#it would be his own great grandson that would find out how to do it again

[fatedroses]

I woke up in the middle of the night yesterday just to get the sketch for this down and I've finally finished it today

He will still tidal wave with no warning and no apology v-v

[two-white-butterflies]

three great men and death | daemon targaryen

Description: You were the object of his ire - the foreigner who stole his position as hand. Hate and love are parallel lines. Daemon finds himself running to you after his failed marriages and exiles.

Pairing: the hand! reader/daemon targaryen

Word Count: 3k+ did not bother to check after it passed 3k

A/N: Enemies to lovers. Reader is crazier than Daemon.

There have been stories about his brother's new hand. A great beauty that came from Lys and managed to earn the King's trust. You tell everyone that your purpose as Hand is for the betterment of Westeros, but Daemon does not believe that - how could a foreigner want good for a land she did not come from?

"Power is a curious thing, my lord. Are you fond of riddles?" you inquired, walking past the roses and peonies. "Why? Am I about to hear one?" he asked. His eyes narrowed slightly.

He has slithered his way into your company, seeking to understand you better. He needed to know your purpose; and the best way to undermine the enemy was to pretend to be their ally.

"Three great men sit in a room, a king, a priest and a rich man. Between them stands a common sellsword. Each great man bids the sellsword kill the other two. Who dies?" you inquired, carefully watching him from your periphery.

You did not succeed by being stupid and trusting. You knew what kind of game he was playing at and it would be best to quench this little rebellion of his before it began. "Depends on the sellsword." he surmises, staring at your face and awaiting a reaction.

"Does it? He's not the crown, no gold, no favor with the gods." you continued toying with him. "He has a sword, the power of life and death." Daemon argued, hidden meaning in his tone.

He's telling you that he wields the sword.

"But if it is the swordsman who rules, why do we pretend that kings hold all the power?" the sides of your lips turned upwards. His eyes twinkle slightly, but it loses its glow the moment he opens his mouth.

"I have decided that I do not enjoy your riddles, lady hand." Daemon turned to look at you, escorting you deeper into the garden.

"What I next say is not a riddle." you breathed, cleverly waiting until his eyebrows merge together. "What is it?" he humored.

The facade breaks, your smile dissapears as quickly as it came.

"There have been rumors of you and the Princess. I understand that you aim to slander the Crown's good name - mayhaps even take Rhaenyra to wife as you've already taken her maidenhead." you say.

"- but I want you to understand that the plan is stupid, and that King Viserys plans to throw you back into Lady Royce's arms." you informed, pretending that you were truly concerned about his wellbeing. Daemon's breath stills.

There was no one around you in the gardens. Not a single soul that was able to hear about the ordeal. "Lady hand." he began, his hands circling around your neck, threatening to choke the life out of you.

"I know the truth, that you did take Rhaenyra's maidenhead. But I will not tell your brother if you agree to my proposal." you held his hand, attempting to pry it away from your neck, but his grip tightens.

"Speak." he commanded, his fiery purple eyes glaring daggers upon your own.

"What I offer is a transactional relationship. I keep my silence, and defend you against any accusation, but you must be on my side." you insisted, that twinkle returns in his eyes. Gods, he was unpredictable.

"Against who?" he interrogated.

"Ser Otto. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. He wishes to rid me of this post. He wishes to make his grandson heir. I am the only one standing between the family that you love, and a war." you breathed.

He frees you from his grasp. A strange smile on his face.

"You prove yourself useful, lady hand." he complimented, before abandoning you in front of the Weirwood Tree.

He lays cooly on his bed, watching as you entered his chambers with a hood hiding your face. "I have brought the evidence that you begged for." you informed, throwing a compilation of letters on his bed. "I did not beg for anything, lady hand." he rolled his eyes.

But he still reads the letters that you've presented him.

"These are compilations of Ser Otto's letters to his brother. Clear proof of his plans to supplant your niece." you explained in simpler terms, maintaining the distance between you, in case he think of something else.

You've been allies for half a year now. You've grown to understand that Daemon was the type of man who allowed his emotions to rule over rational thought. His lack of control gave you the upper hand.

"He wants Aegon as King, and by extension, he wants to be King." you continued, seeing his eyebrows merge together in intrigue. "What should we do? Should we tell Viserys?" he asked.

Daemon already had a plan of action in mind - to kill Ser Otto. But that wasn't the smartest course of action. Your plan was inevitably going to end up better than his.

"Ser Otto is the Queen's father. Viserys has always allowed mercy to persevere throughout his rule. Ser Otto will not be punished. He'll be exiled and in a few years, he will be back for revenge. I say that we keep the evidence and wait for the perfect time to use it against him." you strongly advised.

Daemon smiles at you - a real smile, this time.

He pats the empty side on his bed.

You sigh, but you sit beside him anyways.

"I wish to marry Princess Rhaenyra. I need you to think of a plan that will use this to get what I want." he tells you, pointing at the letters.

A loud chuckle escapes your mouth.

"We have a transactional relationship, my prince. I have given you something and you've not given me anything in return." you scoff.

He tilts his head. "If I kill my lady wife, Viserys might give you the Runestone. It would be killing two birds with one stone." he pondered, smiling to himself as his words rhymed.

"Lady Rhea Royce has cousins." you reminded him.

"Her cousin is sworn to the Kingsguard. The rest of the cousins, you tell me have collectively committed a grave crime that could send them in servitude at the Wall." he schemes.

He casts you a look.

"I will threaten them with a letter, and I know them best - they will flee like a feather on top of a bouncing mattress. This is your path to legitimacy, lady hand - a chance to have a title." he continues.

"Viserys will never allow me to have lands and titles of my own." you looked away from him. A woman from Lys, inheriting a great castle. "The King has always granted your petitions. He treats you like his own daughter. He will give you the Runestone. It is between you and me." he says with certainty.

He takes a deep breath, reaching for his robes on the chair.

He stands up.

"Where are you going?" you inquired.

"To do exactly what I've told you." he rolled his eyes, lifting his grey hood until it was over his head.

Prince Daemon Targaryen was going to be the death of you.

There was a stinging feeling in your heart. Were you cruel for not telling him about the engagement between Laenor and Rhaenyra? It wasn't like you wanted him to remain in the dark about it - but the idea of him marrying his niece brought shivers down your spine.

It felt wrong.

"It behooves me how half of House Royce flees the very second Lady Rhea is murdered. Do you have any idea why that is?" King Viserys asks you while pouring himself a cup of tea.

"They must've murdered her, my king. Why else?" your eyebrows merge together, a line that you've rehearsed a million times in front of the mirror. It was wrong to lie. There was a time in your life where you were pure, unable to lie, but those days were gone now.

You've given this world pieces of your beliefs until none remained the same. This was the law of life - you reminded yourself. There were only two types of people, the preys and the predator. The ones taking and the ones getting took. It wasn't fair, but life was never fair.

"There has been a vacancy in the Runestone. You've been loyal to the crown and to the people of this kingdom, and thus, I wish to endorse you in claiming the Runestone." he says with kindness in his tone.

Your eyes lit up.

You didn't even have to ask him for it.

"I've always admired your dedication. All the sleepless nights that you offered to ensure that my nights would be filled of sleep. There is not that many years in front of me, and before I pass - I wish to repay your dedication and loyalty." he finished.

You force a smile on your face.

"Thank you, your grace. I promise to protect Rhaenyra and if she ever offers me a seat in her council in the future, I wish to offer her the same dedication and loyalty." you thanked.

A genuine chuckle escapes your mouth as you continued dancing with Ser Harwin Strong. There was a certain tranquility in his features. He brought you peace, made you remember a kinder version of yourself.

"You are beautiful, my lady." he complimented you.

There have been hundreds of men that have called you exactly that. There was always lust behind their eyes, but Harwin was different - his eyes had the same twinkle as Daemon's. He looked like he was telling you the truth - that he admired you too.

"I assume that those sentiments have been provided to numerous other maidens in this court, but I still am thankful that you find me thus." you danced to the music, staring deep into his eyes.

You were aware of Daemon's gaze upon your figures. You couldn't understand why he was looking at you - and not Rhaenyra. The wedding has not been conducted yet - he should steal her, marry her.

"I've not told anyone that before. Only you." he insisted.

You could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth.

"Of course, my lord." you smiled cheekily.

"You fancy my lady hand?" Viserys leaned over so that his brother was able to hear his voice. Daemon rolls his eyes. "Her?" he scoffs. "She is a clever and sly little thing. Sometimes, I find myself agreeing with whatever proposal she brings forth - I do not know the purpose but I know that it is for the betterment of the realm." Viserys admits.

Daemon glances at his brother.

You were dancing circles around them.

"If I had a son around her age, I would've wed him to her. She is a lowborn girl, but she knows our highborn games." Viserys says.

There were times where Daemon thought about the feel of your skin. How your voice would sound in the early morning. He wonders if your palms were warm enough to soothe his freezing ones. But alas, those are thoughts that he keeps to himself, because he cannot make the mistake of falling in love with you.

He knows that he is incapable of loving a woman like you. Because you are too good for him, too much like him. He craves his brother's attention and he fears that once he has you - he'll abandon his purpose. He fears that when he realizes that you are all he wants, he'll be content and happy.

He's not ready for a time like that yet.

He is still standing on the threshold, unable to cross the line.

"There are leeches on your throne. The lady hand is loyal to Rhaenyra. It would be wise to keep her." Daemon advised, before standing up and making his way into the dance.

He's not failed to observe you dancing with Ser Harwin. He intends to have a little fun of his own.

He smiles at Lady Laena.

"You are almost as beautiful as your brother." he teased.

Daemon, always so busy in catching up with the dance - too late to realize that it was an illusion, and that there's no where to cling on to.

He found peace shortly after that.

He married Lady Laena and you married Ser Harwin Strong. Thousands of miles away, yet your lives still mirrored each other. He could not speak on your behalf, but he knew that Laena was good for him - she was kind and sweet.

She did not care about the highborn games in Kingslanding. All she wanted was a warm home with little children running along the halls. "How is the babe?" he inquired, placing a hand on top of her swollen stomach. It was their third child.

"They are well, but they miss home." she replied, sitting beside him on the bench. "When will we return to Westeros? I miss Driftmark." she admitted, resting her head on Daemon's shoulders.

Daemon couldn't find it in himself to return home. He loved Laena, but he knows that it would ruin him to see you. With Rhaenyra it was different - their love made itself known, but with you? You both drifted away from each other before that love could release itself.

He fears that seeing you would make him admit that something has been indeed missing.

"Rhaenyra has given birth to another baby boy named Joffrey. And your brother tells me that your old friend, the lady hand, has given birth to her second child with Ser Harwin. A little babe named Duncan." Laena continued, hoping that it would sway her husband into returning.

"We should offer our condolences too." Laena paused.

"- is the babe dead?" Daemon inquired, his wife shakes her head.

"There was a fire in Harrenhal. Ser Harwin died with Ser Lyonel." Laena informed. "What?" Daemon's eyes narrowed.

Before Laena could answer his question, there was a stinging sensation in her stomach, telling her that the babe was to come. "The babe is coming, Daemon." she breathed sharply.

Daemon stares coldly as his wife's body is lowered into the ocean. Consumed by the fire of her own dragon. "I offer my condolences, your daughters look exactly like Laena. My children look like Harwin too and it has been a great pain." you admit, sitting beside him.

He continues looking at the horizon. Unwilling to look at you in fear that his resolve would fade. "How is life, Daemon?" you asked.

"It could be better." he admits. "- and how is your life, lady hand?" he asked in an amused tone. Though, he still refused to meet your eyes.

"My oldest daughter is betroth to Prince Jacaerys. Believe that whatever transaction we did or did not have is ancient history." you cleverly reminded him, while also hinting that your loyalties shift like the tides.

"You wish your daughter be Queen?" he asks plainly.

Your shared language of being blunt with each other not forgotten by time. "I wish our kingdom be safe." you corrected.

"Of course." he exhales.

"Goodbye, Daemon." you place a hand on his shoulder.

He find himself involuntarily looking at you.

The sight of you takes him off guard.

Nothing has indeed changed.

It was a year later when he saw you again. He visited Kingslanding with both of his daughter, for his ill brother.

"My king, you have visitors. Prince Daemon and his daughters, Baela and Rhaena." you announced, allowing the small family to enter Viserys' chambers.

"Brother," Viserys says weakly.

"It has been far too long." Daemon smiles, sitting on Viserys' bedside.

Daemon sits beside you on the bench. Time did not leave an indent on your features, still as beautiful as the day he left. "I never told you but I enjoyed your riddles." he admitted.

You respond with a chuckle.

"Time hath given me the answers to some, but there is one riddle that remains in my mind. Three Great Men." he says, still remembering the story from long ago. "Who dies?" he inquired.

Your past comes back to you. Memories in all of its color.

"I don't know the answer but I know that all men must die." you repeated the answer that you observed from decades back.

"- once the dust settles, and the sellsword swings his sword, someone will want revenge. The sellsword will certainly have his head on a spike soon after, for killing the king, the priest, or the rich man. I've always reminded you and Viserys that I am lowborn - and despite having land and marrying a highborn man, I am still. The highborn schemes are costly, and only benefit a single person. I do not know who lives, but I know who dies. The sellsword. The people." you answered.

"I wanted to leave my post the moment King Viserys gave me Lady Rhea's land, but I remained because I feared that Ser Otto would scheme to have Aegon on the throne. Scheme of war." you reminded.

There were many things that you did for your own benefit, but this wasn't one of them.

