#like he knows we have it but ive made it clear with my mother and brother Hes Not Touching It

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA For taking down my cousin's pride flag?

So my cousin is the most no-nonsense person Ive ever met. He (M28) is very serious, and takes everything really really seriously, but he's still a joy to be around. He's super smart, and the whole family adores him, he's kind of the golden child in our family, though theres zero resentment from the rest of us.

My whole life, he's been this pillar of the "perfect kid" and although he's nice, since he's moved away, no one has been to his apartment or really seen him outside of family celebrations, dinners, weddings, etc.

Last week, he was in a car accident. (another car T boned him) and he was put in an induced coma in the hospital. He's coming out of it now, expected to make a full recovery, but is still expected to stay at the hospital for a while. My aunt, his mother (F72) asked me and other cousins to go over to his house and collect items he might need. Clothes, books, etc. She took the keys out of his clothes and have them to us, all while my cousin was still out of it.

When we got there, I opened the door to a MASSIVE Gay leather pride flag.

First thing on the wall. When we went into the apartment there was BDSM equipment, gay pride decorations everywhere, and other graphic things that made it clear my cousin is, A, gay, and B, firmly in the kink community. I don't want to get too much into it, but there were certain Polaroid pictures stapled to the bathroom wall that left little doubt.

All of us were needless to say, a little horrified.

To be clear, I am queer, and a MAJORITY of our cousins are as well. None of us had any inclination he is gay, and its clear no one else in the family knows. This was the first time anyone had been in his apartment.

We took a vote, and as the oldest one there I made the decision to hide everything. I took the flag down, I (carefully) put as much of the items that were an indication away in a box and hid them. It was a pretty extensive clean out, but I moved books and other things around on the walls to make it look a little less bare. An hour after that more family showed up at the apartment to help, people like our grandmother, more aunts and uncles and my parents, all of them cleaning or doing dishes or putting food in the fridge to help my cousin's recovery.

A few of the cousins that were there when we first found the stuff have said that I shouldnt have messed with any of it, that the pride flag was on the wall BECAUSE my cousin was happy about his identity. I argued that my cousin hadn't told any of us, isn't out to the family as far as Im aware, and I wanted to protect him in case he wasn't ready.

Further clarification, no one in the family is OUTWARDLY homophobic, but I'm still not out to a majority of my family either, and if i was in my cousin's place, Id want someone to hide my stuff for me.

My cousin still hasn't been released from the hospital, and I haven't found time alone with him to tell him that I moved some stuff in his apartment. When I handed back his keys he looked a little panicked, and I tried to look reassuring.

Im having second thoughts about whether what I did was good, or if I'm projecting my own fear about coming out to family on him. Am I the asshole?

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (VI)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 3,100

CW: MDI 18+, toxic relationship, manipulation, mommy issues, bullying, co-dependancy issues, self harm, not beta read.

Fem!oc x dark!Aemond Targeryen

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

A/N sorry its been so long! forgot wehat direction i was going in with this story so going off the few notes i had left about this chapter! might be a few changes ive made from the last few chapters, but hopefully it all makes sense! but this story is gonna get dark and sad!

Aemma had been pacing back and forth for the last hour, nerves clear on her face as her mother and brothers were set to arrive in only a days time.  She hadn’t spoken to her in what had felt like forever, and she had no idea on what too expect. She thought that perhaps she might have done something but thinking back on the countless letters she had written, she could not think of a single thing she could have possibly said. Perhaps taking Aemond’s side at Driftmark, or perhaps refusing to leave his side after the fact. 

She had made her complaint to Aemond, the morning after they had reconnected, he had simply laughed, “oh Aemma, do you really think your mother cares about you? She happily sent you of to wed me the second it was suggested.” He said as he brushed her hair for her, having dismissed her ladies so they could break their fast. “if she cared about you she would have demanded I got to Dragonstone, not you here, she simply wished to be rid of you.”

Aemma looked down, she refused to believe it, her mother had always preached how she was her favourite child, then again, after Driftmark her mother did just send her away, she would have visited her more or asked her to visit if it was true. “Really?” she asked tears in her eyes.

“oh of course” he smirked, “but do not worry dear, soon enough you shall be my wife and she will no longer have to even act as if she cared for you, and you will not have to care for her either.”

She shook her head, and looked up at him, meeting his smirk in the mirror “do you think she loves me still?”

“no” he replied instantly.

A tear fell from her eye “do you love me?” she near begged.

Aemond’s smirk widened, his eyes twinkling, “of course” she turned her head, and he instantly gripped her chin, “and you love me, don’t you?”

“no” she replied. His grip tightened slightly, “I do not know what it is to love Aemond, but perhaps…once we get to know each other more.”

He frowned. “We have known each other our who lives”

“Yes, but these past years we have been distant, I know nothing of you”.

“And whose fault is that” he said stepping away, “was it not for that bastard I would still have my eye! And you would love me!”

She stood up, following him, “how does-“he stopped her, turning around quickly to face her.                     

“Because it does!” he almost whined, “you were mine! And then you were handed to me on a silver platter and yet all you have done is whine about your mother and your stupid brothers!” he took a breath, allowing her an opportunity to speak.

“I begged to stay with you Aemond, I defended you and –“

“And you begged them to stay also!” she looked at him, she had never told him of the conversation with her mother.

“How do you know that?” she asked bewildered. “and what does that have to do with anything?”

“everything!” after what they did to me, to YOU! And you wanted them to stay” he shook his head, “I went to find you, I needed you and you were begging your mother to stay? Do you think I could forgive you?”

“Aemond-“ she was crying now.

“these past years I have grow into the man I knew you wanted, not the silly little boy you grew up with, but the man you need, my mother has been nothing but a mother to you, and yet you still crave that whore and those bastards”

“I’m sorry Aemond. “she said, reaching for his hands, “your right, I am so sorry, I just wanted my muna, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She caressed his hand, “but I didn’t want too lose you or her and yet I lost you both!” she whined, “I needed you too!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his waist.

She needed him. Aemond smiled, “goo. because I am all you will ever and have ever needed.” He said holding her to him, “your mother is here in formality over, and at the end of the week she will be nothing to you, I will be your everything, your husband, your protector, your Aemond.”

“And let me remind you sweet Aemma, that without me you would remain Lady strong, a princesses bastard. And yet you betrayed me, begged for our tormentors to stay and if that had happened do you think I would have been able to devote these past five years to becoming your protector, to become the man you desired?”

She shook her head.

“They were cruel to you, hated you. All because your mother favoured you, do you think they will have changed?”

She shook her head again, and started to think back, growing up all she had ever wanted was to marry Aemond, and have him be her protector and never have to see Jace and Luke again.

She had thought that after Driftmark she would never get that Aemond, he had changed the second that eye was taken from him. He became cold and cruel and there was even whispers he was mad.

“but-“she started to speak, a part of her felt like he had turned into them.

He had tormented her for years and now he seemed to be perfect for her. It didn’t make sense.

“But what?” he asked, suddenly moving closer to her.

“you have been cruel, ignoring me then you started to torment me, sending me the heads of Aemma’s roses, as if you were threatening me.”

He shook his head, “I don’t know what your talking about”

“yes you do!”

“no Aemma, your confused, I sent you Aemma’s roses, to show I was thinking of you , and I never cut there heads of” he laughed, “and I only ignored you as I felt so hurt by what you did”

“i- but you cut of-“ she shook her head, “I-I I’m so confused, Aemond I- perhaps I should ask Cassandra, she has a better memory than me –“

“no Aemma, your just misremembering, you’ve always had trouble with remembering things” he said, “and do you not trust me?” he said sounding sad.

she shook her head, “of course not- I, just I thought you hated me for whatever reason and now I must have thought your acts were of torment and not …love” she said unsure.

“it okay Aemma, I know you struggle and I know you have always had difficulties with things” he said softly, “I was hurt and scared you would hate me too, I should have been more upfront, it is all my fault” he said, pulling her into a hug, “I know you are sorry, and I am too”/

He wasn’t, he loved the look on her face when she opened the box of cut of Aemma’s rose heads, loved the way she was scared, but he also realised years of ignoring her had made him seem untrustworthy, and he feared he made a mistake, he had a new strategy to play. At first he wantec her to be scared and run to him for help, but it seems her ladies and beloved Cassandra had gotten in the way of that plan, and made him the villain.

He supposed he had to get them out of the way.

Since that conversation, Aemond had made sure she did not leave his side.

Saying how he missed her dearly, and realising how much he needed her and pushing her away had hurt him more than it hurt her.

She had felt so badly for him, and before he knew it they were back to their old habits, were she went he went, she would even ask him too choose all her clothes, even serve her dinner.

She forgot how simple life was with Aemond, how happy and easy he made her life.

And Aemond was loving it, he loved getting to control every detail about her, she would dress how he liked, believing it her choice to let him pick, she would follow him everywhere, meaning he no longer had to follow her.

The only problem was that her ladies maids were still in the way. They ere there when she woke, and dressed, giving question stares as he would enter her rooms, whispering in her ear about things Aemma would never reveal.

He wasn’t jealous just angry.

He had been hurt all those years ago and ignored her because he wanted to be better. Become the best possible Aemond, become her protector and a man who would never again loose his eyes to is silly little nephews, and someone who would never let them hurt Aemma again.

And it was blatantly obvious that his ignoring of her head made her annoyingly close to her little friends.

He had hidden letters from her mother the first year, then they came less and less, before stopping altogether. He would allow a few of Aemma’s letters to be sent, not before reading them himself. He wanted her too feel isolated, but that had failed, and now it would be too suspicious for Aemma to receive the letters her mother had sent over the years, especially as he had read them all and hated the love his sister had for her daughter, hated that no matter how hard he wanted to hide it, her mothers return would only pull them apart once more.

So he realised the game of isolation needed to change and to get ride of the Ladies he must earn their trust, so he wooed them, by sitting in at their gatherings and showing undivided devotion to Aemma, there was still the issue of Cassandra Baratheon. She despised him, and he here. She was brash and loud, and Aemma’s best friend. 

He wasn’t jealous, no, not at all. Not jealous of the way she effortless laughed at her jokes or talked to her without having the perplexed and wanted to please look in her eyes that’s she did with him.

He watched the bitterly as they chatted the day away. She seemed to light up around Cassandra, and he hated it.

“Are you nervous about you mother and brothers return?” Cassandra asked, sipping her tea.

“yes, especially my mother” she sighed, stirring her tea “I did receive a letter from my brothers this morning” she reviled, much to  Aemond’s surprise. He had ordered all letters addressed to Aemma be sent to him straight away, how this had escaped him – “I had waited in the ravenry for a reply for my letter, and one had just arrived when I got there.” She reviled, answering what Aemond was wondering.

