#ive been trying to learn but the intelligence thing is getting in the way cause. ur telling me i have to listen to some stranger on my + | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xjulixred45x · 8 months ago

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heyyyyyyy!! so i saw that your reqs were open and thought id throw one in since YK- LOVE UR WORK!

and ik ive been requesting this kind of thing only (if u dont wanna do it for this reason, i understand!!) but- Could I please have a Yanplatonic Mephisto/Lucifer/Amaimon x Reader?

This time could you maybe do it with Reader being human, An exwire and completely unrelated to them at all. They hate demons with a passion, But somehow these mfs suddenly decide "yep, new sibling" and surprise adopt kidnap her?

Thanks for considering!! Love your work, Make sure to take breaks if tired!

-TML

YES!!!working on this kind of this is what make Requests so fun!Amaimon will be kind of funny to write🤣 thanks for the Request ❤️

PD: for some reason i imagine this Reader has some Shinobu personality? It's hinch.

Platonic Yandere Mephisto Pheles,Lucifer and Amaimon x Ex-wire! Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, PLATONIC YANDERE, OBSESIVE BEHAVIOR, MENTIONS OF BREAKING READER, FORCED FAMILITY, the three of them TOGHETHER on the title is NOT enough warning?? Illuminati, Amaimon is Mean sometimes--

SPOILERS FROM THE MANGA!!!

As said above, (reader) has a very complicated past with demons, to the point of hating them.

It can honestly be anything, whether your family has been affected by the blue night, by District 13 or simply that your parents have been exorcists who have died in the line of duty.

In any case, (reader) ended up developing a great hatred towards these creatures and decided that she would become an exorcist, in order to get out all that pent-up rage.

In general, I imagine this (reader) as a quite aggressive person and has trouble opening up, so she gets her emotions out through outbursts of anger.

but at the same time he is very intelligent, he uses his environment to his advantage and knows how to take advantage of his resources.

He has what we call "street smarts"

I have no idea who would be the one to take care of (reader) during her training before being Ex-wire, although with her personality, she would run away from any caregiver she had.

(I think the only exception would be Angel because 1- he is strong like that and 2- they share a similar hatred towards demons).

(reader) manages to enter the Ex-wire class, and stands out both for better... and for worse.

First of all, her classmates have a difficult time trying to talk to her (even Shiemi) precisely because of her closed attitude, in addition to the fact that she has constant friction with Izumo and even with Bon.

and most importantly she feels something strange with Rin...

(reader) doesn't know what it is, but she already hates it.

The only one safe from his outbursts is practically Konekomaru (and the weird kid with the puppets, whatever his name is).

It is because of this very fuss that it causes that it ends up attracting the wrong attention.

Mephisto is the first to have interest in (reader)

Not from the beginning as such, no no, although Mephisto had noticed her completely wild attitude compared to her companions (which he found hilarious to say the least) I think it would not be the trigger for him to become interested in (female reader).

I think it's only until (the reader) gets to share her experience, her horrible past with demons, the pure, burning HATE she has for them, that Mephisto finds her very interesting.

Oh humans, so diverse and with many facets~

but Mephisto definitely liked how open she (reader) was in her hatred, that she wasn't looking for moral supremacy or anything like that, she just wanted blood and she loves that!

so he tries to approach in a very unsubtle way and see more of that side knowing how much she hates demons.

appearing out of nowhere in the hallways to scare her and make her curse him, appearing in his dog form in her room to parasite (and then being kicked out) and a long etc.

In this way he not only became involved in the life of (the reader) but also learned more about her in the process, giving emphasis to the growing obsession.

Mephisto wants to know more about this "problematic" student who has caught his interest, whether it is having her academic record or all the information he has and whatever he has, he is not satisfied until he has it all.

It's almost as if I had replaced reading manga with the history of (reader)😅🤣

In this way, now every time he ran into (the reader), Mephisto made jokes and pranks that were increasingly more personal, more intimate.

and that is very scary.

apart from the fact that he behaves in a more... sticky way with (reader).

and that is VERY obvious.

He greets you with a HUG or a pat on the head (no, he doesn't care if you bite him or try to hit him).

and he is even the first to ask (reader) to call him "Oni-chan"

(how fucking disgusting--)

Mephisto is like the older brother who constantly bothers you.

and it is very difficult to get out of its grip.

Do you try to go outside the bedrooms? appears in the form of a dog.

Do you try to go for a walk around campus? appears randomly. It is impossible to surprise him.

But he does have something like an agent that helps him keep (the reader) in line.

That's when Amaimon comes in.

Honestly, he wouldn't be interested in (reader) at first, even though his older brother seemed to have an interest in her.

So, when he told him to keep an eye on her, he didn't think much of it other than it was a nuisance.

While Amaimon finds the task of "taking care of (reader)" annoying, he can't really do much against his brother. Although I think that to have fun from time to time he would make some things happen to (reader) just to make her angry. Like trowing insects at her or even leaving Creepy ass things in her locker.

It's boring for him, better than being a hamster, but extremely boring, so he starts picking on her.

She clearly sees him and curses him every time she sees him about to do something "mischievous" to her or when she hears him commenting on how "weak she is" in training. He thinks it's funny to see her all grumbling.

although eventually it becomes more than that.

Amaimon seems quite carefree, but as time goes by, he takes his "task" of "protecting" (reader) more seriously.

After all, being so weak, who else could take care of her?

He is one of the first to kill for the "well-being" of (reader).

I mean, he can do it as long as it's not one of the Okumura brothers, let him have some fun.

at the same time that he begins to want to have more interaction with (reader) beyond making her angry.

fight, for example.

After all, there must be something about her that caught her older brother's attention. Maybe she has something that he doesn't realize?

although without knowing it he is only falling into the same obsessive trap as his brother.

Once Amaimon becomes a student, rest assured that he will be glued to (reader) and insist that they fight, but she either tells him to fuck off every time or tries to escape from his grasp, without success.

It's like the meme of "fight me You nerd ass punk"🤣

Although don't get me wrong, I think he would be the most manageable of the three, even the "best" brother as far as possible.

(Bonus if you are a distant relative of Shiemihaza, maybe it would explain why Mephisto likes to mess with you so much, to screw with the Vatican)

He already understood that he can't make (the reader) fight with him by bothering her, so now he's simply trying to "figure out" what the hell he does to get there.

although at the same time, being as carefree as he is, he doesn't have so much problem giving (the reader) some time alone and can even distract Mephisto for a while so that she is less irritable.

Amaimon discovers that he actually likes it when (reader) talks and doesn't just grunt.

He's like that awkward brother but if you do him a favor he'll have your back, more or less.

Because he wants you to spend time with him.

It makes (the reader) at least watch him fight if she's not going to fight him.

I think Lowkey wants to show her how strong he is because well, Ego. but it is also a way to measure the strength of (reader) by her reactions. And intimation

although I doubt this (reader) will be intimidated.

He is definitely the first to suggest eliminating (reader's) entire family if she has one left :)

He's not really a fan of (reader) calling him a brother like Mephisto, but he demands the respect of an older brother and at some point he won't let (reader) walk all over him.

Mephisto and him argue about whether it's a good idea to let him (reader) fight him or not, precisely because Mephisto doesn't want him to get hurt.

and Amaimon WANTS to understand what made him become so attached to her. Maybe by fighting he will understand.

NOW, THE MAIN COURSE.

LUCIFER

(reader) at first would only know him from certain mentions of Amaimon that came to nothing, but when the Illuminati's declaration of war occurs or in any case something related to section 13, she understands everything...

There's a small chance that Shima told the Illuminati about (reader) seeing how "close" she was to Mephisto, which would make Lucifer interested.

Why are his brothers so interested in a completely human student who isn't even related to them?

(reader: same man, same)

So naturally he makes them investigate (reader) to understand why out of nowhere his brothers seem so attached to a simple human.

Who knows, maybe it will serve the Illuminati in some way.

(ignoring the hypothetical case of being a descendant of ShiemiHaza) when Lucifer does not find anything really relevant in his search, he is more doubtful than before, but he reasons, perhaps the human has some kind of ritual that only Mephisto knows about.

There HAS to be something that makes his brother like this.

For the same reason, if Lucifer tries to ask Mephisto directly, he becomes very defensive, telling him to stay away from the students and especially from (the reader).

which only gives him more motivation to want to know more about her.

so 1- seeing that she really doesn't want to be with Mephisto and Amaimon orders Shima to recruit her or 2- (more likely) he directly kidnaps her during the declaration of war on the true cross :)

Be that as it may, (reader) ends up on the Illuminati ship more deranged than ever, and well, it makes sense, now they not only harass her, chase her and pull her from one place to another, but they kidnap her!

Even if Lucifer maintains manners and courtesy, as soon as (the reader) realizes that he is a demon, he becomes wild and tries to get out by all possible means, including jumping off the ship!

Fortunately, Homare constantly watches her and, to his relief, she is not very talkative.

But Lucifer is still quite confused. If this human has absolutely nothing special then why is he important?

although he understands a little better when Mephisto demands that he return his "sister"

Ah, so that was it. family ties.

He is the quickest to accept that (reader) is something like a new brother, so as soon as he finds out this new information, he goes to (reader) and demands to know EVERYTHING about her.

likes, dislikes, what her life was like, her abilities, her weaknesses, whatever, his most obsessive side comes to light.

and (reader) is so confused that she barely answers 1/4 of the questions.

Now, Lucifer is like combining Mephisto and Amaimon.

He is very protective, but he is not on top of (reader) all day (at least not the same one, Homare is usually the one who watches the reader)

He wants (reader) to treat him like an older brother and be referred to as such, but he doesn't force her.

uses a similar approach as with Yukio. He slowly attracts her so that she gets used to HIM.

but it doesn't mean it's not bad.

If (reader) still has a family, he will use them as a constant threat against (reader) to improve her attitude and behavior, he is not above killing them if he feels particularly jealous.

Although I think he would kill (reader)'s sibilings if she had them. After all, she already has him and his brothers, humans could never be equal.

He doesn't spend as much time with (reader) as the other two, but he makes up for it with PRETTY expensive gifts and things he knows she likes (from stalking her).

I think he would only return (reader) if a kind of agreement is reached with Mephisto, in which they both share (reader) and Amaimon goes with her when she is with both of them, that way Mephisto can ensure that Lucifer returns (reader) (reader) and vice versa.

I know this was about their relationship as brothers with (reader) but it reminds me a lot of divorced parents who share custody of their children... although of course, these parents are crazy.

going straight all together, it's not as bad as one would think.

Mephisto is the biggest pain in the ass, that's for sure. He is VERY POSSESSIVE of (reader) to an almost ridiculous point.

He likes to put clothes similar to him, it's a way of "showing dominance" and he likes to think that this way they seem more like a family.

Being with him prepare yourself for a lot of unwanted physical contact and to spend HOURS watching your former classmates suffer from his tricks and be left on the sidelines because you can no longer even carry a weapon...

INFANTILIZATION AT MAXIMUM POWER, he loves to pamper (the reader) and act as if she were a little girl, either because it amuses him to see her angry or because for someone who is thousands of years old like him, she IS indeed a baby.

he reacts VERY badly to rules being broken, if (reader) wants to save herself from punishment (most likely having broken bones, even if he speeds up time so it's not THAT bad, it's horrible) she should go to Amaimon.

He's the best, I already said it.

more than anything because he "understands" better the situation of stress under the thumb of his older brother and now he can understand affection a little better, even if it is still toxic.

but don't be fooled.

If he sees the slightest possibility that (reader) is going to leave him, then he will tell Mephisto or Lucifer to ruin any plan, that's how he is.

apart from the fact that he follows (reader) s everywhere to "inform" Mephisto and Lucifer of his well-being. and it is impossible to lose him, he has a connection with the entire earth and a great ability to find what he wants. Do not even try.

although as long as you give him some affection and treats, he's actually quite manageable, not clingy or overly jealous, just very aggressive and protective.

(another who would want to kill the reader's brothers when seeing them as a threat to their relationship).

and Lucifer...he's a mix.

he's not AS possessive as Mephisto, but he definitely wants everyone to know that (reader) is HIS sister.

He has great respect for the rules and he wants them to be followed, but when it is (the reader) who breaks them, he is much more lenient.

Be careful, I don't want to say that he is exempt from horrible punishments, if (reader) exceeds a limit of errors, then he will not be saved from one.

but Lucifer goes more for the Psychological side of things.

It makes (reader) believe that she is in control of the situation, a situation where she has no real advantage.

In this way he gains her favor but causes him to fall into his trap.

because HE is the one who is in control of everything. If (reader) goes far, it is because he allows it.

very protective, more than Mephisto, if it were up to him she wouldn't leave the Illuminati base, but at the same time he gives (reader) much more autonomy than Pheles.

It's very difficult to come to terms with him, but at least you can use his own sense of the rules against him :D

I think that the one most likely to break (reader) would be Mephisto, followed by Lucifer, these two would undoubtedly do it on purpose so that (reader) would stop trying to escape. Amaimon would only do it by accident due to his lack of knowledge of the human mind.

If (reader) develops Stockholm syndrome, Mephisto is throwing a fucking party! even LUCIFER would be happy (reader) has returned to her senses! and Amaimon would be happy but he would definitely miss the anger.

In short, it's chaos, but it balances out in certain curious ways so you get a little bit of each world.

Overall, it's a VERY fucked up yandere trio to be with, but look on the bright side! you will never be alone...

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

thanks for the request ❤️

ahhhh I loved writing this but I feel like some parts are messy?😭 or maybe because it's my longest fic so far?? I hope you like it and I'm sorry if it's too loaded!

#headcanons #fem reader #blue exorcist #blue exorcist spoilers #blue exorcist mephisto #blue exorcist lucifer #blue exorcist amaimon #yandere blue exorcist lucifer #yandere mephisto pheles #yandere amaimon #yandere platonic #platonic reader #platonic yandere #ao no exorcist #ao no exorcist lucifer #ao no exorcist x reader #ao no exorcist mephisto #ao no exorcist amaimon #blue exorcist x reader

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jannadecierto0824 · 3 months ago

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Update #9

I'm getting better! 🥹

I'm currently three weeks into college, the commute is calming.. but also stressful at time, but its really therapeutic in a way? Especially the ride home. I've made good friends, celebrated my birthday this month. I've progressed with music, mental health, and my mindset. There was a lot of growth this August. A lot to be grateful for. I love my university, the experience, the people, the professors, the campus itself. Even the colors, I love blue, and the uniform is blue, even the campus itself and the logo! Like its so me, you know?

Anyway, one of the classes has been.. well stressful. It made me doubt my intelligence and I got my result for the first quiz which ead a 68/90 for the chapter 1.. I mean, I passed right? The first part was a 35/40 though the second part was a 33/50.. I dont know.. i know I studied and put in the work but yeah, it wasnt enough.. its been weighing on me so much recently.

I keep trying to remind myself to go with the flow and to trust in the timing and to have faith.. earlier I broke down crying cause I was pressuring myself too much and I got burnt out. I was trying to control and force things to be.. when Ive been doing so well in trusting the timing, but, now I'm back to me taking a break (finally, my mom and friends had to convince me to) but, yeah..

Old habits, die hard. Ive been doing so well mentally, and taking care of myself and being nicer.. I just hit a bump in the road and went back to my old habit of.. well overthinking + self pressure + anxiety.

I know better now, and Im going back to bed. I'm imperfectly perfect. I know im hard-working but I need rest. I know I'm smart but I have a lot left to learn. I know I'm talented but again, I have room to grow.

Even in my music, I've had good progress on TikTok but again.. there's a voice in my head "you can do better than this." and its pressure.. its exhausting.. to force myself to BE MORE. When.. I know I've done enough.

That's all, I'm rambling on.. oh, right, I'm officially 19! 🥳

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waitingforwinterwinds · 2 years ago

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A Clash of Kings - 52 SANSA IV (pages 678-688)

Sansa gets her first period.

Sansa dug her nails into her hand. she could feel the fear in her tummy, twisting and pinching, worse every day. Nightmares of the day Princess Myrcella had sailed still troubled her sleep;

*recalls Sansa vs. nightmares of the bred riots (tv edition)*

Oh dear. I don't think that's fear in your tummy, sweetheart.

They had hemmed her in and thrown filth at her and tried to pull her off her horse, and would have done worse if the Hound had not cut his way to her side. (...) Try not to be afraid! he said.

Stop making me like you asshat! Ooooh, that's cheating! Sorry, I just, really like that he said try not to be afraid rather than don't be afraid. It just feels more comforting and less demanding on an already stressed young girl.

"Give your Florian a little kiss now. A kiss for luck." He swayed toward her. Sansa dodged the wet groping lips, kissed him lightly on an unshaven sheek, and bid him goodnight.

I'll give you a "kiss" *hefts steel chair* come here >:3

Turning back to the stair, Sansa climbed. The smoke blotted out the stars and the thin crescent of moon, so the roof was dark and thick with shadows.

I know I've been having fun with 'interpreting' the visions and dreams and stuff the past few chapters, but we do all (myself included) need to remember how hind-sighted visions are. In a narrative it's easy because the author often wants the events to tie together in a certain way, but even then there is always room for different interpretations.

Take for instance this chapter. We are being reminded multiple times that King's Landing is being bathed in smoke. King's Landing which is on a salt water coastline. Born of smoke and salt could now fit basically anyone in or around King's Landing at this point in time.

Case in point: Sansa has been weeping a lot (extra salt for the salt checkbox) because she's getting her first period (if I have my chapters and events correct) which is a "gateway" to womanhood in many cultures, and reflects more viscerally the idea "kill the boy and let the man be born" train of thought. If we wanted to do some crack takes, we could use this to say Sansa is Azor Ahai Confirmed.

She's not, probably, but we could say it.

Hell, Cersei could be Azor Ah-hoooo my gosh someone find a fic author and make that happen! X'D Azor Ahai!Cersei XD

... and just like that Sandor's made me dislike him again. He's so grumpy. And not in a fun way.

...Damn that's a violent period dream. For a second there I was kind of reminded of Dany's first vision through the doors, it was the "Women swarmed over her like weasels" I think, but the phrase from the vision described the men as "rattish"

Gods, Sansa is so terrified. First periods are always scary, even when you know what's going on because it's this change that you can't really wrap your head around until after, and for Sansa it's more than just that, it's another layer of illusionary safety being violently torn away from her.

Also, just as a point of interest, Blood is a Protein Stain. Cold water and a cake of your normal hand soap will remove most fresh stains from clothing and sheets, don't use hot water, warm to hot water actually makes fresh blood stains set. For older stains, glycerine can help to break them up, just dab a bit on the stain and give it a light scrub before washing with cold water and soap.

And when I say glycerine, I mean the stuff from your first aid kit for wound care, also called glycerin or glycerol. not the nitro for exploding stuff.

Queen Cersei laughed. "Wait until you birth a child, Sansa. A woman's life is nine parts mess to one part magic, you'll learn that soon enough... and the parts that look like magic are the messiest of all."