"- and the smallfolk are the ones who pay heavily. I thought about a little girl in the slums of Flea Bottom, with ambitions and intelligence greater than any highborn lord. The only difference was, she was born there and you were born here." you continued.

Daemon takes a casual sip of his ale.

"How long has it been since you've last step foot inside of a tavern?" he teased with a small chuckle. "I've only ever gone with you." you smiled, leaning on the chair and soaking in the warm ambiance of the place. Gods, you were the only woman here. How sad.

"Do you ever think about an alternative future? If we'd been the ones married?" you suddenly inquired, allowing the alcohol to speak in your behalf. "What do you mean by that?" he asks, eyebrows merging together and suddenly transported to a past before the fall.

"We were amazing, gods. We had the entire kingdom wrapped around our fingers. Viserys offered an engagement between us, and I declined him because I knew how much you loved Rhaenyra. But seeing that you're not married to her, still, makes me believe that what you felt for her was nothing but limerence." you surmised.

Able to read him like an open book.

"I loved Laena, and I love our daughters." he says, knowing that he wouldn't have it any other way. "I loved Harwin too, he was one of the few men that made me abandon rational thought." you reply, agreeing with him that you wouldn't have it any other way too.

"- but gods, I did burn for you." you added with a chuckle. You take another sip of your ale. "I thought that if we were together, then there was nothing in this world that could be out of reach." you hummed.

Daemon Targaryen was standing at the threshold and he finally has the courage to cross the line. "I did love you. I still love you." he corrected himself. Your head turns in his direction, shocked at his sudden confession.

"There were nights where I'd think about your beauty, the feel of your skin, your voice. But I kept those thoughts to myself, because you would never indulge yourself in me. I knew how dangerous I was. How much I craved my brother's approval. I didn't want it to ruin you. I didn't want you to turn against me." he admits in a low tone, careful not to be heard by anyone.

"I figured that I could only love you from afar, because if you truly knew me then I would drive you away. Time has made me realized that I am not as awful as I believe myself to be." he smiles, but before he could get another word in - your lips were on his.

Finally ready to be together.

It only took more than a decade.

[magesforthedas]

Hearing Lucanis talk about why the Crows aren't active in Fereldan anymore, that "House Arainai embarrassed itself so badly", I don't know if that's necessarily talking about Zevran. Some people have speculated on why the Crows are so different in this game. Lucanis says they can be picky with contracts. We find a memento, Contract: The Next Blight, which is from the Fourth Blight; meaning the Crows should have been helping with the Fifth Blight anyways. Maybe the embarrassment the House suffered wasn't Zevran's failure to kill the HoF, but moreso that House Arainai accepted a contract for the HoF, whom they would have been obligated to aid. I might be misremembering, but I feel like I got the impression that Zevran was told to take the contract because of other Crows? Like they sent him to do it, after his last mission, to "prove himself"? It's been a while... But we know afterwards if he's alive, Zevran goes to take down the Crows; he may be focusing on the Arainai House, which would also explain the "embarrassment" of them going through six Eighth Talons. That they were then brought down by one of their "failures". Or if he dies, one of the other Houses might take that responsibility, to clean out the more corrupt Crows.

Feel free to add your thoughts 🤔

EDIT: Ahhhh okay I have to add to this now, thank you so much for the hashtags and replies (and Zevran lovers!) because I'm thinking of all these things I forgot to say AND other things that have occurred (and that I looked up bc I had to go down the rabbit hole):

-Zevran decided to take the contract on the HoF. Now, corruption and politics already play into that. Rinna, Zevran, and Taliesin worked together, and were involved. Rinna was a bastard child, and joined a group intending to put her forward as an heir. A different prince, not her father, heard of this and struck a deal with Master Eoman Arainai: in exchange for having her killed, House Arainai would gain Eighth Talon and Eoman would be a Grandmaster. Zevran didn't know that whole story. He knows Taliesan convinced him to kill her, later found out she was innocent, the master knew this and he felt it was a way for them to show him his place of insignificance. So, he took the contract against the HoF, intending to die.

-Contract: The Next Blight says it was taken out after the FOURTH Blight, that the wardens had treaties with Kings, Queens, and Crows. Now considering how seriously the Crows take their contracts, you would think once they heard about the Wardens and the Blight (which they must've, they're spies) that they should have jumped to help. "A Crow always completes their contract". But did they send help? No, in fact they allowed one of their own to go directly against it.

-Zevran, by taking the contract and WHETHER OR NOT he lived, highlighted for the world (and most importantly to them, the other Crows) to see that the Crows had not changed for the better over the years, becoming more and more wrapped in politics and status. "House Arainai is an embarrassment" because of the contract on the HoF, NOT because he failed, but because he showed them how much of an embarrassment the Crows as a whole had become. It would be easy to point fingers and say it was all that one House, and I'm sure then they had to "save face" and send assassins after him if he lived. But whether it was Zevran or another Crow, how far they had fallen had become clear.

-When I say reformed... Whichever Crow started cleaning house 20 years ago obviously didn't change the entire organization. There's a lot of bad stuff, starting in how people like Zevran, and then Lucanis are trained. Catarina would fall in that older group that would cling to the "old" cruel ways of the Crows. But as Lucanis grew into it, as Catarina found herself acknowledging her love for her grandson, as people like Jacobus were being trained (and it could still definitely be Not Great™ , but it seems to me like there's been some possible improvement), and people like Viago and Teiea gained more power, perhaps things have started to shift. There's always been some good, among the bad, among the death, in the Crows. Contracts on murderers, tyrants, slave owners. Their pride and loyalty, to a contract if not each other.

-and THEN to top it off, the Antaam invade and the world goes to shit a bit more. That would cause the Crows to pull together even more internally, so combining the 20 years of change from Origins, and the World-Ending circumstances, I think that could pretty well explain the vast difference in dynamic seen in DAV

-Also, when people, like Lucanis, say "Embarrassment of House Arainai" , they could totally, 100% be talking about Zevran... But does that change anything else? If Zevran lives, he goes on to kill enough people to enact change. If he dies... Someone else sees what happened and enacts that change instead. That's my theory anyways!

I may have forgotten some thoughts still, but... Long story short, maybe it's me, but I would fully stand by the statement that Zevran is, if to a bigger or smaller degree dependant on his survival, directly responsible for the fact that the Crows were a reasonable enough and good-aligned-enough group that they were as helpful in DAV as they were. And that I do think there is a reasonable explanation for how the Crows present, even with it being so different from previous games. Thank you Zevran ☺️

[emil1863]

More for the au!

The basics, Gods, Demigods, Devil Fruits, all exist.

World Gov + Marines try and keep the whole concept of gods and demigods under wraps. Because I'm working with "D's" carry divinity. And having a good chunk of them outright despise the government isn't a great look.

Luffy is a god while Garp and Dragon are demigods. Luffy can shift between physical and 'divine' form whereas demigods don't have that ability.

Luffy is the successor/inheritor of his predecessor's will and own divinity. But not through reincarnation necessarily. One in the same but they are very much so different. His devil fruit and promise to Shanks cemented his place as the successor to the sun and freedom. When gods and demigods start out, there isn't a wholly set future for what will they will have, or the ideals they will embody. Luffy has always had his cloudy/intangible form.

Imagine Garp's surprise when his grandson, who was supposed to join him in the marines, is set to embody freedom and the sun. He was pissed for a solid week about that. Garp also had to deal with questioning where Dragon had even gotten Luffy from, he still doesn't know.

Ace and Sabo were very adamant that Luffy not show off his divine form to everyone, especially if he wanted to become a pirate. He can't be a pirate if the government tracks him down and hides him away at the ripe age of like, 8. Also because having a full god is pretty uncommon, Sabo has heard horror story after horror story of what nobles and those in higher society would do to a god. Sabo is the most vocal about Luffy being careful about that.

Luffy meets Koby, and does an absolutely terrible job at keeping his form hidden. It's harder to control which form he's in when he's excited. Koby was a human with no divinity and big dreams that Luffy adored. So, already excited with a new friend, and the two on their way to Shells town, Luffy sneezed and immediately sold himself out. Koby is a terrible liar and so just elects to never speak on this topic ever. If anyone asks why he has so much knowledge on gods, specifically sun gods, he just doesn't answer. Helmeppo thinks it's funny and immediately pieced together why, because Koby cannot keep anything from him. And Garp has to respect how hard that kid is trying to not completely sell out his grandson, even if the brat kind of deserves it for being a pirate.

Luffy is going to be the Pirate King, divine or not. His crew quickly find out about his side quirk/form in varying ways. Zoro woke up one day with a cloudy demon from hell cutting off his airways. Nami was trying to explain clouds to Luffy and that 'no, they cannot just spawn on your person, that's stupid,' and so Luffy shows her that he is in fact, correct.

Usopp got jumpscared early in the morning, before the sun had risen, when Luffy just appeared behind him and asked if he wanted to watch the sunrise. Sanji was cooking dinner and Luffy got so excited he phased out of his physical body.

Chopper found out while asking Luffy if he had any medical conditions he should know about, he thought it was kinda cool that Luffy can change forms. And is only a little jealous that Luffy has a fully human form. Luffy always makes sure to tell Chopper he's exactly who he needs to be.

Robin found out after talking about 'Nika,' who is thought to be long dead, but is not. And is the captain of the crew she is now apart of. Luffy knows the name is important and it has a certain weight when it's said. He physically feels when someone says his name around him. Robin thinks this is very fascinating. (Also can add some context into poneglyphs, that there is a lot to it, even if Robin doesn't yet know and Luffy wasn't alive/doesn't have that knowledge)

Franky was showing off cool shit he could do with his robotic body, and Luffy was like 'me too!!!'

Brook found out when Luffy fell asleep listening to him play a song, and Luffy slipped back into his resting form of cloudiness.

While both forms have their uses and limitations, Luffy is most comfortable in his intangible form, even if his physical one is the default. He cannot access his divine form after a certain point of exhaustion hits.

Im going to end that there before I have an entire novel in this. But that's the general thought throw up I'm smacking down right now.

Sorry if this is incoherent and not easy to understand lol. I will flesh it out more later and when I have actually thought more about it. Might change things later too. Then I'll probably make a good post about it with actual wellish made context and lore.

[meteor752]

can we have more details about hermes x Odysseus? Please ~

More than happy to dearie

(Also you didn’t need to send the ask twice lol)

Since Ody is technically Hermes great grandson (*cough cough*), he’s known about his general existence long before he met him on Aeaea. He didn’t care that much about him tho, cause like if he gave a shit about every mortal offspring he had then he literally wouldn’t have time for anything else.

Still, hearing that Athena herself had taken an interest in one of his? Fascinating to be sure. Not enough to start giving a shit, but still, fascinating

And then, Poseidon. Hermes was of course the first to hear the news that Poseidon had attacked and killed over five hundred Greeks over one slight, and you know he spread that gossip to the rest of Olympus like fucking wildfire. But still, that makes two gods (one of which a member of the big three) that has taken an interest in some way in Odysseus. So it might be time to investigate

Hermes finds him and the remainder of his crew having washed up on Aeaea, which tickles him a bit. One of Athena’s “warriors”, seeking refuge on Circe’s island? Interesting choice indeed.

But Hermes takes his time to indulge in one of his favourite pastimes, spying on people. And sure, Odysseus does his fare share of moping there on the beach, but to the messenger gods surprise, despite all of the man’s losses, he takes action almost immediately, ordering some other guy to go scout out the island. And even though Hermes loves watching Circe trick and hex people, he doesn’t leave to go check that out. He stays, watching the mortal go about.

Hermes also takes the time to truly take notice how handsome the man is. He has a slightly short stature and lean build, just like any descendant of his, but he seems to have not let that stop him as he moves about with confident elegance. His hair is much darker than Hermes own, and despite being ruffled and damp from the sea water, the messenger god can see that it’s well cared for. Most of all, he takes notice of the mortals eyes, a deep rich brown, and despite the weariness and paranoia to be found in them, he still sees a small twinkle in them, a light that has not yet been snuffed out by his uncle.

Hermes could have watched the man for hours if he so desired, and so was a little pissed off when the other man from before came running and interrupted them.

But it was through that that Hermes got a chance to see another of Odysseus strengths, his way with words. Despite the frankly idiotic decision to land on Aeaea, the messenger god could clearly see his sister in the way he spoke. He was even more intrigued by the things he was saying, showing loyalty and honour, despite having a chance to escape the situation. Hermes himself never cared much about loyalty, but the fact that the mortal is willing to risk his own life and safety for his crew? He can’t help but be impressed

Until he realises that yeah his new favourite mortal is most definitely going to fucking die if he doesn’t do anything, so, he gets involved.

And if he’s a bit extra giddy when Odysseus says his name, if he flirts a little more than he usually does, if he holds him extra close when they dance, well that’s only for him to know.

Hermes keeps spying on Ody even after Circe, even going so far as to follow him to the underworld. Usually when mortals have extreme breakdowns and cursing the gods out, Hermes finds it kinda funny. It’s a good show. But, when his mortal does it (Because that’s what he is. He’s not Athenas, or Poseidons, he’s his. It was Hermes who saved him from Circe, it’s Hermes who’s keeping an eye on him, hell he would never have been born if it wasn’t for Hermes), it’s way less fun, and just upsetting.

Hermes keeps keeping watch as his mortal keeps getting worse. The sirens, Scylla, his mortals crew turning on him, Hermes witnesses it all. As much as he’d like to assist in some way, he was already in trouble with Zeus for his intervention on Aeaea, and that had been a pretty minor thing all things considered. Despite everything that occurs, he still sees that same twinkle remain in his eyes, that same light that Hermes treasures so.