“what did it say?” Cassandra and Aemond asked simultaneously.

“Luke and Jace were asking about how I am , and saying they were sorry if their actions in our youth  and wish for us to reconnect upon there return.” She replied.

“you will do no such thing” Aemond spoke, standing up.

“And why not?” Cassandra asked, clearly unhappy at Aemond.

“because of how they have always treated her!2

“oh please, they were children!” Cassandra spoke, now standing alongside Aemond, “ they have apologized and wish to know there sister, and from what Aemma has told me, I and my sisters have done far worse to each other than they did to her!”

Aemond scoffed, “please, they were bullies, they locked her in the black cells!”

“they- they what?” Cassandra asked, no looking towards Aemma.

“i- its true they did, but they have apologised incessantly since then.” Aemma said, trying to diffuse the situation, “they are my brothers, and they.. they said sorry”

“You still have nightmares Aemma” Aemond spoke, now moving back to his seat and taking her hands in his.

This perplexed Aemma she had never not once told Aemond of her dreams, especially of that night, he himself had always felt partly responsible for it, having taken so long to find her, and having left her alone that night. “what?” she asked, “I never told you about my dreams…”

Aemond flinched sightly, realising his mistake, and Cassandra herself took on an angry expression, “how do you know of those dreams Prince Aemond?” she asked, moving herself closer to Aemond and Aemma, as if to protect her.

“i- she is to be my wife, I only took a concern when the guards said she would often wake screaming.” He said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“but that still-“ Aemma started, slowly removing her hands from Aemond.

“don’t concern yourself too much Aemma I simply stood guard to ensure you did not try to harm  yourself.”

Aemma flinched, Aemond cant know about that, no one does. Not even her maids. She had always kept her arms covered, he cant know.

Her eyes betrayed her, showing a scared expression, an expression both Aemond and Cassandra took to be scared about hurting herself.

“I – I” she stuttered, “I don’t know what you-“

“don’t worry Aemma, nothing bad happened, and your brothers wont get anywhere near you” Aemond spoke.

Aemma nodded, trying to mask her own fear of Aemond potentially knowing her secret to make it look like she feared her brothers.

Her parents were set to arrive on the morrow, and All Aemma could do was twist and turn. Dreams had been plaguing her. Ever since the black cells she has been getting premonitions, dreams of what was to come, dreams that have come true.

She supposed she was lucky, Helenas dreams caused her to speak in riddles, some even called her mad. When in truth Aemma was the one who was mad. She scratched and bleed as she dreamed, tearing at the skin on her arm. Her hands felt like they were soaked in blood, her nails turned red, as she scratched and teared. She dreamt of herself, she was married with children, but one was dead. She killed him. She must have, blood was on her hands, on her dress her face. Her other children cowered in the corner, flinching away from her.

“a son for a son!” she woke up gasping, the words ringing in her head.

Her bed sheets were stained in her blood, her arms scarred. The wounds from her last dream only just having healed.

She couldn’t help it, it was if her only escaped from her dreams was to harm herself. Perhaps it had been the three years of isolation she had felt so alone, where the dreams controlled her. She would send days and days tuck in the loop. Until one day her mother wrote to her of needing alliances and how her and Alicent had chosen her ladies. Her ladies had saved her, Cassandra specifically. She would wake her up, help her dress, and for once Aemma had a reason to escape her dreams. But then Aemond’s neglect and ignorance of her had turned cruel, calling her “my lady strong”, a name he had only just stopped calling her.

But something haunted her as she paced around her chambers, Aemond’s torment had put a stop to her dreams, the dreams were there was no dancing dragons, or no blood-soaked hands and gowns. Instead the dreams were of dragon snapping dragons neck, storm soaked nights and screams. And then since this week her nightmares have been full of crying, begging and blood. And now this.

It seemed no matter what her life would be full of tears and screams, and death.

“Aemma.” Cassandra said, walking into her chambers, alongside the rest of her ladies, Cerci Lannister, Cerelle Costayne, Margaret Fossway and Rosia Tyrell.

She had not slept since being awoken from her dreams, she had bathed and dressed, applied ointment to her scares, and had proceeded to pace her rooms nonstop.

She was worried, her mother would be here soon, and she had no ideas what she would be like.

She knew nothing of her, and she feared her mother may no longer love her. And well she was nervous about her wedding, and the wedding night. Aemond and Alicent had told her about it in the past week, and she was scared. And she just needed her Muna.

“how are you feeling?” Cersi asked.

“I am nervous” she admitted.

“of course, you will be wed on the morrow, you are bound to be nervous” Margaret added.

“well i-“

“but think, you will get to marry someone who loves you!” Rosia gushed.

“yes you are so lucky!” Cerelle complained, she had received news yesterday of her father engaging her to some man who had been married twice before and she had never met.

“oh Cerelle, he’s old hell probably die before you can wed.” Aemma said nonchalantly, and Cassandra laughed as she watched Aemma gasp at her own words. “sorry, just today the first time I will see my mother and brothers in years. I’m nervous”

Cassandra grabbed her hand, caressing home gently, “it’ll be okay, I’m sure.” She then looked to Cerelle “ and Aemma’s right, he’s what eight and seventy, he could croak at nay moment!” they all laughed, and for the first time that day Aemma’s mind was finally taken of what was to come.

She stood in the courtyard wating for their arrival, alongside her stood alone, Alicent having to have leave only moments ago to take care of something. She had done all her wedding planning with Alicent, she had comforted her when she cried over her mothers lack of care over her wedding, and visiting her despite her countless letters over the years. But Alicent seemed nervous, as if she was waiting for something or scared of something, and even more so when she had to leave.

After a few moments a carriage finally arrived in the courtyard, and her mother was the first to step out.

She wanted to run to her, to hug her and tell her how she had missed her. But her dream, it rang in her head.

“A son for a son” that all she could hear, and a voice in her head told her it was her mother’s fault, that her mother would force her to kill her son. She didn’t want to think it, but her mothers face, her blood soaked hands and a headless child was all she could see.

She made her way slowly walking down the steps the greet them.

“muña, lēkia” she greeted, a smile gracing her face. “welcome home”

next part

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[sunnycanvas]

Can you write about a scenario, where, Baldwin loses yn, and gets incredibly upset over it, tries to find her (but secretly because people can't know he's actually seeing someone because of his leprosy) only to find out she was killed ? Maybe he finds her body too/retrieves it

Adiuva nos, Domine,

In tribulatione nostra.

Te clamamus, Sancte Deus,

Exaudi preces nostras

O Maria, Mater Gratiae,

Tu es refugium nostrum.

In tenebris et angustia,

Sustenta nos, o dulcis Virgo.

Sancte Michael, protector noster,

Defende nos in proelio.

Contra insidias diaboli,

Fidei nostrae fortitudo.

Gloria Patri et Filio,

Et Spiritui Sancto.

Sicut erat in principio,

Et nunc et semper.

Baldwin IV gripped his rosary with trembling hands, his knuckles white as he prayed fervently. He prayed for your safety. It had been days since you vanished, and he was drowning in helplessness. He couldn't launch a full investigation, not without risking exposure of the bond between you. The very thought of anyone discovering what you meant to him sent a cold shiver down his spine. Baldwin understood the dangers of being associated with him. Especially now, as a leper. His condition, his cursed existence, only amplified the peril for anyone close to him. He had kept you hidden. Your presence, your existence and shielded from the world, all to protect both of you. But now, the silence stretched on, and Baldwin could feel his sanity slipping. The thought of anything happening to you, of you being hurt or worse, twisted inside him like a sharp knife. Baldwin could feel his heartbeat beating so hard that it was painful. Baldwin never knew what fear was until he met you. The thought of you being injured or worse, Baldwin wouldn't know how to live.

"No," he whispered, trying to force away the dread that clawed at his insides. "You’re safe. You have to be safe."

Just as he finished his prayer and turned around, his eyes fell upon his mother, Agnes de Courtenay. She approached him with hesitant steps, her face drawn tight with worry. Baldwin didn’t need to see her expression to know it was bad news.

"Any word?" His voice was colder than he meant it to be, a harsh edge creeping into his words.

Agnes paused, her hands wringing together as she looked down. "No, my son," she stammered, her voice faltering. "I’m doing everything I can. I swear, I—"

"Everything you can?" Baldwin cut her off, his words sharp and cutting. His frustration was boiling over, the fear for you overwhelming everything else. "Your best isn’t enough, Mother. Not when her life is on the line!". His gaze was relentless, piercing through her with the weight of his anger. "I entrusted you with this. I trusted you to keep her safe, and now look where we are no answers, no progress". "How many days must pass before you start doing what you promised?" Agnes flinched, her eyes wide with the sting of his words, but Baldwin’s gaze didn’t soften. He was beyond patience. Baldwin IV continued with his voice that cut through the air like a blade. "So, it seems her presence was discovered after all," he said, his tone ice-cold. "Mother, you’ve failed utterly in keeping her hidden, just as I entrusted you to do. Is this truly the best you can manage?" He paused, his eyes narrowing, fury flickering in them. "Perhaps I was a fool to trust you at all. I should have given the task to my uncle, someone who might actually be competent. Clearly, you can't even manage something as simple as this." His words were like a slap, and the venom in his gaze made it clear he had no room for excuses.

Agnes flinched at the sharpness in her son’s tone. She had braced herself for his wrath, but the sheer intensity still struck a chord deep within her. Yet, she wasn’t going to retreat without a fight. Gathering her courage, she straightened and replied with calm defiance. “Of course,” she began, her voice firm despite the tension in the air, “a mere noblewoman like me is no match for the Dowager Queen, your stepmother, who has been quietly maneuvering to place your half-sister Isabella on the throne. Let us not forget that Isabella holds a claim through your father.” Baldwin’s brows furrowed, confusion momentarily softening the fury etched into his features. The sudden mention of Maria Komnene was unexpected. Agnes caught the subtle shift in his demeanor, recognizing the spark of intrigue. She pressed forward without hesitation. “I have evidence,” she continued, her voice steady and deliberate, “that a woman matching (Y/N)’s description was seen in Nablus. And where does your stepmother reside? Nablus. It’s no coincidence, Baldwin.” His eyes widened, a mix of shock and desperate hope flashing across his face. Without waiting for his mother to elaborate further, he barked out a command. “Prepare the horses! We’re leaving at once.” Agnes started, alarmed by his abrupt reaction. “Baldwin, wait! The evidence we have, it’s flimsy at best. It only hints at her presence, nothing certain—”

“I don’t care!” Baldwin cut her off, his voice trembling with emotion. “If there is even the slightest chance (Y/N) is there, I will go. No matter how faint the trail may be.” Determined to avoid unnecessary attention, Baldwin insisted on going alone, without knights or a retinue. Agnes, unwilling to let her son journey into potential danger alone, argued until he relented. Exhausted from the emotional storm, Baldwin agreed with little resistance. Both mother and son disguised themselves as common travelers, cloaked in simple garb with hoods obscuring their faces.

