#it's about birth names being awkward burdens

[septimusheapheadcanons]

just rotating in my mind the concepts of names and identity with beetle and marwick. you guys have no idea how insane i can get about this and when i can actually put together a coherent analysis. Then You'll See <3

[theemissuniverse]

“MAN UP” RAIDEN X FLIRTY!READER

SUMMARY : You flirt with Raiden all the time but he’s to shy to do anything about it. You are part on the Lin Kuei. Your power is Poison Ivy and you wear all red

WARNING : MATURE MINORS DONT INTERACT. soft!dom, slight breeding, “good boy”, slight dirty talk

Kung Lao wanted nothing more than to smack the shit out of Raiden. Raiden would miss his chance with you every single time you delivered it on a silver platter. Sometimes it could be questionable on what you would mean but most of the time you would downright flirt with him and it would go over his head every time.

It wasn’t just Kung Lao that was annoyed, it was Johnny Cage and even Kenshi. They could all not believe Raiden was that clueless you were flirting with him.

They also couldn’t believe you were even flirting with him. You were waaay out of Raiden’s league. Completely. You were a powerful warrior from the Lin Kuei with your power being able to control the poison and other powers. There was no way you were actually flirting with Raiden of all people.

But you were. There was something about Raiden that pulled you to him. He wasn’t like most guys. He respected you to the fullest and admired how good at fighting you really were. You loved when men admired you.

Raiden did have a crush on you from his months being with the monks, training for the tournament. He found you unlike any woman he had ever met. However, he himself felt as if he was out of your league.

You watched Raiden as he defeated all the monks at one time. Your eyes widen. That was impressive. I mean, you weren’t expecting that. That made you want Raiden even more.

After Raiden bowed to the monks, they started to walk away. You took it as your opportunity to walk over to him. “Okay, hotshot. That was good.”

Raiden turned to you. Immediately butterflies were erupting from his stomach but he ignored them and gave you a smile. “I try. I haven’t seen you in a minute, Poison Ivy.”

You chuckled at the name you had been given since birth. “Please, Raiden. You know you can call me (Y/N).” You close the distance between you two. “Help me stretch?” You didn’t bother to wait for a response. You hoisted your leg over his shoulder and stood there on your other.

Raiden didn’t know why he was impressed with your flexibility but he smiled none the less. He obviously wasn’t going to say it out loud but your leg over him gave him a very dirty scenario and he practically cursed at himself for even thinking of you in that way. “Sure. So, what have you been up to?”

The truth is you had been searching for your father. Your mother died at a young age and you had been in the Lin Kuei ever since but you didn’t want to burden Raiden with your family problems. “Thinking about you.”

Usually your flirting would go over Raiden’s head. Now, he had finally caught it in real time and he was the least bit prepared for it.

He couldn’t understand why you would want to even flirt with him. He wasn’t anything special. You were worth so much more than him.

When he looked over your shoulder, he had seen Kung Lao, Johnny, and Kenshi in hearing distance behind you. They were motioning him to go for it. It looked like Kung Lao was about to pop a blood vessel if he didn’t make a move.

He sucked it up. I mean, what was the worse that could happened? You were already flirting with him. “I think about you too.”

You were kind of taken aback at this. Raiden never had flirted back. It was part of your game but maybe he was done playing and wanted to give in. “Oh really?” You switched your leg to come in contact with his shoulder and gave your other one a rest by standing on it. “What do you think about?”

‘Abort! Abort! Abort!’ Was all that was running through Raiden’s mind but he was in too deep. If he back peddled right now it would be severely awkward. “What do you think I think about?”

Your hands feel up against his chest. They travel down all the way to his stomach. You do this in a continuous motion, not looking in his eyes. “You want to know what I think?”

“Enlighten me.”

“I think…” You put your leg down. You grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips. “You want me in the dirtiest way imaginable but you’re too scared that I’ll reject you.”

That was exactly what Raiden was thinking. He wasn’t a very prideful man but he was a man at the end of the day and he did not want to admit this. When he looked over your shoulder he once again saw the gang telling him to keep going. The only difference was that Johnny Cage made a motion to his neck “slitting” his own throat with his thumb as of to say to Raiden that if he didn’t go for it that he would end him.

Raiden focused his attention back on you. “That could be.”

You leaned in closer, your lips were almost touching. You looked deep in his eyes but you had to look up at his slightly since he was taller than you. “Don’t play with me, Raiden.”

“I would never.”

You let out a chuckle. You back away slightly. “Just remember. You asked for this.”

Raiden didn’t quite understand what you meant by that. That’s when he watched green smoke surround the two of you. He closed his eyes out of instinct.

When Raiden opened his eyes, he realized he was in a room. You had teleported him to your room in your home. He didn’t see you though. “(Y/N)?”

You teleported behind him. He felt your presence and he turned around. You didn’t say anything. You just walked up to him and kissed him.

Raiden was only slightly surprised by this. It made him have enough time to kiss you back. He cupped your face with his left hand and his right was on your waist.

He kissed with passion and thirst. Like he had been waiting forever for this moment. You kissed him back just the same.

You pulled away and then shoved him on the bed. He landed on it looking at you in awe. You used your powers to make yourself invisible for a moment.

Raiden looked around confused to where you could’ve went. He was about to call your name but you appeared again standing in front of him. This time you were wearing your red lingerie set.

His mouth was watering. He didn’t know he wanted you this bad. He felt his dick grow bigger and out of instinct, felt embarrassed.

You sat on top of him and pulled him in a sloppy kiss. While you two kissed, you took off his hat and threw it somewhere in the room. Raiden placed his hands on your hips while yours were on his neck.

This was it. He was finally having you. There just was one slight problem.

“(Y/N).” He said in the kiss. You didn’t care what he had to say, you kept kissing him. “I don’t really have that much experience.” Raiden wasn’t a virgin but he had only slept with two women in his life. He was not skilled by any means.

You pulled away from his lips. You looked deep in his eyes to make sure he was understanding what you were saying. “You really think that matters to me?” You unclipped your bra and tossed it on the bed, revealing your breasts.

Raiden was in a trance. You were absolutely perfect by all definitions. He felt himself get even harder and you giggled because you could feel it.

You grabbed his hands and placed them on your breasts. You encouraged him to play with him and he did. When he did, he made sure to play with your nipples which caused you to let out light moans.

You pulled the shirt over Raiden’s head leaving him shirtless and went back to kissing him.

Raiden didn’t want you to feel like you were doing all the work. He overpowered you and laid you at your side, continuing to kiss you. Then he did what you didn’t expect him to do.

He slipped his hand inside of your panties and played with your clit. You let out a sharp gasp and threw your head back.

Raiden took his chance to kiss your neck. He gave you sweet kisses on your neck before sucking on it. He rubbed your clit in circles at a nice steady speed.

You never had the pleasure of a man willingly playing with you. Usually you’d have to ask but Raiden was doing it like he’s always wanted to.

His lips went to your breasts and he kissed all over them. He took his time with each one. Then he sucked on the left nipple sweetly. This causes you to moan louder. “Oh. Raiden.”

Nothing made him turned on even more than you saying his name. It encouraged him to take the next step.

Raiden removed his fingers away from your swollen clit. He then took your underwear off slowly. Raiden then forced you to spread your legs and he started to eat you out.

He sucked your pussy like it was his favorite thing to eat. Your instincts were to pull on his hair which he didn’t seem to mind. “No experience my ass.” You said.

Raiden chuckled a little but continued to suck your clit. He licked all the parts that would make you squirm.

You rolled your eyes in the back of your head when you felt his tongue constantly lick your clit. It was the best thing in the entire world.

You didn’t want to cum like this though. You forced Raiden’s head up which he immediately stopped. “Did I do something wrong, love?”

The nickname gave you butterflies. You never had intimacy like this but this felt so personal. “No. I just want you.”

Raiden understood what you meant. And he wanted you too. “I don’t have anything.”

“It’s fine.” You pulled Raiden in for a kiss and he gladly kissed back. As you two kissed, you started to pull off Raiden’s bottoms.

Raiden broke away from the kiss and he pulled them off along with his underwear. That’s when you raised your eyebrows in shock. You were not expecting Raiden to be that big. “Is that suppose to fit in me?”

You could tell that made him flustered. He covered his face but you removed it and gave him a kiss.

Raiden allowed you to flip him over. You wanted to be on top. You wanted to show him how much you had wanted him.

You slid carefully on his dick. You internally thanked him that he had did foreplay as he was so big, he stretched you out.

Raiden grabbed your hips at the pleasure of you sinking down on him. You didn’t even give him a chance. You immediately started to move on him.

You started with a slow speed so you could get the hang of it. Raiden was not quiet at all and felt like putty in your hands.

Your hands rested on his chest. You began to move faster on him. “Oh, (Y/N). Yes.”

You wanted to mess with him. You took his hand off of you. “You’re not allowed to touch.”

Now that was impossible. Him? Not touch you? “But I-“

You silenced him with a quick kiss before pulling away. “Be a good boy and maybe I’ll let you.”

Raiden never had sex like this. The last two times he would have to be dominant. (Which he wasn’t the best at.) So he wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t complaining though.

You continued to bounce up and down on him. Raiden placed his hands behind his head to prevent him from touching you. “(Y/N). It feels so good.”

Your hands rubbed all over his chest. He was so attractive like this. You figured Raiden was the submissive type. “Aw, like this baby?”

“Please don’t stop.” Raiden had the instinct to grab you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t just not do anything though. He started to fuck up into your pussy.

You were startled by this and let out a yelp. “Raiden!” The pleasure was so good that you could barley move on your own.

Raiden noticed this and ignored your orders. He gripped your waist and helped you ride him which you didn’t object.

He hissed at your pussy clenching on him. “(Y/N). Let me get on top.”

You didn’t argue with him. He laid you down on the bed and entered your pussy like it was nothing. He went even faster than you did. “Oh god.” You yelled out.

“You look so good like this.” Raiden told you. His fingers found your clit and he rubbed it in circles as he fucked you.

You never felt this overwhelming pleasure before. It excited you that Raiden could make you feel like this. Your nails dug deep in his biceps but he didn’t let up. He continued to move in your pussy like his life depended on it.

“Tell me I’m yours.” He whispered in your ear.

Oh god you didn’t think he could get any hotter. “You’re mine, Raiden. All mine.”

Raiden kissed your lips lightly. The kiss told a thousand words.

Him playing with your clit and fucking your pussy was more than overwhelming. “I can’t take it.”

“Yes you can. You’re doing so good.” Raiden didn’t let up from your clit. He instead kissed your neck like you were Heaven.

Tears were in your eyes. Raiden removed his lips from your neck and looked you in the eyes. He kissed your tears away. He knew you were enjoying it, you were just overstimulated.

Raiden felt the knot in his chest. He was close. Very close but that didn’t matter if you weren’t close. He rubbed your clit just slightly faster.

He watched as your chest heaved up and down. This was amazing to him. The girl that was flirting with him over and over again, claiming to have a dominant personality was being so submissive to him.

He loved it.

Raiden watched your reactions to his change of pace. You muttered curses which made him want to cum even more. You started to hit his chest slightly. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Raiden please.”

He didn’t break his pace as he looked at you. “Yes, lovely?”

“Please let me cum. Please.”

“I would never deny you to.” Raiden stopped playing with your clit and continued to fuck you at the same pace. “I think I’m close too.”

“Do it in me. Please, please, please. I want it all inside me.” You said, playing with your breasts.

Raiden didn’t know if you meant it or if it was just the sex talk. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please. I want to cum together.”

Raiden felt his release close. Too close. He didn’t want to do it though unless you did it either before him or at the same time. “(Y/N), I’m close.”

Your hands snakes up his neck. You would’ve pulled him closer to you if it were even possible. “Raiden. Yes. I’m cumming. Yes. Raiden. Yes.”

Raiden felt your release which triggered his. The two of you swore as he was riding your orgasms out.

Once the two of you were done, he lifted your chin for a sweet kiss. Then he pulled away and pulled out of you.

Raiden laid next to you. It was silent for some time. Not an uncomfortable silence. Just a normal silence. “You know…” Raiden started to speak. “For someone so dominant in personality- your quite submissive in bed.”

This made you grab a pillow and throw it at him and he laughed. “You’re terrible.”

Raiden pulled you in close to him. “Where does that leave us now?”

“Where do you want us to be?”

“I want to be with you.”

You smiled at his statement. You placed a kiss on his head. “Than you are with me.”

Kung Lao, Johnny Cage, and Kenshi all stood before Liu Kang. Liu Kang looked around confused slightly. Raiden was never late to training. “Where is Raiden?”

“Shacking up with Poison Ivy.” Johnny stated simply.

Kenshi checked his watch to look at the time. “It’s been forty five minutes.”

Kung Lao chuckled at the realization. “Oh he will never hear the end of this.”

The four heard a noise. They looked behind them to see that you and Raiden had teleported there. “Sorry, dad.” You started off jokingly to Liu Kang. “Had to borrow your fighter for…something.”

“Anyways. Bye.” You said. You winked at Raiden and disappeared from the area.

Raiden looked at his three friends that had smug faces. “What?”

They all gave each other the same look. Like they knew what they were all going to say. Then they turned back to Raiden and sung; “Ivy and Raiden sitting in a tree-“

Raiden rolled his eyes. “By the Gods…” He turned to his guide, Liu Kang. “Please make them stop.”

Liu Kang was about to tell them to knock it off until he had looked at Raiden’s neck. “Is that a hickey?”

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

The three of them continued to sing in the background while Raiden facepalmed himself. At least he finally got you.

[a-libra-writes]

could you do jon snow and robb stark w a sister reader? not like separate headcanons, like just the reader being ride or die besties with them their entire childhood. she's robb's younger twin sister? thank you!

I did my best ~ I love stuff like this, also it reminded me of one of my first pieces I posted 3 years ago ... man. A lot of stuff from there can also apply to this, but I try to not repeat myself.

The birth of the twins was a grand event in Winterfell, a huge spot of hope amongst the gloom of war. On his way home, Ned already had a heavy burden and grief to carry - and when he arrived to see not just one child, but two, he felt dizzy with worry, relief and happiness.

Naturally, the twins are positively doted on by by everyone in Winterfell, not just their parents. I like to think that while Robb inherited his mother's looks, his sister would be closer to a Stark. Ned would never give her the name of his beloved sister - the wound was too fresh - but perhaps his mother, or Catlyn's.

Beyond that, you can't remember a time that Robb was not at your side and Jon wasn't right by his. Jon was always just there, just as your twin was. You didn't understand why he was disliked, why he was your father's but not your mother's. It was something no one wanted to explain to you, yet they expected you to follow unspoken rules regarding how to treat him. Your lady mother, who was nothing but adoring of you, would become more closed-off and cold when you played with him.

The three of you are a trio around Winterfell, well-known and well-liked. Your personality determines the dynamic of this group; if you're more outgoing and tomboyish, it's usually you and Robb always competing. Jon is the quieter, mediating personality, often having to be the "go between" when you and Robb fight. Not that you and your twin stay angry for long; you've never gone more than a day before apologizing. If you're the more introverted and quiet type, it's you and Jon following Robb's lead, him playing the "lord" while you and Jon pretend to be loyal knights. Having a more sociable and clever personality would make up for the boy's collective awkwardness and lack of intrigue, and they'd often look to you in new social situations, especially as the three of you grew older. Being more shy or nervous leads to both boys being incredibly protective of you, willing to throw down with anyone attempting to mock you.

(While no one would dare mock Robb, the future Lord Stark, Jon and even you are not so lucky. It doesn't take long before you all realize the insult that "bastard" carries, and by being a girl, you are also lesser. More than once the boys have had to drag you off some kid who was throwing insults.)

No matter what, the three of you have a tight bond that leads you to protecting each other. Between you and Jon, there was always this unspoken rule of protecting Robb above yourselves - maybe not just because he was meant to be Lord, but some odd, nagging feeling that he may need it some day.

The older you become, you're expected to be a lady who doesn't run around with boys in the mud or the forest. If you're the sort who wants to ride horses and go hunting with the others and play swords with Jon and Robb, well ... it's very difficult for Ned to deny you anything, though your mother has plenty of scoldings, worrying about what sort of lady you'll turn out to be.

This is especially true when Theon arrives, as Catlyn would not want an Ironborn captive associating so closely with her eldest daughter. Robb lets him into the circle first, so you and Jon follow suit. Theon doesn't always hang around the three of you - he doesn't begin to think that he'll ever be part of that bond, and on the days he misses his family most, it stings. Still, it's hard to keep his usual biting remarks when Robb, you and Jon are willing to include him.

(He most certainly gets a crush on you and handles it in the most awkward, annoying way a teenage boy can. Jon notices it right away and Robb is clueless.)

Sansa and Arya are incredibly fond of you, and your mother certainly encouraged you to set a good example for your little sisters and take on some caretaking duties when they were much younger. They go to you for comfort, and drag you away from the boys so you might play with them instead. If you're more tomboyish, it's likely Arya is closer to you and she feels less alone about her "strangeness"; while if you're more ladylike, Sansa admires you as much as Catlyn and often follows you around like a duckling. Striking a balance between the two means you're the best to play peacekeeper when your sisters get into spats.

By the time you and Robb are nearly considered "grown" by Westerosi standards, you're the confidant of Robb and Jon, and they're the same for you. You three often discuss your futures, either with hope or trepidation. The fact you'd have to be apart from them, to go off and marry some lord like a proper lady ought to do - even if it may be the future king of Westeros - was a constant worry. Then there was your father's increasingly sorrowful looks when he looked to you, haunted by old memories you were never told in full ...

[daeguzen]

Son of Hades

PAIRING | p.js x g.n reader x ft. taeyong

GENRE | angst fluff

WORD COUNT | 12.8k

NOTE | this has been rotting away in my wip for more than a year. endings is a little rushed but I hope it’s okay enough.

WARNING | depictions of parental abuse, bullying, and character death

SONG | welcome to the show - dpr ian

SUMMARY | Park Jisung had always been quiet about his godly parentage especially because of his powers still trying to adjust to his body after years of living in the underworld.  His only friends were Zhong Chenle and his partner from the Hephaestus group. Somehow, Jisung stumbles in your path and wonders if the blush on his face is as noticeable as he feels it to be. You find yourself caught in a whirlwind of shy glances, pretty smiles, and awkward greetings that make Jisung wonder if you feel just as he does. His heart breaks a bit knowing your Y/N, Artemis’ greatest hunter. Not only that but he feels a strange presence attach itself to him. He wonders if you’ll remain loyal to your oath or if he could become the one you’d leave it for.

The world taught children to fear the monster under their bed. To quiver with unspeakable fear or to scream their throat raw to be saved. It didn’t matter what it was or what form it took, repulsion clawed its way up. The monster was to be feared and rejected. However, the little boy who had no one to turn to had become well acquainted with the monster. Its name was Suffering and it curled itself deep within the boy's chest, rested there, and snarled at any attempts of riddance.

The child was not like any other. Even among his kind he considered himself an outcast. Humankind would call it a power, demigods a gift, but for Park Jisung it was a burden. Perhaps if he had been born as a mere mortal he could have had a chance at a normal life. But his dealings with all he came to know were as his bloodline meant for it to be. Suffering was simply a byproduct of his upbringing.

It is said that children born of Kronos’ eldest son had to accept a life of sadness and pain. It was a curse to be related to the King of a dreadful realm. People feared having to be judged for all their doings and having to be assorted. As much as the King would have liked for people not to dislike him so, he knew it was futile. He was no god of skies, oceans, or music. He was Hades, King of the Underworld and would remain so for all eternity.

Overtime, these feelings became trivial. Hades had accepted the role he had to play among the Greek gods. If anything, he rather enjoyed being away from all the dramatic antics of his brothers. He also preferred the stronger ratio of monochromatic colors compared to the blinding golden swirls of Olympus. Contrary to popular belief of mortals, the Underworld was not visually horrifying. Those tortured souls that screamed in agony were sealed to Tartarus alone. In the same sense, the happy and joyful voices remained in Elysium.

Every day had felt the same to Hades until the birth of his son, Park Jisung. He knew that his parental skills were not perfect and lacked in certain aspects. His godliness did not immediately assume perfection. However, that had not stopped him from trying. Years ago he had a son who taught him a great deal about being a proper father. He would be ashamed to let the child know he had repeated his mistakes. Alas, it would always be trial and error when it came to humans.

The mortal identified as Park Eun was the mother who hardly tried to raise Jisung. In her youth she was a tempter,  a sin disguised as an embraceable beauty. Those who caught sight of her could testify that they had been drawn to her from the very first sight. They saw her as a pious woman. A loving heart with a gentle hand. It was why Hades searched for her believing she would be suitable to nurse his future son. Little did he know, that woman had no ounce of love for anyone but herself, much less any motherly instincts.

It began as a slow and formal courting. Hades had also a way of presenting his own charming qualities that instead of outweighing Eun’s own beauty, was unified with hers. The two of them standing alongside each other was a sight to behold. They were the object of everyone’s gossip, compliments, and jealousy. Eun had relished in this, holding her head high with immeasurable pleasure. Hades had only begun to observe this time after. When he realized her true self it was far too late, what seemed to be the ripe apple he had chosen was rotten from the inside.

