to engage with him.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,547 Words

Summary: Kirishima finds a friend on a late-night hair dye run. Little does everyone know this new friend staying with 1-A temporarily is a deaged villain, who doesn't know what he turned into in his old future. Can they carve him a new future?

Chapter Summary: Kirishima takes home a hair dye buddy without either of them realizing the implications.

Warnings: Attempted Stealing Mention, Fighting Mention, Cursing, Injury Mention, Drunk Mention, Child Abuse Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Notes: Thoughts look like ‘this’.

Hair Dye Buddies: Chapter 1

Kirishima really never thought he'd be in this position. But his roots were nearly two inches now and he'd made the excuse of wearing a hat far too often lately. It was better to just get it done. Just a quick run for some hair bleach and his usual red dye.

While there, he saw a boy his age looking at brown hair dyes, wearing a hoodie with the hood covering his hair. Hah! So he wasn't the only one on a midnight hair dye run. He looked like he was having problems as he read over the instructions.

"Find a good one?" He asked.

'Great way to start a conversation with the poor dude, Eijiro.' Big blue eyes looked up like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. Kind of like a kid in trouble.

"Huh? Oh, I um...I don't know which one will work." The other seemed more than shy, almost like he hadn't expected someone to notice him, or for everyone to ignore him. Like he was used to it.

"Sorry for buggin ya man. Ya know, that brand wears out easy. This one stays longer." He tapped the light brown box of dye of the brand he'd picked. The boy put back the other box and hesitantly took the brown box of dye he'd recommended.

He seemed rather skittish even while Kirishima checked out and he saw the kid putting the dye in his jacket. Oh. OH. He was skittish because he didn't have money for the dye. Kirishima went back to him and tapped his shoulder, earning a wince but the kid looked at him and scared eyes got impossibly more frightened.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll put it back." The kid promised.

"Hey, it's no big deal. I get it, okay? Here." He stuck his hand out and the kid handed him the brown dye with bandaged hands. "C'mon." Kirishima led him to the registers and paid for the brown dye and handed it to him.

"Thank you." The kid whispered.

"No problem! I hope it turns out well, man." Kirishima smiled brightly and the kid headed out quickly and Kirishima followed, coming out to see a burly guy bugging the kid.

"You think you can just change your hair color to hide from me!?" Kirishima didn't quite think, setting his hair dye down and rushing to take the punch the kid was about to take with his hardening practically breaking the guy's hand.

"You've got an attack dog now!?" The guy yelled.

"Fuck off dude! He's a kid!" Eijiro snapped at the guy.

"He owes me!" The guy roared.

"He doesn't owe you shit, he's just a kid!" The hero-in-training snapped back.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." The kid tried to apologize for his new involvement.

"It's okay, kid." Eijiro assured him. "Why's this guy bothering you?"

"He hurt me after he said I could stay with him. I ran away. I was trying to hide." The kid told him.

"You're safe, kid. I won't let him near you." He promised.

"Gimme the kid! He got hurt because he owes me!"  Kirishima decked the guy and he was down for the count now.

"I'm sorry." The kid apologized again.

"It's okay. I'm a hero-in-training. It's my job to protect people like you from guys like him." The kid handed him his bag with his bleach and dye.

"You put this down." The kid whispered.

"Thanks, dude. You wanna walk this guy to the station with me and I'll get you home?" Eijiro asked.

"I should be fine."

"Come on, kid." He led him along to the station and dropped the guy off. "Now where do you live?" The kid looked around to find an exit and it hit him harder than he thought it should. The guy who hassled him had housed him. He ran away. He didn't have a home to take him back to.

"Come on, kid." He began leading him to UA, texting Aizawa that he had a friend coming over. "My name's Kirishima, by the way. Kirishima Eijiro." He smiled at his new friend.

"Todoroki Touya." The kid whispered.

"Huh, I didn't know Shoto had a cousin named Touya." Kirishima muttered.

"Shoto is my brother." Touya told him.

"Oh, then I could have Mr. Aizawa extend your stay as a family visit!" Kirishima smiled, hugging him close.

"Okay." Touya quietly followed and looked up at the UA building before Kirishima faced him toward the dormitories across from it. Aizawa was waiting for them, cat in arms and looking quite unhappy.

"Heyo, Mr. Aizawa, here's Touya. Harmless as a fly." Touya looked at the Pro Hero and waved a bit.

"And you said he's your 'bestie' and 'hair dye buddy'?" Aizawa asked groggily.

"Yes, sir! He's just visiting for a bit. I also happened to find out he's one of Todoroki's brothers on the way here." Aizawa eyed him up and down.

"And I got a call from the station you turned in a man harassing him for a hold in the drunk tank?" Aizawa asked.

"Yeah, the guy was reeking of booze and Touya here is like half his size and I came out to see this guy buggin' Touya saying he couldn't just change his hair color to hide." Kirishima explained.

"What did that guy mean, Touya?" Aizawa was now leading them to the dorms.

"Well, I mean. My father kicked me out about a month ago and that guy found me and took me home two weeks ago but all he did was treat me like a maid and would hit me all the time. I thought maybe if I ran away and dyed my hair he'd forget about me." Touya was quiet, which helped with the dorms they were passing by.

"Shitty Hair, you're finally back. I wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to dye my hair brown next time you dye yours...red." Bakugou stopped when he saw Aizawa and Touya. "Okay, tell me why I see a goth Todoroki. And where's his scar?" Touya looked at Bakugou and looked confused.

"Bakugou, this is Touya, Todoroki's brother. He's going to be staying in the dorms temporarily until we reach a good decision of where he's going." Bakugou's brows furrowed.

"Alright. Anyway. Kiri, about my hair. Next time can you pick up light to medium brown and make my hair look like my dad's?"

"Yeah, sure!" 

"Bakugou." Touya piped up.

"What, Cotton Candy?" Bakugou asked.

"Here." he handed the box of brown dye to Bakugou. "I was going to dye my hair to hide from a creep but I guess I don't really need to anymore since Kirishima turned him in. It's light brown."

"I like this one. We're stealing him into our friend group, Eijiro." Katsuki announced.

"I had a feeling you'd like him." Eijiro smiled, dragging Bakugou along to his room with Touya and Aizawa following behind.

"What's up, Old Man, you wanna supervise or something?" Bakugou asked as he opened the brown box of dye.

"I'd actually like to talk to Touya about his father and what happened." Aizawa told him.

"Oh, it's okay if they know, I don't mind." Touya whispered.

"You said your father kicked you out. Why is that?" Aizawa asked. Bakugou looked furious now and Kirishima seemed mad. Touya shrunk into himself even before he answered.

"Shoto is his prodigy, he doesn't need me anymore. And, when he gets tired of his toys, he destroys them. He beat me within an inch of my life and threw me out. I survived on my own for two weeks and then that guy, Ryuu, found me and took me to his house. He kept me like a maid and would beat me if things weren't perfect. I ran away from him this afternoon and I was going to change my hair color and run away to somewhere else." Touya admitted.

"Alright. So we'll be keeping you here until we can find a suitable housing situation. How old are you?" 

"16, I turn 17 in January." Touya confirmed.

"So while you're here, I'll have you enrolled and you'll be staying with my class for the foreseeable future. Given you've already made friends on this level, there's an empty room next to Bakugou's that'll become yours and I'll put a chair in the classroom for you." Aizawa told him. "Now I'm sure Bakugou and Kirishima can help you with a lot for now, I need to sleep and so do you kids after you're done with the hair dye. If you have any injuries, follow me back to the teacher dorms to be healed by Recovery Girl, but, otherwise, you can stay here." Aizawa added.

"Get some sleep, Mr. Aizawa!" Kirishima called after him.

"Be quiet." Came someone's reaction before the trio burst out laughing and went down to the commons to do Kirishima and Bakugou's hair.

"Okay, so I need to bleach my roots first and you don't need bleach." Kirishima began and Touya, for the first time in his life, felt like he was home even as Bakugou sat with brown dye finishing in his hair and Kirishima was washing out the bleach and drying his hair out for his own color. He felt wanted, finally.

Taglist: @lgbtforeverything @rin-tanaka

[mercutiotakethewheel]

Halp! I read Crooked Kingdom and Spinning Silver in the same week. Is there any point in reading any other book ever again?!?!?!?!?!?!!!?!!! (Genuinely open to recommendations.) I am bereft at having finished them, and wondering how soon is too soon to reread Spinning Silver...

lmao god that’s a mood. I mean those are very much my two of my favorites, but of course I have recommendations.

Spinning Silver has a “mirror” novel called Uprooted that explores Naomi Novik’s polish roots and fairytale; it’s a twist on the classic girl gets sacrificed to be locked in a tower by a “dragon” but with wizards and a sick wood.

As for the grishaverse, I don’t know if you’ve already read the grisha trilogy or the Nikolai duology, but I certainly recommend King of Scars at the very least. Nina’s in it and Nikolai and Zoya are two of the best grisha trilogy characters (along with Genya, Tolya, and Tamar who are all also here). I haven’t about to read Rule of Wolves but I haven’t yet. Now the grisha trilogy is disappointing in general, but especially in comparison to Crooked Kingdom, Bardugo’s best novel, in my opinion. However, it’s also not quite as bad as everyone says. The worldbuilding established here is pretty cool, the politics in seige and storm are really fun, and there are really cool characters in it, even if the main protagonist… well. Alina’s not actually a boring or awful of a protagonist, or at least she has the opportunity not to be. She’s incredibly selfish to the point of moral ambiguity, and she’s terribly funny and combative. However, and this is my main issue with these books, she is very much punished by the narrative anytime she seeks agency or power or really does anything interesting, which leaves us with our magical girl chosen one just sort of passively shoved around the board.

Bardugo also wrote Ninth house, which I highly recommend. It’s an adult novel, so the violence -and there is a lot of it- tends to be described and gory and there’s a lot of talk about drug abuse so keep that in mind (plus the main character being abused and her best friend being killed/raped/drugged) so keep that in mind. The main protagonist is really interesting, and features Bardugo’s usual moral greyness. She’s angry, she can see ghosts, she’s traumatised, she has a terrible secret, and she does all of her fighting for abused women. The book has a lot of commentary on classism and elitism, as one should expect from a book about an impoverished women attending an ivy league with dangerous, poorly run, magical societies in it. The worldbuilding is a treat, but expect a lot of ghosts and a lot of rituals.

If you’re looking for more fantasy novels with fairytale vibes/retellings and strong female characters, that’s one of my favorite genres, so I have a few. I’m terribly fond of A Creature of Moonlight, which features a moving wood, a dragon’s daughter, royal court politics, and an uberindependent protagonist. The Cruel Prince is the only faerie book that counts along with the rest of Holly Black’s works, and if you’re looking for more enemies to lovers, you are in luck. The main reasons to read this book, though, is the political intrigue and the murder happy main character. The Once and Future Witches is a take on the suffragette period and witch fairytales. It’s not necessarily my favourite nor do I think it has the makings to be anyone’s favorite, really, but I do recommend it if only for the fairytale retellings and historical elements. Howl’s Moving Castle is an absolute delight, with lots of fun, bickering, main characters, and a very fairytale take on the magic system. I need to read Deathless so bad, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet. I hear only great things about the retelling of the Russian fairytale, though, so I’ll go ahead and recommend it.

Revenge stories are also a favourite of mine, so if you want more of those, my main recommendations are The Count of Monte Cristo and Vicious. The Count of Monte Cristo features our antihero being wrongfully imprisoned due to the machinations of three people. After escaping and getting rich beyond his wildest imagination, Edmound seeks to utterly ruin all three of them, destroying a lot of innocent lives in the process, rethinking the ethics of his revenge plan a lot, and a lot of claiming he’s sold his soul to become Providence. The main drawback is that the novel deals handedly in Orientalism( though I have a lot to say about why discussion of Orientalism is important to understanding Edmound’s character and why he is percieved the way he is by the other characters) and that it features an enslaved woman falling in love with her captor, who is also our protagonist. So yeah, grain of salt. It was written in 1844. Vicious tells us the backstory and the mainstory side by side throughout the novel, featuring two ex-best friends who experimented with killing themselves in order to gain superhero powers. When one of them lands the other one in prison and devotes his time to killing other ExtraOrdinaries, what our superheroes/more-like-supervillains-usually are called, because he likes to play god, our protagonist, the imprisoned friend, escapes for a revenge quest. Along the way he forms an incredibly clunky, adorable found family. I love this novel so much.

If you’re looking for more historical fantasy, I have some recommendations here as well. Diviners is an occult murder mystery set in the 1920s, that really really spends time putting you in the 1920s. It features a fun ensemble cast that grows with each installation, though the main main character of the first book does take a while to grow on you and there’s a boring ass love triangle. Read it for the 1920s and the ensemble cast that really takes off in the second book. The Poppy War is based on the Second Sino-Japanese War with a very enthralling magic system, and a main character who takes moral greyness to whole new heights. It has a laundry list of trigger warnings you need to read before you pick up the book, but the two most important things to understand before getting into it is that there’s a section based on the Rape of Nanjing, which does not pull its punches and the first book ends with our protagonist committing magical genocide on an entire country. In general, this book absolutely refuses to pull its punches and that’s my number one reason for recommending it. London Calling is an exploration of fatherhood with themes on family and catholicism that features time traveling to the London blitz. It’s barely fantasy, and it’s again not a favorite nor will it become yours, but it’s very moving.