As they rode under the cover of blazing hot sun, Baldwin’s thoughts churned in turmoil. His stepmother, Maria Komnene, had always been ambitious, but would she truly act so brazenly? He scowled beneath his hood, considering the other players in the shadowy game of politics. Could Raymond of Tripoli, his calculating cousin, be involved? Or the Ibelin brothers, notorious for their scheming alliances? His instincts told him 'No, they wouldn’t dare'. That left only one man: Guy of Lusignan, his reckless and power-hungry brother-in-law. The very thought of Guy made Baldwin’s grip tighten on the reins, rage building in his chest.

Agnes, as if sensing her son’s thoughts, spoke softly. “Do not let your mind run wild, my son. This reeks of your stepmother’s hand. She has made alliances in the court, strengthening her position. Her marriage ties to the Ibelins have been... advantageous.”

Baldwin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his silence betraying the storm within.

As they neared their destination, something caught his attention. A familiar figure moving in the distance. Baldwin’s breath hitched. “Sibylla?” he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. His gaze snapped to his mother, who appeared just as stunned. Without a word, Baldwin motioned for silence, urging his horse to follow his sister at a safe distance. Agnes, still reeling, followed his lead.

Sibylla led them to a secluded area, where she dismounted and began speaking to a shadowy figure. Baldwin and Agnes dismounted as well, watching from a concealed position. “Make sure her body is disposed of in a way that it can’t be recognized,” Sibylla ordered, her voice cold and resolute. The man bowed slightly, replying grimly, “Of course, my lady. Anything else?”

Sibylla smiled, a cruel satisfied expression that sent a chill through Baldwin. “Oh no, you’ve done an absolutely fantastic job in killing (Y/N). My brother may mourn her now, but he will thank me later.”

Baldwin froze, the weight of her words crashing down on him like a tidal wave. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. His vision blurred with a mix of fury and devastation. Then, without hesitation, he unsheathed his sword and spurred his horse forward.

"SIBYLLA!" His voice thundered, raw with fury, reverberating like a war cry that sent chills down the spines of even the most hardened knights. Agnes barely had time to reach out before her son was charging toward his sister, the blade in his hand glinting like justice itself.

Baldwin IV’s horse reared back, its hooves striking the air as his roar echoed through the desolate clearing. His blue eyes, ablaze with rage, locked onto his sister’s frozen figure. She stood trembling, her schemes exposed, with no crowd to shield her from her brother's wrath . The man standing beside Sibylla, realizing it was the king himself bearing down upon them, stumbled backward, stammering incoherent apologies before bolting into the shadows. Sibylla was left alone, her fear-stricken body rooted to the ground. Baldwin’s horse halted mere feet away from her, nostrils flaring, its king equally volatile. “I should kill you where you stand!” he bellowed about to striker her with his sword. Sybilla although fearful of her brother's wrath somehow narrowly escaped the sword stumbling backwards in fear by sheer luck. "You scheming, treacherous fool!" he growled, his voice low and deadly as he urged his horse forward ready to strike her again. "You dared to betray me?" His tone was laced with a venom that made Sibylla’s knees weaken. She stumbled backward again, her face pale, eyes wide with dread. She had never seen her brother like this, his normally composed demeanor shattered by pure, unrestrained fury. As Baldwin surged toward her, his expression promising retribution, Agnes’s voice cut through the chaos, her horse galloping into the scene as she placed herself squarely between her son and daughter. Her arms spread wide in a protective gesture, shielding Sibylla from Baldwin’s wrath.

"Baldwin, stop!" Agnes implored, her voice trembling with urgency. "You cannot do this!" “Please, Baldwin, don’t do this!”. Agnes reasoned, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her fear. She had seen her son angry before, but never like this—never so unhinged, so consumed.

Baldwin���s horse came to an abrupt halt, its hooves digging into the dirt as he glared down at his mother. His blue eyes burned with fury as he snarled, “Get out of my way, Mother.” His voice was low, trembling with restrained anger. “She doesn’t deserve your protection" "Not after what she’s done. None of you do.”

Agnes held her ground, her voice firm but laced with desperation.“(Y/N) wouldn’t want this,” she pleaded, her eyes softening.

Her words acted as a spark to dry tinder, igniting an even fiercer blaze of rage in her son. His horse snorted and shifted as he practically snarled in response. "DON’T YOU DARE BRING HER INTO THIS!" Baldwin’s voice boomed, his rage untethered. "Do not use her name to shield your guilt! You all killed her!" He gestured wildly toward Sibylla, his accusations cutting like daggers. "You, with your selfish schemes! You destroyed the only person who ever made this wretched existence tolerable!" he snapped, his voice cracking as he gestured sharply toward Sibylla. “You all killed her!

Agnes desperate in fear mumbled "Please Baldwin, you can't do this" "Killing your sister will start a civil war" "Our kingdom won't receive donations to survive by our own cousins" . Baldwin in anger retorted "Do not speak to me of what I can and cannot do, Mother! Do you think I care for appearances anymore? Do you think I care for laws or blood ties when my very own family killed her?" His voice cracked as it reached a crescendo, raw grief mingling with his fury.

Agnes's lips parted as if to argue, but Baldwin’s voice thundered again, silencing her. "She was the light of my life, the only light in this accursed kingdom of shadows. And you snuffed it out!" Sibylla, trembling and unable to meet his gaze, muttered something unintelligible, but Baldwin would not hear it. "Speak not a word to me!" he hissed, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl as he pulled his horse closer. "I should end you for what you’ve done."

His horse shifted uneasily beneath him, mirroring its master’s fury. Agnes held her ground, her hand gripping her saddle tightly to steady herself. “Baldwin, please!” she implored, her voice softer now, pleading. “Your anger won’t bring her back!” “No!” Baldwin’s shout tore through the night, his face contorting in agony. “But it will ensure justice is served! I will not let her memory be trampled on by the people who betrayed her.” Sibylla whimpered behind Agnes, tears streaming down her pale face, her voice barely audible as she tried to speak. But Baldwin ignored her, his gaze fixed on his mother as if daring her to move. “Step aside, Mother,” he warned, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. “Or I swear, I’ll ride through you.”

Agnes moved her horse with determination, shielding Sibylla fully. "You are King, Baldwin. Do not let your grief destroy what she loved in you." "Your sense of duty. I am asking you, for the sake of the kingdom, to control yourself' "You know right how stability is fragile because of complex court politics right now". Agnes knew Baldwin just like her late husband Almaric was man of duty. Luckily for Agnes her trick worked and Baldwin took long labored breath to calm down Baldwin’s chest heaved as he sucked in a long, ragged breath, his fingers trembling on the hilt of his sword. His smoldering eyes burned with suppressed fury, unshed tears glistening under the hood of his cloak. Agnes knew, as much as Baldwin hated to show weakness, had his leprosy not robbed him of tears, they would be falling freely now.

Once assured that Baldwin was reigning in his rage, Agnes turned her attention to Sibylla, her face hard with disgust. “Why did you do this to (Y/N)?” she demanded, her voice like ice.

Sibylla, though visibly shaken at first, straightened her posture. She squared her shoulders, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. “I acted for the good of the kingdom,” she declared, her tone resolute. “You yourself have said how precarious the court’s balance is, especially after Father’s second marriage. (Y/N) was a poison to this realm, indulging herself with my leprous brother and leading us all to sin.” Baldwin’s fists clenched tighter at her words, his jaw set in a way that made it clear he was barely containing his rage. His voice, low and dangerous, cut through the air. “(Y/N) had no interest in court politics,” he growled, his tone trembling with anger. Agnes added swiftly, her voice icy, “Whatever schemes you think she wove, they existed only in your mind, Sibylla.” Sibylla scoffed, her confidence growing as she met her mother’s glare. “That’s what she wanted you all to believe,” she replied, a sneer curling her lips. “That whore seduced my sinful brother, wrapping him around her finger. She made herself indispensable to him, and in doing so, she threatened the delicate peace we’ve tried so hard to maintain. So, I acted.” Her voice hardened, her gaze unrepentant. “I drowned her.” Agnes gasped, her revulsion barely concealed, while Baldwin’s body tensed like a coiled spring, his fury on the verge of erupting. “Sibylla,” he warned, his voice deadly calm, “choose your next words carefully, or I will claw the very tongue from your mouth.” Agnes, sensing the explosion brewing within her son, leaned forward and hissed in a low voice to Sibylla, ensuring Baldwin couldn’t hear. “Where did you get this vile notion? Who planted these ideas in your head?” For a brief moment, Sibylla faltered, her expression shifting into something unsettling. A lovestruck reverie. Her voice softened as she whispered, “My husband told me. Guy explained everything. He opened my eyes to her true nature.”. Agnes froze, but Baldwin let out a groan of exasperation, the sound a mix of fury and dismay. He had heard enough to piece together the whispered exchange. His eyes blazed as he locked his gaze on Sibylla. The crackling silence between them spoke volumes, Baldwin’s composure hanging by a thread as he stared down the sister who had shattered his world.

“Show us her body,” Agnes commanded, her voice sharp and leaving no room for argument. To her relief, Sibylla gave no protest, silently turning to lead them toward an abandoned house. The acrid stench of death grew stronger with every step, guiding them like a trail. Baldwin dismounted his horse in silence, his face an unreadable mask. Inside the house, the smell became suffocating. It led them to a small room where (Y/N)’s body lay on a rickety bed, her lifeless form bathed in the dim light filtering through the cracks in the walls. Though the odor was strong, the appearance of her body was hauntingly serene, as if death had only just brushed her. Baldwin froze in the doorway, staring at her still form as if unable to comprehend what he was seeing. “(Y/N),” he whispered, his voice trembling. Slowly, he stepped forward, each movement heavy with disbelief and agony, until he reached the bedside. He sank to his knees, his trembling hands hovering over her face before cradling her lifeless body in his arms. His breath hitched as he took in her features the faint curve of her lips, the delicate eyelashes resting against her cheeks. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “So beautiful. You don’t look dead... only asleep.” His hand caressed her cold cheek, his touch desperate, as if his warmth alone could bring her back. “Oh, (Y/N),” Baldwin whispered, his eyes stung with unshed tears, his chest heaving with suppressed sobs. “Please... wake up. You promised me,” he pleaded, his voice raw and thick with despair. “You swore you wouldn’t leave me, not as long as I lived. You lied to me, my love... you lied...” He clutched her closer, his shoulders shaking as the grief consumed him. “You were my light... my only light in this wretched world,” he choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of his sorrow. “How am I to go on without you? How am I to face the darkness without you beside me?” Wailed by his diseased dry eyes . He kissed her hair dampening by his lips. He pressed his lips to her temple, his trembling breath ghosting over her still form. Agnes stood nearby, her own heart heavy as she witnessed her son’s anguish. She had seen Baldwin face countless battles, seen him stand tall against unimaginable pain, but this, this broken man before her, was a sight she could barely bear. His grief was raw, unfiltered, and so profound it filled the room with its weight. Baldwin rocked (Y/N)’s body gently, his words becoming incoherent as sobs wracked his body. His fingers brushed through her hair as though soothing her to sleep. “Please... just one more moment,” he begged the heavens, his voice barely audible. “Let me hold her... let me hear her laugh again... her voice, her heartbeat...”His cries pierced the air, echoing through the empty house, a king brought to his knees by the unbearable loss of the woman who had been his everything. And as Baldwin cradled her lifeless form, it was as though his own heart had stopped beating alongside hers.

