#i want to know as much as possible about all the different disciplines and creatures why did valkyrie have to be taken under the wing

[lostandbackagain]

adept magic in skulduggery pleasant is so much fun like the concept of overpowered magic disciplines having extreme weaknesses is very cool when the weakness is a fundamental opposite (fire guy melting in water) and very funny when it's a fuck-you weakness (necromancers being Extremely Vulnerable to pickpocketing)

[neerons]

Some of Sariel Noir's best quotes

"Know that this devil will stake his life on your pure heart, your wise gaze, and your fierce resolve."

"There is something I wish to protect, even if it means selling my soul to the true devil himself, and burning for all eternity in the fires of hell."

"Do you realize who you resemble, when you act in that manner?" (—Sariel to Emma acting like him)

"Rio, what in the world makes you think she could be in a flower vase? Calm yourself." (—Sariel talking about Emma to Rio while they're looking for her)

"There is no harm in sucking up to me."

"You have always been courageous, determined to put your emotions aside and process things logically whenever possible. And I certainly consider it a desirable trait to possess. But too much has happened this evening, and I imagine you're well past the limit of what you can tolerate. I do not mind if you need to prioritize how you are feeling right now."

"If you ever refer to me like that again, I must warn you that you may not see the next sunrise." (—Sariel to Gilbert calling him 'Daddy')

"At last I've found you. (...) I imagine a little discipline will go a long way with you... hehe..."

"It would seem you have a lot of confidence in your ability to remember things. (...) ...I am simply wondering whether you ought not be taking notes. While it's true books can be reread, much of the information I am sharing with you is not written down anywhere. As such, you may find it useful to write things down so that you may review them later."

"So long as the kingdom and its people exist, our noble beasts will give everything they have to protect it. As you know, they have very different ideologies, and they are a problematic lot, but... on this one matter alone, almost all of them can be trusted." (—Sariel talking about the Rhodolitian princes to Emma)

"It's a basic right. Everyone needs time to rest and relax, no matter who they are."

"I'm fond of those who are wise—regardless of gender."

"I'm talking about the creature that says 'squeak squeak' and begins with the letter R. I cannot even put that filthy word in my mouth." (—Sariel talking about rats)

"(...) Prince Gilbert, rude though it may be of me to ask, perhaps you would be kind enough to vanish for the time being?"

"There probably aren't many ladies that would be able to approach Prince Gilbert." (—Sariel talking in front of Emma, Keith, Silvio, Rio and Gilbert)

"...Now, now. I am a man, you are a woman, and we're all alone in your bedroom at night. How might you want this scenario to end?"

"To say that I'm relieved to have you beside me is an understatement." (—Sariel's lobby dialogue)

"(...) I did feel some murderous intent in the cane, however." (—Sariel to Gilbert pointing his cane at him)

"Dear Prince Clavis, (...) Apparently you made a child bawl in the middle of town? Please act your age. (...) There have been complaints that people who got wet because of you were close to catching colds because of it. It's winter. Please do not be using water or ice. This is not an invitation to make traps using fire. *NO MICE. The next time I see any, I will put them in a bag along with you and send it down the river. I have warned you." (—Sariel's letter to Clavis)

"...Prostate himself? (...) ...Ahh, I see. Wonderful, I shall have to make the hellcat do it the next time I get the chance." (—Sariel talking about Clavis to Rio)

"You damned hellcat—" (—Sariel to Clavis)

"I do not know what choice you will make going forward, but... For as long as you are able, do not let each other go. Especially because you love each other. It makes no difference whether you are a prince or a commoner. A person needs someone to love in order to remain human. I learned this after witnessing what happened to His Majesty." (—Sariel to Rio)

"What on earth are you doing curled up so disgracefully on the floor like that, Dog?" (—Sariel to Rio)

"(...) At that time, Clavis was the most innocent and childlike of the princes. I had to admit that I was easily swayed by his sweet grin. He took a keen interest in anything and everything, and he had a strong drive. Clavis was the student—well, disciple—I shared most of my knowledge with." (—Sariel's thoughts about young Clavis)

"Which do you like better, spending time with me like this, or spending time reading a book?"

"You are right, it would be tactless of me to speak ill of you when you are present. I shall wait until you are absent, and then I will be free to speak as much ill of you as I wish." (—Sariel to Clavis)

"(...) I'm the one who taught Prince Nokto and Prince Licht how to use their swords."

"I wonder how many times he and I have shared a drink now. I remembered the times where instead of amber-colored wine, there was water or milk in the cups in front of us. We had been partaking in these laidback meetings ever since we were both young. They were an absolute necessity for us." (—Sariel's thoughts about Jin)

"(...) You misunderstand me. I don't hate the man, I despise him." (—Sariel talking about Clavis to Emma)

"Now, now. Don't be so sullen. Another fundamental aspect of training someone is to make them want something but never completely satisfy them."

"I also despise hellcats, miscreants, oh, and the Third Prince." (—Sariel talking about Clavis)

"If you do, I'm not nursing you back to health." (—Sariel to Rio telling him he might faint because of how beautiful Emma is)

"(...) Since Emma isn't available to praise you, shall I do the honors instead?" (—Sariel to Rio)

"Hehe, I'm never going to let you run away from this palace of beasts. Will you continue to allow them, and myself, to enjoy your company to the fullest?"

"My hobby is teasing those who are worth teasing, such as yourself. Think of it as an honor that you met my expectations." (—Sariel's lobby dialogue)

"In that instance, I was considering binding Emma's arms behind her back and dumping her in the river. Hehe, naturally, I am joking. I have absolute confidence in my judge of character." (—Sariel talking about Emma potentially failing his test to Rio and Emma)

"I have one more order for you, if that's all right. (...) I'd like you to have a drink with me like this every now and then."

"(...) if it is to be a competition, perhaps I shall take part as well." (—Sariel reacting to Luke saying he would steal Emma away)

"The princes were all very excited when they discovered that today is your birthday. Happy birthday." (—Sariel's lobby dialogue)

"You allowed yourself to get so close to her that rumors began circulating that she was your mistress. Did you keep Belle at your side even knowing it would have no benefit for you?" (—Sariel to Chevalier)

"Prince Chevalier's faction are perhaps a little too free-willed, and at times the ache in my—"

"Consider it one of the perks of being Belle. You are permitted to keep a pet at the palace. (...) This is your pet, is it not? When I entered the bookstore, it started barking non-stop, so I had no choice but to bring it with me." (—Sariel talking about Rio to Emma)

"Hmm? Is something the matter? I can't imagine why you're blushing. Careful now, or you really will get eaten."

"Don't worry. It doesn't matter what kind of noise you make. If anyone overhears and finds fault with you, this devil of a man will take care of it. So please, won't you allow me to hear every last sweet sound?"

[fukuokadivision1]

Ming's Thoughts on Obihiro Division

Hisoka Tetsumasu

"Hisoka-san's past is certainly troubling, what with the illegal HypMics and all. It's hard to overlook that, especially when you consider the trouble it's caused, not only here in Fukuoka, but in Japan, as a whole. Still, I can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. It's clear he's been through a lot, and like many of us, he's made choices he probably regrets. I don't condone what he's done, but I understand that sometimes life pushes you into dark corners."

"As for his work as a horse breeder, that's something I can't help but admire. Horses are such noble creatures, and they deserve care and respect. It's a noble profession, and it speaks to a gentler side of Hisoka-san that perhaps not many get to see. I remember the horses my brother and I had to leave behind after we left home; they were more than just animals to us—they were friends, at least to me."

"I'd like to speak with Hisoka-san about possibly arranging a visit to his ranch for the children. It would be a wonderful experience for them, and a chance for Hisoka-san to share the beauty of his work. After all, it's important for the kids to see that there's more to life than the streets of Fukuoka, that there's beauty and kindness too."

Daiki Kamiyama

"Daiki-kun's heart is in the right place, wanting to be a superhero and all. It's a noble aspiration, but the streets of Fukuoka, much less, Japan, are no place for games. It's dangerous, and I worry he might get hurt—or worse. He reminds me of the children I teach; full of imagination and dreams. But there comes a time when you have to put away childish things and face reality. I hope Daiki-kun realizes this before it's too late."

"As for his comments about me, it's clear he doesn't understand the bond between my brother and I. The assumptions he's made are hurtful, but I won’t hold it against him. He doesn't know our story, the sacrifices we've made for each other. It's easy to judge when you don't know the truth. I'd like to invite Daiki-kun to spend a day with us, to see the love and care that exists within MIHANASA. Perhaps then he'll see that we’re more than just our appearances or our pasts."

Jack Verrill

"Jack-san seems like a man of dedication and discipline. It's not easy to be responsible for someone else's well-being, especially when that someone is as spirited as Daiki-kun. I can't say whether he should be watching over Daiki-kun more closely; after all, every person must walk their own path and learn from it. But I do believe that Jack-san has Daiki-kun's best interests at heart, even if his methods are a bit unorthodox."

Veiled Vanguard

"This team is quite the ensemble. Hisoka-san, with his complex past and love for horses, brings a certain depth to the group. Daiki-kun, the young man with dreams of heroism, adds a touch of innocence and idealism. And Jack-san, the butler, seems to be the anchor, with his experience and perhaps, secrets that keep the team grounded."

"It's a diverse mix, and diversity can be a team's greatest strength if channeled correctly. They each bring something unique to the table, and if they can harmonize their differences, they could create something truly special. I do hope they find a way to work together effectively, for their sake and for the sake of the competition."

[topazadine]

One fear:

Haniya Aina.

Portrait by Haeart

Terrible woman. Bad woman. Sexy woman. (Come on, at least one of your characters needs to be your personal Dream Girl ok?)

Haniya Aina is the princess of Sina, heir to the throne. She's the first child of Queen Susuma and also the most troublesome. Yes, even more so than her younger brother, an illegitimate son and murderer.

Why? Because Sina is rabidly homophobic and, quite frankly, she can't pretend to like a man to save her damn life.

She can, however, fall in love with the unwilling representative of Breme, her country's mortal enemy: Cerie Korviridi.

Of course, she does this in the most annoying way possible.

Haniya's primary motivator is curiosity, which I'd say is a good trait in a ruler. She wants to know everything about anything she can get her hands on: stories of other countries, gossip, random disciplines she'll never have the chance to practice because they're too unladylike. A total bookworm, which leads to some interesting moments between her and Cerie:

("Pearl divers" is the derogatory term for lesbians used in Sina, which I personally think is a hilarious euphemism.)

Does Haniya actually want to be a princess?

Hell no. Of course, she loves the money and status and pretty things that come with it, but the responsibilities, the loneliness, the expectations about her behavior and life ... awful.

Haniya wants to be someone different, someone more alive. Let's see how she explains it in her own words:

Being a royal has to be one of the most thankless yet glamorized positions ever. There's so little freedom, yet all the freedom in the world; so many rewards that aren't very rewarding. While the money, status, and power can be intoxicating to many, and it's great to always have one's creature comforts taken care of, there's a certain death of the spirit required to rule. Her every movement is watched and judged for propriety, and she has to fulfill so many boring obligations. She must be a position, not a person.

There's also the fact that while many gay and lesbian Sinans may be able to hide their sexuality or get away with their relationships, she can't. As a princess, she's expected to marry a (male) royal from another country, or at least a high status individual - love optional. She's delayed it for as long as possible, but her mother, Queen Susuma, isn't getting any younger, and the pressure is mounting for sure.

Being Haniya, she finds a way to solve this little problem in the most catastrophic way possible. Just because.

Personality-wise, Haniya is headstrong, sassy, a bit petulant, but very loyal once she gets to know someone. She's far more open-minded than the rest of Sina, who considers the Bremish essentially a stupid horde of barbarians. Most importantly, she's persistent. If she wants something, she'll get it; maybe that's by dint of being spoiled, or maybe it's just her essential nature.

Whatever the reason, she's willing to go to great lengths once she desires something, and she won't let anything stop her. Not royal rule, not terrible extenuating circumstances, not her own fears and insecurities.

What else do we need to know about Haniya?

Top ten Haniya Facts, in no particular order:

1. She loves her black mare, Saelsie, who is also pretty stuck-up. She trained in what we would call dressage, but her favorite thing to do is just ride her horse across fields, something she doesn't get to indulge in much. 2. One of her favorite things is music boxes. She finds them fascinating! All those teensy little gears. Emissaries from other countries often bring them for her as a way to get in her mother's good graces. 3. Haniya's signature perfume is called Sinan Sugar, designed just for her by one of the country's premier perfumers. It has hints of sugar, orchid, and roses. 4. She had a quick fling with a maid on the down-low when she was younger. Her mother found out and dismissed the servant from service, and she never tried for a relationship again. Well, until Cerie showed up. 5. While she is a competent dancer because it's expected of her, her favorite dances are ... provocative to say the least. And she doesn't get to practice them for obvious reasons. 6. Her favorite books are all travel diaries from far-flung places, another thing she demands from anyone who visits her. 7. Haniya has always had a strained relationship with her parents, who are not in the least bit loving or affectionate. Definitely has some mommy issues due to this cold upbringing. She's not very close to her father, who is kind of a spineless coward. 8. Being basically raised by governesses and teachers, Haniya grew very close to them and was devastated when her mother sent them away once she grew older. She's not close to any of her current maids and they don't feature in the stories with her. 9. If Haniya could craft her perfect life, she'd be a traveling merchant who wrote stories of her visits to faraway lands. 10. When she was younger, Haniya used to sneak out of the palace and just wander around the city by herself, looking at all the commonfolk and being a little weird due to her sheltered upbringing. She'd tie her hair up in braids that always came undone; pink is a common enough hair color in Sina, and she figured no one would recognize her. Unfortunately, she was caught by a merchant who noticed her, and that put the kibosh on her excursions.

While Haniya does not feature in 9 Years Yearning or the beginning of the Eirenic Verses series, she plays a significant role in the second half, so keep an eye out for her!

[laz-laz-ace-pilot]

I love the High Republic Jedi

I really need to talk about the Jedi in The High Republic because damn I can’t stop thinking about them and the contrast with the Jedi Order we know during the prequels.