Eventually, Hades had to reveal his true nature, knowing that she carried his son. When the truth came out, he saw the greed that shone in those hazel eyes. She wanted more, implored him to give her everything she dreamed of. But seeing his actions and responses to her made her believe that she was being confined to a “lesser” life than she deserved. The mansion, selections of jewelry, and expensive brands weren’t enough for her. She needed everything to fuel her grandiosity.

In her descent into madness she became another person entirely. One that was true to her selfish ambitions. The bright hazel eyes became dark and angry. Her luscious painted red lips mirrored a smeared and bloody mess. The graceful posture she once held curled into that of a taloned creature. 

Screaming ensued, matches that Hades would always end with silence though he knew all too well he lost. He could never win against her because it was his mistake for falling in her trap. Knowing he could no longer bear to stay at her side, he left to continue his godly duties as King of the Underworld. It tore at his heart when he had to accept that he could not take his son with him. Not yet at least.

The most Hades was able to do was hire a small staff to overlook the home, Eun and Jisung. At first, Eun avoided the baby at all times. She resorted to going out, losing herself in gambling and drugs. The mansion became less of a home and more of a prison. As the years went by she found a means to release her emotions in the form of her growing son. Jisung had been the spitting image of Hades with his black eyes and pale skin. He reminded his mother of the life and man she could no longer have. 

It was her greed and arrogance that caused her insanity. A woman who once glorified herself had become destructive. Everything she ever wished for came down all around her, Jisung being the only one who remained. She couldn’t stand looking at him. Especially when there was a trace of happiness on his face. Hades had taken away all she wanted to keep her content and so she retaliated by doing the same to him.

Jisung was much too young to remember the change in scenery. The limitations of food and basic necessities had become the norm he knew. In the little downtown that his mother forced them into, he had become a punching bag for all. He was scrawny, barely strong enough to stay awake after beatings from bullies. His mother had also taken to beating and verbally abusing him. As the older children simplified it, he was a waste of space.

~

It was all so…tiring. The beatings, judgments, harsh words, and cruelties. In the end, Jisung had sadly accepted that he was a burden, a punching bag that served to make others feel better. He didn’t process how inhumane it all was. A child who had only known darkness and nothing more. Jisung eventually thought it was okay because everyone else was sad and the only way to make them feel better was for him to take their sadness away, even if only temporarily.

Jisung felt that although his mother constantly committed atrocities towards him, he had to love her. She was his mother after all, the one who brought him into this world. She was the only family he had known. Besides that, all the storybooks at his school depicted the relationship of a son always loving his mother. It never did quite display what he was used to but he knew better  than to question anything. However, it was at the tender age of ten that Eun did something that shattered any ounce of respect Jisung tried to hold..

In those horrid years, Jisung’s only source of true happiness were visits to his grandfather’s home. The man had doted on Jisung, rightfully leaving him starved for more affection. Whenever Jisung would close his eyes years later, he could remember the thin fingers that ruffled his hair adoringly. It wasn’t often that Jisung would visit but when his mother decided to go he was allowed to accompany her. Of course, he knew why his mother would let him tag along. Shamelessly she would beg for money, giving excuses of not having enough to maintain and feed her little boy. Embarrassingly enough both child and grandfather knew better.

Eun was the woman he had tried to raise and steer to the right path. A man of his age should have not felt the overwhelming anger that surged at the sight of the broken family. He knew of the father who had left. He couldn’t blame him entirely for not being able to stand Eun but he could never forgive him for leaving his grandson to fend for himself.

Jisung’s grandfather could not sit idly as she begged for  things he knew would never land in the boy's hands. This was how Jisung learned to hide things extremely well from his mother at a certain point in his life. His grandfather was adamant when he explained how any bits of money he’d give him could not be seen by Eun under any circumstance. Jisung had respected his grandfather greatly and listened well to his words. It remained their little secret that had never reached the light.

Eun would sometimes curse her father for not caring enough and he would blatantly tell her that Jisung should be in his care. Just as she did with Hades, she would not allow anyone else to take Jisung to spite them all. She needed her little punching bag; if she couldn’t be happy anymore neither could her son.

The broken relationship between mother and son took its final course after Jisung’s grandfather died. He had passed away peacefully in his sleep. Jisung had heard it from his mother after she locked herself in her room for a few days. He remembered the instant denial. Tiny hands clutching painfully at the edges of his worn out shirt. He couldn’t believe it at first. It couldn’t possibly be true. Not his grandfather of all people. In that moment, through all the choked sobs, he had a sickening thought he never dared to tell anyone. He wished that his mother had been the one that died that night.

Jisung was distraught, confused, and in pain. He cried for long hours and barely ate. He avoided his mother at all costs  because she couldn’t make him feel better. He knew his mother was upset too. He had never witnessed another time in his life where his mother genuinely felt anything for anyone other than herself. He almost thought it impossible but was surprisingly proven wrong.

It had all happened slowly and silently on a cloudy evening. Hazel eyes that Jisung could only remember as angry were filled with sadness and remorse. He could see her silver dyed hair swept to one side of her face. The porcelain doll under the rising moon was what she reflected. They sat together, for the first time, in front of his grandfather's gravestone. It was the only place his mother bothered keeping clean and regularly changed the flowers. 

Jisung wondered why people felt so sad all the time. Truthfully, he was getting tired of feeling it. He felt an unbearable emptiness inside of himself. Something incurable. He wondered what would bring his mother happiness. If he could see inside her mind, he would learn that all she dreamed of was fame, richess, and everlasting beauty. Jisung offered nothing in comparison.

But perhaps contradiction was a characteristic that was in her genetics. As much as she claimed to hate and abhor the child she had given birth to, she couldn’t help but remember whose eyes those belonged to. At another time, Jisung could have sworn he saw a flicker of guilt in those cold eyes. He couldn’t have been quite sure, it wasn’t an emotion he could imagine his mother being acquainted with.

It felt strange the way she reached out to him, gesturing for him to comfortably sit on her lap. It was awkward but he couldn’t complain as her delicate fingers threaded themselves through his hair like grandfather would do. It was the first time she had let him embrace her. Her chin rested upon his head and his ear laid softly in her chest, listening to the gentle beating of her existing heart.

He couldn’t remember for how long they stayed like that, only that he had fallen asleep. When he woke up on the cold ground, his backpack and teddy bear perched on top of it, he panicked. His mother was nowhere to be seen. He called out to her once, then twice, and finally screamed until his throat felt raw. Among humans in a world so vast, they could all feel agony. They knew what it was to be afraid. But it was nothing compared to the innocent child whose face scrunched up in wild fear and hurt. Tears staining his face endlessly, hiccups loud for those to hear, hands bunched up in small fists, and sobs of a mother that would no longer hear him.

He was silenced at the sound of strange whispers that rose all around him. Opening his swollen eyes, blinking his surroundings into clarity, he saw a terrifying sight. Ghosts, shadows, skeletons, people with rotting flesh, all rising from their graves. Hands protruded from the ground, clawing out in a desperate need to escape. Jisung felt the feeling of throwing up that threatened to rise in him. He screamed louder, curling into a fetal position on his grandfather's grave. He couldn’t think about anything besides the fact that no one would realize he would be dead at the hands of the mangled corpses. For a while, he stayed there shaking terribly. He couldn’t hear anything at one point and when he opened his eyes he saw the figure of a man, flesh falling apart, body void of blood, bones protruding, and empty eye sockets staring down at him. He passed out from the shock.

~

When Jisung had woken up again he was in a bed that engulfed his small frame and was covered in black silk sheets. He couldn’t make out where he was or how he had gotten there. Blinking away his drowsiness he started to notice that the room was nothing compared to his shabby home. The room alone made up his entire apartment. 

On the opposite of where he had been resting was a long six drawer dresser. A square mirror hung above it, his reflection staring back. He looked away immediately, avoiding his puffy and swollen eyes. Looking around the rest of the room Jisung noticed very minimal decor with what seemed to be kids toys grouped together in one corner. The only thing he could recognize was his backpack on the nightstand next to the bed and his teddy bear resting beside him. Before he could gather his things to escape the strange place he heard a knock on the door. 

Jisung wasn’t sure what to expect. He felt frightened at whatever or whoever was behind the door. When a man came into view, Jisung felt a strange sense of familiarity. But that had to be impossible, he’d never seen this man in his life. He would remember someone who looked as charming as his mother used to be.

The man's complexion was pale, raven hair that was tousled in a voluminous mess, the back of it sticking to his neck and the rest covering his ears and eyes partly. He wore black dress pants and a collared dress shirt. He seemed to be someone who could cause fear but enchant at the same time. Just like his mother. 

The biggest difference was the shy smile that graced his face as he stood by the door, not taking another step to avoid frightening the boy further. When his voice rang through the room Jisung was surprised to hear the softness that contrasted his cold appearance.

“Do you recognize me Jisung?” Jisung shook his head and observed the sad sigh that escaped the man in what seemed like a vague look of disappointment.

“Has your mother ever told you about me?” Jisung didn’t hesitate when, once again, he gestured a simple no. He pondered the question for a bit, curious as to who this person was. What relation did this man have to his mother? Was he going to harm him too?  The man fidgeted awkwardly in his position, not knowing how to move forward but having to resolve the situation in some way.

“My name is Hades. I’m your father,” Hades didn’t know how Jisung would react. He wasn’t really sure there was a way to ease a child into a reveal like that. But he could see a recognition in Jisung’s eyes, the tears that welled, and his trembling lips forming the words he longed to hear.

“F-father?”

Hades’ gaze softened, walking up to the boy. Albeit slowly at first with hesitance but then clumsily did the boy stumble into his father’s arms in his haste. Hades let out a small grunt at the sudden attack and wrapped his arms securely around Jisung who dug his head deeper into his fathers chest. Hades let his cheek rest upon Jisung’s head, rocking him back and forth like a baby. He cooed at him, whispering words that reassured him that he was safe and most importantly, that he had someone who loved him.

~

Two years after being reunited with his father, Jisung had grown comfortable living in the Underworld. He learned a lot during the time he bonded with Hades. All the tales of gods, demigods, and other mythological creatures of Greek culture. When he turned twelve, Hades spoke to him about attending the Academy for Demigods. It was a place where all demigod children learned in more depth about their history and honed in their powers and skills. It was a rather prestigious school but it was also a home.

It was a great opportunity for Jisung. Especially at that time when he had learned to get past the intense fear he used to feel. His development changed for the better. He went from being malnourished and scrawny to a healthy person with renewed childness. Jisung would always understand sadness and pain in the world. But it didn’t dictate his life anymore. He was now free to be happy and engage in a better lifestyle.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t feel nervous starting school, he panicked a bit wondering what would happen. He didn’t know if he’d be able to make friends or if people would want to approach him with ill intentions. He was delighted to find out that no one paid any attention to him. Everyone went on about their business and he preferred it that way. However, he did appreciate the welcome from another student named Zhong Chenle. 

Apparently, Hades had asked Hermes to have one of his sons guide Jisung during his time at the academy. He quickly recognized the playful and mischievous glint in his eyes but it seemed to dissipate as Jisung introduced himself. He garnered his affection rather quickly and soon enough the boys had become attached at the hip. Although he was disappointed that Chenle liked to mess around with people, he knew he was just like him. Chenle had gone through events in his life that shaped his view on the world. Just as Jisung’s views were changed by his childhood.

~

In his first few years nothing crazy happened. Jisung demonstrated to be studious in his classes. However, his strength was very average compared to other students. This was when the invisibility started to wear off and students took note of his skills. He took a long time to manage a sword decently. His reflexes were a bit slow as well. Sometimes he’d trip over his own feet and fall clumsily. There were students, mostly from Ares and Aphrodite’s side, that would laugh and mock him for not being able to hold himself up in a fight. He was a pitiful sight to behold in the eyes of his peers. A demigod who hasn’t been claimed and couldn’t keep up in a duel wasn’t much of a demigod to others. 

Jisung had ignored them all. He knew who his father was, there was no need to make a grand show of being claimed. They weren’t worth his efforts or worry. He continued on with his life as he always had to. Some time after, Jisung realized no one stepped up to mock him, people ignored his gaze. He had a feeling it had something to do with Chenle but he didn’t question it. Still, even if they didn’t have the courage to say it in his face they did do it behind his back. Or at least tried to.

Years of training did help him but he wasn’t up to par with the well skilled students. Sometimes he’d watch Chenle spar with others and look at him in awe. Chenle knew what his opponent was thinking. He seemed to know where they would step, jab, or turn. He was too fast, sneaky, and dangerous. Even the Ares children had become frustrated with him always winning. Of course, Chenle lost his fair share of fights but it didn’t outweigh his wins in the slightest. In times like those, Jisung wished he could relate.

It wasn’t until he turned seventeen that his power started to slowly manifest itself in him. It began with a small shadow of someone's silhouette that moved across his wall. He wasn’t surprised when the shadow took the form of a ghost. When the black faded away from the silhouette, disappearing at its feet, he saw a boy around his age. He blinked at Jisung, a small smile stretching on his small face. 

“Ah, you can finally see me. You are the young prince of the Underworld. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Jisung felt strange at the title. Nevertheless, he stood up from his relaxed position on his bunk and walked closer to the ghost in front of him. He seemed young, too young to be dead. But Jisung knew death did not discriminate. It took anyone whose time was at its end.

“You don’t need to refer to me as such. You know who I am but I don’t know who you are?”

“My name is Shotaro. I was a student here some time ago. I can’t remember. Time after death doesn’t really exist. At least I don’t feel like it does. Well, that aside, there has been talk about your presence. It has been a very long time since another child of Hades was born. The Underworld has felt the awakening of your power.”

“It feels strange that you know so much about me.” Jisung put his hand behind his neck, rubbing at it shyly and awkwardly. Shotaro looks at him, nervous at having made the boy feel negatively.

“Yes, I know a bit of how this functions with demigods born from Hades. I have been around, hearing whispers. Your powers have been strangely dormant since you were born. But then they got better as you practiced. You have lived in the Underworld for some time and you have been trying to adjust to the mortal realm.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Awakening?” Jisung pondered that for a bit.

“Don’t worry, it’s just that you know more about me and I don’t know anything about you.”

“Oh…well I’m Osaki Shotaro. Apollo is my father. I was very talented in music. I was a very quiet student, much like you are. I had a friend, his name is Sungchan,” Jisung could feel some of the pain emitting from the boy's emotions as his eyes avoided his, “We used to do everything together. Play games, pranks, study and so on. I got sick one day and never got better. It was rather a slow death, hours turning into days. Days into weeks and weeks turning to months. I died a year later. I watched Sungchan mourn me.” 

Jisung doesn’t say anything, gesturing for the boy to continue. Shotaro takes a breath before continuing.

“I’ve been watching over him since that day. I watched him get better but I can still see that look in his eye whenever he gets silent. He has a family now and he’s retired. I wish I could have said something.” 

“Do you want me to pass on a message?” Shotaro’s eyes widened, his hands shaking in a gesture that rejected the idea.

“I wouldn’t want to bother you with such trivial matters. I was just rambling.”

“Hey don’t worry about it. In fact, I should be able to make your presence apparent to Sungchan. Father taught me how to do it but I wasn’t able to try it without an amplifier of some sort.” Shotaro looked near tears as he watched the boy in front of him. His offer was kind and the ghost knew it would probably be some more time until he could see his dear friend. Softly he whispers to Jisung, “I would really appreciate that.” And Jisung reciprocated with a smile of his own.

~

Jisung’s time at the Academy was uneventful for the most part. But he enjoyed every moment of it. He had a friend, a father, even a stepmother who loved him. Persephone was a kind goddess. And a very rightful Queen for the throne. He finally had a family of his own and truly, he couldn’t have asked for more.

Along the way, he did make a friend besides Chenle. They were the child of Hephaestus. He fondly remembered the journey they took together. Triple H as Chenle would jokingly call them. They were strong, ferocious, and knew how to put Chenle in his place. Jisung never said anything but he knew there was something off about them in the beginning. If the lack of a heartbeat was anything to go by. All he could do was observe them during the quest.

Jisung’s body had been weak since birth. His demigod powers had not properly adjusted to his body especially with all the psychological and physical abuse he’d gone through. It wasn’t until he started living in the Underworld that he had the opportunity to become stronger. He practiced all that his father taught him. Unbeknownst to him, his power had not reached its full potential. The time at the graveyard was a small power surge from the psychological overload. 

During his time in the Underworld his powers kept growing. But as soon as he went back to the mortal realm his powers were harder to bring forth. This explained Jisung’s clumsiness and lack of stability in his fighting. It was as if the difference in the mortal realm was weighing down on him.

However, he was able to at least function enough to be a useful asset during the quest. Especially with his shadow travel. That was always fun to him but it drained him a little more quickly. But his power was enough to get Cerberus out of the cave Jungwoo had him in. Just remembering his name made him feel unusually angry. All that he made Chenle and his friend suffer was unforgivable. He could still visually see the pain in Chenle’s eyes when he walked through his father’s mansion, his friend’s arms and head dangling. 

He knew what death was and although he couldn’t feel their heartbeat, he could understand the empty corpse that Chenle had in his arms. If he’d ask Hades to do something about the situation he knew his father would accept. But for the second time in Jisung’s life, Hades had denied him this. He argued with him for the first time. Hades had shut down his request almost immediately. It was after a moment of silence that Hades let the tension go, his hands limp at his sides.

Jisung, that demigod was not born of nature. That is one of Hephaestus’ many creations. I cannot bring life to them because they have no soul that I can place in their body. I would make this exception for you but I physically cannot do it. Hephaestus will help him. Do not worry yourself too much, death is only the beginning of another life here. You know this. In their case, they will walk among the living once again.

Still, Jisung felt upset and hurt at the turn of events. But it was later on that it became known of their return to campus. Their first stop was the Hephaestus workshops, a place where Chenle had found himself withering away day after day. Apparently, Chenle had almost lost his mind when he saw them, thinking they were a figment of his imagination. But it had been true, Hephaestus had fulfilled his deal and the friendly trio was restored.

Jisung was happy again. He was doing better with his life and he was grateful. It was all well again until he nearly got skewered with an arrow by you.

~

“For the love of the gods!” Jisung screamed, stumbling backwards and falling onto the ground with a pained grunt. His hands flew to his face and then his heart as he tried to calm down from the arrow that nearly left him lodged into a tree. His wild eyes looked around and then up to the person standing some feet away from him.

“Idiot…you…any idea…blind…” Jisung couldn’t process the words coming out of the person's mouth. They were blurred as the whistle of the arrow and his raging heart beat deafened his ears. He blinked a couple of times and then looked up again. 

“Hey idiot! Are you even listening to me? Are you so blind that you’d fail to notice an archer right in front of you!?” 

“Who…who are you?” You look at him, scoffing at his question. 

You mutter under your breath, “unbelievable.” You grabbed him by his wrist and pulled him up much to his surprise.

“What does it matter to you?” Jisung was frankly starting to get annoyed at your attitude. His previous fear slowly morphs into a frown.

“It was just a question. I think you’d at least owe that much for almost killing me.”

“Well, if you had been looking where you were going instead of aimlessly wandering about with your head in the skies, maybe you wouldn’t have walked in my way.” Jisung wanted to throw something back but as soon as he opened his mouth, he realized you weren’t wrong. Entirely at least.

“W-well, you’re not supposed to be here! This is the academy’s forest training ground. It’s closed to outsiders.” That makes you scoff yet again.

“Dreaded academy. Confining yourselves to that little institution.” Jisung does take offense to that.

“It’s not dreaded…it’s a nice place.”

“You seem to be convincing yourself and not me.” Jisung gave a small pout which made you scrunch your face in disgust. You start walking away, without saying more but the boy you just met decides to walk in front of you. Raising his hands a bit at his sides as if trying to stop you. You could almost laugh at his ignorance.

“Are you serious?” Jisung blushes. Perhaps it was his curiosity or maybe those pretty almost silver eyes of yours, but he meant it when he wanted to know who you were.

“You still haven’t told me who you are.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Considering you almost killed me, I think you could at least tell me your name or what you’re doing here?” You glared at him. You could hear the underlying message of getting in trouble with the Academy. Of which you’d rather avoid.

“Artemis…I’m one of Artemis’ hunters. And we don’t particularly take to little demigods like you. So get out of my way and go back to your little dollhouse.” This time you weren’t so patient or kind as you pushed the boy out of your way. Still, he watched you as you disappeared into the forest. So mean for someone as cute as you.

~

You weren’t very well known among demigods. And you liked to keep it that way. But that didn’t mean they didn’t know of your other…persona. The Moon Hunter. Stories told of a hunter who was incredibly strong, quick, and lethal. Those sharp eyes of yours could see just about anything and calculated within seconds. You were a dangerous person even among demigod standards. 

Artemis’ hunters were a group that vowed loyalty and swore off romantic pursuits of any kind. They dedicated their lives to hunting and keeping monsters at bay. They took care of each other and became a true family. But with this oath came another promise. The promise of immortality.