Sibylla watched her brother’s grief with an almost placating smile. "It’s okay, brother," she said softly, though her tone carried a trace of condescension. "Let out your grief. This sacrifice was necessary for the betterment of the kingdom." Baldwin’s trembling stopped abruptly as her words reached him. His reddened face lifted to meet her gaze, his expression hollow yet sharp, like a blade dulled by too much use but still capable of cutting. "Who else worked with you?" His voice, though low, carried the unmistakable edge of restrained fury. Sibylla straightened, confidence flickering in her anger as she retorted, "Me. I acted alone." Baldwin’s gaze didn’t waver. "So Mother didn’t know about this," he said, his words heavy with accusation. His tone made even Agnes flinch at the mention of her involvement. "No," Sibylla answered firmly. "Mother didn’t know about this." For a moment, Baldwin seemed to freeze. His grief contorted into something darker, something terrifying. His face, already ravaged by disease and despair, now carried an expression of such cold rage that even Sibylla, emboldened as she was, felt her confidence falter. When he spoke again, his voice was chilling, devoid of any humanity. "You’re going to feel what you’ve done to me. The same pain, the same torment" "You will suffer just as you made me suffer. I will make sure of it." Sibylla’s eyes narrowed, her anger surging forth like a storm. "You dare call me selfish?" she snapped. "You sit on that throne, clinging to your miserable life, bringing sin upon this kingdom by indulging in your lust for that woman! It’s you who’s selfish, Baldwin not me! You should step down and let my husband rule" "A man who is strong and capable, unlike you." Baldwin let out a bitter, humorless laugh that echoed in the small, decrepit room. "Capable? Your husband?" He sneered, his lip curling with disdain. "A coward who hides behind you to make his moves? Don’t worry, dear sister. He’ll have his time to shine" "In the dungeon. I’ll ensure he becomes intimately acquainted with every torture device we own before I execute him." Sibylla gasped, her fury boiling over. She raised a hand to strike him, but Agnes, weary of the madness around her, stepped forward and caught her wrist, shielding Baldwin with her body. "Enough!" Agnes’s voice carried the weight of her authority, silencing the escalating storm. Turning to her son, she placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, her expression softening. "Baldwin," she said gently, "this... this isn’t what (Y/N) would have wanted. Let us focus on her, not on revenge." Her voice cracked slightly as she continued, "We should give her a proper burial. She deserves that, if nothing else." Baldwin’s breathing slowed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her words. His rage momentarily abated, overtaken by his grief as he looked down at (Y/N)’s body once more. "A burial," he whispered, nodding slowly, his focus entirely on the woman he loved. "Yes. She deserves that." Sibylla scoffed loudly but said nothing else, her lips pressed into a tight line. The tension in the room simmered, unspoken words and unresolved hatred hanging heavy in the air as Baldwin’s attention remained solely on (Y/N), his sorrow drowning out all else.

All three rode in solemn silence, Baldwin insisting on carrying (Y/N)’s lifeless body on his horse. No one dared argue. As they traveled back, Agnes swore she could hear Baldwin murmuring soft, sweet words to (Y/N), as if she could still hear him. She had always admired her son’s resilience and the strength of his mind, his determination to lead even as his body battled the ravages of disease. But now, watching him, Agnes feared that (Y/N)’s death might shatter him entirely, driving him into the depths of madness. They arrived at a small, secluded church under the protection of Agnes’s allies. Baldwin dismounted, his movements stiff but deliberate, and cradled (Y/N)’s body in his arms as he entered the hallowed ground. His hollow, vacant eyes met those of Patriarch Heraclius, who quickly approached with an air of confusion. Baldwin addressed the archbishop in a voice devoid of life, yet carrying the weight of an unbreakable command. "Take her body," he said, his words measured and heavy. "Ensure she is given a proper burial. On her grave, inscribe the words: ‘Light of the world for the leper.’" Heraclius froze in stunned realization, his gaze falling to the woman in Baldwin’s arms realizing that she was the lover of the leper king . Before Heraclius could respond, Agnes quickly stepped forward, leaning in to whisper firmly, "Keep her presence here a secret. Let no one know." Her voice was quiet but sharp, leaving no room for argument. Heraclius nodded, too shocked to protest, and turned to oversee the arrangements as Baldwin reluctantly placed (Y/N) down for the last time. Once outside, Agnes found her son standing near the churchyard, staring blankly into the distance as if searching for something beyond the horizon. His voice broke the silence, low and filled with a crushing sorrow. "As much as I speak of revenge, I know it is impossible. My actions would destroy the kingdom." He paused, the grief in his tone cutting through Agnes like a blade. "I couldn’t protect her in life, and now I’ve failed her in death. But I will protect the kingdom she loved. At least... when I meet her again, I can tell her I wasn’t a complete failure." Agnes reached out and rested her hand gently on his shoulder, her voice soft but resolute. "The fault lies with me as well. We both failed her, my son. But for your sake and hers, I swear to you—I will ensure that Sibylla and her husband never sit on the throne. Her son, your nephew, will rule instead. I will see to it." For the first time since (Y/N)’s death, a faint glimmer of relief flickered in Baldwin’s eyes. He turned to his mother, his voice regaining a trace of its usual sharpness. "Yes, you are right. This kingdom must not be ruled by (Y/N)’s murderer." His expression hardened. "I entrust you with this, Mother. Convince the Haute Cour. Do not fail me as you did before."

Agnes straightened her posture, her voice carrying a quiet determination. "I won’t. I promise you that."

[warping-realities]

Rich People Problems

This was my tribute to the works of the incredible @callmecallmecrazy (seriously, what are you doing that you haven't read the legend yet?) and the no less amazing dumb-and-jocked, if you're reading this bro know that we all miss you immensely!

Repost with new images and minimal changes to the story.

.....

Cris sighed for what felt like an eternity before stepping into the luxurious and refined ballroom of the Country Club. This was going to be a painful experience. An engagement party, out of the blue. His mother, Carol, had been widowed a few years back and since then had thrown herself into her work as a lawyer. She was a staunch defender of human rights, fighting hard in court for the less fortunate. Cris greatly admired his mom's work and never judged her for her absences; what she did changed lives, and from an early age, he understood the importance of her work. Even so, because of that, he had always been a lonely kid—absent father, distant mother, and a social awkwardness that kept him from making lasting friendships. Books were his greatest companions, ranging from children's classics to true masterpieces, and it was through reading complex political works that he decided to become a journalist to fight against the ills and injustices of the world, just like his mom.

So, you can imagine Cris's enormous surprise when he found out that his mother had decided to marry the notorious multimillionaire Archibald Sutterland III, a guy with a rep for being a hard-ass boss and totally averse to workers' rights. “The Third,” muttered Cris with disdain. Rich people and their pretentious names, he thought, rolling his eyes as he stepped into the room.

He walked through the place, crawling with pretentious people, all dressed to the nines, casting judgmental looks his way. But he didn’t let it get to him; this was, after all, his mom’s engagement, and he’d wear whatever the hell he wanted. Not that he had time to find “appropriate” clothes for the occasion. Having been snatched by a couple of giant security guards from his college dorm earlier that day, bundled into a private jet, and taken to a stately mansion, where a pompous outfit awaited him on the bed of a room bigger than his former home, he decided to ignore the getup despite the protests of his “guardians,” who, finally defeated, dumped him in a freaking limousine and dropped him off in a place that felt totally alien and hostile to him.

“How does crap like this even happen?” he muttered to himself as he searched for his mother, determined to confront her about this madness. Speaking of madness… he finally spotted her, standing by the bar, wearing a dress he could never have imagined, a goofy smile plastered on her face. Just one more piece of info for the list of absurdities of the day.

“Mom? What the hell is going on?” he asked irritably.

“Cristhian, my dear, I'm glad you made it in time! But what are you wearing? Archibald made it clear to the staff that you should be handled properly!”

“Handled? What the hell, Mom! I'm not some puppy to be 'led' around. And what the fuck is going on anyway? What ridiculous idea of marriage is this?”

“Just be quiet, please, Cristhian. Don't embarrass me in front of the society.”

“And since when do you care about ‘society?’” he said, emphasizing the word with obvious disdain. Forcing a smile in hopes no one noticed the altercation, his mother pulled him aside as she spoke.

“Calm down, let’s talk…”

….

Watching the scene from afar was Archibald Sutterland III, accompanied by his longtime partner and friend, Forrest Gordon-Lenox IV.

“You have to admit, the boy’s got some flair, Archie.” Forrest was one of the few allowed to use that nickname since they’d known each other since childhood, but only when they were alone.

“I should’ve seen it coming that the boy inherited some of his mother’s fire, but if I’ve molded her into an impeccable example of a woman, believe me, I’ll get the brat out of the way. In fact, I think this might be the perfect opportunity to test my own heir,” he said as he saw a handsome young man approaching.

“Good evening, Father. Good evening, Mr. Gordon-Lenox. Looks like Carol is having some issues with her son,” said the handsome muscular blond young man with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Good evening, Chadwick. Your father and I were just talking about your future brother’s peculiar ways.”

“Chadwick, the time has come. I could do it myself, but soon you’ll graduate, and you'll need to step up. I don’t care much for society gossip, but something like this could have negative repercussions on business. So I need you to take care of the kid.”

“Yes, Father, with the greatest pleasure,” replied the young man with a sneaky smile.

….

“Mom, it feels like I’ve walked into a bad adaptation of Stepford Wives! This makes no sense. How can you drop everything, years of career, to marry an old man and become a housewife?”

“If I were you, I’d be very careful with words spoken in such an environment, my friend,” said a sassy voice. Turning around, startled, Cris came face to face with a handsome young man in a light blue suit, matching his eyes, which were currently assessing him with a predatory look.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Chadwick Sutterland.”