Still, it was hard to not get absolutely pissed when that other man stabbed his mortal.

When Zeus got involved with his mortal and struck down his crew, Hermes lost sight of him. The messenger god spent seven years scouring the ocean for any trace of the king, but to no avail.

When he’d searched every single corner of the earth, Hermes through in the towel and finally did what he really didn’t want to do.

He asked his sister for help.

Despite how much it upset him, Athena had actually formed a divine bond with Odysseus, which made her capable of tracking him.

And find him she did. On Calypso’s island.

Fuck.

Luckily, Athena wanted him freed too, so Hermes didn’t have to grovel to Zeus himself. He would have done so if needed, but having Athena do ir for him was easier on his pride.

And he was more than happy that that was the case, as Athena got a lightning bolt to the face, and Hermes got the job of retrieving his mortal.

He’s never been as excited as he was, travelling to Ogygia, past the veil keeping the island hidden from the outside world. And, maybe he’s a little gloaty when he tells Calypso to release his mortal, but it’s difficult not to be. The goddess has spent seven years thinking that Odysseus belongs to her. Laughable, truly.

Hermes has spent years thinking about his mortal, missing his elegant stride, his beautiful hair, his lopsided cocky smile, his eyes. Yet, when he first get a look of him again after so many years, building his sad little raft, it’s nothing less than painful.

Because he’s wrong. The paranoia has settled in, making him jumpy and uncertain, and while his time on Ogygia had made him altogether more healthy, it was in a way that just didn’t fit. He looked almost uncomfortable in his own skin as he moved. And worst of all, his eye twinkle had all but vanished.

But all of his upsetting feelings vanished the second his mortal laid eyes on him, and his smile shone brighter than Apollo himself.

Hermes stayed by his side as long as he could warning him both about the dangers ahead, but also drinking in every moment his mortals attention was on him.