You couldn’t remember exactly how many decades you lived through but you adapted pretty quickly to the changes. Nothing less could be expected from the famed Moon Hunter. But even then, the name started to become a stranger to you. As if though, that person was someone else. A person you used to know who would take joy and pride in their work. But you? You had become a hollow shell of the former. Days went by, feeling prolonged and repetitive. Boring and useless. 

You continued to practice even though your skills were by far the best anyone could ever dream of having. You had left the other hunters to journey on your own, much to their sadness. But they could only let you do what you wished, they still yet had not understood your aging pain. In this journey of silence, you met the boy who had his head in the skies.

Or moreso in the underworld. His skin was pale, eyes a little sunken, and hair a floppy mess of raven black. You noticed the weakness in him immediately. As if though his body was not yet properly maintaining the chaotic power in him. But you could tell a child of Hades when you saw one. He rarely did have any children, being possibly the most responsible in that aspect among his two brothers. This demigod though seemed different from the last one you’d seen years ago. More of a childlike aura to him. He was stupid enough to not watch where he was going. 

You put those thoughts away as you walked on. After having left the forest you made your way back to the small home over the mountain. The mountains were what separated the academy from the outside world. You weren’t a fan of the institution but you had made a promise to someone that you would move on with life and live calmly. And you acted upon those wishes because there was nothing more for you to do. At least that’s what you believed.

~

The second time you were found, Jisung was more aware of his surroundings.  The boy had been left curious by you. And his curiosity was one that he wanted to fulfill. Every day he’d take a walk around the forest, hoping to find you again. But you never did show up so he decided to wander a little farther. This time he found you making more arrows for your bow. You didn’t have to look up to know of his presence. But you didn’t ignore it either.

“You find me once again. You avoided having your head in the clouds?” Jisung reaches out to push the hanging branch in his way and steps out into the open space you were in. He observed the pile of silver arrow tips among other supplies neatly placed on the wooden work table next to  you. You look up at him, bringing your motions to a slow stop.

“H-how’d you know?” You go back to putting your arrows together.

“Let me guess, you feel sick to your stomach just thinking of traveling by sky?” Jisung blinks, surprise shadowing his features.

“A son of Hades. I could tell what you are from the moment we met. Now why is it that we’re meeting again? I’m getting the impression that you’ve purposely seeked me out.”

“I’m not very fond of clouds to be honest.”

“I- well…I was curious about you. You seem different from the people I’ve known. And you’ve managed to pass through the academy’s barrier. Not only that but you also know who my dad is.”

“Such useless thoughts. Instead of asking so much why don’t you just go back? There’s nothing for you here and I’m not worth being curious about.”

“I would hardly say you’re not worth it, if so I wouldn’t be here.” It almost surprises you, the little quip.

“I’ve heard about Artemis’ hunters. You trade a life of partnership and romance for immortality. That doesn’t seem entirely fun. If anything, it feels quite long does it not?”

“It’s a relaxing lifestyle.” Jisung doesn’t move from his place. If there was one thing you could admire of him was the way he was trying to read you without being read himself. His eyes were quite difficult to discern beyond the growing curiosity. But you see a small, kind smile tug at the edges of his lips.

“Isn’t it lonely?”

“Lonely is not bad at all. As I said, it’s rather relaxing.”

“I know what it is to be lonely. In a world where anyone could care less. In a place where things stop to matter. It’s not fun. Nor is it relaxing. If anything, it’s dreadful.” You want to snap the arrow in your hand in half but refrain. Just what was it with this kid and why was he talking so much?

“I didn’t ask for your life story and I’m the last person you should be trying to pitch your advice onto. I’m past the age of needing advice.” Jisung simply smiles at you, this time he does walk closer. His hand comes up to place something on your bench and you glance at it.

“I bought you something to drink. I wasn’t sure what you liked so I bought a few different ones. You seem to be the type to wander alone. I think you could use some company.” He ignores the annoyed sigh that escapes you.

“I think you’re painfully dense. I don’t need-”

“I’ll come by again tomorrow. I hope we can be friends.”

“I don’t need friends!” Jisung laughs oddly with optimism at your sudden outburst. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” And with that he joyfully bounces away leaving you with a now snapped arrow and a growing headache.

~

Jisung kept true to his promise. He came back frequently to see you. It became part of his routine to visit you that even Chenle started taking notice. At first it was nothing. Jisung would disappear for an hour or two. But then it became an almost everyday thing. He could visually see the happy glint in his eyes. It made him question just what was going on in Jisung’s life at the moment.

When he confronted his friend about it he was surprised to see how quickly he opened up. He had met a hunter of Artemis and had been meeting with them. He called them a friend. Chenle was happy for Jisung, seeing how he was making more connections outside himself and his partner. 

He noticed the little smiles, the gifts he’d make, the blush on his face whenever he brought them up. His friend was undoubtedly falling in love. And although he supported the idea, there was something that concerned him. Jisung was a kind person, he was a caring person indeed. And it was completely plausible that he had fallen in love with this hunter. But after a year of being acquainted with the hunter, there was a subtle change in Jisung’s affection that didn’t sit right with Chenle.

For starters, Jisung wasn’t exactly the best when it came to art. As far as Chenle knew, Jisung never picked up a paintbrush in his life. But on a particular day that he’d walked into their dorm he saw a beautifully painted person on a canvas. Jisung being the artist in control of the paintbrush. The second part that felt weird was Jisung’s use of language. Sometimes he would slip into a different accent. Say words that felt too proper. There was something definitely wrong and he had to find out why.

Chenle being the person he was, tried of all different ways to find out what was going on. He started to follow Jisung around. Whether it was walking with him to morning classes or trailing him to the Hephaestus workshops where he frequently seemed to be creating something. Even his partner had a say in all of Jisung’s frequent visits. 

“Chenle, I think there’s something wrong with Jisung.” Chenle sighs, a look of concern blooming.

“I agree. Have you noticed how he’s been speaking? It sounds like he came out of the 1950s. And the hobbies he’s taken up? I know for sure one can’t learn how to paint like that in the span of a week. I don’t even know how long it took him to do it.”

“I think…look it might sound weird but it’s the only conclusion I could make that is sensible.”

“You’re kinda scaring me.”

“I think Jisung’s being controlled by a ghost.” Chenle looks up, eyes wide. His mind starts to play back everything that’s happened since Jisung’s turn in character. If he applied this logic, it fit extremely well. Jisung’s never been one to paint, he’s never spoken in any other accent other than his own, making crafts was also something Jisung never showed interest in. Even when it came to his fighting style in class, it had radically changed. He wasn’t as clumsy but instead of using his right hand he’d use his left. There were just so many things that have changed.

“If it were true, how would we go about it? I don’t think the ghost will tell me who they really are.”

“I’ve already made a contraption for this. I need Jisung to walk into a metal cage I’ve made. It’s invisible but once he steps inside and I seal it, I can separate the ghost from his body. They’ll be completely divided and Jisung might have an answer on what to do afterwards.”

“Okay but how do we get him to walk into it? Jisung can sense things around him. He’s sensitive to all around him, it’s also why he has trouble controlling his powers.”

“I’m 99% sure that he won’t notice but just in case we’ll have to create a scenario where the object of his affection is in perilous danger to the point where he won’t notice. The only way to do that is to inform this person. You have to follow him to where they meet.” Chenle looks at his partner, mischief written all over his eyes. Of which he receives an eye roll in response.

~

You could no longer remember how long it had been since Park Jisung had crossed your path. He kept coming back even if you pushed him away. He treated you as a friend even if you didn’t reciprocate. You would say it was taxing but really, you started to grow fond of him. Instead of the usual jabs at his clumsiness, you started teaching him how to fight better. There was an understanding that the mortal realm had its effects on Jisung’s body and powers. He had been trying to get accustomed to it but it was a slow process.

However, after a while, the more you had practiced with him and lectured him on important topics like hunting, using your surroundings to your advantage, and how to cook, the better Jisung had become. At an alarmingly quick pace but you didn’t think too much about it. He’d ask for your critiques and advice frequently of which you were surprised he accepted kindly. 

But among it all, you knew that there was a change in your relationship with the boy. Jisung had become…different. Yes of course you’d expected his clumsiness to lessen after practicing beside you. However, Jisung had surprised you on certain occasions and that was something that people ever rarely got to brag about. Standing in the training area of your yard, you began teaching Jisung how to use your bow and arrow. Before this you started with sword lessons but after seeing his improvement you let him move on to use your bow. 

“You have to concentrate on your target. Pay attention to your target but do not ignore your surroundings. Steadily hold it,” you help Jisung position the arrow, “now aim and…let go.” The arrow zipped through the air, landing exactly in the center of the target you placed on the tree ahead of you. Jisung let out an excited gasp looking back at you. He had been hyper aware of your proximity before but had underestimated just how close you really were. When he came to face you, your face was a mere few inches from his. From where he was he could see the beautiful specks of color in your eyes, the shape of your parted lips, he could even hear your faint breathing. His eyes had flickered to your lips, imagining just how nice it would feel to kiss you.

You cleared your throat, backing away from him swiftly and murmuring a good job. But he smiled, looking down to the ground realizing the unmistakable blush of your cheeks. When he looked back to you, you were cleaning up the practice area and avoiding his stare. 

“Would it truly hurt you to look into my eyes?” You don’t stop moving, trying to avoid where the conversation was headed.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” At this Jisung lightly scoffs.

“You cannot deny that there is something between us. I have come here many times not only grateful for your teachings but also simply to see you. I know you feel something for me too.” In a rise of frustration you throw the equipment you had in hand onto the table, turning to look him in the eyes just as he wanted.

“Jisung, I’m not sure what you want from me. I’ve welcomed you as a friend and nothing more. I’ve let myself accept you because you were right, I was used to being alone for years, decades really. And I appreciate your company. But I am Artemis’ hunter and I do not wish for a romantic relationship. I prefer my immortality as is.” You could see the frustration growing in those dark eyes. The way he wants to say more but doesn’t. Instead he walks up to you, gently handing you back your bow. He walks away but not before whispering closely in your ear.

“You loved me once Y/N. Don’t you remember? We made a promise but it seems you’ve forgotten. I may not look the same but I know you can feel the difference.” Jisung looked into your eyes a little longer and smiled. You felt a cold prickling throughout your body. The silence around you deafening as Jisung walked away into the forest, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the painful memories of the name you uttered softly.

“Taeyong?”

~

The young boy had been a mere mortal. He was no son of the Greek gods but he was surely recognized by them. His features had been too beautiful to ignore, to not look at. Everywhere he went, he was doted on. Watched with fascination and adoration. He didn’t pay it any mind though. At five years old, Lee Taeyong just wanted to play with his friends and enjoy meals with his parents. He was a caring boy, full of sensitivity for others and love. 

It was how you became attracted to him. You had grown up besides Taeyong since birth, both families having been friends since their teenage years. You had gotten accustomed to Taeyong’s cute hugs, soft kisses on the cheek when you scraped your knee or started crying. You were only five but you understood the feeling of love that soothed your chest. People liked each other and they got together because of love.

The two of you were inseparable. Truly aligned soulmates that were meant for each other. At twelve years old, you went to the school dance together. Although all the kids ran around and played, you stood beside Taeyong for the remainder of the evening. Giggling, laughing, talking about anything that came to the mind of a twelve year old. It was when Taeyong asked if he could kiss you on the lips. You were flustered to say the least but accepted the request willingly. It was weird but a good type of weird. You nervously held onto his hand and he brought them around his waist. His hands moved up to hold your face, just as he always did when he’d kiss you on the cheek. 

You were just kids but you never forget that night. After that, you told him that you wanted to be his partner but that it would be nice to take it slow. Of the two, you were always the one who had a sense of clarity, perhaps maturity, when it came to relationships whether a friend or partner. As time went on, Taeyong had finally asked you out at fifteen. It was usually an awkward time for teenagers who had a lot to explore about the world and about themselves. But just as it had been before, everything felt right when you were with him. You didn’t explore the world on your own because you had Lee Taeyong by your side and you couldn’t ask for more.

It had been on a sunny day that Taeyong took you out to a local festival. Your arm looped around his, both of you wandered off into the streets where all the excitement was happening. Games were played, foods were shared, hidden pecks were exchanged. When it started getting dark he walked you home. But before you reached your house, he led you to the park that was around the corner. It was silent, the breeze blowing a bit, and distant laughter could be heard from the festival. You had walked ahead of him looking up to the stars and admiring them. The smile that was on your face was a sight that would forever be engraved in Taeyong’s mind.

“Y/N?” He called out to you softly and you turned back to look at him, responding with a little hum.

“Remember the day you said you wanted to go out with me but to take things slow?” A blush spread on your face, a shy smile making its way to your lips.

“Yes. What of it?” You were expecting it now. You were hoping for it and you weren’t disappointed.

Taeyong came closer to you, putting his hand out and softly asking to dance with you. It was a surprise but you couldn’t say it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Taeyong was a great dancer and a wonderful starting musician. His voice always soft and melodious in your ears. You placed your hand in his and let him close the gap between the two of you. He looked down into your eyes, infinite love within them and you only hoped he could see the same in yours.

“Y/N, would you grant me the greatest honor of being your boyfriend?” You couldn’t even speak, not with how tears of happiness welled in your eyes. Your heart was moving too rapidly, his words and his proximity being too much for you to handle. So instead of a verbal response, you gave him a kiss. Within that kiss, the both of you smiled, giggled, and sighed. It was your happily ever after. Lee Taeyong would always be your happily ever after.

It wasn’t fair. That’s what you told yourself repeatedly. But reality couldn’t deny the digression of Taeyong’s physical beauty and health. You couldn’t remember what he was diagnosed with because you refused to believe it. You refused to believe that the love of your life was dying and leaving you behind. He didn’t want to tell you, his first few weeks full of sobbing and painful headaches. He wasn’t ready to go, he was only twenty. He was looking forward to finding a nice little apartment for the both of you. But by that time, he had collapsed and his parents had to take him to the hospital. The diagnosis was Taeyong’s worst moment in life. But then he realized that he’d have to look into your beautiful eyes and tell you that he couldn’t be with you. And that had truly torn him apart. Why had fate been so cruel?

He didn’t want to tell you but avoiding you could have only gone so far. When you showed up to his door, his parents had let you in. You too had been crying. Phoning Taeyong was challenging because his parents had always answered instead of him. Visiting him was always rejected with apologies. But this time you didn’t take no for an answer. When you pushed his door open you saw him curled up on his bed. He was a complete mess, his hair sticking out oddly, his skin looking paler than usual, and those pretty eyes of his were puffy. A sign that he had been crying.

When he saw you he teared up again, shaking his head as he tried to tell you to leave. He didn’t want you to see him like this. But you put away all of your frustrations of his negligence and sat next to him. You reached out to him, pulling him up into your arms, and placing your forehead on his.

“What is wrong? Why are you like this? Please love, talk to me. You can tell me.” You tried to get him to talk but when those words came out he just broke down. You couldn’t remember how long he held onto you, all you could hear were his choked sobs and feel his tears on your neck. Taeyong had always found comfort in the way you ran your fingers through his hair and he realized that he missed you too much for words to convey. When the sobbing had ceased to little sniffles, Taeyong pulled away and told you everything.

You called him a liar. But you knew he wasn’t. You called him a bastard for trying to fool you with such a mean joke. But you knew it wasn’t true. Taeyong could only cry as he watched you fall apart. Hitting his chest, roughly rubbing at your eyes, your head shaking in denial. Finally, you both laid down next to each other, too tired from the tears. You asked him questions he wished he didn’t have to answer. He didn’t know how much time he had. So you made him promise that he would never avoid you like that again.

“Lee Taeyong, don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again.”

“I’m sorry my love. I am so sorry.” 

“It’s better now. We have talked about it. There is only one thing left to do now.” Taeyong looked into your eyes that reflected his melancholy. He gave you a weak smile with a question, “And what would that be my love?”

“Enjoy our life together faster than anyone’s ever witnessed.” Taeyong didn’t know what he did to deserve someone as loving as you.

Ultimately, that was what you did. You moved into an apartment with the help of both your families. You did your best to work and bring what you could to the table. If it weren’t for the support of both parents you didn’t think you’d make it. But they understood the fear and the rush to enjoy life with Taeyong. He would become a fleeting moment and you wanted to enjoy him as much as possible.

Taeyong felt like he had burdened you. But everytime he had those thoughts or had that look in his eyes, you had to reassure him that you loved him no matter what. That he was stuck with you because you could never let him go. As Taeyong’s health declined you found that you couldn't work anymore. Taking care of him was now your priority. Towards the end of his life, Taeyong had to stay in bed, machines doing what they could to prolong his life a little bit more. But he knew his end was near and seeing you trying not to fall apart hurt him.

“You have to promise me you’ll fall in love again.” You didn’t want to have this conversation with him again.

“I don’t want to! Stop saying that please.” Taeyong could only watch as your heart fell apart so visibly through your tears. He whispered to you, voice barely strong enough.

“Darling, you need to live. You need to go on. You’re always so sad.” Everytime he started with this you’d cry loudly, grab at his hand and hold it to your heart. You knew he was weak, his body not strong enough on its own. You wished for him to understand that you could never love anyone the way you loved him. You’d always be the one to take his hand and put it against your cheek as you’d whisper everything you felt for him.

“I do not want anyone else! Stop trying to give me away. I only want you. I will never love anyone else like I love you Lee Taeyong. Accept it. Accept that I do not wish for any man in this world that is not you.” God did he want to, he loved how you wanted him so badly. But he knew it wouldn’t be right. However, to ease your sobs he made a promise.

“Fine then let us settle this with a promise. We will wait for each other. And when the day comes that we finally see each other, we will stay together for all eternity. I will always love you Y/N. I love you my darling.” Taeyong’s coughing started to take over him and you dreaded that this was the moment. You called for a doctor, for help, but Taeyong could only look at you with his last smile. You didn’t realize you were screaming until your mother came by to check on the both of you. She tried to pull you away but could only let go and cry as she watched you mourn the love of your life.

You didn’t want to remember life after that. You vowed to never pursue a romantic relationship again. You became cold and you knew Taeyong would have been upset to see the person you’d become. He took away with him all the love and warmth you had to give. Your vow is what brought Artemis to you. You learned from her all you knew and more. You became Artemis’ infamous Moon Hunter. You had to explain to your family what you had become. They believed it as they realized that you stopped aging. After, you mourned everyone else around you. Your parents, Taeyong’s parents, and your few friends. 

When those you knew left, you vanished from that town and never looked back. Instead, you carried your duties. You continued on with life. And it may have been selfish because you knew Taeyong was waiting for you. You knew he had to be. But you were alone. You had no one else and your mental state had suffered greatly. Eventually, you put away your past and Lee Taeyong had become a buried memory within your heart.

~

There was a knock at your door. Walking away from the dishes you were washing you grabbed a rag to dry your hands as you walked to the door. Upon opening it there was a boy with mint green hair and clear eyes of a snake. You leaned upon the doorframe, arms crossed in front of you.

“And what do I owe the pleasure of meeting Hermes’ prodigal son?” Chenle eyebrows furrow confused as to how you know who he is. Before he can ask, you speak up again.

“Don’t ask how I know. I’ve been alive for so many decades I’ve become a book of secrets. And your little friend talks a lot about you. Now what is it you want, Zhong Chenle?” Chenle could see the bits and pieces of what Jisung had told him about you. The way you presented yourself, your silent disposition that was calculating. You were confident and unafraid. An interesting match for his friend who was a little more bubbly.

“I need your help. It’s Jisung, he’s been acting weird. I thought you might know or be able to help.” You laugh.

“You're a smart person. I think you already know what the problem is.” You push yourself off the doorframe and invite Chenle in. You let him settle in and bring him a drink of his choosing. Now settling on the opposite chair of the dining room table you sigh. Beforehand it wasn’t noticeable, but seeing you unwind for a moment Chenle sees that you are beyond tired. Moreseo mentally than physically. 

“Who is it?” Chenle asks, getting straight to the matter at hand.

“His name is Lee Taeyong…” you hated yourself for feeling emotional but you knew how to control your voice, “he was my husband.” Chenle’s eyes widened in shock. He assumed he was a lover but for someone who seemed as young as you, a husband did not cross his mind.

“He died in his early twenties from an illness. We’d known each other all our lives. Madly in love and whatnot. We had our lives planned out, our entire future. But we found out he was sick and so I pushed for us to marry and live together. A love experienced faster than anyone’s seen. What I dreaded had become a reality and Taeyong became a distant memory. I vowed to never fall in love again and Artemis found me. Turned me immortal.”

“So that’s who he is. Hm, I did wonder how Jisung was able to paint so well. He’s never been into art and crafts.” You don’t look at him, remembering how much you loved seeing Taeyong’s work. You move on from his comment.

“How do we get him out of Jisung’s body? I assume you already have a plan.” Chenle starts to actually fear your intellect and reading abilities. It’s like you already knew how everything would pan out.

“My partner, their a child of Hephaestus. They’ve made a cage that will separate Taeyong’s soul from Jisung’s body. It’s invisible but we’re afraid Jisung’s body will react to it. We’re not quite sure how far possession goes in terms of connection of soul and host.” You wave your hand dismissively. 