Also, this is more of a general recommendation, but I highly recommend Gideon the Ninth. “Necromancer Lesbians explore a haunted gothic castle in space.” What more do you need to hear? Our main character is a snarky butch swordswoman in the first book and the second book is her goth depressed over-achiever enemy turned sort of girlfriend turned mind pal. The fun villain behavior is off the chart, the worldbuilding is immaculate (there’s an in-universe essay in the back that finishes with someone’s snarky graffiti), and it’s funny as hell. The book is about necromancers so the gory descriptions of dead bodies is very much not for the faint of heart. Keep that in mind.

[arce-elliot]

Magnus Archives - First Impressions (151-175)

We’re almost there, gang. Out of the Lonely and into the Eyepocalypse we go! Blah blah I had 75% of the series spoiled and am jotting down my thoughts, you know the drill.

EP 151 (Big Picture): - OH SIMON??? - okay okay Simon's kinda funny, you go you funky little sky grandpa - Martin Tell Her The TRUTH EP 152 (A Gravedigger's Envy): - oooh another ancient one - hey that's terrifying wtf - can someone please comfort jonny boy good lord EP 153 (Love Bombing): - Idk why the cult ones freak me out, maybe because cults are real? - oh god what's gonna happen to that dog - I literally just made my dinner with white wine vinegar that's a little old are you sHITTING ME - GIRL GET OUT OF THERE WHILE YOU HAVE A CHANCE YOU KNOW SOMETHING'S OFF - AYYY THE HUNTIN' GANG - tbh it was weird that they helped him even though they knew he wasn't human actually - DAISY!!!!! - Jon can you chill w/ the sass if you're not gonna help - Okay I'm gay but Daisy Growl Hot - Two dying monsters trying to reconcile their humanity, this is sad I hate it here EP 154 (Bloody Mary): - oh god it's This Episode I've been dreading it poor Eric - g o d Gertrude sounds so upset - I would die for Eric - "Eric I'm gonna count to ten and you're gonna tELL ME HOW YOU QUIT" - I'm already crying good god - "he needed me" o w - MARTIN GOT TO SAY FUCK!!!!! - O U C H - i am so upset FUCK this podcast - the catalogue of the dead is just the Delano-Keay family album EP 155 (Cost of Living): - CALL HER OUT JON - Tova, to this doctor's heart: it's free real estate - A FUCKING C H I L D?????? - ah yes, some more DIY surgery, who needs doctors when you have knives? EP 156 (Reflection): - ayyyy adelard how are ya - oh fun flesh time - oh? extinction? - also that was gross what the fuck - M A R T I N EP 157 (Rotten Core): - go save Martin before I cry - ADELARD!!! - ah no, I'm gonna miss this dude he was kinda cool - this hits different in corona times - okay this is actually pretty gross wtf - Martin's lonely because he chose to be, Jon is lonely because everyone hates him, poetic cinema EP 158 (Panopticon): - Ah Shit Here We Fucking Go - OH WHAT THE FUCK NOT!SASHA???? - AYYYYY THERE'S JONAH MAGNUS WELCOME HOME RAT BASTARD - uh oh bye bye Gertrude Time - mom and dad are fighting to be Martin's favorite parent lmao - no not the promise :C - Martin is the brain cell, he really just played both these men like kazoos - gdi Peter give me my boy back EP 159 (The Last): - hi I am Sad - Marto blease just go with the tired eyeball man - "i see you" MY B O Y S EP 160 (The Eye Opens) - oh lord here we go - at least we get some Jonmartin conversation - Monologue Time! - Jon: can I just say, from the bottom of my heart...my bad EP 161 (Dwelling): - welcome to the apocalypse bitches - FINALLY i've been waiting for these tapes for my entire life - TIMMMMMM! SASHAAAAA! - Elias being a normal person is unsettling - ALL THE EYE JOKES gdi I refuse to simp for eyeball man - THE JARRING "ARCHIVIST" I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD - "If I wish for all of you to go away do you think it'll work?" well it worked on Tim and Sasha - Elias: I'm a cool boss, I can drink wine - the image of Jon just huddled on the couch with a bag of tapes and listening to them over and over is so sad - sorry Gertrude no Sasha, just a sad little man - thank u for the powerpoint Gertrude - JON DON'T SNAP - i love them so much your honor EP 162 (Cosy Cabin): - GERRY GERRY GERRY - okay Gertrude and Gerry are adorable I love goth boy and his badass grandma - Gerry, ever the pragmatist: but what about TAXES gertrude - Tim and Sasha interacting is the sweetest thing ;_; - oh this is AFTER the hookup lmao - OH WAIT Sasha canonically knew about Danny??? I didn't know that oof - Oh Jon's getting a phone call I suppose - Jon's trying so hard to be dramatic and Martin's like "okay bitch grab ur backpack and lets go" EP 163 (In The Trenches): - "Tell everybooooody I'm ooon my waaay, new frieeends and new plaaaaces to seeeee" - YESSS LET MARTIN CURSE OVER THE GUNSHOTS AND BAGPIPES - "Martin can you stand over there and cover your ears while I cast Eldritch Ramble" EP 164 (The Sick Village): - another one that hits different in corona times - I hate the word soupy - what in the midsommar - if you can't find your own statements, DIY your own - Martin: fuck u Jon, Helen's my friend now - Martin: can I get an Uber, can I PLEASE get an Uber EP 165 (Revolutions): - this is my friend's favorite episode so I'm excited - oh circus music gross - THE RHYMINGGGGG OH I LOVE THIS - my arms are sore from happy stimming at this audio oh my god - SHUT UP JON IT WAS A GOOD POEM - GET HER ASS JON - is that our first "Ceaseless Watcher"?? I think it was! - Jon: Level Up! - Martin: that's hot EP 166 (The Worms): - HELL YES JON SAID FUCK - oh worm? - Martin answer your damn phone - awww Martin don't doubt yourself :C EP 167 (Curiousity): - Fiona: lmao watch this -passes out- - oh I didn't realize Eric was one of the OGs, their conversations make more sense now - Michael :c - Gertrude you got played like a fiddle damn EP 168 (Roots): - jealous Martin lmao - Jon just tell him why you woke up that would probably solve this - As someone who also freaks out about every little twinge this episode felt targeted EP 169 (Fire Escape): - desolation time? desolation time. can't wait to walk through hell - so aside from Smirke's 14 we have the 3 additional fears: the Extinction, the Scotland, and the Landlord - oh this one is terrifiyng i love it - OOOOH the "jons" slowly fading in was really clever - G O D martin sounds so defeated poor boy EP 170 (Recollection): - Martin finding tape recorders is the cutest thing - Oh fuck are we in the Lonely oh shit - this is so disconcerting i love it - someone get this man a better chair EP 171 (The Gardener): - Martin: damn that's a lot of bones - oh not THIS dude again I can barely understand him oh my GOD - well that was interesting EP 172 (Strung Out): - oh web? - oh this is sad shit - I think this is one of the worst domains yet for me personally this sounds like hell - g o d the web makes my brain hurt blease Jonny I'm stupid EP 173 (Night Night): - oh dark? - oh so the darkness is just the apocalypse daycare? nice - oh and this tween runs it, nice - Jon: are you SURE you want me to kill this middle schooler? - wow this is depressing EP 174 (The Great Beast): - oh hunt? - oh vast? lmao that's what i get for assumptions - Martin just wants to kill a man is that too much to ask someone give him a gun EP 175 (Epoch): - ex...tinct...ion? - “Peter was right” no FUCK YOU I refuse to give Peter any credit LOOK ADELARD WAS RIGHT, Adelard Decker laid the BLUEPRINT - poor Jon he's gettin these hard-hitting google searches - Basira and Daisy?????? OH WAIT THAT MEANS OH NO

[fnaf-sxc]

What's your thoughts on each of the animatronics from fazbear frights series & the humans that had interacted with them so far?

Imma answer with the stories I know enough to have an answer

Into the Pit: I love Spring Bonnie so much oh my god?? He is the best, being creepy by doing nothing wrong or evil til the very end im disbsis second row of teeth and he cam DRIVE???. Oswald its fine, a lil bit of a brat but he is like 12 in the story, understandable (also their standarts of being short of money felt a lil weird to me but hey i barely know how my economy works). Their dynamic was the best thing of the book, the ending got me ":O" I enjoyed myself.

To be Beautiful: Elanor is... okay, is just Baby but skinny, both have the "uwuuwuw im innocent uwuwuw i lied i killed you uwuwuw bur people still love me uwuwuwuwu" trope I dont like. Sarah felt like a 90's american movie protagonist, a movie that didnt age well. Their dynamic was sweet but damn... I dont really like this story

Count the Ways: I love French Freddy I cannot WAIT for DHeusta and Dawko to release their song-- ok so he had the Ft Freddy happy go lucky personality but say creepy things- loved it. Millie its fine, she serve her purpose as a goth teenager, reminded me to Daniel from Amnesia TDD, where we slowly get all the pieces of her backstory. Their dynamic was fun, creepy or course but fun to read... the ending was brutal

Fetch: Good dog, best dog! I loved how he texted Greg to help him, im a fan of "looks so innofensive its creepy" vibe and Fetch had that. Greg was fine, I didnt get the whole plants read your mind stuff but he seem like a good kid. I liked the evolution of their dynamic, from curiosity to surprise, shock, the climatic anger (poor dog) and the pure sence of fear at the end. Instructions unclear.

Out of stock: Oh, my god, Chaser is pure nightmare fuel I loved what they did with him, from the looks to their mechanism, he was so cool. As for Oscar, he is one of the BEST protagonists this far? Likeable, loveable, easy to empatize and you care so much for him that you fear for his life. Their dynamic was fun, spooky! And the climax was awesome, gaming night with the boys went wrong (?

Step Closer: Foxy? Never heard of them... man this story lack from animatronic focus, it felt more like a Final Destination movie idea. Pete was fine, a brat but again theyre all minors this far is okay, the ending was sad. I dont think thet had a dynamic? Foxy was almost inexistent, never there, I didnt liked that dmskkss

Dance with me: Tfw you forget Ballora is mom material, this story is a guilty pleasure for me and I like Ballora's role, judging you from afar and their presence being important enough for you to change. Kelsey its fine, poor girl, im glad she had her redemption and the ending was cute... at first I didnt felt a connection with her? But whem she tried to steal the shoes and she confront it I root for her. Their dynamic was nice, story more present on the human but Ballora was consistent, i liked it.

Bunny Call: Ralpho is so BIG IM... and im intrigued in his whole being? I liked that trickster aura it give, never giving up til it completed their task. I didnt like Bob when I read the short resume, the whole "i hate my wife and kids" trope is a big nono for me.. but that changed when nightime came and he admit he loved his family, and the ending where he hug his kids melt my heart. Their dynamic was nice, they did the whole fnaf thing for one hour and it was entertain to read, Ralpho will revenge that eas only day 1 at camp (?

In the Flesh: ...alright, Springtrap was ok, idk WHY Matt program him to have knife to kill but alright, i'll take it... then he proceed to ruin this perfectly good AI by giving them no purpose in life so Springtrap enter a cyle of birth and murder, life and dearh that is just...BOI MATT CLOSED HIS EYES WHEN HE FOUND HIM DEAD??? Matt on the other half was so unlikeable, big irremeduable asshole,I didnt care about him til the moment he was agonizing, then and just then I saw a spark of something interesting... and then rip. Their dynamic was mmeeh? Springtrap was coded after Matt's anger and frustrations, and Matt blamed them for the stress he was going through when it was his own fault? The ending was good, I enjoyed that part because for one parragraph Matt though it was NICE to be resting in somebody's lap and being called Daddy (most likely he allucinated that), oohh what it could have been of his life if he wasnt a prick. The lil baby Springtrap was a surprise, the last spawn of VR Springtrap, I have nothing against it, im taking this baby-

I havent read or know enough about the other stories to comment properly

[datawyrms]

Structure

Dannymay 2020 Day : Bones Bones were a foundation. A constant one could rely on when making assumptions about a species. Humans had theirs inside, the small insects of the world electing for the reverse. 

Ghosts did not have bones. The ectoplasmic entities could vary and change immensely, even when found in similar habitats. So of course they did not feel pain, they were closer to large glowing slime molds than any living creature. To be so flexible and be so vulnerable to changes in state simply wouldn’t work if they could not do so without painful feedback.

Which sounded logical enough, but Danny was pretty sure he still had bones, or more importantly still felt the pain shuddering up his spine when slammed particularly hard into an unforgiving building.

Yet they insisted ghosts did not feel pain. The screams and reactions were fake. A ghost could only pretend. They might even fool themselves, but every ghost could be forcefully condensed to fit in a thermos and not be in agony, so all the pain was an illusion. They expected pain, so they ‘felt’ it.