But even still, he eventually had to depart. He knew his uncle was waiting for a final chance to finish his mortal off. If Apollo was to be believed, Odysseus would survive the encounter, somehow, but that didn’t stop the rising anxiety Hermes felt as he said farewell to his mortal, taking his leave with a soft kiss.

~~~

I have many thoughts on Hermes, my favourite Greek god (Not my favourite overall god tho, Idun my beloved <3). Mans is most def extremely Not Normal about poor Ody, who did not ask for all this attention from the gods.

I do also imagine most gods to be extremely possessive, and do not like sharing, so Hermes isn’t too fond of the fact that like five other gods are vying for Odysseus attention.

He remains silly tho, stalker tendencies and all

[lavenderprose]

Also, on a hornier note, please tell me more about the Mary Shelly thing? 😉

Assuming you're asking about the Emmrook version of events floating around my head and not the actual story about Mary Shelley losing her virginity on her mother's grave (This is a story I heard a long time ago and might be an urban legend/exaggeration of history. God I hope it's not it's the gothest thing I've ever heard. Either way, cannot be assed to check) Here's how it goes:

After a few nice garden picnics with Emmrich, during which Rook always takes a moment to pay her respects to Emmrich's parents--because she's a Mourn Watcher through and through, and when your in-laws aren't alive to have Family Sundays with, you make due by putting flowers on their grave and politely NOT bonking their son within eyesight of their headstones--the subject of Rook's origin story comes up. Maybe organically, maybe Emmrich's curious about her last name but he's been too polite up til now. Maybe the curiosity has been burning a visible fucking hole in his chest and Rook finally sighs and braces herself and says, "Go ahead and ask," and Emmrich, despite himself, launches into Twenty Questions Mode.

Either way.

"I know almost nothing about myself," is what Rook tells him, and she's made her peace with it long ago, but the sight of his sad eyes makes the old, stale heartache attempt to rise in her again. "No, don't do that. Don't pity me. I don't really care who I started life out as. What matters is who I am now."

"Rook," he says, and it's a statement. He's so intuitive that way. Yes, she's Rook, and that's who she chooses to be every day when she wakes up in the morning. If she tires of it, she'll tell him and they'll go from there. They've probably had this conversation before. Then he says, "I'm curious, dearest--"

"I'm shocked," she teases, and he tuts.

"Curious about the name," Emmrich sighs, and shifts into something she likes to call lecture mode, though it looks a bit ridiculous when he's sitting there on his own boot heels, hands folded in his lap like an eager and precocious boy. "The name Ingellvar is classic Navarran, of noble origin, though the family line has been extinct for over a century. Foundlings aren't uncommon in the Necropolis, and the naming conventions are rather specific. I was wondering--"

"Do you want to see it?" she asks, and leans herself onto his lap. He, as always, simpers to find himself full of her. "I know where it is. Been there a few times over the years. I'll show you the grave where they found me."

"I would quite like that," says Emmrich, so she takes him there.

The upper levels of the Necropolis are sometimes oppulent and sometimes just as dusty and ominous as their lower counterparts. They tend not to shift around as much, but there's no guarantee that anything in the Necropolis will stay in one place forever. Rook keeps track of this particular row of Sarcophagi, for obvious reasons. Several of the most important Nevarrans of the Blessed Age are interred here. Accordingly, it is beautiful and well-lit. The stones under their feet are neatly cobbled and the air is floral.

"They found me there," Rook says, pointing to a particular grave. A low, flat sarcophagus. The epitaph, huge and vaguely glowing even all these years after the initial enchantment:

HERE IS LAID TO REST WILHEM INGELLVAR COUNT OF RUNDEL. GREAT-GRANDSON OF KING BERTRAND PENTAGHAST. HUSBAND AND FATHER. HIS BONES WILL SERVE AS HE DID IN LIFE AS HIS SPIRIT WALKS BY THE MAKER'S SIDE.

It continues in that vein all down the sarcophagus, Nevarran patriotism and Andraste. Rook could recite it all from memory.

"Why this grave, I wonder," Emmrich mumbles.

"No idea," Rook says, which is true, and then, "Haven't really thought about it," which is the biggest, fattest lie she's ever told him.

Emmrich knows it too, because he looks at her and raises his eyebrow.

"Anyway." She slides herself onto the surface of the sarcophagus, which is polished to an almost reflective sheen. "Here's where they found me. Screaming, crying, wah-wah-feed-me." She falls onto her back, legs curled up towards her chest in a mockery of an infant. She wiggles her feet and her eyebrows in his direction. "I was smaller then."

"Evidently," Emmrich says, dryly, and sits down on the end of the sarcophagus. He glances around and, almost to himself, muses, "This chamber is quite busy, comparatively. It's popular for tourists, and close enough to the surface to be part of the Mortalitasi's regular rounds. Whomever put you here must have intended for you to be found."

"Whatever," Rook sighs, and drapes her legs over his lap. "I screamed and screamed until they found me. And the rest is history." She toes off one of her boots. "I have a fun story to tell you."

Emmrich visibly chooses not to address the flippancy with which she thinks of her own origin. Someday, maybe in a few years, she'll wake up in the middle of the night. She'll stumble like one of the dead into another bedroom in their top-level Necropolis townhouse and cling their newborn son to her body. When Emmrich finds her after waking to a cold bed, she'll look at him and with a voice like her own throat is haunted say, "Did she hate me enough to get rid of me? Or love me enough to let me go?" And he'll know she's talking about her own mother. And they'll start looking.

Here, on this day, she isn't yet a mother unless you count fire-slinging skeleton sons. Here, on this day, she plants her socked heel against Emmrich's crotch and curls her toes and says, "Once upon a time, there was a woman, and she was in love with a very beautiful and spooky man, and one time that very beautiful and spooky man fucked her in a sarcophagus and now she can't look at one without--"

"Darling," Emmrich gasps, and wraps his hand around her ankle and very decidedly does not move it. He'd put bangles there, and a chain that disappears into her sock and connects one of the bangles to a thin band that lives underneath the knuckle of her largest toe, and when he did so he looked at her with dark eyes and then did something with his mouth that she still thinks about at least once a day. "This isn't...very respectful of the noble dead."

God, she loves him.

"You've fucked me worse places. Besides, this guy," Rook slaps the surface of the sarcophagus, "was a huge monarchist asshole who's probably been spinning in his grave for the past thirty years because of the little elf girl running around with his last name tacked onto her. Maybe one of these days he'll stop spinning because I'll have a different last name." She's only a little amused that that's what makes Emmrich's cock jump against the sole of her foot.

"Dearest," he says, still consciously sitting still for what her foot is doing, "This really is a very highly trafficked area."

"Good," she says, low and slow.

"Oh," he sighs, and he sounds almost annoyed, like ink has dripped onto his favorite shirt, but he's moving to kneel between her thighs now, pressing her back into the relative concealment of the large flower bushes flanking the sarcophagus. A bit of privacy, such as it is.

"Whatever shall I do with you?" Emmrich asks, even as he shoves clothing aside. He takes off his coat and pillows her head with it, then pulls his shirttails out as some weird attempt at modesty, and she laughs until she feels him inside her.

"You'll figure something out," she tells him.

Emmrich Volkarin, the latest in a long line of esteemed Mortalitasi to be presented with a strange foundling discovered on a long-deceased noble's grave, smiles and makes love to her.

[syndrossi]

October Trick or Treat Fill #8: Jaehaerys receives word of the twins

This time we have a trick! Which in this case means "something that wasn't on the prompt list." Though it could mean something entirely different next time it appears as a poll option, so be warned...

This fill won't make much sense unless you've read Fill #7 aka the first part of Regnal AU aka "consummation babies" as it's a continuation of that, where we get Jaehaerys's POV of receiving Baelon's letter sharing the happy news.

x~x~x

Father,

I bring joyous tidings from Runestone: our family has grown by two! After a day’s brave labor, my good-daughter brought forth a pair of screaming babes, furious at being parted from the safety and warmth of the womb. Though the birth came one moon early and they are yet small, their lungs are quite healthy indeed, and the maester assures me that they are as healthy as can be.

Your heart would swell to look upon them, as mine has. The name of the eldest is yet to be decided, as it is a matter of fierce debate between Daemon and Lady Rhea, but the younger is to be Aemon. He is the very image of my brother. I swear that I can see him in his eyes—not only the color, though that too they share, but the manner in which he studies me, as though he knows things that I do not. His hair is strikingly light of color, just as Aemon’s, though the maester has reminded me that it will yet darken, perhaps to something more like mine own. Selfishly, I wish otherwise. 

And the eldest! Daemon is insistent that he should be Baelon, after my own name, while Lady Rhea favors Hubert or Rodrik, after her great-uncle. He reminds me of Rhaenys at birth, hair dark like his mother’s. His eyes are as a field of lupin clouded by storm, and it is already plain to all that he has a warrior’s heart. If his brother is out of his sight for but a moment, he howls his displeasure at the world, whereas his brother Aemon howls whenever he is given into Daemon’s arms, much to my son’s dismay.

Words cannot describe how it is to hold them. I feel as though a piece of my own heart has been returned to me, and I am certain that they are destined for greatness. You may discount such as a proud grandsire regarding his first grandsons, but it is more than that. You will understand when you meet them.

All of this to say that it is my intention to remain at Runestone beyond the original moon I had planned. I beg your indulgence in this matter. The realm is peaceful and we are at the height of summer, in a time of plenty. Should that change, I shall of course hasten back to your side, but Daemon is yet young to be a father, at only seven-and-ten. Although he has made great strides as a husband since the wedding, I would offer him whatever guidance and wisdom he needs. It is quite a thing, after all, to suddenly find oneself a father twice over!

Please give my love to Mother and sweet Gael. They will adore the twins as surely as I do. I only wish our family could meet them sooner! It is the maester’s recommendation that they remain at Runestone until their first year has passed. As such, I seek your guidance on the matter of dragon eggs for their cradle. I know that you have forbidden that any be taken outside of King’s Landing, but it is good for the health of the babes. I implore that you consider it. If you are amenable, I shall gladly fetch and safeguard them myself.

Your son, etc,

Baelon

Jaehaerys leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a celebratory sip of wine as he reread the missive from his son once more. It was far cheerier in tone than anything his son had written in the years since Aemon’s death, which was heartening on its own. He had hoped that his son’s first grandchild might grant him reprieve from his grief, but his joy at Rhaenyra’s birth had been fleeting. That he had named the younger child after Aemon, however—that spoke to a healing all its own. Merely hearing his brother’s name spoken would on occasion plunge him into despair.

Twins. Jaehaerys looked out the window of his solar, into the warm morning sun piercing through. Was it a good omen, or ill? Rhaella and Aerea’s birth had been heralded as a blessing, yet his sister’s family had come to sorrow and ruin. Aerea’s death—

He set his wine cup down, mouth tightening at the memory of it, even after all these years. It had been a thing of horror, but best not let himself fall into the trap of superstition over reason. He had watched his line dwindle over the years, sons and daughters claimed by death, one by one, to Alysanne’s everlasting grief. The holdfast stood nigh empty, save for Baelon, Gael, and Viserys’s small family.

His sons had given him but three grandchildren, and from them, three great-grandchildren.

For Daemon to have nearly doubled that number was encouraging, and made suffering his grandson’s bitter protests over his match with Rhea Royce more than worth it. Rasher than his father, and with an arrogance not matched in deed. Fatherhood can only improve him.

Would that he could swap Daemon’s success for Viserys’s lack. The match between Viserys and Aemma had been more than fitting, and yielded a great-granddaughter, but his granddaughter had suffered four miscarriages already, which did not bode well for future children from his eldest grandson. And yet it was Viserys who would take the throne someday, after Baelon’s reign.

Even so, the birth of two great-grandsons was to be celebrated. At not even nine moons past the wedding, they could very well have been conceived that very first night. If the gods are good, it is a sign of things to come.

That the children had been born at Runestone was unfortunate. It meant waiting for their presentation to court, though that could also be for the best. He was no stranger to sons who never reached their first name day. But if Runestone’s maester insisted they were in good health, despite the twins’ early birth, then that was encouraging.

I could send Allar to attend at Runestone, Jaehaerys mused. Doubtless a house of Royce’s standing would have a capable maester, but royal children deserved the very best of care. And then there is the matter of the dragon eggs.

There was a reason his son’s letter had taken on a wheedling tone. He greatly misliked the thought of any eggs leaving the care of the Dragonpit or the well-guarded holdfast. Elissa Farman’s theft was not so distant as to have fallen out of memory. There would be those who might expect dragon eggs to find their way to Runestone, and seek to steal them.

If they are as healthy as the maester claims, then they have no need of them. When the babes were old enough to travel, they could be brought to King’s Landing and have dragon eggs placed in their cradle then. Doubtless his wife would petition Baelon every moon to have them brought here.

His eyes fell once more upon the one paragraph that had drawn his attention. I am certain that they are destined for greatness. Baelon was inclined toward excessive pride in his children, as he had been with both his own sons’ births. But for him to insist upon it, to have already found such solace—

Jaehaerys sighed, feeling his bones creak with the motion. Baelon’s dark mood since Aemon’s death had been a matter of concern for years now. His son attended to his duties as Hand with diligence, but little satisfaction. Jaehaerys had begun to fear that the Iron Throne would be the same for him, a burden rather than an opportunity. It was not a fear he would have had a decade before, when his sons had been eager with possibility.

If anything happens to the babes, it could plunge him into despair. In that, his son was far more alike Alysanne than him. Precautions would be needed, but perhaps the prospect of Baelon finding new purpose outweighed the risk of dragon eggs falling into the wrong hands. After all, no dragons had come of the eggs lost before.

He may have his dragon eggs, but I cannot fathom what he is thinking in allowing Lady Royce to entertain such names for a Targaryen child. That must be quickly settled. Daemon’s stubborn pride is of some use here, at least.

Jaehaerys took up his quill. It will be a pain to be without him for a time, but Hightower has been agitating for his younger brother to be appointed to some role within court. He can take this opportunity to prove his usefulness in Baelon’s absence.

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

One thing I do like about TOTJ's take on Dooku's fall is that it really highlights that the Dark Side makes you absolutely masochistic. (Mega long post ahead).

One thing TOTJ establishes is that Qui-Gon's death is absolutely on Dooku (no matter if the show itself doesn't seem to be aware of it).

His tone is concerned and his attitude sympathetic and supportive, but he knows. He knows it's a Sith Lord (he even knows Maul's name). He knows Qui-Gon almost died and is marching right into another trap, but he asks questions anyway and affects ignorance.

"I've been warning them about the coming darkness for years," he says, "never to be taken seriously." Using the Council's skepticism as an occasion to complain about how they didn't believe him while lying by omission is a great case of that hypocrisy Dooku loves denouncing in others. Dooku would rather Qui-Gon share his disillusionment with the Jedi than actually do anything to help Qui-Gon. The Council don't believe him? Okay, Dooku, but YOU DO. You can just tell him what's going on.

But he doesn't.

On some level, Dooku has to be aware of what's about to happen. Qui-Gon is walking into grave danger, and Dooku's response to that - before it happens, when there is still time to stop it - is to put the blame on the people who don't know shit while not doing shit himself. (Why can't Dooku be there to protect Qui-Gon, other than because he's already slavishly loyal to Sidious' plans?)

And this moment puts every subsequent action of Dooku's throughout the Prequels in perspective - particularly his relationships with Obi-Wan, Ventress and Yoda.

Dooku is a glutton for punishment.

I've written here about why I think the 'Box' from TCW 4x17 is meant to parallel Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's mission on Naboo. The dioxis, ventilation shafts, the catwalks and lightsabers, the ray shields, the fire pit... Dooku's idea of a test to find the best mercenaries around is to have them survive what killed Qui-Gon (what he allowed to happen).

During the challenge, it's pretty obvious he starts to suspect Hardeen is Obi-Wan.