“Taeyong was mortal. Even if he could tell, Jisung would be made conscious of it and they’d fight for control. There were times he’d contradict himself but now that it’s confirmed I understand why. Jisung’s been awake the entire time. He’s been fighting for control but he’ll be able to get it back. How are we going to get him to walk into it?” At this the boy nervously laughs.

“Well we thought we’d have to create a scenario where you’re in grave danger. He’d only be focused on you and hopefully not entirely aware of his surroundings.”

“You barely know me and already treat me as bait.” Before Chenle could try and explain himself you put a hand up to stop him. 

“I don’t care as long as they can be separated. The longer we wait the more problematic the situation can become. Tell your partner to bring their contraption. I will take care of the rest.” Chenle thanks you, informing you of the preparation of the contraption. Before he leaves he asks you a question you weren’t expecting.

“Will you be okay after seeing Taeyong?” You don’t look at him, instead telling him to close the door on his way out. Your facade was fading and you needed to come to terms with the painful piece that was your love. The one you buried under all the coldness and sternness that was your personality.

~

Jisung did not come back to you for about a week. You assumed it was to give some distance between the two of you. You felt conflicted but you knew what had to be done. You weren’t sure what it was that Chenle had said or done but Jisung was running hurriedly through the forest. He needed to find you. Apparently, there was a gadget of some sort that let you see another person. That was totally and not entirely Chenle’s partner’s many creations. It was a communication device and when he tried to use it, he saw you out in the open on the ground with what seemed like broken items around you. As if you were in a fight.

When Jisung walked into the open area where you were, he realized his mistake too late. The moment his foot stepped on the invisible trap, a glowing white fence formed behind him. He reached out to push it but retracted his hands when he felt a slight bolt of electricity. He looked around him, worried and panicked because of the cage and your body on the ground.

“Y/N! Y/N! Wake, please wake up!” He got as close as he could to the side of the cage that was facing you. He looked out with worried eyes, hands yearning to reach out to you. When he watches you move, he sighs in relief. Your hand comes up to clean away at the dirt on your face; looking up you stare straight into his eyes and you see some of the relief turns into confusion.

“Why do you stare at me with such eyes?”

“Tsk,” you shake your head, “when were you planning to tell me?” Jisung’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I do not understand what you are asking. I thought- I thought you were hurting?” You get up and dust yourself off, Jisung’s eyes following your every movement. You walk closer to him, sit down in front of him and observe.

“Taeyong.” Realization overcomes his expression, a sad smile playing on his lips as he remembers your last encounter with him.

“You do remember me.”

“It’s been decades, we may have known each other from a different time but I would be blind if I couldn’t recognize the boy I met and the boy I see now.”

“Have you always doubted me?”

“Jisung uses his right hand. You use your left. Apparently, he’s never picked up a paintbrush in his life,” Taeyong lets out a soft laugh, “and Jisung could have never known the lyrics to the song you hum all the time.” He can see that under that stoic mask, you’re hurting just like the first time. He wonders why fate had to be this way. All he wanted was to be happy with you but why was it that you always looked so sad.

“I am sorry for lying to you-”

“For how long?” Taeyong looks like his next words were too painful to say.

“Long enough for you to fall in love with him and not me.” You looked at him confused.

“I have only been in his body for three months. The Jisung you know was the one you fell in love with. And the one you questioned was me. He has a warm heart that was torn at too much. But he found guidance, family,” he looks into your eyes, “and love.” There was a time when you were drowning in happiness to just be able to talk to him. To be in his embrace. He was your first and who you wished to be your last. But the world had taken him away from you and you grew accustomed to not having him anymore. Hearing him now reminded you of the times where you were simply a mortal enjoying life and loving the boy who kept a piece of your heart.

“I mourned you Taeyong. I watched you die and I fell apart. But that was decades ago. Everyone left and I was alone. I chose this. So how and why are you here?” Taeyong scrambled closer, forgetting about the electric shock the cage caused. He flinched and moved his hands away.

“I was supposed to be judged by Thanatos. I know that but I was pulled away for some reason. I do not remember for how long but eventually, I saw you. You were different but I knew it was you. I was by your side for a decade but you could never see me. I guess I was not strong enough but Jisung came along. I practiced and practiced until eventually I was able to take hold of him. He fights me for dominance and I know, I-I know this is w-wrong-” tears escape you before you realize as you watch him break up in front of you, “but I needed to speak with you. I missed you so much. It has been everything I have ever wanted, being by your side and not feeling sick. I would remember all the things we used to do.”

“You can’t be here Taeyong. It’s been too long and although I loved you dearly once, I gave everything up to be here.” Taeyong looks like he wants to scream. All he wanted was to be with you. He knows he made you promise to move on with life but being with you for the past three months reminded him of all the other promises he wanted in life.

“A love experienced faster than anyone’s ever seen. We already lived it Taeyong. But you are dead. You need to move on just as I have.”

“But you promised you wouldn’t! You promised you promised me you wouldn’t! You said you could never love anyone the way you love me. Why can you not keep your promise to me? I am here just for you.”

“I do love you Taeyong, I do, please understand that. But I am no longer in love with you,” you watch him crawl away from you, pained not only from your words but the process of separation that was beginning, “we’ve been apart for far too long and I’ve made a life for myself.”

“You said we would wait for each other. Why would you choose to be immortal instead of being with me?” You feel guilty but there was truth in his words.

“I grew cold Taeyong. I was tired. But I do not regret anything between us. Your actual promise to me was that I’d move on and fall in love again. And I have. I will leave my immortality for Jisung because it’s true. I do love him. He’s been a friend to me in such a short time but he made me feel again. And if you’ve been there for me for so long, you know I have tired of this life. Hades and Thanatos will not be happy that you’ve taken over Jisung’s body. Only he will be able to get you in their good graces and forgiveness. I love you Taeyong. But you have to let go.” It hurts you the way he looks at you, the way Jisung’s facial expression reminds you so easily of Taeyong’s. He always looked like a hurt and wounded child. His teary eyes look into yours.

“Will I see you again?”

“Yes you will, Taeyong. I promise you that we will see each other again. No matter what happens, we will get there eventually.” And although Taeyong feels wounded and hurt, wanting to at least get a kiss from you, he nods in understanding, whispering his final “I love you” and letting go.

~

After Taeyong’s soul was separated from Jisung’s body he personally escorted him to the underworld. Neither of them said anything to you as they vanished. You were left to grieve once again. But this did not hurt as badly as the last. Although in your hurt and weakened state, you called out to Artemis. Wanting to get over all that has happened in the last hour. You hear her voice in your mind as you stare up at the moon that shone brightly.

Are you sure you want this? I cannot take you back into the group if you decide to give up your immortality for love.

Yes, this…this is what I want. I enjoyed my time as a hunter. And I will never forget everything you’ve taught me. But I realize now that I am not strong enough to remain this way. I grew tired and I wish to settle down and accept life.

Well then, it shall be as you wish. I will strip you of your immortality. But I will not make you into a mere mortal. I will give you the powers of a demigod and you will be blessed with the knowledge of Apollo’s children. My brother will take care of you just as I have. Be well my dear hunter, and may you find happiness in love.

Thank you mother.

The process of losing your powers wasn’t all that grand. You could only watch the light silver dust that swirled around you, taking away the immortality you had once vowed to keep. You felt lighter and more free than before. You could only wish that Taeyong could say the same.

~

Chenle had sent you news that Taeyong was able to make it into Elysium. You were relieved to say the least. But there was something else on your mind and he knew.

“He’s healing if that’s what you’re wondering. After everything, he said he needed some time to be away from people. He doesn’t hate you or anything. I know he misses you a lot.”

“He should hate me though. My dead husband possessed him for a few months. But he still let him get into Elysium.” Chenle could only watch you.

“You should enroll in the academy. You know, being Apollo’s kid and all.”

“You sneaky little snake,” you scoff.

“I didn’t see anything, I swear.”

“Liar, go away Chenle.”

“Enroll in the academy. It’ll be good for you and easier for Jisung. You’ve done a lot for him this past year but I know he’s done good for you too. He used to be scared of love. But you’ve changed that for him.”

You bid him goodbye as you walked back to your little cabin. Most often you were a person of very few words. But it took someone like Chenle or Jisung to understand what your silence meant. The microscopic expressions you’d make before turning away. You knew what you would do. You could only hope that everything would turn out well.

~

When you see Jisung again he almost falls over. He had been in his Demigod Healing and First Aid class. After the episode with Taeyong’s soul, Jisung’s inner balance was strangely put back together well. His powers had finally manifested properly in his body and he wasn’t as weak before. He knew it had to do something with that soul but he couldn’t figure out what. If Taeyong could see him now he’d probably laugh knowingly. 

You had walked in, students whispering about the new student. Before anyone could offer you a seat you head directly to Jisung, plopping down next to him. You turn to him, elbow on the desk and chin settling down on your hand.

“What’s up lover boy?” Jisung blushes deeply all the way to his ears as he looks away from the gaze of other students. He ignores them all and looks to you.

“What are you doing here? I thought the children of Artemis didn’t attend the academy.” You hum.

“That’s because they don’t.”

“Then how are you here?”

“I’m officially Apollo’s adopted kid. No longer an immortal.” Jisung does a double take, words stuttering, and head shaking in confusion.

“I’m sorry, Apollo adopted you?”

“Artemis didn’t want to leave me as a mere mortal as I was before. Instead, she let me stay as a demigod. I guess she did me a favor.” There’s a look in his eyes, one you can’t read.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I like you a lot. Well love but uh anyway. Immortality is boring and repetitive.” Jisung looks at you.

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Crazy in love.” Jisung gags and you let yourself laugh.

“Oh my gods. I can’t believe you confessed to me in a health class.”

“Love is a healthy thing in life, you know. Helps build relationships.”

“That’s the wrong type of health.” You look at him, surprised that he’s being a little brat.

“Huh, maybe I don’t know you after all. Where are these little quips coming from?” Jisung leans over to leave a quick peck on your cheek, leaving you surprised and him impossibly redder than before.

“I love you too.”

~

“Were you ever bothered by being able to know what Taeyong was doing?” Jisung hums, cuddling up next to you as the movie played on your living room television.

“I understood what he felt. Although we lived different experiences I knew that he loved you a lot. He felt it to be unfair, the card he was dealt with. But he said to me before he left, ‘Take care of Y/N. I loved them enough for one lifetime. Now you can do it instead.’ We all have something we have to move on from eventually. I know I had to.” Jisung thinks back to his mother, the one who although treated him terribly, he still kept a piece of his heart reserved for her. He thought back to everything she wanted in life. She could’ve had it all but it had not mattered in the end. 

Jisung was simply content with having you in his arms, looking at him with those eyes of yours, dazed at the shape of your lips. That was what truly mattered. He knew that Suffering was not the monster in his chest. It was loneliness that tried to reach out for someone. And he fell even more in love when he knew that someone had been you.

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

🌟

Thanks for the ask! Lol, it took a while to get to, but I eventually picked something. I am going to gush about Rhea Royce (my beloved) here because with her not having any POVs & all her actions being filtered through her kids' eyes is forcing me to not put a lot of her stuff that's harder to infer on page.

This will be wordy, I apologize in advance. This opened a flood gate I was unaware of.

Starting at the beginning, the opening was originally going to be way different. Before I figured out how I wanted to structure the fic, I had wanted to put a little...idk context? on the relationship with Rhea & Daemon & actually open up way earlier. What we have is a cold open, set a year after the death of Lord Yorbert Royce, where Daemon has been living permanently in King’s Landing for 3 years & its well-established the twins still like him & so Rhea brings them to see him sometimes. The OG opening, however, was going to be The Targaryen Visit after the twins' birth that I reference a few times.

Yorick did not know what that argument had been about, he did not want to burden mother with asking during her visits, but apparently Grandfather Yorbert had slapped Prince Daemon with the back of his hand before both men were wrestling on the high table until they had to be dragged apart. The prince had gone back to King’s Landing, tail between his legs, and only returned after the twins were born: the Targaryen trip to Runestone serving as both King Jaehaerys’s wish to see his great-grandchildren before his death and a way to force the apology of the Lord of Runestone. -- Yorick 3: Black and Bronze

"Now, you said yourself that Owen wasn't opposed to the next child being named for mother, none of that is as awkward as the old king looking you in the eye after you've explained wanting your fist son to have a Royce name, fully knowing he does not understand it, and then saying 'why are you all named like this?' Father told me he practically bit his tongue off to keep from asking why every third Targaryen is named Aegon." Aunt Rina descended into a fit of giggles before snorting, and then starting to laugh harder. A septa came and took Gavyn, letting her fully fold over to keep snickering at the unburied memory. "Oh Seven," she barely managed to get the words out between laughs, "I forgot it was King Jaehaerys!" Ella leaned forward in her chair, her arms rested on her knees. She had not heard the story of this first visit, at least not like this. She knew that Great-Grandfather Jaehaerys and Grandfather Baelon and Uncle Viserys and Aunt Aemma had come to visit when she and Yorick were born, and that all the men had fawned over Yorick…no one had ever said anything about this though. She furrowed her brows, listening quietly as her mother and aunt continued talking. "'What kind of name is Yorick Targaryen?'" Mother said, mocking whichever of father’s relatives had asked the question, "the one I picked." -- Rhaella 2: Family Ties

Ultimately, I am glad I didn't go with that, because a lot of finer details surrounding it have changed since I wrote chapter 1, but it makes some things get lost in the shuffle.

So the marriage.

I kind of make reference to it in the summary, but it's maybe not clear. At the start of things, Rhea was actually totally into the match. Because think about it: he's the grandson of a well-liked monarch, his grandmother was friends with her great-aunt, his dad was set to be heir to the throne (& his brother inheriting after that), his brother is married to their shared cousin who she has a great relationship with, he's her age (which, given Westeros, is kind of a miracle), he poses zero threat to her inheritance, & he's charismatic as all hell. They hadn't met before this, so she was jazzed, honestly! Then the wedding comes & she finds out he had to get drunk to want to sleep with her, he makes it clear the next day he regrets "getting it up and thinking of Westeros," & he resents her for the crime of *checks notes* not being Valyrian.

She did, initially, try to make Daemon like her, but it wasn't going anywhere, even after she obviously got pregnant from ther wedding night. So she abandoned delusion & just decided to match energies, because that's what she's good at. If at first you don't succeed in making your weird, inbred, nepo-baby husband like you...clap back. As soon as she didn't roll over & try even harder to make him like her/appease him, they mostly just fought or ignored each other, & things didn't really start deteriorating to the point we see in fic (and in 5 minutes of episode 5) until 1: a physical fight with Yorbert & 2: the twins were born not exactly how Daemon envisioned (see: both male & Distinctly Only Valyrian Looking).

Rhea has, pretty much, made peace with having a marriage of Mutual Resentment, but she still struggles with wanting more/better on occasion. Which, y'know, fair. She's been put in an incredibly exhausting situation of being a married single mom to 2 kids, & yet she really only gets to spend time with 1 because her selfish prick of a husband only sees their son as a tool to get what he wants.

“He insists on taking our son and doesn’t even spend enough time with him to know that’s horse shit?! Seven hells, why am I surprised? Why am I surprised?” Mother put her forehead in her hand, rubbing her temples with her fingers and thumb.

“The same reason everyone always is, the want for something better to be in him.” -- Rhealla 3: Bronze Fury

She isn't heartless or infallible, she wants, at the very least, partnership. She's not carrying any torches for him, but just the smallest crumb of (casual) intimacy & care would be nice. She still wants better than what she has.

There's also some projection issues. They're mostly minor (nothing as delusional as what Viserys has going on within my fic), & she's willing to listen to reason in regard to them, but they're there. Making peace does not mean coming out unscathed. 🤷🏻‍♀️

"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lady wife."

While Elenda echoed Borros’s vow, Yorick glanced at his mother as she mumbled something under her breath. Her eyes were down, although he was not sure if they were on his brother in her lap or the floor, and her tight lips were curled ever so slightly.

"I think he will be good to her," Yorick whispered, "knowing Borros has been a comfort.” Lady Rhea looked at him, her face relaxing into a sad, gentle smile. As she looked back at Borros and Elenda, their lips parting with her focus finally returning to the ceremony, she squeezed Yorick’s hand. -- Yorick 4: Toppled Tower

Stuff like this is totally chill. Get reassured that "hey, this guy is fucking normal, he'll probably be at least friends with his wife" & just relax into knowing they'll be happy at least. It's all copacetic. She's a little less chill later...

"I had not intended for the confrontation to take quite that direction, regardless, there are still things we must discuss," Uncle Viserys walked towards them as he spoke, "in an effort to keep Daemon away from the throne, I will be naming Rhaenyra as my heir."

"And I will swear fealty to her, of course. You've no need to worry about my loyalties." Mother replied.

"Of course I have no reason to worry! And I suppose formalities must not be overlooked, even in the face of a betrothal. How would it look to the other Lords of The Realm if you were exempt, after all?" He said with a chuckle, good humor returning with each word he spoke.

"Betrothal?"

"Between Yorick and Rhaenyra."

"Oh!" Something akin to panic entered Lady Rhea’s amber eyes, and she faltered over her words for a moment before continuing. "Apologies, Your Grace, I thought Lord Boremund already told you."

"Told me what?"

"Last year we spoke of betrothing Yorick and Shireen. He spent so much time with you that I assumed he must have mentioned it. I would have said something before now had I known he left the matter to me." Ella fought to keep her face neutral as her mother lied. Why was she telling him this? She and Yorick were not going to have to get married, things like this could wait. -- Rhaella 5: First Blood

She basically sees a genderswapped version of her life flash before her eyes & voluntarily goes down into the trenches in order to fight for Yorick not to marry Rhaenyra. It's a baseless (if successful) attempt to save him from what she got saddled with: a marriage of mutual resentment. He and Rhaenyra are friends, they've only ever liked each other, but the fear was still there because "this is what happens when a Targaryen marries An Outsider," & mom instinct takes over. Imo: she did save him because a Yornyra marriage would be toxic as hell, but in universe no one fucking knows that. She just politically shot herself in the foot for zero reason.

Y e a h.

Rhea Royce, my beloved. She is the more functional parent who cares for her kids & tries to set healthy boundaries & give them functional relationships to people (& their dragons), but she has layers. Layers of resentment & complex love & long dead pining & irrevocably screwed up perceptions of things. She loves her family, she hates her husband, she wants something from him but she doesn't even know what that is anymore.

Your honor, I love her.

[bioocs]

Character name: Blake

About:

AGE: Age when cursed: 36

BIRTH DATE:  1831/May/23.

GENDER:  Male.  

HEIGHT : 5'10"

World History

Character biography:

BLAKE WAS BORN AS A NORMAL HUMAN LIKE MOST, HE LIVED A RELATIVELY NORMAL LIFE IN THE WILD WEST; HIS FATHER, ALTHOUGH A CRIMINAL, FELL IN LOVE WITH HIS MOTHER, ENDED UP LEAVING THE CRIME WORLD, AND SETTLE IN WITH A FAMILY. HE WAS BORN NOT KNOWING THAT HIS FATHER HAD A LOT OF ENEMIES. AS TIME PASSED BY, HAVING TO LIVE HIS LIFE, MARRIED, AND HAD CHILDREN, AND THE TIME CAME WHERE CONFRONTED WITH HIS FATHER’S ENEMY.  A STRANGE BOX LEFT BY HIS FATHER, HIS FATHER TOLD HIM IT WAS TO BE KEPT AS A SECRET AND HIDDEN FROM ANYONE WHO TRIES TO OPEN IT. THE BOX ITSELF SEALS AN EVIL WITCH, SHE WAS SEALED BY A GROUP OF HUNTERS, AND THE BOX ITSELF WAS GUARDED, BUT THE OWNER DIED WHEN HIS FATHER RAIDED THEIR HOME. STEALING THE BOX WITH HIM ONLY TO FIND OUT LATER WHAT WAS REALLY INSIDE. ANYONE WHO DARES TO OPEN IT WOULD UNSEAL THE EVIL LURK WITHIN. ONE NIGHT IT WAS ACCIDENTALLY OPENED BY HIS CHILDREN, NOT KNOWING WHAT IT WAS AS HE WAS QUIET TO SPEAK. BLAKE PAID A HIGH PRICE FOR THE MISTAKE. THE HOUSE BURNED WITH BLACK FIRE, KILLING BOTH HIS CHILDREN AND WIFE.

BLAKE WAS TURNED INTO AN IMMORTAL, THE WITCH CURSED HIM TO WALK THE EARTH FOREVER AND MAKE SURE HE WOULD WATCH HIS FAMILY DIE. HE WAS ALSO CURSED TO CHANGE INTO A SKELETON AT THE NIGHT ONLY WHILE STAYING A HUMAN DURING THE DAY.

Blake’s family was poor ever since he was born, despite his father being a very famously known outlaw. His father wasn’t there and had to leave his family, due to his namesake. Not wanting to cause harm to his family. Although, despite it all, they still caught on. Now having to deal with dangerous people, and having nowhere to run, sadly blake’s mother died due to tuberculosis. Blake alone had to basically slave his lives away. blake was 10 at the time.