Did it matter if the pain wasn’t real, if it was real to the ghost? He struggled with that argument, both wanting to bring it up and possibly have Jazz back him up with all her focus on psychology.  Yet he knew it would be waved off as a silly optimistic take. Ghosts were just monsters, and not very bright ones at that. Worrying about how his parents would be ‘hurting’ the ectoplasmic fiends should be put aside for more important things.

Would they consider the heavy choking weight that fell on his chest when he heard his parents had found another ghost to experiment on fake too? Maybe it was, if he couldn’t decide if he felt that way out of pity for whatever ghost it was, or if it was only selfish terror that hissed that could be him. Would be him, if they caught him. He just had to be more cautious, act faster.

He noticed the muted sounds more often now. The bones in their fleshy prisons, moving and sliding so people could move. The cracking snap of tendons, or the audible pop of gasses escaping when he cracked his knuckles. The way his Dad put too much strain on his knees at times, forcing the half ghost to bite back warnings. A human wouldn’t be listening for that, wouldn’t notice that. He couldn’t hear a difference between his own and his family’s. They felt real enough when curiosity had him probing inside his own arm in ghost form. He was only half ghost, maybe the others were different. Yet the argument hinged on how malleable ectoplasm was. He couldn’t explain where his leg bones went if he formed a ghostly tail. He couldn’t refute that being crammed into a thermos was only terrifying, not painful, and he doubted he had any structure like that. He couldn’t be that different. Not in a way that would matter.

“Danny, maybe you should consider telling them? Even Mom’s starting to catch on that you’re always on edge lately.”

He could only stare at her. “I can’t.” Can’t she see he’s not human enough to tell them? That the green that was ever present in his blood could be justification that he wouldn’t feel real pain?

“Danny, you know they love us too much to hurt you, if they knew they were scaring you-”

He shook his head “Ghosts don’t feel pain, remember? I can’t really be scared.”

She frowned at him, trying to catch his eyes as he instead focused completely on the tiles of the floor. “You know that isn’t true, you can’t let them get to you like that,”

“What if I’m wrong?”

“You aren’t,” She forced him into a hug, ignoring the seeping cold and how he muttered a number before hugging back. “You haven’t changed that much, little bro.”

How could Jazz know how much he’d changed? She wasn’t an expert. Yet the genuine warmth was comforting, even as it reminded him how cold he’d been lately. At least his movement had made as much noise as Jazz’s had. Something normal, even if counting the sounds of bones was distinctly not.

A ghost acts instinctively. It will do anything to accomplish whatever post-human desire caused it to form. A ghost’s structure does not depend on it’s formed body, instead it’s catalyst or ‘obsession’ will be reflected in how it takes shape. In this way, it is the closest thing these beings have as a ‘structure’, and it is as chaotic, messy and twisted as one would expect from a ghost.

It was strange to him that they could say a ghost’s mind had the most influence on them, while still stating they did not truly think or feel. Didn’t they feel the obvious itching contradiction in that? Though thinking ‘the bones are in your brain’ would probably be weird. He had always checked what his ghost form looked like after the incident with Clockwork, a habit that soothed his nerves when he awoke in the middle of the night with the reminder ‘I am inevitable’ ringing in his ears. Checking more often now, wary of changes he might not notice wasn’t that weird.

He wanted to be rooted, to be grounded. Stable, consistent. Firmly in line with the bones he had always had as a human.

Even if he knew he wasn’t all human anymore. He wasn’t even sure how human he was anymore as his powers grew. He could use more, do more without changing shape. Getting punched by Dash was almost reassuring. A real pain, a noticeable if not long lasting bruise. Still human. Still terrified it wouldn’t be enough when he was found out.

Tucker was the one who noticed the change to his ghost form first. One he had not even considered, not even thought of as an option.

“Are you really okay? How deep did he cut you?” his voice was higher than usual, rushing to his hybrid friend bandage in hand.

Danny had furrowed his brow at the question, removing his hand from the gash on his shoulder. It wasn’t leaking that much ectoplasm, his glove wasn’t that stained. “It probably looks worse than it is. Doesn’t really hurt, promise.”

Tucker had still looked disbelieving, but kept quiet until the wound was out of sight. Yet something was obviously still bothering him.

“Is something wrong Tuck?” His silence basically confirmed it, leaving him to fret over what sort of thing he’d managed to do to weird out one of his best friends now.

“Well nothing’s wrong.” The stress on the word ‘wrong’ was the opposite of encouraging. “Just uh. How long’s your skin been missing?”

“What?” he searched Tucker’s face for the hint of a joke, but wasn’t able to find one.

“Under your suit, I mean.”

That didn’t help. He looked down, grabbing the edge of one glove and pulling it up, barely managing to keep down the strangled cry of shock. No wonder Tucker had thought he’d been seriously hurt, with only bright green ectoplasm clinging on to cracked, faintly glowing bone in place of a layer of skin. He pulled it back sharply, not even wanting to think about how that had happened. No idea Tuck.” he forced out, trying to suppress the panic with a laugh. “Guess I’m really oblivious.” 

“You want to just go chill? I can put homework off if you need a goof off bud.”

“No, no. I’m fine.” He wasn’t fine; he had barely felt that because he didn’t have any skin,  what was wrong with him? “Just another weird ghost thing!”

“Danny. I can tell when you’re freaking out dude.” Tucker grabbed his shoulders, apparently oblivious to how completely gross his friend was for having a hazmat suit for skin. “You need anything?”

“My skin back would be a start but I don’t know where that is. Guess I left it in my other costume.” He couldn’t change back fast enough, one hand instantly on his arm as if his human skin would run off if he didn’t keep a hold of it.

“Sam would approve. Very goth.”

“Gross. The word you’re looking for is gross.” Or more like a ghost. Ghost’s bodies didn’t need to make sense. Only having skin on his face absolutely qualified as not making sense.

Tucker shook his head, dragging his friend along so he wouldn’t just stress out in the middle of nowhere for hours. “It’s not like anyone can tell, if you’re worried about that.”

“I didn’t even notice! That can’t be good.” His parents were right, he didn’t feel it because of course he doesn’t feel his suit taking damage and if they’re right about that-

Tucker snapped into his thoughts, clapping his hands. “Danny, look at me.”

He did, trying to keep his fingernails from digging further into his skin.

“You know we’re your friends no matter what, right? So focus on that for me, okay?”

Tucker had been there since the beginning. Same with Sam. Even after the future that didn’t happen. His breathing finally slowed, though he couldn’t get himself to relax his hand. His friend was still waiting patiently, though he’d somehow guided them out of the way of any other sidewalk traffic without him noticing. “I’m okay.”

“Dude, it’s okay to not be okay sometimes. You need another minute?”

“...Another wouldn’t hurt.”

“Cool.” He leaned against the building, glancing upward. “Games or movies tonight?”

It was just a distraction, a way to keep him from going back down the mental paths again, but it was genuine and it helped. “Should probably play something, dono what.”

“I’ll find some new thing so we can suck at it all night.” Tucker fished out his PDA “I’m vetoing horror, since I’m a wuss.”

The half ghost managed to crack a smile. “I guess I can survive that.”

His parents might be right about ghosts. About him, not having his own structure or bones. He did have people that provided that structure though.  It would have to be enough, for now. Though he did not care to dwell on what would happen if those ‘bones’ broke.

[glitterytidalwavedragon]

Putting it Out There (A Biracial Child)

I’ve always wanted to address this, I just never knew where or how to. But, as I write, I see the influences come into play more and more (More so when I am writing my B.B fanfic and the Tourist), so I thought, now is a good time as any and this is the only account and platform I feel safe (maybe because I don’t have 200+ friends or followers here who know me outside of social media). I also feel as if this prospective of life isn’t given much attention or heard. 

I, as some may know cause I had commented as such, am a biracial child. My father is a Caribbean Hispanic male and my mother of German and Italian descent. 

This does not mean I have the best of both worlds. In fact, most of the times I feel alienated. 

Born in the early 90′s, the song “Livin’ La Vida Loca” by Ricky Martin was every where. My mother would tell me that song was about me, now I was 5-6ish. I thought she referred to me liking cats, and trying to go out to perform a crap version of ‘Singing in the Rain’ along with the love for magic. 

No, it wasn’t so innocent. It was straight up because of my skin tone. I looked like the girl the song was describing. I had no idea. Nor did I realize a silent war was raging in my family. 

Growing up was...hard to say the least. It is even harder when you have racism on both sides pointing fingers at each other. On my mother’s side, my aunt and uncle wouldn’t allow me to visit unless it was a holiday to which there was pressure from the family. Out of spite, they would invite my much older siblings father over to cause a fight (The man did not celebrate christmas). Meanwhile my other aunt would tell me over and over again I was Italian. In the end, during these events I would end up alone and not know why. 

Now lets turn to the other side of the family, my father’s. My first words had been Spanish. Yet, I lived with English speaking relatives... guess who stopped speaking Spanish for a long while. When visiting my family on his side, none of of my relatives would address me, only if they had to because my father was not around. These people knew how to speak English, very well even though they had moved from their native island. They just refused to speak to me. This sucked cause where it was 3 people on my mother’s side, it was 16 aunt’s and uncles on my fathers not counting the dozens of cousins I had. So, as the other family events, I ended up alone not knowing why. 

The answer was rather simple but much to complicated for my child self. Both sides of my family was and still is completely racist. My white mother was near exiled for being with a man many would consider black (he considers himself Spanish and oddly doesn’t get the fascination on why his skin matters or makes me worry about him when he is stopped by cops...). I was the ‘mixed’ baby, a simple of her family’s shame. 

My father’s side could not care what color my mother was, only that she was not Spanish. For those who don’t know, Spanish can be an array of color, its cool. But, she was no Spanish, did not speak Spanish and therefore my father was exiled by everyone but his own mother for many years (which is why we ended up in family events, my mama wanted to see her youngest grandchild by her baby boy). This meant being put at the back table, being openly mocked, and never told of big family events like babies or weddings. 

This only lead to more fighting at home and in the end even my own siblings, alienated me. It was a pretty lonely experience. 

This carried on to school and friendships. Elementary was not fun, but I felt the effects more in Jr. and High school. In elementary I was grouped with the other Spanish kids, because starting in late summer I had my Spanish tan on and therefore, I was not white to other white kids. But I did not speak Spanish. At one point I spoke gibberish to just to be able to hang with the Spanish kids at recess. It worked and I still don’t know how. 

In Jr. ahhhh... at one point my family was making good money, which originally, it once took the income of five adults to keep us afloat, now it just took 2. My father and my grandpa (who I will talk about later). We moved to a ‘nicer’ neighborhood. In the early 2000′s that mean, a white neighborhood. Boy, did I stick out. 

Now you might think “But you grew up in NYC, said you were from Brooklyn” well, here is a fun fact. Nothing is more segregated than NYC schools. The north did not do busing like the south did, so white schools stayed mostly white while schools in low income areas stayed mostly black or other minority races. I was a very tan child going into a white neighbor hood to a white school. Lets top it off that I played video games and Yu-Gi-Oh, HA! 

I received hell. I had legit parents sneer at me, and girls asking me if I had sex because I was Spanish. A 12 year old, got hit on by 15 year olds because they thought my race made me easy. I was 12, all I wanted was to collect cards and play Pokemon on my stupid advance, I had no time for boys unless they were anime. But... someone (more than likely their parents) had set these ideas in their head on how Spanish people, more so girls, acted. 

Then I realized, I really liked all things Gothic. A Spanish Goth.... it pains me to think about it. Everything from poser, to faker, and ‘trying to act white’ was laid on me. I could not wait for Jr. High to end. And when it did, a whole 180 happen. 

I was no longer Spanish. I did not know why, just everyone referred to me as ‘the ONLY white girl’ in the school and that is not a joke. My school, was dubbed the worse in all of Brooklyn and shut down, which I believe it was dubbed that because of the 1% white population... I was the 1 after my second year when the other white kid (who was a boy people asked was my boyfriend) graduated. Now, in high school it wasn’t the kids who gave me hell. It was the teachers. 

In fact, high school led me to meet others who were also feeling alienated. One of which I am very close to, a black man who is Jewish (adopted by a white couple) and gay. He did not where he belonged either. In the mid-00′s to be a black gay man living near the ghetto was dangerous. I can’t count how many times he had to hide who he was so he wouldn’t get shot. Nor could I count how many times my other friend coped with being a biracial black man who loved anime and being goth so much he was bullied for it when we weren’t together (who I ended up dating throughout high school). 

Suddenly being labelled white get me an acceptance I was not expecting. I ended up being popular against my best efforts and people who I did not know knew me. At 15 I did not get what had changed, because no one had told me yet. No, I figured it out at 16, when I was placed in senior English because of my grades. My English teacher told me, I was white, in the worse why I could ever imagine. 

My English teacher, a beautiful black woman who celebrated her African roots, gave an assignment one day. I was one out of five in a class of thirty who did it, because I did it in her class the day before. I played sports, so did half the other kids, I did not have time after school. This did not sit well with her, she was mad, which was an understatement. So, she turned to the class and said

“This is why our people end up in Jail or having babies to early. Because like black people don’t take education seriously.” Then called be out by name and continued “is why she will end up being successful, because white people know the importance of an education.” 