“So what…?”

“So what, friend, if we’re going to be brothers, we might as well agree on some things.”

“Brothers???”

“Chadwick is Archibald’s son, Cristhian, so after the wedding, he’ll be your brother.”

“How wonderful,” replied Cris, exasperated.

“Indeed, I think we’re going to get along just fine, Cristhian.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it!”

“Cristhian! Enough of that!” Carol whispered, anguished.

“Let me handle this, Carol. Your son and I just got off on the wrong foot, but let’s fix this together. Cristhian, can’t you at least try this for your mom?” Chadwick concluded in an accusatory tone. Seeing the anguish on the face of the most important woman in his life, Cris relented.

“Okay, since it looks like this craziness is going to happen anyway… but I’m not wearing that pompous crap.” He responded, disdainfully eyeing his future “brother’s” attire, not caring if it offended him.

“Apparently, someone always has to be on top. I think I’ll call you Topper, brother, and since we’re among bros, you can call me Chad.”

“You can call me whatever you want; this ‘brotherly’ relationship won’t last long. So come on, I need a drink.”

“Excellent, follow me, please. Carol, if you’ll excuse us!” Chadwick finished, dragging Cris with him across the hall.

….

“Drink this, bro,” said Chad, handing Cris a glass of bourbon. He had pulled him into a locker room near the Club’s gym. The pompous and polite demeanor faded, replaced by a relaxed attitude and carefree vocabulary, which made Cris’s initial dislike for the guy diminish considerably.

“What you need to understand, now that you’re joining our circle, is that appearances are everything—the way you talk, the way you carry yourself, the way you dress… so this behavior won't help you Topper!” He continued, using that stupid nickname, apparently a bond between brothers or something, and no matter how much Cris protested, Chadwick was Chad, and Cristhian was Topper. After some failed attempts, Cris finally stopped objecting; after all, he intended to have as little contact as possible with Chad after that night.

“I don’t give a crap about that, Chad. My mom can commit this madness if that’s what she wants, which I still have a hard time believing. But once tonight’s circus is over, I’m going back to college without looking back.”

“I understand your indignation; I was also blindsided by my dad’s decision. My mom passed away less than a year ago. So understand, you’re not the only one upset here, bro. But my father is used to getting what he wants, and he wants your mother. He met her a few months back in court, oddly enough. She argued her case against one of our companies with such ferocity that it warmed something in the old man’s icy heart. Since then, he’s been courting her relentlessly until she accepted the proposal last week. It might’ve seemed sudden, but as I told you, my dad gets what he wants, when he wants,” concluded the boy, bitterness creeping into his voice. This earned him a few more points with Cristhian. Maybe not everyone there was that awful. But still full of indignation he continued to complain.

“I don’t understand why my mom didn’t tell me anything; it’s not like her.”

“Bro, you know how women are; no one can predict their crap.”

To avoid an unwanted discussion with someone he was trying to create some kind of sympathy with, Cris let the sexist comment slide.

“Still, I don’t understand why I need to wear this!” he said, looking at a suit identical to his future “brother’s.”

“Appearances, brother. Coming here poorly dressed not only tarnishes you, but also your mom, my dad, and our family name. Come on, try it; I bet you’ll feel a lot better.”

With one last sigh, Cris began to undress. As he prepared to put on the pompous outfit he suddenly found himself very close to a grinning Chad, holding a bright red gem in his hand.

“Not yet, Topper; first, we need to make some changes.”

The stone began to emit an intense glow. Afraid of what he was seeing, Cristhian tried to escape. But suddenly, his legs went rigid and immobile, as if glued to the ground.

“What the hell is going on? What are you doing?”

“Silence, now is your time to listen. You will only speak when I say so.” Cris felt his lips tighten, not painfully, but still totally unable to form a sentence; his vocal cords incapacitated from producing any sound.

“I like you, Topper, really, you’ve got some guts. I think we could still be real brothers. But the way things are, it won't work. Do you know why? Because of what you are. Or what the people who matter think you are. And do you know what they think, Topper? I’m sure many in that hall looked at you and thought: a nobody. But what they haven’t thought of is what you really are—an opportunity.” Chad continued, grinning with a disturbing glint in his eyes, reflecting the gem strange glow.

“Have a seat,” he said, pointing to a bench. And Cris felt compelled to sit down, the movement returning to his legs. But when he tried to turn and run, he ended up sitting right where Chad instructed him.

“Such a good boy,” sneered Chad, the red gem held in his hand.

“You know what that is, Topper? That’s why your fierce mother became a trophy wife-to-be. And that’s also the key to the future—mine and yours, bro. So I guess I owe this version of you an explanation.

“This stone has been in my family for generations, passed down from father to son, ensuring our lineage, our money, and our name continue to live on. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the reason old Dorrance Sutterland, the founder of our line, got his passage on the Mayflower. But I confess, for some generations, the Sutterland men have used it for more… mundane purposes. When you have everything money can buy, it’s hard to find something that really needs the use of this little beauty.”

“I didn’t lie to you when I said my dad met your mom in court a few months ago; that’s the absolute truth. And I wasn’t lying when I said he tried to woo her either; he did… but was rebuffed, which only ignited the fury inside him even more. And the more the fire inside my father grew, the more the desire to dominate and extinguish his mother’s flame consumed him.”

“You see, this stone has power over reality itself; there’s nothing it can’t do, with few limitations. The curious thing is that my dad doesn’t know this; my grandfather never told him all its potential. To him, it’s only capable of influencing people’s minds, shaping their wills, and even redefining their personalities. But he never suspected it could do so much more.”

“It’s all because my dad has always been a huge jerk. With his stupid rules, his obsession with control, his insufferable rigidity—and the biggest problem of all, his boredom. My grandfather would’ve loved to use the stone on him, but that wasn’t possible; that’s one of the limitations of the stone’s power—it doesn’t work on men of our lineage. We’re the only ones who can use it, but never on ourselves, although there are some interesting ways to at least partially circumvent these rules. Furthermore, each Sutterland man can use it only once in his lifetime.”

“So, my grandfather was forced to live with his boring son, who, despite having a great knack for finances, always showed a total inability to enjoy the pleasures of our way of life. So, as a small form of revenge, he withheld essential info from my father but told me everything, as I was a much better heir to our legacy.”

“My father used his chance with the stone to turn your mother into his trophy wife, Topper. After all the speeches, all the scolding, all the talk of responsibility, he used the stone to win over a woman, just a few months after my mother died! How undignified is that? And when he refused to hand me the stone, he even had the audacity to repeat the usual litany.”

“The same litany that isolated me my whole life, that prevented me from having a true friendship, from living the life I’m entitled to. For my dad, everything I wanted was frivolous; everything was a waste. And everyone looked at me with pity, pity for the poor rich boy. Of course, my peers accepted me and never had the heart to do anything to me; I’m a Sutherland, and that name means a lot. But not even that name can create a real bond. Maybe if my dad had put me in a boarding school, things would’ve been different; maybe some real friendship could’ve been established. But no, I needed to be under his constant surveillance.”

“While my buddies are enjoying their holidays in Ibiza or the Alps, I’m stuck sitting next to him in a dusty office! Even my frat brothers, as much as they talk about the unbreakable bond that unites us, don’t really see me as one of the guys; they respect my name and my position, but it’s clear I’m among them because I’m a legacy. Can you imagine how it feels to see all your ‘brothers’ getting ready for Spring Break, knowing you won’t be able to make it? My dad denied me not only my grandfather’s name but also the opportunity to live my life the way it should be lived by our people—with respect for traditions, sure, but above all, with fun. Yes, with fun! What’s the point of having mountains of money if you can’t enjoy yourself? That’s all I want, Topper—fun!

“You don’t have the slightest idea how much I wanted to get my hands on the stone, but the old man took precautions to keep it away from me, as if I didn’t have my own means. And today, thanks to this outrageous engagement dinner, I finally managed to get my hands on it. And thanks to you, Topper, I’m finally going to find a way to enjoy my life the way I deserve!”

So, put a metaphorical smile on that face because you’ll be enjoying everything with me, bro!” he sighed, concluding his long villainous monologue with a maniacal grin.

Christian, motionless, lips sealed, listened to all that madness, unable to believe it. That was impossible. But so was his current situation. And the story, as absurd as it was, provided an explanation for his mother’s altered behavior. Still, that was all impossible, wasn’t it?

“My grandfather informed my father of specific rules and ways of speaking and ordering the stone, instilling a fear of what might happen if those safeguards were not used, in addition to the obvious omission of its full power. My grandfather was diligent in his revenge, Topper. Thanks to him, my dad lost his chance to achieve something truly extraordinary, but I won’t lose mine. The stone doesn’t need specific and detailed orders; those things only limit its functioning. It’s intimately connected to the deepest desires of its bearer, so just ask, and it will provide. Goodbye, Cristhian; welcome, Topper, bro!” he concluded.

The stone began to emit an intense red glow in great waves, which, in Cristhian’s vision, seemed to distort everything around him, with Chad’s hand becoming a blur.

“That shit was real,” was his last coherent thought before being enveloped by the red light.

…..

Memories came in waves—totally alien to his identity but intrusive, forcing their way in. Two blonde toddlers, so alike you’d think they were twins, in an elegant living room, arguing animatedly about whose father owned the bigger yacht, eliciting giggles from two pretty blonde women, their mothers.

“Yes, he and Chad knew each other from the cradle. No, no, what the hell was that?”

“Their mothers were best friends, college roommates, and in the same sorority, and their fathers had common business interests, so it was natural that the friendship extended to their kids.”

“No, his father had been a college professor, not a businessman, and his mother had never been in a sorority. And for God’s sake, what kind of spoiled brat talks like that?”

Seemingly the same kind of kid who spends their afternoons on the tennis courts at the Country Club while their parents excitedly discuss business. Occasionally pausing to flash an approving smile in his direction, in Cris’s… Topper’s case. Or a stern look in Chad’s.

“Uncle Archibald was always a pain in the ass, but spending time with Chad and Dad was awesome.” It was the thought that popped into Cris’s head while that memory solidified.

Thinking about his father brought up an old and painful memory of Cris, which was quickly overridden by the overwhelming power of the stone. The memory of a thin, brown-haired boy, on a cold winter afternoon, feeling lost and alone was replaced by that of a blonde boy, physically active but with the same feelings of sadness marking his face. But that gradually faded when he felt his best friend’s hand on his shoulder, a warm feeling spreading through his body, knowing he had someone with him.

Although that feeling was interrupted by a flash of irritation when he saw his “Uncle” Archibald whisper something in his mother’s ear. His father had just died, and there was ambitious old Archie harassing his widow, no doubt imagining a way to cash in.