Not super looking forward to Cersei's POV's, cause I've heard things, and I would like to pretend she actually has some intelligence a little longer. Look at this scene. My gosh. For a moment there I almost thought Cersei gave a shit and was commiserating.

This woman has some opinions, and not all of them are complete trash, but damn she needs some therapy... but damn everyone in this series needs some therapy.

"Joffrey will show you no such devotion, I fear. You could thank your sister for that, if she weren't dead. He's never been able to forget that day on the Trident when you saw her shame him, so he shames you in turn. You're stronger than you seem, though. I expect you'll survive a bit of humiliation. I did. -"

So first of all, I understand that had Arya not been in the wrong place, doing the wrong thing, the situation would never have been possible BUT, consider for a moment, that it ALSO could have been avoided if Joffrey hadn't been such a piece of shit! So really he brought that shit on himself then made it everyone else's problem by being an insufferably self-absorb, overly entitled, rich little white bo-

... Joffrey isn't just a dude bro. He's Elon Musk with a violent streak.

I need a moment...

...

Where was I?

Second of all! Oh look, Cersei is Pro Cycles of Abuse. "I suffered so every one else should suffer too. It's equality UwU"

*Kicks Cersei off a tower* This. Is. SPARTA!!!!

#a clash of kings #a song of ice and fire #sansa stark #a chapter a day reading #acok #asoiaf

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blookmallow · 4 months ago

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ok here is the Post Of Morbid Questions im trying to find answers for due to fallout ocs.... if anyone has any ideas or knows how to find answers on these let me know bc i have Not been successful

what might the Courier's bullet scar look like, and what longterm side effects might they be coping with after taking a bullet to the head

the game's answer to this seems to just be handwavy "stimpacks fixed it" since you don't visibly have a scar when the player character's face is visible, but i want my own designs to reflect that injury and i cannot find a clear answer on what it might look like. mostly it seems like they should've been missing a lot more skull than they were. best answer i could come up with for the side effects is that brain trauma can lead to memory loss, seizures, problems with impulse control/emotional regulation, vision problems, and a whole lot of other things. so ive tried to consider that for my new vegas characters. i havent really done much with anyone other than bonnie though. anyway my attempts at researching this mostly have come up with "you'd just be dead" but what if you DIDN'T dead, though. what happens then

also, as a sidenote question, would it be possible that doc mitchell (i keep calling him doc marten. why am i doing this. stop it) could have extracted the bullet intact enough for the courier to keep it. i want bonnie to have it on a necklace but i cant get a clear answer on that either

2. how exactly would chems work / how would it affect them

i dont really know anything about real world drugs so im not really sure how to approach this subject. i know a little about how addiction and withdrawal works, but not much other than vague awareness of how people act when high on weed, and lsd makes you hallucinate. i dont really know what it feels like, why someone might use them, what longterm effects it might have

i learned med-x is pretty much just morphine, which is intended as a pain killer, also apparently can cause "feelings of euphoria," so that sounds like it would be a very likely addiction in the wasteland. makes it all hurt less. makes you feel good. i think initially taking it for pain (justifiable, it is medicine, after all) and then developing an addiction would be an easy trap for wastelanders to fall into. i think both my fallout 4 protags would be susceptible to this especially if they hang around hancock and get talked into it

psycho seems to cause some kind of... berserker mode mind break, so it makes sense that would be popular with raiders, but im not sure why you'd want to use it otherwise. just sounds like a great way to get yourself killed to me. i never use it in-game so im not really sure what its for

as far as i can tell buffout is just steroids, so. desire to be strong/push yourself to the limit/unbeatable is obvious living in wasteland conditions

mentats seem to be like. adderoll, or something? increased focus and cognition. im not sure why hancock uses them, though. he's told me it's his favorite ("makes me feel intellectual") but im not really sure what recreational purpose that serves if he's not using them to focus on tasks or something. i think im not fully understanding what these do. i think it makes sense for my courier, struggling with cognitive damage after the head injury, to use them pretty regularly though (and new vegas gives you a lot of situations where you can use them to help pass intelligence/perception checks so i Do use them)

jet is the one i really dont understand. i see this one a Lot with in-game chem addicts/find them all over the place in raider drug dens so it's clearly popular but i do not understand what it does. game mechanics-wise it functions to make time appear to slow down, but i don't know why you would want that outside of a combat situation where you need to be able to react fast. the wiki says it also provides a rush/high, i suppose. could just be that it's the easiest to get your hands on

it's also made from fertilizer. so there's that. no one talks about that and i dont know why

3. what changes or long-term effects would the vault 111 survivor have after being frozen for so long

i cant find anything on this and i guess it's probably due to "we don't know" since that kind of cryogenic technology doesn't really exist in the real world. we've never frozen someone for 200 years and then let them out again. the game doesn't acknowledge this having any effect on them at all, and i just can't believe there wouldn't be something. what's preventing them from going into shock and just dying of hypothermia / extreme frostbite. i dont really understand the science of how cryostasis would work. even if we just accept "it just works" i still feel like there should be some kind of longterm side effects. nerve damage, maybe? i think ruby (my first fallout 4 protag) at least has some trauma around feeling too cold or feeling like she can't move. cryo mines/grenades probably fuck her up.

4. follow up question, the absolute most SPECIFIC one i cannot figure out to save my life: if someone were to have an open wound, and then suddenly enter cryostasis for, say, several hundred years, what would happen

i ask this because i think lucas (my second fallout 4 oc) would have reacted violently to his wife's murder. he would have been fighting to get out of that pod until he was bleeding and it wouldn't even have slowed him down. i think he severely fucked up his hands, and then immediately got frozen again. so my question is, what would that do

if we can assume cryostasis does not cause frostbite damage to normal tissue, would it also not damage open/exposed tissue? or would the ice soak in and destroy the cells in that part of your skin. would you just unfreeze and it would resume bleeding again like it just happened seconds ago? would it heal while it was frozen?

my best guess is that it would sort of... heal wrong, like a poorly set broken bone (and if he broke his fingers, it certainly would have) or get infected, at least. i want to say whatever happened caused him to lose a few fingers but i cannot figure out if that's viable or not. i like the image of him stumbling out of the vault confused and angry and broken with several dead fingers he now has to find a way to cut off. i want lucas doing horrendously ill-advised surgery on himself to be a recurring theme

#fallout

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xlovely-daydreamsx · 3 years ago

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Black Lab (Yandere!Hawks x Reader x Yandere!Dabi)

Summary: You're an Omega- your fate was sealed the moment you were born.

Warnings: yandere themes, later nsfw, slight non-con, stalking, manipulation, age gap (kinda)

Note: quick thank you to @yurithereader for the character suggestion, and to everyone else who gave me their feedback. this first chapter is a lot of exposition, just because ive had this in my brain for a long time, so its veeery developed, n im just puttin it on paper at this point. so, without further ado, here's the first chapter of Black Lab :)

Your fate had been sealed from the moment you were born. Your mother was a gorgeous Omega, flowering in high school and aging like fine wine, until your father came along- a Beta with a hint of narcissism, who always reeked of artificial Alpha thanks to his God awful cologne. Your mother had spent, and would continue to spend her whole life desperately trying and failing to avoid those men, getting hurt along the way and dragging you with her.

Despite your struggles, your mother was your world. Baby, she had said to you one night, empty bottles scattered across your coffee table, you’re lucky to have me, you know. You can learn what not to do in life. Well, that didn’t make any sense at all, did it? At least, not to you. Your mother was the most beautiful, intelligent, hardworking woman you’d ever known- why would you want to be anything else? Don’t ever drink, she said, don’t date assholes, and for God’s sake, don’t be an Omega.

Others always told you that you looked just like your mother, same bright, hooded eyes, flowing hair, and even the same smell. Told you you’d make a great Omega just like her, too. The men at the bar especially loved that line. When she’d bring you along to work when you were sick and home from school, she’d sit you at the bar with a book and some Tylenol, and you’d be content for the whole evening. That is, until the regulars would bother you.

“You’re Daisy’s daughter, ain'tcha?” One man asked you one night. You recognized him… Bill? You think that was his name, at least. You just nodded, giving him a glance up from your book. “You’re just as pretty as your momma, you know.” He coughed, “Spittin’ image of ‘er.” The only thing you could think to do was offer a small ‘thank you’ and bury yourself back into your book, but he continues to talk. “Is she as nice at home as she is at work?” You shrug- nice wasn’t exactly how you would describe her. “I bet she looks real pretty out of that uniform.” That’s when he started to reek; you’d always been extra sensitive to smells, but he really stunk with something you’d would’ve never recognized at that age, something you shouldn’t have been able to recognize until well into your years- arousal. His perversion mingling with sweat and the booze makes you crinkle your nose and suppress a gag.

“Well I’m sure you’re causing it for her, so leave her alone,” she says it like a joke, a hint of a smile twinging on her lips, but her arm stands as a barrier between you and the drunkard, keeping you safe as always. “She’s over here tryin’ to get smarter- maybe you should try reading sometime.” Another guy around the bar lets out a hearty laugh at that one, and you let out a bit of a giggle as well.

“She’s not causing you any trouble, is she, Bill?” Thank God, your mother, your savior had come to your aid.

“Oh, no- an angel just like her mother.” He smiles at her, crooked teeth on display.

He doesn’t argue with her, just slinks off to the other side of the bar to sit next to another regular, but you can still smell him in the air.

“Such an attitude for an Omega,” his grin is gone now.

“Ain’t got nothin’ to do with it,” your mother grabs a towel out of her apron pocket and smacks it against the wooden bar with a thunk, “now scram, I’ve got work to do.”

Your mother presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’ll grab you another Shirley Temple, baby.”

“I don’t wanna stay at Dad’s,” you cried, holding onto your mother’s work pants with an iron grip, “why can’t I come with you?”

“I told you, (y/n), you can’t come anymore, I’m sorry.” She pats the top of your hair. “Someone complained to the manager.”

You wouldn’t present until years later. By that time, it was practically all anyone could talk about. The school at shown a million videos explaining it, mandated more than a few sex-ed classes, and almost everyone had gotten that kind of talk from their parents (a talk that was encouraged by an email from the school). Nobody was a stranger to the concept, and with every passing day, and every word you heard uttered about it, you grew more restless, more anxious. That’s because you were an Omega.

You’d known the fact for many years- practically since the day you were born. The chances of you being an Omega were surprisingly thin when you put it on paper, dozens of Punnett squares in your notebooks, telling you that you were more likely to be a beta than anything, but that didn’t matter at all. From the day you left that hospital with your mother, your fate was sealed- you were marked Apex.

The idea of what it truly means to be “Apex” had been a hot topic in recent years, but the consensus from most religious groups, or anyone that didn’t want to think critically, considered it ‘a gift from God.’ Scientifically speaking, it was a hormone imbalance. Those who are born Apex have heightened senses from birth, and often hold the smell of their secondary gender even before presenting; it’s also not uncommon for them to present early.

You hated being Apex- hated all the things people said about it, how you were treated because of it, what it would do to your life. You hated how little control it gave you. Because when you’re Apex, you have a soulmate.

That’s what people call it, at least- a soulmate. Once you catch a whiff of their scent, it fills a hole in your heart, completes you. A bunch of bullshit, if anyone ever asked you.

“(y/n), (y/n),” Your friend, Ochako, comes up behind you in the hallway, clamping a soft hand on your shoulder; you hadn’t realized how spaced out you were until she shook you back into reality, “if you present Beta, do you wanna hang out over break? My mom wants you to try her alfredo recipe.” Ah, Ochako… so kind, yet so oblivious. Of course you weren’t going to present beta- she knew that well enough, having smelled your room before, your whole house, for that matter, but she still held out hope for you. Maybe she pitied you, you thought- the poor, scared little Omega, afraid of her true nature.

No, Ochako wasn’t like that. “Yeah, sure. You know how much I always love her cooking.” You give her a soft smile. Her oblivion is an act of kindness- nothing more, nothing less.

Presenting season always falls in the later months of the year, giving middle school students a much needed, especially long winter break.

Your break starts early, on account of how sick you feel beforehand. You’d been mulling over all your options- technically you didn’t have to take the hormone enhancers- there were plenty of groups that advocated for natural presentation, so you could just pretend you were against them, right? But you didn’t want to take the chance of presenting somewhere other than at home… There were numerous cases of kids presenting and someone “losing control” around them. The only thing worse than being an Omega was being a claimed one.

At around 13-14 years old, all students are expected to present. However, when the popularity of public school grew, and presentation, heats, and ruts caused lots of absences, new hormone enhancers were developed, letting everyone, if they hadn’t already, present at the same time.

Winter break was approaching rapidly, and with every day you grew closer to presentation, the more sick you felt. No, you couldn’t handle this. How are you supposed to live as an Omega? Nobody will ever respect you again, never listen to you, never take you seriously.

You rubbed the side of your neck anxiously at the thought of such a thing… no, that definitely wasn’t an option. There’s only one answer, right?

You presented as an Omega, of course, during the worst week of your life. Heat was unbearable; a pulsing, clawing pain in your stomach, waves of it flowing through the rest of you, leaving a dull ache in its stead for days after.

You hate it at first. People look at you differently, treat you differently. People who you thought were your friends now obsessively pursue you, chasing the ideal of Alpha-Omega relationships. It’s exhausting, but you learn to live with it.

One thing you refuse to put up with, however, is Apex conferences. Despite how “progressive” people may think they are nowadays, Apex studies were severely outdated. If schools had any confirmed Apex students, they often required them to attend Apex conferences, because it earned them more government funding.

When it was your turn to attend, you outright refused. You had already lost control of your life after presenting, and this was the last thing you felt like you had control over. Apex conferences helped people find their “soulmates,” and you weren’t going to stand for it. You’d rather die than have some stupid soulmate, you decided.

You joined the school newspaper when you entered highschool, constantly writing articles about Omega oppression, gender roles, and outdated laws and studies in both regards. Your feud with your school was never ending, constantly trying to have you removed, and the letters to the editors rarely ever had a nice word in them. But this was your little piece, you told yourself- if you did nothing else, at least you could do this.

By your senior year, you had gotten used to your life as an Omega, and earned yourself quite a reputation amongst your peers. Your school counselor swore that you were suffering from ‘Faux Alpha Syndrome,’ and you kindly referred him to one of your articles. You had applied to journalism school, created your portfolio, and had saved up enough from your various jobs that you finally felt in control- you were finally happy with your life.

That fall, on a surprisingly warm day, is when everything went downhill.

“Can we go to the store before you get settled?” You ask your mother when she gets home from work, watching as she takes a seat at the kitchen table and lights a cigarette.

“I suppose… what for?”

“M’ outta shampoo, and we need milk, too,” you replied, taking your own seat across from you. One of your cats meows at you from the floor.

“And we need some snacks,” your mother smiles at you. It wasn’t often that she agreed to go, often too tired from work to go anywhere. You need more than a few things, but you don’t mention it- you’re short on money at the moment, so only the essentials will do.

A cigarette and a few minutes later, you’re getting ready to leave. You’d been to this store a million times over the years, walked down every aisle, knew where to find anything you needed. It was a familiar place, a normal day.

You left your collar at home- you usually wore it when you went out, just in case of any creeps, but you left it this time. If something was going to happen there, it would’ve happened already, right?

There’s an overwhelming sensation of calm when the teeth sink through your flesh, almost painlessly, pressing into such a small but crucial part of your being and marking you forever, claiming you. That’s why they call them claiming bonds, I suppose; they’re mostly self explanatory.

You’ve taken the state mandated health classes, read all the blog posts that come across your feed and just generally had a good idea of what goes on with you body, but the feeling of being claimed is really something that can’t be described. Once the smell hits you, and the hormones in your body take over, all you feel is that want, need to have your mate. You figured you’d at least have the dignity and self control to fight it a little, to be able to stop yourself for even a second and think that you don’t really want this, but you learned quickly that it was never an option. There was no terror until the initial rush was gone, replaced with the senses you had lost in the moment and it all crashes down in a wave of realization and regret.

You had spent almost your entire life avoiding this moment, fighting against every law mandated apex program, moving schools to avoid the classes that point you out, make it known that you already have no choice, that you’re already claimed. When people know, they don’t give you a chance. You can’t choose people to be with because it’s already been chosen for you by some fucked up god who can’t seem to stop ruining your life.

Once you regain control of your body, the only thing you can bring yourself to do is scream. It rips through your throat, breaking at the edges and echoing through the aisles- your worst nightmare has been realized, and you can’t do anything to stop it. Your destiny is in motion.

You’re vaguely aware of the commotion around you. Your mother tries and fails to pull you up to your feet, her voice ringing in your ears. Someone has pulled the man, your mate, off of you, and you almost think you see the stranger throw a punch. You feel like laughing at that, but instead of a chuckle, another cry bubbles up in your throat and now you can feel again. Tears streaming down your cheeks, the wetness of blood and spit against your neck, and the low, warm thrumming underneath it all.

Someone is on the phone with the police; you can hear them assessing the situation. ‘Some omega has been forcibly claimed,’ you hear them say. It’s a nice thought, really, but if they knew you were Apex, they wouldn’t come.

“(y/n), you need to get off your ass right now.” Your mother yells, and you're suddenly pulled out of the liminal space you were stuck in. You can finally, really see your mate.

He’s not bad looking, at the very least. He’s taller than you by quite a bit, with messy, ashy blonde hair and blown out pupils. He’s dressed nicely, and you can see a dot of your blood on his button up.

You let your mom pull you up by the arm and hurry you out of the store, back to the car and home. She offers to take you to the hospital, but what good would that do you know? They can’t fix what’s been done, and they certainly wouldn’t want to once they knew what you were.

“I guess we’re not getting shampoo, then?”

Omegas get the shit end of the stick; always have and always will. You know this, deep down, that you’ll never be truly equal, not with how society builds these layers of oppression. Beta handlers from omega mating companies systematically oppress you, alphas in the law enforcement to send you a snarl or bark a command when you step out of line. Every turn an omega makes, they’re reminded that they’re an omega, that there’s no escape from the reality that we’re beneath everyone else.

It always comes down to the hormones; if you act like a perfect little omega, always listening and perfectly content to pop out pups by the age of sixteen, society sends you on your way with a pat on the back and a smiley sticker for good measures, but if you growl and snarl just like the big dogs, bare your teeth and fight back, your brain is fucked up and you need pills to calm you down, to turn you back into the best omega you can be.

It’s all you can think about, laying in your room for days and covering every mirror in the house, lest you catch a glimpse of that god awful thing on your neck.

It aches constantly, pulsing with heat and leaving you dizzy. Apex Omegas need a lot of attention from their mates because of this- they rely on those hormones once they’re exposed to them. You remind yourself every day that it's all just hormones- your hormones are compatible, so that’s why you reacted that way. That’s why you can’t stop thinking about him, right?