First off, she was very racist towards EVERYONE, second I at 16, who was always called Spanish in school was now labelled white in front of everyone by an adult. I was both confused and terrified as my boyfriend who knew my family cared JACK SHIT about education looked ready to kill her. Luckily, he just walked out of class and waited for me as I was too studded to move. 

I later asked him if he thought I was white, he admitted he did until he saw my father and called me biracial. For the first time in 16 years, I had been called biracial. Went home, did not tell anyone what happened, asked my mother if I was biracial and she said yes. To shorten this up, this was what life felt like, 

At home, I had no race. Neither side welcomed me. 

In school, I was told I was Spanish and had to fake my way in the Spanish group.

Jr High, I am now trying to distance myself from everyone as being Spanish makes me a target. 

High School, I thought being Spanish would be a good thing. Now everyone is telling me I am white. 

I had not idea who or what I was. 

All I ever wanted was to be me. I wanted to understand why my family never got close to me, and I wanted friends who were friends because I was me. 

It was like I was being ripped to pieces. I could be what others wanted or be no one at all. I had no idea what to do. If people at the new school found out I was Spanish, would I become a target again? I was allowed to freely play games, watch anime, and be my gothic self if I were white. But that also meant I could not hang out with my friends who lived in the Ghetto, shouldn’t like rap, R&B, and reggaetón or use the slang I grew up always using. 

To be a Spanish person trying to be white

or 

A white person trying to be black/another minority of color. 

I had watched as the former got my friend (boyfriend at the time) kicked out of classrooms as he was compared to those involved in columbine shooting from teachers since he was different. Also the hell he received from other boys for cosplaying and playing anime based card games. At one point it was so rough he thought about dropping out and I begged him to stay along with his mother. I was so afraid of going through that again.

So I kept my mouth shut. 

I took on the military standard of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”. My father never came to the school because he worked so much so no one knew. Everyday, I just took what my English teacher said to be without any force back. When Obama was voted in, she told me I had no right to celebrate, that my people had JFK and that Obama was for all the minorities to celebrate. I fell into a dark hole of hating myself. My home life was awful and now school I had to pretend to be something I wasn’t comfortable with. I started ditching classes, got into more fights than I would care to admit, did some really shady stuff and began hurting myself. 

The only joy I got was when I busted my ass grades wise and got out of school six months early. I did not have to go to school anymore and I could lock myself away to be no one but myself. It was lonely but I found company in books and my art. Through art I was allowed to be me and no one could take that away. 

When I returned for Graduation I June, did I get the final laugh on that English bitch. My mother and father showed up, she asked if my father was a cab driver helping my mother as she had gone blind. I told her, rather happily, that was my father. She went from joy to sheer disgusts faster than you can blink. For years she kept talking about who ‘mix babies’ never got any where as their fathers were never around. Yet, despite me hardly showing up, I gradated top of my class, never had a baby nor was I ‘loose’ (In fact I feared sex as a teenager), and my mixed couple parents as she lovingly called it, were together. 

She walked away from me and never said a word since. 

But now school was over, college was starting. I still hadn’t figured out who I was. Was I white/Italian or Spanish. In college I learnt no one was going to tell me who I was anymore, nor did they care. At home, it was still a battle of the races. Finally, one of my cousins spoke up and declared I wasn’t Spanish as I knew nothing of the language. At home, my aunt and uncle decided I was Spanish and called me a ‘Spick’ as a joke. I did not take it as one and therefore I was called ‘uptight’. 

My siblings also informed me, if I wanted free college to put down Spanish on everything unless it was the census. Then I should be white. Sometimes I still run into people who think I am one over the other. I had people come up to be speaking Spanish to be highly offended when I tell them I don’t speak the Language well. (I tried learning but it is hard when motivation is not there). 

In recent years, I had someone at work tell me how they met a Spanish person, shockingly where my father works, and then described in detail my father and then tell me they thought he was illegal since he looked the type. All because they thought I was white... proud to say that person got fired for being racist.I did also inform them that was my father to their response was “you’re one of them”. 

It never ends. 

No, the reason why I haven’t been driven insane is because of my late grandpa. My grandpa was a man I adopted to be my grandfather. My biological grandfathers on both sides died long before I was born and the man I adopted was close to the family and acted like a father to my parents. He was a good man and the reason I had a childhood. 

He once went through the same, Italian/Jewish, you wouldn’t think there would be a problem but when he was growing up that equaled Catholic/Jewish, to which he too was either pinned in the middle or rejected by both sides, this is the 1930′s-1940s. He gave me the best piece of advance ever. 

To be myself. 

That if I were myself, then it did not matter. The moment I stopped being who I am, that passing or faking would never tell me who my real friends were. That if he, could love me for who I was, a weird girl who liked boy things and drawing strange looking characters, then anyone else could. Being a stranger to myself would never bring happiness. So, after years of not listening to that, I finally decided to listen to my Grandpa. 

I know who I am, I know the history of my families. They might not like that I am not what they want me to be, but they don’t have to live with me. I have to live with who I am. My friends are my friends because they know who I am, not who they think I should be. 

So for all my biracial brothers, sisters and them’s, be yourself. Don’t try to force yourself into a mold, it isn’t worth it. None of it is worth it. 

Look yourself in the mirror and say your name. Say it loud and let everyone know they can not define who you are, and so what if they say you don’t belong, guess what? You do if you want. You belong because YOU say so, because that blood runs in your veins as well as theirs. So you get to make that choice! 

Make that choice of being you! Define yourself to YOUR standards. 

Don’t let anyone take that away. I know I won’t.

So here I see myself! A strange fox who changes coats with the seasons, that loves anime and video games, who plays Yu-Gi-Oh and listens to opera and Metal while can twerk and get low to Daddy Yankee! Who eats sushi and makes a mean chicken cutlet but can also make the best empanda with beans and rice with the rest of them!

And no one can take that from me.

[rosepetals-flyingbirds]

Blue Eyes. 8

With: Ghost!Ivar x Reader. 

Word Count: 4,484.

Note: That is my favorite chapter.

<< 

Laid behind the biggest tree where Ivar could have a good vision of the area -in any case someone gets close- you were watching his face since your body was almost above his and it gave you all the details you loved so much.

Your head on his right shoulder with your face near his, your finger tracing slowly his cheek up and down, Ivar likes to say you truly mesmerize him, but sometimes you think it’s the other way around. “Ivar?”

With his eyes closed and a grin he hummed. “Mmm?”

“Can we talk about your brothers?”

Ivar has barely mentioned them. You know he was the younger and the oldest wasn’t his mother’s son, it was Ragnar’s first marriage. “Why?”

He opened his eyes and looked at you, making his lips almost touch your own.

“I don’t know, I guess I want to know about everything… Sigurd was the one that killed you… do you hate him?” It was a delicate topic but glad you hadn’t to walk on eggshells with Ivar.

Shrugging Ivar started to move making you grunt when it made your loved perfect position end. “I don’t know, maybe not.”

“Do you think that is why you got locked? To find forgiveness on your ruthless heart?”

“Ruthless heart?”

“Well, you did pretty much bad things back in the day.”

“I guess, it was my fault.” Placing your elbow in the tree root you looked at him close by, searching his eyes. “I started the fight, and I would have killed him if it wasn’t the way around.” He simply stated, apparently the years alone taught him something.

“Do you regret it?” Ivar moved so he could lie on his side, looking up at you he shook his head.

“No.” He sincerely answered and you tried to win a few extra words, he wouldn’t declare his heart, in his mind, he has been doing this much lately.

Smirking you tried either way. “Why?”

He chuckled and got back on his previous position staring at the trees leaves avoiding your eyes. “You know why, you Christian.”

“Girls likes words, Heathen. And I mean, has anyone else around to make you feel emasculated.”

Ivar tried to understand the word but he couldn’t find a idea of what it actually meant. “What?”

“Normally when men want to say something cute they don’t because they are too scared to hear any nicknames from their friends.”

Ivar smiled at the stupidity. “That is stupid.”

“It’s.” You stated and lifted your hand to touch his forearm. “Especially because you don't have friends." You joked. "But still…” Trancing your finger up and down you looked at him pouting.

Rolling his eyes he looked at you with a serious expression. “Okay. Y/N Y/L/N I love you, and even that I spent years, and I mean years! Here, alone, sad, and mad!” He exclaimed but took a deep breath avoiding your eyes, he was too nervous to say it looking at you. “I wouldn’t change a thing, because you make me truly happy.”

With an ear to ear smile you laid back and passed your leg around his waist.

“Awn! See?! It wasn’t that hard!” You lifted your hand and squeezed his face.

Ivar grinned and felt relaxed by your touch, he could easily become used to it, but stopped when he didn’t hear any word leaving you pretty mouth. “Don’t ‘awn’ me! It makes me feel emascula- emascu…” He didn’t remember the word you used.

“Emasculated!”

“I would ask what that means but I really don’t care.” He shrugged and looked at you, who was too fascinated by the number of eyelashes he had to say something else. “Well?”

Tracing his upper lip you smiled at the urgency he used. “What?”

“You need to tell me back!”

“Tell what?” You played coy and Ivar’s nostrils flared with his lips going into a thin line.

“Oh, yeah… Ivar, I love you. You make me feel… Like a protagonist in some sort of goth book for teenagers.”

Scoffing he grabbed your hand to stop wandering over his cold skin. “No no no I want more.”

“I said too much already.” A mischievous idea came into his mind and he started to tickle you making you try your hardest to not scream and take any attention to your locality. “Okay okay okay.” Calming down you looked at his hands raising yours to hold his just to make sure he wouldn’t ‘attack’ you again. “I love you and it’s sad that you are dead because you’re the first person I think when something good happens to me, you are the first one I want to talk didn’t matter if its 3 at afternoon or 3 in the morning. And also my impossible dream is to travel the world with you because I don’t believe it would be nice or pretty without you by my side.”

A blush came to his face and his lips quickly found yours, the kiss was messy because he couldn’t stop smiling. “That is better.”

A Few Days Later.

Another funeral was being made and you wanted to watch, of course you didn’t stand near the family because they would surely want privacy. Ivar was by your side and even if he watched funerals thousands of times he was seeing with different eyes.

You were so sorry about the situation that Ivar’s words went unnoticed. “I would come back to you.”

“What?”

The person being buried was a woman who got into a car accident, her husband was crying and Ivar sensed his pain.

“I would come back to you.” He repeated making you understand his deep meaning. “Somehow, I would find a way.”

You gave him a side smile and looked at your hands before glancing back at the scene. “How?”

He shrugged and lowered his eyebrows on deep thought, he didn’t know how. “I don’t believe they would take me now.”

He said somehow relieved, but felt a pinch at his heart thinking that the gods wouldn’t take him now, and maybe never. He was cursed to watch you die and he knew it would kill him. Just the idea of seeing a stone with your name on it... brought tears to his eyes.

You grabbed his hand and held onto both of yours giving him a reassuring smile, you didn’t know what to say and it was better to not bring any attention to you, since people could spot you talking 'alone’.

At the end of the day, you went home to take a shower and see if your father was okay before going back to the cemetery, since they wouldn’t finish the crypt work you took an inflatable mattress there a few days prior, it was definitely more comfortable than the bare floor.

You and Ivar had made sex other times and each one was becoming better.

Currently it wouldn’t happen since you were on your period, but either way, just sleeping his side was great.

Which worried you because you would certainly miss it when the work finish and the crypt become “occupied.”

Which day was great, once a guy tried to approach you which you politely declined, but as men don’t listen, he just backed off when you literally said: “I’m not interested, and if I have or haven’t a boyfriend is none of your business. Just because men can’t listen unless has another male on the story doesn’t make it right for you to bother me. Now if you excuse me, I have job to do.” The guy gulped and murmured something as “PMS” and walked away.

Ivar was surprised yet proud of your answer, he wanted to hear you calling him your boyfriend -how he wish you would call him husband- but he knew the guy was stupid enough and would make stupid jokes.

2 Weeks Later.

Eating your lunch you looked at Ivar watching the movie on your phone.

Ivar never ate around you. “Had you tried to eat?”

He shrugged but didn’t take his eyes off the device. “I don’t feel the urge to.” He shook his head but didn’t look at you to not lose his concentration in the medieval old movie. “No.”

“But have you tried?”

You grabbed your fork and filled with food. You pointed to his mouth and placed your other hand under the fork to make sure it wouldn’t feel on the floor.

“Here.” Knowing it would do no bad Ivar placed his mouth over the fork and chewed the food swallowing right after.

You looked excited and waited for his answer. “So?”

His face contorted like he had just eaten a lemon. “It tastes like sand.”

“What? How?“

He tried to get rid of the taste. “I will never do it again.”

Shrugging you kept eating your delicious food, even though your loved friend didn’t like it. “Well, at least it didn’t fell in the floor.“

“Why it would fell on the floor?“ Ivar asked confused.

“You know, you are a ghost and blah blah.“

“Y/N my prick literally entered you. It wouldn’t be food that would make me disappear.“ Choking on your food you started to cough, Ivar smirked at that, the fucker loved to make you blush. 