Cris struggled with the conflicting and confused feelings inside him; he knew that none of that was real—not the anger at a man he didn’t know, not that great friendship, not that warmth. But at the same time, it would’ve been nice to have a friend by his side when his father passed away… it had been so nice…

After his father’s death, Cris became responsible, at least in name, for the family’s legacy. His mother, contrary to what one might think, was a true lioness; she took over her late husband’s business with great interest, expanding the family fortune and ensuring every wish of the heir was granted. But at the expense of the son’s loneliness. Christopher Lauder Hawthorne IV, Prince Topper, fourth of his name, heir to a fortune, surrounded by everything he could want... and alone. The exception was his friend Chadwick Sutherland, but even if the two wanted to spend all their time together, that wouldn’t be possible. But his mom made it happen! He didn’t know what kind of deal she made with Archibald, but sometime after his dad died, Christopher, along with Chadwick, was sent to a boarding school.

What would have been torment for other boys was liberating for both of them. Away from his father’s stern gaze, Chadwick enjoyed life for the first time, while Christopher found in his friend a true brother. There was nothing Topper wouldn’t do for him. The two formed a beautiful pair—handsome and charming—soon surrounded by a growing group of friends. Topper, with his outgoing ways and the certainties in life that only the very rich or the very foolish possess, and Chad, with a more cunning way of thinking, but still eager to have as much fun as possible. Leaders among their own.

But anyone who thought those boys were stupid was dead wrong; Chadwick could never let his grades slip, under penalty of losing the ironic freedom the school had granted him. As for Topper, well… he had Chad to help him with the complex stuff and a mom willing to overlook her precious son’s academic incompetence. Even more so when it became clear that the boy had a natural talent for sports when they joined the school’s lacrosse team, which soon morphed into a passion for all sports they could participate in. Topper’s tactical ability on the field and court demonstrated something his poor academic record failed to do: he was incredibly intelligent and capable when he wanted to be. The truth is, most of the time he just didn’t care. The exception was sports, which became a true obsession, which Chad shared to a slightly lesser extent.

As a result, the two muscular men who finished school barely resembled the two boys they once were. Topper cherished the photograph taken with his friend after their team winned the intramurals.

No, no, no! I’ve always been a good student; I have no idea what the rules of lacrosse are. I’ve never been to boarding school, and I’m certainly not some pretentious mountain of muscle who thinks he has the world at his feet," Cris thought.

"But I am," Topper replied, making Cris freak out, not knowing where the strange voice inside his head came from, while new memories flowed.

With the end of school and before college, which both boys would attend together, Archibald decided he wanted Chad by his side to instruct him in the truths of life or some such nonsense. As if Topper would let his brother be stuck in an office all summer. Negative. The two of them would have fun, even if he had to kidnap Chad to do so. Which wasn’t necessary, because once again, Carol Lauder Hawthorne used her magnificent powers of persuasion to ensure her beloved son had his best friend with him during those vacations, where they explored the Old Continent together, taking yacht trips through exclusive islands across the Mediterranean, a brief pause to ski in the Swiss Alps, and the cherry on top: the craziest sexual experiences in Eastern Europe.

“Ah man, the flexibility of that girl in Prague,” Topper reminisced fondly about that particular night.

“I’ve never been to Prague, or on a yacht, or in the Mediterranean, and I’d certainly break my legs if I tried skiing,” Cris argued.

“Nonsense, I’m a natural athlete,” Topper replied.

“But I’m not you,” Cris shot back, finally losing the ability to perceive the strangeness of the situation.

“Of course you are, you idiot. Who else would you be if not me? I’m such a dumbass!” Topper laughed inside Cris’s head, echoing:

“A dumbass, he he he.”

And suddenly, he also burst out laughing, their laughter mingling as if they were one.

After an unforgettable summer, college time finally arrived. Continuing the established partnership, the boys rented a luxurious apartment near the campus. Archibald had the nerve to try to send Chad to a shared dorm, as if Topper would allow it. He’d never agree to live in a dorm; he deserved the best, and the best was having Chad by his side. This time, Carol’s intervention wasn’t necessary; Archibald simply wasn’t informed of the arrangement, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t bother him. Of course, such an arrangement would be temporary. Both boys were legacies and would soon be inducted into their parents’ old fraternity.

Chad had no option but to choose business-oriented subjects to study, knowing ahead of time that his major would be in business. Topper briefly considered studying sports sciences due to his love of sports, but it wasn’t like he needed it, so why bother? He then decided to enroll in the same subjects as his friend without worrying much about it. After all, college was much more than listening to half a dozen stilted old-timers; it was about making contacts, having new experiences, and above all, having fun!

“But I’m a great student, and business? I’m going to be a writer, aren’t I?”

“Ha, I couldn’t even write the grocery list if I didn’t have someone to do the list and the shopping for me… and great student? I’m always great, even if the grades say otherwise. If I tried a little harder, I know they’d be a lot better, but it doesn’t make any difference in my life.”

“No, education is important!”

“Of course it is; that’s why I studied at the best schools and went to college. But those things only get you so far. When you want to go further, your name and your contacts do more for you than any major.”

Speaking of contacts, Chad and Topper were perfect fraternity material. The two made it through Hell Week unscathed, quickly rising within the organization.

Now, nearing the end of their junior year, the two held positions on the chapter’s board, strong competitors to assume the presidency.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Topper knew that one day he’d have to take responsibility for the family business, but he had no interest in taking on any real responsibility before it was necessary, and he wouldn’t let his best bro do it. Archibald would certainly put pressure on his son, having been president in his day, even if the sour old man never understood anything about what fraternal life really was. No, it was Topper’s duty to make sure his friend had some kind of fun. Helping organize the parties, managing the house, and guiding the newcomers, showing them the path to follow, was more than enough. Man, how he loved to see the terrified looks on the pledges when the blindfolds were taken off, and it was his face they saw first, not knowing they were looking at the guy who would make them men—the right kind of men. They were a family, after all, and he took great pride in being the cool big brother role model.

“It would’ve been nice to have so many friends, to feel part of something.”

“Yeah, man, I love this.”

However, not everything had been perfect; unexpectedly, the angel of death struck the pair of friends again. Sybil, Chad’s mother, died of a sudden illness. And suddenly, Topper found himself in the opposite position from so many years ago. Chad was a grown man and not a boy, yet Topper saw his long-ago image reflected in his friend’s sad eyes on the day of the funeral.

The funeral forced Chad to present himself in a way that his father found appropriate, making him say goodbye to the long hair and stubble he had developed in his time away from him. Topper, as a good friend, supported him, even though he didn't care in the slightest about the grumpy Archie's opinion. Knowing the power of a helping hand, he stayed by Chad’s side the entire time. This was a pain that could only be eased with time, so Topper decided to numb it the best way he knew how. That night, he took Chad to a bar with the intention of drinking him into a stupor.

“Thanks, bro. I don’t know what I’d do without you by my side… Oh god, I’m sounding like a crybaby.”

“Chad, your mom just passed away; today you have the right to look like a crybaby, dude. Which doesn’t justify you being one for all the years we’ve known each other, bro,” Topper replied with a smile.

“Asshole…” replied Chad with a sad smile.

“Speaking of assholes, how’s Uncle Archie doing?”

“Being himself, if you know what I mean? You’d think his wife’s death would soften the old man, but no, he didn’t even give me a hug…”

“I’d hug you, brother, if it put a real smile on your face. But I think I have a better solution.” Topper pointed to a pair of beautiful girls standing on the other side of the bar.

“Oh man, I don’t know…”

“They’re hot, bro. Look, your mom would want you to get on with your life, and right now you need a distraction, soooo… blond or brunette?”

“Both!” Chad replied with his first real smile in a while.

That was a wild night. To avoid unwanted attention from the parents, they took the two women to one of Topper’s apartments in the city, and there, washed down with a lot of alcohol and weed, the four of them ended up in bed in a foursome.

“That was freaking awesome.” Said Topper.

“Yeah, dude, freaking awesome.” Agreed Cris.

Chad spent the next few months in a mood that ranged from depressed to euphoric, usually with a little help from Topper, but gradually improving. Until a new blow hit the duo. On a sunny afternoon less than a week ago, during a college break, as the boys rode through the huge Hawthorne property, they were called by Carol for a chat.

“Boys, an announcement is coming soon, but both Archibald and I would like you to know in advance. This summer, he and I are getting married.”

“What the hell is this, Mom? Are you kidding?”

“Language, Christopher. And no, I’m not kidding. I’d like you to think of it as a… business arrangement—a very beneficial arrangement for both parties.”

“A beneficial arrangement? Mom, we have more than enough money.”

“Christopher, my dear, I raised you better than that; there’s no such thing as enough money.”

“And Aunt Sybil? Your best friend’s body has barely cooled down, and you’re ready to swoop in on her husband. Sorry, bro!” Topper concluded when he remembered who he was sitting next to. But the friend didn’t respond, preferring to direct his attention toward Carol.

“How long? How long have you two been planning this… arrangement, Carol?” The “aunt” was unceremoniously dismissed.

“Archibald and I have been discussing this for some time, and it’s going to be very profitable.”

“Profitable and convenient, isn’t it? You’re still a young woman—not even forty yet. And I must say you hid it wonderfully well, but now looking closely, I can’t help but notice the signs. When can Topper and I expect our brother or sister to be born?”

“Chadwick! How can you say…”

“Drop the act; only something like this would make sense!”

“Okay, I really am pregnant; I never imagined this could happen. Boys, you must understand, nothing happened between me and Archibald while Sybil was alive. Chad, his parents were my biggest source of support after Topper’s dad passed away. Sybil was truly my best friend, and when she left, I felt… empty. Imagine how you would feel without each other? Archibald may seem cold, but he also felt her loss, and in our grief, we ended up supporting each other. One thing led to another, and one night after a few glasses of wine, we ended up…”

“Fucking,” interrupted Topper!

“Christopher, that’s enough; I’m your mother, and I deserve respect.”

“Respect? How can you talk about respect after telling us this?”

“Topper, it’s okay; she’s right; there’s nothing more to be done. Getting rid of the baby isn’t an option; the scandal if this story leaks… I imagine the wedding will be soon, to allay suspicions, although it’ll probably still raise some eyebrows…”

“Yes, it’s the best arrangement we could come up with. Christopher, my dear, I’m really sorry, but it’s for the best. Besides, you always wanted a brother.”

“I already have a brother,” he replied, looking towards his friend.

“Yes, Christopher, and now you will indeed be brothers for real. Think about it. And you, Chad, Topper told me all about how you feel about Archibald, and I’m no idiot despite what anyone might think; I see the way he treats you. I can be a very powerful ally; never underestimate my powers of persuasion, especially when I’m carrying Archibald’s son. You may not believe it, but all his behavior comes from the hopes and expectations he has. It will be very good for you to have someone to share that weight with.”