I’ll try to keep this as spoiler-free (and coherent) as possible, but the central three books of Phase One of The High Republic follow the events of three ‘disasters’ that the Jedi try to assist with. It’s also a time when the Republic is expanding into the Outer Rim, and when unity is the calling card of this movement. And the Jedi respond to each of these disasters by working together – I know that sounds pretty basic written like that, but these books cover several perspectives as they come up with plan after plan to help save lives, however they can, pushing the limits of the Force together to achieve their goals.

But the Order isn’t just one monolith of thought; the series explores perspectives that we largely don’t see in the mainstream content around the Prequel Era – from newly-made Council members struggling with Coruscant priorities versus the realities of the Outer Rim, to Padawans who just want to study the galaxy, or who have to learn under new Masters when their previous one dies. New Jedi Knights who are given Padawans they’re not ready for. Jedi who question the close relationship with the Republic. Jedi who struggle with grief but don’t go on a genocidal rampage to deal with it. Jedi who go on soul-searching journeys after using the Dark Side to save lives.

It explores how Jedi interpret the Force through different lenses; some understand it as music, some visualise it as a vast ocean, some like a vast constellation of stars. How these lenses help them explore new abilities, but also how they need to look beyond that to overcome their weaknesses.

Then there are whole areas and disciplines that no longer exist in the Prequel Era – the autonomy of Jedi temples far away from the Core and the Jedi Council, raising Jedi that may never even see Coruscant. Jedi who disagree with the direction of the Council, or the Order, and strike out on their own, but remain Jedi. Wayseekers, who follow the direction of the Force above all else. Mediative retreats that can last whole lifetimes, like the Barash Vow. Shit, Yoda goes on fucking sabbatical!

And then there’s the crazy stuff that a lot of Disney Star Wars could never do. The Jedi to ex-Jedi mercenary mindmeld/ drift compatible moment that allows them to tame two dragons to ride into battle. The ancient creature capable of cutting Force Sensitives off from the Force and husking them. Yoda had a non-binary Padawan who left the Order for a hot boy they met at the circus. Autistic Jedi. Asexual Jedi. SO MANY LESBIANS.

But at the core of it all is teamwork and compassion. Even as threats escalate throughout the story, the Jedi retain their respect for life throughout, and avoid taking it where they can, mourning it when they do. And as more lives are lost and Jedi are traumatised by the events they see, they actually address this trauma and how it might affect a Jedi’s ability to keep to the Code. There are no chosen ones or super powerful Jedi that save the day; everyone pitches in what they can to help the greater effort. And its this that inspires unity within the Republic – selfless compassion for any stranger who needs them, who act together to achieve the impossible.

I don’t know if this even makes any sense but I love the High Republic Jedi so much and I absolutely recommend the series to everyone, but especially to people who only know the Jedi through Obi-Wan and Anakin and Ahsoka because it is so much more than that.

And I just know, in my heart, that if Yoda had announced to them that they had no other choice but to split up and become Generals to battalions of slave soldiers who were going to be slaughtered in their millions under the direction of an increasing corrupt Senate, they would have put him in a retirement home so fast and there wouldn’t have been a Clone War.

Just saying.

[justagirl-andherbooks]

Books Purchased in May 2023

There was a Sunday in May when my husband and I decided to shirk our responsibilities and hit a slew of bookstores across town. I picked up three in total and even though I'm still juggling, reading two very different books right now - which I will make a separate post for - I'm honestly so excited to dive into these!

Summaries are below the cut.

Thank you to @firefly-graphics for these cool dividers!

The Woman Left Behind by Linda Howard

Jina Modell works in Communications for a paramilitary organization and she loves it. When she displays a high aptitude for spatial awareness and action, she's reassigned to work as an on-site drone operator with one of the elite GO-Teams. Far from athletic, she needs to be fit for the field and learn how to run and swim for miles, jump out of a plane, shoot a gun...or else be out of a job.

Team leader Levi Butcher doesn't have much confidence in Jina completing her rigorous training, so no one is more surprised - or proud - when she thrives in her new environment. Even more surprising is that the disciplined leader can't stop thinking about her smart mouth...

Meanwhile, a powerful Congresswoman is setting a trap to ambush the GO-Team. Once the squad is deployed to Syria, Jina remains at the base for remote surveillance, when suddenly the station is attacked with exlposives. Escaping to the desert, Jina must remain undetected by the enemy and make it to her crew before they're exfiltrated from the country.

But Levi never leaves a soldier behind, and he's determined to bring back the brave woman he's fall for - dead or alive.

The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna

As one of the few witches in Britain, Mika Moon knows she has to hide her magic, keep her head down, and stay away from other witches so their powers don't mingle and draw attention. And as an orphan who lost her parents at a young age and was raised by strangers, she's used to being alone and she follows the rules, with one exception: an online account where she posts videos pretending to be a witch. She thinks no one will take it seriously.

But someone does. An unexpected message arrives, begging her to travel to the remote and mysterious Nowhere House to teach three young witches how to control their magic. It breaks all of the rules, but Mika goes anyway, and is immediately tangled up in the lives and secrets of not only her three charges but also an absent archaeologist, a retired actor, two long-suffering caretakers, and...Jamie. The handsome and prickly librarian of Nowhere House would do anything to protect the children, and as far as he's concerned, a stranger like Mika is a threat. An irritatingly appealing threat.

As Mika begins to find her place at Nowhere House, the thought of belonging somewhere feels like a real possibility. But magic isn't the only danger in the world, and when peril comes knocking at their door, Mika will need to decide whether to risk everything to protect a found family she didn't know she was looking for...

Night Broken: A Mercy Thompson Novel by Patricia Briggs

When her mate's ex-wife storms back into their lives, Mercy knows something isn't right. Christy has the furthest thing from good intentions - she wants Adam back, and she's willing to do whatever it takes to get him, including turning the pack against Mercy.

Mercy isn't about to step down without a fight, but there's a more dangerous threat circling. As the bodies start piling up, she must put her personal troubles aside to face a creature with the power to tear her whole world apart.

I've quickly become a fan of the Mercy Thompson novels and I mean, come on, the summaries for Howard and Mandanna's stories are just so intriguing!

I do enjoy my romance woven into action and adventure - clearly. 😉

Happy Reading!

Yvette

[rubychan228]

At some point in time, I want to do a longer post on this, but I'm pretty sure the MIA after Tol-in-Guarhoth wasn't totally intentional. See, I don't think Sauron was in original draft of the Quenta Silmarillion very much, if at all. And I think Tolkien died before fully writing him in. (I think this is true of several other characters as well, incidentally*.)

The main sticking point for me is I can't tell if Thû from "The Lay of Leithian" is an earlier version of Sauron, the way elf!Beren and "Tinúviel" from "The Tale of Tinúviel" are early versions of man!Beren and Lúthien, or if he replaces Thû the way Thû replaced Tevildo.

Even if he is more of a reimagined version of Thû, rather than a new character, Thû was very clearly a much, much less important character than Sauron would eventually be.

And, it's pretty clear that Tolkien's rewrite of the Silm was incomplete at the time of his death.

A consequence of this is that there are gaps in the narrative. I.e. in the (posthumously) published book, he vanishes after "Of Beren and Lúthien" and it's only thrown out in a later book (not the Quenta itself) how he surrendered to and then escaped Eönwë**.

Though, the Fall of Gondolin come after all of this and somewhere, I think "War of the Jewels", mentions that JRRT had a notes indicating that he was considering having Sauron be the one to have captured Maeglin. So, it was his intention to have him still in Morgoth's service after his defeat. He just...died before he could actually write that.

This is also why you see some odd omissions/inconsistencies in his story. Why do we get this long story about Aulë moving Heaven and Earth to stop Ossë (a different Vala's Maia!) from joining Melkor, but Mairon is supposedly the greatest of his own people and yet we here of him doing nothing about Mairon defecting?! Clearly, it's because this was a later idea that Tolkien never got the chance to develop. Thû is, at one point, said to have been a creature created by Melko/Melkor/Morgoth (I forget what name was being used at that point). While Tolkien would eventually change his backstory/replace him with a character with a different backstory, the implications of that new backstory are never developed. (Note also that JRRT's notes about Sauron's real name being Mairon don't make it into the published book.)

Even what we do get in the Silm, about him escaping when the Valar storm Utumno and him taking over when Melkor goes to corrupt the men are just short sentences with no proper development. Things that easily could have originated as notes penciled onto to a draft by JRRT and then written in by Christopher. The only meaningful presence he has is in "Of Beren and Lúthien", where he's just taking over the role of Thû from "The Lay of Leithian".

So I really, really don't think any conclusions can be drawn from his absences from the later chapters.

Beyond that, I can imagine that Melkor's servants were disciplined, possibly quite harshly, if they failed him. But, I don't know that I was class that as "abuse".

That said, between his imprisonment in Mandos, the diminishment of his power, and the psychological effects of the Silmarils, it's not uncommon for Melkor to be headcanoned as progressively loosing his mind. It's not impossible, then, for people that don't think Melkor would ever harm Mairon to also think that, by the end, Morgoth was awful to him. (This could also explain the "in the beginning" caveat to Mairon's adoration of him. He did, and always would, adore Melkor. He was less keen on what was left of him by the end. of the war)

Other than that, I always took the "bonds that Morgoth had laid upon him" as just...being his loyalty, Nothing negative. And I feel like, even if some fans insist on taking it literally, the RoP line was a deception meant to try and ingratiate him to the bitter enemy of his side of the war. I assume he said something similar to Eönwë back in the day and it worked.

***

* It's a known fact that this is true of Galadriel. I suspect it's also true of Celebrimbor/Telperinquar and Gil-Galad.

** Side tangent, why are the forces the Valar send to fight another Vala lead by a Maia? Probably because in the older stories they were led by Fionwe, the son of Manwë who would later be reimagined into Eönwë the Herald of Manwë after the idea of the Valar having children was abandoned. I kinda suspect that, if Tolkien had survived to revise the final chapters, he would have reworked this more.

Sauron 🔥🔥

Haha, oh dear XD I hope an essay is what you were looking for!

I feel like most of my opinions on Sauron are unpopular in varying degrees with one part of the fandom or another lol, but let's go with one that, until very recently, I legit thought was pretty universally accepted as canon-established fact (but is, apparently, unpopular):

Sauron's relationship with Melkor -- regardless of how one prefers to interpret the exact nature of that relationship in the course of their fandom-ing -- is not abusive! :D

There is much about Sauron that we don't know, especially his early days, but one of the very few things Tolkien is explicit on is that Sauron's service to Melkor was due to awe and respect, and was the culmination and product of what remained of his "good" nature as a Maia; and not out of fear.

It was the apparent will and power of Melkor to effect his designs quickly and masterfully that had first attracted Sauron to him. (Morgoth's Ring, p. 396)

Sauron did not seek his own supremacy, but worked and schemed for another, desiring the triumph of Melkor, whom in the beginning he had adored. (Morgoth's Ring, p. 420)

I'm too tired right now to look up every instance across, like, four different books, but the words that keep being repeated with regards to how Sauron views Melkor are admiration, desire, adoration, etc. and linking it to his lingering goodness.

I suppose you can read the "in the beginning he had adored" part as Sauron losing his love for Melkor due to Melkor's treatment of him, but, really, there is absolutely no evidence towards that. Given the passage the line is in and that Tolkien is discussing the motives of his villains, I read it more as Sauron's adoration fading from its initial intensity due to his distance from Melkor after the First Age and due to his increasing focus on himself and the ordering of Middle Earth in the Second Age; and once the one ring comes into play, Sauron's mind is pretty much consumed by that obsession.

On the other hand, the only times I can think of where the opposite is implied are: 1. Luthien threatening him that he'll tremble in scorn before Melkor (Silmarillion, p. 206); and "for the bonds that Morgoth had laid upon him were very strong." (Silmarillion, p. 342). Both of which can be considered to be outside perspectives -- Luthien, obviously, knows nothing about their relationship, and assuming that Melkor's cruelty would be inflicted upon his servant for failure is reasonable from her POV; and that second line is in a passage that carries an overall tone of "some hold so-and-so to be true," so not as seemingly omniscient as other parts of the Silm come across as. Also "bonds" is fairly vague; I don't think it's a stretch to consider that as either simply something that exists between any Vala and their Maiar -- they are beholden in some way to their service -- or even just the bonds of loyalty and adoration that Sauron developed towards Melkor.

Obviously, I don't think their relationship was all sunshine and sparkles; no relationship of any kind is. And it's true that the more favored you are, the farther you have to fall personal experience ✌️ I do think this is a fear that Sauron legitimately could have had -- one can conceive all sorts of reasons, from seeing how Melkor treats his other servants to residual feelings Sauron experienced in his days with Aule, but that goes way into headcanon territory and I'm trying to stay away from that here -- hence why Luthien playing on it was so effective. But -- and I haven't read every text available; yet! -- nowhere that I have seen so far does the text ever use words like fear, loathing, etc. the way it does when describing how, say, Orcs feel towards Melkor, to describe Sauron's relationship with him. Those words were available to Tolkien; if he had wanted to use them, he would have!

I've also seen people cite Sauron's absence after the incident at Tol-in-Guarhoth as evidence that he is terrified of Melkor and Melkor was abusive to him, hence he avoided him. Sure; you can take his absence in the text literally, and consider him MIA until he resurfaces in Eonwe's camp at the end of the War of Wrath. That's a valid interpretation, and you can choose to ascribe that absence to Sauron's fear of Melkor. But, again, there is no instance in which Melkor so much as punishes him, and also there's this bit:

In all the deeds of Melkor the Morgoth upon Arda, in his vast works and in the deceits of his cunning, Sauron had a part, and was only less evil than his master in that for long he served another and not himself. (Silmarillion, p. 24) [emphasis mine]

So, yes, Sauron isn't mentioned by name in any events subsequent to Huan tearing his throat out; but also, you can absolutely interpret him as having gone back and continued under Melkor until the end of the War since the text clearly states that he had a hand in every single deed. That is also a valid interpretation! Tolkien's omission on the matter can be taken either way.