When you calmed down and drank a bit of water you punched his shoulder. “You know, if I die you know I won't join you in here.“ You pointed and he apologized with a smirk.

Blushing at his words you giggle feeling shy. 

Stupid feelings.

Mr.Hogh had made a quick travel letting the place only with you, gladly the city was on a holiday and almost everyone traveled.

Enjoying the quietness you laid next to Ivar under your favorite tree and you two talked until the sleep caught you.

While you were deep in your slumber Ivar was watching you, you were laid near him, your head on his shoulder. He played softly with your hair locks and his thoughts ran wild.

He was worried, you would die eventually. He hoped it would be later than sooner, but would you grow old living only for him?

Locked in a town you wanted to leave so badly before? He couldn’t allow that. 

“What do you do when I leave? Aren’t you tired? Matter fact what will happen when I die?”

But he also couldn’t get alone again, Ivar was between I love her and want her to be happy, and I love her but she is the only one and maybe that is why I allowed to fell for a Christian.

Ivar took a deep breath and tried to enjoy the moment, he could worry about the future later on.

Your father became better and with that Jane started to make more night shifts rather than the daytime. And with that you slept in the cemetery more often, you never felt so grateful for the city contributions getting low because with that they didn’t manage to finish the crypt.

The moon was glowing and you were laid on Ivar’s chest. His arms interlaced around you and he was telling you who was the moon. That it was a woman and all of her ambitions. You were fascinated one more time by his stories and soothing voice explaining so.

A hint of sadness got into you, you were truly happy to be with Ivar. But then the thoughts of growing old working only on a place made you sad, it was nice but it would always be like that.

Even a few thoughts of children came to your mind, it wasn’t something you were desperate to have, but eventually?

Maybe?

But a ghost wouldn’t "knock you up", and if it did, well it would surely bring a few problems.

But for now on it was great. You accommodated to his cold body against yours, to his voice so near you. It was all fine.

A few hours later you were asleep and Ivar was just gazing at you. He was truly mesmerized.

He heard a lighting and titled his head, the weather wasn’t rainy or anything.

Ivar saw a raven ran near him, he hadn’t seen one in ages. Then another flew by. 

He adjusted his body waking you up in the process, Ivar was staring at nothing and you asked what happened, worried if some stranger entered the place and found you asleep. “Can you see it?”

Looking around you couldn't spot a different thing. Ivar was seeing the ravens flying near each other while a few more flew to their reach. “Ravens.”

Confusedly you tried to follow his gaze, Ivar got to his feet and you did too completely worried. Ivar felt something gripping on his body, his head started to ache and he felt a bloody taste in his tongue. “Ivar?”

He walked ahead trying to reach the birds that joined more and more. The ravens quadrupled and soon enough their feathers were beating so strongly that the trees around moved in the air.

All you could see was Ivar with his hands bleeding looking at the air.

The ravens beat each other until they started to bleed, the blood spread in the floor and then the black feather turned into a large piece of cloth and the seer appeared in its place.

Ivar widened his eyes, not believing in what was in front of him.

“Come, son of Ragnar.” The seer told and Ivar shook his head looking over his shoulders to see you, but he saw nothing.

You saw nothing.

He was suddenly on a dark beach, the black sand on his feet and the man was near. The seer who wore the black cloak, a raven on his shoulder and a long stick cane supporting his tall body.

Ivar tried to walk but felt the heaviness in his legs and felt his old metal cane around his forearm and felt the thigh bracers around his legs. 

He yelled at the seer but the man only pointed ahead. Ivar saw Kattegat, saw his brothers and his mother pregnant with him. 

Everything was calm. 

Smiling Ivar couldn’t contain his joy seeing his mother. “Mother!” He shouted and tried to walk as fast as possible to reach her.

He almost did but she started to walk away with Siggy and the young sons of Ragnar, Aslaug placed her hand on her belly and grunted, Siggy helped her walk back to the great hall. “Come on, that one is wearying you already,” Siggy told and Ivar shook his head, he knew his time as a mere unborn baby was difficult for his mother’s body.

Ubbe and Hvitserk ran ahead and Siggy carried Sigurd aside Aslaug, Ivar followed them and saw the great hall, he hadn’t seen it for a long time.

“Mother mother! Look, I’m just like daddy.” Ubbe raised his wooden sword and Hvitserk giggled as his brother.

Aslaug walked to her bedroom ignoring her oldest son attempt, his face got sad and Hvitserk padded his older brother’s shoulder. 

“Is the baby, she is just tired.” Ubbe nodded and both ran around for the slaves’ sadness.

Ivar looked at Sigurd, he was so small and was sat alone looking at the fire. His eyes and hands moving with which flame, the boy looked at the small shield on the floor and grabbed it trying to find some sort of fun.

He was too young to play with Ubbe and Hvitserk, sometimes he looked at Aslaug’s belly and hoped he would win a good friend, a small brother who he would be like Ubbe is for Hvitserk. 

Sigurd liked Bjorn too, but he was never around.

Ivar looked at his brother with different eyes, he was just a kid. “You can’t do much with that,” Ivar said and pointed his fingers to the shield.

Sigurd looked at his side but shrugged, tilting his head Ivar sat by his side. Never in any of Ivar’s visions, someone noticed him.

“Sigurd.” Ivar called and the kid looked up.

“Who are you?” Little Sigurd asked, and Ivar got even more confused, he finally was happy with you, and then the seer took him away? 

“You don’t know who I am?” Ivar asked and Sigurd shook his head and looked back at his shield tracing his small fingers over the marks his brothers managed to do on the wood. Ivar found it better to not say 'I’m your dead brother’. “I’m a man that used to live here.”

“Really? Do you know my father? He is the great Ragnar Loðbrók! You heard of him, right?” It has such an enthusiasm for Sigurd pitched voice, Ivar couldn’t believe himself was smiling seeing his brother's innocence.

It wasn’t the brother that spent the majority of his life hating him, nor the man that ended his life.

No. 

It was just a lonely kid who was tired of being alone. “Yeah, I know him. He is truly a great man.” Ivar smiled thinking about his father, he truly missed him.

He darted his eyes to the thrones and remembered how he used to tell Hvitserk and everyone that he would be greater than father, unfortunately, it didn’t happen. “The greatest.”

Sigurd felt proud, he was the son of a great king after all. “And my older brother? Bjorn Ionside.”

Ivar smiled at his small voice, how small he was. “Ironside, yes.” He slowly corrected, Aslaug made the boys try all the names rightly, in her head everyone should know her children were princes.

Ivar used to hate how she always repeated all the names of her famous relatives while he couldn’t even speak rightly. “I heard a few stories.” Aslaug grunted on her room and Sigurd looked at it startled and shook his head. 

Looking back at the strange man he saw how worried he looked. “Don’t worry, is just Ivar.”

“Her baby?” Ivar asked while looked at the fire, was he really born to make people feel pain?

“Yeah, my small brother. The gods gave him to me.” Widening his eyes Ivar looked at the little kid at his side. 

“What?”

Sigurd extended his hands and tried his best to explain. “Look Bjorn is old enough to have his friends,” Using his index finger he pointed to the other hand with the five fingers up. “Ubbe have Hvitserk and, Hvitserk has my brother Ubbe.” He placed both index’s fingers together. “I,” He threw his hands to his lap and shrugged his small shoulders letting a puff of air before glancing at his feet. “I have no one. I want a friend. So one day I prayed for a friend. And then father came back and I thought it was it!” He yelled with joy remembering his father. “But he always goes away after a few days,” Looking at Ivar who almost jumped when the kid suddenly yelled again. “But then! Then mother told she was pregnant. And that is it! The answer to my prayers! They heard me. Right?”

Saying that Ivar was in shock was an understatement.

“You asked for m- Ivar?”

“Yes, I didn’t know his name was going to be that but yeah! I asked a Hvitserk for me, you know so I can be like Ubbe.” Ivar smirked and patted Sigurd’s head, which worked and Sigurd smiled at the tall man. “Do you want to be my friend too? Then you can be like Bjorn!”

Once Ivar watched a movie where some “random weird looking guy” traveled in time but he couldn’t change a thing. For a moment Ivar thought in using Sigurd’s innocence to make sure he wouldn’t hate him, but… if he did so, he would lose you, right? He wouldn’t die and wouldn’t find you.

“I wish I could stay, but I have somewhere to go.” Sigurd big smiled faded.

“It’s okay, everyone has somewhere to go.” Ivar’s cold-dead heart almost melted hearing the words.

Before Ivar could pick some careful words the door opened and the seer called him again, Sigurd didn’t look at the door or even showed any expression of having someone else in the place.

Ivar raised his hand but didn’t know where to place it. Choosing to place on his shoulder he took a deep breath.

“Goodbye, small friend.” Ivar got on his feet bringing his cane closer to support his weight.

Sigurd looked at him and the 'snake in the eye’ made Ivar regret all the stupidity he made with his brother.

“Goodbye Ivar.” The kid told but before Ivar could reply he was transported outside.

The sky shifted bright again and he heard a scream.

Aslaug’s scream.

The seer pointed inside the great hall again and Ivar walked grunting in pain in the process.

Inside he saw some random women around his crying mother and saw Ragnar near the door. Aslaug’s dress covered in blood and her sweaty face and pain made Ivar realize it was the day of his birth.

Ragnar was desperate, he couldn’t stop his hands and saw his mother almost giving up if it wasn’t for Siggy’s words.

After a few trials, the baby was born and Ragnar cut the umbilical cord with his bare teeth. Ivar saw himself as an innocent child, saw his mother covering his legs trying to prevent Ragnar’s words.

He heard an owl and the sound was somehow so captivating that Ivar didn’t even feel his legs walking to its reach.

He stepped into the dark florets and cursed when his cane got stuck in the mud, cursed until he saw his father approaching with some towels in his chest.

Ivar tried to give it a better look and when he did he saw it was baby-Ivar and not some towels.

Looking at the dark sky and watching the leaves leaving the tree his eyes floated with tears.

Ragnar kneeled on the floor putting Ivar there, an innocent kid that wasn’t the one to blame for his deformation, he was just an innocent being. 

“There is no other way, there is no other way.” Ragnar kept repeating.

Placing the axe near the baby’s neck, Ivar sobbed at the vision. He heard Ragnar’s words and tried to see his father point of view, but he made it!

Ivar made it even with his nonfunctional legs. 

Ragnar tears fell and he walked out of the place leaving the baby behind for the wolfs. Maybe Fenrir itself would devour the baby and prevent years of pain, Ragnar thought.

Ivar walked near the baby, if it wasn’t so difficult he would bend and grab him in his arms. But before he would try Aslaug reached the area and held her son on her arms.

Ivar’s fingers itched to touch her, to thank her for saving him. But she walked away before he could try to make her notice him.

Some kids started to laugh and it was so loud that Ivar walked to see what was happening.

While he walked the sky turned bright again. He reached the sound and it was a day he remembers too well. The first time he killed someone.

Sigurd and Hvitserk were running chasing some kids, everyone laughing and happy. Floki’s laugh for Ivar’s attention and he found his beloved uncle and him sitting inside a small cottage talking about the gods.

Floki saw the sad face on his believed nephew and grabbed the kid walking outside.

Placing young Ivar on his wagon the kids kept playing. Ivar held his cane near his body and looked at his side seeing the smile on his mother’s face. As Ivar well remember no one gave him the ball, no one until Floki intervened.

Ivar looked at his old self-smile, the innocence.

The calm before the storm.

When his axe hit the kid’s head he screamed and Aslaug ran to her child.

Floki looked at the situation and shook his head. “There is nothing here. Go.” He yelled at the people and children around gazing at the dead tiny body on the floor.

The mother holding the dead infant with torturous pain.

Ivar looked at Floki, saw the upcoming fear in his eyes. Floki was always a wise man. Sigurd running after his mother took Ivar’s attention and he followed his old family steps.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,”

Aslaug repeated over and over trying to calm herself rather than her son, she was scared of what the future would hold for him.

She felt guilty, the main reason was she was always so close to him. He told Ragnar they couldn’t have sex after Sigurd’s birth, told him that the next child would be born a beast.

She felt blamed for so.

Blamed for Ivar’s defective legs, incessant pain and evilness.

Horses galloping around made a sand smoke and Ivar fell on his butt, he coughed due to the sand and when it calmed down he saw a few men and women passing by with drums and flags.

“All hail King Ragnar.” Someone shouted and Ivar cleaned his eyes looking up.

Ragnar passed by him and Ivar’s heart beat faster. “Father! Father!”

Ragnar kept going on his path not hearing his youngest son’s yells.

Ivar grunted and got on his feet slowly trying to not make the pain worse, looking back at his shoulder searching the seer.

He saw the seer again. “What is this all about? Uh? And what is with the time changing?” He yelled mad and the sky shifted again. Ivar grunting at the seer and looked at his previous vision, but he saw Bjorn, Hvitserk, and Ubbe preparing to sail. Ivar saw himself at as a teenager and saw the look in his eyes. “My hair was terrible.” He thought of what would you say and laughed. “Oh Y/N, where are you?” His face fell.

“Ivar Ivar.” Aslaug ran near her son with tears in her eyes. “Don’t go.”