“Just think about it, brother. We will be real brothers, on paper and in life, and with one more of us on the way. Doesn’t look so bad. Even more so if that way you can get your dad off your back,” Topper said, letting himself be carried away by his mother’s notorious power of persuasion without realizing it.

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be so bad, not really, brother,” Chad concluded, smiling back at his friend.

And so the two ended up at that event at the Country Club, where they had spent most of their lives, commemorating the future union of their parents, which would formalize their status as brothers. Topper arrived late, and accompanied by his friend, went to the locker room to put on appropriate clothes before heading to the ballroom. And now the two of them were there, face to face. Topper looking down at his friend’s distorted hand, the glowing red stone emanating constant waves.

“Quite a… quite a story… but… it’s not real… none of it is… real.” Cris reappeared, gathering what was left of his energy.

“Dude, of course, it’s real. If you want it, it’s real; I want it, and I’m you, so it’s real!”

“No… I’m not you… you’re an… invention, you’re nothing but… a rich asshole… who thinks he owns the world… who thinks… has… the world at his feet… your life is all about money… and… parties and…”

“And fun, and not worrying about tomorrow, and friends, real friends, and a mother who does whatever I want, and a brother—a real brother who was always there for me… how could that be something bad?”

“No… no… no… it wasn’t real… no… it couldn’t… be real…” Still, new memories rushed toward him, like a giant wave of red, flooding every inch of his consciousness until there was no empty space left.

Chad studied the face of the young man with glazed eyes and an empty expression sitting in front of him.

His hand burned with heat as he gripped the stone, and he couldn't help but think that maybe it was too much, that maybe he had messed up beautifully.

“It has to work, it has to work…” he muttered. Then the stone emitted its most wave, momentarily blinding him. Upon regaining his sight, he found himself in front of a completely different man. Sitting naked before him was an example of male perfection. A face that looked like it was carved from marble, golden hair in beautiful curls, with the broad, defined musculature of someone who could easily be a fitness model. For a moment terror dominated him, as it seemed that Christopher tried to resist the process with greater intensity, however it did not last more than an instant as another waves come and soon the gargantuan figure that replaced Cristian began to feel and test his gigantic muscles almost automatically with a distant and unfocused look, gradually being replaced by one of extreme confidence and arrogance. If Marvel ever decided to reboot Captain America, the man in front of him wouldn’t be a bad choice—except for the fact that he’d never put himself in that position… unless he thought he’d have fun with it.

And how did Chad know that? He knew this because he suddenly remembered a whole new life, which made his previous life look pale and gray—all thanks to the man in front of him, Topper, his best friend, his brother! And with a smile on his face, he woke him up to reality:

“Hey bro, you okay?”

“What? Chad, bro, sorry I kind of zoned out; damn jet lag. But it was worth it; you should’ve gone with me; Brazil is everything we were told.”

“Not everyone can afford to fly all the way to Rio and hook up with a supermodel whenever they want, bro.”

“True, but we can.”

“Speak, for you, brother.”

“I speak for both of us. If there's one good thing to come out of this whole situation, it's that my mom will get Archie off your back, and we'll finally be able to enjoy life the right way,” Topper concluded while opening a closet and pulling out some clothes. Putting on pristine white boxer briefs, more immaculate than a virgin's soul, but which ironically would make many virgins fall into sin just by looking at the man wearing them. Before putting the other garments he flexed both arms and admired himself in the mirror. “I’m so swole, man.”

“Something had to make up for the lack of brains, brother!”

“You only say that because you're jealous of me, tiny boy.”

"I wouldn't call anything about me tiny.”

“True, but nothing compares to my size, little brother!”

“Some of us prefer classic beauty, Topper.”

“And some of us decided to be real men, Chad.”

That was Topper's mocking response as he walked past his “brother" and gave him a playful pat in the groin.

“Dude, leave the gems alone!”

"Stop being a whiner, I wouldn't do anything to hurt my future nephews," Topper said as he admired himself... again. “Dude, I’m fucking hot!”

“I didn't know jt lag caused brain damage, bro. I thought we'd already been through this whole discussion about your ridiculous handsomeness. Be careful; you don’t have much brain in that head of yours to waste.”

"Asshole, your envy doesn't faze me, try as you might," he replied, finally putting on his suit, the same shade of blue as Chad's.

“So how are the lovebirds doing? I imagine the news about him having another boy to torment has given Archie a break from his usual boredom.”

“Incredibly, yes. Your mother really has a hold on my father; he pestered me a lot less than usual. Although I don't think he's very happy about your delay."

“I couldn't miss the chance to see Archie's eyes pop, especially since he knows he has no power over me. Soon, he won't have any power over you, and I promise you, he won't have any power over that baby either. When he’s born, you and I together are going to show the little one how to live. Now come here, brother; you may not be as handsome as I am, but we still make a great pair.”

….

The two returned to the hall together, always attracting attention from everyone around, but they were used to being the center of attention, and frankly, they deserved it!

They found their parents sitting together at a table, and to both their surprise, Archibald looked more relaxed than they had ever seen him, while Carol turned to both of them with a Cheshire smile.

“Hey boys, we have news. But since Christopher took up so much time, maybe we should save it for another moment…”

“Carol, boys will be boys, so let them be.” Archibald intervened, making the two boys look at each other in disbelief. His expression seemed softer and less predatory than usual.

“Anyway, what Carol was trying to say is we've decided to have the wedding in early summer in Malta, and the good news is you're going a few weeks in advance to get everything ready. We count on you—don’t hold back on effort or money,” Archibald concluded, not seeing the sly smile that Carol gave behind his back, which made the boys' jaws drop—metaphorically, of course, since neither of them would commit such an indignity in public.

….

And so it was that in early July, Chadwick Sutterland found himself enjoying the best that life had to offer on an exclusive Mediterranean island alongside his lifelong best friend, Christopher Hawthorne IV. Thinking about a red gem and gray fading memories of a reality that, for the world, had never existed. He had done really well, in his own opinion. His father was dominated, so much so that he didn't even bother with his son's behaviour in the last months. He had a fierce ally ahead of his family business, even more so now that she was expecting a Sutherland boy, who, when the moment came, he would deliver that stone to be used in a time of need. An unforeseen but very favorable outcome, the stone indeed acted in the best interest of the wielder if its power was allowed to act freely. And the greatest proof of that was his best friend, the brother he had gained, who was at his side talking to him at that very moment.

“Hey bro, what’s with the serious face? You should be enjoying your first real vacation paid for with your dad's money, dumbass,” Topper said with a smile.

“Fine, you asshole,” Chad replied, assuring himself the stone was safe and looking at his brother. “Let’s have some fun!

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

All NSFW warnings apply in future chapters.

Author's note • After my recent rant, Ive decided to feed the girlies who want fics that align with canon Aemond. Sooooo Im coming home for my girls with an fire & blood timeline retelling & not just more boring ass Mary Sue × Aemond smut. So we are starting from the beginning. The vibe is, "I could make him significant worse".

Word Count ~ 1.4k

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi● vii ●viii ●ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

ii ~ 'Age of Hero's'

123 AC

It was not until later that night the young princess saw her uncle again. It took little effort to convince the Kings guard that she was not here to continue to jeer at the prince, but rather to give a sincere apology. At least, that is what she had told herself. It had not occurred to her, why or how men oft bended to her will. In truth, Visenya had little thoughts on such things, for all she knew, she asked and received accordingly – and if she did not receive, she would promptly sway until her desires were met.

It was this very naivety, this innate trust that the world would simply open its loving arms for her whenever she pleased, that worried her mother and father so dearly. Both knowing the ways of men, the violence and sickness that dwelled in her heads, most especially about a Princess of Valyrian blood. Seen less so for her heart and more for her blood born proximity to the God’s themselves. To power of fire made flesh, and of course. The beauty which came with Valyrian blood.

Visenya entered Aemond’s room quietly, and when she came before him, came before his body splayed out upon his bed she swiftly averted her gaze. The princess cleared her throat, a small noise of a disturbance left his mouth as he jumped, swiftly propping himself upwards.

“What are you doing in here? You ought-” His voice laced with outraged as The Princess interrupted.

“Temper yourself. I’ve not come to goad you. I just, I came to apologise.” A small laugh left her, she put her hand up.

“I do not give a shit.” Aemond snapped.

Visenya tilted her head, scanning him, “Fine. But I shall do so anyway.”

“Why?” Asked Aemond, the air teaming with uncertainty as he watched his sly niece walk slowly, stalking through his room like a cat.

“Because it is right, it is what is owed, and I’ve no intention being in your debt.” Visenya sighed, her voice almost aloof, smug. Her eyes look in the space, the perfectly kept books and scrolls upon his desk. The princess reached the dark mahogany desk that was seemly gleamed in the firelight. It seemed the prince had little taste nor need for decor, he seemed to only own objects for utilitarian purposes, he was so… conservative, Visenya thought. In fact, the only unkept thing was an open book, her pale fingers grazed the pages. Clearly, he had taken it from her Grandsire’s personal Library. She looked at the top, small writing detailing the topic ‘Age of Heros: Symeon Star-Eyes’. She had never heard of such a thing, her thoughts interrupted as another pale hand snatched the book away.

The prince’s eyes met hers with a venomous glare as placed the small book back upon his desk, “I find it difficult to believe you care about what is right.”

Visenya scoffed in response as she paced to the other side of the desk, her fingers as cunning as she as they found his book once more, “True. Perhaps I don’t, however it hardly matters. For even if I am saying it to benefit myself, my meaning is sincere.”

Frustration and rage tore through Prince Aemond as he then turned and stepped forward, who was she to dare apologise? After all this time, all these years of enduring her fucking bastard brothers torment? No, no Aemond would not tolerate it, he was not one to embrace pity. “I’ve no reason to accept your pathetic apology and I have no use for the rag of pity you continue to throw at me!” He snapped.

Visenya found herself taken aback by the fire in his eyes, she felt her own frustration boil as she bit back with equal fervour, “Yes, well perhaps you ought to! Since it seems I am the only one who is willing to throw it to you, and actually, unlike what you may think. I have little interest in hating you.”

“Do not lie.” Aemond stepped forward, his voice low.

“It is no lie. I do not hate you, we most certainly do not get along. But, I have little reason to hate you.” She shrugged, Visenya relaxed once more.

Though Prince Aemond could not tolerate it any longer, he would not take another drop of her insolence… her teasing, her lies! He snapped again, “You… you and your brothers torment me for your own amusement.”

“As does Aegon.” The Princess sneered, once again he had gotten himself into a state, she thought.