And since I've been absurdly long-winded already (here's a cookie if you're still with me! 🍪), let's just make this even longer and look at the other side of the relationship :D

Angband was a fortress and armory that was created "to resist any assault that might come from Aman" (i.e., first and arguably most important line of defense) and it was left to Sauron to command. (Silmarillion, p. 44)

Melkor thought that the coming of Men to Beleriand was significant enough an occurrence to warrant his personal attention on the field, "leaving to Sauron the command of the War." (Silmarillion, p. 164)

Sauron was "the greatest and most trusted" of Melkor's servants. (Silmarillion, p. 341)

Concerning the making of Orcs, "The details of the accomplishment of this wickedness were, however, left mainly to the subtleties of Sauron." (Morgoth's Ring, p. 420)

Sauron repaired Angband in secret "for the help of his Master when he returned." (Morgoth's Ring, p. 421)

Also, Sauron's only thought upon beholding Luthien -- and the text makes special note that the fame of Luthien's unparalleled beauty and song had long been known to him -- is to capture her to give to Melkor (Silmarillion, p. 205). Leaving aside the details of why Melkor would want her (I can't remember if this is mostly-canon or if it's my own headcanon-extrapolated-from-canon, and I'm too lazy to look it up), what's important here is that he is literally the only character who is not taken with her or doesn't act upon some kind of desire towards her. No thoughts, head empty, only Melkor.

As we all know -- and struggle with and/or revel in, depending on the day -- there are a great many inconsistencies and differing versions of almost everything among Tolkien's writings; which only serves to highlight the exceptions! This -- the little we know of Sauron's relationship with Melkor -- is one of the exceptions, where literally everything I've come across suggests a relationship that is surprising in its... benevolence? almost, especially given how each party tends to treat others. It's rare for a villainous superior/trusted second-in-command relationship to not incorporate some type of plotting, backstabbing, seeking to overthrow, etc., or some kind of lashing out on the part of the more powerful party towards their subordinate. And especially set in Tolkien's world, which is very much a mythology constructed of opposing forces such as Good and Evil, it's unexpected! A complete oddity, contrary to what stories such as this would lead us to expect -- and all the more compelling for it! And, for the life of me, I can't understand why anyone would insist it is toxic and abusive instead -- such a take is terribly reductive and does huge disservice to the crafting of both characters involved.

To be clear, idc what people do in their fanfics, fanart, etc. It's your enjoyment, your headcanons, it's free real estate, go wild! No one can stop you! My issue is that I've recently seen an increasing amount of insistence that reading it as abusive is the canon interpretation and, no? And I do have to wonder how much a certain final episode of a certain show has to do with that, because "a great, clenched fist had released its grasp on my neck" is just. nowhere near how Tolkien characterizes this relationship and I mourn the fact that, given the far-reaching, multi-million dollar production that it is, this will be the "official" read of this relationship for a great deal of the general public.

(And, if you've made it to the end, here: 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪 all the cookies!)

[c-rowlesdraws]

I've gotten a bunch of anonymous asks about Sweet Pea and Nettle this week, so rather than answer them all in their own individual posts, I'm putting them in this post for convenience and tidiness. If you've sent me an anon ask recently, check in here-- you might see yours!

lol thank you. I didn't know there was actually officially a multiverse-- I just figured different people had made their own variations on the original setting over the years, officially and unofficially. Every DnD podcast I've listened to, or game I've played in or heard about, or DnD-inspired book I've read has taken place in a world with its own quirks and unique aspects based on the DM and players' (or writer's) own tastes and imaginations, and I love that.

she can eat pretty much anything! She would love a taco. If it comes in any kind of wrapper or little paper box, she's eating that, too.

thinking a creature is cute and thinking that same creature is edible don't have to be mutually exclusive! She would point out that people like humans don't think it's unusual to find livestock animals cute, or wild game like deer or rabbits. She really likes animals, actually, and can be very gentle and patient with them. She especially likes birdwatching.

oh, I like that! The mental image of that last part is very cute. From a quick google it looks like flinds are traditionally kind of like a gnoll warband miniboss, which is boring (like all the "oh no they're so evil!" one-note lore for these guys), so I like your take a lot better.

My own similar thoughts, borrowed from Ursula Vernon's excellent worldbuilding in Digger, are that surviving firstborn children are considered special and lucky, and an omen of good fortune for the whole clan. I didn't write this all out in my baby post, in case people just wanted to enjoy the art without my rambling, but because of the high risk of stillbirth for first-time parents (and also because of the general hazards a low-tech, wilderness setting poses for babies), infants' souls are considered especially fragile and flighty. The baby-naming ceremony being held when their fur starts turning from dark to light isn't just because it's a convenient developmental milestone-- it's to celebrate the child's soul committing to staying in the mortal world. Since the yellow fur starts to come in at the head, it's seen as a symbolic second birth.

I originally was going to make her a Barbarian, but she's not really the rage-ing type. I've been thinking of her as a good ol' classic Fighter, but her wilderness survival skills would fit with being a Ranger instead, too-- also, if it's possible to make, like, "human" a Favored Enemy (as opposed to monstrous humanoids usually offered as example choices, like... well, gnolls), I think turning the tables like that would be really funny.

aw thank you! Gosh, so many hugs for them.

Sweet Pea likes music! She plays the flute and also likes to sing. Non-gnolls tend to think her flute-playing is much nicer than her singing.

Nettle likes practicing sleight-of-hand tricks and roguish acrobatics-- she can do a handspring and she's very proud of it. She's a big fan of unnecessary parkour and climbing things just because they're there. ("Why is Nettle on the counter?" "She just likes to be tall.")

I don't think she has the patience or self-discipline to be a monk, unfortunately, lol

[moxfirefly]

4: I think the condom just broke with pregnancy and the parent fluff cause I'm in a mood with whichever turtles you want cause I know you probably dint wanna write fluff from a smut prompt

Dude pls fluff and smut together?! One of my fave things!

So disclaimer: I know lots of people aren’t for the whole human/creature pregnancy shizz so if it ain’t your cup of tea it’s gucci. I usually go for the it’s ‘not biologically possible’ but for the sake of this we are straying from that 👌

TW: Pregnancy scare/Pregnancy

Rated Mature (18+ only)

You felt it the instant it happened, hell even Raph did too. Something wasn’t exactly a hundred percent, because Raph had sped up when he felt how even better all of a sudden it go and you felt so full and warm too.

Full and warm and sticky...

Raph thrusted his release into you, overrun by instincts and desire and how impossibly good you were squeezing him. Legs raised over his shoulders, hands dug into his strong thighs for support, your orgasm knocked any possible coherent thought from your brain.

It was then in that post orgasm state of mind, where your limbs feel like gummy worms and you’re so warm on the inside, when you here the quietest ‘oh shit’ you’ve ever heard. You’re so out of it but you register his worried expression and that the moment he pulls out, there’s a gush of something warm seeping out.

Well that shouldn’t be the case since he was wearing...

You went wide eyed.

So did he.

“I... I think the condom just broke” Raphael’s voice was almost a whisper as he kept staring at where your bodies had been joined not even seconds ago.

“You’ve got to be kidding me” You sorely got your legs off of his shoulders and looked down at yourself. Sure enough the evidence was there, as well as the ripped condom he had just taken off. How? You’d used those dozens of times before, they were strong enough for his girth and strength.

On wobbly legs you got up and went straight to your bathroom, maybe it wasn’t much, maybe something could be done. Sitting there on the toilet, your brain became a reel of ideas and things to be or could be done. A oneshot surely won’t be the cause of you and Raph’s start into parenthood, maybe you could get some Plan B?

In your concentrations, Raph had quietly made his way to the bathroom. He seemed to have been running his own reel of thoughts.

“Babe-“ He started softly.

“I can barely take care of a house plant” You were in a trance.

“Hey-“

“That fake egg baby project in school? My mom cooked it on accident the next morning” You ran your hands over your face in frustration.

“Y/n hey-“

“I once dropped my phone on my friends baby while taking a picture, Raph I can’t do this” You covered your face, all those nice chemicals from before suddenly out of your system. Raphael shushed you as he took a knee in front of you. He grabbed your hands and pulled them away.

“Listen, do ya know how many fouls I committed with Mikey? I lost that little shit at least three times a week when we were growing up” He smiled when you huffed a laugh. “I hosed him down one time when he crapped his pants when he was five, ya don’t get it right the first time but it’s practice and I got real good at it” He pushed your disheveled locks out of the way.

“If this... um takes? I’m up for it. Yer not gonna do it alone”

And he didn’t lie because Raph never lied with you. He was on board, he was even excited about the concept and as time progressed so were you.

Even when you missed your period. Even when the random bouts of morning sickness hit. Even when you bought the tests and they came out positive.

Adjusting would be hard, but doable when you had a devoted father to be and a team of excited uncles to be.

And aunt to be April was there every step of the way.

It all feels surreal when weeks turn into months and it seems so far away when you were back in that bathroom with Raph holding your hands. In there here and now, you’re marveling at the tiny little thing you both brought into this world, so unique and different and beautiful.

And Raph wasn’t quitting, he’s there and he’s at times the actual Super Dad everyone joked he would be. How many times you found him, awake in three hours sleep, rocking and humming that little baby so you could get a few hours sleep. Watching him have full conversations, making inquires as if that kid could already speak full sentences and yeah you wanna pout when the baby’s first words are in fact ‘dada’ but he’s earned it and it’s so worth seeing him tear up and point enthusiastically at you so you watch.

So it’s no surprise to you when baby number two rolls by and the saying is true, you unlock veteran mode and handle that way more gracefully and with way less hiccups. Even Raph has gotten better at the discipline (even if you catch him caving when the kids turn on the water works).

Yes the bed is impossible now with all four of you piled in, yes having alone time is none existent (even if you two quickly found the gift of having the uncles babysit) but it’s worth it, it’s worth the joy and happiness.

By kid three (which you deem the final trilogy) it’s just as surreal, just as stressful and just as lovely.

And he’s there every damn step of the way.

[centeris2]

thoughts about the dark riders (headcanons?)

HAPPY DARK CORE DAY! Okay so this is something I was thinking about since doing the latest update with the Rainbow Festival with Katja. And I will say idk if the books have gone over this since I’ve only read the first one so far (although the books are divergent canon from the games, so pick and choose which one’s canon you’d want to go with)

For those who don’t know, in the original Starshine Legacy games, Sabine, Jessica, and Katja are known as dark generals and are quite clearly stated to be aliens. They were prisoners onboard the same ship as Garnok, their leader/god figure(?), and the forms the soul riders encounter on Jorvik are actually manifestations, mental projections given physical form but not the actual bodies of the alien generals themselves. Because of this I figured that while there may be tensions between them and different ambitions, they were still unified under serving Garnok and being prisoners together, and the only ones from their home planet (possibly the only survivors of the war) after thousands of years. Basically, it would take a lot for them to truly turn on each other or break them up.

But after the last two events with Sabine and Katja, I’m wondering if SSO is going in a new direction now: no more generals and no more aliens. (more under the cut it just got long and don’t wanna clog dashboards too much)

At the equestrian festival Sabine was talking about wanting a riding club, despite being with the dark riders, who by all rights should be a ride or die prove yourself group. Which implies that they aren’t. At the rainbow festival Katja says she’s always drained the life around her and prefers solitude. Chiyo looks and might actually be a literal child with a toy, who supposedly creates discord amongst the dark riders. What if they were all people who one way or another were found by Garnok/Dark Core and given powers? Originally humans, but possibly not anymore, who may have had powers that made them ostracized or targets. Katja could have been an example of this, if her Rogue/Elsa powers manifested as a human and the druids/local population wanted to kill her as a dangerous witch (or exile her or something)

In the Starshine Legacy games, Sands is shown to be the same age despite being over 100 years old, the oldest picture seen in game is him as a captain of a boat that found a strange sea creature, and then after that he goes on to become founder of Deep Core (later Dark Core). I wonder if they took that idea that perhaps somehow these different girls found Garnok, made a deal/bargain/gained power from Garnok somehow, and stopped aging. Or at the very least now age very slowly.

This may also be SSO leaning more heavily into the dark riders being dark riders, as in the evil twin version of soul riders: three (now four) people who were not friends before hand, are different ages and from (possibly) different time periods, and are all angry bitter and hurt at a world that hated them for one reason or another. They may be four people who thought they found someone or something that would help them (Garnok), only to find out that it’s a group project and you gotta work with these three other people and it doesn’t matter how much you hate each other or don’t mesh. Four no longer humans forced into the worst group project ever.

I mean you’ve got actual adult military level of discipline, precision, and perfection Sabine, angsty emo goth teenager Katja who just wants to sulk in a corner playing dubstep violin while waxing poetic about how cold her soul is, actual child Chiyo with her toy horse, and whatever Jay is gonna be. 

Like it’s certainly a direction SSO could go in by making the dark riders a very clear and obvious evil and opposite version of the soul riders friendship is magic. I’m not sure if they will, but who knows. It’d create an incredibly different dynamic from “alien generals who may be the last of their people, trying to free their leader, escape from prison, and get their revenge on their captors.”

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

The shifting narrative of God’s interventism and how it reflects on the narrative on John

This post will ignore the issue authorial intent entirely because I can, but it’s also about authorial intent in a way, but I also don’t like to talk about things as happening “accidentally” because a) a serialized story like Supernatural, especially one that got renewed for much longer than anyone could possibly expect or hope in their wildest ambitions, structurally relies on serendipity, because that’s how stories work when they’re work in progress, b) a television show is an extremely multi-authored text and the chance that something happens out of the intent of any of the multiple layers of creators is kind of... statistically negligible. So, yeah, that’s my stance on the topic. Anyway.

The shifting narrative about God is simultaneously something that hangs on fortunate storytelling clicks on an essentially programmed narrative. At first, we don’t know where the fuck God is. Cas starts looking for him with little success. Raphael says he’s dead, Cas doesn’t believe it. Dean relates to his struggle because he knows the feeling of not knowing where the fuck your father is and going looking for him with little success, not knowing if he’s even alive. Then the theory that gets assumed as the truth is that God has left. He fucked off who knows where, who knows why, leaving his creation to struggle alone. Also essentially how Dean had felt after John had died; in that case there was guilt for his demon deal and everything, but the most cruel weight on Dean’s shoulder was that John left him alone to struggle with his devastatingly horrific instructions he doesn’t understand. The angels are also left with horrific instructions they don’t understand. No wonder Cas does his own ‘demon deal’ in season 6, as he desperately tries to do what he assumes his father wants from him, but he doesn’t actually know what that is.