It was hard, gruesome and they didn’t treat him as human. Through all hardship, he still smiled, smiling for his mother who he knew was watching over him. This is where he learns to talk politely, cause if he didn’t, he’ll get punished. At the age of 20, The society around him was too new for a child who never experienced it, and he’ll learn it the harsh way. Even at this age, he was innocent and gullible.

Blake would go back to serve someone because that’s the only thing he knew. The good thing about it this time was, it wasn’t under a harsh ruler, he’ll take odd jobs like washing dishes, cleaning, etc. Two years later he’ll meet his soon-to-be wife. He’ll meet her at night when she was crying. She told him the story of her husband, an abusive man, whom she had to leave with her children. It takes years before they fall in love, blake would help her through a lot of hardship, and get to know her children.

He’ll love them dearly, even if he’ll never have children of his own. While he would be looked down upon, since he did live with a woman who was married before, despite all name calls, he still loved her. They’ll have a small marriage only the kids as audience and a priest to confirm them. Working hard for another two years, Blake would eventually buy a small land to farm with his family. They’ll live happily. That is, until five years later when the incident happens and he’ll lose them.

Personality:

BLAKE IS A TIRED INDIVIDUAL, WHO IS ALSO ANGRY AND BITTER ABOUT HIS LIFE AS A WHOLE. YET, BEHIND THAT LOOK HE IS THE MOST CARING INDIVIDUAL YOU’LL EVER SEE. BLAKE IS WHAT YOU CALL AN INNOCENT SOUL, HE CAN’T BAT AN EYE AWAY FROM TROUBLED PEOPLE, HAS TO SAVE THOSE WHO ARE IN NEED, AND WOULD RATHER GIVE HIS LIFE UP FOR THEM. SOMETIMES HE’S A SHY INDIVIDUAL WITH SOCIALIZING SINCE IT HAS BEEN 100 OF YEARS SINCE HE EVER REALLY TALKED WITH SOMEONE PERSONALLY WHICH ALSO LEADS TO AWKWARDNESS. HE IS ALSO A LEARNER, TRIES TO UNDERSTAND THE WORLD AROUND HIM, AND IS GRATEFUL THAT THE CURSE CHOOSES HIM, RATHER THAN SOMEONE ELSE. NOT WANTING TO BURDEN ANYONE.

BLAKE NEVER GETS ANGRY WITH PEOPLE, HE IS RATHER GULIBE IN HIS OWN RIGHT AND THOSE AROUND HIM DO FEEL SORRY FOR THE MAN. HE DOESN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE FUTURE. BLAKE IS ALSO CURIOUS ABOUT HIS SURROUNDINGS, HE WOULD RATHER LEARN ABOUT WHAT’S IN FRONT OF HIM AND LOVES TO READ THE STORY BEHIND IT ALL. BEING THE CURIOUS ONE HE IS, HE WOULD ASK QUESTIONS STRANGE TO SOME, BUT SEEING HOW HE HAD NEVER SEEN ANYTHING OR LEARNED ENOUGH, THE WORLD AROUND HIM WOULD SEEM NEW. LEARNING ANYTHING WITH JOY IN HIS HEART.  

WITH A BIG HEART, BLAKE TENDS TO GET ATTACHED TO PEOPLE PRETTY EASILY. ONCE YOU TEAR DOWN THE SHY WALL AROUND HIM, HE IS A GREAT PERSON TO BE AROUND WITH. BLAKE IS A LISTENER, AND IF YOU’RE FEELING DOWN AND NEED SOMEONE TO TALK WITH OR SHOULDER TO CRY ON BLAKE IS THE BEST PERSON TO DO SO, HE WON’T FEEL BURDENED BY THE EMOTION THAT IS SHOWN, ONLY BECAUSE HE KNOWS HOW IT FEELS.

Abilities:

BLAKE IS IMMORTAL AND WOULDN’T DIE FROM ANY NORMAL WEAPONS THAT ARE THROWN HIS WAY, ALTHOUGH HE COULD ‘DIE’ HE WOULD GET BACK UP AFTER HIS DEATH.

AFTER HIS DEATH, BLAKE REGENERATES BACK WITHIN AN HOUR, LIKE WAKING UP FROM A SLUMBER.

AN EXCELLENT SHOOTER AND A MARKSMAN.

BLAKE IS CURSED, DURING THE NIGHTS HE’LL TRANSFORM INTO A SKELETON, THE PROCESS IS HORRIBLE WHERE HE’LL LOSE HIS SKIN BY CATCHING ON FIRE.

Weapons/important items:

Pistol

Shotgun.

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ PEOPLE YOU KNOW ♡·˚

— [♡] ; the name "gojo satoru" felt foreign and awkward on your tongue after months of calling him "gojo-sensei" ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: fated feud, fem!reader, betrayal, angst, found family, trust issues, dark past, second chances, clan rivalry, hopeful ending, gojo collecting traumatized students 101.

wc. 5K

You were never supposed to know peace.

From the moment you took your first breath, your fate had been sealed by those who surrounded you, hands already stained with the blood of generations lost to the Gojo clan’s power. You were born into a cage made of their ambitions and hatred, their fear of Gojo’s supremacy shaping you into a tool—a weapon crafted for a singular purpose.

“Your life isn’t your own,” they reminded you, again and again, in the cold, dark halls of your clan’s compound. Each bruise, each scar you bore from training was a reminder of that truth. You weren’t meant to live beyond your mission; you weren’t meant to become anything more than the one thing they needed: Gojo Satoru’s downfall.

Day after day, you were sharpened. They taught you everything, everything but the chance at a life free from their shadow. Theories upon theories of how Gojo’s Infinity could be pierced, how his Six Eyes could be blinded, flooded your lessons. Every possibility was drilled into you, every failure punished. You learned to move silently, to breathe in the malice they planted deep inside of you.

They made you believe this was all you were ever good for.

The clan elders whispered of his power like a dark omen. His Infinity—a barrier no one could cross—and the Six Eyes, those cursed techniques that made him untouchable. You were to be the antithesis to all that. Where others had failed, you were supposed to succeed. They stripped you of your name, your identity. You were nothing but the weapon to strike at the untouchable.

“Gojo Satoru,” they would say, the syllables laced with bitterness. “He will fall. You will make him fall.”

But no matter how hard they drilled those words into you, a part of you—buried deep beneath the years of pain and manipulation—questioned whether you were truly capable of such a feat. Whether you were capable of anything beyond being a mere vessel for their hatred.

Infinity. Six Eyes. Words that loomed large in your life, despite never having encountered him in person. It was always about him. From your earliest memories, they drilled it into your head—he is invincible, untouchable. Your existence, they claimed, was the only thing that might tilt the balance. You had no identity beyond that.

When the time finally came, they sent you to Jujutsu High. After all, what better way to study the enemy than from within? Months of training culminated in this infiltration, hidden under the guise of a normal student.

But it wasn’t like what you imagined.

You thought he’d be different—distant, cold, untouchable like the legends described him. But Gojo Satoru was nothing like the stories.

On your first day, you felt his presence before you even saw him, his energy radiating through the hallways like the sun at high noon. It was overwhelming, suffocating even, but not in the way you had expected. You anticipated his aura to be a fortress of power, a wall you’d have to break through. Instead, it was na aura of warmth. He was... bright.

You wanted to hate him. You tried to maintain your focus, to remember the cruel purpose that had been etched into your bones since birth. But how could you, when he was so... friendly? His smile was disarming, his laugh loud and full of life. And the way he treated everyone—not just his students but even you, the supposed weapon sent to destroy him—was effortless. Casual, like he had no idea of the burden you carried.

“Hey, you must be the new kid!” Gojo’s voice had snapped you out of your thoughts on your first day. He tilted his head down slightly, even though he was much taller. Those eyes—those cursed Six Eyes, hidden behind his blindfold—seemed to pierce right through you. “What’s your name?”

Your name. Something so simple, yet you hesitated. The response you gave was mechanical, devoid of feeling, as you introduced yourself. Every syllable was heavy with the weight of your mission, the expectation of your entire clan on your shoulders.

But Gojo’s grin didn’t falter. “Well, welcome to Jujutsu High! We’re a pretty small group here, so I’m sure we’ll get to know each other real well.” He said, as though he had no clue who you were, what you were meant to be.

It was frustrating. Infuriating, even. Every interaction was supposed to bring you closer to understanding him, to finding a weakness. Instead, all it did was throw you into confusion. How could someone so powerful also be so... human? You were meant to tear him down, to be the undoing of this untouchable figure, yet it was him who was breaking you. Not with force, but with kindness.

He was too bright. Too... Gojo.

Days turned into weeks, and still, you struggled to reconcile the man before you with the target etched into your soul. The more you saw of him, the harder it became to remind yourself of your mission. He laughed at your awkward attempts to avoid his attention, teasing you playfully when you stammered through conversations. At times, you caught yourself almost enjoying it—almost forgetting.

But you couldn’t forget. You weren’t allowed to forget.

Your nights were sleepless, haunted by the faces of your clan, the cold voices of the elders reminding you of why you were there. You were their weapon, their creation. You had no right to lose focus. Yet, every time you closed your eyes, it wasn’t your mission that plagued you. It was him—Gojo, with his blinding smile and easy demeanor.

How were you supposed to fight someone who didn’t even seem to care that you were a threat?

Weeks passed at Jujutsu High, and despite your best efforts to keep your distance, you found yourself inexorably drawn into Gojo’s orbit. It wasn’t by choice, not really. He was just… everywhere. He seemed to appear out of thin air—his boundless energy always circling around you, pulling you into conversations, dragging you into group training sessions, or forcing you to spar when all you wanted was to retreat and focus.

“Hey, kiddo!” Gojo’s voice rang out from across the courtyard, cutting through the calm morning air like na explosion of sunlight. You tensed, the instinct to brace yourself for his overwhelming presence kicking in as you glanced over your shoulder. There he was, in all his glory, strolling over with that easy smile plastered on his face.

Kiddo. He’d taken to calling you that almost immediately. You hated how casual and comfortable it sounded, as though you were just some other student—just another kid under his care.

But you weren’t. You couldn’t be.

“Gojo-sensei,” you replied, your voice stiffer than you intended. His name felt awkward in your mouth, even now. Every time you addressed him, you could hear the echo of your elders reminding you of who he was—not a teacher, not a mentor, but the man you were destined to defeat. Still, the way he grinned at you made it feel like you were just one of his students. Nothing more.

“You seem tense,” he remarked, his voice playful as he folded his arms and cocked his head to the side. “Training too hard? You’re not supposed to carry the weight of the world, you know. Leave that to the old guys.” He winked, knowing full well the irony in his words.

You didn’t respond, hoping your silence would end the conversation, but Gojo wasn’t one to let things go. He slid in closer, his tall frame casting a shadow over you.

“Come on, kid. Lighten up a little, will ya?” He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you could feel the weight of it, solid but not heavy, grounding you in the moment. There was an ease to his touch, a warmth that contrasted with the rigid formality you had been taught to expect from him. “You’re doing great. Really.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard. It wasn’t just na empty compliment—he genuinely believed it. And for the briefest moment, you felt a flicker of something deep inside, something dangerously close to... pride.

But that feeling was quickly quashed as the memory of your mission came crashing back, pulling you down like na anchor. You weren’t supposed to enjoy his praise. You weren’t supposed to feel anything for him beyond what your clan had drilled into you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your eyes fixed on the ground.

Gojo’s hand lingered for a moment longer before he pulled back, letting out a soft chuckle. “You’re a tough one, huh? That’s good. You’ll need it.”

You glanced up at him, confused by his words. “Need it for what?”

“For dealing with me,” he said, smirking as if that explained everything. “I’m a handful, or so I’ve been told.”

Under normal circumstances, you might have rolled your eyes or brushed off the comment. But there was something about the way Gojo’s presence lingered, something about his carefree attitude that made you want to stay, to hear more.

Despite everything you knew, despite everything you were supposed to be, you felt the faint stirrings of... trust. It was ridiculous, you knew that. Gojo Satoru wasn’t someone you were meant to trust. He was your target. The reason you were here. And yet, every time he called you “kid” or “kiddo,” it chipped away at the wall you had built around yourself.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Gojo suddenly said, his voice softer, his teasing demeanor dialed down a notch. “You’re strong. Smart. Got a good head on your shoulders. You remind me of myself when I was younger.”

The compliment hung in the air, heavy with implication. You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Was this a trap? A test? Did he know? Could he see through you and the purpose that had shaped your life from the start?

“I’m not like you,” you blurted out, the words sharper than you intended. Gojo blinked, taken aback for a split second before that disarming grin returned.

“Eh, maybe not,” he said, shrugging. “But that’s not a bad thing. The world doesn’t need two Gojos running around, anyway.”

There was a twinkle in his smile when he said it, and you could almost laugh at how absurd it all was—this man who was supposed to be untouchable, invincible, speaking to you like you were equals. But you couldn’t laugh. Not when your every instinct screamed at you to pull away, to build back the barriers you were letting crumble.

Gojo tapped your shoulder lightly, pulling you from your thoughts. “Anyway, don’t be a stranger, kiddo. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his retreating figure leaving you standing in the courtyard, more confused than ever. His words echoed in your mind, louder than the commands of your clan, drowning out everything you had been taught.

You had a purpose. You knew that. But with every passing day, Gojo’s light grew harder to ignore, and with it, the lines between duty and something else blurred just a little more.

The day it all fell apart, you had known something was wrong. The air at Jujutsu High felt different, heavier. You felt it in the eyes of your fellow students, in the whispers that followed your steps like shadows. But you pushed it aside. You couldn’t afford to be paranoid, not when your mission was still incomplete.

Then, they came for you.

The higher-ups descended upon you like vultures, swift and merciless. You were cornered before you could even react, their curses restraining you, leaving no room for escape. There was no explanation, no warning. One moment, you were walking through the quiet halls of the school, the next, you were shackled, powerless to move.

“Traitor,” one of them spat, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.

Traitor. The word hit you like a physical blow, even though you knew this moment was inevitable. They had found out. Somehow, the secret you had been born to protect, the purpose that had been hidden deep within you, had unraveled before you could even make your move.

“Wait—” you managed to choke out, but the words were cut off as a curse tightened around your throat, rendering you silent.

It didn’t matter what you had to say. They wouldn’t listen.

Without hesitation, they dragged you through the halls, past the familiar places that had once been a reluctant sanctuary. Your heart pounded, not from fear, but from frustration, from the injustice of it all. You hadn’t betrayed anyone. You hadn’t even acted yet. But that didn’t matter to them. The mere existence of your mission was enough to condemn you.

You were brought before Gojo. His figure loomed in the doorway as you were shoved into the room, your body weak and trembling from the restraints. His face was unreadable beneath the blindfold, and for the first time, the usual warmth he carried was nowhere to be found.

“They’ve told me everything.” His voice was flat, no longer laced with the teasing affection he had once directed at you.

You opened your mouth to speak, to explain, but nothing came out. What could you say? How could you justify your existence, when you had been molded to destroy him? You saw no sympathy in his stance, no compassion in his expression. Gojo Satoru, the man who had once laughed with you, called you “kiddo,” and made you feel like a person—he wasn’t there anymore.

“Take her away,” one of the higher-ups ordered, and without a word of defense, you were dragged from the room.

The arrest was swift. Brutal.

For days, you were left in the darkness. Deprived of food, of water, of any semblance of humanity. Your once-sharp mind dulled under the crushing weight of hunger and thirst. Your body bore the marks of countless interrogation sessions, each one harsher than the last. Bruises lined your arms and legs, dark and angry. Your skin was caked in dirt, your clothes torn from the repeated brutality.

They wanted answers—answers you couldn’t give them. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t have them. The mission had always been shrouded in secrecy, known only to the highest echelons of your clan. You had been a weapon, nothing more, trained to follow orders without question.

But that didn’t stop the interrogations. The demands for information. The relentless accusations.

“You were here to kill him, weren’t you?” one interrogator sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “To kill Gojo Satoru.”

You said nothing. Your voice was too hoarse, too broken to respond, even if you had wanted to. And what could you say? That you were born for it? That every step of your life had been carefully crafted for this singular purpose?

They wouldn’t care. They had already made up their minds.

Hours turned into days, and you lost track of time. The pain became a constant companion, dulling your senses until you could barely feel it anymore. Your body was weak, battered, and your spirit was crumbling under the weight of it all.

But the worst part wasn’t the physical pain.

It was the silence from Gojo.

There was no rescue, no sudden reprieve. The man who had once filled your days with light and laughter hadn’t come for you. He hadn’t defended you. You were nothing more than a mission now—a failed one at that.

In your darkest moments, you thought about the way he had smiled at you, the way he had made you feel like you were more than just a weapon. But it was all na illusion, wasn’t it? A fleeting lie you had allowed yourself to believe.

You were no one. Nothing. Just a tool that had outlived its usefulness.

And now, you were paying the price.

The room was cold. Sterile. The light above flickered faintly, casting weak shadows across the bare walls. You had been left alone for what felt like days again, your wrists raw from the restraints, your body aching from the strain of hunger and exhaustion. The silence was unbearable, almost worse than the interrogation. It gave your mind too much room to wander, to dwell on everything that had happened, on how completely you had failed.

You didn’t expect him to come. Not after all this time. Not after the accusations and the punishments that followed. Gojo Satoru wasn’t someone you thought you’d see again—not after the higher-ups had laid bare your betrayal. But when the door opened, and the familiar white-haired figure stepped through, your heart sank.

He was here.

The Bearer of the Six Eyes.

There was no familiar grin, no teasing lilt in his voice as he stepped into the room, his tall frame dominating the small, confining space. His blindfold was still in place, but you knew he could see you with perfect clarity—your disheveled hair, the bruises on your arms, the dirt staining your once-clean uniform. He could see it all, and yet he remained silent for a long moment, taking in the sight of you in chains.

“You’re a hard one to track down, you know that, kid?” Gojo’s voice, though light as ever, carried na edge you hadn’t heard before.

Kid. It stung now, more than it ever had. It felt like mockery, like a reminder of the bond you had lost—the bond you had destroyed with your silence and your deception. You looked up at him, your gaze bitter, hollow. His presence was still too much, too bright even in this dismal place. You swallowed the bitter taste that rose in your throat, refusing to allow any weakness to show.

“It’s Gojo Satoru now, isn’t it?” you said, your voice raw but firm. “Or maybe you’d prefer Bearer of the Six Eyes?”

The shift in how you addressed him was palpable, heavy with resentment. It wasn’t Gojo-sensei anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to call him that now—not after everything. The title you had once used with some semblance of warmth felt foreign, twisted in your mouth. Gojo stood there, unmoving, the weight of your words hanging between you like a wall.

He frowned, just barely, but enough for you to notice. “Gojo Satoru, huh?” His tone was soft, almost questioning. “That’s a bit formal, don’t you think?”

You didn’t answer, keeping your gaze on the floor, refusing to meet his eyes—Six Eyes, the very thing that had marked him as untouchable. The reason you had been made. You felt sick with anger, with the weight of everything that had been forced upon you, the mission that had led you here, to this moment of utter defeat.

Gojo moved closer, the sound of his footsteps reverberating in the small room, and you felt his presence looming over you. His voice came again, quieter now. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to talk like that.”

You let out a bitter laugh, hollow and strained. “What does it matter now? After everything, do you think I could still call you Gojo-sensei? I’m not your student. I never was. I was a weapon, designed to destroy you.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. You could feel his eyes on you, even behind the blindfold. He was studying you, seeing through your bitterness, through the layers of anger and betrayal you had wrapped yourself in.

“And yet, you didn’t try to kill me,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “If you were really just a weapon, you would’ve made your move by now.”

You clenched your fists, your body trembling with the effort to stay composed. “I couldn’t. I—” The words caught in your throat, too tangled with emotions you didn’t understand. “You don’t get it, Gojo Satoru. You were never supposed to be… like this. You were too—too bright. Too human. It made everything harder.”

For a moment, Gojo said nothing. His expression was unreadable, but you could sense the tension between the two of you—the unspoken things hanging in the air, the weight of your mission pressing down on both of you. Then, without warning, he crouched down in front of you, bringing himself to your level.

“I don’t know what your clan told you, what they made you believe,” he said quietly, his voice almost too soft, “but you’re not just a weapon. I saw you, kid. I still see you.”

You flinched at the word ‘kid,’ but there was no teasing in his tone now. It was just Gojo—Gojo, who had once laughed and joked with you, who had treated you like a person, not na enemy. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He wasn’t supposed to see you. He wasn’t supposed to care.

“You don’t get it,” you repeated, your voice breaking. “This is what I was made for. My whole life—it was all for this. For you.”

Gojo was silent for a long moment, his expression softening. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle but firm. “And now that they’ve thrown you away, what are you going to do?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They used you, kid. They molded you into something to fight me. And now that the higher-ups know, they’re done with you. They don’t care what happens to you.”

His words hit harder than any physical blow. You had always known, deep down, that your clan saw you as nothing more than a tool. But hearing it spoken aloud—hearing Gojo say it—felt like a knife twisting in your gut.

“You don’t have to keep living like this,” Gojo continued, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “You can choose something else.”