“Mother I need to, I don’t want the pitiful eyes anymore. 'Look, the cripple Ivar’ please mother.” Ivar heard his words and got happy about his decision, if he hadn’t left to England with his father, he wouldn’t have lived his life.

Looking back at the docs the seer nodded his head and called Ivar. “Follow me.”

Slowly walking into the woods the trees moved so the seer could lead Ivar. They walked and walked and Ivar was almost crying in unending pain. “Where are we going?”

The seer chuckled but didn’t stop his steps. “I thought you missed your memories.” The answer made Ivar confused, he saw his past before, he rather be reclining under the tree with you in his arms than drag his heavy form into the woods.

The cold weather made it look like the pain was bigger, Ivar could feel his spine almost breaking. “I can’t.” He stopped and the seer kept walking. “I said I can’t!” He yelled but the seer didn’t stop his steps.

Ivar feet got stock making he lose his balance and fell on the floor losing his cane.

Grunting he tried to make the pain go away somehow, he closed his eyes squeezing then tight and he heard some windy sound. The pain didn’t go away but at least he could breathe without feeling the sharp pain in his back.

Opening his eyes he saw his chariot, oh his chariot! Ivar loved the thing, how Floki made it especially for him, how the vehicle was his legs in battles. So grandly with the art that matched Ivar’s back tattoos.

Touching the wood he smiled, how his greatly fast his white horse moved.

The seer appeared again and saw Ivar’s smile. “Have been a long time, right?”

“A lifetime,” Ivar answered still in trance, so many memories, so many battles and victories.

“We have some other place to go, come.” The seer waited and Ivar got on his feet slowly. The pain subsided and he kept his walk.

Reaching some clear space he saw a village. The village where he died on, the future cemetery. “Why am I here?”

The seer didn’t answer and Ivar’s rage almost made him scream. Step by step he reached the nearest place. 

“Ivar you are crazy, we are brothers! We don’t have to fight.” Sigurd told but Ivar shrugged and smirked.

“You’re saying that because you know I’m stronger than you!” Ivar yelled and people gathered around, Ubbe was desperate.

Sigurd chuckled and gave him his shoulder. Ivar punched his shoulder and grabbed his axe ready to kill his brother, Sigurd out of an instinct used his sword and it entered Ivar’s chest.

“No!” Ubbe yelled and Sigurd widened his eyes seeing his younger brother bleeding on his sword. “What did you do!” Ubbe yelled and grabbed Ivar’s body.

Hvitserk ran into the scene and Sigurd was clearly in shock, Ivar started to gush blood out of his mouth and Ubbe was nearly crying. “Ivar! Ivar!”

“I’m so- sorry.” Sigurd chocked and gave a few steps backs. Hvitserk touched the sword and pulled it out from Ivar’s chest. “Sorry, I didn’t want to…”

Ivar saw the scene and realized the expressions, some Vikings were surprised but not sad. Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd were devastated.

“Why am I seeing it?” Ivar asked but couldn’t take his eyes off the scene. “Why?”

“You have to.” The seer answered blankly and Ivar saw Sigurd crying, he hadn’t seen it before.

A terrible pain reached Ivar and he grunted in agony. It was like the sting of the sword was reliving again. “Stop!” He yelled but the seer couldn’t do much.

“It was good to see you, Ivar.” The seer’s voice chimed in Ivar’s ears but he couldn’t open his sore eyes. The floor began to tremble and he dropped to his knees. He felt heartache and closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly trying to suppress the pain.

When the winds slowed down aside the shaking ground he opened his eyes finding himself on florets in the middle of the mountains.

And then.

He saw the golden gates.

Widening his eyes Ivar was speechless, he finally was in front of the golden gates of Valhalla.

“Ivar?“ A celestial voice said and Ivar could feel a shiver ran over his body.

“Odin?“

>>

[justanotherboyinblue]

weird asks that say a lot

in

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans? coffee mugs! it gives me a weird satisfaction

2. chocolate bars or lollipops? chocolate bars!!

3. bubblegum or cotton candy? not a big fan of either :/

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? well i’m homeschooled so that’d be my mother the gist of it was that i don’t focus well and get distracted easily

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? oh bottles for sure cannot tell you why but the old fashioned glass bottles of like pepsi or something? Love Those

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear? grunge i love it has the ‘i don’t care’ attitude basically just oversized stuff and a whole bunch of flannels

7. earbuds or headphones? headphones obviously, i’m a gamer what did you think i was gonna say

8. movies or tv shows? i tend to like movies better, but i do love myself a good tv show i think the pinnacle of tv shows done right is person of interest five seasons, i never got bored, it didn’t drag on, and it was always a good watch with good character chemistry

9. favorite smell in the summer? hmm either chlorine or beach smell because both mean i’m in the water And Ya Boi Is A Water Bitch

10. game you were best at in p.e.? i’ve never had p.e. and i think that’s my favorite thing about homeschooling

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day? i normally don’t, because i wake up 11:30-noon because i was up at 3am and i need my eight hours of sleep

12. name of your favorite playlist? some fucken bOPS

13. lanyard or keyring? i’d think key ring

14. favorite non-chocolate candy? uhhhhh literally all my favorite sweets are chocolate fuck probably cow tails

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? they all sucked and i rarely read any of them so

16. most comfortable position to sit in? either sitting on my ankle or having both legs hanging over the edge

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes? do flip flops count?

18. ideal weather? like, 75-80 degrees with a cool breeze or alternatively 5-10 degrees with Piles Of Snow Everywhere

19. sleeping position? usually on my left side, or my stomach

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a notebook, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)? i love writing on anything i can get my hands on, most times it’s a notebook i tend to always carry pen and paper with me because i Will Not Remember Anything

21. obsession from childhood? you know how people have like, a timeline in their head of their entire life? i did this when i was this age, etc.? yeah i don’t have that my memories are in a big pile in my head and i have to use like things around me to find out a general age it’s wild so i have no idea coloring? minecraft?

22. role model? any kind person ever

23. strange habits? i only shower at night, and once i get in my room and change into my pajamas i have No intention of leaving so i just brush my teeth in the shower

24. favorite crystal? amethyst? quartz? garnet? idk onlytherealonesknow

25. first song you remember hearing? it was a song that my mother used to sing to my brother and i at night when we were in bed, did you ever talk to God i’ve never been able to find it anywhere, but i love it and it has the Best Vibes attached to it

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather? S w i m

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather? cuddle obviously

28. five songs to describe you? uhh dear younger me- mercyme (Christian) the cult of Dionysus- the Orion experience lucky stars- Lucy Spraggan escapism- steven universe? maybe? sunkissed- Khai dreams???? bro i got no idea

29. best way to bond with you? over shared experiences, or a shared love of something just best way to bond? by relating

30. places that you find sacred? not sure old buildings, sites of historical importance, places marred by tragedy

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? oh boy here we go my tightest pants, obviously, my heels, and my slutty shirt or my comfy clothes i can kick ass in anything

32. top five favorite vines? i am the sand guardian, guardian of the sand. Posiden quivers before him! fuck off!! *BAM* this is why mom doesn’t fUCKING love you!!! please let this be a normal field trip. with Miss Frizzle?? un-fucking-likely Jeremy eat a snickers. why? you’re not you when you’re hungry. it’s gonna take more than that for my fatass meanwhile, in 1957. your honor, permission to treat the witness as hostile. permission granted. i’m gonna shoot you in the face. that’ll ruin my day

33. most used phrase in your phone? i have no phone but i do say valid a lot because All You Fuckers Are Valid

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? michigan plumminggggg, we’ll exceed your expectaaationsssss

35. average time you fall asleep? three am

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

37. suitcase or duffel bag? backpack

38. lemonade or tea? lemonade

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie? cake

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? idk the cat pissed on my brother’s papers once

41. last person you texted? moje rojenia

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets? Hoodie Pouch

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket? hoodie, obviously

44. favorite scent for soap? Manly Smell

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero? mmmmmm sci-fi

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in? long sleeve tee, plaid pajama pants

47. favorite type of cheese? Mozzarella

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be? pineapple i’ll eat you out ;)

49. what saying or quote do you live by? if someone makes you happy make them happier

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? my mother made the weirdest fucking sound once, and i couldn’t breathe and fell off the chair

51. current stresses? school, driver’s training, some other stuff

52. favorite font? Kristen ITC

53. what is the current state of your hands?  ????? clean?? i have a ring on my right middle finger, some scars on both hands, my nails are short

54. what did you learn from your first job?  haven’t had a job yet

55. favorite fairy tale?  any of the old Grimm’s fairy tales  they terrified me when i was young, but then i got a taste for the disturbed and gore so they became perfect for me 

56. favorite tradition?  my family doesn’t really have any traditions

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?  gaining confidence to not be a complete pushover, quitting self-harm, realizing my first relationship wasn’t my fault

58. four talents you’re proud of having? i don’t  have four talents  i can color really well? i can copy drawings if i look at them long enough

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?  Fuck

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be? something along the lines of kabaneri of the iron fortress or my hero academia

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?  give me something to keep and hold onto forever. let go

62. seven characters you relate to?  uggggggggh bro my personality changes every hour i don’t know  Sam, from supernatural  uh, Klaus? from the originals  ....  yeah that’s all i got

63. five songs that would play in your club?  dangerous- left boy  adderall- Max Frost  sweet tooth- Scott Helman  binary mind- ra ra riot  while i’m alive- STRFKR

64. favorite website from your childhood?  club penguin and jumpstart

65. any permanent scars?  tons

66. favorite flower(s)?  coral dahlias and bellflowers

67. good luck charms?  nope!

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?  quinoa, mustard, and root beer

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?  without saliva your stomach would digest itself

70. left or right-handed?  right

71. least favorite pattern? whatever the fuck this one is

 72. worst subject?  math

73. favorite weird flavor combo?  ranch and any kind of roast

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?  probably like a 7

75. when did you lose your first tooth?  neither i nor my mother remember

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)? Mashed Potatoes Always

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?  strawberries!! they’re yummy and have beautiful flowers

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store? both are gross no thank you

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?  well since i don’t have my license yet, i’d have to say my license

80. earth tones or jewel tones?  earth tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs? they’re  literally the same thing  are you asking which one i say? if so, lightning bugs

82. pc or console?  both! i prefer pc but a lot of my favorite games are on console and i don’t have a gaming computer

83. writing or drawing?  i’m better at writing, but i love both!

84. podcasts or talk radio?  not a huge fan of either

84. barbie or polly pocket?  i never had or liked either

85. fairy tales or mythology?  faerie* tales and mythology

86. cookies or cupcakes?  cookies!!!

87. your greatest fear?  being abandoned ig

88. your greatest wish?  to live an apple pie life i suppose  my partners and i living in a house we love, in a town we love, with all of our fur babies

89. who would you put before everyone else?  the young if i was in a room full of people, relatives, friends, elders, i would always save the youngest

90. luckiest mistake?  posting my diary on ao3 XD  i met my darling Leo through it

91. boxes or bags?  f....for???   bags are easier to carry, but boxes are just Nice ..... see this is why i think i’m a cat

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?  i love sunlight and fairy lights

93. nicknames?  Q  that’s that’s basically it

94. favorite season?  fall

95. favorite app on your phone?  duolingo or pixel.y 3D

96. desktop background? school computer:

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized? just my mother’s

98. favorite historical era?  anything Ancient  greek, egyptian, incan, aztec, that kinda stuff

[arcanalogue]

ON TYRANNY - An Unsolicited Tarot Tour, pt. II

In my initial post groping for symbolic parallels between the Major Arcana and Timothy Snyder’s ON TYRANNY, we covered The Fool and The Magician. 

In the few days then (just to show how fast time seems to move during a budding oligarchy), video has surfaced of the President speaking to rich donors at one of his own hotels, in which he says: “The European Union is a group of countries that got together to screw the United States, it’s as simple as that.” He goes on to explain why this is surprising: “We’re all sort of from there, right?”

He also tweeted a thinly-veiled threat suggesting that Adam Schiff, the US rep who gave a rousing speech in the impeachment trial the other day, “has not paid the price, yet, for what he has done to our Country!”

There’s also video of his pick for Special Advisor to the White House Faith and Opportunity Initiative, Paula White, working this bit into a sermon: “We command all satanic pregnancies to miscarry right now.” 

And just for fun, a case of the Wuhan coronavirus was detected near Los Angeles, and today officials are reporting that, as feared, the disease is contagious before the appearance of symptoms. There are still plenty of good folks left at the CDC, right? The lights are on, at least?

But if we let paroxysms of fear induced by bad headlines stop us from going about our day, pretty much none of us would have made it through 2017 — and yet here we are, two full years beyond that point, still rallying, still cracking jokes, still helping each other get things back on track. And sure, my beard and chest hair are suddenly growing in all white, but that’s fine! The sharper contrast will be dazzling against all of my goth attire. How’s that for a silver lining? 

Anyway, on to the cards.

The High Priestess represents everything we take for granted about our own awareness. She’s the source of our inspiration, the dream we awaken from that colors our perception of the day; she’s the vapors sighing from a crack in the earth, and she’s also the Pythia who hears and interprets those whispers. 