“God has left” is maddening, and everyone is angry about it, but it has its own dignity. God has left us without clear instructions, we are confused and in pain and evil runs amock but at least, we suppose, the evil of it is our own doing. We are alone and we do our best, our best is simply not enough. We wish he gave us guidance, but he won’t. He wants us to figure it out ourselves, possibly. We don’t actually know what he wants. But maybe that’s the point. It’s possible he doesn’t even know what’s happening, he just has left the building entirely.

But then Chuck reveals himself. We find out that he never actually left. He was there. “I like front row seats. You know, I figured I’d hide out in plain sight”. He simply chooses not to intervene. He chooses not to answer. He chooses to be hands-off. He presents himself as a laissez-faire parent, because, he says, it’s better for his children to have the responsibility they need to grow up. He’s absent, but in a different way than we thought! It’s not that he doesn’t know what’s happening or isn’t interested in knowing what’s happening. He’s here, he knows what’s happening, he just stays there and watches as you stumble and struggle and scream. It’s worse, and it pains Dean so much he isn’t even afraid to yell at God. You know we’re suffering and you just don’t give us any support, any comfort.

You’re frustrated. I get it. Believe me, I was hands-on, real hands-on, for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created... would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being overinvolved is no longer parenting. It’s enabling.

But it didn’t get better.

Well, I’ve been mulling it over. And from where I sit, I think it has.

Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us and you’re trying to justify it.

I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don’t confuse me with your dad.

At that point of the show, the writing team almost certainly didn’t have the s14-15 twist in mind. So this was probably intended to be Chuck’s truth. Later it gets twisted (retconned?) into a lie, but about that later.

Here, Chuck is really good at manipulating the conversation. Dean has a perfectly valid point, because there IS a middle ground between being overinvolved and not being involved at all. There is a middle ground between enabling your children and abandoning them completely. But Chuck hits Dean where it hurts, plays the emotional card, basically tells him that he’s too emotional to understand, too emotional to think rationally about it, because he mixes his feelings about his father to the issue and thus cannot see it clearly. He basically tells him he’s too close to it to get it. You don’t understand parenting, Dean, because you’re too blinded by your emotions about your own little life and cannot see the big picture.

It doesn’t really matter here if he’s telling the truth or lying, it already says a lot about Chuck that he’s emotionally manipulating Dean, silencing him by hitting the painful spot.

But the thing is, 11.20 immediately presents Chuck as a liar. He makes Metatron read his autobiography and the very first line is a lie (“In the beginning, there was me. Boom – detail. And what a grabber. I mean, I’m hooked, and I was there.” “I’m hooked too, and yet... details. You weren’t alone in the beginning. Your sister was with you.”) and the stuff he talks about his experience as Chuck is not exactly truthful about anything (“That, you know, makes you seem like a really grounded, likable person.” “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” “You are neither grounded nor a person!”). Metatron calls him out (“Okay. There are two types of memoir. One is honest... the other, not so much. Truth and fairy tale. Now, do you want to write Life by Keith Richards? Or do you want to write Wouldn’t It Be Nice by Brian Wilson?”). Chuck SAYS he chooses truth and gives Metatron a different manuscript, supposedly containing the truth, to which Metatron reacts positively. Metatron believes it, and we believe it with him.

Oh! Oh, this! This is what I was talking about. Chapter Ten “Why I Never Answer Prayers, and You Should Be Glad I Don’t”, and Chapter Eleven “The Truth About Divine Intervention and Why I Avoid It At All Costs”.

Nature? Divine. Human nature – toxic.

They do like blowing stuff up.

Yeah. And the worst part – they do it in my name. And then they come crying to me, asking me to forgive, to fix things. Never taking any responsibility.

What about your responsibility?

I took responsibility... by leaving. At a certain point, training wheels got to come off. No one likes a helicopter parent.

This is sort of what he later says to Dean, except that to Dean he talks about “beautiful creatures” “my baby”, talks about helping, none of the harsh tone he’s using here. When Metatron accuses him of hiding from Amara, he retorts “I am not hiding. I am just done watching my experiments’ failures”. What a different language, uh? Then Metatron asks him why he abandoned them, and Chuck answers “Because you disappointed me. You all disappointed me”. Then, he admits he lied about “learning” to play the guitar and so on, because he just gave himself the ability, and then appears to Dean and Sam, after Metatron’s passionate speech about humanity.

So, no matter the authorial intent at the time - the truthiness of Chuck’s words was already ambiguous. He kept lying and being called out, or silencing the conversation with some good ol’ gaslighting.

The season 14 finale introduces the big twist: it was, indeed, all a lie. The whole of it. Chuck didn’t abandon shit. It was all him, minutely controlling the narrative of the universe, putting the characters through all the pain and struggles for his own amusement.

The “absent father” narrative was a lie.

What does this tell us about John? Nothing, according to the authorial intent that shines through Dabb’s Lebanon. But we don’t give a crap about Dabb’s authorial intent about John! He’s just one dude and plenty of other authors have painted a different picture. So I’m going to read the narrative the way I want, because I can, and the narrative allows me to. It’s all there.

I’m suggesting that the fact that Chuck lied when he talked about being a hands-off/absentee father parallels how Dean and Sam prefer to think of their father as an “absent father” when that’s not exactly a reflection of the truth.

You left us. Alone. ‘Cause Dad was just a shell. [...] And I-I had to be more than just a brother. I had to be a father and I had to be a mother, to keep him safe.

Setting aside how “I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” sort of retcons and cleans up the Winchester family picture painted by ealier seasons, the fact that John didn’t really count as a functional father figure and Dean and Sam were essentually alone is not incorrect or anything. It is true that John would leave them to their own devices a lot, thus the long stays in motels, the hunger, the food-stealing, and all. But John wasn’t always absent, at all. He trained them as soldiers, he disciplined them, he was around enough for them to be intimately familiar with what happened when he drank. He drove them around.

It’s almost like it’s preferable to Dean and Sam to spin their own “absent father” narrative, putting the accent on the time they spent alone, painting their childhood as a time they had to grow up on their own, rather than acknowledge they grew up under the thumb of a controlling, looming figure they would regularly live in fear of, even when he was not physically present.

The “absent father” narrative is what Dean and Sam need to use to avoid confronting the reality of the father figure whose moods and whims they had to dance around. “I know things got dicey... you know, with Dad... the way he was. And I just... I didn’t always look out for you the way that I should have. I mean, I had my own stuff, you know. In order to keep the peace, probably looked like I took his side quite a bit.”

John shaped their lives. He shaped their identities. Even in the episodes where he abandons Dean or both children somewhere, he’s portrayed as the figure who drives the car. He symbolically drives the car, you know? John shaped Dean and Sam’s relationship with each other, both on a surface level (the conflicts) and on a deeper level (the parental dynamic).

Heck. The entire first season of the show plays on John’s disappearance as the “elephant in the room”. John is there by not being there, you know? And after he dies, his death - his absence - is again the elephant in the room for Dean, the weight on his psyche that he shatters under.

It is not wrong that Dean and Sam had to spend long periods of time without John. But John structured their lives in quite minute detail. Where they needed to be, what they needed to do, what they must not do, everything had to follow John’s instructions. A drill sergeant, the narrative called him, ordering how his sons needed to live their lives. That’s no absence, except on a level where Chuck not showing himself and pretending he’s not there can be considered absent. That’s a presence, not necessarily always physical, but semiotical and psychological.

John is an absent father as much as Chuck is a hands-off god. He even writes himself into the story around the time Cas has the “season 1” phase (let’s go look for dad/let’s go look for god), which is when John actually was alive and appeared. Then he was no longer physically there, but he was still shaping his characters’ lives, just like he’d always done.

The “absent father” narrative on John is that - a narrative. Spun by the characters themselves because it’s easier and actually kinder on John. Or, better, it allows them not to be crushed by the psychological implications of having to accept that their father was such a looming, minutely formative figure in their lives. They know, but they can wave the “absent father” idea around to avoid thinking about it.

“I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” is something easier to tell yourself. I was the one who did it all. But he wasn’t, and that’s the problem. The fact that John was their father - Dean’s and Sam’s - is the problem. But ironically, blaming himself for every failure is a better option for Dean than fully acknowledging John’s abuse. As long as he blames himself, he has control over it. The moment he acknowledges the extent of John’s influence, he loses control over the entire narrative of his own identity and the family identity, the family dynamics. That’s scarier, just like realizing that God manipulated everything is much scarier than the alternative. “God abandoned us” was indeed a better option, and “John left us alone” was a better option. But neither was true, and the characters faced the implications of the cosmic level, but never got to face the implication of the familial level, because the narrative always danced around it and then Dabb’s apologist version “won”.

But what’s been put in the show is still there. The narrative of John’s abuse is still there. Nothing can take it out of the story.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt - Wen Ruohan insists that Jiang Yanli come to the Wen "lecture" as well...

ao3

Jiang Yanli tended to deal with stress in one of two ways: cooking and taking care of people. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the Wen indoctrination camp provided many opportunities for both, although not with the people she might have expected.

Wei Wuxian spent most of his days being valiant and light-hearted, trying to give them strength and courage, and Jiang Cheng followed his lead the way he always did, brave and serious and thoughtful and – well. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate both of them, because she did, but it was only that her own anxiety was more easily dealt with when she could distance herself from her current situation and focus entirely on someone else.

She might have tried to take care of Jin Zixuan, but the Jin sect disciples closed ranks around him, glaring at her as if she were the one who broke off their engagement. Either way, she won’t go where she’s not wanted, and so she backed off and went elsewhere to look for someone that needed her.

Luckily for her, Nie Huaisang was very loud and very vocal and very, very needy.

They made for a surprisingly great fit.

Jiang Yanli had perhaps been forced to step into a maternal role a bit too early – Jiang Cheng had always been a soft child, and their father’s dislike of him had hurt him deeply where it had always seemed somewhat unimportant to Jiang Yanli, and Wei Wuxian was of course a big baby masquerading as a man. Her mother had always been disinterested in playing the mother, more fond of training and discipline, and so they’d turned to her when they were young, and still did today. Back at home, they would often descend to bickering and playing for her attention when she was around, knowing how much she liked it: Wei Wuxian demanding to be called A-Xian and fed spoonfuls like a toddler (albeit one capable of eating extremely spicy food), Jiang Cheng too proud to go that far but somehow managing to lose at least ten years of maturity, always looking at her hopefully to affirm that he did well and to sneak him treats behind everyone’s back.

That was the way she liked it, too. Possibly more than she really should, but it made her feel wanted and useful in a way that her weak cultivation never would.

Nie Huaisang, in contrast, had always been babied - by his father, by his over-protective older brother, by his long-suffering sect that nevertheless indulged him in everything. He’d suffered some things (his father’s death, first and foremost) when he was very young, and it sometimes seemed as he’d reacted to that by purposefully staying that age forever: useless and self-indulgent, spoiled and with a tendency to fuss, an unreasonable expectation that he could just turn his big eyes on anyone in his vicinity and they would immediately feel moved to cater to his every need.

Nie Huaisang, in other words, was just her type.

He was calling her ‘Jiang-jiejie’ within a shichen, putting his head on her shoulder a shichen after that, and kicking up such a dramatic fuss about everything that even Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng – who had come over with threats in their eyes about a strange man, even one of their friends, sticking himself so close to her – had ended up encouraging her to see what she could do to calm him down a little.

After they left, she looked down at his pathetic form and said, “You did that on purpose, you little brat.”

Nie Huaisang looked up at her with an impish grin that somehow still suited the tear stains on his face. “That’s true, but Jiang-jiejie won’t tell on me,” he said, as certain as any child. “Besides, this way we get to spend time together – and if we’re together, my guards will protect you as they do me, and your brothers won’t have to worry so much. Aren’t I smart?”

“Such a thoughtful child,” she praised, and he puffed himself up. “But you shouldn’t mislead your big brothers like that, you know. You could have just told them what you were thinking.”

“But where’d the fun in that be?” he said, and put his head on her shoulder again. “Jiang-jiejie will take care of me while I’m here.”

“Of course,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t punish you if you’re naughty, either.”

She did, too. She made him food out of the terrible provisions they received, she brushed his hair and let him teach her how to do his braids, she tucked him in at night before heading back to her tent, and even sat with him and helped him with his memorization and his chores – and when it was called for, she smacked him lightly on the backs of his hands that he held out to her for the specific purpose, scolded him and made him apologize.

She didn’t have any time to spare to worry about the Wen sect.

It was great.

“Uh, shijie,” Wei Wuxian said after a while. “Are you sure you’re okay with Nie Huaisang? He’s really…sticky.”

“He’s adorable,” Jiang Yanli said.

“He’s taking advantage of you,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed how he gets to sit with you in the shade instead of working with us.”

“He sits in the shade because the Nie sect disciples do his share of the work,” Jiang Yanli pointed out. “Just as you do for me.”

“Yeah, but…”

“He’s harmless,” Jiang Yanli said, even though she suspected that if he were pushed to it Nie Huaisang could escalate from brat past menace into actual threat. Hopefully it would never come that. “And it’s good to have company.”

“What do you even talk about?” Jiang Cheng asked. His cheeks were oddly flushed red, and he was averting his eyes – even more oddly, so was Wei Wuxian, who she previously would have said was too shameless to be embarrassed by anything.

“Art, mostly,” she said, puzzled, and even more puzzled when they both flinched. “Recently we were discussing famous landscape artists from the southern part of Gusu.”

“Oh, landscapes,” Wei Wuxian said, exhaling in relief. “That’s all right then. Glad you’re having a good time, shijie.”

“Have fun,” Jiang Cheng agreed, bobbing his head up and down like a fishing bird.

Later, Jiang Yanli narrated the conversation to Nie Huaisang and gave him a stern look when he started giggling. 

“Would you care to explain the joke to your Jiang-jiejie?” she asked, and he waved his hands for a moment of time to catch his breath before explaining to her that he had spent most of his time at the Cloud Recesses acting as a purveyor of a very different type of art.

Jiang Yanli rolled her eyes – fondly, of course, she was always very fond of her boys, even when they forgot that she was three years older than they were – and said, “All right, then, and when were you going to share some with me?”