Or at the very least, he's taking an interest in the man who supposedly killed Qui-Gon's own apprentice - Dooku's spiritual grandson (see RotS novelization), whom he's been trying very hard to either recruit or kill himself. And what does he do with that interest? Tries to push "Hardeen" to kill Eval in anger.

Dooku, who still mourns the Padawan he knowingly let walk away to his death, watches a pantomime of his Padawan's death, while putting in mortal danger all he has left of said apprentice. If he knows Hardeen is Obi-Wan (and it's pretty obvious that he does), he tries to get Obi-Wan to Fall (or potentially die) in a scenario reenacting Qui-Gon's death. If he doesn't know for sure, then he's encouraging his all but grandson's killer to win the tournament because he admires him (for killing someone Dooku wanted by his side).

Whatever the outcome, Dooku chooses to relive his guilt and chooses to make the same choice to kill his loved one all over again, even though we know he hates that he made this choice:

He misses Qui-Gon and needs him but tries to kill or destroy Obi-Wan, whom he needs and wants by his side. (I haven't counted just how many time he does try killing Obi-Wan in TCW while still expressing his indefectible admiration for him - it's frequent, the Box just stands out to me as one of the most noteworthy occasions.)

And he keeps doing stuff like that!! He keeps choosing the path that causes him the most pain. He does it with Sifo-Dyas, he does it with Yaddle, he does it with Yoda and he does it with Ventress.

Just look at him confronting Sidious about Qui-Gon's death:

He KNOWS following Sidious got Qui-Gon murdered and he KNOWS Sidious will continue to kill or order him to kill people close to him. And yet he's quick to reassure Sidious that this doesn't change anything. Securing his position with Sidious matters more than his rage and grief. The ONLY WAY this behavior makes sense is if Dooku is fully aware that he had a choice about Qui-Gon's fate, and decides that this is the path he's on now: Sidious might make him kill everyone he cares about, but he's going to do it. Every time, things will play out the same.

Sidious tells him to kill Ventress, his new apprentice? Sure, why not!

(And it's not even out of true loyalty for Sidious, because he constantly tries to double-cross him later on. It's pure self-destruction:)

He hates it, Sidious promises him more of it, and he goes along with it!

This is why Yaddle's attempts at bringing him back don't work, in my opinion:

"Whatever lies he's told you, whatever you have done, you can make up for it now by bringing him to justice." This might convince a man who is looking for atonement, except Dooku isn't. He is looking for punishment.

Killing or harming those close to him leaves him broken, furious or in pain? He'll just keep doing it.

Sidious offers him nothing more than agonizing slavery? He'll keep on kneeling.

That's when Yaddle literally offers him the Light - the light that is so much more powerful than the Dark that it has Sidious cowering, the light that can save him if he wants - Dooku just strikes her down, even though he was heartbroken over thinking he had killed her just a moment ago.

He chooses to kill her, regrets it and hates himself for it, and chooses to kill her again. HE KEEPS MAKING THE CHOICE THAT HE KNOWS WILL HURT.

His remedy to guilt is to pick a shovel, because by God if he hasn't hit rock bottom yet he's going to dig!

[macknshift]

THE ONE WHERE . . . I INTRODUCE Y'ALL TO LEO!

SOOOO…i have mentioned leo in like, 90 different posts atp and never actually made a "leo intro" (mainly bc i have weird feelings ab sharing him heavily to the rest of the world lol) but! i figured now would be the best time to get into explaining him to y'all.

LEO , commonly given the last name SCOTT (depends on the dr!) is actually originally the main character's love interest in a hockey romance book i've been in the process of writing. after getting #sickandtired of annoying ass book men i gave up and began drafting one of my own. the main character is literally me (i mean, for christ's sake her name is sloane mackintosh,) and eventually, i began thinking of him in other "au"s (i used to do this a lot on wattpad - i mean DRs but the term AU is usually more digestible to ppl that may not be aware of reality shifting. Anyways.) and began kind of placing him in everything. a list of the drs he is my love interest in is follows;

BETTER CR : (fc silasj2004*) the hockey romance book pretty much as a dr. small changes occur but basically he's the exact same as leo in the book lol

PARENT DR : (fc jack schlossberg. yes. i am one of those girlies. i am not ashamed! at least he has morals + a backbone y'all this could be much worse) the "backstory" is my better cr dr. i'm now a mother of 3 (amelia or mimi, aged 5, giselle or gigi, aged 4 and i'm pregnant with vincenzo, our final kid,) and it follows our life after what would be the events of the book. i sort-of made it also as like a WAG dr in a sense bc leo is a professional hockey player! (but he retires 2 years before this point in time so idk where my thought process is w this lol)

FORMULA 1 DRIVER DR : (fc pato o'ward MY!!!! mclaren man ln4 U ARE NOTHINGGGGGGG) leonardo dempsey, son of actor patrick dempsey (my forever celebrity crush ugh he's so fine) and driver for aston martin aramco f1 team under #99. i essentially took l*nce str*ll's daddy's boy backstory and gave it to leo bc he is indeed a daddy's boy. the only dr leo and i are enemies to lovers bc i'm too obsessed w him otherwise LMFAO

MARVEL DR : (fc marcello hernandez (MY MAAANNNN)) leo scott, secretly the speedster superhero 'comet'. hired by my dad as essentially a bodyguard (leo's not intimidating AT ALL idek how the hell this is supposed to work LMFAO) as comet and knows me out of costume as his sister's roommate (mj is also in every dr ever and actually is here in this cr. i can never leave her out i love her DOWN) basically marichat vibes (god i miss marichat)

POP STAR DR : (fc marcello hernandez, again) leo sinatra, nepo baby great-grandson of frank sinatra (there's a whole, incredibly large bit of lore ab this LMFAO + he's also a great-grandson in my better cr dr too bc i need my man RICH!) and Saturday Night Live cast member. basically i go on snl and immediately fall in love. i've stolen the 'unlikely couple' weekend update sketch for us & he does domingo, which is my song lol we're funny for it idk

THE FCS, in color photos:

i'm missing like, 18 other drs that i can think of but some important info about him;

he's half oaxacan mexican. i've tried my damnedness to find a way to make it obvious but when i was 'designing' him (aka drawing him out) i used jack, silas (*NOTE: he is leo's typical fc if i don't have an designated one for him) and marcello as references to make him look the most like him as i can. the fcs are kind of loose for him but i need a way to like fully visualize him. so. yeah. his 'color palette' (weird way to put it but idk how else) makes him tanner than all three of them i fear. all of the fcs i use (other than jack schlossberg but like. idk his main celebrity lookalike in the better cr is him so i kind of had to) are latino, but i feel like it never ever properly translates when i talk about him bc his name is fucking leopold scott. like. huh.

he's also tall AS FUCK lol and built like a tank lowkey (think tom welling clark kent GOOD GOOGLY MOOGLY) but it's mainly bc he's a hockey player. in every vers he's like. 6'3. shortest he is is w marcello as his fc and even then he's 5'11. (note in pop star dr he gets a lot of comparisons to jacob elordi for some reason??? idk my fans are weird)

he's got big brown baby cow eyes. every. single. time. like that is this man's defining trait and you know what? i would not change that for the world lol

his position in hockey is a goalie! he uses the number #29 and plays for our college and later for the new jersey devils before being traded to the anaheim ducks. after he retires he becomes a firefighter!!!! (which is sooo hot btw)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do…do you think that Skully got bitches later in life or nah?

Consensus when I polled my friends was a firm yes 🤡 I’d say that about checks out? If Skully is as charismatic as Jack, then he’d surely become beloved and earn some fans while on his travels—though if he’s as dense as Jack, then maybe he would notice it until his admirer(s) confessed to him first. Skullyspouses, raise your hands up high where I can see’m…

Fun fact, apparently in the Nightmare Before Christmas official film soundtrack, there’s an epilogue in which Santa visits Halloween Town “many years later” and finds that Jack now has “four or five skeleton children at hand” who play in a xylophone band. Don’t ask me how a skeleton and a rag doll have kids— So if that translates to Skully, our twisted!Jack Skellington… well, maybe he has descendants running around in modern day. Not sure if any of them would know about their ancestry though, since it seems like Skully wanted to remain humble and out of the spotlight.

… That’s fine by me, cuz then I can still have fun imagining my own twisted Jack Skellington OC as one of Skully’s great-great-great (etc) grandsons! ^^

[ghcstao3]

Im currently watching brave and it’s given me brain worms hehe

It’s to do with the will o’ the wisp!

Either soaps been seeing them his whole life guiding him to the task force or after a rough mission, totally lost/injured and with no way to contact anyone they guide his way back to ghost :D

Thanks for everything you write it genuinely makes my day to read all your works!!

ooh i really like this. also- apparently will o' the wisps are actually Not good in folklore so i wrote a little twist to fix that ;)

-

Throughout his life, Soap's nan had always liked to tell him stories about the many malevolent creatures he should hope to never have the misfortune of encountering—kelpies, redcaps, sluaghs; just about everything that existed in his homeland's folklore.

A little cruel in retrospect, Soap thinks, but for a while he'd just understood it as his nan's way of ensuring her grandson was to behave. They were myths, old tales and explanations for the unexplainable, and he can appreciate the determination to share tradition.

But now, as Soap is stranded in thick woods after an operation gone awry, blood sticky on his temple and a bullet stuck in his leg, he's not so sure they were just stories. Not as he's currently staring down an unnatural wisp of light in the darkness, hovering just a few feet away from where he'd collapsed against the thick, gnarled trunk of a tree.

Will o' the wisp, his mind supplies. Omens of death, his nan had told him, like many other creatures and spirits. They appear to the weary and lost like himself, flickers of glowing blue light almost hopeful as they guide one along a seemingly nonsensical path—but instead of leading someone to safety, they lure people to their doom.

The wisp just floats, unmoving, as Soap sits frozen. He tries his radio to no avail, and realizes with a great dread that he only has two options: attempt to find his own way back to his team, to anyone, anywhere, with the great risk of only getting more lost—or follow the wisp in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, it may actually lead him somewhere useful, no matter how bad the destination. Soap could only hope that doom is something he can fend off with a gun.

His decision is made rather easily because... he supposes it doesn't really make a difference, does it?

So he pushes himself away from the tree and toward the light—it vanishes as soon as he steps toward it, but with another step forward, another wisp appears.

Soap limps along, following the wisps. They weave him through trees and take sharp, sudden turns, disappearing and reappearing endlessly as Soap pursues the trail they leave. His head is on a swivel with every sound that isn't the crunch of branches beneath his own boots, with every flash of movement in his periphery.

He feels like he’d been walking forever by the time the forest has grown less dense and the wisps fade away for good—and that's when Soap sees it.

The large, imposing silhouette. The hulking figure cloaked in black. The glimpse of a skull in the sliver of moonlight that had managed to break through the forest's canopy.

Soap swallows a laugh. The will o' the wisps must have led him to Ghost, not realizing doom would have only been certain for Soap had he been the enemy.

Funny.

Ghost spots him and raises his gun, pauses, then after a moment lowers the barrel.

"Johnny?" Ghost grunts. "Where the fuck've you been?"

Soap shrugs a shoulder, wincing as he steps closer. "Lost my way running from the facility. Comms were dead." He flashes a crooked grin. "Worked out though, aye?"

Ghost snorts. "Aye," he echoes. "C'mon, then. Exfil's waiting. Save your explanations 'til then."

Soap gladly follows, relief nearly exalting.

But as they walk shoulder-to-shoulder, Soap can’t help but cast one last glance back at the trees from where he had emerged.

He wonders if the wisps had really made a mistake. He wonders if maybe they hadn't been done leading him, but Ghost had gotten in the way.

Questions he'll likely never find the answers for.

But regardless, now in safe hands—Soap thinks he had better refresh himself on his nan's stories as soon as he gets the chance.

He doesn't know now, whenever they might come in handy.

[askinkiskarma]

𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ��𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕍: 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: Memories flood Neteyam's mind as he deals with your accident, making him relieve your history and all the reasons he can't shake you from his life, no matter how hard he tries.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (mentions of violence, battle, blood, death)

wc: 5.1k words

a/n: I'm actually really nervous about this chapter, because while I love it, it's different than any other Monster in Me chapter so far. This is also the only chapter I've ever written entirely from the MMC's POV, and I hope you enjoy finally finding out why Neteyam's been acting the way he has, and why he's so adamant in his quest for vengeance. As always, thank you for asking to be tagged, I'd love to hear your feedback, your replies and asks and reblogs make my life, so thank you! Thank you to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art, ilysm bestie x and thank you to @draiochtwrites for listening to me talk about my stupid ideas for hours every day, i love you x

na'vi compendium: txepvi  - spark, ite - daughter, srane - yes, Olo'eykte - female Olo'eyktan, tam-tam - calm, oare - moon, tewng - loincloth, torukspxam - octoshroom, ngaytxoa - I'm sorry, 'itan - son, angtsìk - Hammerhead Titanothere, yarik - herbivore, ftang - stop, tsantu - good guy, tsìltsan 'eve - good girl, kali'weya - arachnoid used in Uniltaron

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

And maybe in another life We fight all day, kiss all night But I don't wanna break your heart You keep yours, I'll keep mine

Neteyam, for the first time in his life, couldn’t have cared less if he tried that there was a battle underway, that there were humans screaming and charging at the Na’vi around him, that the explosions happening every time a helicopter went down in flames deafened his ears - none of it mattered anymore, not as he heard the screech of an ikran he knew all too well, that he loved, that was now lifelessly falling towards the ground, taking the woman of his worst nightmares and biggest fantasies along, not when, with every second passing where he ignored the rest of his surroundings and dove as fast as his own ikran could possibly fly in order to make it to you in time, another memory flashed across his mind, so many memories he thought he left behind, so many memories that would haunt his every waking moment if he wouldn’t catch you, if he was too late. 

“Teyam, do you trust me?” 

“What kind of question is that? You’re my best friend. Of course I trust you.” 

Your mischievous smile, although more devious than Neteyam liked, always had power to put his heart to ease… after all, it was you. You, his best friend, the girl who knew everything about him, that helped him withstand every challenge life threw at him, just a couple 11 year olds who had gone through more than most adults do, who have been forced to grow up a lot faster than any kid their own age should ever do. But Neteyam didn’t mind. Maybe he used to, back when he was young and naive. Back then, he cried a lot, each morning a dreaded reminder of the pain and ache that awaited him each day, all for a purpose he couldn’t quite understand yet, that made no sense in a child’s mind, that had no way of truly understanding the concept of a future littered with war and loss, a future where he would carry the burden of being the next leader of his clan, the eldest son of the mighty, revered Toruk Makto and Palulukan Makto, the grandson of brave, respected leaders, the next in line of a ruling dynasty filled with great people he had to follow and to live up to. 

Now, he no longer cried, because no matter how hard life got, he was never alone. Because, even though you didn’t have quite the same pressure on your shoulders, you carried your own burdens and a sadness deeper than Neteyam could ever imagine or could ever want to. In his mind, the sting from a few bloodied gashes and the headaches that tried him each night were a small inconvenience compared to the pain that you struggled with and braved every moment since your parents died. When his father told him that you would be joining him for training in the weeks after the accident, Neteyam didn’t know what to expect. But day after day, you managed to blow not only his expectations, but his entire family’s out of the water, each day just another opportunity for you to prove to everyone that your future would be as bright as all the stars in the night combined, that you were special and unique, that you were a talent that only comes once in a few lifetimes.

Now, years later, Neteyam still found it hard to believe how strong you were, how capable and skilled and fearless. Whereas he’s always been more withdrawn and temperate, your fire burned strong and untamed, and you always managed to get both of you in trouble - if he were to be honest with himself, though, he would never mind, not with you. 

“Good. Then let’s go.” 

You didn’t bother looking behind you as you started sprinting, your flowy top and tewng, always one-of-a-kind, undulating in the wind, making Neteyam’s heart flutter in his chest. You were so beautiful. The most beautiful. A purple flush rising in his cheeks was all that was needed for Neteyam to be grateful for the way you always ran ahead of him, too impatient to wait for a boy that liked to take his time and enjoy the moments few and in between in which life didn’t have to go too fast for his comfort. 

"Where are we going, Vi?"