It's another few days before a knock comes at the door, a rainy Monday that you spend laying in bed, trying to distract yourself with video games you’ve already played. Your mother is working, so you’re home alone. She stayed with you for the first few days, petting your hair as you cried, making you food that you didn’t have the stomach to eat, but she had to go back to work- you were already short on money before her time off.

You hurry downstairs to open the door as your dog barks; normally you wouldn’t answer, but you were instructed to watch for the gas company to make sure they don’t come and shut you off.

“I’m coming!” you tell as you bound down the stairs and to the door, pulling it open swifty. The person on the other side of the door, however, is not the gas company.

It’s your soulmate.

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sacredsorceress · 4 years ago

Text

Milestone || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: a journey through some of the biggest milestones in yours and bucky’s relationship from the day you first met to sharing a home of your own

a/n: in this we’re gonna pretend that bucky didn’t get dusted! also reader has powers similar to those of wanda’s. reblogs and replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 3.4k

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || request || taglist

The First Time You Met

Running down the hallway of the airport, you watched as Peter was swept off of his feet and into the air by none other than Falcon, leaving the man you recognized as the Winter Soldier in your midst. Your shoes squeaking against the floor as you stopped short, you threw your arms into the air, stopping the man from moving.

Snapping his attention towards you, he furrowed his eyebrows and you could feel him fighting against your magic. Squeezing your eyes shut you tried your hardest to keep him contained but with only so much experience, he broke through it in a minute, coming for you straight after.

“Shit.” You cursed to yourself, watching as he strode over to you.

Clasping your hands together before pulling them apart, you created a baton of sorts in just enough time to hold it in front of yourself as Bucky cornered you into a wall. Pushing him back with the beam, you grunted, trying your hardest to keep the magic from dying out.

“You’re not very good at this.” He commented, attempting to pull the magical beam from your hands.

“I’m...” You grunted. “.... new.”

Using all of your force, you shoved him back. Taking the first opportunity you saw, you began shooting blasts of magic at him while he stumbled backwards. Attempting to dodge the blasts, he moved forward, putting his hands in the air.

“Look,” He said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Watching as he stumbled backwards, closer to a ledge, you halted the blasts, tilting your head sideways.

“Lucky me.”

As soon as the words fell from your mouth, you used the rest of your force, swinging your arms backwards and then pushing forward to shove him through the railing and over the edge, his eyes wide as he fell backwards. When he fell, he took the Falcon with him.

Glancing up above, you saw Peter, shooting a web to hold the two men to the ground. Feeling the energy in your palms, you floated down to the floor they were held to, standing above them.

“Look guys, I would love to keep this up but I’ve only got one job here today and I’ve gotta impress Mr. Stark, so I’m really sorry-” You watched as the drone took Peter’s web and pulled him through the window cutting him short, Peter screaming as it did.

Turning back to the men, you pulled the hood of your cloak over your head.

“Don’t worry about the drone thing,” You said. “I know when to see myself out.”

Turning to make your way towards the exit of the airport, you heard Bucky call from behind you.

“Hey!” He shouted. “Who are you?”

Bucky didn’t know why he was asking. He could barely even remember facts about himself, never mind keep track of every super human person he came across, but there was something nagging in his mind, begging him to learn more.

Glancing over your shoulder, looking at the Winter Soldier one last time, you smirked.

“Y/n.”

And with that you left the airport.

First Touch

The hatch to the ship opening, you stumbled down the steps, gripping Nebula’s arm to keep your balance. As Steve took hold of Tony, Pepper rushing to his side, you looked up to find the familiar face of Rhodey making his way towards you.

“I chose the wrong day to go see who Dr. Strange was.” You chuckled somberly, trying to make light of the situation.

Grabbing your arm to steady you as you slowly walked down the steps, Rhodey shook his head.

“The fight wasn't much better back here.” He said. “At least we had oxygen though. You’re not looking so good, kid.”

Too afraid to have looked at your deteriorating reflection the past three weeks, you knew he was being too kind.

It had been nearly three weeks since Thanos snapped away a half of the universe’s population, leaving you, Tony and Nebula stranded in space. You had run out of fuel weeks ago and had nearly lost hope of ever returning home as the oxygen supply began dwindling until Captain Marvel had found your ship and brought you all safely back to the Avengers Compound.

Despite being back, three weeks in space had left you exhausted, starving and dehydrated- just to name a few.

Biting back the dizziness you felt, you sighed.

“I’m- I’m fine, Rhodes.” You said, beginning to feel lightheaded. “It’s nothing-”

Missing your footing on the step, you tripped, losing your balance from Rhodey, about to hit the ground until you felt an arm wrap around your torso and the cool touch of metal grasp your hand. Looking up, you were met with the familiar face of the man you had fought two years ago at the airport in Germany, his hair cut shorter since the last time you had seen him, but recognizable nonetheless.

“Bucky Barnes?” You asked, standing up straighter with his assistance.

“Y/n.” He replied, shooting you a gentle smile.

Although you had what many would consider super-human abilities with your magic, due to being discovered after the civil war between the Avengers that had effectively split up the group- you weren't used to being recognized. Hearing your name fall from his lips felt somewhat gratifying.

“You remember my name?” You asked in disbelief

“Hard to forget the name of the woman who kicked my ass.” Bucky chuckled, helping you walk towards the doors of the Compound. “Doesn't happen often.”

For the first time in weeks you allowed yourself to smile as you gazed up at the man holding you steady, making sure you didn’t fall. When his blue eyes met yours, you adverted your gaze, turning your attention towards Natasha who wheeled a wheelchair through the doors of the Compound and towards the two of you.

Moving his flesh hand to rest on your lower back, his vibranium one still in yours, he helped you slowly ease into the chair. When you sat back in the chair, resting your feet on the footrests, you looked up at the super soldier and smiled.

“Not looking for a rematch are you?” You asked, slipping your hand out of his and resting it on your abdomen. “‘Cause I think I’m gonna need a raincheck.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he laughed shaking his head.

“No, I think I’m done with fighting.” He said.

Feeling Natasha pulling back on the wheelchair, about to spin your chair around and towards the doors, you threw him one last smile.

“That makes two of us.”

Just when Bucky was about to turn around and walk away as Nat wheeled you through the doors, the chair stopped and he watched as you glanced over your shoulder.

“And Sarge?” You called.

“Yeah?”

“I like the new arm.”

For the first time in decades, Bucky felt heat rise to his cheeks as he watched you tiredly speak to Natasha until you left his line of sight.

First Kiss

It had taken you nearly a month to recover from your time in space since returning back to Earth. Although you understood that there wasn’t much to be done since Thanos had wiped out half of the universe, you still felt guilty taking up space in the Compound when all you would do was lay in bed, attached to an IV.

The one thing that made your time on bedrest a little more bearable was none other than Bucky Barnes.

Throughout your stay in bed he had consistently visited you. Though at first he was a bit shy, you had proven to be someone he could trust- assuring him that he could never be a bother to you and that you genuinely enjoyed having his company- maybe a bit too much, but you would never tell him that.

Bucky himself was surprised that he had put himself so out there with you after living such a solitary life for nearly the past 80 years, but there was just something about you that drew him to you time and time again. He couldn’t pinpoint it- whether it was your kindness, humor or intelligence- he found both joy and peace in your presence- something he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be in.

So, despite the voice in the back of his head telling him that you didn’t want to see him, he had visited you while you got better in bed, taking care of you in the littlest of ways until he watched the dark circles under your eyes fade away and your ability to walk without his assistance return.

Finally feeling somewhat better, you had insisted to bucky that you were ready to train again and no matter how many times he tried to convince you that you weren’t, he could never say no once you squeezed his hand and pouted up at him.

He was regretting not saying no to you as he now stood across from you in the training room.

“Y/n, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” He said, watching you sway in your spot despite your feet being planted to the mat.

“C’mon Barnes,” You taunted, raising your hands. “You scared?”

Just as he was about to open his mouth again, you shot a blast of magic towards him, Bucky dodging it just as it whooshed past his head.

“I wasn’t even ready!” Bucky exclaimed.

Shrugging your shoulders you formed another beam made of magic, holding either ends of it with your hands as Bucky came towards you.

Trying to plant your feet to the ground, feeling another hit of dizziness wash over you, you pushed him back with the beam, but before you could do anything more, his leg swept under yours, making you lose your balance.

Before you fell to the ground, however, the magic in your hands diminished as you gripped your hands into Bucky’s shirt bringing him down with you.

Flipping over before you fell, you landed on top of the super soldier, your hands planted firmly on his chest. With his hands above his head that was inches away from yours, you both stared at each other- you finally noticing just how much you liked the scruff that coated his jawline and him admiring the color of your eyes and how he swore he could lose himself in them if only he had the chance.

Opening your mouth, you felt the thumping of Bucky’s heart against your fingertips that were resting on his chest as he gazed up at you.

“Your heart is beating really fast.” You whispered, out of breath despite you barely having trained.

“Yeah, it does that when I see you.”

You could barely believe what you were hearing until you felt Bucky’s hands come up and cup your face, glancing down at your lips before back to your eyes, asking wordlessly for your approval.

Unable to form a coherent sentence, you eagerly nodded back at him.

Before you could even process it, you felt Bucky’s lips meeting yours as he pulled you into a kiss, his hands moving from cupping your face to wrapping around your body, pulling you tight against him. All you could remember thinking was that despite his tough exterior, his lips were soft and you could lose yourself in the comfort of having his arms around you all day if he let you.

Pulling away first, a beaming smile spread across Bucky’s face as he rubbed circles against your back.

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad,” He teased. “You could’ve just asked.”

First “I Love You”

Sitting on the edge of the rooftop, your legs swinging in the air, you offered the bag of popcorn in your hand to your boyfriend who was sat beside you. Taking his eyes off of the view in front of him, he grabbed a fistful of the salty treat from the bag, popping it in his mouth.

“Did you have stuff like this back in the olden times?” You asked, laying your head on his shoulder.

“What?” He asked despite his mouth being full. “You mean fireworks? How old do you think I am?”

Laughing at how he mocked offense over your question, you sat up straight, pecking his cheek.

“One hundred doesn’t sound much better, babe.”

Rolling his eyes, knowing that you loved him anyway, he brushed off the remaining salt from his fingertips, wrapping his vibranium arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him.

Just as he pressed a gentle kiss against your temple, he jumped in his spot as he heard the loud sound of the first firework shooting up into the air over the water before “popping” and bursting into an array of color.

“Look!” You exclaimed, pointing towards the display. “It’s starting!”

Although he took a quick glance at the firework display, his attention was purely focused on you. He couldn’t help but admire the way the colorful lights reflected on your skin or how you had a hint of an open smile on your face watching as the fireworks burst midair. No show could compare to looking at you.

He couldn't help but feel his heart race in his chest, breath caught in his throat as he admired your beauty- even when you were still in your suit from watching over the parade with him earlier that evening. He was convinced there wasn’t a single thing about you that he wasn’t completely enamored with and you only gave him more reasons to love you every single day.

Before he even realized what he was saying, admiring you in complete bliss and utter awe, the words slipped out of his mouth.

“I love you.”

He thought you wouldn’t be able to hear, the sound of another firework popping ringing in his ear, but when you turned towards him, your eyes wide and mouth agape, he knew you had.

“Did you just say that you love me?” You asked, fireworks continuing to burst behind you.

Not one to lie- especially not to you- he nodded his head.

“Yeah.”

A smile beginning to form on your face, you grabbed the strap on his jacket, pulling him closer to you.

“I love you too.”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his, the sound of the finale of the display ringing behind you as the fireworks burst one after another in air, every color imaginable washing over your joined figures sitting on the edge of the rooftop on that cool summer night, almost as if it were taking the feeling shared between the two of you and bringing it to life for the world to see.

First Home

“Okay!” You nodded, pointing to the corner of your living room. “That one can go over there. Thank you so much for your help, Steve.”

“I helped Buck move into his first apartment, Y/n.” Steve said wiping his hands on his pants. “I wouldn’t miss stuff like this for anything.”

Smiling at Steve’s comment, you felt Bucky’s vibranium hand land on your lower back, pulling you closer. Leaning into his touch, you wrapped your arm around him in return, staring up at your boyfriend.

“Yeah and the first time he was about a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter.” Bucky chuckled. “This is easy for him.”

Watching Natasha set down the last box on top of a pile of the others in the kitchen, you excused yourself from your boyfriend and his best friend, making your way into the other room.

When you had left the two of them’s earshot, Bucky watching as you left, Steve rested his hand on Bucky's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“You know,” Steve said. “I’m happy for you, Buck. I think this is gonna be good for you.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s comment- despite how cheesy it was- because he knew it was true.

When Bucky’s memory had finally been cleared, a part of him had always feared that even though he had been given a new chance at life, he would never have a normal one. Although he knew “normal” was a strong term for the life you two shared together given that he was a century old super soldier and you had magical abilities- you had given him a chance at a peaceful life full of love and contentment which was all he could ever dream of asking for.

The idea of finding love and having a family was something that he worried was left eighty years in the past, but you proved to him that life didn’t end for him when he fell from that train- if anything it brought him the beginning he had always hoped for.

“Sure you won’t miss me too bad, pal?” Bucky asked.

Taking his hand back from Bucky’s shoulder, Steve laughed shoving his hand in his pockets.

“No, I think I’m used to it by now.” Steve chuckled. “It’s just like you to be able to find a woman with shared life experience even when half the world disappears.”

Shaking his head at his friend’s joke, he shoved him playfully.

“C’mon, ya’know this is different.” Bucky said. “I think this is the last one for me.”

Without missing a beat, Steve smiled.

“I know.”

Hearing the sound of you and Natasha’s footsteps stepping back into the room, Bucky kept his mouth shut, feeling your hand run over his shoulder as you stood beside him.

“Don’t forget about me now that you have your own place, okay Y/n?” Nat said crossing her arms.

“Don’t worry.” You told her. “I’ll come visit every day.”

“Well, not every day-” Bucky interjected.

“No. I meant what I said. Every day, Nat. You’ll wish you never said anything.”

Once the laughter that had erupted in the room settled, Steve and Nat said their goodbyes to you and your boyfriend, you both waving them off as you shut the door behind them. When the door was shut and you and Bucky were left in your new apartment alone together, you rushed over to your bag by the door, pulling a neatly wrapped gift out of it.

“What’s this?” Bucky asked as you handed him the present.

“Just a little housewarming gift.” You smiled.

Gazing at your smiling face, a smile finding its way onto his, he looked down at the present in his hands, carefully tearing the paper off of the gift to reveal a framed photo of the two of you.

A framed photo of the two of you fighting in an airport three years ago on the day you first met.

“So, Tony had put a camera in Peter’s suit back before we went and fought you guys.” You explained. “And I thought it had to be gone since Peter was... you know... but it turned out that Tony still had the footage so I was able to find some from that day at the airport and in it there was this quick little shot of us fighting and I just had to have it, Buck.”

Flipping the frame around at you, he raised his eyebrows.

“A photo of us fighting?”

“Yes!” You told him. “Do you like it?”

Despite the fact that it was a photo of the two of you fighting- a fight that he had gotten his ass kicked in no less- he loved it more than anything else you could have possibly given him because it was the day he met you. It was the day his life changed and he didn’t even know it in the moment.

Although your story was far from “normal” it was your story and that’s what mattered the most to him.

“I love it, doll.” He said, pulling you into his embrace. “This is a crazy story to tell our kids though, huh?”

“All of them are.” You laughed into his chest. “But I wouldn't have it any other way, Buck. I love you.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, a photograph of the day your story first began in his hand, he smiled.

“I love you too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes blurb #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes fluff

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enamouredfae · 4 years ago

Text

♡ Pick a Card ♡

Advice from your Spirit Guides!

This reading is for entertainment purposes only.

This is a timeless reading for the collective, therefore it is likely that some messages will not resonate with you. Please only take the messages that do! The messages that do not, are meant for somebody else. Remember that the future is never set in stone and that you possess free will! Love you! ♡

Pile 1

Charm: Shell

You may see shells as signs from the universe. You may have Venusian placements. You have a tough exterior, but once you finally open up to people you are a hidden gem! You are a person that values privacy.

Flower: Carnation

The meaning of carnation changes depending on its colour, since this one is a stripped purple carnation, it symbolizes rejection/refusal and capriciousness. It being a dry bud, for me at least, symbolizes that this is a small issue that isn't likely to grow! You might've been refused a caprice recently, or you may have too high expectations that are likely not going to be fulfilled.

Significator: Page of Cups

Self-sufficient is the word I thought of when I saw this card. I think that at the moment you are really starting to work through your emotions, you might be finally doing some introspection, journaling, talking to people, seeing a therapist, etc. You are beginning a journey of emotional growth. You might also be receiving a message soon, be aware of any symbols that matter to you or ask the universe for certain symbols for guidance.

Astro: Virgo and Capricorn

There is a high chance that you have Virgo or Capricorn placements. You may be earth dominant. You may be Mercury/Saturn dominant/ruled. This could also apply to the person you need advice on if that is the case.

I thought of soil when I saw these cards, not a plant, but very well-nourished soil. It seems like you are making a foundation for yourself that is not rooted in anyone else, it simply comes from you. You are the soil, the water, the nutrients, and your future self is the plant. Flower crowns may be significant to you as well, or you may find great healing by connecting with nature and connecting to nature's cycles.

What you need advice on:

VI of Wands and X of Pentacles (reversed)

There are a few possibilities I see here. You may be having a hard time getting your accomplishments noticed by others, you might not receive the praise you desire or feel you deserve. Another possibility is that you may have a hard time feeling successful due to your financial situation. You may have received a large sum of money that should make you happy, but it doesn't. You may be very well off financially, but it is causing some hardships, and others might not understand these hardships because they think that they'd be very happy in your position.

Advice:

King of Pentacles and XVIII. The Moon

I feel like at least one of you should monetize your intuition. Some of you have or will meet a person (very likely an earth placement), that is either a business partner or a lover/friend, that will somehow help you with your financial issue. They might recommend you to someone for example. Perhaps if you confide in the King of Pentacles, they'll help you immensely, they're someone you can rely on, if not financially, emotionally. Others should embody the King of Pentacles, be determined, stick to a routine. For others, someone could be hiding smth from you that would help you immensely with this issue. Listen to your intuition! Do not forget that your anxieties and fears are valid, and it is normal to be feeling like this! Your worth is not defined by your financial success!

38. Willow and 5. Cerato and Honeysuckle

Willow talks about self-responsibility: make a plan, stick to it and, most importantly, try to stop complaining. You have the strength to get through this, complaining just engrains it in your head that you have a problem making it harder to get out of that mindset, instead try working on the solution. Cerato talks about the fact that no matter how many people you ask, no matter how many books you read, your gut knows best! Trust yourself and your intuition. Whatever feels right, is! Just know that domestic happiness is very important right now, cherish whoever that may be (King of Pentacles perhaps), be it your cat or even yourself if you live alone, give and accept affection! This could be a message for a specific person but I feel called to note that as I was shuffling the oracles I started singing "Runaway" by Aurora. Perhaps the lyrics are meaningful to one of you, or it can reassure you that this pile is meant for you if this is your favorite song.