You stared at him, disbelief flickering in your eyes. “Choose? What choice do I have left?”

Gojo tilted his head, his tone softening. “You could stay. Stay here, at Jujutsu High. Be my student. For real this time.”

The suggestion hit you like a punch to the chest. Stay? After everything? You shook your head, the weight of the offer too much to bear. “I can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Not after all this. Not after what I was meant to do.”

Gojo remained silent for a moment, as if considering your words. Then he stood up, his tall frame once again towering over you. “You were meant to do a lot of things, kid,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “But maybe it’s time to figure out what you want.”

With that, he turned and left the room, leaving you alone once again. But this time, his words lingered in the air, heavy and full of possibility.

What did you want?

For the first time in your life, you weren’t sure.

Days passed, and with them, the cold, unfeeling walls of your confinement started to feel like a prison not just for your body but for your mind. Your thoughts swirled endlessly in circles, replaying the words Gojo had left you with. His offer to stay. To be his student—for real this time. But after everything you’d been through, after the torture and betrayal, it felt like a cruel joke. How could you possibly belong here?

Yet there was something in his voice that made it hard to dismiss. Something genuine, as though he saw a future for you where you couldn’t.

Late one night, the sound of voices broke through the stillness of your cell. Raised, agitated, echoing down the hall.

“Are you out of your mind, Gojo? She’s dangerous! Her entire purpose is to be a weapon against you!” one of the higher-ups growled.

“That was her clan’s decision, not hers,” Gojo’s voice shot back, sharp as a blade. “She didn’t ask to be born into that. You can’t punish her for what she never had a choice in.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Gojo was fighting for you?

“She’s a liability,” another voice chimed in. “We can’t risk keeping her alive. If she turns on you—”

Gojo’s laughter was cold and bitter. “Turns on me? You’ve already turned on her. You locked her up and tortured her for something she hasn’t even done. And now you’re talking about killing her? You think that’s going to solve anything?”

The silence that followed was heavy, the tension palpable even from your cell. You didn’t know what to think. Gojo was the last person you expected to go against the higher-ups, to stand between you and their judgment. And yet, here he was, doing exactly that.

“You don’t get to make this call, Gojo,” one of the higher-ups snapped. “You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment.”

“My emotions?” Gojo’s voice dropped, cold and dangerous. “If you think I’m doing this out of sentimentality, you’re more delusional than I thought. She has potential. If you kill her now, you’re wasting a resource that could be used to our advantage.”

“Potential?” The disbelief in their tone was unmistakable. “You think she could be of use to us after everything? She’s too unpredictable.”

“That’s because you’ve given her no reason to trust you,” Gojo responded, unyielding. “Let her train. Let her join Jujutsu High. I’ll take responsibility for her. If anything goes wrong, I’ll be the first to know.”

Another long pause followed, thick with hesitation. Finally, one of the higher-ups spoke, his voice clipped. “Fine. But if she steps out of line, she’s dead.”

The weight of their words settled over you like a lead blanket. They were giving you a chance, but only under Gojo’s watch. And the moment you made a wrong move, you’d pay the ultimate price.

Moments later, the door to your cell creaked open, and Gojo’s figure appeared in the doorway, his face obscured but unmistakable.

“Come on, kid,” he said, his tone softer than before. “You’re getting out of here.”

You hesitated, your body weak from confinement, but you pushed yourself to your feet. Every movement was painful, your muscles protesting after days of inactivity, but you forced yourself to stand tall as Gojo led you out of the cell. The air in the hallway was cooler, fresher, but it did little to ease the tension coiled in your chest.

As you walked in silence, following him through the winding halls, the weight of everything crashed down on you. Why was he doing this? Why was he fighting for you?

“You really fought for me,” you muttered as you walked beside him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gojo shrugged, his expression unreadable behind his blindfold. “Of course I did. I wasn’t going to let them throw you away just because they’re scared.”

“But why?” you asked, unable to stop yourself.

He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His expression softened, though you couldn’t see his eyes. “Because if you’re a weapon,” he said, his voice low and steady, “so am I.”

You froze. The words hit you like a punch to the chest, so simple yet so profound. Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the world, was admitting that he, too, was a tool—someone shaped by forces beyond his control.

For the first time, you didn’t have a response. You simply stared at him, the weight of his words pressing down on you.

Gojo didn’t wait for you to recover. He started walking again, his tone shifting back to its usual teasing lilt. “But seriously, just stop calling me ‘Gojo Satoru.’ It’s way too formal, and it makes me feel old.”

Despite everything, you felt a small, reluctant smile tug at the corner of your lips. “What should I call you, then?”

He grinned, though you couldn’t see it, you could hear it in his voice. “Gojo-sensei has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not happening.”

He laughed, the sound light and carefree, as if the darkness of the last few weeks had never touched him. “Fine, fine. Just don’t be so stiff about it, okay?”

The playful tone felt strange after everything, but it was oddly comforting. This was the Gojo you knew, the one who joked and teased, who acted like nothing could ever touch him. And somehow, even after everything, he was still the same.

When you reached the gates of Jujutsu High, Gojo paused, resting a hand on your shoulder. “You can stay here. Train. Learn. Be a student for real this time. But you have to choose it.”

You looked up at him, your chest tight with uncertainty. “What if I can’t? What if I fail?”

He smiled, that familiar, infuriating grin returning at last. “Then we’ll deal with it when it happens. But for now, just focus on being yourself. You don’t have to carry that weight anymore.”

The sincerity in his voice took you by surprise. After so long of being treated as nothing more than a tool, hearing someone speak to you like this felt foreign, strange. You didn’t know how to respond, so you simply nodded, too tired and overwhelmed to say anything.

As you stepped through the gates of Jujutsu High, leaving behind the darkness of your past, Gojo walked beside you, no longer na enemy, no longer a rival, but something else. Something you couldn’t name yet, but for the first time in your life, you felt the faint stirrings of hope.

“Gojo-sensei,” you muttered under your breath, testing the word.

He immediately perked up, flashing you a triumphant grin. “See? I knew you’d come around.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile found its way to your face. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end. Maybe it was the beginning of something new. And this time, you had the choice.

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[blstymcsplode]

Bio

Character name: Blake BIRTH DATE:  1831/May/23.

About:

AGE: Age when cursed: 40.

GENDER:  Male.  

HEIGHT: 5'10"

Character biography:

Blake’s family was poor ever since he was born, despite his father being a very famously known outlaw. His father wasn’t there and had to leave his family, due to his namesake. Not wanting to cause harm to his family. Although, despite it all, they still caught on. Now having to deal with dangerous people, and having nowhere to run, sadly Blake’s mother died due to tuberculosis. Blake alone had to slave his life away. blake was 10 at the time.

It was hard, gruesome and they didn’t treat him as human. Through all hardship, he still smiled, smiling for his mother who he knew was watching over him. This is where he learns to talk politely, cause if he didn’t, he’ll get punished. At the age of 20, The society around him was too new for a child who never experienced it, and he’ll learn it the harsh way. Even at this age, he was innocent and gullible.

Blake would go back to serve someone because that’s the only thing he knew. The good thing about it this time was, it wasn’t under a harsh ruler, he’ll take odd jobs like washing dishes, cleaning, etc. Two years later he’ll meet his soon-to-be wife. He’ll meet her at night when she was crying. She told him the story of her husband, an abusive man, whom she had to leave with her children. It takes years before they fall in love, Blake would help her through a lot of hardship, and get to know her children.

He’ll love them dearly, even if he’ll never have children of his own. While he would be looked down upon, since he did live with a woman who was married before, despite all name calls, he still loved her. They’ll have a small marriage only the kids as the audience and a priest to confirm them. Working hard for another two years, Blake would eventually buy a small piece of land to farm with his family. They’ll live happily. That is, until five years later when the incident happens and he’ll lose them. MARRIED, AND HAD CHILDREN, THE TIME CAME WHERE CONFRONTED WITH HIS FATHER’S ENEMY.  A STRANGE BOX LEFT BY HIS FATHER, HIS MOTHER TOLD HIM IT WAS TO BE KEPT AS A SECRET AND HIDDEN FROM ANYONE WHO TRIES TO OPEN IT. THE BOX ITSELF SEALS AN EVIL WITCH, SHE WAS SEALED BY A GROUP OF HUNTERS, AND THE BOX ITSELF WAS GUARDED, BUT THE OWNER DIED WHEN HIS FATHER RAIDED THEIR HOME. STEALING THE BOX WITH HIM ONLY TO FIND OUT LATER WHAT WAS INSIDE. ANYONE WHO DARES TO OPEN IT WOULD UNSEAL THE EVIL LURK WITHIN. ONE NIGHT IT WAS ACCIDENTALLY OPENED BY HIS CHILDREN, NOT KNOWING WHAT IT WAS AS HE WAS QUIET TO SPEAK. BLAKE PAID A HIGH PRICE FOR THE MISTAKE. THE HOUSE BURNED WITH BLACK FIRE, KILLING BOTH HIS CHILDREN AND WIFE.

BLAKE WAS TURNED INTO AN IMMORTAL, THE WITCH CURSED HIM TO WALK THE EARTH FOREVER AND MAKE SURE HE WOULD WATCH HIS FAMILY DIE. HE WAS ALSO CURSED TO CHANGE INTO A SKELETON AT THE NIGHT ONLY WHILE STAYING A HUMAN DURING THE DAY.

Personality:

BLAKE IS A TIRED INDIVIDUAL, WHO IS ALSO ANGRY AND BITTER ABOUT HIS LIFE AS A WHOLE. YET, BEHIND THAT LOOK HE IS THE MOST CARING INDIVIDUAL YOU’LL EVER SEE. BLAKE IS WHAT YOU CALL AN INNOCENT SOUL, HE CAN’T BAT AN EYE AWAY FROM TROUBLED PEOPLE, HAS TO SAVE THOSE WHO ARE IN NEED, AND WOULD RATHER GIVE HIS LIFE UP FOR THEM. SOMETIMES HE’S A SHY INDIVIDUAL WITH SOCIALIZING SINCE IT HAS BEEN 100 OF YEARS SINCE HE EVER REALLY TALKED WITH SOMEONE PERSONALLY WHICH ALSO LEADS TO AWKWARDNESS. HE IS ALSO A LEARNER, TRIES TO UNDERSTAND THE WORLD AROUND HIM, AND IS GRATEFUL THAT THE CURSE CHOOSES HIM, RATHER THAN SOMEONE ELSE. NOT WANTING TO BURDEN ANYONE.

BLAKE NEVER GETS ANGRY WITH PEOPLE, HE IS RATHER GULIBE IN HIS OWN RIGHT AND THOSE AROUND HIM DO FEEL SORRY FOR THE MAN. HE DOESN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE FUTURE. BLAKE IS ALSO CURIOUS ABOUT HIS SURROUNDINGS, HE WOULD RATHER LEARN ABOUT WHAT’S IN FRONT OF HIM AND LOVES TO READ THE STORY BEHIND IT ALL. BEING THE CURIOUS ONE HE IS, HE WOULD ASK QUESTIONS STRANGE TO SOME, BUT SEEING HOW HE HAD NEVER SEEN ANYTHING OR LEARNED ENOUGH, THE WORLD AROUND HIM WOULD SEEM NEW. LEARNING ANYTHING WITH JOY IN HIS HEART.  

WITH A BIG HEART, BLAKE TENDS TO GET ATTACHED TO PEOPLE PRETTY EASILY. ONCE YOU TEAR DOWN THE SHY WALL AROUND HIM, HE IS A GREAT PERSON TO BE AROUND WITH. BLAKE IS A LISTENER, AND IF YOU’RE FEELING DOWN AND NEED SOMEONE TO TALK WITH OR A SHOULDER TO CRY ON BLAKE IS THE BEST PERSON TO DO SO, HE WON’T FEEL BURDENED BY THE EMOTION THAT IS SHOWN, ONLY BECAUSE HE KNOWS HOW IT FEELS.

Abilities:

BLAKE IS IMMORTAL AND WOULDN’T DIE FROM ANY NORMAL WEAPONS THAT ARE THROWN HIS WAY, ALTHOUGH HE COULD ‘DIE’ HE WOULD GET BACK UP AFTER HIS DEATH.

AFTER HIS DEATH, BLAKE REGENERATES BACK WITHIN AN HOUR, LIKE WAKING UP FROM A SLUMBER.

AN EXCELLENT SHOOTER AND A MARKSMAN.

BLAKE IS CURSED, DURING THE NIGHTS HE’LL TRANSFORM INTO A SKELETON, THE PROCESS IS HORRIBLE WHERE HE’LL LOSE HIS SKIN BY CATCHING ON FIRE.

Weapons items:

Pistol

Shotgun.

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO CATA COSMIA, MARCH 7TH. 🌕

ꕥ — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: logan age: 24 pronouns: he/she ooc contact: lzirus on twt other characters in xc: Zelda

ꕥ — IC INFORMATION;

name: march 7th age: 21 pronouns: she/her series: honkai star rail canon point: patch 2.0 app triggers: amnesia, imprisonment

personality:

at first glance, match 7th acts like your typical sidekick; peppy, quirky, fun and jovial. she enjoys simple things – cute clothes, taking pictures, exploring, hunting… your typical fun girl activities. she is not shallow however, and is the more social member of the astral express crew, showing herself to be endlessly curious, kind and open-minded. march 7th is really a glass-half full kind of girl. she can come off as a little too excitable, though she usually can tell when is the time to be serious, and when to relief the tension with an awkward joke… her cheeky demeanor does get her into a lot of trouble at times.

she likes a challenge, and never backs down, even when knocked on her ass repeatedly. she is one to never give up – on herself or others. though she sometimes appear innocent and naive, march 7th is not one to be underestimated. a self-proclaimed warrior, she excitedly embarks on any adventure offered to her, sometimes without any regard for danger. that makes her a little unpredictable, and thus dangerous (for her team Or for her opponent, who knows…) nevertheless there is not much to say if you only look at her on a surface level.

underneath all of her fun, charismatic attitude hides a girl who is still trying to find herself, and feels incomplete without the knowledge of her past. how ironic that she preservation character keeps her insecurities guarded. having lost all of her memories prior to being found by the astral express crew, march 7th struggles with finding her purpose amongst her friends. she sometimes feel inadequate and out of place amongst them, the odd one out of the group, and dread being useless or a burden to her friends. because of this, she tends to overcompensate with humor and overall silliness. additionally, march 7th lives with the constant fear of being imprisoned and/or having her memories taken from her once again. though she makes light-hearted comments about it, she reveals to her crew that the main reason why she takes pictures of everything is so that she is never left without mementos ever again.

something your muse struggles with: as someone who lost all of her memories, march 7th struggles with finding her purpose, her likes, dislike and desires. though it’s not necessarily all bad, it can cause her to be deeply impulsive short-sighted. she can sometimes lack focus, and show herself to be naive. your muse’s greatest strength: march 7th is incredibly versatile, declaring herself a warrior of the astral express. she’s very protective of her friends, and yet-to-be friends. she is very optimistic and easy going, choosing to see the good in everything and everyone.

history / background:

march 7th does not really have a backstory per say. called the girl from the ice, march 7th was found by the astral express crew imprisoned in six-phased ice, also called eternal ice, just drifting through space. though her prison bore the name of ice, it was more crystal than ice. awoken from her slumber, march 7th had no memories of her past, from her birth to how she found herself frozen in one of the most solid and impenetrable substance in the universe.

she would then call herself march 7th, in honor of the date she was found (i dare you to guess what date it was!) and henceforth joined the astral express crew as a nameless. she hopes that someday, maybe, through her trailblazing adventures, she will find the solution to her hidden past.

she is still at her first few expedition when the team head to belobog, the only area of Jarilo VI that is deemed “habitable”, to investigate stellaron activity. as the planet comes into view, she can’t help but wonder if this is the planet she comes from. she’s quick to hide her thoughts with her usual peppy and jovial attitude however.

belobog is separated into two tier, which were previously united by a route to go back and forth. even for march 7th, who has an affinity for ice, the planet is almost unbearably cold. throughout her expedition, march 7th becomes deeply involved in the conflict between the “surface” population, and the one left to fend for themselves underneath the city. though no traces of her past was found on the planet, she does not hesitate to offer her help in resolving the conflict ravaging the planet’s population. once the stellaron is contained, the team head back to the astral express to prepare for their next destination.

powers / abilities:

Frigid Cold Arrow – a basic attack using a bow, deals ice damage.

The power of Cuteness – provide a shield to an ally using her ability to manipulate 6-phased ice.

Glacial Cascade – a stronger version of Frigid Cold Arrow that can hit multiple enemies and have a high change of leaving them in a frozen state.

Ability to create and manipulate 6-phased ice

inherent abilities:

trained in ranged combat with a bow

higher resistance to cold/ice

items / weapons:

her camera

her bow

scrapbook + journal

starting ability: affinity to manipulate regular ice – not quite 6-phased starting item: her camera

extra:

im very bad at writing backstories im sorry just know that essentially, march 7th does not have any memories prior to joining the astral express crew but she’ll be happy to share her adventures with you all

i write march 7th as trans mtf!!!

she is a really good photographer i swear (what is lighting? angle? framing? idk she’s balling)

oh god oh fuck she’s full of love

discord id: found.march7th passcode: but its july 23rd!!! or osmething. send tweet

[sharplikenedge]

Character name: Blake

About:

AGE: Age when cursed: 36

BIRTH DATE:  1831/May/23.

GENDER:  Male.  

HEIGHT : 5'10"

Character biography:

BLAKE WAS BORN AS A NORMAL HUMAN LIKE MOST, HE LIVED A RELATIVELY NORMAL LIFE IN THE WILD WEST; HIS FATHER, ALTHOUGH A CRIMINAL, FELL IN LOVE WITH HIS MOTHER, ENDED UP LEAVING THE CRIME WORLD, AND SETTLE IN WITH A FAMILY. HE WAS BORN NOT KNOWING THAT HIS FATHER HAD A LOT OF ENEMIES. AS TIME PASSED BY, HAVING TO LIVE HIS LIFE, MARRIED, AND HAD CHILDREN, AND THE TIME CAME WHERE CONFRONTED WITH HIS FATHER’S ENEMY.  A STRANGE BOX LEFT BY HIS FATHER, HIS FATHER TOLD HIM IT WAS TO BE KEPT AS A SECRET AND HIDDEN FROM ANYONE WHO TRIES TO OPEN IT. THE BOX ITSELF SEALS AN EVIL WITCH, SHE WAS SEALED BY A GROUP OF HUNTERS, AND THE BOX ITSELF WAS GUARDED, BUT THE OWNER DIED WHEN HIS FATHER RAIDED THEIR HOME. STEALING THE BOX WITH HIM ONLY TO FIND OUT LATER WHAT WAS REALLY INSIDE. ANYONE WHO DARES TO OPEN IT WOULD UNSEAL THE EVIL LURK WITHIN. ONE NIGHT IT WAS ACCIDENTALLY OPENED BY HIS CHILDREN, NOT KNOWING WHAT IT WAS AS HE WAS QUIET TO SPEAK. BLAKE PAID A HIGH PRICE FOR THE MISTAKE. THE HOUSE BURNED WITH BLACK FIRE, KILLING BOTH HIS CHILDREN AND WIFE.

BLAKE WAS TURNED INTO AN IMMORTAL, THE WITCH CURSED HIM TO WALK THE EARTH FOREVER AND MAKE SURE HE WOULD WATCH HIS FAMILY DIE. HE WAS ALSO CURSED TO CHANGE INTO A SKELETON AT THE NIGHT ONLY WHILE STAYING A HUMAN DURING THE DAY.

Blake’s family was poor ever since he was born, despite his father being a very famously known outlaw. His father wasn’t there and had to leave his family, due to his namesake. Not wanting to cause harm to his family. Although, despite it all, they still caught on. Now having to deal with dangerous people, and having nowhere to run, sadly blake’s mother died due to tuberculosis. Blake alone had to basically slave his lives away. blake was 10 at the time.

It was hard, gruesome and they didn’t treat him as human. Through all hardship, he still smiled, smiling for his mother who he knew was watching over him. This is where he learns to talk politely, cause if he didn’t, he’ll get punished. At the age of 20, The society around him was too new for a child who never experienced it, and he’ll learn it the harsh way. Even at this age, he was innocent and gullible.

Blake would go back to serve someone because that’s the only thing he knew. The good thing about it this time was, it wasn’t under a harsh ruler, he’ll take odd jobs like washing dishes, cleaning, etc. Two years later he’ll meet his soon-to-be wife. He’ll meet her at night when she was crying. She told him the story of her husband, an abusive man, whom she had to leave with her children. It takes years before they fall in love, blake would help her through a lot of hardship, and get to know her children.

He’ll love them dearly, even if he’ll never have children of his own. While he would be looked down upon, since he did live with a woman who was married before, despite all name calls, he still loved her. They’ll have a small marriage only the kids as audience and a priest to confirm them. Working hard for another two years, Blake would eventually buy a small land to farm with his family. They’ll live happily. That is, until five years later when the incident happens and he’ll lose them.