"Shhh, more walking, less talking, 'Teyam. You need to learn to embrace the unknown." you chuckled as you stopped and waited for him to catch up, before taking him by the hand and pulling him until he stumbled softly onto you and you both fell, him on top of you, with a gasp that turned into loud giggles from your side and unflinching groans from his.

"Vi..."

"The mighty warriors have fallen, what will the clan do without us?"

He couldn't help his own exasperated chuckle and the roll of his eyes as he spoke.

"I don't think we're quite there yet."

You shrugged, sure of yourself as always, a trait Neteyam admired and tried to emulate, to little avail most days.

"Soon. Your dad's already talking about the Iknimaya. We're almost ready, Teyam. And if we do it soon, we'll be the youngest Na'vi to ever do it. You and me."

Before he could say anything, you reached for him until your lips made contact with his cheeks, and it didn't help his blush, that was now deep periwinkle and burning his skin from the inside out, like a fire that wanted to escape his body, too powerful to be contained inside it.

"And just like today, if you ever fall, I'll always be there to catch you. You and I, we're meant to fall and rise together."

Those words rang painfully in Neteyam's ears as his ikran dove at full speed towards the ground, as his open, stretched out hand was just outside of your reach, as he watched your body disappear through the trees, where it would inevitably crash, where it might be lost forever.

His heart, that was going as fast as his ikran was, watching your unconscious form collect deep, bleeding scars like Kiri collected pebbles in the woods with every hard branch your body made contact with, stopped racing in his chest as, by the grace of Eywa, your fall was broken by the plush, attenuating force of a torukspxam right before you hit the ground. Despite the fear, so deeply embedded in him, it was impossible to know if he would ever be able to fully detach himself from it again, a seed of hope bloomed in him that maybe he wasn't too late. That maybe, despite not being able to catch you, not now nor for the past 7 years in which he's left built up resentment prevent him from wanting to, maybe he wasn't too late.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He didn't wait for Seze to land before he jumped and approached you, pushing with all his might against the drag of his own heavy body that felt like it was experiencing the world in slow motion, until one of his hands found the back of your neck, propping you up gently and his other hand placed two fingers on your pulse point, trying to feel for a heartbeat that would either calm his own or stop it altogether.

"Please, Txepvi. Please..."

When the small, barely-felt flutters registered in him, he let out a breath he didn't even realise he was holding and wasted no time in picking you up bridal-style and running back to his beautiful ikran. He had no time to dwell on the cracks deepening in his heart as he watched Seze bumping her snout on the side of Oare's lifeless face, sorrowful trills filling his ears, no time to dwell on the red liquid spilling out from multiple points in your body, dripping down his body and onto the ground, no time to stop yet another memory fighting to come to the forefront of his mind.

Fickle as you are That's exactly why I keep on running back 'Cause I'm brittle at the parts Where I wish I was strong

“I can walk, Teyam.” 

Neteyam decided to ignore you as he grabbed you by the back of your knees and carried you back to the village, the gash in your leg large enough to have hit a couple veins and stain your thigh red, but not deep enough to make it life-threatening - still, Neteyam wouldn’t take any chances. Taking chances… that was the reason for keeping you so close to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck… that was the only reason. 

“Can you, Vi? Isn’t that how this happened in the first place?” He chuckled, yelping a little when your fist made contact with his chest. 

“It was an accident, you know that.”

“Yeah, well, you have a lot of accidents. And so close to the Iknimaya, too…” the shake of his head was mostly a teasing one, and although he tried to push away the nagging fear eating away at him, the one that told him you might not be able to take it with him, the one that screamed he’d be all alone once more, like he was before you, the one that urged bad memories and ugly scenarios into his mind, the one whose ugly head appeared as though from around the corner, staring intently to see if he’ll allow it to approach or banish it from existence. He couldn't decide yet.

He couldn’t do this without you. He needed you to be his first flight. Like you told him last year, and like it’s been solidified in his soul every day since, you and him were meant to rise and fall together. You were meant to fly together, to soar together. And that couldn’t happen if a tiny accident delayed your progress. 

“Aw, it’s sweet you’re worried, although I think it’s mostly selfish and you’re just too scared to do the Iknimaya by yourself.”

The tinge in his cheeks is enough validation for you to start laughing at him, your head thrown so far back, he had to readjust his grip on you, so that you wouldn’t fall out of his arms. 

“I knew it! You scaredy-cat. Why would you be scared, Teyam? Out of everyone here, everyone who’s gonna do this next, out of all of us, you are the best. You’ve always been the best.” 

“No. You’re the best." As much wasn't up for discussion to him, and never will be. "And you promised.” 

Your smile softened taking him in, the little pout he tried his best to conceal, the little scrunch of his nose, the way his ears twitched in slight annoyance and slight embarrassment… he couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought you found it… endearing? 

“I know what I promised. And I intend to keep my promise. You don’t have to worry, Teyam. You and I have always been two sides of the same coin. And as long as you want me by your side, nothing could ever pry me away.” 

"Just hang on, please. Shit. Please don't die. Please don't die."

And maybe when you need my help I like myself when it's over But later in the light, you go Dark and rogue, and I need closure

“Ma ‘ite, you have to be more careful.” The quiet, teasing admonishments of his grandmother do little do deter you, although you keep your eyes on the ground, slight embarrassment visible in the swish of your tail and the flatness of your ears.

“Srane, ma Tsa’hik. Ngaytxoa.”

The thick cream paste made its way from Mo’at’s fingers to your thigh, where it was spread in a hefty layer until the cut was no longer visible. You winced as it made contact with your skin, but said nothing as you accepted the help, and Neteyam saw his grandmother nod in approval at your bravery and inclination to suffer in silence, to not let anyone know you’re in pain at any point. Strong heart. Him, on the other hand, wished you were a bit more forthcoming, wished you didn’t feel the need to go through suffering alone. With a pat on your head and a soft smile, the Tsa’hik raised from her spot on the floor and turned her back on you both.

“You’re all done. It’s just a scratch, this time. I feel like I always have to have extra healing salve at the ready just for you. Now go, and be careful. Your Iknimaya is soon and my grandson would never forgive you if you missed it.” 

“Neteyam, quick, put her on the mat. I need all the help I can get, now! Go get all the healers in training, we don’t have a lot of time.” The barking of orders did little to ease Neteyam’s fear, as he very rarely has ever seen his grandmother this agitated. After sending away the trainees, she turned to her grandson and took a deep breath, to calm herself. As serious her voice was, as rushed and violent the atmosphere around them, she still found the second to put her hand on her grandson’s chest, feeling the erratic, loud, trepidous heartbeat that refused to settle in him. 

“Ma ‘itan, she’s very weak. I know you haven’t been close in a long time, but she is your intended mate. I need you to prepare yourself for the worst. Now go back to the battle.” 

“No. I’m staying here.”

Neteyam didn’t get scared often. A whole lifetime of being raised like a soldier made his skin as thick as an 'angtsìk’s, and little ever managed to get under it. You did. You had unmatched prowess to make him feel so many things, too many things, all too intense, all too powerful, all too overbearing. When he was young, all of them were good and pure, all exciting and hopeful - love. It was love. Now, he feels anger and resentment, vengeful spite and deep arousal, all of which poison his mind and make him a version of himself he hates. Hate. That’s it. It’s all hate, isn’t it? So if it is… why are his limbs trembling and eyes watering, why is his mind jumbled with all these memories, why has the blood coursing through his veins been irreparably polluted with so much deep, earth-shattering terror and grief at the thought of losing you? Why was there a crater in his chest where his heart usually resided when he imagined his life without you in it?

Maybe it's because, for better or for worse, you were a constant in his life. From the second your presence made its way to him, you never left. There hasn't been a day that he hasn't seen you, that he hasn't been in your vicinity, not a day in which you haven't trained together, side by side, friends before, enemies after, but always together. Your words, that he drowned for years, came back like an undying echo ringing in his ears.

"You and I, we're meant to fall and rise together..."

I don't need a reason to keep on dreamin' That we don't lose, yeah, what's the use?

More and more, it felt like you had been right all along. He didn't think about it for so long, so desperate in his attempts to hurt you like you had hurt him, to sour your life like how you soiled his most precious memories, all of you and him, all of a childhood long left behind, all of fantasies he's harboured at the time that long dissipated from the version of future he used to dream about. Nothing about his life now was how he once envisioned, and that was because of you. He would never forgive you, but he couldn't let you go, either. No matter how the visions differed from his current reality, he couldn't shake you, couldn't let you go. Because despite it all, he couldn't part with the girl that used to be his partner in crime, his training buddy, his best friend, his first flight.

"Are you ready?"

Neteyam watched in awe as you confidently nodded at his father, smiling as if the hardest challenge an Omaticaya Na'vi would ever undertake, one that most people did when they were much, much older, was nothing to you, like it was just another yarik hunt that you've done a thousand times before. You turned to him and the smile you gave him dazzled him, left him breathless, not a good thing for the trek he was about to undertake, but still, not something he would could ever find it in himself to be upset about. You turned your attention momentarily to the bowl of paint in your hands before you brought a finger to his face, completing the pattern that was the same as the one you were adorning, one that he painted on you.

You both took turns saying goodbye to everyone, paying special attention to the little bundle in Neytiri's arms. Neteyam couldn't believe this was his little sister, and couldn't believe how attentive you were with her, how careful and loving. Some of his personality must be rubbing off on you, because to the Sully family's surprise, you didn't drop Tuk once in the year she's been born. In fact, you haven’t dropped anything in the last couple of months, including yourself from high places, which used to be one of your favourite past times, and Neteyam couldn't help blush at the thought that he was the reason you were being a little more careful.

As expected, the climb was the hardest thing Neteyam ever put his body through, and he felt suddenly grateful for all the years of torturous training that now felt like a peaceful breeze of the wind in an otherwise unyielding hurricane. Still, seeing you in front of him, not once complaining, not in front of the multiple 15 to 19 year olds that were also taking their rite of passage today, not in front of your Olo'eyktan, made him push through, too. If you could do it, so could he. Because you would do it, so would he.

The rookery was hidden behind a waterfall, and Neteyam watched as one by one, the few Na'vi joining you both either failed or succeeded, and with each attempt, his fear grew stronger, his mind more restless. Eventually, it was his turn, and with a deep breath, he started walking towards the slippery ledge that would lead him to his fate. A hand on his chest not only stopped him in his tracks, but also stopped his heart momentarily, just momentarily, because before he knew it, it started booming again with enough intensity to dizzy him.

"Ma tsantu... you got this. Remember, you and I, we're meant t-"

"-to fall and rise together, I know." you smile, your fingers smoothing the deep frown that gave Neteyam a headache without even realising and he sighed, trying to calm his mind and soul, focusing on you and only you.

"Exactly. So you can't fall, because if you do, I'll have to follow you... and I don't intend to fall yet, Teyam. Not yet."

"How did this happen?"

"Oare... got shot. She's dead. She... fell. I couldn't catch her." I couldn't catch her...

Neteyam couldn't bear to look at the way his grandmother was ripping you apart, although he knew it was all with the purpose of putting you back together again. Her trainees, all girls he knew, some girls he knew more intimately than others, all flocked around you, with wet cloths and trays of balms and powders, of plants and tinctures, and it all hurt, the guilt of knowing to some extent, to a large extent, this was all his fault. This ongoing war between you, never-ending and harrowing, reached a nadir that resulted in the death of your ikran, in your accident, and indirectly, because of your removal and his from the battlefield, might result in the deaths of good na'vi men and women, all of whom had families and a life, and a future they would be robbed of.

Neteyam couldn't leave you and go back. If he did, he knew that much like you, he wouldn't be able to focus enough to matter, and the thought of his mother, of his father, losing one more loved one was too much to bear. Neteyam couldn't leave you, but he couldn't stay here either. It hurt, being here, watching flashes of the girl he hates intertwined with the girl he loved more than anything else in the world, it hurt, having to deal with feelings he buried deep down and memories that came to him like summer rain, uninterrupted and warm, but powerful enough to flood and leave damage their wake.

With one last look at your unconscious form, Neteyam left the village on the back of his Ikran, knowing there was one thing he needed to do, he had to do. His mind was overcome with agonising sorrow as Seze's mourning was felt through his entire being, and the full weight of what transpired came crashing down on him like a tidal wave he could do little to stop, but had to power through, hoping that by the end there was something left of his heart to go on. Oare, much like Seze, has been in his life every day for the last 7 years, and he loved her. She was playful and sweet, and she always played with him when he snuck out at night to give her pets and treats, refusing to let your declining relationship affect their bond. Oare was Seze's best friend, her companion and life partner, and Neteyam knew her death would affect his ikran for a long time, perhaps forever.

With a squeal that matched the banshee, Neteyam watched from the air, on the back of his new mount, his new friend, his new spirit sister, as you made Tsaheylu, and his heart, that has been barely beating in anxious fear, felt finally awake again.

"Ftang! Tam tam, tsìltsan 'eve." your smile was wide and relieved as your eyes searched the sky until they found his, and he swore he never knew it was possible to love someone so much, to feel so connected to a soul, so much so it felt like he could hear you, your heartbeat and your mind, like tsaheylu would have been redundant because he knew. He just knew.

"I did it, Teyam!"

"Yes, you did, Vi! Come, first flight seals the bond."

That day was Neteyam's happiest day. That memory is still something that he cherishes deeply, that he'll never be able to shake, that haunts him at night, that shakes his resolve whenever he's thinking of a new way to make you pay. That memory is still untarnished in his mind, and it will always remain so, especially today, as he's fastening Oare's lifeless form onto Seze, petting her one last time, allowing the tears he's been stubbornly pushing back this entire day to finally fall from his cheeks onto her face, almost like she was the one crying, one last time.

"I'm sorry, girl. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry that I beat you... again. You're gonna have to do much better than this to beat me, Teyam."

The floating rock you landed on, hours after you finished your Iknimaya, was alit with biofluorescence, the colours reflecting in your eyes and on your shiny skin, covered in a light layer of sweat from the flight.

"Give me a break, Vi. It's my first time doing this."

"Yeah, cause I've been doing it for ages." you say, chuckling and rolling your eyes. You prop your body on your elbows and point to the two banshees playing in the air with each other, a mass of ravelling green and purple, so beautiful, and so, so free.

"I can't take all the credit. She did most of the work. I love her already, Teyam. Do you have a name in mind for yours?"

Neteyam didn't have to think about it too much. Ever since he's first found out about the Iknimaya, a story told to him by his mother consolidated a name in his memory that he's never been able to forget.

"Seze. Like my mother's ikran that bravely gave her life in the war against the Sky People."

"That's pretty. And fitting. She's a beautiful flower."

"What about you?"

"Oare."

"Why?"

"I used to look at the moons every night and think I'm so far away from this, from my destiny, from who I've always known I was meant to be, the Iknimaya might as well have been the moon - unreachable, untouchable, a world away. And now, I'm here, with you, way past curfew, and we're gonna get in so much trouble and I couldn't care less because I did it, I reached the moon. And I did it with the only person I ever wanted to. So.. Oare."

"Thank you, Teyam. I learnt a lot from you in these years. Ever since I met you, I knew you were special. And I think, even without realising, I wanted to be more like you. I've looked up to you for so long, I don't even remember my life before the Sullys took me in. If I'm here today, it's because of you. You helped me become more temperate and understand the weight of my talent and my power, and that I have a responsibility to the clan, that this is bigger than me, and my life."