Pile 2

Charm: Cactus

You may see cacti as signs from the universe or have a very strong emotional attachment to them due to a certain memory. I feel like a lot of people are attracted to you, but they feel that you will reject or hurt them if they get too close. Or you consciously or subconsciously hurt people when they get too close. You might think you don't deserve love, which is NOT TRUE. Love isn't something that has to be deserved! But if it were, you most certainly deserve it!

Flower: Freesia

Yellow freesias symbolize joy, renewal, and friendship. It is the go-to flower to convey to someone that you trust them. You are incredibly trustworthy, someone to whom your loved ones come for advice. You are a great listener, are very delicate and tactful in your interactions with others.

Significator: IX. The Hermit

You are doing a lot of self-reflection right now, sometimes the pondering even turns into daydreams. You may also be connecting with and thinking about your spiritual/religious beliefs. You are looking to understand the light that illuminates your path. You may have started meditating, or you should start! Spiritual awakening is happening or coming soon! You could be isolating yourself at the moment as well.

Astro: Jupiter and Libra

There is a high chance that you have Libra or Sagittarius placements. You may be air dominant. You may be Jupiter/Venus dominant/ruled. This could also apply to the person you need advice on if that is the case.

The words that I kept thinking about at this point in the reading were "letting karma do its job" and "visions of the future". You may be clairvoyant! But most of you act a lot like the Justice tarot card, you like balance and fairness, and have a life philosophy based on these ideas. Your higher education might've played a big role in this.

What you need advice on:

II of Cups (reversed) and Queen of Swords

Someone may be rationalizing or overthinking a perceived imbalance in a relationship. Of course, the Queen of Swords, likely an air placement, is intelligent, they may be right in their thinking but because of the advice received, I believe their judgment is clouded by insecurity. They may feel unworthy of what they receive, seeing that you chose the cactus charm and have libra as an astro card, it is very likely that this is you but this may be your person as well, both options are possible.

Advice:

King of Cups and IV of Swords (reversed)

See, the King of Cups is upright, this person, very likely a water placement, is very emotionally mature, compassionate, and understanding. Whereas the swords person is exhausted and stagnant due to the deep contemplation happening. I feel they may also be insecure, causing the overthinking. If this is you, trust me, you deserve the King of Cups! If this is your person, make them realize that they deserve you! They need a lot of reassurance.

1. Agrimony and 7. Chestnut Bud and Morning Glory

Love, whether romantic or platonic, requires hard work, determination, and affection. Agrimony talks about a person that needs balance, both inside and outside. You may find it by showing more of yourself, especially by starting with your loved ones. Because you might not be used to it, start little by little, and observe how accepting those you love can be. Chestnut Bud talks about focus and learning from experience. For me, it's another confirmation that someone is overthinking, see the girl looking very melancholic, whereas their counterpart is goofing around. Don't take life too seriously! Have fun with your loved one!

Pile 3

Charm: Leaf

You might see certain trees or leaves as signs from the universe. When I picked up this charm I immediately thought "Leave!" So if you were thinking about a voyage, there's your sign, just be mindful of covid regulations, please. The idea of falling also popped up, so you might be falling for someone rn or feeling like you're in a perpetual fall emotionally.

Flower: Orchid

I would just like to point out that, although this orchid dried white, it was actually a baby purple orchid when alive. I will therefore explain both colors: purple orchids represent royalty, admiration, and respect, whereas white ones symbolize purity and innocence. But they are, no matter what color, always a symbol of luxury, delicate beauty, and virility.

Significator: 0. The Fool

You may be starting smth new with confidence, smth you haven't done before, making you a bit inexperienced, but still willing to take the leap of faith. OR you may be acting foolishly by looking back or the opposite way of the thing you'd do with confidence. Let me explain, as you can see the Astro cards are both looking in one direction, with determination, and confidence. Whereas The Fool is looking the opposite way. Your significator may be saying that you're being foolish to look the other way, wondering what-ifs.

Astro: Sagittarius and Mars

There is a high chance that you have Sagittarius, Aries, or Scorpio placements. You may be fire dominant. You may be Jupiter/Mars dominant/ruled. This could also apply to the person you need advice on if that is the case.

You have a clear goal that you can easily reach through your actions. Look at Mars' demeanor, he knows Sagittarius is hitting the target. Do not doubt yourself, there's nothing to worry about. Stay focused!

What you need advice on:

XI. Justice (reversed) and Queen of Cups

Clearly, there is a decision to be made here, and you really want to listen to your heart. And you're questioning whether you should? I just want to reassure you, the Queen of Cups is highly in tune with their intuition and their emotions, you should trust yourself.

Advice:

X of Swords (reversed) and II of Pentacles

You are clearly in pain, whether or not it is talking about this decision that is eating you up. Healing and recovery are important right now! It's time to stop resisting an inevitable end, and start recovering. Look, the reversal allows for the swords to just fall out of your back, just look inwards! Don't forget to balance work with fun, you deserve to relax! Another way to see this is that you are restricting yourself by seeing this as a choice, why not do both? Although, if we are talking about people here, there better be a mutual agreement on polygamy! I will not invite you to cheat! If we are talking about activities, you are capable of doing both if it's too hard to choose, you just need to figure out how to balance them. A specific message is that some of you want to go back to doing smth you've dreamt of doing as a child, if that is the case, pls do it, at least as a hobby!

13. Gorse and 32. Vine and Trumpet Gentian

There is a need to heal some inner wounds. I immediately thought of inner child work when I saw the Trumpet Gentian in combination with the Vine. Vine talks about acts of service and leadership skills, try parenting yourself/your inner child, give yourself the love that you may have lacked as a kid. You are worthy of it! Gorse is all about perspective and imagination. Do a brainstorming of possible outcomes depending on the decision you take, you can do this alone, but the input of loved ones that can be honest with you would do wonders. Don't forget your future can go in many different ways, and whichever decision you take is the right one!

Pile 4

Charm: Angel

You may see angels or angel numbers as signs from the universe. You are a person that is divinely guided and divinely protected. It seems to me like you have a very strong intuition or are very aware of your divine gifts.

Flower: Rose

Of course, roses are always symbolic of love. Therefore I believe it is more note-worthy here to talk about the size. This is a tiny rose. Just like the carnation bud, it did not have time to grow and is now immortalized in its youth stage. You may be inexperienced in love, or hold naive beliefs about it. You might be experiencing youthful romance right now.

Significator: XV. The Devil

What I find interesting here is that you got the angel charm with the devil significator. This is very conflicting energy. The sentence that I kept thinking throughout the reading is "wolf in sheep clothing" or "sheep in wolf's clothing", I kept mixing up the words, just very contradictory energy. The way you present yourself to the world is very different from how you truly are. You might also be a person prone to obsessing over people, things, interests, etc. I also would like to note here that this pile was the hardest to get the cards, the amount of shuffling I did here until the cards flew made me sweat hahaha. It's also a very confusing reading. Therefore, I believe you carry a lot of confusion yourself, although your intuition is incredibly powerful, you might suffer from being very paranoid, and sometimes being unable to differentiate your intuition from your delusions. I also think you're very secretive, you do not want people to know or understand you.

Astro: Neptune and Moon

There is a high chance that you have Pisces or Cancer placements. You may be water dominant. You may be Neptune/Moon dominant/ruled. You could have a Neptune/Moon aspect. This could also apply to the person you need advice on if that is the case.

"This is a time of great psychic sensitivity for you. Trust your intuition and follow its guidance." You should try to differentiate emotions from intuition, I know it's hard, but they are different things, and it's very important to tell them apart! Your dreams may hold messages, try having a dream journal and interpreting them if you don't do that already.

What you need advice on:

IX of Wands (reversed) and V of Swords (reversed)

As you can see ALL of the tarot cards I've received in this reading are reversed, implying inner conflicts that require inner change/work. You might've said/done smth you now regret, and you hate yourself for it, you may also be incredibly paranoid that others will find out. You want the paranoia to end. You want to make amends, to reconciliate/atone, but are unsure on whether you should do it. Perhaps you don't feel emotionally prepared to reopen that wound.

Advice:

V. The Hierophant (reversed) and VII of Wands (reversed)

What I noticed here is that The Hierophant mirrors The Devil, not as perfectly as The Lovers, but it is incredibly similar. Once again that energy of opposition, contradiction, and confusion appears, "the wolf in sheep's clothing". For some, my fixation on this phrase could be a warning. For others an invitation to look in the mirror... Try looking at the situation from the other person's point of view! I'm not saying you are a "wolf in sheep's clothing", but that might be how you're being perceived. You are exhausted, remorse is eating up all of your energy. The Hierophant is saying that you should stay true to your personal beliefs, so if you believe apologizing is necessary to move on, do it!

This could be unrelated and for a specific person, but don't be afraid of challenging the status quo! If it hurts none, do as you will, embody your true self! I just want to remind you that going against your loved one's idea of "normalcy" is not hurting them, it's loving yourself. But remember that you also don't owe anyone a "coming out", you are valid whether or not you tell people! Do whatever your heart tells you and please be safe!

!!! : Of course, this doesn't count if what's challenging the status quo doesn't respect others' identity/ sexuality/ ethnicity/ religion/ etc. If challenging the status quo comes from a place of hate please block me. Nobody is using this reading as a sign to do some fucked up shit.

3. Beech and 2. Aspen and Lily

When I saw Beech I immediately thought "talk to someone, or you could spiral." Beech talks about self-acceptance and self-compassion. You must first accept yourself as you are, an imperfect human being, like all humans, before starting to work on embodying your highest self. Stay open-minded! Aspen, on the other hand, invites you to connect with others, not only for advice or consoling but for quality time! I have a feeling that you have very high morals, but having them isn't enough, you must act accordingly!

Thank you for reading! Love you all.♡

You can buy me a coffee if you feel called to do so! This is never necessary, but always appreciated! ♡

#this took SO long #im sorry the messages seem to be all over the place and not necessarily coherent there were just a LOT of possibilities #take what resonates #pick a card #pick a pile #fortune telling #divination #collective reading #collective tarot reading #free tarot #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #oracle #oracles #oracle cards #witchcraft #enamouredfae #enamouredfaepickacard

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letsasoiaftogether · 3 years ago

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Targaryen #11

Word Count: 1,557

Warning: None!

A/N: Viserys II, Father to Aegon IV “The Unworthy” and grandfather to Daemon Blackfyre and Daeron the Good, and Great-Great Grandfather to the likes of Egg and Maester Aemon! This is based about a year before Aegonn IV takes the throne. I hope you all enjoy!

“I always knew I would end up here. It’s...not a good feeling to have - to have known all along how my brothers’ sons would end up.” his voice echoed over the hall - Viserys, youngest son to Rhaenyra and Daemon, second of his name, the tenth Targaryen to “officially” sit the Iron Throne.

He sat on the throne where one his namesake and grandfather sat. His purple gaze on you as you approached.

“You have ruled for many years. A crown on your head or a golden pin on your chest, its all the same.” you smiled under his stern look, one of the few people who could be so calm under the ever appraising stare the man possessed.

Getting to the bottom of the dais, you waited just a moment before climbing the stairs to him.

In some ways, you were Queen now.

You werent married to him; he had become far too jaded with the practice after his previous wife and mother to his three legal children had left him and returned to Lys. But you had been his paramour for the last five years and had given him two bastard daughters. The realm knew you and they accepted you because of who your father was, the charity work you never hesitated to participate in, and the regal way you had carried yourself from the moment you came to court.

There was no hesitation or feelings of guilty embarrassment as you sat yourself on Viserys’ lap, placing a kiss to his jaw.

“Aegon will rule after me.” Viserys whispered, half in thought as he grabbed your jaw - holding eye contact as he spoke.

And what a mess that will be. You couldn’t help but think, dryly.

“And Daeron after him.” you hummed, thinking fondly of your lover’s eldest and only grandchild.

Viserys fell silent and if it hadn't been for the fact you were looking at him you would have thought he fell asleep.

“To think the dynasty comes down to my line.” Viserys finally whispered, his throat dry as if he hadn’t drank anything in days, “My son...spoiled and lost to whatever fancies he has moment by moment. My grandson who is no warrior but a well learned young man. Where are the dragons who could be both warrior and intelligent? Aegon...he will cause so much strife. Daeron will be left to pick up the pieces. Daeron will need warriors...there will be a war in his lifetime...another civil war like the one my parents fought.”

His words sent shivers down your spine followed by fear for what he was predicting. It was all so morbid; another war involving the Dragons? Another Dance of the Dragons? Who would Daeron be against then? Perhaps Princess Daena’s bastard son? Little Daemon was only a year old and his father was unknown; although, Viserys had confided in you one night not long after the boy’s birth that he knew Aegon to be the father. If so, would Princess Daena and Aegon fight to make Daemon Aegon’s heir and not Daeron?

You shushed his ramblings with a sweet kiss, “You’re barely making any sense, My Love. Please, be at peace. You have many years ahead of you. Things can change so quickly during a reign.”

Your King and Lover sighed, shaking his head. “Of course, you’re right.” he was clearly still bothered, but you appreciated his efforts to try and not be.

“I am going to give you a castle within the Crownlands for you and the girls.” Viserys informed you as he brushed his fingers down your cheek, there was a tenderness in his gaze even as that troubled look from before didn't go away completely.

You frowned at his words, “Why? What’s wrong with the manse?” you had lived in King’s Landing ever since coming to court six years earlier, and you had never had any trouble!

“It’s for after I’m gone.” Viserys sighed, almost as if he suddenly felt like he was talking to a petulant child who wasn’t listening to what he was saying. He suddenly looked so tired.

His words only served to confuse you more. And to upset you for you didn't’ want to think about him dying.

It wasn't like he was dying now. The Maester would have told you - Viserys would have told you.

He’s being paranoid then? Preparing for the worst?

Viserys was a stern man and intelligent, but he didn't see enemies where they werent. He was too sensible for that.

So, that meant he already knew something? A plot against him?

Then why hadn't he said something to you?

You were pulled from your frantic thoughts at the feeling of a pair of lips being pressed to your forehead.

“Who is it, Your Grace?” you asked, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as you pleaded with him to tell you.

A small, sad smile appeared on Viserys’ lips - a look you had never wanted to see there and never thought you would. Viserys was normally so well guarded with any emotions that could be seen as weak (especially emotions like sadness or melancholy, not wanting the people of Westeros to see him as they saw his brother. Broken.).

“It’s alright. Let it be.” Viserys whispered as the double wooden doors at the end of the hall opened, revealing Aemon “The Dragonknight” - Viserys’ second son and middle legal child - dressed in the white of the Kingsguard.

You moved from Viserys lap, although he kept a hand on your thigh, and you curtsied out of respect to the knight as he approached. “Ser,” you smiled gently at the man and he smiled back before turning his attention back to his father.

“Your Grace,” Aemon bowed before uttering a “Father,” to show that his arrival wasn’t related to Viserys being King but on a more personal, intimate level. “Are you well? You have been in here for quite some time.”

That was certainly true.

You had found the King in the throne room well into the evening after he hadn’t arrived for dinner. You didn’t know how long Aemon must have stood outside the hall, but by the worried lines etched onto the knights face it had to be quite a while.

“I was only thinking, Aemon.” Viserys stood, his hand sliding from your thigh up to the middle of your back, “I am King, but I am still allowed to have my own private thoughts.” it was a reminder to both of you, you knew that, and you couldn’t help but flush at the small hint of annoyance in his voice.

Aemon nodded, “Of course, Father.”

You nodded as well, “Yes, Your Grace.” and you looked up at him, watching as he and his son shared a silent showdown before Viserys’ gaze shifted to you. “Come, lets return to our chambers and put the girls to bed. They’ve missed you as late.” you encouraged, softly, trying to help ease his mind from royal murder plots and the melancholy that had befallen him that evening.

“Probably wise. It’s getting late.” Aemon spoke up on your behalf just as Viserys opened his mouth, probably to argue.

The man looked between his son and you, that stern look appearing on his face. He always hated when his children ganged up on him.

“Come now, Love. I’m in need of some alone time with My King.” you murmured, pressing your body against him in hopes it would entice him enough to get him to put down his troubles for the time being.

Viserys sighed, almost dramatically, and ran a hand down his face. “You are going to be the death of me if you keep this up.” he accused with a mock glare that was nowhere near reaching his eyes.

“Oh shush,” you laughed, pinching his arm “You’re going to cause your own death if you don’t start taking care of yourself.”

He didn’t say anything in return, just took your hand and walked the few stairs down from the dias to where the Dragonknight stood waiting.

You followed, leaning into him.

“What is this about his death?” Aemon questioned into your ear as the three of you headed from the hall through the King’s private door just to the side of the throne.

You shook your head, reassuring him it was nothing. You didn’t want to worry him or abuse the King’s trust in you by sharing private matters with his son. If Viserys thought it needed to be known, his son and Lord Commander of his Kingsguard would be one of the first to know.

You were still worried about what Viserys had said to you, what he had implied, and you couldn’t help but go through the list of people who would attempt an assassination attempt and those who had the resources to succeed. The list wasn’t that long but there were more than two dozen people on it. For a King, such a list having only one person on it was far too many.

Sighing, shakily, you pressed yourself closer to Viserys’ side, vowing to do everything in your power to keep him safe and keep him alive.

I might not have been born a dragon, but I am the lover to one. I am made of Fire and Blood when the situation calls for it.

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justmypartner · 3 years ago

Text

Still Breathing: Chapter 1

Summary: AU | When a case goes sideways, Hailey wakes up in the hospital with a revelation that leaves her evaluating her life. While she recovers at Med, she meets Jay, an aloof, yet intriguing patient that catches her by surprise. The two get to know one another as they take on the task of rediscovering what it’s like to truly live, and eventually learn their lives intersect in more ways than one.

Writer’s Note: Hi!!! I’ve had this idea for a while and it’s taken me quite a bit to finally get started, but I’m super excited about it. This probably won’t be a weekly fic, but I’ll try and post as frequently as possible. I don’t want to give too much away… but it explores something in the Halstead background that has been referenced, but never fully developed so I really tried to dive deep into what it is and how it would affect Jay. It’s been fun (and somewhat emotional) to work through & I really hope you enjoy!!

Read on AO3 or below

“Order, Arms,” a voice called out, sending Hailey’s hand back down to her side.