“I was trying to figure out what types of things you liked first!” Nie Huaisang protested, and this was why she spent so much time with him even when her other boys were also here – he didn’t forget that she was the jiejie, the one who took care of him and made the decisions about what was appropriate, and he was the didi. He didn’t assume that being a man was more important than age, didn’t put aside their “games” of caring in favor of a valiant warlike demeanor; he remained, wonderfully, the same. “I’d gotten it down to three – here, you take this one; let me know what you think.” He winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out to make sure no one comes by while you’re reading.”

“If it’s anything too filthy, you’ll be punished,” she told him, and he looked so delighted by the notion that she suspected she was going to be getting something very filthy indeed. “Little boys don’t need to be looking at such things.”

“Without supervision,” he clarified, and sat down next to her with bright eyes full of anticipation, somehow even more shameless than Wei Wuxian. “From a qualified adult. Like Jiang-jiejie!”

The artwork was utterly filthy, but it was, in fact, just the sort of thing she liked when she snuck into her mother’s rooms to sneak peeks at books filched from the high shelves – better, even, and Nie Huaisang seemed to have an endless supply of it even though he complained bitterly that he’d only brought the cheap stuff that he wouldn’t mind losing, and that the best of that had been mostly bartered away.

That was what it was for, she discovered. Nie Huaisang was selling pornography to bored Wen sect retainers in exchange for creature comforts – better food, a nicer resting place, leniency when he inevitably failed to complete some chore or another – and using the conversations to elicit information.

Not spying, per se, that was far too serious for someone as determinedly frivolous as Nie Huiasang, but it was nice to know when the Wen sect was planning a surprise inspection in the morning or if it was a good day to put on their worst clothing because they were going to be wading through mud.

“You could be quite dangerous if you wanted to be,” she commented to Nie Huaisang one evening while she was brushing his hair. He was very particular about his braids, but he let her do the brushing and oiling; the repetitive action calmed his anxiety, and seeing him calm down and relax into her care in turn calmed her own. “You’re very good at being underestimated.”

“I think I’m estimated at just about right, actually,” he joked. If it had been Jiang Cheng saying it, he would have been turning a dagger on himself with the words; if it had been Wei Wuxian, he would have been boasting; with Nie Huaisang, it was just a joke. He had the confidence to be openly useless – the surest sign of a supportive loving family, she thought wistfully. “What about you? How dangerous are you when you’re not thinking about how to take care of someone?”

“I’m always thinking of that,” she chided him, and tugged lightly on his braids in chastisement; he shivered and quailed very satisfactorily when she did that. Such a good boy for her, when he wanted to be; a very good little brat the rest of the time. “And you know I’m not much of a cultivator.”

“Neither am I,” he said. “I still think Jiang-jiejie could be very scary if she put her mind to it.”

It was nice that he thought so. Nobody else did – perhaps what was why she’d become so interested in caring for people, in making food that they liked and brushing their hair and taking care of their clothing, the sorts of feminine arts that puzzled her mother and weren’t even necessary for a sect leader’s daughter to know how to do. She did it because it was something she could do that, and after a while it became something she longed to do.

Jiang Yanli loved taking care of people.

And Nie Huaisang was so very good at being taken care of. 

Even better than her little A-Xian, if she would allow herself the traitorous little thought – Wei Wuxian liked to play the child for her sometimes, to be spoiled, but he would get bored soon enough, staying only long enough for a few bites of soup and then running off to bicker with Jiang Cheng or to be the brave and chivalrous da-shixiong of the Jiang sect.

Not so Nie Huaisang. He was her little brat all day long: whining and in need of comfort one moment, running too far ahead and in need of a scolding the next, always pushing his luck to see what he could get away with. He was soft, like her; bad at cultivating and good at things like painting and cooking and gossip, feminine things, domestic things, which meant that they had an endless supply of things to talk about that no one else cared about. He made mischief but was obedient, and he thrived under the structure she provided for him, coaxed into doing what he ought and directed away from doing what he shouldn’t.

He was adorable, in a way that she’d never felt about her actual brothers.

Her newest little didi, her A-Sang.

They were, perhaps, growing a little too close.

(But no, Jiang Yanli still maintained the boundaries of being a proper young lady, good obedient Jiang-guniang. Even if she had picked up a very specific pornography habit – but she was never going to tell anyone about that.)

Still, it came as a surprise when they were all in the dark, wretched cave, when the Wen sect threatened them and the corrupted Xuanwu lashed out against the walls to bring down rocks, when one of the Nie sect disciples pushed her behind a rock, shouting, “Take care of Nie-gongzi!” to her as if they really expected her to keep him safe.

“Your men trust me too much,” she said into Nie Huaisang’s hair – his arms were wrapped around her, his eyes watching the battlefield, flicking from side to side as he tracked the course of battle with far more expertise than her. “Don’t you think they meant for you to take care of me?”

“They want you to help keep me from being upset,” he said, and disengaged from her long enough to pick up a fallen sword and throw it with surprising accuracy into the fray – it pieced one of the Wen sect soldiers from behind, breaking their battle line, and the Nie sect disciples overwhelmed them. 

It was a masterful stroke, but Nie Huaisang recoiled from his own hand as if he’d been burned by it. His eyes were wide and white all around the edges, old fears rearing up to rend him into pieces from the inside - she knew the look of it.

“It’s all right,” she said, whispering in his ear. “You did well, didi.”

His shoulders relaxed.

Whatever had made Nie Huaisang so very afraid of shedding blood must had hurt him very deeply, Jiang Yanli thought, and the Nie sect knew it. It all made sense now: that was why they indulged him, why they spoiled him, why they allowed him to grow up as useless as he was, even as they feared him falling into danger. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t be dangerous - but he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

(Jiang Yanli was very curious to meet the older brother he spoke so very much about. Nearly as much as she spoke of Wei Wuxian or Jiang Cheng, in fact, and didn’t that say everything she needed to know?)

“You should be careful, Jiang-jiejie,” Nie Huaisang murmured as they watched from their safe place as the battle raged on. Every once in a while, he intervened, each strike perfectly placed to cause maximum damage and showing that no matter how much he whined about training there was still muscle and deadly instincts beneath his skin; after each move, she would squeeze him tight and help him regulate his breathing, suppressing the panic attack he immediately fell into so that it could be postponed until a more convenient time. “I might grow to rely on you, and then where would we be? You’d have no choice but to come back to Qinghe and spend your life there with me.”

It was an offer, she thought in surprise, however gently phrased.

It seemed she wasn’t the only one getting a little too close. 

As it happened, Jiang Yanli didn’t have time to respond before the battle finally ended as abruptly as it had started, the Wen sect fleeing the Xuanwu and closing off the exit to the cave, trapping them inside with a ravenous Xuanwu – although one that couldn’t reach them in the corner where they cowered away from it.

The valorous men and women debated what ought to be done next.

The useless ones sat around and waited for their fates to be decided.

Oddly enough, this was the part that began to wear on her. The battle had passed almost without her noticing it, all her attention on caring for Nie Huaisang, but this aftermath - or preliminary, depending on how you looked at it - was utterly agonizing. Watching her brothers ignore her (useless in a fight), think nothing of her (they don’t need her to care for them), no one thought anything of her (what use is she if they don’t need her?) – and then watching them yell at each other and argue and fight without quarter, without mercy, and knowing that she couldn’t intervene, that she was pointless. Her own stress began rising rapidly, her heart beating hard, her breath starting to come short –

“Hey, Jiang-jiejie,” Nie Huaisang said.

She looked at him.

He smiled at her. “I’m hungry. You should make me some soup.”

“Brat,” Jiang Yanli said automatically, and her shoulders slowly came down, calm returning to her heart. He was obviously saying it to comfort her, she wasn’t stupid, but at the same time the request somehow suited her down to the ground and did the trick the way nothing else might have – after all, if her cowardly little brat had enough energy and attention to spare to be begging for food, things couldn’t be that bad. “What type of soup were you thinking?”

His smile widened as he watched the Xuanwu thrashing in the lake, dissatisfied that it could not capture them and rend their bones with its teeth. “Turtle soup.”

(They served it at their wedding.)

[ca-8]

Zuko x Reader Scenario: When You First Meet

She could get in so much trouble.

No disciplined, sane child would ever dare to sneak out at night, especially those with parents who act like the most important people to have ever existed. Parents who always expected their children to be well-behaved, respectful, quiet, and incredibly boring for every second of their life. Parents who don't have a clue of what relaxation meant, even if some sort of high-class professor gave them a month-long lecture about it.

Basically the kinds of parents (Y/n) was so sick of.

The nine-year-old bit her bottom lip as she ever so carefully pulled the door to the beach house shut. Once she was sure no one had woken up and was on their way to give her another five-hundred-hour lecture on her ‘ignoble’ actions (whatever that meant), she snuck down the stairs and dashed toward the direction of the beach. 

‘Is it this way? Or was it the other way?’ she questioned. She forgot, and her mind wouldn’t let her remember. Her heart was racing; she had never done something this audacious. If her parents had already woken up and discovered that the pillows under her covers were not her, she’d be better off being alone with a fully grown dragon while covered in the finest jewels. 

And yet, at the first sight of the moon just barely hanging over the ocean as its light painted a shimmering white streak over the water, she instantly abandoned the worry. Here, on the quiet, isolated beach, she was free.

(Y/n) took off her shoes, and her toes instantly sunk into the cool sand. Her eyes scanned the beach, from the giant rocks asserting an aura of dominance, the tranquil ocean reflecting the twinkling stars that partnered the moon, and instantly to the lone turtle crab. 

A wide smile spread across her face, and she quietly approached her favorite animal. It stood at the end of the ocean line, gazing up at the stars. Something tightened inside of her; it looked so...lonely. 

“Hello!” she greeted, perhaps a bit too loudly than she intended, when she bent over it, suddenly covering its view. The turtle crab jumped and shrunk back a little in its shell, though (Y/n) still could see its upside-down face. 

“Why're you by yourself? Where're your friends?” she asked, jumping down beside it and making sand fly all over her pajamas. It stared back at her, then ever so slowly emerged from its shell. (Y/n) gasped. “Do you not have any?”

The turtle crab only blinked in response. “That’s terrible!” she exclaimed. "Buuuut then again, I don’t have any either, so… Hey, why don’t the two of us be friends?” She got on her knees, and the turtle crab’s only view was her giant smile. It blinked again, not saying yes, but also not saying no. 

“Great!” she cheered, embracing her new friend. Though a turtle crab wasn’t really her original ideal friend, every single kid she met proved themselves to be the most stuck-up, boring, rude people in existence, so maybe this was the better option. “So what’s your name?”

She immediately felt stupid when it didn’t, or, rather couldn’t, respond. “Ehehe, right, uh, you can’t talk,” (Y/n) realized. “But don’t worry, I can give you a name! What abooouuuttt….” The young girl scanned the animal for a quick moment before saying, “Misterrr...Snapper?”

It stared right at her, the moonlight reflecting off of its black eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She got up and bowed respectfully to the small creature, just like how her mother taught her whenever they approached someone important. “Nice to m-I mean, my name is (Y/n) (L/n), and I’m delighted to meet you, Mr. Snapper.”

She glanced at the turtle crab again and let out a soft laugh, then carefully picked it up and put it on her head. Her stomach flipped, and she couldn’t help but envision how loud her mother would be when she’d tell her to get it off her head. But, for now, she put the thought aside and focused on being glad it didn’t panic and run off. 

“You’re weird,” she giggled, “I like you, Mr. Snapper. Now, what should we play tonight?”

The night always seemed to last forever, so (Y/n) and Mr. Snapper could do whatever they wanted without anyone saying otherwise. When the moon would lose the war over the sky with the sun, it could be the second she’d stop running around the entirety of Ember Island. 

But doing that seemed pointless. And Mr. Snapper didn’t look like the type to enjoy marathons or running in general anyway. 

“I know!” (Y/n) abruptly exclaimed, making Mr. Snapper bounce on her head. She gazed up, expecting to see his curious eyes, but only obtained the sight of the twinkling stars. “What do you think about being the Dark Water Spirit?” 

~

“He...He’s gone,” (Y/n) whispered in the deepest voice she could make, staring dreamily at the ocean line where the moon had almost touched the water. She glanced back at her princess, Mr. Snapper, who stood silently with the white shell on his head. She didn’t know why she expected him to say his lines in a high-pitched, princess-y voice. 

“Yes, this glorious land is finally free from the Dark Water Spirit,” the young noble said, moving Mr. Snapper in a way that made him appear as if he were talking in the high voice she was doing for him. “And now, we can be together, Noren.”

(Y/n)/Noren picked him up and stared into her mortal girlfriend’s eyes as huskily as she could (she also tried not to burst out laughing when she thought about it). “I never thought I’d fall in love with a mortal, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off of you, Yua.” 

Mr. Snapper/Yua blinked, the moonlight reflecting off of his/her eyes. The shell began to fall off his/her head and (Y/n)/Noren fixed it quickly. “Does that mean you’re going to stay mortal? I can’t exactly marry a dragon, you know,” Mr. Snapper/Yua “said”. 

“Hm, let’s just say you’ll be seeing the best of both worlds. Now kiss me, Empress!” Yua and Noren gazed into each other’s eyes for a blissful eternity, and they slowly leaned into the moment of affinity. Their lips were close, even though Yua seemed to be pulling away for some reason, and then-

“Um, what are you doing?” 

(Y/n)’s soul was yanked out of Noren’s body and forcefully transported back onto Ember Island. Inches away from her face was no longer Empress Yua, but Mr. Snapper without his crown. And standing a few feet away from them was none other than Prince Zuko. 

The Prince of the Fire Nation was here. He was standing right there. Staring at the daughter of a lowly noble as she was about to kiss a turtle crab.

Had the air only turned unbearably hot and heavy to her or did something set the moon on fire? 

“Nothing,” she answered immediately in Noren’s voice. (Y/n) cleared her throat, mumbled an “I mean”, quickly held Mr. Snapper by her side, then put on the most innocent smile she could muster. “Nooothing,” she said in a voice much higher than it was supposed to be.