Personality:

BLAKE IS A TIRED INDIVIDUAL, WHO IS ALSO ANGRY AND BITTER ABOUT HIS LIFE AS A WHOLE. YET, BEHIND THAT LOOK HE IS THE MOST CARING INDIVIDUAL YOU’LL EVER SEE. BLAKE IS WHAT YOU CALL AN INNOCENT SOUL, HE CAN’T BAT AN EYE AWAY FROM TROUBLED PEOPLE, HAS TO SAVE THOSE WHO ARE IN NEED, AND WOULD RATHER GIVE HIS LIFE UP FOR THEM. SOMETIMES HE’S A SHY INDIVIDUAL WITH SOCIALIZING SINCE IT HAS BEEN 100 OF YEARS SINCE HE EVER REALLY TALKED WITH SOMEONE PERSONALLY WHICH ALSO LEADS TO AWKWARDNESS. HE IS ALSO A LEARNER, TRIES TO UNDERSTAND THE WORLD AROUND HIM, AND IS GRATEFUL THAT THE CURSE CHOOSES HIM, RATHER THAN SOMEONE ELSE. NOT WANTING TO BURDEN ANYONE.

BLAKE NEVER GETS ANGRY WITH PEOPLE, HE IS RATHER GULIBE IN HIS OWN RIGHT AND THOSE AROUND HIM DO FEEL SORRY FOR THE MAN. HE DOESN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE FUTURE. BLAKE IS ALSO CURIOUS ABOUT HIS SURROUNDINGS, HE WOULD RATHER LEARN ABOUT WHAT’S IN FRONT OF HIM AND LOVES TO READ THE STORY BEHIND IT ALL. BEING THE CURIOUS ONE HE IS, HE WOULD ASK QUESTIONS STRANGE TO SOME, BUT SEEING HOW HE HAD NEVER SEEN ANYTHING OR LEARNED ENOUGH, THE WORLD AROUND HIM WOULD SEEM NEW. LEARNING ANYTHING WITH JOY IN HIS HEART.  

WITH A BIG HEART, BLAKE TENDS TO GET ATTACHED TO PEOPLE PRETTY EASILY. ONCE YOU TEAR DOWN THE SHY WALL AROUND HIM, HE IS A GREAT PERSON TO BE AROUND WITH. BLAKE IS A LISTENER, AND IF YOU’RE FEELING DOWN AND NEED SOMEONE TO TALK WITH OR SHOULDER TO CRY ON BLAKE IS THE BEST PERSON TO DO SO, HE WON’T FEEL BURDENED BY THE EMOTION THAT IS SHOWN, ONLY BECAUSE HE KNOWS HOW IT FEELS.

Abilities:

BLAKE IS IMMORTAL AND WOULDN’T DIE FROM ANY NORMAL WEAPONS THAT ARE THROWN HIS WAY, ALTHOUGH HE COULD ‘DIE’ HE WOULD GET BACK UP AFTER HIS DEATH.

AFTER HIS DEATH, BLAKE REGENERATES BACK WITHIN AN HOUR, LIKE WAKING UP FROM A SLUMBER.

AN EXCELLENT SHOOTER AND A MARKSMAN.

BLAKE IS CURSED, DURING THE NIGHTS HE’LL TRANSFORM INTO A SKELETON, THE PROCESS IS HORRIBLE WHERE HE’LL LOSE HIS SKIN BY CATCHING ON FIRE.

Weapons items:

Pistol

Shotgun.

[comm-caribou]

Had a long day at work, and drew some of my troops in my downtime. Here’s Commander Hardwire, clone pilot Baby, and clone medic Boomerang

And five random facts about each below the cut:

Hardwire:

Hardwire was in an explosion that burnt the left side of his face and has some slight scarring also on his arm and ribs

He did have a ringing in his ear for a month, but will pretend he still has it to get out of conversations and other situations

Hardwire is incredibly awkward, which gets confused as being serious even though he’s very relaxed

He identifies as asexual, but the option of being in romantic relationship is not off the table

He keeps in touch with the Coruscant Guard (mostly Fox) and just chat on occasion, and meet up when the 952nd are on leave

Baby:

He is a bit of a grump, but he’s really nice once you get to know him

His co-pilot is Radar, who is has an odd sense of humor that rubbed off on Baby resulting him calling the General “mum”

If Radar had it his way, his name would’ve been Dipstick (“because it’s funny”)… Baby chose the other option

Baby is mostly the one flying, and he flies fast (mostly fighters, occasionally a gunship)

Baby keeps his hair long not because he likes it, but because he’s too lazy to get it cut until it’s length that is inconvenient for him

Boomerang:

When he is stressed he has to go though his medical pack and make sure it’s stocked over and over again until he’s sure it’s all right where it is suppose to be

He doesn’t like being away from Mirage. Ever since they met, he decided “this idiot is my favorite brother and I will die for him”

While Boomerang wants a girlfriend or boyfriend, he doesn’t want to burden someone with worry while he’s away (he’s bisexual)

He only has one scar, it’s through his right shoulder where he was shot rescuing a fallen brother. After he got them to safety, he went back into the field to find more without getting checked out (and he got his name then too, “because he always comes right back”)

Even though he knew it was unlikely, he researched pregnancy and childbirth in case Juliette ever did become pregnant and need to give birth (spoiler alert: he did have to do this!)

[jasmariswonderland]

🌷Ione Haruka, First Year NRC Student Twisted from the Iris from Alice in Wonderland 🌷

Character Tag | Character Playlist | Overblot Playlist | Aesthetic | Personal Stories | Voice Claim | Cards | Inspiration

TW/CW: Ione’s backstory includes mentions of postpartum death. 

🌷Introduction/Description🌷

Name: Ione Haruka (A/N: Her name is pronounced EE-OHNN, the ‘e’ in her name is silent) 

Other Names: Miss Priss (Ace and Grim), Wallflower (Vil and Iman), Reine de Glace (Rook), Blowfish (Floyd)

Age: 16

Birthday/Starsign: May 31st (Gemini) 

Height: 170CM

Eye Color: Lapis Blue

Hair Color: Violet

Homeland: Queendom of Roses

Family: Yolanda Haruka (mother, deceased), William Haruka (father) Issaic Haruka (older brother), Marian Haruka (older sister), Estelle Haruka (older sister)

Dorm: Heartslabyul 

School Year: Freshman

Class: 1-C (No. 12) 

Club(s): Board Game Club and Black Swans (main member)

Best Subject: Defensive Magic

Dominant Hand: Left 

Favorite Food: Tea Sandwiches

Least Favorite Food: Cherries  

Dislikes: People who break rules, dishonesty, and being yelled at  

Hobbies: Reading, writing in her journal and caring for animals

Talents: Memorizing things

~~~

🌷Background🌷

The earliest thing Ione can remember is being held by her mother soon after she was born. When she thinks hard enough she can almost make out an image of her face; her long hair the same color as her own, and her teary, agonized smile. Ione focuses on this memory often because sadly, it’s the only one she has of her mother because she died soon after her birth. Sadder still, Ione grew up under a cloud of resentment, formed by her father’s grudge against her birth. He is an emotionally distant man; naturally cold, traditionally minded, and never the same after the death of his wife. And he had no idea how to raise four children without a mother and often takes his sorrow out on them. 

Ione’s three older siblings are far kinder to her and try to shield her from their father’s resentment but her home life was still anything but easy. Her father seems to especially resent Ione because of her name (her eldest sister names her because her father was too consumed with grief and couldn’t be bothered), similar to her mother’s name, and her appearance which bears some similarity to her mother as well. He goes out of his way to make sure Ione has no pride in her appearance with his cold words to her that often border on verbally abusive. This has colored Ione’s worldview and she genuinely believes the fact that she looks like her mother makes her ugly (despite seeing photos of her and finding her beautiful). She also blames herself for her mother’s death, something she believes well into her adolescence until Crisanta begins to convince her otherwise.

To escape her father’s anger and hopefully not be a burden on him, Ione focused deeply on being the model child. Going out of her way not to cause trouble, not speak up even when she wants to, and generally taking up as little space as possible. She hopes to earn his approval with her obedience and over time, his manner has improved some. But there is still a cold distance between them and sadly, this has resulted in Ione somewhat becoming like her father in a way. She’s not as cruel but she has become very socially awkward and emotionally inept. These are things she’s often taunted for in school which in turn has further embittered her to the world around her. 

Deep down, Ione wants to be liked, loved, and wants to have more confidence but she has no idea about how to go about this. She’s very inspired by different idol groups and when she was attending TGA, deeply admired Danica and her friends from afar. Many times she considered auditioning to join the idol club but she never did. Her father’s disproval being the major reason. He has his own ideas for what Ione should want in her life and is currently arranging for Ione to marry the son of a family friend after she graduates NRC. She’s really not interested in marriage at the moment but still craves her father’s approval so is remaining silent on the matter. Her only solace is being away from home for school. 

~~~~~

🌷Appearance🌷

Ione has a milky white complexion set off by naturally ruddy cheeks. Her skin is also lightly freckled with most of her freckles along her forehead, arms, and back. Her eyes are the color of lapis stones and she wears large round glasses. According to Vil, her appearance without glasses is quite pretty, but she prefers to wear them and feels awkward wearing contact lenses. 

Her shoulder-length violet hair is usually tied into a ponytail but she will wear it loose with her Black Swan clubwear. She wears her school uniform with a buttoned blazer, black gloves and white over-the-knee socks. When wearing her dorm uniform, Ione also wears a single strand of pearls that once belonged to her late mother. 

~~~

🌷Personality🌷

Ione is very prim and proper with a deep respect for authority. She lives by a very strict code of personal conduct and rarely allows herself to break it. When she does try to be social, she often comes off as very awkward so for the most part, she doesn’t even try. As a result, she doesn’t have many friends besides Crisanta. 

Though in different grades, Crisanta is very interested in helping Ione be less aloof and longs to see her laugh and smile more. Likely due to their similar broken family backgrounds. In a sense, Ione represents what Crisanta could be and vice versa

~~~~~

🌷Unique Magic🌷

Ione’s unique magic is called Bitter Weeds and allows her to create and manipulate flowering plants (especially weeds) for combative purposes. She can use her UM to create large bunches of weeds to impede mobility and even choke enemies with them. 

~~~

🌷Other Skills/Talents 🌷

🌷 Botanic Magic ~ Even before discovering her UM, Ione always had a knack for plant based magic and she’s memorized over 300 kinds of plants and flowers used for potionology. 

🌷 Singing ~ Ione has a very beautiful voice according to several people but she never really sang before coming to NRC. 

🌷 Animal Linguistics/Telepathy ~ Ione has always been good with animals but it wasn’t until coming to NRC that she began taking animal linguistics and realized that she has a special connection to them. 

~~~

🌷Trivia/Lore🌷

(A/N: This section will be further updated over time) 

Ione has memorized 500 rules of the Queen of Hearts, not as many as Riddle but more than Trey. Needless to say, Riddle holds Ione in high regard even after Book 1. 

She loves small animals evident by her keeping a ferret and one of her favorite things to do is take care of the Heartslabyul hedgehogs. 

Her only regret about attending NRC is the fact she had to leave her pet ferret at home. 

Ione is one of of three twst ocs who I’ve written a potential overbot plot for in the future.

~~~

🌷 In-Canon Adventures🌷

🌷 Prologue ~ Ione caught Riddle’s attention immediately due to being one of the few freshman actually behaving herself during orientation. Jade and Azul briefly accosted her but Riddle immediately went to her defense. When Yuulan and Grim crashed the ceremony, Ione’s robe was caught in Grim’s flames and she was badly burned. As upset as she was, Riddle was far more upset and personally healed her burns. Later, during the Heartslabyul welcome party, Ione had the privilege of sitting next to Riddle and Trey where she displayed her knowledge of the rules of the Queen of Hearts and further earned her dorm leaders’ approval. 

🌷 Book 1 ~ Ione kept her nose down through most of the happenings of Book 1 and had little sympathy for Ace since she felt his tart theft put him at fault first. She also did not like how Yuulan and Grim were meddling in the affairs of her dorm, as she felt it to be. She and Crisanta tried to press Ace to apologize to Riddle several times and Ione even went so far to say that even if Ace is right about Trey enabling Riddle, it doesn’t matter because all Ace cares about is how it affects him. By the time of Riddle’s OB, Ione was the only one to remain loyal to him and this only changed when Riddle accidentally collared Ione in a fit of rage where he mass collared several students at once. Riddle’s OB left Ione incredibly traumatized, especially since it brought back a lot of unpleasant memories from her past and she spent that evening crying herself to sleep. However, Ione relationship with Riddle has not changed but while Riddle’s personality has improved over time, Ione’s has not. 

🌷Book 2 ~ Ione spent the majority of Book 2 helping Crisanta heal after she was targeted by Ruggie. She did recover enough to attend the tournament and she and Ione were nearly caught up in the stampede before Silver pulled them away. 

🌷 Book 3 ~ Sadly, Ione did go to Azul for help with her exams and sadder still, was actually ONE POINT under making the top 50. Ione later told Crisanta that the exams actually weren’t that difficult for her and she felt she could have passed on her own. Nevertheless, Ione was forced into indentured servitude to the Monstro Lounge along with Ace, Deuce and Grim. Azul was slightly nicer to her as a fellow club member and because she didn’t complain much but the Tweels took a lot of pleasure in tormenting her even when she did what she was told. Crisanta tried to talk to Azul to set her free with no success and even after the end of Book 3, both girls don’t have the best opinion of him.

🌷 Book 4 ~ Ione returned to the Queendom of Roses for winter break and as of Book 5, is not fully aware of what happened at Scarabia. She’s heard some rumors and hear Taima and Iman hint at it, but that’s about it. To learn more about Ione’s winter break adventures, read here.

🌷 Book 5 ~ Ione auditions for the VDC with Crisanta and both get accepted. From the beginning, Ione has trouble keeping up with the training in spite of having a beautiful singing voice. Things are made worse when Crisanta drops out. For more about Ione’s Book 5 adventures, read here.

~~~

🌷Relationships (As Of Book 5)🌷

A ~ Ione’s relationship with Riddle is probably the best she has besides her relationship with Crisanta and arguably Idia. Considering they come from similarly strict households and from the same country, it makes sense. From the start, Ione’s ability to follow rules without question and her adherence to strict decorum put her in Riddle’s good graces and she’s the only freshman thus far that he hasn’t needed to discipline. Ione for her part respects Riddle greatly and constantly strives to make a good impression on him. Even after Riddle’s overblot, Ione is still loyal to him and cares about him though it’s completely platonic on her part. Riddle on the other hand…

B ~ On the completely opposite side of the coin however, Ione HATES Ace and vice versa. It was a mutual hatred started by Ace making fun of Ione during the Heartslabyul welcome party and Riddle fiercely rebuking him for it. Beyond that, he finds her snobbish and high strung and openly teases her, mainly because he knows he can’t get away with that with Riddle. Ione in turn finds him very rude and she’ll never forgive him for punching Riddle for something that was lowkey his fault in the first place, the way she see’s it. 

C ~  Sadly, Ione get’s caught up in the Octavinelle schemes of Book 3 in her desperation to be at the academic top of her class. She actually misses being in the top 50 by 1 rank but that meant she had to be enslaved to work for Azul for a while. Even after his overblot, she never really see’s him as more than a sleezy, underhanded person. 

D ~ Idia and Ione are similarly introverted though Ione is only the slightest bit better at socialization. But she does empathize with Idia and they enjoy playing games together. She’s one of the few at NRC that he actually likes. 

E ~ The main reason Ione and Sebek don’t get along is their fierce loyalty to their respective dorm leaders. They may or may not have gotten into heated arguments about which dorm leader is superior. 

🌷Ione’s Relationships With My Other Twst OCs 🌷

Yuulan ~ Ione doesn’t think much of Yuulan at first because of her lack of magic ability and also because she HATES Grim. Throughout Book 1 she feels like Yuulan is simply meddling in issues she has no stake in and feels that Riddle is completely in the right. They become slightly more civil over time but Ione’s prickly attitude (along with Ace’s dislike of Ione) means they likely will never be anything like friends.

Sidonie ~ Because Sidonie is a frequent visitor to her dorm, they have met on occasion a few times. Sidonie feels that Ione has a good heart and Ione feels that Sidonie is sensible and since Riddle thinks well of her, so does she. 

Lilianne and Minette ~ Ione attended TGA with Minette, Danica, Taima and Lilianne. Though she wasn’t close to any of them, she was on slightly better terms with Minette as they also went to elementary school together. And after the VDC, they’ve all had the opportunity to know each other better.