She remained in place, frozen as she resumed attention, fighting hard to conceal the joy spilling out of her. It was her graduation day. She was just sworn in, and for the first time ever, deemed an Officer of the Chicago Police Department. She took in the room from under the low brim of her hat, her lips curling up at the corners as the Department Pipes and Drums began to play. She closed her eyes briefly, relishing in the moment, and when she opened, she was suddenly somewhere else entirely. She was no longer standing in the middle of the Grand Ballroom at Navy Pier. She still wore those same blues from before, slightly older and more worn than they once were, but her bright, green attitude she previously bore was gone. She was exhausted and nervous, sitting before her District Commander in a small and unfamiliar room in Ivory Tower.

“Hailey, I hope I don’t have to remind you that you are not to discuss the case with anyone, nothing you did, nothing you saw, not a single detail that pertains to the operation is to be exchanged until you are told otherwise by the AUSA’s office,” the Commander instructed her, carrying an even tone that made the reason for the meeting hard to discern.

“Yes ma’am,” Hailey affirmed with a simple nod.

“With that being said, I have news for you. There will be a more formal presentation of this news, but for now I get to be the first to tell you,” the Commander spoke, inhaling deeply before continuing. “Officer Hailey Upton, for your outstanding acts of heroism and performance during the aforementioned case, on behalf of the Superintendent of Police, the Bureau of Detectives, and the entirety of the Chicago Police Department, we commend your service with a merit promotion to the ranking of Detective.”

Her brows raised in surprise. After the long stretch undercover, she was just happy to finally be Hailey again, to be in her home, to be able to work with the safety and familiarity of her coworkers. She had spent those weeks hoping the case would lend her a promotion, but she never fully imagined that it would. She was equal parts ecstatic and stunned by the news, but she blinked, and she was transported once again. She was no longer sitting across from her District Commander but from Sergeant Voight in the low light of his office.

“Our only Detective just recently and unexpectedly took furlough. Burgess, Ruzek, Atwater, we’ve been trying to make do with just us, but we’re stretched thin. There’s a spot on our team and we could really use the help. It’s yours if you want it,” his gravelly voice posited.

Before she knew it, those moments that stood out so vividly in her mind became fuzzy images in what seemed like a poorly put together movie, and everything began to fade to black.

When she finally woke, it was to the sound of machines and the low babel of indistinct conversation. As her eyes blinked open, she took in the glimpse of four familiar faces and numerous wires and IVs hooked up to her body.

She hadn’t been in Intelligence long, only about two weeks before she wound up in that hospital room, but she knew from her first day that she had stumbled upon her forever people. She didn’t take the job with this expectation. In fact, she was expecting it to be as rocky as her first time working with the team. Yet, she came to learn that despite the reputation that preceded them, they were some of the most loyal and genuine people she had met in all of her time with the CPD. In only the short amount of time she had been with them, they had clung to her in a way nobody else ever had, developing what she knew to be a lifelong bond. The fact that their faces were the first she saw when she finally came to only affirmed that.

“There she is!” Kevin’s voice rang as they all rose, making their way closer to her bedside.

“Did we get them?” Her voice croaked, and they all nodded in confirmation, looking over to their sergeant to deliver the news.

Her memory of right before everything went dark was fuzzy. She wasn’t exactly sure what caused the injuries that left her aching all over, but everything else, the case, the targets, it was all still fresh in her mind. She didn’t want to talk about the case. She didn’t even want to think about it, but she needed to know if they got them. That everything that happened was worth it. She breathed out, allowing a sliver of tension that had been bottled up inside of her release with it. She watched them nod, and she waited for her boss to tell her what she needed to hear.

“We got ‘em, kid. They’re going down for everything, but most importantly for what they did to you,” he assured. She nodded, flinching at the surge of pain that came with the small movement.

“Okay, everybody. I need some time with the patient if you don’t mind,” the doctor announced as she entered the room. They all nodded, grabbing their things to leave.

“I’m happy you’re okay,” Kim told her, reaching out and briefly resting a hand over hers. Voight and Adam nodded in agreement before they all turned to walk out.

“Tough as they come, girl. Glad you’re still with us,” Kevin said, reaching out his arm and fist for her to bump. She smiled, bumping him back with her uninjured arm and thanking them all for being there.

Once they had left the room, the doctor quickly read over her chart before rolling a chair over to her.

“So, give me the rundown. How bad is it?” Hailey questioned anxiously.

“You were shot three times. Twice in the abdomen, once in the shoulder. That vest of yours caught the first two. However, they did leave some pretty significant bruising so we are going to need to monitor you closely, make sure you don’t develop any internal bleeding or rupture. The one in your shoulder was a through and through. We were able to go in and repair what it tore, but you lost a lot of blood. So, you should get comfortable. We’re going to need to keep you here for observation a few days. Looks like you’ll be out of work for the next week at the least, then out of the field for a few weeks after that,” She explained. Hailey just nodded simply in response, a look of defeat on her face.

“Detective, it could have been a lot worse had you not been wearing that vest. It also could have been a lot worse if that bullet in your shoulder struck just a half a centimeter lower. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but I’d say you’re pretty lucky,” she admitted, rising from her chair before dropping her chart at the end of the bed and making her way out of the room.

Lucky. It wasn’t the word she’d use to describe how she was feeling. On top of the pain, she was reeling from that vision she had just before her breathing stalled and everything shut off. She’d always heard people say their life flashed before their eyes in those kind of moments, but she never expected it to be such a deflating experience. Her life flashed before her eyes, but the only outstanding moments were her graduation from the academy, her promotion to detective, and her offer into Intelligence. She loved her job, and she was proud of those moments, but it felt disillusioning that in what felt like her final moments, the only good memories her brain could come up with tied back to her job. A job that too often reminded her of all of the bad in the world. A job that had landed her there in the first place.

She didn’t want to fully think about what happened. She wasn’t emotionally prepared for it. Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about the moment before she lost consciousness, when those memories flashed through her mind. It made her realize just how empty her life had been. Her injuries may not have necessarily been life threatening, but she felt as though she was getting a second chance. A second chance to get more out of life than a few job related accomplishments in her end-of-life film reel. A second chance to be intentional about making more memories.

- - - -

A few days had gone by, and she was still in the hospital. She was already feeling better, more than ready to go home, but her doctor extended her stay, wanting to monitor her and her labs. She spent a lot of time in her room, keeping her mind busy with a few books Kim had brought her, but getting distracted by whatever rerun was playing on the small tv screen in the corner of the room. She didn’t have any visitors, something that only added to the epiphany about her life that had her rattled from the moment she woke. Her Intelligence family was practically all she had. They stopped by when they could, but for the most part they were all busy at work, leaving her alone to herself and the occasional check in from various medical staff. Boredom was growing with each passing minute, and she thought about how hard it would be to survive a few weeks out of the field if she couldn’t even make it through a few days in the hospital.

Having enough of sitting in the hospital bed, she was able to convince a nurse to let her sneak out for a walk around the hospital. She felt like a mess. She was dressed head to toe in sweats, her right arm was in a sling, and the look was pulled together with a pair of socks and sandals. Not exactly the most flattering outfit, but she had reached the level of restlessness that left her unaffected by her appearance. She just needed to be out of that room.

She got another book in the gift shop and stopped by the cafeteria where she found some chocolate ice cream. She tucked the book into her sling as she walked about the halls, shoveling the snack into her mouth with each step. She finally climbed into the elevator, and pressed the button for her floor before settling into the back corner. Every bit seemed better than the last. She wasn’t sold on the hospital food. It reminded her of grade school cafeteria food, something she was never fond of, so she knew that ice cream would be the only good thing she had to eat all day. The elevator stopped at the next floor and a man stepped in, pressing a button before settling into the corner across from her. She briefly looked up at him with a friendly nod before looking back down into the cup in her hand for another bite. Suddenly, a movement across the car brought her attention back to him. He had pulled a needled syringe from his pocket and began pressing it into his forearm. Her posture straightened and she froze as she watched him repeatedly stab his arm with the needle.

“Trypanophobia… don’t worry, it’s a prop needle,” he broke through the silence, and she relaxed slightly as he continued to speak.

“You know? The ones they use in movies that don’t actually pierce the skin. My idiot brother said the best way to overcome my fear of needles is exposure therapy, starting with these fake ones. Yet, I’ve been in and out of this hospital for several weeks now, plenty exposed to these things, and I still can’t seem to get used to the poking and prodding,” the man said, flashing her a shy smile as he continued pushing the needle into his arm.

“Seems like pretty sound advice to me. Maybe your idiot brother isn’t such an idiot after all,” she responded back with amusement.

“Yeah, well he may be a doctor, but he’s also my older brother which, in my eyes, makes him an idiot by default,” he said matter-of-factly, immediately looking up at her with a curl in his lips.

“Ah, well I have 2 brothers myself, so I suppose I can somewhat appreciate that sentiment,” she smirked, looking over at him from the other side of the elevator.

She discretely eyed him as he busied his focus back on the syringe in his hand. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and a shirt that fit a little too tight, revealing toned muscles underneath with every movement. The beanie he wore fully covered his head but based on the freckles all across his face and the darkness of his eyebrows, she had to guess he was a redhead, maybe even a brunette. His face was clean shaven, which made it hard to tell just how old he was, but his eyes were what had her. They were an entrancing blend of green and blue, and they gave off a sort of friendly warmth that mellowed out his somewhat intimidating deportment.

“What landed you in here?” He asked, continuing to mindlessly press the object into his arm.

“I- injured on the job,” she put simply.

“Been there,” he said directly, his obscurity matching hers. Her brow furrowed briefly before silence filled the small space and she centered her focus back on the ice cream in her hand.

“Are you doing anything right now, you know, besides stuffing your face with diabetes?” He queried, cutting through the silence and nodding to the cup of ice cream in her hand. She scoffed sarcastically.

“Why do you ask?” She questioned dubiously, trying to keep a lightness in her voice. “Also, I’ll have you know this is the only decent thing to eat this hospital has to offer. I survived a few bullets, I’m sure a little sugar won’t kill me,” she replied. He chuckled as she scooped up a large bite and shoveled it into her mouth with pride.

“Fair enough. And I ask because I have some time to kill, so I just wanted to see if you cared to join me for a little golf on the roof,” he said.

“There isn’t golf on the roof,” she shook her head, amused by the way he proposed it so factually.

“Oh, but there is,” he returned. She squinted her eyes at him in disbelief, and he quickly pressed the elevator button for the roof. She didn’t believe him, but she was bored. Out of her mind. So, she reluctantly decided to follow him. When the elevator stopped at the rooftop, he led her out to an opening with a small patch of turf, two clubs, and a basket of golf balls.

“What the hell? You were serious?” she laughed.

“Yeah, I was serious. I never joke about golf,” He said frankly, grabbing a golf club and placing the ball on the tee.

“Is this even allowed?” She asked, placing her empty cup down as she watched him swing the club into the ball. Her eyes travelled it as it flew from the roof, and she brought her eyes back to him, a staggered look on her face.

“Probably not, but like I said, my idiot brother is a doctor, so if we get caught I’ll just blame it on him,” he smiled, flashing her a wink before hitting another ball off the tee. “Do you want to try?” He asked, offering her a club.

“Don’t think that’s even possible,” she returned, raising her slinged arm slightly to make her point.

“That’s no excuse,” he said, “Come here,” he instructed. She gave in, making her way over toward him.

Close up, his eyes were more green than blue, and they were so beautiful that she found herself getting lost in them for a second. She snapped back into focus when he offered her the club. She took it, and he helped her adjust her feet so that she was standing properly. He placed a ball on the tee, took a step back, and motioned for her to have at it.

She wound the shot up with her uninjured arm and struck the ball. She was still sore from her injuries, and the movement of the swing sent a surge of pain through her torso. She flinched, chipping the top of the ball in the follow through. They both erupted in laughter when the ball barely went but a few feet in front of them, and she dropped the club to the ground to clutch at her abdomen.

“Okay, so maybe you were right,” he laughed, his mood dropping the second he noticed she was in pain. “Hey, are you okay?” He inspected, reaching a supportive hand through the small distance between them.

“Yeah, just still a little sore,” she admitted, stepping back as she forced a smile to hide her pain. He just nodded and she stepped back to lean against the wall. He was silent, but she could sense he was thinking hard about something.

“So injured on the job, huh?” He finally asked. “You mentioned something about surviving a bullet, so what exactly is your job? Bank Robber? Spy? Assassin?” He bantered. She pursed her lips into a wry smile, shaking her head with a weak laugh.

“Mm. You pay attention. I’m a Cop. Detective more specifically. It was uh…” she hadn’t fully addressed how everything had went down yet. The case wasn’t one she wanted to particularly think about, and as the memories from moments before the shooting slowly came back, she immediately pushed them down. She still wasn’t prepared to talk about it. Especially not to some stranger she met in an elevator only 15 minutes before.

“Things took a turn quickly. I took two to the vest, one in the shoulder,” she finally got out, remaining vague through her wording.

His movements stilled, and he looked over at her, a concerned yet knowing look on his face.

“Through and through?” He asked her. She nodded bleakly.

“I’ve had a similar injury,” she noticed his jaw clench with his words. “I was a cop too,” he eventually admitted, a sullen look falling upon his face.

“Was?” She questioned.

“I mean, I guess I technically still am, but it doesn’t feel like it,” he adumbrated. She noticed he was being cryptic, but despite her own curiosity she could tell it wasn’t something he was prepared to talk about. It got quiet as she weighed whether or not to question him further. She settled against it, and in desperate need to change the subject, her attention fell back upon the golf setup. She nodded her head towards it to redirect the conversation.

“So why do you have this here?” She asked him. She watched as he sucked his teeth, pulling his tongue back with a pop before answering.

“I was diagnosed with Stage 2 Pancreatic Cancer several weeks ago. Started chemotherapy not long after that, and as I mentioned before, needles are not my favorite thing, so I come up here before each treatment… calm my nerves a bit,” he admitted. Her face fell. She put two and two together, figuring that was his reason behind not feeling like a cop anymore. She quickly realized her problems, her boredom, everything she’d complained about in the past few days really didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. It also in a way reminded her of that second chance she seemed to have gotten. She was suddenly both inspired and confused about where she stood in the way she viewed her life.

“I’m sorry,” she said, almost in a whisper.

“Oh, none of that. No room for sorry or sadness up here. Only golf,” he quipped, forcing a smile and turning his attention back to the golf ball on the ground before whacking it from the roof.

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed in her pocket, bringing her attention away from him.

Where are you? Kev and I brought you some food, but your room is empty.

It was a text from Kim. After reading it, she looked up at the man. She had a strange desire to stay up there with him, to watch him hit golf balls from the roof and get to know more about him, but she knew her friends would send the entire hospital after her if she didn’t show a sign of life.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go,” she said, slipping her phone back in her pocket and pushing herself from the wall.

“Hey, what’d I say about sorry?” He smirked, resting the club on the ground and leaning against it as he stepped towards her.

“How much longer are you stuck here?” he asked, tilting his head with his words.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure. Doctors haven’t been able to give me a clear answer.”

“Well, maybe I’ll see you around. It was nice to meet you um…” he let out an awkward chuckle. “I don’t know your name,” he said sheepishly.

“Hailey. I’m Hailey,” she smirked, extending her uninjured hand for him to shake. He grabbed it, shaking it back lightly and slowly. As he peered into her eyes, an abnormal feeling overcame her. It was almost a sense of familiarity, like he wasn’t a stranger she had just met, but someone she’d known her whole life. It was the look in his eyes and the comfort of his touch, and it was a feeling that took her by surprise. Nonetheless, the feeling was gone as quickly as it came, and they pulled apart as he parted his lips to speak.

“Nice to meet you, Hailey,” he said, his free hand finding way to his pocket. Her phone buzzed again, another text from Kim, and she knew she had to get back to her room before they sent the entirety of Chicago searching for her. She gave him one last smile before turning towards the elevators. As she settled in and pressed the button for her floor, she looked up to see him watching her every movement. She quickly looked down at her feet with this realization, remembering how she was dressed and suddenly regretting leaving her room like that. She was grateful when he finally turned, directing his attention back to the golf balls on the ground.

“Wait,” she said, throwing her free hand up to the elevator doors as they began to close. He twisted around, his eyes carrying a gentle, curious look.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” she called out.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped himself, his eyes looking up and dropping quickly as if he’d forgotten his name and was waiting for it to fall from the sky.

“Just remember me as the stranger from the elevator,” he finally said slyly.

She frowned, but he just returned her look with taut smirk. When it was clear that was all he was going to offer, she backed up into the elevator, an annoyed and skeptical smile on her face as she allowed the doors to fall shut.

She acted on autopilot for the rest of the afternoon, distracted by the encounter with the stranger. She wasn’t an at first sight kind of person. Love, admiration, attraction, feelings, they weren’t things she typically felt from the jump. It took time and trust for her to develop those things that some could develop in a first encounter. Yet, with this guy, something was different. From the ride down to the elevator, to dinner in her room with her friends, to the moment her head touched the uncomfortable hospital pillow that night, the stranger and some unexplainable feeling about him lingered in her mind like a bad hangover. He was aloof and smug, but something about that combination left her wanting more. More about his story, about his quirks, about everything that made him seem so interesting.

It took her a while to find sleep, as it had every night prior that she had spent in that hospital, but that night it was for another reason. It wasn’t just the discomfort of the bed or the unfamiliarity of the room that left her restless. It was the image of the stranger’s well-pleased grin in her mind, his blue-green eyes sparkling at her, and her own curiosity keeping her up late into the night. Every part of her hoped that she would see him again. She couldn’t quite explain it, but the timing of it all made her think she was meant to meet him for some undiscovered reason. That gave her just enough hope that their encounter wasn’t just a one time thing. She had a strong feeling she was going to see him again.

#upstead #jay x hailey #hailey x jay #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #upstead fic #justmypartner fics #collection of Em’s fics

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sonnet009 · 4 years ago

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Wilder: Amir’s Story (Route Summary)

PROLOGUE:

MC decides to flee Ziya alone. A rotund wine merchant named Barlow offers her a timely rescue, smuggling her out in one of the wagons in his caravan. On their journey across the Shining Sands MC learns that Barlow is a wealthy and ambitious man who can afford not only a team of djinn guards but even a pleasure slave. It is this pleasure slave who warns MC that Barlow intends to ransom her back to Ziya and urges her to leave the caravan. Though MC suspects the surly Jamal just wants to no longer share his wagon, she takes his advice and flees from Barlow under cover of darkness.

CHAPTER I:

A sandstorm drives MC up into the Western Hills. There she is captured by a tribe of wild djinn and presented to the tribe's chief, Amir, who takes great interest in her and decides, instead of killing her, to keep her as some sort of prisoner. MC cannot understand the djinn tongue and Amir cannot speak hers, and so their interactions are fraught with misunderstandings, frustration, and mistrust.

As her time with the tribe passes MC is treated with contempt by most of them, attempts an unsuccessful escape, and continues to butt heads with Amir – an arrogant man-child with no manners as far as she can tell. She also meets Hani – an older ex-slave who is also an outcast among the tribe. Hani speaks both the human and djinn tongue and, being a kind woman, starts translating for MC and Amir. As MC and Amir start trying by themselves to learn parts of each other's language, their relationship begins to slowly improve.