The Prince stared at her like she was standing on water and speaking three different languages all at once. “O...kay…” he said slowly. 

'Who taught you to talk in such an absurd way to the Prince?' her mother's voice suddenly echoed within her mind. 'Fix your posture and throw away that ridiculous smile. And please, dear, speak NORMALLY.'

“S-SO!” she yelled, making him jump and instantly breaking every one of mind mother's rules. “What’re you doing here? On this beach? That my, uh, family bought? I think? Cause you, uh, have your own beach, cause you’re a prince, a-and...um…” Her smile widened despite her infinitely growing urge to bury herself as deep into the ground as possible and hide there forever.

“This is actually my family’s beach,” he said with eyes knowing this was the dumbest girl on the planet. “You’re the one not supposed to be here.”

'Once again, you're acting like an embarrassment to our family,' mind mother muttered.

Everything inside her twisted and tightened and told her to run. Though there were tsunamis of embarrassment hitting her relentlessly, there were also tiny ripples of realization. “Huh, so that’s what that sign meant when it said ‘Prince Ozai’s Beach’,” (Y/n) commented. 

The Prince winced. “What? Are you-?”

Her eyes widened as they caught the animal he held in his arms. “IS THAT A TURTLE CRAB?” she shouted, then ran up to the boy and bent down to get a better look at the other turtle crab. Prince Zuko jumped back and hissed at her to be quiet, and her instincts told her to bring back the courtesy for him she had just thrown out the window. However, she only inched closer because LOOK AT THAT ADORABLE LITTLE FACE HOW DID SHE NOT NOTICE IT EARLIER?

"Awww, so cuuuute!" She reached out to pet it, but it sank back in its shell. Mind mother sighed, creating a tiny hint of guilt inside her. 

"H-Hey!"

(Y/n) looked up at the nine-year-old Prince, glancing back at the turtle crab every few seconds. "Keep your voice down or else you'll wake up the whole island!" Prince Zuko whisper-shouted. 

She stood up, cocking her head, then caught a glimpse of the turtle crab again. "What're you doing with it anyway?" 

"Um…" He glanced down at the turtle crab. "N-None of your business!" he insisted hurriedly with a hint of pink on his face.

She squinted her eyes at him, and the stern look in his onyx pupils faded away to the same confusion from earlier, then discomfort when more quiet seconds had passed. "You're...here because Miss Green broke into your room but you couldn't keep her there so you brought her back to shore because you wanted to make sure she made it back home safely!" (Y/n) took in a large breath, filling her almost-empty lungs.

The Prince stared back at her with widened, bewildered eyes. "...Who?" he said. 

"Your turtle crab's name! I named it that because it reminds me of my first teacher, Mrs. Red, but since it has a green shell, well, you know. Also, totally off-topic, but have you noticed that red and green go so well together? I've been getting into sewing lately, and I was thinking that Ms. Green and Mr. Snapper, that's my turtle crab's name, by the way, could have red and green sweaters! Wouldn't that be adorable?" 

He said nothing. He didn't exactly look angry, but not really pleased too.

Her smile dropped, then she giggled nervously. "Sorry, I'll stop talking. A-And you don't have to call it that if you don't want to! Or name it at all! I-I was just-"

The Prince went against his fear of being caught as he let out the loudest laugh (Y/n) ever heard.

Her entire body felt like it had been engulfed by every firebender's element. Her family might as well have formed a crowd around them with their disapproving gaze. 'Maybe Mr. Snapper can help me start a new life under my bed,' she thought as she gazed at her feet.

"You're weird," the Prince suddenly said, chuckling. 

(Y/n) snapped her gaze up at him and saw his weirdly relieved smile. "Oh, thanks!" she said, feeling her own smile curl upon her lips. She wasn't one hundred percent sure if he really meant that as a compliment, but his face didn't hold any signs of mockery. 

Her stomach did a backflip. Was the Prince, one of the most important people ever, being...kind of nice to her?

Prince Zuko laughed again, then after a quick moment, his face went back to being serious. "Um, please don't tell anyone I'm doing this, okay?" he said.

(Y/n) beamed and nodded. She stood in silence for once while Prince Zuko sighed, walked over to the edge of the water, then placed the turtle crab on the rolling water. 

Mr. Snapper wiggled out of her arms and crawled over to Ms. Green. Zuko stepped back until he was next to (Y/n), and the two animals stood together facing the moon with their claws just barely touching. 

"Ah, that's so adorable!" (Y/n) squealed. "It's like Yua and Noren!"

Zuko turned and raised an eyebrow at her. "You know about Love Amongst The Dragons?"

The girl gasped dramatically, swiftly putting her gaze on him. "Know it? I'll have you know that I've memorized every single line of that play!" she said, holding her head high with pride. "I can perform every character at any time! In fact, I was doing just that before you interrupted my final act." 

'You do realize you're still talking to someone much more important than you, right dear?' mind mother whispered. (Y/n)'s grin was wiped off her face along with most of her pretension. 

Surprisingly, he didn't look offended. "That's my favorite play, too," he said with a hint of enjoyment on his face. "Was that why you were about to make out with your turtle crab?"

She blushed furiously and pouted, averting her eyes. "M-Maybe…and his name's Mr. Snapper..."

Prince Zuko chuckled again and after a moment of weirdly comfortable silence, a frown appeared on his face. "Hey, I need to head back. And you should go in case the guards kick you out."

"...Th-There are guards here?" (Y/n) whispered. She ran over and fiercely hugged Mr. Snapper, then went back over to him, her voice slightly increased. "Why didn't you say so?!" 

He smiled the most carefree grin in the world. "I thought you knew, since you're on my dad's beach."

"Well, it was nice meeting you Prince Zuko, but now I need to figure out how to escape before my parents have to get me out of prison." She quickly bowed, her heart fluttering at the sound of the Fire Lord's grandson enjoying her joke (hopefully it stayed like that). 

"Wait!" he suddenly called.

She was beginning to run back to the beach house when he did. (Y/n) turned around and said, "Yes?"

"Um," he started, hesitating. The young girl cocked her head; someone like him shouldn't be nervous about talking to someone like her. If anything, she should still be the one hesitating and worrying about what to say. "What's your name?" he finally asked. 

She flashed a grin as the moon began to lower into the light pink sky. "(Y/n), Your Majesty." Before he could respond, she ran off the beach as fast as she could, hoping to see her parents still asleep within the beach house.

[fandoms-and-things]

So someone told me I should actually post my psychology assignment for adolescent psych...

Pop Culture Assignment

The long-running TV show, Supernatural, follows the story of two brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester, who repeatedly save the world from demons, monsters, angels, vampires, and any other number of mythical creatures. The show begins by flashing back to their childhood with the death of their mother as she bursts into flames on the ceiling above the cradle of the younger brother, Sam. Sam, Dean, and their father, John Winchester survive the fire and we later learn that it was all caused by a demon. From that day forth John Winchester makes it his life mission to avenge the death of his wife and begins spending his life as a “hunter” for supernatural creatures in the hopes that one day he’d come across the one that killed his wife. However, travelling from motel room to motel room back and forth across the country, facing dangerous creatures day in and day out is no healthy way to raise two children and this comes across very clearly in the parenting styles John uses and especially in how they affect the development of the elder son, Dean.

Supernatural is a show that has a very large fan following and thus has people all over the world dedicating hours upon hours a week to it - creating fanart, writing novel-length stories, or even analyzing the character’s every action to figure out their intrinsic motivations. Thus, in my analysis of the character of Dean Winchester and the effect his father’s parenting had on him, I would like to take into account the more popular subplots that fans have collectively believed to be true even if it is not directly evident in the media.

Parenting styles play an important role in the development of children to adolescents and beyond through the rest of their lives. There are four main parenting styles: authoritarian, authoritative, permissive, and neglecting. Authoritative consists mainly of high acceptance and high control, they are controlling but flexible such as making reasonable demands and explaining why they have those rules. Authoritarian parents have high control and low acceptance and are often highly restrictive, rely on punitive, forceful tactics, and are not sensitive to their child’s or viewpoints. Permissive parents practice low control and high acceptance - being very lax with establishing and enforcing rules and making few demands at all. Finally, neglecting or uninvolved parents are low control/ low acceptance, being extremely lax and may have either rejected their children or been completely overwhelmed by their own issues to worry about caring for their children All four parenting styles have different effects on the person they’re being used to parent. Authoritative parenting often leaves children in the best case scenario all around: happy, socially responsible, self-reliant, achievement-oriented, etc. Authoritarian parents leave children commonly less independent, less assertive, less achievement oriented, aimless, and unhappy. Permissive parents create children who may be impulsive, aggressive, bossy, self-centered, and lack self-control. Neglectful parents have children who are commonly aggressive, have behavioral problems, poor academic performance, hostile, and a higher likelihood of delinquent acts. These are only the beginnings of the effects the style of parenting used can affect their kids.

On Archive of Our Own, a popular fanfiction website, the tag “John Winchester’s A+ Parenting” has nearly 3,400 works posted. This tag is used in obvious satire as John Winchester often flip-flops between Authoritarian and Neglecting parenting styles. As the boys were growing up, John often gave them some money for food and then left them alone in various motel rooms for days on end as he went on trips to hunt the various supernatural creatures. Dean was always left in charge of his younger brother in these moments. Dean made it his job to take care of Sam to the best of his ability, and would sometimes have to forgo food for himself for days in order to keep his brother well fed. On at least one occasion, he had to resort to stealing food after the money he’d been left not being enough to last them as long as their father was gone, and when his father came to get him after he’d been caught he told the police to “let him rot in jail”. Dean grew to end up being the closest thing to a real parent figure for his brother; one Christmas, Dean lied to his brother saying that his father had come over night, decorated their dingy motel room and left presents, instead, Dean had done all this himself and stolen the presents from a house down the street to give to his brother. In later adolescence, Dean can be seen gambling and hustling pool, and his actor in one interview even suggests that he may have taken to sex work at some points to make extra money. These instances help display the neglecting side of John Winchester’s parenting and how it led Dean to commit delinquent acts. Dean also never graduated from high school and has a history of anger issues, all possibly stemming from neglectful parenting.

On the other hand, when John Winchester was around, he undoubtedly took on an authoritarian parenting style. He was a “my house, my rules” kind of guy, or in this case, “my car, my rules” since they spent so much time on the road. He had both boys call him “sir” and demanded them to “follow his direct orders” all of the time and would scold them if they stepped out of line, even resorting to physical discipline. John also taught Dean how to shoot before he was even ten years old. One day when their family-friend, Bobby, was babysitting them, he got scolded on the phone by John for playing catch with Dean instead of doing target practice with a shotgun. Growing up, Dean thought his father was a hero for hunting monsters and grew to idealize him and be the most loyal son he could be. Because of this, while father was still alive, Dean never really got the chance to develop emotional autonomy, his father would have found it disrespectful to ask for any kind of freedom and since Dean always wanted to please his father, he never even asked. Throughout the series, Dean is repeatedly referred to as his father’s “good soldier” or “Daddy’s blunt little instrument” insinuating further that Dean was extremely affected by his father’s authoritarian parenting style. Additionally, John Winchester also used some psychological control - influencing his child’s behavior by ignoring, discounting, belittling, withholding affection, and injecting shame and guilt. In one episode, Dean immediately knows his father is possessed because John said he was proud of Dean and Dean knew that would never happen under normal circumstances. Additionally, John is a man very preoccupied with being the “manliest man” he can be and made sure to instill this in his children at a young age and would use various language to belittle his sons showing any signs of weakness like by saying “stop being such a girl”, etc. Many fans have analyzed that Dean Winchester is bisexual and agree that this belittling would be the main cause of Dean’s internalized homophobia that he may not even come to terms with until in his 40s. All of this as well caused a lot of internalizing and externalizing issues for Dean, shattering his self-esteem and making him afraid to be open with his emotions. Overall, I would say that John Winchester’s two negative extremes in terms of parenting style greatly impacted the overall wellbeing of his sons and especially his eldest, Dean.

[m-y-fandoms]

Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Ultimate Monster Hunter reader - Part 2 (Supernatural AU)

Part 1 

WARNINGS: Blood Drinking, Vampire Bites

Please excuse any grammar mistakes. I think I got most but I edited this at 5 A.M. ... I will go back over it and scan for errors soon.

- Admin Kokichi

     Hours passed since your unfortunate encounter, and your heart and mind had finally shaken off the creeps. After finishing your little self-guided tour of campus, you headed to the Main Course dorms to find your room. Your luggage was arranged to come later that evening, but you wanted to see the dorms for yourself now with little else to do. 

      Once you shut the door, the warmth of the sunlight gave way to a wave of the best air conditioning money could buy. The place looked very clean and tidy, with nothing out of place save for a few displaced balls and plastic cups atop a pool table and what appeared to be forgotten lecture notes on a shelf above a central fireplace. This must be the common area, a lounge for the most deserving students in the world!

     Behind the fireplace on either side were two sets of pretentious-looking stairs that led up to what you assumed were the actual dorm rooms. You searched your pocket for your student key card. You flipped it around over and over again in your hand, searching.

     “What?” You weren’t going crazy, were you? Neither floor nor room number were indicated on your card. You pulled your phone out, quickly sifting through emails and texts. Nope. Nowhere, at any point, had the housing department told you exactly what room was yours. Way to drop the ball, Kirigiri… you sighed, finding this situation both a bit humorous and exasperating considering the status of the school.

     Well, you were a last minute transfer. There were bound to be slip-ups.

     Sighing, you resigned to sit, relax for a few minutes, then call the housing department, or simply walk over to the main office building if it was still open.

      "Maybe I'll just..." you decided you'd earned the two minute break and walked leisurely over to one of the beige leather seats. Sitting, you set your chin into your hand propped up by your elbow on the arm of the chair, and began to think of how much you missed your tools. School regulations didn’t allow poisons, crossbows, guns and silver bullets inside the dorms... for obvious reasons. Even students of the blade or other offensive disciplines had to keep all sharp and lethal objects in their practice rooms and out of the dorms (not that all of them followed these rules). Students were allowed to customize and adjust their uniforms according to their talent, but you couldn’t even do that, what with all of the tools of your trade being lethal or unexplainable to the ignorant masses.