Most of us realize we’re more than just our cognition, or our memories, but it’s still quite easy to lose track of the various pillars our interior world is formed around... until one of them is suddenly swept away.

And it’s the same with our exterior life, because “interior” and “exterior” are only matters of scale, baby. Your mind is your own (for now), but how did it become what it became? What unseen protections was it afforded? 

Most people probably think of libraries, or organizations, or certain publications when they hear the word “institutions.” But so many different things fall under this category, it’s actually mind-boggling! It really makes you ponder about the particular framework of your community. Some are more fragile or less corporeal than others; to LGBTQ people, a bar can serve as an institution. Hell, in Brooklyn a taco restaurant can be described as a “mainstay” if it manages to last 15 years.

Some institutions are really only useful to those who created them, and others or who are well-adapted to them, and are bound to crumble naturally with time. A lot of what history has thought to provide will be useless to people in the coming century and beyond; their needs are evolving drastically, right in front of our eyes. This is why we also need to create safe and fertile territory for new institutions to be formed, and try not to take it too personally when the world just moves on. Memento mori, and all that.

But this entropy is not what Snyder’s talking about: he says DEFEND institutions, implying they are under attack. And some of this is very easy to watch for, because we think we know what an attack looks like. But as Snyder’s chapter points out:

“Sometimes institutions are deprived of vitality and function, turned into a simulacrum of what they once were, so that they gird the new order, instead of resisting it. This is what the Nazis called Gleichschaltung.”

You know, like appointing industrial tycoons to manage the EPA and the Department of Education, or leaving countless government positions unfilled so that none of the departments can function quite as they used to.

No one can look after all of them, and none of us knows which we’ll depend on most in a key moment. That means we all have to fan out and each claim a different piece of the puzzle. But which one? And how?

Reflect on the mental architecture that contributed to the formation of your own mind, and then let the Priestess guide you. 

The tarot-ticklers of antiquity may have determined that The Emperor’s power trumps that of The Empress (as the cards are ordered so that each one “triumphs” over the one that preceded it), but he can’t exist without her, and everyone in the kingdom knows it. 

In this chapter Snyder invokes the popular saying “Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty,” adding:

“When we think of this saying today, we imagine our own righteous vigilance directed outward, against misguided and hostile others... But the sense of the saying was entirely different: that human nature is such that American democracy must be defended from Americans who would exploit its freedoms to bring about its end.”

In readings I often explain to people that The Emperor represents the outward-looking ruler, the conqueror, the prospector, the warlord. The Empress is the inward looking ruler, tending to the needs of the people, governing, presiding over everything that gives life meaning. 

I mentioned above that the very concept of interior/exterior is only a matter of scale. Those terms are used very flexibly, aren’t they? There’s the interior of my body, and the interior of my home, and the interior of my apartment complex, and so on. At some point it stops being “my” anything. Suddenly we’re looking beyond my town, or my state, or my country. Sometimes others draw those lines for us, and other times we have to be The Emperor, pushing back against that line, drawing one of our own, defending what’s rightfully ours. 

Regarding our own interior as a nation: in case you hadn’t heard (HAHA!) we’re about to stagger through a series of important elections. The one thing we know for sure is that the results of these elections will be disputed, no matter what they happen to be. If we can no longer trust the outcome of an election — due to internal fiddling, not just foreign — then what’s the point of having them at all? You can already sense everyone’s fatigue, ripe to be exploited.

The GOP is already slavering for it, canceling primaries left and right so that Trump will run unopposed for reelection. A “one-party” election suits them just fine. Debates only raise questions, and give a platform to challengers. In order for Trump 2020 to seem like an inevitable choice, he has to be the only choice.

Ruining the public’s faith in American democracy is part of the strategy, because of course it is. Later in Chapter III, Snyder offers yet another popular saying: “Where annual elections end, tyranny begins.” 

The work required to protect the upcoming election, and make sure people still care about the outcome, can only be done by Americans organizing and working together on every level: personal, local, national. The fatalism and cynicism everyone’s feeling is understandable, but it ought to drive one toward active participation in preserving what little democracy we have left. 

Otherwise, what’s the point? If it’s more important to have your worst fears confirmed, to be able to say “I told you so,” to bargain with the inevitability of fascism, then you’re rooting against The Empress and the rest of us. You’re part of the rot in your own kingdom.

If you’re someone who does Empress-related work, this is your new practice: she is calling you to serve as guardian and minister of the interior. Whatever inspiration you manage to muster, your role is to imbue others with it, and resist whatever negativity you may encounter as you do so.

Are your friends and family registered to vote? Are they sure? Do your representatives in Congress have a plan in place for when Trump refuses to concede? What communities near you could use a leg up in terms of outreach? Ask questions. Get creative. Be a constructive part of the pressure. 

What you manage to accomplish on your own may seem meager, but pouring energy into these concerns will remind others why this fight still matters, and it will encourage those who never forgot. We need everyone in this fight.

Our last “real” election can’t already be behind us. The Empress is counting on us to make sure of it. 

This is Part II in a series of posts about Timothy Snyder’s ON TYRANNY, which can be purchased via your local bookstore, and also here. 

[huntertales]

Part One: It’s Bad Writing, But the Kids Love it. (Live Free or Twihard S06E05)

Episode Summary: Sam, Dean and the reader investigate a rash of disappearances involving teenage girls, which they soon discover the girls are being lured by a nest of vampires. During the hunt, Dean is turned into a vampire and is faced with deathly consequences if he can’t resist his temptation to feed his thirst for human blood. In his final hours, fiction becomes reality when Dean and the reader share a moment that feels straight of a vampire paperback. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,842.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

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There was nothing like a bunch of missing teenage girls to keep you and the Winchester brothers busy. It'd been a bit of a slow spell for all things evil and wicked since wrapping up your last hunt. It started off with three officers dropping dead of mysterious causes, only to uncover an angel, Balthazar, was selling parts of his Father's toys to minors so a child could seek vengeance on his brother. It was also the last time you saw Cas in almost over a year. He left without saying goodbye. And you were just fine with that. If he wanted to spend time with his siblings and fight like a bunch of brats, so be it. You had a world full of monsters that needed to be hunted down and a half dozen missing girls to be found before the worst could happen.

You walked with Sam down the quiet town street with all the missing people flyers you had gotten from the local police station. You looked up away from the smiling face of the most recent teenager to see the Impala come into view and Dean sitting on the hood, finishing his call that he said was important. If you had to take a wild guess, from the smile on his face, he was probably talking to Lisa. Normally the mention of the woman's name would make an ache slowly start to sit in your chest. But, after some time, you were starting to feel happy for Dean. He was getting everything he wanted. From the normal life to a supportive girlfriend, along with Ben, who he had viewed like a son. It was everything you could never give him. 

If anything good came out of Dean going to Lisa, you gotten your best friend back. You got to ride in Baby again with the older Winchester behind the wheel and his brother sitting in the passenger's seat, you hogging up all of the backseat as your own. That's what you'd been missing for the past year since coming back from the cage. Your real family and the Impala. What else did you need to be happy? Right now it was to hit the road and hunt some monsters. You shuffled all the papers together in a neat pile and approached Dean, a smile on your own stretched across your lips when he noticed that you and his brother were back. He quickly ended the call and shut the phone, you raised your brow in curiously to see what he was trying what was making his calm demeanor break from the smile that wanted to light up his face. "What are you so stoked about?" You teased the older Winchester as you gave him a wink from what you proposed. Dean pretended to be confused, mumbling something about how it was nothing. "You look like an unsupervised kid in a candy store. Got a hot date with Lisa? If so, Sam and I can take this. We'll meet up afterwards." "No, no. We got a case. I wanna work." Dean answered you a little too quickly, making you let out a chuckle. "What do you got?" You handed over the pile of flyers to Dean's awaiting hands so he could skim through the missing faces that all had the exact type of looks. Pretty, petite and young. "Six girls in seven days," You explained the pattern that caught your attention as he examined everything with a close eye. "Which is more disappearances than this city has seen in over a year—all about the same age." "And cute." Dean added. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, knowing he was going to say something like that. "Hey, ice cream comes in lots of flavors, sweetheart." "Yeah. And you've had about every single one on this planet. We've got half dozen girls who look almost exactly the same, late teens. Sounds like we got a pattern going here." You suspected. "Sam and I couldn't find anything they have in common. But I'm sure there is." "Well, six directions to go." Dean said, going through the papers to find all of the girls had been picked in different spots. "Hey, Sammy. Pick a number between one and six." "How about number seven." Sam suggested. "Another call came in today." Lucky number seven, you thought to yourself. You and the boys decided to start with the most recent missing girl to see if you could figure who was causing all these suspicious disappearances. And put a stop to it before someone else became a victim. + + + You and the boys made it into town a few hours later and decided to first stop at the house of Kristen, the most recent girl to have vanished. Her father was the one who greeted and welcomed the three of you inside after flashing your fake badges and saying you were FBI. You could see his daughter's disappearance was taking a personal toll on him from the lack of answers or leads the police could give him. She wasn't the type to runaway. A good girl who just vanished into thin air, no explanation to ease her father's anxiety-ridden mind. "Kristen's a good kid. A little naive, sure..." He trailed off for a second when he tried painting a picture of his daughter for the three of you to understand. You gave him a warm smile when you noticed his gaze went to your direction. "You try to be a good parent. Girls are hard." "That, they are." You agreed as you let out a quiet chuckle, showing him a bit of empathy for being a single dad. "We want to find your daughter much as you do. And in order to do that, would you mind if we took a look around her room? Just to get to know her a bit better. See if there's something the police might not have thought of to look at." Kristen's father fell silent for a moment. He looked over his shoulder and to the staircase that laid behind him. He let out a quiet sigh and turned his gaze back to the three of you to answer your request. "Last door on the left." You gave him another smile as you mumbled a thank you underneath your breath before you passed by him, following behind the brothers when they began making their way to the staircase after being granted permission. You made it halfway up before the three of you stopped, a little bit baffled at what Kristen's father had said. "What do you think he was talking about?" Dean wondered, you shrugged your shoulders. Kids were different with every generation that came by. Who knows what they did to get in trouble these days. "Drugs?" Sam guessed. All of you exchanged a glance before heading up to the top of the staircase and down the hall to the last door on the left, like Kristen's father said. Dean opened up the door and flicked on the light, half expecting to be blinded by shades of pink and all sorts of frilly things that teenage girls liked. But he stumbled upon a bedroom decor that made him feel taken aback. And even a little bit offended.   You let out a whistle when you stumbled upon the holy grail of everything goth and supernatural a girl Kristian’s age would have. The walls were painted a blood red and covered in posters—not of the latest bands and Hollywood heartthrobs—but the cast of those God awful vampire and werewolves movies you kept seeing everywhere. The entire place was covered in gothic and what might appear in a creature of the night’s bedroom. You looked over to the bed to see there was the same black and crimson red color scheme. Along with a few throw pillows that were of the character’s faces. You expected to see a copy of Dracula or Anner Rice around, but there was nothing but the modern telling of vampires that sparkled in the sun and was a complete dick to the female protagonist you were supposed to root for. It was complete and utter trash. But you’d be lying if you said you had picked up a copy out of pure curiosity.

Your eyes wandered to a poster across the room that was pinned in place. A young woman was standing between two men, who looked like they were attempting to appear frightened, stood between two men that were attempting to be broody and mysterious. To you, they looked like a bunch of actors failing miserably at their job to portray a certain emotion. But they must have been raking in millions by targeting a demographic that was the most dedicated of all them all, teenage girls. And it seemed It seemed Kristen was a mighty big fan of "My Summer Blood." You looked away from the poster and to Dean, who looked horrified at what he was surrounded with and couldn’t look away. “Oh, it is so much worse.” The older Winchester muttered, knowing he’d stumbled upon something that made him uncomfortable. Sam let out a scoff, taking a guess that Kristen wasn’t addicted to drugs, but vampires. “No, these aren’t vampires, man. These…” You shut the door behind you to give the three of you some privacy. Only you were greeted by the sight of a cardboard cutout of a pretty boy vampire. “These are douchebags.”

Lately the biggest trends among the younger crowd was supernatural monsters. But they weren't depicted in ways you remembered growing up where vampires were bloodsucking monsters and werewolves would rip your heart out. Nowadays they were being written as the love interest for pale, awkward girls and werewolves were your best friend that was secretly in love with you. You rolled your eyes from how very real and dangerous these creatures were. It's crappy writing, but the kids loved it. And the author was sure ranking in the money.

Sam looked around the room to find out where Kristen’s laptop would be hiding. He took a wild guess and headed for the unmade bed, throwing around her sheets to discover it was exactly where he suspected. You looked over your shoulder to see the girl’s laptop was red, big shocker, with stickers of bats and anything spooky. Sam headed for the desk and decided to see what he could discover about your missing girl. He hit the power on button, expecting to see the lock screen. The three of you were taken back from the female screams that came out of nowhere when Sam pulled up the home screen. Kristen’s background was of a vampire trying to make an intense face. You found yourself rolling your eyes in annoyance.

“That’s just,” Sam flinched at the face staring back at him. "Uncomfortable."