Every night after dinner Amir will tell animated, theatrical tales for the enjoyment of his tribe, while Hani translates them for MC. Hani also teaches her things about the tribe, such as the fact that Amir went from orphan to the youngest and strongest rahki (chief) in the Hills, and how MC should watch out for Amir's closest friend, the hateful and vicious Kherga.

CHAPTER II:

Amir decrees that MC is no longer a captive but a guest of the tribe, allowing her freedom to move about the camp. This is an unpopular decision among his people, especially with Kherga. As the days and weeks pass, MC spends time with many of the tribe, pitching in with chores, and finds that not only is she growing stronger and hardier but that some of the tribe members seem to be warming to her – and she to them.

One morning a hunting party, led by Kherga, is about to head out. Amir impulsively invites MC to join, to Kherga's disgust. MC fails rather spectacularly at hunting a wild boar and cuts her legs on an undergrowth of thorns – the hunters find this uproariously funny. Amir takes MC to a nearby river where she can wash her injury while he leaps into the water and splashes around like a child. He tries to coax her in as well and is dismayed to learn that she cannot swim. In turn, MC learns that Amir is picking up the human tongue much quicker than she the djinn tongue. He acts the immature fool, but he is very intelligent and an enthusiastic learner.

After bonding, the two return to camp. The atmosphere turns dark. Kherga holds court and has been whipping the tribe into an angry frenzy. MC doesn't need to speak the language to know that her continued presence here is the main cause of contention. Kherga challenges Amir's leadership and the two fight. But when some of the djinn grab MC in the chaos, Amir immediately abandons the challenge to force them to release her. As the tribe surrounds the two of them it is clear that Amir has lost his place as chief. He throws MC over his shoulder and runs, pursued by his former brothers and sisters, until he reaches the mountains known as the Knives – a place where the tribe will not follow.

CHAPTER III:

As soon as they are clear of the tribe Amir just stops and sits on the ground, shattered by disbelief and grief. MC believes the coup to be her fault but Amir is quietly firm that it is his. They have nowhere to go but forward, so they journey on. Amir is despondent and distracted; entirely unlike the djinn that MC had been getting to know.

Suddenly Amir goes entirely still, alert in a way he hasn't been for days now. He has sensed Hamza and his men approaching from behind. A battle ensues in which Amir brutally takes down any man who dares attack him – and MC does her own share of violence, shocking herself. But when Hamza is at his mercy Amir refuses to kill a helpless foe and instead takes MC's hand and starts running. Newly alive and euphoric from battle Amir pulls MC into a kiss – then, once the adrenaline fades, collapses from his wounds.

MC and Amir shelter in a cave while she tends to his injuries. He requests more lessons in the human tongue while he recovers and in return she asks for more traditional djinn stories. They are soon on the move again and make it to the other side of the Knives. As they continue on their journey they share more stories and lessons – and learn that there is a particular insult that both their cultures share. “Ki bo ki,” Amir teaches MC. “Fuck yourself,” she teaches him in turn.

CHAPTER IV:

Amir follows MC even past the Knives, into the farmland on the other side. He has nowhere else to go and neither seem to want to part just yet. He is also as excited as a child to see so many new sights. The two run into a blind woman on the road and help lift her cart out of a ditch. In thanks, she offers them lunch.

Once they reach the lady's farm she offers them both some of her produce and some clothes for Amir – at MC's request. Amir hates the shirt and he doubly hates the trousers, but MC insists that he keep them on while they are in human lands.

On the road again it isn't too long before they are waylaid by bandits who demand all their money, possessions, and Amir himself. Amir doesn't understand what is happening until MC explains the situation to him, after which he confidently tells the bandits to fuck themselves. After easily defeating the men, Amir and MC go through their ill-gotten belongings and find some broken slave bands. Amir agrees to wear them in order to fool any humans they may meet in the town ahead, but both he and MC feel disgusted by the performance.

CHAPTER V:

Now in the port town of Dijarah, Amir is amazed by the place but simply does not blend in. A man who takes offence to Amir spits at his feet, shocking the former rahki who has never been so affronted or so lost. He and MC stop at an inn for dinner, sharing a table despite the taboo, and learn that they have come to town on the right night – the Fish Festival is tonight.

Neither MC or Amir have ever attended a festival and let their excitement and curiosity overpower their common sense. When night falls they walk the now colourful streets, enjoying the food stalls, the games, and... the alcohol. Another first. They sit together at the water's edge and share another kiss, this one not fuelled by adrenaline but their shared sorrow at the thought of parting. MC shares the whole story of her escape from Ziya and journey to Umar. Amir vows to see MC safely onto a ship but then he must return home to the Hills, to seek justice and redemption with his tribe.

The fall asleep there by the water and wake wrapped around each other and facing the bemusement of the dock worker who finds them. MC finds a ship heading for Umar but is reluctant to book passage and say goodbye to Amir right then and there. Amir feels the same, casually suggesting breakfast in an attempt to distract her. But things are soon thrown into chaos as Hamza appears, spotting them and giving chase. Amir helps MC hide in a crate being loaded onto the ship from before, gives her knuckles a kiss, then leads Hamza away through the crowd. As the crate is loaded onto the ship, MC waits in the dark. A stowaway. Alone.

CHAPTER VI:

MC hides in the cargo hold, the ship having left port. She is alone, hopelessly worried about Amir, and heartbroken to know that she will never see him again. Then he pops out of the crate next to hers exclaiming, “MC!” and clapping his hand over her mouth to muffle her startled scream. Turns out he lost Hamza and doubled back to join her, unable to leave things as they were. Their days as stowaways begin. They pass time with stories and Amir finally tells MC about the expectation his tribe had for him to take a mate, and how it was part fascination and part rebellion that led him to claim MC as his when she was brought before him.

The confinement soon takes its toll on Amir who hates being unable to see the sky. MC makes him promise to stay hidden but he soon breaks it, discovered by sailors who take him before the ship's captain. MC follows in a panic and offers all the money she has – but the captain is surprisingly friendly, saying Amir has told him of her plight and that he is happy to give them passage to freedom in Umar. He gives them a cabin and asks in return only that MC remembers him and mentions him to all of her highborn friends and family as the gracious captain that saved her life.

One night there is a terrible storm. MC finds Amir up on deck, naked, arms outstretched, face raised to the rain. As the thunder and lightning crack around them, MC and Amir embrace passionately. They spend the night together in their cabin, primal desperation eventually turning to gentle intimacy, and fall asleep as close as two people can be.

CHAPTER VII:

Upon arrival in Umar the captain directs MC and Amir to a safe place to stay called Minerva's. It soon becomes apparent that Minerva's is a pleasure house. They stay the night anyway, though Amir barricades their door with heavy furniture just to be safe from everyone's... rapt attention. In the morning a free djinn called Royo appears to escort them to her employer, the merchant-turned-lord Yasir. It seems the good captain tried to sell them out but, fortunately for them, Yasir has no interest in cooperating with Ziya.

At Yasir's estate there is one more surprise waiting – Uncle Makram. He and MC share a tearful reunion and he vows that he will keep her safe from now on. MC also makes him promise to ensure Amir is returned safely to his homeland. Bemused, Makram agrees. The arrival of a righteous and unstoppable Hamza breaks the peace of Yasir's estate. He demands that MC be turned over to his custody immediately.

Makram is the one to stand up to Hamza. He calls in the Heartseer who long ago proclaimed MC guilty of murder and has him confess to lying about what he saw – though he will answer none of Hamza's questions as to why. Makram, Hamza and Yasir go to another room and, when they return, Hamza seems cowed and ground under Makram's heel. Though still clearly disturbed, he apologises to MC and declares her innocent.

CHAPTER VIII:

MC, Amir, Makram, and Hamza are journeying back to Ziya together. They are currently passing through the Shining Sands in a carriage manned by a driver generously gifted by Yasir. When they pass close by to the Hills, the carriage stops to allow Amir to disembark.

Amir and MC stand in the starlight, sand under their feet, and know that this time they must say goodbye. MC asks for one last story and Amir tells her the tale of two legendary djinn lovers and the reysoko (blood bond) they shared by marking each other's flesh and drinking each other's blood, making them inseparable by even death. Unable to embrace under the scrutiny of the others MC and Amir must then simply say farewell and part ways. Amir heads off, up towards the Hills. MC returns to the carriage.

As the journey to Ziya continues through the night, MC suddenly realises that Hamza is no longer sitting out beside the driver. She forces Makram to admit what he, Yasir and Hamza discussed in that private room back in Umar – a plan to blame the shah's murder on a djinn plot, claiming that Ran was an assassin from Amir's tribe. As they speak, Hamza has met with a squad of his best men and they are following Amir's tracks to lead them to his people. MC slaps her uncle and leaps from the carriage, unhitching a horse and riding as fast as she can back towards the Hills to warn Amir and the tribe.

CHAPTER IX:

But by the time MC makes it to the camp there are already signs of a razing. Some djinn lie dead. Hani is leading many of the survivors in an attempt to avoid the soldiers by moving about the forest – as she knows the human tongue she alone is able to eavesdrop on their plans and work around them. MC leads a squad of Hamza's men away from them and into the undergrowth of thorns that she once blundered into, back when she briefly lived here.

She finds Hamza and Kherga, surrounded by dead djinn and humans alike, circling each other and both badly wounded. Hamza lands the killing blow on Kherga just as Amir comes running onto the scene, howling in grief and fury. Amir faces Hamza and they fight once more. This time, when Hamza is at his mercy, Amir does not hesitate to kill him.

When the last of the soldiers limp away in defeat, the tribe comes back together. Silently they build a giant pyre and burn their dead upon it. Amir watches Kherga's body burn, clasping MC's hand tightly in his. They stand there until the fire burns out and Amir's brothers' and sisters' souls have flown to the sky.

BITTER END:

The tribe reinstate Amir as their chief. After the ceremony Amir escorts MC to the edge of the Hills. Though she will miss him, she simply cannot leave behind civilisation. Whether she will stay in Ziya or begin a new life in some other city, she is not sure. But she has a choice, which is more than she has ever had before.

They share one final embrace, then MC turns and walks away. She feels Amir's eyes on her back until he is so far away that he is no longer even a blur on the horizon.

SWEET END:

With newfound respect and gratitude for Hani, and with Amir's blessing, the tribe choose her as their new chief. After the ceremony Amir escorts MC to the edge of the Hills to say a final farewell. MC makes it ten steps before turning and running back to Amir. She asks if she can stay with him. He is kissing her before she finishes the question.

Free from their old responsibilities, MC and Amir find a place to settle in the Hills just for themselves. Amir is teaching her to swim. Exhausted from the lessons (and perhaps more than that) they lie on the bank, lazily playing with each other's hair. Just like the legendary lovers that Amir once told her about, he marks MC's shoulder with a bite. She does the same to him, and their bond is forever sealed.

#Wilder #Amir #Route Summary

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years ago

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for the ask thing, i’ve been wanting to ask this forever… how do you work on your sex appeal and seduction? i’m trying to have confidence and just garner attention but i feel like absolutely no one looks at me or feels like i’m attractive over the little sister or really good friend kind of “cute”. i want to be hot man. i want to lowkey be objectified as terrible as that is, it’s never happened before. idk if it’s this stupid ass virgo venus placement. or the fact i’m plus side and dark skin. but i’m sick and tired man. drop some wisdom cause i’m ready for people to start wanting to fuck me fr. i want SIMPS.

i appreciate that you want to ask me this and i'd love to give you a good answer but the only real response i could have for you is that im just a person people like being around and that's why people find me sexy.

im not super conventionally attractive since im plus sized also and im not under any delusion about how people percieve me but people want me cause im funny and intelligent. in that sense i think i get perceived as very confident but really im just self-aware and ive learned how to charm people to some capacity.

i wish i had more helpful advice but genuinely im really so far removed from worrying about my appearance that i dont think i can help you in any way, shape, or form.

#return to sender #i hope i dont sound egotistical but genuinely like. people want me cause i make them laugh lmao #i used to be really hyper aware that people didnt find me attractive #but i just stopped giving a shit #because really the only people who judge me like that are shitty cishet men #and i dont rlly have anything to prove to them #its really not that im cofident #i just know my strengths which is that im funny and smart and can hold convo and talk to people #i really do not worry about my appearance more than i have to

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mari-beau · 3 years ago

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GIVE ME A REASON: PART FIVE -A Rogue One fanfic

I honestly don’t know this was going to take the detour it did, but hey, that’s fine. Anyway, Jyn is very confused about her attachment to Cassian, and his own messy feelings.

Also on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Five

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Implied Bi!Cassian; References to Naked Times in the Shower; Characters being hot messes and confused about Feelings

Words: 3,226

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

The energy level in the large mess hall was an incongruous mix of highs and lows. Quite a number of people were congregated at various tables, but it wasn’t at capacity. Some groups were chattering away, with a happiness and lightness Jyn honestly couldn’t recall witnessing in anyone in a long, long time, on any planet or moon. But there were other groups, and individuals, that were quiet, lethargic, mostly just nursing cups of restorative drinks and pushing bland food around their plates. Hungover.

Jyn supposed that made sense. Either way, no one was really in a down mood. They were either still excited about the Great Victory, or suffering the consequences from being too excited about it the previous night.

Why did she feel like Cassian and herself were the mopiest pair in the entire mess hall? Yes, it was really gratifying to know that their suicide mission hadn’t been entirely in vain. They had more than succeeded, the plans had been transmitted to the rebels, and the rebels had used them to destroy the Death Star. But still… The feeling of loss weighed heavily on Jyn. And she sensed it was yet another burden laid on Cassian’s shoulders. In a vulnerable, pained moment, he’d told her that maybe it would’ve been better if she’d left him on Scarif when they’d miraculously been spared from the blastwave. And perhaps near the end there (what should’ve been the end), he’d embraced the release from his conscience as hard as he’d embraced her.

She understood. She’d felt the peace there on that beach, as well.

The thing was, she still felt it, with him. Even when filled with other confusing emotions, some of which he was the cause of, she still felt… content… even happy? Was this what happy felt like?

Well, no, maybe not this, not still half-mourning a father she’d lost decades ago but then lost again, mourning the loss of the friends she’d made in just a matter of a day but who had been truer than any others in her life, coming to terms with the guilt of leading so many on a suicide mission, which she then survived.

And Cassian had survived.

“I’ll get the food,” Jyn said after they’d found a table tucked in a corner and Cassian claimed the seat that allowed him to put his back to the wall. (Of course). Jyn would’ve chosen it herself, but she didn’t protest that she would be forced to sit with her back to the entire mess hall. He was rubbing at his leg. The memory of the surgical scars running down his hip and thigh, barely a week old, a fresh pink against olive skin, popped abruptly into her mind. She shoved them aside. “Is there anything specific you want?”

“No.” He was smiling even as he shook his head. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m not picky.”

“Me, neither.” Force, sometimes they were so much the same, their lives filled with the same sort of deprivation, that it hurt. It hurt to think of the little boy Cassian had been, not having a favorite food, because having food at all was something to be grateful for. Something Jyn had known herself, still knew, and would never unlearn her associated habits of eating too much (if given the opportunity) and too fast.

“I’ll be right back,” she said and headed towards the serving line.

A couple people stared as she added more than two helpings of everything to her tray, but she thought it was more out of shock over the disproportionate amount of food to her size than anger that she was maybe taking more than her share. By the time she’d collected enough to feed an entire unit of Wookies and headed back to Cassian, two humans in non-uniforms (which wasn’t uncommon for the rebels) had sat down at the table.

They were the type of people who took up more space than they needed. An amateurish attempt at intimidating others through establishing dominance. Jyn had learned to be more wary of those who drew no attention, who lurked in the shadows, who had unassuming appearances disguising a lethality the brazen could never hope to possess.

So it was really just instinct that had her assessing gaze passing over the two trying-too-hard-to-have-swagger rebels to the slight man sitting quietly in the corner. He was a killer, undeniably. But not by choice. And Jyn knew something she thought most didn’t remotely suspect; Cassian Andor was soft deep down inside. And every terrible thing he’d done tortured him. Which made him even more dangerous, especially to Jyn, who she feared may be the only one to have ever seen his vulnerability, his humanity. To everyone else, he was just some Rebel super-spy-assassin, a good little soldier.

He’d locked eyes with her, but neither of his companions had seemed to notice, instead going on about some miraculous feats of badassery during some mission or other.

“You’re in my seat,” Jyn said, interrupting the bigger of the pair mid-sentence.

The man who was easily twice her size froze, puffing himself up when he looked at her, not that he needed to with that bulk of muscle, but his first instinct was obviously to meet her firm tone with aggression. She knew the response of those who’d survived on the streets well. And even if this was no seedy back alley or dive, this was her territory. And she wasn’t going to be the one to back down.

“Am I?” Big man said.

Before Jyn could respond, Cassian’s quiet voice cut in.

“You are.”

The big man looked at the wounded captain and his entire demeanor changed. Apparently, the soldier knew Cassian for the dangerous creature he was.

After a brief moment in which the expression on Cassian’s face gave nothing away, Big Man’s attention returned to Jyn.

“Uh, sorry,” he said, vacating the chair. Setting the heavily-laden tray down, Jyn plopped into the spot opposite Casian as the big guy lumbered off to find another chair, seemingly to rejoin them. Ugh.

Jyn slid the tray across the table in front of Cassian, then dragged her chair to sit directly beside him. There was no way to lift any of the dishes off the tray without losing some of the impressive pile of food. They could share.

She reached across Cassian and grabbed some sort of bread roll and- oh, force, he smelled good, like the cleanser from the shower and freshly washed skin that was silky smooth except for the scars and- she shoved the roll in her mouth before she did something embarrassing like hop onto his lap and bury her face in his neck.

The very large rebel’s companion had remained at the table, and was staring. Yes, at Jyn, but also at Cassian, at the pair of them, at the pile of food she’d torn into but Casian was contemplating eating with an actual utensil like some sort of civilized person. And the man’s gaze dropped, but Jyn knew it wasn’t to assess her attributes, none were visible beneath the loose-fitting clothes she was wearing, Cassian’s clothes. Oh. Right.

“You must be Jyn Erso,” he said and held out a hand, which was surprisingly clean, so Jyn shoved the last bite of roll into her mouth and shook it. Firm but not too firm, and his dark brown eyes were surprisingly soft as they met her gaze, a little guarded and very curious. This one was obviously the more intelligent of the pair.

“That I am,” she said after swallowing the large piece of bread that threatened to lodge in her throat. “And you are…?”

“Oh,” he laughed self-consciously. He had a nice, easy going smile. “Sorry. Yeah. I’m Tarrek Zin.” His large friend returned with a chair. “And this is Utto.”

The giant known as Utto nodded, grunted in response, before sitting down in the chair that was obviously ill-equipped to handle his bulk. A man of even less words than the spy.