     It felt weird, not having a wooden stake strapped to your ankle, not having wolfsbane hidden away in a compartment on your belt. You felt out of place, without knives and rune-inlaid whips hidden on your person... uncomfortable. This school really wasn’t for you.

     "Ah, it’s you!" A voice came from behind.

     "Huh?" You gasped, flying up from your seat, thoroughly startled. Your knee banged off of the coffee table in front of it, leaving you feeling like an absolute buffoon. Your hand instantly flew to your leg, and you hissed softly in pain.

     “Whoops! Didn’t mean to startle you, sorry!”

     Your eyes followed the voice all the way up the stairs to its owner. Nagito was scrambling down the stairs toward you apologetically, feeling responsible for your blunder. He reached his hands out as of to offer you his aid, but froze upon seeing you take a step backward. He stopped directly in front of you, clearing his throat before continuing.

     “What are you doing here? You don’t have to start classes yet?” You stared into his eyes, and a tremble ran up your spine. The greenish-grey, glistening spheres appeared icy and far away. “Well?" When you didn't respond, he spoke up again.

     "I uh... um..."

     "You have a way with words, I see, just like when we met earlier today." He teased, laughing warmly. He had one of those genuine smiles, where the eyes exude friendliness just as much as the mouth, and their misty shine entranced you deeply. He laughed again, a bit awkwardly as you merely gawked at him. A light blush formed on his cheeks and he swept some of his cloud-like hair away from his forehead. He held the eye contact, though, searching your mind for something, anything to tell him more about you. You felt a stinging begin, like a migraine forming in the depths of your brain.

      You shook your head roughly, tearing your eyes away from his gaze. How could you have fallen for that one? 

     Vampires could very easily compel the mortal mind, put one in a mind-hazing trance with direct eye contact alone. Being the offspring of one of the best hunters ever born, you were trained to notice when the bloodsuckers made their attempts to ensnare your mind or read it like a book. That headache was your warning sign, the last defense of a disciplined mind, but it shouldn’t have even of gotten that far. 

     You were slipping… why did this vampire feel… different?

     More importantly, you forced your mind to change the subject, how long had he been trancing other students? Was he doing this on purpose? Some vampires simply forgot their own strengths at times. Did Kirigiri know? Is this dangerous creature simply going around unchecked... doing whatever the hell he likes?!

     He coughed, his eyebrows furrowing with a sudden seriousness. He’d been searching your mind, looking around desperately for a clue, a story, a hint, and just as soon as he thought he’d found an interesting page to start reading, the book was snapped close in front of him. He was pushed out in an effort that seemed practiced, skillful. You saw the discontent lining his features, and decided you needed you stop this. You two needed to be on the same page, before he tried anything else on you; something stupid, or more bold. You couldn’t keep up this charade any longer. You had a feeling he was feeling the same way.

     "Stop that.” You spoke sternly, concisely, confidently. He needed to know not to try that shit again, that you would not simply be prey like others, not mentally nor physically. His mouth formed a smirk, one of relief and something like acknowledging the other player in a game.

     “Ahh~ so I see that I was correct after all. Are we done playing pretend now? Awww, I was actually having a lot of fun! It was quite stimulating, actually.” He frowned, pouting like a child called home at dusk after playing outside all day.

     “I’m afraid so. Sorry to disappoint you,” you crossed your arms over your chest defiantly,” and I don’t appreciate my mind being picked and prodded at. That’s extremely disrespectful, you know? That’s none of your business. If you’re doing that to people on the regular around campus, I will inform the headmaster.” You held a finger out, poking his chest firmly and with aplomb, and he only smiled in response, finding this attempt to intimidate him rather adorable. He held in a giggle behind his hand, not wanting to anger you. “Am I amusing to you?” You threw him a cross look, and he held his hands up in surrender.

     “No, of course not! I was just thinking, well... how do you know? About me, I mean?”

     You face went blank. You weren’t expecting this question, though you probably should have been. There was no possible way to answer this honestly. What were you supposed to say? The headmaster forbade you from telling anyone of your true talent. Disregarding that point, what would this vampire do to you once he found out you were one of those sworn to kill his kind? You didn’t have any means of defending yourself at present. You couldn’t outrun him, or fight back with raw strength. He couldn’t do anything right? He wouldn’t… if he were that brash, there’s no way Kirigiri would’ve let him enroll here in the first place. He has to be on excellent behavior to attend Hope’s Peak, right?

     You blinked once, twice. He was waiting for a response, staring patiently. You needed a response, and quickly.

     “W-what are you doing here?” Nice. Perfect.

     “Huh?” His head tilted, taken aback by the curveball you threw his way.

     “W-well you asked what I’m doing here, and you’re right, if I were starting classes today, I would be in one right now. We have the same core classes outside of the individualized training of our talent specialization. I saw the class rosters and schedules! I know you should be in class right now as well!” You were getting louder with every word, feeling very cornered and vulnerable at the moment. If you had just even one weapon on you… just one…

     “Well, uh…” now you had him. You smirked, feeling pretty clever at the moment. “I forgot my books... just my luck haha,” he countered, “So I came back to my room to get them!”

     “Then where are they?” And sure enough, he had nothing on him but the clothes on his back.

     “Hmm… well I came through the second floor entrance,” he gestured over his back “...and I was about to head to my room but I got uhhh… distracted I guess you could say. I really am hopeless.” There was that big, dumb, goofy grin again. Your mind took a second, but then it clicked.

     “...You smelled me…” you spoke slowly, cautiously.

      “Uh… I guess yeah. You could say that. Well that’s exactly what happened, really. I suppose I am glad we ended our little farce! Would’ve been hard to explain that one...” his index finger reached up, scratching at the side of his mouth pensively.

     “You really are a creep!”

     “Yeah, I’m the worst, I know...” Why was he smiling while saying this? “I’m sorry, again. Usually, it’s not like this. Of course I admire our talented peers and am drawn to them as they are pinnacles of hope and the building blocks of the future, but...” he pantomimed through the air grandly, “ I am very conditioned to the human scent. It doesn’t usually alert me nowadays. I dunno… guess the... tantalizing smell of a particularly interesting human was enough to… stir me.” He smirked almost tauntingly. Your eyes widened, but narrowed again immediately. You would not show him weakness. 

     “Stop that.” You scowled.

     “Apologies, (Y/N). Just speaking my mind. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m just sort of a disgusting waste of space.” Your scowl melted into a sort of sympathetic frown despite yourself. Did he really mean that? Why would he say that about himself? Vampires were usually more vain on the spectrum of supernatural beings. “I just hold Main Course students in really high esteem, and you’re no exception... actually, far from it. Ever since I met you this morning, you’ve been on my mind more then most mortals… strange...” he seemed lost in his own little world. What? What the hell was going on in his crazy little head? The silence caught his attention, and he seemed to remember you were there as well, looking into your eyes again. He caught himself, making sure to not to make such direct eye contact with you. When he was in these weird moods, he never could quite control his more passive abilities and instincts. “Anyway... yeah, it’s unfortunate that I’m going to be missing part of class now… not that I don’t enjoy the pleasant surprise! I knew there was something special about you right off the bat!" Would he still think that after he knew your true calling? You looked to your right, thankful for the large staircase to escape to. He was giving you unsettling vibes once again. 

     Supernatural beings were known to imprint easily on mortals. Some saw them as beautiful, perplexing, ethereal in their impermanence. Some killed and ate them just because devouring humans, or torturing them until the panicked aura of their tiny, weak souls radiated around the room and feeling that temporary fragility, that adrenaline, was the only way they themselves could feel human. This urge to feel close to humanity was only doubled, dangerously so, in supernaturals who were once human themselves. It was an insatiable need to return to that normalcy, that frailty. 

     Swiftly, you scampered over to the bottom step to put some distance between you and the increasingly imposing immortal before you.

     "Ah, I see. Well, anyway, thanks I suppose. I uh..." you grinned clumsily. “I was just looking for my room, albeit unsuccessfully. You can go ahead and get your books now! I don’t want to hold you up any longer!”

      "I can help! It’s no big deal. The way they get students moved in here can sometimes be confusing. Actually, they put your room number on the student portal, not your card or paperwork, heh! And they don’t even tell you, leave you to find out yourself!” He pulled a large, black rectangle from his pocket, crossing the distance to wave it in front of you like a treat.

     What the...? You patted down your shirt and bottoms alike.

     “Is that my phone? How the hell-?!”

     “Ah, yeah, sorry about that! I swiped it from you when I first came downstairs! I thought it’d help me get to know you better, had you not been willing to divulge the knowledge you have of my kind’s existence.” Once again he was calm, cool and casual whilst in the midst of saying such unusual words. What was this guy’s deal? “Here, you can have it back!”

     “Yeah, I should hope so!” You reached out to snatch your phone from his hand, and it was like time froze.

     The moment your fingertips touched his own in the exchange, your indignant eyes met his, and saw something feral flicker in them. The phone switched hands, and a spark of sorts traveled through your skin and into his. As you pulled back, his hand shot out, taking a tight grip around your wrist.

     Your cheeks warmed up, at once flustered when the atmosphere changed drastically. Your eyes dilated in panic and his lips moved forward, resting upon your hand. He seemed to tense up, a rigidness taking up his entire body. His closed eyes opened wide to match your own and he inhaled deeply of the skin of your knuckles. You pulled away quickly, spooked.

     "S-something wrong? Why are you so weird? I’ve never met any of your kind quite like you." You rubbed your hand curiously.

     “So, you’ve met others?” It was clear he was trying to hold back something deep inside of him that begged to crawl out, his eye twitching slightly.

     “Answer my question.”

     "No, of course not... you just smell... nice, as I said before." He looked away from you, hand extending to guide you upstairs and in the right direction, but your brain was telling you not to go anywhere with him in tow.

     “I- I can find my way myself, but thanks!” You began logging into the Hope’s Peak student portal through your phone’s browser, and quickly looking through your profile to find your room code and number.

     “I insist!” He followed you up the stairs, trailing after your scent like a starved hound. Why couldn't he just get lost? Your thoughts raced anxiously. If you’d had your equipment on you, he would’ve been long dead. He was exhausting, and he didn't feel… safe. “Found it?” he inquired over your shoulder. As you reached the top of the steps, you began to feel your blood boil, but you knew not the true cause of this involuntary reaction.

     Your last little exchange left you feeling foolish and naive. How could you have let a vampire get that close? Why would you let him indulge in the scent of you knowing how easy it was for them to take advantage of humans? You were royally pissed off, and looking for a way to expel that rage, to hurt someone or something the way you were hurting inside.

     “I know you’re a vampire because I kill them. My whole family does. It’s essential to be able to identify one in my line of work. I’d be a pretty shitty hunter if I couldn’t do even that, and you aren’t exactly good at hiding it.” You found your door, swiping your keycard into the extremely sleek, high-tech lock system, and forcing it open a bit too harshly. The frustration you tried to hide in your voice was evident in your actions. Nagito halted, stilled stiff by your suddenly bitter words.

     “Ah,” he cleared his throat, also hiding emotions of his own, “The Ultimate Hunter... it makes sense now.” He recalled seeing your title along with your name on his own school portal. How did he miss that one?

     “Yeah, so maybe you should get lost.” Heartlessly, you began to close the door on him, now fully inside the spacey room that was bare save for a luxurious bed and some basic, modern furniture. “Hn?” A soft gasp left your throat when a polished shoe wedged itself inside the door, stopping you. You looked up, your body filling the crack in the door, and met Nagito’s eyes. There was that far away look again. His eyes were cloudy, tameless, wild.

     “Why must you be so harsh?” His eyes bore into your own now, all inflection and kindness gone from his tone. “I understand you must hate my kind, and now I can appreciate why you reacted so aversely to my voice, my touch, my presence before, but have I done anything to harm you?” You were beginning to get scared now, reaching instinctively for your belt and finding it absent from your pristine uniform.

     “I think you should leave. We obviously aren’t meant to be acquaintances.” You refused to let your voice shake. This might be a turning point, a critical moment. Vampires were never so dangerous as when they knew their prey was afraid.

     “It’s your turn to answer me, now~” Nagito forced himself in the doorway nonchalantly, approaching your slowly retreating form into the middle of your room. You backed away, with him meeting every step.

     “If you must know, you have offended me, yes. Trying to read my mind-”

     “An accident.”

     “Stealing my phone-”

     “A precaution.”

     “Smelling my blood like a pervert, twice!” He smirked.

     “A natural, harmless instinct.” 

     “Even so...” Your eyes were on his own, obviously not focused on his body, and he took this opportunity to reach down, grasping lightly at your hand once again.

     “Even so, what? Those are all petty misunderstandings. Ahhh~” his cold, pointed nose skimmed across the back of your hand once again as he brought it to his face. This time, when you tried to pull away, he held fast, and warning signals flashed in your mind. “Just as I thought! Your scent appeals to me so because you are a shining beacon of hope! I see it now! It’s all coming to me! You protect the world from those of my kind who would seek to destroy it! How wonderful!” His cheek bumped across your knuckles, and you failed once again to pull away.

     “N-Nagito. Stop. This is.... you must consider context. If we weren’t in school right now, if we were just on the street meeting like this-”

     “You wouldn’t do anything~ because I’m allied and protected~” He sung, his eyes twitching again, lids fluttering softly. Your heart dropped into your stomach. He was right. 

     You were trying to resist, but he was making it so damn hard. It shouldn’t be this hard. You found supernatural beings repulsive. Your father did as well. And his father did! They weren’t trustworthy. Their words were always the lies of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. They could charm and glamour weaker mortals with ease and enjoyed it! And you certainly were not a weaker mortal! You found joy in killing them... didn’t you?

     “What you’re doing now is-”

     “It’s strange, hah~ so strange~ I haven’t felt this inspired, this jittery about a mortal in such a long time... haha~ this excitement! I knew it! I knew you were special! You’re the true hope I’ve been looking for! The Ultimate of all Ultimates that will guide our classmates into their roles as the protectors and leaders that will inherit this earth!” He was manic now, inhaling deeply, raggedly onto your skin. One hand crushed your wrist into his own chest, the other held your hand so that it stayed splayed out flat for his access. There was something primal in his eyes. He was quickly becoming unstable. It was a perilous state so common to his kind, but yet it felt still so incredibly unique to Nagito himself, like it was not his immortality but his own character that caused this sudden shift in behavior.