Ayse ~ Ione and Ayse meet during the VDC and while they’re on rival teams, Ayse takes an immediate liking to Ione. Something Ione finds very perplexing at first but as they get to know each other, Ione realizes that she quite likes Ayse as well. And may or may not have a crush on her…

~~~

🌷Cards🌷 

(Will be updated over time)

[kuramirocket]

undefined

Mexico's new trans policy could prevent misgendering

Mexico is on a path of change – even surpassing the United States – in one of its new transgender policies.

Transgender people, who were born in Mexico and live in the U.S., can now change the name and gender on their birth certificates to correspond with their gender identities, by just walking into a consulate office – something Georgia born citizens can’t do.

When their gender marker doesn’t match their appearance, transgender people say they are subjected to discrimination – interrogation – and sometimes, violence. An amended birth certificate not only acknowledges their gender identity but also offers them protection.

One of the first Mexican-born transgender women in Georgia to make the change talks with a reporter.

Aubrianna’s Story:

A decades long dream is now a reality for Aubrianna Escalera, as she receives her amended birth certificate from the Mexican Consulate in Atlanta.

“We were finally acknowledged and respected as transgender women",” said Aubrianna Escalera, one of the first Mexican-born transgender women in Georgia to receive her amended birth certificate. “It’s so nice. For medical reasons, work reasons, tax purposes, it helps with everything.”

Escalera was also able to get a new passport and with it – a sense of completeness and an ownership of her identity.

The Mexico Consulate in Atlanta has already issued 23 amended birth certificates, since this policy was enacted on January 20, 2022.

“We are very proud of the steps Mexico has taken in recent years toward being progressive, toward recognizing the needs and rights of everybody,” said Javier Díaz de León Cónsul General of México in Atlanta. “It is important to tear down barriers and to tear down preconceptions that are out there. It’s hard to imagine the difficult life someone would go through when they have a certain identity and they behave in a certain way, and they want to be recognized that way but they have a document; a passport or a birth certificate that says a different thing. That creates awkward and difficult situations every single day. Taking that away is a tremendous burden off their shoulders.”

Aubrianna Escalera and Consul General Javier Díaz de León

“Me growing up, I never was around trans girls like myself. I never even knew trans girls existed like myself,” Escalera said.

Escalera immigrated to the U.S. from Mexico when she was a toddler – spending her childhood in Savannah, Georgia. Then, she moved to Atlanta.

“Atlanta has a large Latin community and a large Latin community within that trans community,” Escalera added.

But with those friendships have also come hardships.

Transgender violence:

2021 was the deadliest on record for transgender and gender non-conforming people, with at least 50 deaths across the country, according to data compiled by CBS46 Investigates and the Human Rights Campaign.

Three of those deaths took place in Georgia.

In one of the victim’s cases, officers said the reporting was “based on sex and not gender.” CBS46 Investigates was also told that “the Georgia ID provided the name and sex.”

It’s called "deadnaming" – and Escalera believes that legally changing ones name and gender marker can stop it from happening.

“If I was to decease, I wouldn't have to worry about me going through the system and being identified as just another male who passed away who indulged in women's clothing. It's not our life and it's not our story, Escalera added.

Mexico vs. United States:

CBS46 Investigates wanted to know how updating identity documents in Mexico, compares to the United States.

What we uncovered: it depends what state you were born in and what state you live in.

In Georgia: you need proof of gender-affirming surgery or a court order- neither of which is needed under Mexico’s new rules.

“Everyone living in the United States has to deal with a different set of bureaucratic hurdles to get their identity documents in order,” said policy director at National Center for Transgender Equality. “The ease to which Mexican-born trans people can now update their documents demonstrates that there’s no need for it to be lengthy drawn out process. It demonstrates that we need to modernize our systems for handling identity documents across the United States. If Mexico can do it, there’s no reason that any other country in the world can’t do it.”

The policy director went on to say that Georgia is one of the most difficult states to update your identity documents.

In a survey titled ‘How Trans Friendly Is The Driver’s License Gender Marker Change Policy In Your State,’ the National Center for Transgender Equality gave Georgia an ‘F.’

Requirements:

Mexicans from the transgender community living in the U.S. can request an amended birth certificate at a Mexican consular office.

It is a free and confidential process. Applicants must bring with them:

Mexican birth certificate

Official identification

Two witnesses

Minors must be accompanied by their parents or legal guardians

To make an appointment, applicants should send an email with their name and phone number to: regcivilatl02@sre.gob.mx

[rollo-in-the-wild]

Mason Gooding & they/he demi-boy‷ watch out , Rollo Moore has crash-landed into roswell !! they look 29 years old and celebrate their birthday on 29/01. they are from Roswell, New Mexico, reside in Trip’s Trailer Park and are currently working as a Graphic Designer. one thing you should know about them is they are obsessed with dogs‷

BIRTH NAME: Spruce Rollo Moore NICKNAME: Sprucy, Rollo AGE+DOB: 29 years old GENDER: demi-boy PRONOUNS: they/he NATIONALITY: American ETHNICITY: White (father) and African American (mother) EDUCATION: Graphic Design Bachelor PLACE OF BIRTH: Unknown CURRENT LOCATION: Roswell, New Mexico OCCUPATION: Graphic Designer RELIGION: Atheist FAMILY: the Moore’s FACECLAIM: Mason Gooding SEXUALITY: Pansexual MARITAL STATUS: single RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

BIOGRAPHY

(death tw)On the day Spruce was born, they lost their mother. Though it would take years to figure out that the woman who helped raise them wasn’t their mother, it always felt like a part was missing. Their father, reluctant as he was to take care of a child born out of wedlock, brought them back to Roswell with him, an additional burden placed upon the family. It seemed too harsh to put such a young child into the system when they were perfectly capable of taking care of them. And as much as the father had clearly made a mistake, he would not let go of the child either.

So Spruce grew up surrounded by their half-siblings, always knowing they looked a little odd in comparison, but not making the dots connect until a kid at school started making jokes about it.

And perhaps they had always known. The mother who raised them could be warm and sweet and kind, but at times when she would normally offer patience to her other children, she was much harsher towards them. Their other siblings seemed to act a similar way around them, as if they all knew without knowing. But they were still tight, Spruce would never say they weren’t. The reason it took so long to figure out was because despite the little things that were off at times, they were still part of something bigger than themselves. They were included, wanted, late nights of storytelling, playing outside. They always had someone looking out for them, and in return they would always look out for the others.

Spruce loved dogs growing up, they would always opt to go for walks with all the dogs in the Trailer Park. They got really good at grooming, taking care of the little ones, making sure they ate, and even administering drugs. They knew they wanted to be a veterinarian when they grew up. Most people told them they would find something else to grab their attention, but Spruce didn’t want to believe them.

When the divorce happened, Spruce ended up right in the middle without wanting to. The forward knowledge that had now settled itself in the family, that they were only related to their siblings through their father, was often brought up when arguments got heated. When a decision had to be made, Spruce went with their dad.

Knowing they still had that tight family somewhere got them in a slump. Some days they could barely get out of bed, wondering what they could’ve done differently to make the family stay together. They blamed themselves, for being born in the first place, and nobody told them otherwise.

Spruce ended up studying to become a graphic designer, even though their dream of being a veterinarian was still there, there was something about just sitting in their room drawing that made them feel better about the world outside. They were never very good, but through their father’s contacts, they got enough jobs to get them on the road. Making posters, flyers, etc. Any type of advertisement that they could possibly invest in. It wasn’t lucrative, but it paid the bills, and Spruce was used to just making ends meet anyway.

When their not-mother got sick, Spruce sent back messages, awkward as they were about it, they felt some responsibility towards the siblings they left behind. After weeks of beating themselves up about it, they left for Roswell.

HEADCANONS

Has two dogs: Rufus and Reynolds, they’re both nonspecific race dogs, from nests nobody wanted.

Obviously always looked different from their siblings, but somehow managed to create this reality for themselves where that didn’t matter. Convincing themselves time and time again that it was completely possible, that skin colour could change from one kid to the other, that you didn’t need to share facial features to be family. 

Changed their name to Rollo in the spring of 2022. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

High school sweetheart

School friends

People with dogs

[httpsohnpouts]

𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧. | 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: royal!younghoon x lady’s maid!fem reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: angst but not really + fluff // enemies to friends

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: younghoon’s a bit sassy/socially awkward but nth too extreme

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.5k

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: happy (belated) birthday my beaby @chaoticdeobi, ily endlessly, i hope you like it! i hope you had a great day!

the hall was grand, to say the least. the walls painted in the finest mix of white tie and matchstick; but to any common eye, the paint was just simply cream. portraits of the family’s ancestors hung perfectly on said walls, golden plaques engraved with their names and the years from birth to death, situated just below them.

you could say the hall was the largest part of the building but yet, younghoon was always found hiding away in the undercroft. his time well spent at the very end, paintbrush in hand as he delicately placed the brush onto the canvas, an elegant piece forming in its wake; finding comfort and solace in the peace that he got, a break from his reality, hence why his father had gifted him the space and the utensils for his twelfth birthday.

a slight sigh left younghoon’s slightly ajar lips of concentration, brows knitting together as he couldn’t quite get the right angle of his paintbrush, “it won’t work if you’re holding it so awkwardly.” it took the man by surprise, spilling his water pot over his fresh set of white trousers, nobody ever wandered into his space during the day as the staff working in the castle feared him and his intimidating gaze nor did they ever sneak up on him upon knowing of his tendency to become scared easily.

fury burning in his eyes as his fresh whites absorbed more and more of the tainted water as he sat there, whipping his head in the direction of the voice who stood behind him, arms folded and they leaned against the porcelain walls, legs crossed in a way that just screamed arrogance.

“excuse me, who the hell do you think you are sneaking up on a royal, did you not see the ‘do not disturb’ sign?” with a sigh, younghoon scurried to wipe off his trousers - not that it would do anything considering fabric isn’t waterproof and the damage was already done - huffing again, “oh, forget it. clean this up, i take it you’re a maid? now if you excuse me.”

it was dinner time now, and everybody knew that the king wanted the whole family to sit around the dining table together, occasionally discuss important business him and his wife had to deal with, or something they wanted younghoon to participate in against his will; but in his eyes, it was all apart of the family bonding.

“where’s mother?” younghoon asked as he adjusted his newly fixed hair, the constant puffing of breath out of his lips having messed it up. watching the kitchen staff busily prepare the table for their meal.

“one of the cleaning workers knocked over your mother’s glass of wine and it went all over her new gown. she’ll be down in a few- oh look, she’s coming here now.”

placing her palm upon her husband’s shoulder, younghoon’s mother took her seat at the dinner table, a familiar face following behind and standing to the side of the room with the other staff, you. you were his mother’s lady maid. if it were anybody else, he would’ve apologised for the tone he gave you earlier when he mistook you for part of the cleaning staff.. but what right did you of all people have spying on him in his private space?

“son? are you listening?” his father called to him, realisation hitting younghoon that he hadn’t stopped gaping at you since you walked in the room. adjusting his collar before prompting his father to continue speaking.

“as i was saying, your mother and i have to leave the country for a few days. you are in charge of taking care of your sister whilst we’re gone as well as the staff. we trust you with this son, don’t disappoint us,”

“oh and y/n, you will be staying here for the time being, your services aren’t necessary on this trip. you’ll be in charge of our daughter when younghoon is busy, understood?” whilst younghoon’s father was a kind and generous man, he definitely wasn’t the most respected man in the castle for no reason. his striking and powerful demeanour spread for miles, no one dared to disobey the king, not knowing exactly what he’s capable of but not wanting to find out either.

younghoon’s parents were gone for most of his childhood, along through his teenage years and then into his early adulthood. so it’s safe to say he grew up isolated and alone for most of his life. his only source of socialisation was when his sister was born seven years ago, when he was seventeen. they’re practically attached at the hip, wherever younghoon went, his sister followed and vice versa. his sister was mature for her age, much like younghoon himself, she had to learn how to take care of herself from an early age; that included knowing how to dress appropriately, know how to do her own hair and makeup for any special occasions the family hosted or attended to as well as the basics on how to behave as a royal should. the only difference between the siblings was that now, younghoon had responsibilities he had to take care of- preparing to be king once his father passes or if he steps down from the throne, maintaining a clean record as well as the constant fear of practically falling apart at the seams.

it wasn’t and still isn’t the ideal life for one to live, seeking his father’s approval and permission for pretty much everything he does. the burden weighing upon his shoulders just itching to make his knees buckle and collapse, making it hard for him to do pretty much anything “normal” like making friends or doing typical things you’d do in your twenties; it wasn’t that he liked people keeping their distance from him, nor the fact that everybody in the castle had their own misconceptions on him and his behaviour, all of which turn their topic of conversations onto him whenever he walks into the room.

it was a couple of days later when younghoon found himself sitting on the top of a hill just outside of the castle gates, observing the vast and majestic view that clouded the sky. the blue replaced by a faint red hue whilst the clouds floated aimlessly. the only sounds heard consisted of younghoon’s breathing, the small flow of water beside him and the odd bird that flew by every now and then. he can’t remember the last time he felt pure peace. everything being far too fast to keep up, like a black hole or a tornado, something you’re quickly swept up into until you completely disappear and break.

“they’re going absolutely mad looking for you in the castle, sir.”

you.

without sparing you a glance, younghoon let out a sigh, his shoulders tensing slightly at the thought of going back to the place that causes far too much stress.

unpropping yourself from a nearby rock, settling a comfortable space from younghoon, staring out at the landscape that looked like it just came out of a painting.

“what’re you doing here?”

“i came to find you, duh. they’re going sick at the thought of you having fled the country or something.”

“no, seriously. what’re you doing here?”

“contrary to belief, sir, but i actually want to be your friend. not your foe, regardless of how hard you try to push me away. don’t you ever get lonely in that big place?”

younghoon snickered at that, “you think you know me huh?”

“not at all. that’s why i’m saying i want to, i know what it’s like to have my childhood swept from between my feet, floating between self-doubt and uncertainty of what i’m going to do with my life and how i’m even going to do it on my own. i know far too well what it’s like to be alone my whole life, my parents either too busy preoccupied with work or too tired to spend time with me when they get home at the end of the night.”

for the first time, it felt like someone wasn’t pitying him, or mistaking his standoff-ish personality for something for malice and ill-intended. for the first time, he felt heard and understood.

“how about a restart?”

“huh?”

younghoon was turned towards you now, his hand extended to you, “hi. i’m younghoon. not prince younghoon, not sir, just younghoon.”

“nice to meet you, just younghoon, im y/n. i hope we can be great friends.”

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 3

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,587

Warnings: none

A/N: I wanted to give Reader a family and this is the easiest way to do it. Btw Peggy’s husband isn’t Steve, I have other plans for him ;) Enjoy!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

The rest of the week went by, and you kept hoping Bucky would come back. You hadn’t seen him since he’d left 300 dollars under his napkin after visiting you at work. You had tucked the bills into your bra, knowing they would be safe there, and walked home at the end of your shift.

Now it was Thursday afternoon and you were craving a day off.

Natasha’s apartment was spacious and the oversized glass window bathed the living room in natural sunlight. The apartment was a gift from Sam. Obviously.

You dropped your purse on the sofa –your bed- and laid out the bills on the coffee table. It was made of marble and brass, another gift from Sam.

You didn’t know what to do with the money, so you took it wherever you went, to keep it safe. You wanted to return it to Bucky. It was too much and you weren’t used to random acts of kindness.

You sunk into the cushion and blew out a sigh as you stared at the money. The persistent vibration of your phone against your thigh pulled you out of your thoughts. Half expecting it to be Natasha, you answered without looking at the caller ID.

The operator told you that Scott Lang was calling from Saint Quentin State Prison, and asked if you would accept the charges. You agreed. You always agreed.

“Splotchy, I need your help.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the cushion. “I told you to stop calling me that, Scott.”

It was a silly nickname.

As a child, your mother dubbed you splotchy because of the colourful doodles you painted on the living room walls, and your siblings, who were roughly a few years older than you, had loved using that nickname. Especially since they knew you disliked it.

Their support and endless enthusiasm played a big part in your artistic journey, nurturing that spark into a flame. What started out as a childlike fascination with colours and shapes became your whole life. No one was surprised when you decided to pursue a degree in fine arts.

After the death of her husband, Peggy Carter adopted five children; a little boy from San Francisco, a little girl from Wakanda, twins from Sokovia and a little girl whose birth parents were still in high school. You were the last one, the only one she adopted as a baby.

“Is it offensive to call an artist splotchy?”

“It’s irrelevant. I haven’t painted in months,” you replied. “And we’re not kids anymore, you can use my name.”

“I’ve been calling you Splotchy for so long, I forgot your actual name.”

“You’re so funny,” you deadpanned. “What do you need, Scott?”

Scott’s tone changed suddenly, his voice grew agitated. “I need you to call Maggie. She isn’t picking up when I call her.”

“Scott,” you sighed.

“I haven’t talked to Cassie since her birthday,” he cut you off, pleading. “Please, I just want to talk to my little girl.”

Maggie was Scott’s ex-wife. Six months after his incarceration, she had filed for divorce. Natasha thought it was a real dick move but you didn’t blame Maggie. She was alone, her husband was in jail –for basically being a dumbass although the official charge was embezzlement and destruction of property- and she had a kid to raise.

Maggie wasn’t a saint but she was a good mother, and Cassie was a smart and healthy kid. Now you knew what to do with Bucky’s money.

“I’ll call her,” you said. “Listen, I’m going to put 50 bucks on your book. Buy yourself a bar of soap, I can smell you from here.” Scott interrupted you with a monotone ‘har har’. You chuckled. “I’ll buy Cassie a Christmas gift on your behalf, all right? I think she wanted a bike.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted over the phone, his voice muffled as if he was holding the receiver too close to his mouth. “Are you sure you can afford it? I know it isn’t easy for you. Between living in New York and paying for mom’s nursing home, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting off the conversation. “I’m not alone, Okoye helps.”

“And Wanda?”

“She sends postcards from time to time.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “I want to get out of here so bad,” Scott groaned. “Everything’s gone to shit since I went to jail.”

“Everything’s gone to shit since Pietro died, Scott.” You both remained silent, remembering your late brother. Just thinking about him made your eyes start to prickle with tears, so you cleared your throat and ended the call. “I’ll talk to Maggie. You’ll be out soon, just... stay out of trouble. Love you.”

You left your phone on the table and kicked off your shoes before you lay down on the sofa for a well-deserved nap. In your dreams your brothers weren’t either dead or in prison, your mother hadn’t been diagnosed with Alzheimer, and you weren’t a burden to your friend.

If you were lucky enough, you wouldn’t even dream at all.

The next day, Bucky arrived at the hotel at six thirty and you playfully glared at him from across the lounge. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why you were glaring at him. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Just so you know, you bought yourself about 30 breakfasts,” you told him, referring to the far-too-generous tip he had left the other day.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a boyish cockiness that made him look stupidly attractive. You were too flustered to find a good comeback.

You brought him his cup of coffee and let him enjoy his breakfast while you attended to your other clients. It was an unusually busy day, the room was packed with families who were getting ready to explore Manhattan. You didn’t have time to chat with Bucky and he didn’t stay long. You saw him flinch a couple of times; the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his eyes darting left and right.

He left another ridiculously generous tip, along with a handwritten note. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day x.

Bucky came back the following week, and even though it was a quiet morning, you made sure to find him a table in a secluded spot. He didn’t notice when you slipped the 300 dollars into the pocket of his coat. You could be pretty sneaky, too.

“Mmmh,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I looked at your Instagram.”

“Oh,” you glanced at your shoes, embarrassed. “Wait, you’re on Instagram? I have a hard time imagining you scrolling through your feed.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll admit I’m not as tech savvy as you youngsters, but I’m not a fossil. I use it to look at the pictures my sister post of my niblings.”

“Cute,” you grinned.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I love your work. It’s very unique; a cross between Impressionism and Post-impressionism. It’s realistic, and yet there’s something different...” his face scrunched up as he tried to look for the right word. “There’s something in your paintings, something that isn’t here in real life but perhaps should be. It’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling, a color, a pattern; it’s indiscernible but it’s there.” He looked up at you, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

You blinked, suddenly stunned that someone had such strong opinions about your work. There was nothing but sincerity in his ocean-blue eyes, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“I, um-” you cleared your throat, “Thank you, I didn’t know that. I look up to Monet, obviously. His work is phenomenal, and I also have a soft spot for Van Gogh.” You ran a hand across your face. “Sorry, I’m a little emotional. The people who compliment my art are usually my siblings, and Nat.”

“And now me,” he said with a warm smile. “And soon a lot more people.”

Flustered, you bit your bottom lip. “That would be nice.”

Bucky nodded. He gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, trying to buy time. You watched him hesitate before he turned to you. “I noticed that your last post was from almost a year ago.”

“Yeah,” you said with a casual shrug. “I don’t really paint anymore. I’m too tired when I get home and supplies are expensive.”

“Of course,” he pursed his lips in thought. “Are you free this afternoon? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.”

You tried not to show your surprise but his words made the sleeping butterflies in your stomach crack an eye open, their interest piqued.

Was he asking you out? He’d come to your workplace every week since your brief ‘date’. He always gave you more-than-generous tips, and he listened to you with a combination of close attention and warmth that made you weak at the knees.

He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anyone but maybe he had changed his mind. Agh, down girl! He just wanted a friend.

You looked into his beautiful eyes, seeing a myriad of expressions cross his face before he smiled at you.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, angel.”

It was an honest lie, just hearing him call you angel felt like a punch to the stomach. The butterflies were dancing around, reborn, and chanting the word ‘date’.

“If you don’t like coffee, we can have tea, or ice cream,” he said, “anything as long as you can sit down with me.”

You snorted. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “This is my number. Pick a place and I’ll meet you there.”

After breakfast, you closed the restaurant and started cleaning the Lounge. You brought everything back to the kitchen, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then you put away the unopened miniature jams, butter and whatnot, and gathered the remaining patisseries and fresh fruits in a basket that you would later bring to the reception.

You worked mechanically. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting job you’d ever had.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. It was easy to let your mind wander into the cosy and dangerous territory of this being a real date.

You decided to go to the Australian coffee shop near Natasha’s apartment. It was popular but not as crowded as Starbucks, which suited you fine.

After your shift, you removed your uniform and changed into the spare set of clothes you kept in your locker for emergencies. Emergencies being an impromptu date or a night out with Nat. You dug around in your purse for your lipstick; the nice one, the Carter Red as your mother called it.

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips, staining them. You only wore it on special occasions, and you weren’t sure Bucky deserved your full red pout.

You walked to the café with a little pep in your step and a confident smile on your face. The freezing temperature didn’t matter, you were too giddy to care. It was a date, it had to be, why else would he ask you to meet for coffee?  

You smiled when you saw him through the coffee shop window. He was chatting with the waiter as the latter set two mugs on the table.

“Hi again!” You shrugged out of your jacket and took a seat.

“I hope you like hot chocolate. Carl, here, says it’s their best seller,” Bucky said, smiling kindly at the waiter.

“Enjoy, and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call me.”

You carefully wrapped your cold hands around your mug while you watched Carl walk away. A moment of silence rose between you. Bucky watched you with an unreadable expression, making you fidget in your seat.

“I’m glad you came,” he finally said.

“Me too. I’m a little surprised you asked.”

He looked down at his mug and smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have something to ask you.” He paused. “The night we met, you said you agreed to see me because being in a... financial relationship felt like the only solution to your problems.”

 Your smile faltered but he didn’t seem to notice. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fell so suddenly that it felt like carrying a ball of lead. They went back into hibernation.  

“If I had been a decent person and, I don’t know, bought you a drink, talked to you,” he paused, meeting your eyes. “Would you have been interested in this type of relationship? With me, I mean.”

You swallowed hard. “You want to be my sugar daddy.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You were slowly realizing that you had been wrong about his intentions. This wasn’t a date, it was a business afternoon tea.

He winced. “Do we really have to call it that? I was thinking mentorship. I can provide financial help, and in exchange you could be my friend.”

“I can be your friend for free,” you said, your throat tightening.

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “This way we’ll both get something out of it.”

You looked down at your hands, still wrapped around the mug, and pursed your lips in thought. You felt a sharp tingling sensation in your nose, a sign that you were about to cry. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, fighting against the flood that was coming.

You pushed all the emotion down and forced a smile to your face. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? I just took the subway, I’d like to wash my hands.”

Bucky watched you, momentarily stunned by your request. “Of course, take your time,” he quickly recovered.

“Thanks,” you croaked, pushing your chair back.

You picked up your bag and walked to the restroom, your legs feeling like cotton wool. You didn’t need to use the restroom, you had walked to the café, but you needed a moment alone to collect yourself.

A woman came out of the restroom, holding the door open for you. You picked up the pace and thanked her before closing the door behind you. You looked pretty sickly under the artificial light of the restroom. Your eyes were glassy with tears and your red lips were taunting you.

“Got your hopes up, uh?” You watched your lips move. A little humourless chuckle escaped you and you shook your head at your own idiocy.

You aggressively wiped the lipstick off your mouth with the back of your hand and sighed deeply as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Now you felt like an idiot.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He had been nothing but nice and kind, and perhaps you had mistaken his kindness for flirting. A naïve mistake. You had always been a little clueless when it came to men.

You ran your index fingers under your eyes to get rid of the makeup that had gathered there. It wasn’t the end of the world, you barely knew him anyway. It didn’t hurt any less, though.

Maybe it was time for you to do something out of character, to experience life no matter how crazy it seemed. You were dreading this conversation with Bucky, but you couldn’t hide in the restroom forever. With another sigh, you pushed yourself away from the sink and walked out of the restroom.

Part 4