“And you’re… friends of Cassian?” she asked, trying not to appear too interested. Who were these people? Cassian didn’t have friends. Not that she’d known him all that long, but she was pretty certain the man was a resolute loner. Aside from K-2SO, who was lost to him now.

“Yes,” Tarrek said at the same time Cassian said, “No.”

She withheld her laughter because Tarrek Zin seemed genuinely a little hurt by the terse captain’s response.

“We’ve worked together before,” Cassian gave as further explanation. “They’re…”

“Freelance,” Tarrek said.

Cassian gave a little snort of laughter. “That’s one way to put it.” He took a larger bite of the mystery protein.

“Oh, what does that mean?” Now, Jyn was intrigued. They were an odd sort to find on a military base, even amongst the ragtag collection of rebels that formed the Alliance. They were both human, Jyn thought, although there could be a bit of something else in the big man, who was surprisingly not unattractive for a bruiser type, with thick brown hair and a symmetrical face with a square jaw and only a small crescent scar on one cheek. The smaller man was by no means small, taller than Cassian, well built with flawless brown skin and a friendly, appealing face with just a hint of scruff neatly trimmed into a goatee. And a charmer’s grin, which he turned on Jyn.

“We find things.”

Again, that ironic little half-laugh from Cassian, who finally looked up from the pile of food.

“They steal things,” he said, pointing his fork at them. “Don’t let Tarrek try to pretty it up. They’re nothing more than thieves.”

“So’s your girl, from what I hear,” Tarrek said. “Didn’t you all find her in Wobani, serving time for forgery and assault amongst many other crimes?”

“She’s not my girl,” Cassian said, not denying her criminal record. And Jyn would be lying if she claimed the denial that she was his girl didn’t hurt a little. Even though it shouldn’t. She wasn’t a possession. And neither was Cassian, so she could stop feeling possessive of him, as well, really-

“Then you’re a free agent?” Tarrek flashed that charming grin of his again, with an edge of mischievousness. And a bit of something else in his eyes as he lookd at Cassian. “Because with the Empire scrambling after the destruction of their favorite new toy, no one’s going to notice if some stray things get found. We could use your skills on at least a dozen different jobs I can think of…” Tarrek shot a brief glance to Jyn before returning his attention to Cassian. “And Not Your Girl for that matter.”

“I think I’ve made it very clear I will not be going on any jobs with you,” Cassian said. “Even if the Alliance thought we’d need someone with your skillset again for some reason, I’d find someone else.”

Oh, wow. That seemed a little harsh, even from the jaded captain. The hurt on Tarrek’s face was blatant, and he looked away. Jyn couldn’t help but think there was some sort of complicated history at play.

“May I…?” Utto asked, indicating the crispy poultry leg sitting near the edge of the tray, the big man oblivious to the undercurrents of the conversation.

“Uh… be my guest,” Jyn said and large, burly fingers snatched it right up. Unsurprisingly, the whole drumstick fit in the man’s mouth. He ate even faster than Jyn, chewing a bit then pulling the bare bone out, picked absolutely clean in less time than it took Cassian to cut another bite off the brick of vegetable-thing or whatever it was. Food. That’s all Jyn needed to know.

“Well, we better get going if we want to get a good seat at the ceremony, seeing as we’re not guests of honor,” Tarrek said, seeming to have recovered from the hurt feelings enough to tease. Cassian made a displeased noise but said nothing as Tarrek got to his feet and locked eyes with the rebel captain. Some sort of weird exchange passed between them, that seemed almost- “The offer always stands if you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” Cassian said, then went back to studiously eating.

Tarrek rolled his eyes but then gave Jyn a broad grin, leaning over to whisper loudly, “You think about it, too, Jyn Erso. Maybe you can convince the captain here not to throw his life away for the rebellion.”

Jyn just gave him a nod, disconcerted about the man’s extremely accurate knowledge of Cassian. Or maybe his unwavering loyalty was just that obvious.

“Let’s get out of here,” Tarrek said to his large companion, who appeared about Wookie-size when he stood up, only beefier.

Utto lingered a moment as his friend walked away, and Cassian frowned at him, that furrow forming between his brows. Jyn’s curiosity was also piqued as the moment stretched out awkwardly long, Utto’s fierce blue-grey gaze scouring Cassian’s face.

Cassian broke first, dropping his fork onto the tray with a clatter and sighing loudly.

“You have something you want to say, Utto?” he asked.

“You hurt Tarrek,” he said. “Don’t change your mind about joining us. Unless you mean it.”

“Understood,” Cassian said. “Is that all?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

Utto glanced at Jyn, then gave Cassian another assessing look before grunting and shaking his head, then stalked off after his partner.

Cassian returned his attention to the food in front of him, like nothing had happened at all.

“What was that?” Jyn asked, her mind racing, trying to put everything she’d just witnessed into some sort of context.

“Nothing,” Cassian said. “Just two of many I’ve pissed off.”

“But they’re angry because they want you.” Jyn was pretty sure about what she’d just witnessed, albeit confusing.

“The Alliance used them to break into an Imperial facility. We were after intelligence stored there. Tarrek and Utto made out like the bandits they are by stealing the tech stored there and selling it on the black market. It was their most lucrative job ever. They still pick up odd smuggling tasks for the rebellion, but they want me to help them with more heist like that again.”

His face was closed off, but Jyn needed to know if she was right, needed for Cassian to continue to let her in, needed his trust and confidence.

“I get that,” she said, “but they want you… like physically. At least, Tarrek does.”

Cassian met her gaze, slowly closed his eyes, sighed and shook his head.

“I never should’ve kissed him.”

“Oh.” Well, that explained both the heat and the chill in Tarrek’s gaze when he looked at Cassian. Apparently, it hadn’t been just one-sided. And maybe she’d been reading Cassian’s looks, the way he touched her, all wrong. Maybe the intimacy they’d shared in the shower, naked but not uncomfortable, washing one another with tender caresses, had only held sexual undertones on her side. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to her in the same way she was to him. Maybe he- “You er… kiss males?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “When it’s necessary to complete a mission.” He licked his lips. “Sometimes just because I want to.”

Jyn stared at the pile of green puree of what she hoped was a vegetable of some sort, trying to swallow down the stupid feelings clashing inside of her; jealousy and possessiveness, hurt, and even a little bit of titillation contemplating Cassian’s sexual history.

Long fingers skimmed the back of her hand and curled around hers, squeezing gently until she met those rich, dark eyes of his.

“Sometimes I kiss females, too.” He held her gaze so she resisted the urge to stare at his mouth.

“When it’s necessary to complete a mission?”

“And just because I want to.”

Did he want to? Jyn felt like he did, thought everything in the way he looked at her indicated a deep affection and need for her. But at the same time, she knew he wouldn’t, not here in a public place, not when he hadn’t even kissed her when they were alone. Not even when they were naked, standing under the spray of water, his hands buried in her hair, rinsing out the cleanser, her hands wrapped around his waist, helping to support his weight, her skin prickling with the closeness of his body, the caress of his fingers on her scalp, the feeling of his-

“We should get moving,” he said, releasing her hand to push his chair back and stand, looking only a little unsteady on his feet. “We need to find you some clothes that fit.”

“Why?” Jyn said, standing as well and brushing her hand over the front of the loose shirt. At least Cassian wasn’t an extremely large man, or else his clothes would fall right off her. As it was, she’d had to roll up the sleeves of his shirt and tuck as much as possible into the fatigues that she’d belted to cinch in at the waist, which would’ve been entirely hopeless if he wasn’t a lean man. She’d also had to roll up the hems to her ankles. She had no other option than the infirmary shoes. Okay, she looked ridiculous. But she didn’t care. The clothes smelled like Cassian and made her feel perpetually wrapped up in him.

“It’s not exactly fit for being presented to a princess.”

Cassian reached to pick up the tray, which Jyn felt a little bit of guilt for not having completely cleaned of its contents and wasting food, but there had been unforeseen interruptions. She grabbed it before he could, doubting his ability to walk and carry a laden tray a few days after major surgeries and with bones still healing. But had he said,

“Princess?! What princess?”

“Princess Leia will be hosting the ceremony.”

“Oh.” Jyn headed across the mess hall to bus the remains of their meal, perhaps moving a little too quickly for her wounded companion, a sort of panicky nervousness fluttering in her stomach as their potentially being the center of attention approached. It would be brief if they were, she tried to tell herself. The last time she’d been the center of the Alliance’s attention hadn’t gone well. Had, in point of fact, ended in a rogue suicide mission.

“You’ll be fine. She’s Bail Organa’s daughter. Sensible woman. Fierce.”

Jyn shoved the tray into the reclamation unit a little harder than necessary. “And how do you know her?”

Cassian laughed, light and genuine.

“I don’t know her, not personally.” His hand went to her shoulder, seemingly to guide her but she knew the request inherent in it and snaked her arm around his waist to let him lean a little of his weight on her. “Let’s see if we can track down your missing clothes.”

Jyn didn’t care if they couldn’t. Let the princess see her in Cassian’s clothes, let everyone think they were together. Because whether or not he kissed her, whether or not it was romantic, Cassian Andor was hers. Even if he sent her away and she never saw him again while she lived, he would always be hers.

Force, she needed to get a handle on this possessiveness. Because it owned her. He owned her.

His palm came to rest on the back of her neck as they left the mess and headed towards the storage and supply wing of the base. His thumb stroked along her nape and she leaned into him, relaxed as a Savarian cat being petted.

Dank farrik, did she ever belong to him.

#fic: give me a reason #Rogue One #fanfiction #rebelcaptain #Cassian x Jyn #Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso #my fic

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friggsdc · 4 years ago

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Title: little delinquent pt iv

part iii | part iv

Warnings: Female!reader (bat!sis), mostly plot with family fluff, AU, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4600~

Synop: It had Bruce and Dick sharing a look for a moment before the latter spoke up, “It’s not like I’m against continuing to expand the family, but…” he eyed the child you held nervously, “please don’t start bringing home every child you find…” he tilted his head, “he’s bad enough.” Bruce settled a light glare at his first son (that definitely wasn’t what Bruce was thinking), though Dick was stilled by the way your eyes narrowed at him instead.

“His name is Terrence,” that was all you said, brushing past as they were suddenly on guard at the inherited Wayne-scowl on your face.

---

A/N: ee;;;; enjoy me not knowing what this plot is, idk tbh, but it’s fun to write. It’s more plot than fluff, which wasn’t what i meant to write sighs. I’ll probably write companion pieces to this that’s zero plot all fluff. The plot wasn’t meant to be so deep, but I mean, uhm… enjoy papa Bruce and mama Alfred~

---

[bigR] Dad’s upset.

[bigR] He’s talking less than usual, not even grunts.

[bigR] I think he’s ignoring me?

[you] crap

[bigR] Worse, there’s no news.

No news? True, you hadn’t seen the info feeds light up, the networks had been offline all day, but nothing from Tim’s side? If you didn’t hate Luthor before, well…

[you] this is giving me a headache ::dizzy_emoji::

[bigR] No kidding, I think he’s figuring a few things out.

[bigR] Patrol with B, everything’s unlocked, bb @ late.

[you] is typing…

“You sure it’s okay?”

The taller male gave quite the toothy grin, a large hand coming up to pull the awkwardly fitted shirt collar back to center, admiring your new outfit. “You can just bring it back later, besides, I think it’s cuter this way.” After a few hours and an incredibly long phone call between Jason, Tim and yourself, the three of you combined were able to get the suit to come off.

Tim said he still had a lot to go over, but that the laptop was actually incredibly useful. Much of what Tim had been talking (and geeking) about had been lost on Jason and you, too focused on Terry and wrangling the alien suit off.

Jason said he’d be jealous of the strange futuristic-like material if it weren’t for the second skin-like fit, happily poking fun at Nightwing’s taste in suits.

Most of the work was done on Tim’s side since he apparently already had the ability to take control of the suit. It was something you were rather… anxious about, but unlike the manor, Jason’s place had the advantage of no Bruce and no cameras.

So now you sat in the same pair of pants you’d come over in, the only pair of flip-flops he had. They were far too large for you, but your toes would have to hang on till home, and a large t-shirt that fit well enough.

“Muscle up, Buttercup” was written on the front, Superman’s flexed arm between the words.

“Your taste in clothes is…”

“Cheap. Like second-hand cheap.”

“But… why…”

“To spite Bruce? I pay more for job-related injuries than money I actually have, it’s been tempting me to go back to crime, honestly.”

“…you sure that’s not to spite Bruce as well?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, an impish grin on his face as he lightly ruffled the top of your hair, causing you to childishly swat his hand away, “isn’t that what everyone else does? It’s fun, you should try it sometime.”

“Uh-huh…” you were honestly too much of a—

“Daddy’s girl,” he snorted lightly, unimpressed.

Before slipping one of Jason’s unused backpacks on, you stuffed the batsuit in the bottom, and the jacket you arrived in on top. Turning just in time to see him picking up Terrence’s sleeping form with incredible gentleness, you cooed lightly.

“You know, you’re not bad at that,” he looked at you, frowning, ears flushing before his attention went back to the bundle in his arms.

“Not even…” instead of moving to take the child from him, you opted to stand still and just watch the interaction instead, as if a point were being made.

Big boy looked like he was terrified of breaking the child in his arms, like an heirloom British teacup, “You look cute like that, a giant teddy bear and a tiny uh... new bat?” Walking over, he turned his eyes to the side, not a single trace of anger towards the situation in his voice anymore, “don’t get used to it,” he muttered, unsure of himself. “But you could get used to it,” you smiled, taking the giant marshmallow from him, “he’ll be around from now on, you know. You’ll have uncle duties~” Your teasing only increased his rising timidness, “right…”

“Well,” he began, heading to the door once you had everything, “I’m already late for patrol, let’s get you home.”

Alfred had greeted you at the door and mentioned putting on some tea, and you gladly accepted, though not before you went up and changed. With the promise to be back downstairs in a few minutes, he took Terrence from you to ready him for bed. Adorable child was actually quite active, having tired himself out at Jason’s temporary housing.

Quickly, you’d headed to Tim’s room to empty the contents of your bag in his faraday cage, hoping that it was secure enough being in his room. Once you’d locked the safe’s door, you headed out of his room and down the hall to your own. Sorry Jay, but the shoes were uncomfortable, and the shirt kept trying to strangle you more than the shirt of a giant should. Pajamas sounded wonderful right now.

The now empty backpack was tossed to the side near where Duke had left the your clothes from earlier in the day, and a few immediate items for Terrence. You figured everything else was probably in the nursery now, hoping it was all waiting for you in the next few days. The awkward clothes you’d worn over the suit had been tossed on your day clothes, and then Jason’s shirt and shoes were dropped on top.

The shower was quick, and having changed into a fresh pair of pajamas, you suddenly felt sluggish, your shoulders now heavy with tightness. Come to think of it, your thighs also felt rather wobbly, like jelly… but the only strenuous activity you can remember doing in all honesty was… base jumping… was it the wings? It’s all you could honestly come up with. Maybe you weren’t used to such a thing yet, and as you rubbed your shoulders, you headed back downstairs to the sitting room. “Nn…”

“Sore?”

It was still too early for anyone scary to be home right now, so…

You nodded, collapsing on the small sitting couch, Alfred going to stand from his seat to fix you a cup of tea from the tray on the table. “I did a dumb thing today. I’m not certain if I regret it or not.” He handed you the tea plate and cup before returning to his original position on a rather regal looking chair, “I’ve already put the Little Master to bed for the evening. The Young Masters went to bed awhile ago, though I suspect, they are not, actually sleeping.” He gave an amused hum at the thought of Damian and Jon and what they were totally not doing.

He definitely hadn’t noticed when they’d snuck out earlier. Nope, not at all.

It was a long day filled with heightened emotions, anxiety, stress, confusion, and at the end of it, you were just so tired, and Alfred had always been your confidant next to Tim, and—

You tried to keep quiet as you spoke.

“I jumped out of a really tall building. Like… ninety feet up? I’m not certain, I was watching my life flash before my eyes.” He sighed and frowned into his own tea, “Master Bruce has already left for the night, Master Tim is accompanying him, as the boys are… supposed to be here for a night off. I really had hoped you’d grown up to be more intelligent and not as reckless as your brothers.” Or your father, Alfred mused, sipping at his tea, pinky out, the proper macaroni gentlebutler he was.

“I mean, I panicked, I was in a batsuit, I had a lot of intel on me, like, literally stole a laptop and backed up something called Project B (whatever that meant, though you had your suspicions having met Conner), there was a ton of guards outside going from door to door… I don’t have the same muscle mass to fight like my militant brothers, I was scared of what would happen if they caught me, like dad’s reputation?, I may have been overwhelmed by the—”

“—batsuit?” Ah, you looked up from your tea with wide eyes to see him staring, uncertain if the twinkle in his eye was worry or mischief. “Yeah, that. Uhm… Please don’t tell dad,” you sat up straight, gave him your biggest crocodile tears, and were about to clasp your hands together like a beggar before he waved your antics off. “I would not, not unless it endangers your life, Young Miss, you know that. Including young Master Terrence, of course.”

“This afternoon I must ponder over, What you did was, how shall I say, not okay,” he spoke, stern.

He stood to walk over, seating himself next to you while smiling gently, “though I must admit, I am quite curious as to the story behind all of this.” You gave your own small smile as you stared at your tea, “Yeah. I still don’t know all of it yet, myself, but… it’s actually really cool…” The two of you spoke in hushed tones.

Bruce may have been your father, but much like him, you were raised by Alfred, and seeing as you usually weren’t allowed out on the field like the others, your disposition was as Alfred’s was; support. It was something your brothers and father relished in when they had any extra time over the years. You loved to spoil them, and they were readily eager for it.

It was also thanks to Alfred that you’d learned you had a unique knack for espionage.

Your brothers were raised to protect themselves and others, getting to go out nightly on risky (and deadly) vigilantism escapades. More than that, they not only got to be of use to your father, but they were able to grow up around him, their lives dedicated to the same purpose.

To say you were jealous was an understatement, often worrying Dick and Jay at times.

To say you were your father’s daughter and just as like-minded as him was also an understatement. This was something Tim and Damian understood better than your two eldest siblings.

You were determined as heck.

You graduated from avoiding Alfred’s detection to stalking your father and brothers, skills honed even further as you learned how to use their toys and listen in on their coms system. It was your father’s own fault, leaving you alone all the time.

You would never be useless again.

You would never be left behind again.

“So, your brothers are helping you, then? I am glad of that, it means I need not worry as much,” even though Jason and Damian only knew half the truth, it was Tim who knew everything you did. Duke didn’t want to know and apparently Jon’s dad had warned him not to get involved with “bat business,” and Alfred… “If… If Terry’s parents…” how were you supposed to frame this part, exactly? You ere bothered by the truth of it, so... maybe making it sound worse than it was? If that was even possible... “if they were bad people, like really bad people,” as if suddenly remembering the walls had ears, you lowered your head and voice, barely audible for him to hear, “do you think dad would let me keep him?”