“What’s he so bummed about?” Dean muttered.

Sam decided to get started sneaking around the laptop and decided to go for the internet. Right away he found himself locked out, the computer demanded a password. What would a teenage girl use as her password? You crossed your arms over your chest and tried to think of a few possible theories. Dean averted his gaze away from the screen when he noticed a paperback sitting at the edge of the desk. He took a quick glance without much thought, but when he saw “My Summer Blood”, he immediately picked up the copy to take a look at it for himself. The man scoffed at seeing a teenage girl sleeping peacefully in bed, not realizing there was a boy lurking in the corner of her bedroom, watching her in her most vulnerable state.

"Look at this." Dean picked up the book off the bed and showed you, making you break your concentration away from the screen to see what was getting him so riled up. You looked up and saw his expression, causing you to let out a quiet laugh from how he was taking all of this in.  "He's watching her sleep. How is that not rapey?”

“I gotta concentrate, guys.” Sam said, hoping the both of you would stay quiet. Sam decided to see if Kristen was into the classic as he typed in Dracula. The computer rejected the try and let out a scream, making him think of another password.

“You can't believe there's a copy of 'Dracula' or '‘Salem's Lot' just lying around." You said, trying to be a little bit helpful to the younger Winchester. Sam looked up at you and gave you a look to keep quiet. "What? Try something a teenage girl would use."

Dean decided to see what this was all about by cracking open the book where Kristen had marked it, she made it halfway through before stopping. He skimmed the pages before he stumbled upon the scene the girl had stopped at. He scoffed at what kind of garbage he was reading. "'He could hear the blood rushing inside her, almost tasting it. He tried desperately to control himself. Romero knew their love was impossible.' Romero? Really?”

“Dean,” Sam looked over his shoulder from the lack of silence he was getting. “Shut up.”

"Come on, it's not that bad." You defended the author as you plucked the book out of Dean’s grip to skim the pages yourself before flipping through a few pages. "It's a national bestseller for a reason."

“Oh, God. Don’t tell me you read it.” Dean said. You shrugged your shoulders and held onto the book for safekeeping, curiosity making you steal the copy to read it in your freetime. "And here I thought you looked down at this kind of garbage.”

"Oh, please. I'll read anything I can get my hands on. I may have read a few pages while I was killing some time in a bookstore. Wanted to see what all the hype was about." You said. "Oh, Sammy. Try 'Lautner.' That may work."

Sam took your advice and typed in the password. Before he hit enter, he wondered how you had come up with the name off the top of your head. “Wait, he’s a werewolf.” Sam said. “How do you even know who that is?”

“Are you kidding me? That kid’s everywhere. It’s a freaking nightmare. And it’s gotta be him. Or the other one.” You mumbled. You looked over to see that Dean grabbed one of the pillows from the bed and grimaced at the sight of the familiar broody vampire staring back at him. A scream came from the laptop when it rejected your suggestion. “Try. Pattinson. That’s got to be it.”

Sam took your final suggestion and put it into the computer, expecting the laptop to give him that obnoxious scream again. Instead his hands jumped from the keyboard as a smile grew on the ends of his lips when he was finally granted access.

“That’s it. We’re in. Ha.” Sam clicked a few different links around what appeared to be a social media website and pulled up her inbox to see she had been active with a boy named Robert. You and Dean headed over to see what he found. “Well, her inbox is full from some guy claiming to be a vampire.”

“A real vampire?” You asked, all thought you doubt it was nothing more than a peophile trying to get creative in lurking out his victims.

“Well, ‘I can only meet you at night. I don’t trust myself with you. The call of your blood is too strong.’” Sam read off a few of the messages the boy had left for Kristen. You let out a scoff from how terrible it sounded, like it came straight out of the book. “Vampire fishing for victims?”

“Probably just a human mouth-breather, right?” Dean presumed.

“On the other hand—talk about easy prey.” Sam said, finding himself becoming a bit cynical when he began thinking about the platform monsters had nowadays to lurk out their victims. And there was a special group of impressionable teens that thought having someone suck their blood was what romance was all about. “I mean, these chicks are just throwing themselves at you. All you gotta do is...I dunno. Write bad poetry.”

"And they say chivalry is dead." You mumbled. You let out a quiet sigh from how an innocent girl might have put herself in trouble because she was so obsessed with a piece of literature and its fictional world, she couldn’t differentiate between reality and fiction. Sam pulled up one of the most recent messages and skimmed it, seeming to have discovered your next possible lead.

“Wow. This guy wanted to meet her at a place called The Black Rose.” Sam said. Dean rolled his eyes from how stupid the club had sounded. “Just reporting the news.”

“It’s probably just your standard-issue perv, right?” Dean wondered, all clues seeming to have pointed in that direction. You shrugged your shoulders as Sam shut the laptop. Whoever was in charge of kidnapping these girls, you knew for sure they were going to end up with their head chopped right off. It’d be one less monster on the street you had to deal with.

+ + +

It seemed you standard pervert might not have been the reason for all the missing girls. The next night during your second stay in town a van carrying blood donations was jumped. As if that wasn’t suspicious enough, the driver was attacked, his throat ripped out and drained of all his blood. If these vampires were luring out females, why did they need extra blood? You and the boys waited until late at night to scope out the Black Rose to see if you could find a vampire trying to lurk out its next prey. Most vampires acted like normal people, but this bar scene was one you weren't quite used to. Everyone in here was dressed in black and leather. You missed the dress code on this one, for sure.

“Well, you wanted emo chicks. I think we hit ground zero.” Dean said. The ambiance sure was the perfect spot for an underage girl to find her broody vampire that couldn’t control himself around her. You tapped your fingers against the bartop and waited patiently for the drinks you ordered a few minutes ago to arrive. The sounds of squeaky leather made you look up to see the waitress, who was wearing a little black dress, made entirely out of glossy leather, put down your drinks and ignored Dean when he said thank you to tend to her other customers. “Hey, Y/N. You think she wears all that rubber to the beach?”

"Oh God," You let out a quiet laugh from the thought as you brought the beer bottle to your lips to take a drink. "Imagine trying to get the sand out of that dress. And the tan lines.”

Dean looked down at his own drink for a moment before realizing how long it’d been since the three of you had done something like this. Sitting back, even if you were on a hunt, enjoying something so simple as a drink. “When was the last time we had a beer together, anyway?”

“There.” Sam changed the conversation when he found the couple that he’d been staring at start to act a little suspicious. You looked across the bar to see a young, brunette girl who looked quite similar to the rest talking to a boy who was getting awfully closer to her. You narrowed your eyes ever so slightly, watching the both of them ever so closely. “What do you think? He’s hitting on her hard enough. Real?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.” Dean admitted. His gaze was distracted when he saw yet another girl just a few feet from the couple. The other girl was laughing and talking to two men, making you wonder who was the predator here. “And we got multiple choices.”

“Okay. We take one. Shouldn’t be too hard.” You said, shrugging your shoulders. But you could soon cross one off the list when the boy talking to the girl turned away when another boy approached the bar and lightly tapped him on the shoulder to grab his attention. Your brow raised in a bit of surprise to see both of the men share a kiss, making you realize he sure wasn't the one you were looking for.  “Make that two of them. Better for us, anyway.”  

Sam looked to the first couple when he noticed the boy was making his move on the girl. He gave her a sly smirk and grabbed her hand, pulling her to the back. “One’s on the move.”

“All right. You and Y/N go with Efron.” Dean said, noticing the other guy you’d been observing was starting to make his way for the other side of the bar. “I got Bieber.”

You warned the Older Winchester to be safe as you slipped off the stool, parting ways with him as you followed behind the guy when you noticed he was going to the lower level of the bar. You looked over your shoulder in the crowd of people expecting Sam to be not that far behind, but you were alone. You looked back in front of you and quickly caught the guy making a turn to a room that wasn't the bathroom. You kept on trailing him until you found yourself in a more secluded part of the bar. Swallowing slightly, you pressed a hand against your jacket, feeling the machete close to you. Just in case things went south side. Inhaling a deep breath, you quietly pushed open the door and stepped inside, wondering if there was someone hiding around here. You noticed right away of the hanging light and how it was rocking back and forth, like someone turned it on and run for cover. Just the feeling of this place made you feel off. But you weren’t going to let some goth vampire scare you. Without any sort of backup, you stepped into the room, wondering if you could find the guy hiding anywhere. You didn’t hear the door slowly shut behind you as a dark shadow loomed in the corner, watching as you tried looking for him.

The vampire retracted his set of fangs as he started to approached closer to you, getting ready to take you by surprise. You felt someone’s fingers touch your shoulder, and before you could read for your weapon, he managed to catch you by surprise and push your backside to the metal shelves. You winced in slight pain, but before the vampire could make you his next victim, your hand slipped in your jacket in a final attempt to grab your machete. Someone beat you to it before you could save yourself. Suddenly you felt a splatter of blood cover your face and your upper body, catching you off guard.

Slowly, you opened your eyes to see that Sam was standing in front of you, the vampire’s dead body lying at your feet and his machete just a few inches from your face. If you had been any closer, if his aim had been off, you would have been his next victim.

"What the hell, Sam?" You hissed at him, quickly wiping away the blood off your face as he pulled his weapon away. You expected some sort of apology from him from the close call, or even vanishing, but he stood there with a calm look on his face. You could feel an uneasy feeling settled in you from the way he was acting. "Where'd you go?"

“I was around.” Sam said, shrugging his shoulders. You didn’t feel any better from his answer, and he could tell from how you furrowed your brow at him. “I’m here. Aren’t I?”

Yeah. Right when the vampire was getting ready to kill you. When he was so focused on you, he would have never suspected Sam to come out of nowhere. It was almost like Sam was using you as bait, luring the victim until he got exactly where he wanted and went in for the kill. Sam wouldn’t have done something like that to put you in danger. But lately, the old Sam was gone. You should have gotten used to his almost hollow personality. Yet, it only made you feel more on edge around him whenever you were hunting with him.

You looked down at your clothes to see that you were covered in the vampire’s blood from your head to your waist. You let out a frustrated sigh, knowing well enough you couldn’t walk out the front door without causing a few awkward stares. And you were surrounded by people who wore skin tight leather for an outfit and had piercings in all the wrong places. They knew something would be up once they caught sight of the blood splatter.

“Ugh, this is disgusting.” You muttered underneath your breath. Suddenly you were thankful that the motel the boys were staying at was all booked up, except for a double they shared. There was no way you were sharing a bed or crashing in the Impala. You had found another across town, just a few minutes from the bar. There was enough alleys to keep yourself hidden and make it back without causing suspicion. “Find Dean. See if he’s okay. I’m gonna head back to my room to take a shower.”

“Sure you don’t want some help with that?” Sam’s question made you stop dead in your tracks. You looked over your shoulder to give him a glare from the remark that was now paired with a smirk, knowing you set yourself up for that one. You weren’t the least bit amused from his sly comment. He didn’t seem bothered by your looks. “Make sure you don’t get caught.”

You mocked his warning as you waved your arm at him, throwing his concern as nothing more than sarcasm for him to have the last word. Sam watched as you headed out the back door and disappeared from sight. He knew if one vampire was around, another had to be here for sure.

The younger Winchester tucked the machete away for safekeeping and headed back upstairs to the bar area to see if his brother around. But all he saw was a sea of freaks. He decided to head to the back alley where Dean had saw the couple going. Sam found his way to the quiet alley and began observing the sight, making sure there weren’t any monsters that would take him by surprise. As he pulled out his machete, Sam stumbled upon a sight that would have made him panic any other day. When he had the ability to feel emotions.

Sam found himself stopping dead in his tracks and loosed his grip around the machete when he spotted his big brother pinned against a dumpster. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t try to stop it. Sam watched as the vampire holding his brother by the throat bite into his wrist to break the skin and get some blood. To change his brother into something they killed. Dean was rendered helpless. It was like watching someone taking a magnifying glass and putting it over an ant hill a sunny afternoon. Sam was fascinated at seeing his brother in such a fragile state. He had the power to save the man, but he chose not to.

Sam continued on watching. The vampire smeared the blood over Dean’s lips, just enough for the man to involuntary swallow ingest the slightest amount to turn him. Sam could feel his mouth twitch into just a little smirk. When he knew for sure his brother had got some of the blood in him, that’s when he took action.

He knew he could have easily taken down the vampire with a few simple swings, but Sam had a feeling the monster would come in handy later on. Sam had spent an entire year perfecting his mask of emotion. He charged forward and caught the vampire's attention, making Dean fall to the ground, leaving the two of them to fight. Sam made a few slashes with the machete, but the vampire easily blocked them, making him believe that the younger Winchester was a hunter with little skill. The vampire backed away, laughing to himself at his victory as he sarcastically waved before making his great escape by running away and climbing up the wall, disappearing from sight. .

Sam turned his gaze away from the top of the building and to his brother, who was lying on the ground. Blood was smeared all over his mouth as he panted, the beating he took earlier took a toll on him. And it’d only be a matter of time until he would start turning. Sam tried his hardest to look shocked and concerned at what happened to his brother. All while knowing he could have done something to stop it, but didn’t. And he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for what he’d done.

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