Neteyam was taken aback at your words. You were never this forthcoming with your feelings normally, but he couldn't say he wasn't happy about it. He was so happy.

"I love you, Vi. I may have made you more responsible, but you made me better. Braver. More creative, more inventive. I almost couldn't finish the Iknimaya today, and then one of your crazy ideas popped in my head, and it worked. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't have done this without you, without your influence in my life. Thank you."

You smiled softly, and put your head on his chest, just watching the dance of the banshees, and he prayed that this moment would never end.

"I guess we really are meant to be together then, huh?"

"Yeah. I guess we are."

Neteyam placed Oare in the village, where the elders and Tsa'hik would be able to perform Eywa's funeral rituals, before making his way back to the tent. He couldn't help the gasp that escaped him as he was met with your drowsy, blood-shot eyes, so much sadness in them, it broke him. They were so different then the ones that have haunted Neteyam's mind today, so devoid of the innocence and love he remembered, so filled with anger and spite and hurt, so much like his own, such a bitter reminder that the past was only that, the past, and there was nothing left of you, or of him, of the love you shared and the future he envisioned. With one last memory, Neteyam felt the walls surrounding his heart, thick and unflinching, growing harder with every year since the Iknimaya, fortify yet again, as one last memory emerged uninvited and reminded him of why, despite your history, Neteyam would never look at you the same way again.

And I know whatever this is ain't love So I'm goin' I'm gonna let you go, let you go

"I'm going to go back to my tent. I had too much of a good day to spoil it by Jake yelling at me for 2 hours straight. I'd rather save the pleasure for tomorrow."

"That's so unfair, why do I have to suffer by myself?"

A shrug was all the answer you felt was necessary to give him, and he felt his heart drop at the notion of going to his family's tent so late, so far past curfew, without your much more argumentative presence, that his father could never resist. He walked cautiously, silently, praying that his family would be asleep so he could just sneak in and postpone the yelling until tomorrow. To his surprise, he heard whispered voices coming from right outside the tent, whispers he quickly recognised as his father and grandmother's.

"... that it should be her. She should be the next Olo'eykte. That she is the most deserving of it, has been since she was young. It took a long time to see it for myself, but... I don't know. Maybe he.."

...Olo'eykte? You? Neteyam couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't believe how quickly his father was willing to replace him, how quickly he considered you better and more worthy of the title than his own son, than the rightful heir. You were both 12, for Eywa's sake. How could a decision be made so early? Neteyam felt tears gather in his eyes, the betrayal's sting more painful than a kali'weya's, and yet, still, a part of him knew this already. A part of him couldn't find it in him to be upset, because you were better. And you deserved to lead, you deserved to fulfil your destiny, that was made for greatness, made for the songs and the ballads, made for history.

"It's Neteyam's birthright, Jakesulli. It wouldn't be right, no matter how worthy the girl is. What about a mateship? They have been inseparable for years anyhow."

"Ah, she would never want to be Tsa'hik. And she wouldn't be good at it anyway. Besides..." the silence felt like it dragged on forever, and he clung on to it, afraid of what was waiting for him at the end of it.

"I mentioned it to her. She said she... doesn't want to mate with Neteyam. That she couldn't ever love him the way a mate would. She was... very adamant about it."

As Neteyam looked into your eyes, those words forever embedded in his psyche, playing in his ears like a cacophony of sounds that rattled him every time he saw you, even so many years later, solidified in him by all the times you continued to hurt him, continued flaunting your relationships and skills to him, your connection and closeness to his own family, that sometimes he felt like he didn't belong in anymore, like he was the adoptive one... he was reminded that every time, it hurt, every day, it broke him further, and those eyes that were once his guidepost and the reason he got up in the morning, were now empty and bleak, and enough to make anger bubble in his soul once more, until it drowned everything else, until it was all that was left.

I don't need a reason to keep on dreamin' That we don't lose, yeah what's the use? I don't need a reason to keep on dreamin' That I can win this stupid thing called love

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @afro-hispwriter @soleilmoon @crazy4books1 @bakugouswaif@randxmthxughts @xreadersstuff @sirezaya @kimberlyshailany-blog @gyuventure @jujudsmyst @kikookii @nxptury @nonniesworld @koing-slvt @bakugouswaif @isnt-itstrange @tpwkforevermore @alahamums @tallulah477 @gknj9495@aquamarine001 @itssomeonereading @yumimak@sweetbread-m@eqgroil @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @juneonhoth @yagirlheree @jackiehollanderr @legendarynoodlebowl @iameatingmyhair @justasimps-blog@hannabanana-09 @xylianasblog @misscaller06 @yeosxxx @myh3artttt @teyamsbitch @musicownsme @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @zoetrope1997 @itsmy-alteregohere @ntymavtr @curlszx88 @maki-z @riatesullironalite @baahsaama @luna-salem @teyamtesuli @koing-slvt

[thecircularlibrary]

hiiii could you pls write anything about nash and alisa i love them so much and im so sad about their ending ☹️☹️

hiiii!! not sure if this is what you were looking for but I wrote a backstory for them! and it’s a songfic! <3333

loss of my life

Nash and Alisa

words: 2041

warnings: swearing

A/N: in this fic, they live in austin. and alisa and nash are the same age; they might've already been but they sure are now P.S. i really like this one, guys

you told me I'm 

the love of your life

☾☙❀❧☽

“Please don’t do that again, Alisa. It’s dangerous. I know you grew up with him, but you can’t just disappear for hours because you heard about a rolled ice cream place in San Antonio. That’s not how it works. As long as you’re in high school, you’ll be home at a reasonable hour. And you’ll text me back,” said Alisa’s father, the great “Ortega” in McNamara, Ortega, and Jones. Also known as the great pain in her ass.

She looked up from the marble floor of her father’s in-house office to look at him. To absolutely nobody's surprise, 16-year-old Nash Hawthorne was looking through the glass door behind her father’s desk. When Alisa made eye contact with him, all hope of giving her father a serious response vanished as she struggled to hold in her laughter. It wasn’t that Nash was doing anything necessarily funny, it was just that he was Nash.

Her father sighed, not even bothering to look behind him. “Go to your room, Alisa. And if I catch my client’s grandson in there, there’ll be more disciplinary action.”

Alisa walked out of the office calmly and closed the door behind her. She was able to keep a straight face until she made eye contact with Nash, who was holding in a laugh of his own. As they laughed, or in Alisa’s case, cackled, they made their way down the hall. After they’d calmed down a little bit, Nash finally spoke for the first time since they’d been intercepted pulling back into the driveway in his truck.

“You know, Li Li,” he started, eyes glinting. “We should’ve brought your dad back some of that ice cream.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Maybe it would help him chill the hell out.”

They fell apart again.

☾☙❀❧☽

I felt aglow like this

Never before and never since

☾☙❀❧☽

Maroon caps flew in the air all around Alisa. She jumped up to catch hers before it hit the ground so she could protect the rhinestoned University of Texas logo on the back of it. She searched the sea of caps and gowns, hugging each other, crying, trying to find her person. The boy who dedicated his graduation cap to his little brothers.

The second Alisa saw Xander’s baby picture, Nash met her eyes and grinned. She knew she didn’t have much time so she rushed towards him and jumped. Even with a diploma in one hand, he caught her effortlessly.

` “We did it,” he whispered into her hair.

He set her down but kept his arms wrapped around her in a hug. After a while they broke apart to find their friends and agreed to meet back up in ten minutes by the exit to find their families.

However, when Alisa went to the exit ten minutes later, Nash was nowhere to be found. The arena was almost empty so she would’ve been able to see him if he was still there. Just as she was deciding to check outside the arena, she heard a familiar voice from the hall.

“Your grandfather is preparing you all for something greater. If he’s not here, there’s a reason for it,” said Skye Hawthorne.

“So more games, then. That’s why he’s not here. He wants to create more riddles for me to figure out. More reasons for me to never trust him again.”

Now it was Nash’s voice. Alisa knew she shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but she knew how conversations like this ended and she just wanted to make sure he was okay.

“You know it’s not like that, Nash. He just wants to grow your mind.”

“I just graduated high school”

“And you already have 14 special skills, 2 world records in track and field, and 7 patents under your belt. And you wrote a comic book.”

“Jameson, Grayson, and Xander will have all of that and more. I want him to be proud of something I did on my own. Something I can take responsibility for. What I don’t want is for him to be proud of his ability to utilize his connections to produce mediocre work,” Nash’s voice was hardened and Alisa hated it. So she did the rational thing that any eighteen-year-old girl would do.

“Hi Skye! Have you seen my dad anywhere?” Her smile was nervous, her voice a bit too high pitched. Nash was staring at her. “He’ll want to talk to Nash, too. Since he practically raised him and all.” The dig wasn’t subtle and it wasn’t meant to be. The temporary smile Skye had painted on faltered slightly.

“Oh. Yes–um, he was over by the music hall, I believe.”

“Wonderful!” Alisa turned to her left. “Let’s go Nash!”

As she grabbed Nash’s wrist and made her way to the music hall, he caught up to her and looked at her.

“I love you, Li Li.”

She smiled.

“I love you, too.”

☾☙❀❧☽

You and I go from one kiss to gettin’ married

☾☙❀❧☽

A sparkling ocean. A dinner. A beautiful view from a beautiful hotel. A break from school. Nash had missed track practice (a.k.a. risked his own life) to take her to Puerto Rico, where her father was from, where he knew she always wanted to go, for spring break. They were twenty-years-old. They lived together. They loved each other. They had the ideal college romance. Straight out of a novel: athlete and honors student. He was studying Psychology and she was studying Marketing. Everything she could’ve ever wanted. 

Alisa truly thought it couldn’t get better. Until Nash was on one knee, with a beautiful ring held out. 

“Alisa Ortega. I’ve never felt at home in my family. But I’ve always felt at home around you. You bring out the best in me. You make me laugh. My family loves you. I love you. Will you marry me, Li Li.”

He was crying. She was crying. Quite literally, the only thing she could do was nod her head as her shaky hands covered her mouth. He stood up quickly to put the ring on her finger and wrap her in a bone crushing hug.

It was everything.

He was everything.

☾☙❀❧☽

It was legendary

It was momentary

☾☙❀❧☽

Alisa didn’t know why it still felt weird to come home for the summer. She lived in Austin. Her family lived in Austin. Her fiancè went to the same college as her. It seemed like she wouldn’t miss home at all. But, every summer, she came home to a huge house, built for ten people, but it only housed three: her and her parents. It was even worse when she visited Nash’s family: a huge house built for a hundred people and housing ten. It made her somewhat grateful the visits were becoming less and less frequent, with Nash distancing himself. Currently, they were laying on her childhood bed staring at the paper stars hanging from her ceiling.

Soon, Nash’s voice rose in the silence. “So you changed your major.”

Alisa turned towards him. “Yeah, I did.”

He stayed staring at the ceiling.

“You were studying marketing. What made you switch to Political Science?”

“Well…I mean, I…” she hesitated to tell him because she knew what his reaction would be. “I’m taking over the firm. Eventually. One day, I mean.”

He found those paper stars very interesting, considering he wouldn’t take his eyes off of them. It took Alisa a second to remember they made them together when they were seven.

“My grandfather is very central to Texas, Alisa. How would we go North?”

Alisa.

“We wouldn’t.”

Those damn stars.

“Oh. Okay.”

☾☙❀❧☽

"I'll never leave"

"Never mind"

☾☙❀❧☽

“Nash.” Alisa followed him into the living room. “Nash.”

He was pacing. Rubbing a hand over his face, keeping the other one on his hip. He had abruptly gotten up when she had talked about moving into her childhood home after the wedding since it had the home office she needed, and now she was worried. He spun to face her.

“Alisa why don’t we just get our own home. I can drive you to work or we can hire a driver. I don’t mind.”

“Why don’t you want to move in? It’s not like we’re moving into Hawthorne House.”

“They’re always over there Li Li, and I don’t need to deal with that right now.”

“Why don’t you just talk to them, Nash. They’re your family.”\

Nash looked at her incredulously. For the first time, she saw anger in his eyes, directed at her.

“My family, Alisa? My mother stopped caring about what I did when I was 4 years old. My grandfather has more faith in my brothers than he has in me, and they haven’t even hit puberty yet. My brothers think I’ve abandoned them and my aunt, the only person who’s understood me, is now trapped in a toxic marriage with a man who isolates her from her nephews. So tell me, Alisa. What part of that is my family?”

“Why are you calling me Alisa? You’ve been calling me Li Li since we were toddlers.”

Nash looked like he didn’t know her anymore. Oh.

“Because the second you gave up on your dream to work for my grandfather, you stopped being the girl that I knew. The woman that I proposed to.”

Alisa needed to look up to stop herself from crying. It wasn’t working.

“What the hell, Nash. That’s not fair and you know it.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. Because this is my dream. I was too scared to tell you because I know your relationship with them. But my dad offered it to me if I went to law school and I knew I was more likely to get in with a different major.”

“What happened to making our own way in the world, Alisa? What happened to breaking free from our parents?” Nash’s eyes were pleading now. Begging her to revert back to his idea of how the world should be.

“My parents never did anything but try to protect me. And clearly they were right to,” Alisa’s tone was scornful. Nash’s face hardened with realization. The same way it had graduation night.

“Fine. If that’s your dream, who am I to stop you?”

“Nash.”

“Alisa, I’m serious. You should follow your dreams. I want you to be happy. But I can’t be with you while you do it. Our relationship ends here.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, all of the air left Alisa’s lungs.

“I’ll pack my stuff and sleep on the couch tonight. I’ll be gone before you wake up tomorrow.”

“Nash, what?”

“Alisa it’s for the best.”

“For who? Your fear? You’ll have to specify between your fear of commitment, your fear of your grandfather, and your fear of disappointing your little brothers. Although, from the looks of it, this decision includes all three.”

“Alisa, I just can’t do this. My dream is to travel and help people. Yours isn’t. I can’t. I’ll leave tonight. I really do love you, but I can’t do this.”

And he was gone. From her life, from Austin, all of it.

☾☙❀❧☽

Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire

Your arson's match your somber eyes

☾☙❀❧☽

It didn’t feel real to Alisa. That Nash Hawthorne was standing across the room from her. She was standing behind her father, he was standing with his brothers. She hadn’t seen him since that fateful night in their senior year of college. She transferred to Rice and then went back to UT for law school. He had stayed at UT to run track and field, graduated, left, and never looked back. Until now, she supposed.

She wouldn’t say it didn’t sting. Especially with the way he looked at the blue-haired girl. The way he gravitated towards her. She’d be gone soon after the will reading, but he had a way of always making girls come back. Except Alisa.

She’d learn to live with it. Live with seeing him, especially now that she was in charge. She had a feeling, though, that she’d always wonder what could’ve been.

☾☙❀❧☽

And I'll still see it until I die

You're the loss of my life

[everythingblackblack]

Just remembered that Professor Agasa is Jii's inventor friend who helps with Kid's gadgets so Shinichi and Kaito have another connection. It would be hilarious if Shiho/Ai figured it out first because of this, I think Kaito would get along great with her and the Professor.

I've thought about this before.

Jii is a close friend of Agasa, I don't doubt that maybe Agasa even knows that Jii works for KID but chooses to ignore it.

However, we all know how much he cares about Ai, I imagine that at some point they had a conversation about that along the lines of:

"We've been friends for a long time, I know you're a good person, but I also know that you work for KID."

Jii doesn't look at him, he just takes a sip of his drink. They never talk about it, it's a not-so-secret secret between them, Jii always hinted at it, but Agasa never seemed to care. He doesn't think he's going to turn them in, so he waits for him to continue.

"I have a daughter, not biological obviously, she's suffered a lot, bad, very bad people are after her, I'm afraid I won't be able to protect her."

"Do you want him to investigate them?"

"No, it's very dangerous, and I wouldn't put a friend's family in danger for mine, just… if one day that girl comes here without me, do you think they can hide her? She's my family, and I know she'll be perfectly hidden with someone as skilled with disguises as KID."

"Knowing my master, I don't think he'll reject you, and I won't either, however, I'm sure he'll want to meet her."