     “Nagito! You sound like a lunatic! Let go, you’re hurting me!” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. You were strong, usually able to ignore some measure of physical pain, but the way his fingers dug into your wrist coupled with the consternation you felt at the situation set your nerves aflame. Once again you reached instinctively for a weapon or poison you did not have.

     “Am I? I’m sorry. It’s just... I wonder...” You didn’t like where this was going at all. His chest shook with arousal , a bit of drool dripping from the fangs now on display in his mouth, which hung open in his state of reverie. “I wonder what this this hope tastes like... this pure, concentrated source of unbridled hope!” His voice shook, and you pushed at his chest with your free hand. He didn’t budge an inch. It was like he didn’t even notice your actions. “I know I’m unworthy, that a piece of trash like me doesn’t deserve to taste you... but I feel like now that I’m this close, haha~ I can’t stop myself! Truly, truly it’s a grand misfortune that a talentless, meaningless, soulless abomination like myself even dares to take part in such a feast! But...” He lowered his lips to your wrist.

     “Nagito, stop! You can’t do this!” You began to kick and struggle, to scratch and tear at his clothes, to claw at any exposed skin, leaving marks across his cheek and arms. “If you do this, you’ll lose your protection!” His top lip pulled back, something like a snarl emanating from his throat. Clearly that approach wouldn’t work. “You’ll be expelled!” You tried the next deterrent on your mind. Wow, you must’ve been the worst Super High-School Level Monster Hunter in history. Day 1: fooled into a vampire’s clutches. His inhumanely sharp canines grazed the skin of your wrist, feeling your pulse race beneath the surface. He was entranced; there was no stopping this now. A human, without weapons, without enchantments or defenses, without repellants, bombs, herbs, poisons, silver, or means of healing, was no match for a supernatural being. “Please! Please, you- don’t do this!” a last effort. Why did you even try? These savages never sympathized with begging and pleading. They were killers. You were an imbecile to let your guard down around Komaeda for even a second.

     His fangs sunk deeply into your skin, piercing a vein. You yelped out in pain, pulling at his hair and tugging your wrist back, which only nestled his fangs in deeper. You whimpered, little rivulets of your vital fluid running out of his mouth and down to your elbow. He was moaning in delirium, enraptured in the sensation of your blood running down his throat. You wanted to yell, to scream for help, but something inside you was hesitant and holding you back. Something inside you didn’t want anyone to find out about this, to find you two like this.

     “Mmmh~” Nagito’s tongue swirled around the puncture wounds, his lips latched on like a leech. He drank freely, deeply, seemingly careless of how much blood he was taking. It’d been a long time since he’d felt the exhilaration of feeding from true prey. These days they had him on willing donors and blood bags. Nothing compared to the flavor of adrenaline and fear in the bloodstream, no matter how much he hated himself for indulging in it.

     “Naaagi-t-” You stumbled backwards a step, wishing so desperately that you weren’t such an obedient student, that you’d deemed it justified to slip a stake, a knife, anything under your shirt. Your punches, your willful attacks on his abdomen, and the kicks to his knees began to slow down. They were losing the fight behind them, and yet, you would not give up. “St-tt-oo-” He continued to slurp and suck at your wrist, taking no note of the way you slowly were slipping to your knees. 

     The corners of your vision began to cloud and darken. Your head was ringing, much like a time you’d been left concussed after one of your first hunts. This might as well have been one of your first encounters with the supernatural world, with how badly you’d blundered every step.

     Now on your knees, your head hanging limply down into your chest with your arm raised and pulled taut, trailing up to the vampire’s mouth, you felt yourself slipping. Finally, your vision began to fade for the last time, and you fell unconscious. The last thing your mind registered was the sound of Nagito sighing blissfully as he finally detached from your flesh, followed by the sound of frenzied laughter.

[whumpeeblog]

TW: Slavery, Torture Mention, Death Mention, Pain, etc.

K, away on a decently long journey with A, chose to let N look after his estate and slaves for a period.

S shivered in her cell, sore from a recent beating. The vase had crashed with a menacing promise of punishment. But it had been an accident. Not only had the whip sliced her back, but the blades of knives and the threatening chokes of torture had harmed her feeble body. Weakened from the pain, S’s brain played pranks of mirages and lethargic daydreams.

Footsteps outside her cell. No. Please no. She had been certain that K was on a journey and she just wanted to be left to suffer alone. Perhaps it was a trick and now he would torture her again. Jingling keys toyed with the brass lock, and flickering light, too bright compared to the heavy darkness, crept into the cell.

K had instructed N, a close friend and distant relative, as to what each individual slave and prisoner would get for meals and work, as well as for torture. Burning hatred of cruelty towards any living creature stabbed at his heart. K had demanded the torture and work of the wretch in this cell, however, and he had to follow orders.

K had assumed S was too mangled to be recognized, and she knew the rules of speaking out of turn. N would never know it was her. He hadn’t seen her in nearly three years, and her rebellious spirit ran much more wild then.

Soft light dripped onto the figure shaking like a leaf in the corner of her cell. She was unrecognizable to him, just another slave. K had destroyed her, breaking her into something she was never meant to be.

N stepped into the cell, keys ringing in his fingers and a lit torch in the other. He set the flaming stick into a holder in the wall, then took another step. With each thump of his leather boots against the floor, the pain filled whimpers and sobs of the captive grew more desperate.

N crouched closer, and the girl sunk herself further into the wall, gritting her teeth to keep from crying out in pain.

Hardly a face, covered in bruises and crimson gashes, hung towards the floor. A mangled, broken body melted its way into the stone walls behind it. Muffled wails quietly rung in the dungeon.

N knelt towards the girl, preparing to lift her off of the floor. As his lean figure came nearer, S’s whimpers became more and more horrified.

S’s heart ached to scream for mercy, but there were punishments for that. She remained as silent as possible while failing to hide her trembling tears.

N’s kind heart stung for the child on the floor, her form crushed and shattered by her master. The last thing N wished was to hurt this poor creature, and the last thing she wanted was for him to touch her.

Gentle fingers softly caressed the abused face, feeling the pale skin shiver in fear beneath them.

“Look at me,” N whispered. Something about this prisoner was familiar.

S’s ivy eyes rose hesitantly, but the moment they struck N, his own eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

Those eyes were familiar. He had seen the tortured face many times before, but... it wasn’t possible. K had murdered her years ago. She had been tortured, then her head cut off, or at least, that’s what everyone had been led to believe. Couldn’t be. She was dead.

Dew drops clung to the long lashes that framed the eyes staring into his soul.

“S?”

The syllables startled the wretch and she grimaced and pinned herself even harder against the wall. All she wished was to hide away, to be ignored.

N’s soul broke with the realization that she didn’t remember him just yet. This had to be her, and he couldn’t hurt her, no matter what K threatened.

“Child, I’m not going to hurt you.” N cautiously brushed through her matted hair with his fingers in an attempt to gain trust.

S gradually recognized the man. N. The last time she had seen him failed to reappear in her mind. Perhaps he had changed. Surely this was a trap. Either way, K would return and N would give him a report on her, so she best remember her place.

Chains rattled as N removed the rusty collar tethering S to the wall. The chains connecting her ankles dropped. Tears fell throughout the entire process and she internally begged N not to hurt her.

She must obey him, and prove that she was a good slave, to avoid more pain. He couldn’t possibly be the same N who saved her life five years ago, or the same man who convinced D not to hurt her countless times.

A soft jolt singed S’s cut covered body, and whines escaped her as N lifted her body into his arms. Even his soft skin sent agonizing torment through her when he touched any of her wounds.

“Shh..” N cooed, almost fooling the girl with his gentle tone and soft eyes.

Whatever he was going to do to her, it would end in pain. He was just like K now, S was sure of it. K had been soft with her at times too, but he always seemed to run back to the realization of what a lowly wretch she was. She deserved the pain. She would beg for punishment, then perhaps N would tell K what a good prisoner she had been.

Although N attempted his best to lightly carry the girl, each step threw painful pressure on S’s injuries. She groaned. Groans transformed into sobs.

N couldn’t handle seeing the child in such torment. He set her down against a wall, then used his knowledge of the human body to provoke a pressure point, sending S into unconsciousness.

Unfamiliar sheets burned against bloodied skin as S shifted in her ending sleep. Eyes flushed open in shock. Green pupils stared into the crinkling brown ones above her, almost immediately shifting back down.

Oh god I made eye contact. I should ask for punishment. If I do, he won’t tell K and he’ll know I didn’t mean to. But if I talk, he’ll punish me.

The grieving child flinched in preparation for the sting that never came. Her skin jolted when tender fingers dragged themselves through her damp- wait damp?

Puzzled, S’s hand shakily lifted to slip through her slick roots. Had he- bathed her? Surely he must know she didn’t deserve such generosity. The sore wounds had been wrapped and cleansed as well. This tactic was familiar to her. He would show her mock kindness, healing her wounds, only to torture her again when her body was strong enough.

What if K hadn’t actually left, and he had simply sold her? This was a different castle after all... actually... she knew this place. D’s castle. These walls had distanced themselves for three years. And now she was back. The memory of her first visit haunted her. Her body flung to the floor. Her defiant screams of fear and pain. Before K broke her. Before she became what she was meant to be.

N’s words interrupted her thoughts.

“How are we feeling, lass?”

“Better, Master. Thank you. I don’t deserve your kindness.” The raspy voice barely croaked.

His tone tricked S into almost believing he wasn’t angry for the unwanted eye contact. Surely she wouldn’t remain unpunished.

“Dinna think ye were still alive after all these years. K w’d have us believe he’d tortured ya and killed ye. I can see he’s had his fair share of fun wit ya, hasn’t he?”

N’s velvet voice calmed S and she nodded, a saltwater drop searing a gash on her cheek. N’s hand drove towards her face, and his thumb wiped her tears as his palm cupped her trembling cheek.

“Hush, darling.”

“I’m sorry, Master. Forgive me. It’s not my place to cry.”

“No, no, you’re alright,” N cooed.

“I should be punished, sir. Please. I shouldn’t have cried before and I shouldn’t now. Please discipline me and teach me my place,” S’s whines for authority grew frantic. She had to be taught. If she wasn’t, she would forget what she was. They would have to break her all over again.

“No, love. Hush now.”

N grappled a chilly wet cloth. Frosty shudders danced through S when N dabbed her forehead with the rag. Her voice broke into a moaning tremor. All she wanted was to be punished. Sparing the pain now would create more torture later. Disdain blended with agony laced her high pitched whimpers when N’s soft hand guided the cloth against her face.

“I’ll make us supper. What’d ya like, lass?”

Utter confusion clogged S’s brain. He couldn’t have just asked her that. It must be a trap. She wasn’t allowed to eat unless specifically ordered to, hence the ribs that popped out with every intake of breath. She was merely a skeleton, hidden beneath a paper thin blanket of marred skin. S’s stomach was only given barely enough sustenance to pump her heart for a bit longer each day.

The few times that she had attempted to sneak food, S had been punished mercilessly, then given the opportunity to eat as a test of obedience. This must be another quiz of compliance. Although the punches of starvation beat her insides, S understood that the pain resulting from gluttony would be much worse.

Her new master’s patient gaze saturated her with concern.

“What do you want to eat, girl?”

“I’m ok, Master. I don’t eat a lot.”

That’s it. Perhaps he was testing her to see how much she required to continue breathing. If she showed she didn’t eat a lot or need much to survive, he would let her live. If she didn’t take much from him, he would keep her alive and let her serve him.

N stared through her pale body sorrowfully, a pang of guilt and pity trampling him like the wheels of a speeding train. The poor child. Someone had to help her. What had K done to her? What had become of his little lass? Where was the defiant young child who would have fought tirelessly for her innocent life? Was she dead, or was she simply hiding behind a submissive mask of the years of torture she had been subjected to? Patience for K was thinning. S belonged to him though. There was nothing to be done except show mercy to the captive while she was under his care.

K had ordered her torture when she was healed enough. N refused. Even if he did antagonize her, who knew how long her frail body could handle it?

“Come along, lass,” N softly demanded, whispering so as not to startle the girl. He gently settled his arm around S’s back, and she whimpered when his skin brushed against her freshly bandaged tissue. His strength assisted in hoisting her body upright, then he placed out both of his arms for S to use as leverage.

The hint wasn’t immediately taken.

“Place your hands on my forearms.”

Finally, an instruction. S’s sliced wrists snaked onto N’s tan arms, and with a groan, she lifted herself to stand.

“Go wait in the kitchen for me.”

S lowered her head and obeyed the order, limping out the door and down the halls. As she leaned against the walls for support, her delirious brain began to recognize the place. She had not seen these walls in forever, but they remained the same as they were two years ago. Her suffering body hobbled past K’s old suite, as well as D’s, and the years of torment came thrashing back. Pushing the tears in her mind aside, S slowly tripped down the stairs and into the main kitchen. The layout was similar, if not almost identical, to the entertainment, living, and kitchen area of K’s home.

Rather than hop towards the fridge and pick out a meal, S launched herself to her knees, and waited, head down and body prepared for any punishment or mere entertainment N wanted. The impending footsteps thumped down the staircase.

“What’re ye doing?” N’s bewilderment intertwined into his tone. “Git yerself up off da floor.”

S clamored to stand as tall as her crackling spine would allow her, but a slight slump in her body bent her like a weathered tree. Her right hand crossed in front of her to grasp her left wrist, a sign of submission and preparedness to be bound, if her master saw fit. Her head sank. She was do careful not to look her superiors in the eye. If she proved she was a good slave, maybe N would let her live, or at least make her death quick and painless.

Whether N’s intentions were to execute or torture S hid themselves. She had skimmed kindness and humaneness in his amber gaze, but she had witnessed the same thing from K before. He had shown her leniency many times, and she had even seen a tear shed once or twice, but he always ended up afflicting her again. She couldn’t trust those eyes, regardless of how promising and honest they seemed. Proving her worth would save her life, so she thought. She was a terrible slave. A wretch. An enemy who had been shown mercy. She deserved whatever awaited her in the dungeons; whatever waited behind N’s reassuring hand.