The both of you knew that wasn’t the issue, Bruce had no problem with the child staying, but…

There was something about the boy that seemed to be worrying you…

“If there is one thing I take great pleasure and joy in,” Alfred beamed like the proud father he was, “it’s that at least one of you children turned out more like myself than Master Bruce.” No, honestly, he was so glad you weren’t gloom and doom like your father and siblings, “I’m certain you could tame the wildest of beasts.”

His parentage held no ground here, the two of you understood the meaning behind the words, memories of when Damian met you for the first time after arriving at the manor surfacing, “I think you’ll do just fine with the child. I have all the confidence in the world.”

Maybe you were being overly paranoid about the whole situation.

The evening was finished in comfortable companionship between the two of you, and he’d shoo you away to bed long before it was time for the boys to come home.

After cleaning up and assuring himself that at least someone in the manor went to bed properly, he busied himself with the surveillance of the manor.

He made certain you wouldn’t be caught just because of his curiosities.

Through part of the night, you’d begun doing as much research into the relationship between Luthor and CADMUS as you had time for, the past few days having been spent going over only CADMUS information. That was until you got a ping on Luthor’s name written on several specific checks, and gathering as much information available. You looked for key phrases in the news cycle over the past day’s incident, as well as dating back several months. You’d even taken the chip out of your work phone and popped it into the laptop sitting on the bed in front of you, allowing network protocols to take over.

There was only so much the news would give you, so you checked in on security feeds from the area, keywords during phone calls used to see if anyone noticed, satellite intel snapshots, everything. Anything.

The time-sensitive channels still hadn’t opened, no information from other informants was anywhere in the Societies channel logs, not even the time-delayed backlogs.

Someone else was cleaning up.

Early morning, the best time to avoid anyone in the manor who had a night life, also just in time to get breakfast as Alfred made the first batch of the day. Though mostly for himself, he’d generally make extras as you’d often join. Heading down the foyer stairs, Terry’s barely conscious form bundled in your arms, you beelined to the kitchen, the smell your guide. “Ah, good morning Young Miss! I even made some for the Little Master, just in case,” Alfred smiled down at the boy in your arms, holding up a small bowl of minced and steamed veggies.

The kitchen was large for an older-modeled mansion, constantly rebuilt with minimal changes, but still cozy and incredibly sustainable. Between the door to the foyer and the opposite wall, where the door to the dining room was, there was a large table. Several shopping lists, foodstuffs, and cookware took up a good portion, but there as still enough room for a small few people to sit comfortably at once.

You smiled, sitting down in the chair the older male pulled out for you, then pushing you in, food for the child set on the table. You situated Terry in your arms, finding a nice spot to rest his bottom without worry of him slipping off, and reached over to spoon some of his meal to him.

Strangely, he didn’t resist much, yawning in between bites as you had to scoop up what tried to spill out of his mouth, “so, how old might you say he is? I’ve been thinking about it, perhaps about a year?” you nodded as you looked up, agreeing with Alfred as he sat down, food cooking behind him in the meantime. “I think… if not that, maybe a few months younger… he can stand, and seems okay with soft solids… I think you’re right, maybe a year?” his clothing size certainly seemed to think the same, Duke having gone to extreme lengths to get a perfectly fitted wardrobe for the boy. He even included a few different larger sizes for the coming year as well.

“Hm…” Alfred leaned on his crossed arms, rested on the table as he eyed the boy, “I suppose we could begin early development lessons with him, signing especially, but I think he can do more, words, possibly.” In response, Terry sneezed, food spraying all over the spoon and bowl in front of the two of you, his eyes still groggy as he slumped in your hold. “Oh dear,” Alfred hummed in amusement, standing to bring you a small terrycloth towel to clean up.

Terry gave a small grunt as he pushed at the cloth now cleaning his face.

“Gonna… Gonna have to get used to that…” the suddenness surprised you, you knew it was a normal human function, but you just hadn’t… expected it.

“I think there will be a great many things for you to get used to from now on, even I will have to relearn a few things. It’s been… a very long time since an infant was in this home.” He went back to finishing his and your meal, a nostalgic and wistful look masking his face. Bruce had no idea what to do with you when you were an infant handed over to him, and it amused Alfred to this day.

Thinking about it, you looked down at Terry, your chin coming to hover over his head, almost as if you were trying to nuzzle him, loud enough for only him to hear, “…mama. S… Say mama.” The child just tilted his head and cooed at you instead, reaching up to pull at your hair again ohdeargodpleasestop.

Releasing your hair from the child’s grasp and holding both of his hands in yours this time, you tried once more, “mama.”

“Mmba,” he blew a raspberry at you as he slurred his speech, becoming more fascinated with the bubbles he blew than your inquiries. “Mm… bah.” He let out a giggle, popped his lips at you and then smiled, trying, and failing thanks to your hold, to reach for your hair again. After several attempts, he settled for turning slightly, resting his head on your chest as he watched Alfred and all of the very shiny cookware.

You flushed, wanting to beam but also feeling incredibly self-conscious about the situation still, it was honestly a lot to get used to. Frowning in determination at the snuggly bug of a child, you tried a different tactic this time, “ma.” He was still more interested in the food being cooked, however, and you heaved a sigh into his head of hair. “Mma,” well, it was a start, and you repeated your previous chant of mama to him, your own eyes wide with what felt like pride.

Was this how Alfred felt?

“Mmba.” Well, as you said, it was a start. With a sigh, you went back to shoving food in his mouth, though quickly you had to wrangle the spoon from his mouth each time. “Stop… biting it, Terry…” you wondered how Conner had gotten so smart in such a short amount of time, wondering if Terry had still been too young when you took him from the bio labs at CADMUS.

“Ah, good morning Sir,” Alfred greeted, and your head shot up to see your father standing in the doorway, bags under his eyes and a yawn hidden behind the back of his hand. “Good morning, Alfred,” he stared at the older man with a frown, obviously trying not to say something. Instead, he looked at you and the child for a long moment, giving both of you a morning greeting. And even though Terry couldn’t properly respond, he did give Bruce the same challenging look as the last time.

He was looking for something out of the ordinary, however, the only thing in the room that was new was Terry, nothing else seemed to be amiss. But you could tell, looking up at him from the corner of your eyes, head still downturned, he was searching.

“Morning dad…” you tried to be light as you smiled at him, nothing is wrong.

“Daah,” Terry tried imitating, but it was lost in the rest of his babbling as he grabbed the food from the spoon. He was making another mess as he shoved it in his mouth, fingers fiddling around tongue and mushy carrots. Thankfully you still had the terrycloth to wipe at his chubby cheeks.

Bruce’s footsteps were as silent as his entrance, stopping next to you and squatting down, large hand, warm and gentle, landing on Terry’s head as he ruffled his hair, “I’d like to talk to you downstairs soon, okay?” He studied Terry for a moment, eyes as brilliant as his own, though it seemed like Bruce almost enjoyed the small head of hair in his palm. You couldn’t tell beyond the awkward chill in the air, but the two of them were giving each other knowing looks, both challenging, though Bruce couldn’t understand why Terry looked at him that way.

He made to stand up, pulling his hand away before Terry could do any damage, cheeks puffing out in a pout. “There’s something I’d like you to look into,” he spoke as he headed back towards the door, a morning coffee handed to him by Alfred, “oh, and you’re not allowed to leave the grounds for the time being. The tracker seems to be faulty.”

Considering you broke them often over the years, well, yeah, of course it was faulty.

Again.

The smile he gave you before he left was smug and you weren’t completely certain as to why, and it was making you really really nervous, “the League computers picked up something quite interesting yesterday.”

“Uh…” Ah yeah. Well heck.

Yeah, metropolis was both a huge risk AND your last outing, you were glad you took the chance though, even if your stunt escalated the situation. You were now officially on house arrest by the most observant secret-wannabe cop in the world.

Then again, there was no telling exactly what he knew.

He might be bluffing.

“Maaam… ah…” Huh? Did he just… Quickly as if borrowed from the speed force, your thoughts of Bruce and the problems at hand seemed to flee as you beamed at Terry. “Mama?”

“Mamhh.”

[bigR] Was able to give the drive a quick look.

[bigR] I don’t understand villains. I just don’t.

The hell did that mean?

[steph] c u soon <33

Ah, crap.

The table before Bruce had only a few pieces of paper and only two photos. You’d come home nearly a week ago with a new addition to the family, from where he still wasn’t certain. He’d checked and there’d been no missing infant reports that matched up with him, both in looks and location. Tim seemed to be in on it, hiding secrets along with you, and holding back when Bruce would inquire about anything even remotely familiar to the situation. Tim had also been keeping busy with something the past few days, and ever since you’d come home from shopping, he seemed unable to stay still, constantly fidgeting.

Then there was yesterday, when Duke took you out shopping with the boys while Batman had been at the Womb at the League’s watchtower, digging up as much as he could. Which, unfortunately, was just the few scraps of confusing ledes in front of him. The annoying part is how well you avoided the cameras, there were only a few times where he had been able to make you out, the rest he had to guess based on your profile that day.

The subsequent events had started stacking up in a rather annoying fashion. Your tracker’d been broken since you gave everyone a scare a week ago, returning with a child in your arms and something akin to paranoia. Even Tim had been clueless (until he wasn’t), and now even his attitude was giving Bruce pause. It felt more unnerving than bad, something making Bruce’s own stomach knot when he kept coming up with dead ends.

The day you’d gone shopping, the Womb had picked up something the news hadn’t, as the news was calling it nothing more than an accident, and it was that that gave Bruce even more pause. The worst part is that he couldn’t just take a deep dive into the LexCorp building’s system, knowing that much was out of their (or his) hands.

If Cyborg found out that Batman was secretly looking into a non-incident on the League system for family-related business, then he’d never hear the end of it from Superman and the others. He’d have to go out of his way to get into the building, and right now wasn’t the best time to do so, security was increased ten-fold. He’d have to wait it out.

LexCorp wasn’t even reporting it as an incident themselves, but the fact that they were being very stringent about the details, the increase in surveillance, Bruce felt it in his gut; an obvious coverup. The problem was why, there was no way what had happened had been anything short of problematic for Lex, and yet they weren’t filing any kind of paperwork.

They did their best to act as if they didn’t care, but Batman saw all the extra measures, and he also saw the information black hole happening.

LexCorp, no doubt, was scrubbing.

What he had been able to do, however, was gather two snapshots of a black blur that sped out of the building before disappearing into the thick of the city below.

About the same area where Damian’s own tracker took a detour.

“I preferred it when you used to use electrical tape to tape a transceiver blocker to your arm to hide the trackers,” Bruce hadn’t looked up as you approached (and you were dang silent too, even Terry was being chill), “It was much less of a headache.”

“Yeah, but that was when I was a kid. Nothing I do now can hide me from you anymore, the technology is different from back then.”

“Except breaking it.”

“Except that.”

He snorted as you stopped at the table, situating Terry on your hip, and looked down at the photograph that Bruce pushed over to you. It took every bit of training not to give anything away as you picked the photo up and gave it a once-over.

“This is…?” you turned your head to see him with that smug smile from before, tapping the image in your hand with his finger, “this is what I want you to look into.” You would have bristled if you hadn’t known your father better, this was some kind of trap.

“The same day you headed off to Metropolis, intriguingly enough, the LexCorp building had a break-in,” he paused to gather more words, rolling them around on his tongue before swallowing them, I’m worried, and you’re the reason.

“A break-in? I hadn’t heard—”

“No, you wouldn’t have. LexCorp seems to be keeping it from the public knowledge.”

“Then the League computers?”

“Was able to take a few photos from another satellite, these two were the best ones I could find. One of whatever broke in as it took off flying, and another of the same building a few minutes after. No police, no fire crews, nothing.” He was watching your reactions like a hawk, unfortunately you’d played this game so often growing up (learning to lie and stay out of trouble was a skill your brothers and you freaking perfected, even if they got into trouble on purpose), that it was really very easy to just—

“Uhm, but… dad, how? You grounded me, remember? That makes gathering any kind of intel like, y’know, hard.”

The smug smile was back as he pointed at the rather established medical area, the two of you heading over together, “you’re the information broker, I’m sure you can find something useful. It’s not the first time you’ve had to gather information from behind bars, after all,” you really hated how he still felt compelled to remind you of that.

It was once, in a country where no one knew you and where records were shoddy at best.

And on purpose, dangit.

You still weren’t certain how he even found out, besides, he and your brothers had done worse by comparison.

As he began removing the old tracker, you ignored the pain, the lack of anesthetic nothing new to you, too used to it at this point. Not that it was terribly painful. He was precise in skill, second to Alfred, you were too preoccupied with keeping the child still in your lap to notice what he’d been doing prior to your arrival.

All jokes aside, he’d finally gotten ahold of something that could yield actual results.

He looked to the boy again, staring at his familiar features, at his hair, like midnight, “striking how much he looks like us.” You frowned at him.

It was a statement.

The joke wasn’t lost on him.

Or on you.

#tim drake x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #stephanie brown x reader #duke thomas x reader #bat!sis

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cruelfeline · 4 years ago

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Question im rewatching She Ra and ive got to the fall of Salineas and im wondering to myself: Why didn't the Horde do anything to their Runestone. As if the minimum that the Horde did was disabled/destroyed the runestone it would have affected the Alliance strength or the Horde could have tried to used it for any means. But nope they leave it alone allowing the Salineas Princess to continue to be poweful. So just wondering did they mention why they couldn't hack/destroy it?

They did not! They did not mention the runestone at all! And y’know, anon, this question has made me do some hard thinking on Hordak, and his abilities, and why he surrounded himself with the people he did, and so we’re in for a long, extrapolated answer that may or may not make sense. So strap in, and enjoy the knowledge that you have just made me talk way more about this than anyone wanted to hear!

I find Hordak to be an incredibly capable individual in terms of organization, enacting plans, utilizing established knowledge, and just... sheer determination. He decides upon a goal, and he is going to achieve that goal. It is going to happen. It may be a difficult road, and he may suffer horribly in his attempt, but he is going to defy the odds and strive doggedly forward and do everything in his power to make things work.

However, the actual methods and strategies he is capable of using appear limited. I’ve spoken about this before, specifically in terms of that time he used uninsulated cables in his experiments, and I’m going to talk about it again in broader terms.

Essentially, the thing to consider is that Hordak, intelligent though he is, is not adept in the art of innovation. He is very capable of taking his own knowledge and utilizing it successfully, but he is not able to easily deviate from learned instructions. He has significant difficulty “thinking outside the box,” so to speak (likely due to being a clone who was never meant to think up new ideas and innovate and do anything meaningful on his own), and this comes into play in terms of how he wages his war, along with why his success in waging said war increases once Entrapta and Catra lend him their skills.

Technology-wise, Hordak spends decades on Etheria using and modifying his own technology without seeming to have any interest at all in the powerful First Ones’ tech waiting to be taken advantage of. And while I’ve wondered previously if maybe he thought it too old to be of any use, I now consider the notion that he is simply not adept at incorporating new ideas and techniques into his work. Again: as a clone, this would not be something he’d be expected or even encouraged to do. He would be expected and encouraged to follow orders, to enact instructions as he received them. Innovation would be a display of individual will, wouldn’t it? So, it follows that this is not a skill he would possess or even think to develop.

Enter Entrapta: all she does is innovate. Learning new things, incorporating them into her knowledge-base, trying new methods and building upon what she’s done before are very much a strong part of her character. She sees First Ones’ tech, and she immediately tries to figure out how to use it to improve upon existing technology. This is the advantage she brings to Hordak: whereas he finds it very difficult to deviate from his current methods and knowledge, she does not. And so, with her assistance, he is able to reach technological heights previously unattainable to him.

A more military version of this involves Catra.

Think about how the war has come to what is essentially a standstill by the time SPoP begins. It’s been... thirty years, or so? Since Hordak landed on Etheria. He has absurdly advanced tech, yet he cannot seem to successfully conquer more than the Fright Zone. Seems strange, doesn’t it? That he’s unable to utilize his superior resources to do more than harass some villages. Granted, the princesses have supernatural powers, but they’re unorganized at the series’ start. They’re not putting up a united front. So... what gives? Why is Hordak not more successful? And furthermore, why does this suddenly change when he allows Catra to take over the greater strategic planning of Horde activities?

Well, to my eyes, Hordak is with military strategy the way he is with tech: he is very capable of organizing things in a prescribed way, but he is unable to devise new plans outside of what he is used to. Think about where he came from: the Galactic Horde, yes? And what did the Galactic Horde have? Countless robots. Countless clones. All unfailingly obedient. A never-ending army ready to march in and conquer and occupy everything in its path.

Which is what Hordak tries to do, isn’t it? He appears set on systematically taking territory and holding it, very much balking at Catra’s strategy of consolidating forces in favor of a more grand attack on a single target. He is likely operating under a conquering strategy that depends upon having an entire Horde of clones and robots available to enact it (and, perhaps, a conquering strategy based on Prime’s refusal to appear imperfect via losing ground?). Without this sort of force, he struggles to make meaningful headway. And because of his lack of innovative ability, he finds it difficult to devise a new strategy to compensate for a situation that does not include a battle-ready Galactic Horde.

Catra does not have this problem. Catra is very capable of thinking up new strategies as required, so she comes up with the idea to pull back from the northern perimeter and focus on Salineas, a plan that likely would have never occurred to Hordak.

Now, back to anon’s question regarding the Salineas runestone (I didn’t forget!). The reason it doesn’t come up, via my logic, is that Catra does not know anything about runestones, and Hordak remains uncertain and unable to easily incorporate such things into his working tech. Entrapta innovated with First Ones’ tech, and he is only able to work with it by basing his methods upon her research (which is how he makes his arm cannon). He is still unable to innovate it entirely on his own, so between Catra’s complete lack of knowledge and his inability to freely experiment with new ideas on his own, the Salineas runestone remains unused.

Had Entrapta still been with the Horde at this time, that runestone would have been properly assessed and handled, but she’s not. And it’s just not something Hordak can do on his own.

So! The point of this post. The point of this post is to illustrate how Hordak managed to get as far as he did with limited resources and clone limitations on his abilities: he has a potentially supernatural level of determination and the ability to recognize when others can innovate in ways he cannot. It is his decision to utilize the skills of others to compensate for his lack of innovation, paired with his vicious tenacity, that makes him such a dangerous threat during his attempts to conquer Etheria.

And it is this combination of stubborn will and lack of innovative skill that causes the initial Etherian war to play out in the strange, drawn-out way it does, with a sudden rise in success when Hordak gains access to Entrapta and Catra’s skillsets.

Well! That was much longer than it needed to be. And might be entirely wrong, but it’s a logic that works for me; at the very least, it’s interesting to think about, isn’t it?

#hordak #entrapta #catra #Anonymous

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