"I think it would be good to make proper introductions, I want her to know where to go if she needs it." It makes a lot of sense to me that Agasa would want to hide Ai away if things went too bad, and what better place to hide than with someone he has no "relationship" with?

I can see Jii explaining the situation to Kaito, and being the kind person he is, agreeing to help them out. And he's also thrilled at the idea of ​​meeting the inventor of his gadgets! Kaito has so many questions! He might even ask him for suggestions for his card gun and his opinion on it.

In Ai's case, I feel like Agasa makes her a hot drink and they sit alone talking in the middle of the night when Conan isn't around and the kids are in their own homes.

"Why did you need to talk to me alone?"

"I want to introduce you to my bartender friend and his grandson."

"Just me? Why?"

Agasa takes Ai's hands, more to comfort himself than her.

"I may not say it as often as I should, but you are important to me, we don't know what will happen to the organization in the future, so if things get bad enough that I can't stay by your side, I want you to have somewhere to go, I don't want you to be alone again and I'm worried about your safety."

Haibara would stay silent, what Agasa says makes a lot of sense, but she has a lot of thoughts in her head. A part of her feels touched, she never thought she could have a family again, and on the other hand she is worried about the uncertain future that awaits them.

For now, all she can do is give him a hug, he's not a person who usually shows affection, but with the two of them being the only ones there, she gives herself the opportunity to do so.

"Wouldn't it be dangerous for them if that were to happen?"

"My friend's grandson is very good at disguises, I hope that with him they would never be able to find you, and also that almost no one knows my connection with them, it makes it the perfect place to hide."

"You thought a lot about it."

"I want you to be safe."

Kaito immediately recognizes Haibara, and also Agasa, they are friends of Conan.

The first thing Agasa says in this situation is that Ai must not tell Shinichi about this unless this situation becomes too dangerous.

Haibara did not think that the professor's friend would work with KID, nor that the latter would use the professor's inventions, she thinks it is very funny.

While Agasa and Jii talk, Haibara and KID get to know each other.

KID: I'm surprised that you chose to stay, I thought you would leave as soon as you found out who I am.

Haibara: You don't care about my secret, so I don't care about yours.

KID: Don't you think I'm suspicious? That my assistant and I are?

Haibara: You can't expect me to trust you right away, but Professor Agasa does, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but don't expect mercy from me if you end up getting involved in a robbery just because you use his inventions.

KID: Interesting. I like you.

Haibara: I just threatened you, you have weird tastes.

KID: I like people who try to kill me, they make life more fun.

Haibara: You're strange.

KID: Well, trust is something that is built. Here's my number.

Haibara: Is it real?

KID: No, but if we're going to make friends, we need to start somewhere right?

Haibara: I didn't say I wanted to be your friend.

KID: But you said you don't trust me, and from what the brilliant and charming professor said, if you ever find yourself in a situation where you can't go home, you have to find us, so… Why not become friends? I think that way you wouldn't feel awkward and distrustful if that possibility ever came up.

And that's how these two become text friends.

Since Kaito and Haibara have programming skills, I like to think that they design their own app to talk to. I like the headcanon that Kaito has knowledge in chemistry and creates his own smoke bombs, so he asks Haibara for a lot of advice.

She has him listed as "Unpaid Intern" and Kaito as "Labor Slave."

Conan is incredibly curious about her strange online friend, he makes Haibara laugh, she seems happier, he needs to know who can make her laugh out loud with a single message.

However, every time he tries to access the strange app it asks for a password, and he has no idea what it is.

She'd be surprised if she knew it was 1412, and yes, Kaito's is 4869.

Kaito asks her about the antidote, since he's seen Shinichi use it, she tells him that "unlike that reckless fool, he only uses it in serious emergencies", she shyly tells him that she would have liked to go on a date with her, but understands the gravity of her situation, so she apologizes for thinking something stupid.

Haibara tells Kaito about the kids, how dumb Shinichi is, Agasa, the new music she's listening to, the series she watched.

Kaito about his day at school, magic tricks, mentions the Nakamoris, complains about Hakuba and Akako, and asks if it would be too much to use pink glitter for their upcoming heist. I would really like to read a fic (or make it myself, since I'm at it) with their online friends, and if it comes to the point that Ai has to become Shiho once again, Kaito can take her out for a good time for a change.

[ace-s-fav-dp-posts]

So I've seen DPxDC stories where Danny is Damian's twin brother or just full blood sibling in general and not biologically a Fenton at all, where he's Bruce and Maddie's son, Talia and Jack's son, stories where he's either Bruce or Talia's kid with some other random person and was adopted by the Fentons.

Stories where either Jack or Maddie is Ra's kid and Danny (and Jazz) are thus Damian's maternal first cousins.

I've even seen a few stories where Danny was just literally Ra's son, either by blood or by adoption.

I know of one specific post where Danny is Dusan's son and Mara's older brother, but that's it.

I have yet to see a single prompt where either of Danny's parents are descended of either Dusan or Nyssa even though both of them are far more than old enough to be grandparents.

Hell, Dusan is calculated to be around 750 years old by some people, while Nyssa canonically had her bloodline wiped out by the Nazis, a bloodline that included a great grandson and she has a confirmed birth year of 1775 (so she'd be nearly 250 years old in modern day).

So the idea of Damian's first cousin being an adult pushing 50 with kids older than Damian himself would be completely logical (if you go ahead of sticking the show aged DP characters into the 2020s).

Though to be honest if we go this route I'd pick different Fenton Parents and generational displacement from Ra's depending on which of Ra's kids Danny and Jazz are descended from.

If they're descended from Dusan, then I'd pick Jack as being his son, and Mara's older half brother, who is older than her by like 46 years.

The Fenton's are actually aware of their connection to a quasi-immortal assassin, but Jack and Maddie do their best to keep their kids out of that life.

Which Dusan isn't supper accepting about. But he also only discovered Jack when he was already an adult, and if he wants to be invited to his grandkid's birthdays and be allowed to drop Mara off at the Fenton house to be watched he just kind of has to accept that his son and grandchildren aren't interested in the Al Ghul legacy.

While if it's Maddie who's descended from the Al Ghul bloodline, then I'd want her and Alicia to be descended from Nyssa's line, specifically Vasily Vasilevich, Nyssa's great grandson.

Nyssa thinks he's killed by the Nazi's like the rest of her descendants but because he's an infant someone actually manages to smuggle him away before he actually enters any camp. He eventually ends up smuggled all the way to the United States, where he's given a new name, and raised as an American by the family that took him as their own while fleeing from the Nazi's and smuggled him to the state's in the first place.

So Maddie and Alicia are both Nyssa's great great granddaughters, while Danny, Jazz, and Dani are Nyssa's great great great grandchildren. The Fenton's (and Walkers if we go ahead with making that Maddie and Alicia's maiden names), have no idea that they're descended from a weird eco terrorist assassin cult...

Until Jazz insists on the family doing one of those at home dna tests after Maddie casually dropped family lore about how her dad wasn't the biological child of her grandparents, and that they'd ended up taking him in when fleeing Europe from Nazi persecution, and no one knew who his birth parents were or if any of his biological family survived or not. Or even the name his biological parents gave him.

Jazz just thinks this is going to be a fun family history project where nothing weird will happen, unbeknownst to her Tim Drake has created backdoor access to every single one of those at home dna testing databases he can find, specifically looking for hits on the Al Ghul family tree.

That man might be old as fucking dirt, but Talia's existence (and backstory of being conceived at Woodstock with a random hippy lady) is proof that Ra's is more likely than not still producing swimmers and going around banging random women much to Tim's horror.

And Tim wants to know if any oopsie Al Ghuls pop out of the woodwork before Ra's does, at the very least to try and prevent any more from getting indoctrinated into the League of Assassins.

I just feel like either one of these would really hammer home that Ra's line really is comprised of largely unaging immortals (if they have access to a Lazarus pit and want to), who's outer age doesn't really reflect their actual age at all.

WIth Mara and Jack being half siblings but also like 40+ years apart in age, or Maddie being Nyssa's great great granddaughter but looking basically the same age.

Because DC's never really pushes that when it comes to Ra's. Sure all of his kids are adults, but all of them are also seem to be frozen between the ages of like 30 to 50 years old, with Ra's himself looking around 70-ish, and then all of his grandkids (who we get to see) are literal children.

So if you were to take a family picture of Ra's and the descendants (who matter and) we get to see in the comics, it would just look like a normal family portrait or family tree. The grandparent looks 20-30 years older then the Parents/Aunt/Uncle generation, who looks 20-30 years older than the child generation.

Like I just feel there should be more family line fuckery going on with the Al Ghul family than there is in canon.

Or hell you could make Jack or Maddie Talia's kid if you go with the really old canon of Talia also actually being a lot older but using the Lazarus Pits to stay physically young. I think she's like 150 in that continuity but using the pits to stay in her 30s or so.

Then you could just have Jazz or Danny show up and Damian introduce them to the Batfam as his niece and nephew, played best with Damian being around ten, but Danny and Jazz in their late teens or even early 20s.

[kaisa-ryo]

— who apologises first during an argument?

jujutsu kaisen

characters: itadori yuji, megumi fushiguro, satoru gojo, inumaki toge, sukuna ryōmen

tw: english isn’t my native language! + this is my very, very old work, so there may be mistakes or complete nonsense :)

Itadori Yuji

It's obvious: Itadori. It's not that he thinks he's wrong, but... he feels bad inside. He would, too. He thinks that a girl's delicate heart is worth more than his pride. Bitter as it may be, he's probably right. The moment he decides which is more important, he remembers a saying he heard once from a respected person: "There's only one absolute value in the world, and that's the soul—in the truest sense of the word." That was his grandfather. Maybe he wasn't like that himself, but he clearly wanted his grandson to be like that.

Itadori thought that repentance comes when you stop wanting things to be a certain way, and realized he actually wasn't very sorry. On the contrary, he felt even more guilty. Even the fact that he's an adult, that he controls everything and knows his goal, it was hard for him to accept. This pressure increases when he realizes that he might accidentally release Sukuna in a fit of anger. And we all know how easily he can ruin everything.

But from the outside, it looks much funnier — Yuji looks at you with puppy-dog eyes and begs her to go with him to another boring movie tomorrow. But in reality, this is just a mechanical reaction to the childish imitation of an adult male instinct, an attempt to extinguish his own inner protest and find a convenient alternative. Still, Itadori realized that's pretty much how all adult wolves behave — by imitating children.

"Please, y/n, let's go see the second part of 'Man-Moth' tomorrow," the guy whined softly. "I really want to see it... Maybe you'll eat something? Have some pineapple?"

Itadori Yuji is a prime example of a big child in a relationship.

Satoru Gojo

This blond stubborn clod is all muddled and unbearable. He only apologizes when he has something in mind. But how often does that something appear in the mind of a person who constantly behaves like a dummy who can't tell himself anything smart or important, because he's afraid to interrupt the thoughtful, time free of petty concerns? Anything he says turns out to be a mere repetition of the same gestures.

"It's your fault. You could've kept quiet, and that's it. You're nice to her, and she's nice to you," Satoru mumbled, smiling skeptically and cleaning up after another serving of ramen.

"What do you know about people, Gojo!" you replied with a pained grimace, looking at the man's peaceful face, which she accidentally caught with one of her non-verbal scans, during which he, opening one eye, looked at her with bewilderment.

"I understand everything, y/n, everything," Satoru mumbled, putting the plate in the sink, "You just don't want to think that you can't trust people at all. And I understand you on that."

Yes, after all these words, he won't even come and hug you, but even without hugs, it gets easier, and you don't get so angry at him anymore. It's not every day you hear words of understanding from your beloved eternal child. Especially during arguments, these words become a real treasure. So it's precisely these insightful speeches that are the most sacred. Because he doesn't talk to anyone else like that. And you knows this perfectly well.

Megumi Fushiguro

Oh dear, he's so sure he's right that he almost never sees beyond his nose. But he's a great listener.

Whenever you try to tell him through tears that he's wrong, he just sits there in silence, looks at you, and smiles as if you're giving him compliments. And it usually doesn't end with him just looking at your eyelashes; it continues with a whole mix of eye movements to his ears and back. After a long monologue, you suddenly stop talking and feel that he isn't listening at all.

"So, are you finished?"

he asks. You nod, feeling that you're about to cry. Then he raises his eyes to you and looks at you with a long, attentive look. There's no meaning in his eyes. And in general, this is the look not of a living person, but rather of a robot.

Inumaki Toge

He doesn't seem to be reading anything at all. You stop mid-sentence, and your emotions pour out in a sigh, through your sobs. He doesn't say anything, he just looks at you, and you feel like he's simply pausing. You don't know what he's trying to say, but you try to apologize, although it's completely pointless. He quietly gets up from the table and approaches you. You feel the warmth of his hand touching you - and you know he's going to try to comfort you now. But instead, he starts some strange movement with his fingers in front of your face. You feel something very much like a tickle. Then he brings his fingers to your face and begins to gently wipe away the trails of tears. You flinch in surprise, and he begins to smile.

Of course, you have this kind of relationship, where your heart beats somewhere in the background, but you can't tell him about it because both of you, in your minds, remain in another reality. For you, it's a fleeting emotional experience, for him it's an eternity.

This sweet, reserved young man never allows himself to lose control of his emotions or to imagine himself as a heartless animal who would deny that you are hurting and uncomfortable. No, he just waits for your happy exclamation, followed by the long-awaited touch of his hands and lips to yours. And here the most important thing is that your dear one remains within the framework of conventions. Otherwise, you won't see how he risks everything.

And most importantly, he will never allow himself to use his magic on you at such moments. Never in a million years. No.

Besides, you can't resist his innocence yourself, even though he's far from a child in reality. The next time your sweetheart decides to make an open declaration of love, don't be afraid to understand him and accept, because he openly and honestly talks about his feelings, and doesn't hide them under a veil of lies. After all, he knows how you feel about him, and he's incredibly happy that you'll never reject his revelations.

Ultimately, whether out of fear of being under his control, or out of pity for him, you're the one who has to apologize.

- Tuna...

- God, how can I even be mad at you?! - you exclaimed indignantly, realizing that you had been acting like a real possessive person all this time. - Why can't you just say "yes" simply and clearly?

- Salmon!

Sukuna Ryōmen

You.

Firstly: why do you think a powerful demon is obliged to apologize to you?

Secondly: who are you to accuse him of anything?

Simply put, you apologize to him not out of conscience, but out of the thought that it would be good if he would back off and stop ruining your life in the most disgusting ways. If you know that he doesn't really hear you, but only experiences the state he's in when he utters the simplest and most vulgar phrases, then you can say nothing at all. But if you feel that he's saying the very words you really need, you're not apologizing, you're convincing yourself that he couldn't have acted any other way. You can consider this a rational use of free will. Just like you do homework in geometry.

Otherwise, he'll just throw insults around until he hears the words of remorse from your lips.

Putting on headphones, abstracting yourself from the outside world, you began to cry quietly into the pillow, either from the realization that you were dating such a disgusting animal, or from the realization of your helplessness before him. During this emotional break, you carefully analyzed everything related to Sukuna and your relationship, as if trying to find some reason for your unhappiness. Suddenly, when you were ready to burst into tears, you felt the presence of the only demon you knew at the entrance to the room.

- God, you're such a pathetic creature! - his voice was full of indifference and disgust. - I'm starting to understand why you were a virgin before me.

How his narcissistic ambition annoyed you. How you wanted to hit him, to suffocate him with a pillow.