“I do not give a shit about Aegon! He is a fool and already a drunkard, and… and, well he is also my brother.” The prince wanted to push her, slap that smarmy sneer from her face. He stumbled upon his words, feeling more flustered, more overcome with the memories of all of his sister’s bastard’s torment. Their stupid, arrogant faces.

Visenya, ever cool, raised her brow, “So?”

“So, it is different.” He bit back.

Visenya stepped forward, folding her arms as she analysed him, by the Gods was he bothered. Still, she retorted back, “I dare say Aegon torments you for his own amusement far more than I. In fact, I do not torment you at all. They are mere jests!”

“Mocking me for not claiming a dragon is not a simple jest!” He had had it, the prince suddenly found himself unable to control it anymore, his hands came out before him, connecting with his niece’s chest as he pushed her back.

Visenya stumbled only slightly, she looked down and then swiped a stray hair from her face. Silence fell between them before a moment, a piercing silence. The soft breaths of Aemond to be heard as he tried to temper himself. A slight guilt filled him, but not for what he had done to the Princess, rather what may happen to him if his father found out. Or worst of all… if her father found out. The silence dragged, before shattered with the soft cackles of Visenya. Her face beaming.

“Gods…” She laughed, tilting her head back. Perhaps he was right, perhaps she did tease him for her own amusement. Tis his fault really, Aemond ought to learn how not to be so easily pestered, he ought to enjoy her attention on him. Only the Gods knows how many other boys try and fail to garner her interest. Yet it was him, who truly captured Visenya. A cruel smile rose to her face.

“Just get out!” Aemond snapped again, feeling a slight measure of weakness under her gaze. He reached forward, grabbing her wrist harshly as he forced her to the door,  

As he did so, Visenya cackled, enjoying this far too much, she laughed as she spoke, “Very well, I apologize for my lapses, and I will not speak on your lack of a dragon again, Uncle.” The door swung open and Visenya nearly gasped as she felt the firm grip of the Kings Guard outside his chambers grip her shoulder.

“Come, princess. The hour grows late, the both of you ought be in your bedchambers for the night.” The King’s Guard voice rang firm as he began to escort Visenya away, her eyes lingered upon Aemond once more, as she giggled.

The cheeky cackling of his niece could be heard through the prince’s heavy doors, Aemond wore a bitter expression. He was utterly infuriated, utterly exhausted… and utterly ashamed in his own inability to not give in to her teasing. He scanned his room, the firelight casting a soft orange glow, the air was warm, and it’s smell a comforting indication of embers. Aemond sat upon his bed once more, eyes sharp and pained, a part of him wished to crawl into the arms of his mother but he did not send for her. No, he would face this alone, he would not behave as the weak little bellyacher they all thought him to be. He would be strong, infallible; he would be a man.

Upon this thought, Prince Aemond rose up from his bed, approaching his desk once more as he longed to find comfort in the tales of great knights and ruthless warriors; to read of Symeon Star Eyes. Yet, as the young prince’s eyes met the mahogany surface, he felt his gut coil with rage once more.

His book had been swiped.

○iii○

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA Mezo Shoji x Reader - Make Believe - IV

Summary: You ask Shoji to pretend to be your boyfriend for a dinner with your parents.

Warnings: Long, multi-parted, slow burn, fem!reader, fluff, not proof read, angst

Stepping into the apartment made it instantly clear, that this wasn't a birthday dinner, it was a birthday party. Music played from the living room and you could hear laughter and conversation from every corner of the dwelling. In almost every crevice, there was at least a pair, usually more, cutting up and reminiscing on old times. There were cousins here you hadn't seen since early childhood. What was this all for?

Shortly after entering, your mother abandoned you to tend to whatever was in the kitchen, leaving you and the tallest person in the house to fend for yourselves. "Let's go in the dining room," you said, grabbing hold of Shoji's hand and pulling him along.

He silently nodded, feeling eyes on him from everywhere. He did truly stand out amongst your family, who mostly had emitter-type quirks if he had to guess. He could always count how many mutations he saw in any given space- something he'd learned from an early age. It was a tactic of knowing who to risk interacting with and who to avoid. He found that mutated people would find him...less unnerving.

Currently, he'd counted two people with mutations, but they looked nothing like you or your mother, so he had to guess that were were related by marriage. One was a young woman with a round head and abnormally large ears. The other was a small boy with a slender, rat-like vestigial tail- both cases of small, some might even say charming changes to a regular person's anatomy. This made Shoji feel even more freakish as he ducked into he dining room, seeing a large percentage of your family staring back at him.

The feeling, however, was lessened by the cheering that came with you entering with him; long-forgotten aunts, uncles, and cousins excited to see your face after such a long time of low contact.

"Well if it isn't our very own hero in training!" one man chirped, raising a glass. "Glad you were able to make it out to see us, don't go forgetting about us little folks when you hit the big leagues!"

"(Y/N)!" A little girl came running up to you, tugging on your pants. "Do you get to fight bad guys?!" You laughed sheepishly, explaining in the best way you could to fit a toddler's understanding what your training actually entailed.

Shoji couldn't help but feel warm watching you interact with your family. It was clear that they were all so proud of you and overjoyed to see you. To his dismay, however, the distraction of your presence from his didn't last long.

"So, kiddo, whose this uh..." the man spoke up again, raising his glass and tipping it towards your guest. "guy you brought with you?"

Your cheeks flushed as you quickly clung to Shoji's arm with a nervous smile. "Oh, how could I forget? Everyone, this is Shoji, my boyfriend!" It wasn't lost on said 'boyfriend' how your tone had changed this time around. It almost felt genuine. Almost.

"Boyfriend?" The man, one of your uncles sneered. "You're too little to be having a boyfriend, besides, you don't want anybody distracting you from going pro!"

You laughed in response, failing to sense Shoji's discomfort. "Uncle, it's not like that! Besides, Shoji's training to be a hero too! We want each other to succeed first and foremost."

"That's enough, son." An elderly voice called from the end of the table. Glancing over, your heart swelled with joy.

"Grandma!" you cheered, dashing over to sit beside her, engulfing her in a tight hug. "I miss you so much!"

"I missed you too, dear," she replied with a kind smile, patting your back. When you pulled away,. she reached forward, placing her hand on top of Shoji's.

"Now don't you pay my son any mind, young man." She reassured, eyes darting over to the said man. "He's had a few too many." It was at this point your 'beaux' realized the empty glass your uncle had been holding had tan foam collected at the bottom. It was beer. "You know, son, you outta be a lot nicer to this boy, he saved little (Y/N)'s life you know?"

Shoji wasn't sure what he'd expected your grandmother to say, but that sure wasn't it. He saved your life? When? "G-Grandma-!" you stammered, cheeks burning. "You don't have to bore them with the details!"

"Oh, no, dear, I do!" She insisted. "Don't you all remember when (Y/N) got her license to become a hero? That test she had to take?" There as collection of hums and variations of 'yes' from the crowd. "Well, that day, she called me up and she said 'Grandma! You'll never guess! During the exam, I was stuck in this trap and that handsome guy I told you about rescued me!'"

You definitely didn't tell the story like that, you cringed. She made it sound so mushy, it was like that at all!

"I don't remember that," Shoji, glanced down at you with a curious smile.

"I don't either," you grumbled. "I didn't say it like that."

"No need to be so grumpy, dear." your grandmother said, placing a hand on your shoulder. "It's alright, I think it's a romantic story."

You couldn't take this suffocation much more, feeling more humiliated by the second. Suddenly, you stood up, needing an out. "I-I think I hear Mom calling me from the kitchen, better go see what she needs!"

Before Shoji could stand to follow you, you'd disappeared. He blinked at your grandmother, confused, who beckoned him closer and he stole the seat you'd sat in and leaned closer to her. "That girl is just head over heels for you, know it?" She smiled kindly. Part of him wanted to ask if she was sure, not feeling like it was possible, but the other part of him knew that was the wrong choice. "I haven't told her yet, but my sickness has gotten worse," she confessed, looking past him, following the path you'd taken. "I won't have another birthday party, this is my last one. We wanted to make it special."

"W-With all due respect, ma'am," Shoji swallowed hard, shifting nervously in his seat. "Why are you telling me this instead of her?"

"I just wanted you to know you have my blessing." The old woman smiled, brighter than she had before, cradling one of his hands in her withered ones. "I'm content knowing my little girl is in good hands." She laughed. "And she can be a handful, but from the looks of it, I'd say youve got enough hands for the job."

Suddenly, this all felt heinous. How could he lie to this woman after she confessed to being on her last bit of time on Earth? He had to come clean. "M-Ma'am, there's something you don't know..."

"You aren't actually together, I know." she finished his thought for him.

"How did you...?"

"Some call it telepathy, I call it an old woman's intuition." She chuckled heartily. "But I'm not worried, I can see you care very deeply for my granddaughter, don't you, Mezo?"

He froze hearing his first name while knowing for a fact you hadn't introduced his full name when you came in. Obviously, the old woman had a mind-reading quirk. He chose to ignore it in favor of the bigger picture. "I-I..." he stammered, unsure of what the answer truly was.

"Only someone who cares would put themselves in the predicament you're in, am I right?" she rationed with a knowing smile as she sipped a cup of tea.

"I guess that makes sense..." Shoji finally admitted. "I guess I've always liked her a little bit, but I never really thought I had a shot."

"You've got more than a shot, son." She finally said. "You've got a guaranteed bullseye. Now just promise me one thing and I'll let you go."

"What's that?"

A tear slipped down the woman's wrinkled face. "Take care of my baby."

"I will," he lunged forward, enveloping her in a hug. "I promise."

Part I

Part II

Part III

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Daddy Knows Best, Part IV

Title: Daddy Knows Best, Part IV 

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: StepDad!August Walker x StepDaughter!Reader  

Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Fallout 

Word Count: 3.3K 

Summary: August Walker and your father were once friends. One mission, a single decision, made them enemies. August decides he needs to get his revenge. And what better way, than to become your new Daddy? 

Chapter Summary: Daddy and Babydoll deal with the police, and attempt to move on after the tragedy.

Warnings: pet names (Daddy, Babydoll, babygirl), age gap (the reader is 18, August is in his late-30s), loss of a parent (mother), police interrogation, Dom/sub vibes, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, dead dove: do not eat 

A/N: This is different from my usual fics. This would be considered dark!fic in every way possible. If you read the warnings and still choose to read, you are making your own decision. No one is forcing you to read this. This is an entirely self-indulgent therapeutic fic. Enjoy! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @saradika 

Support/Reblog banner by me 

Cover Art by me 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist 

You wake in your bedroom, the early afternoon sun shining through the curtains. You roll over on your side and expect to see Daddy but he’s not in the room. Deciding to take a shower and start the day, you rise and undress.  

As you wash yourself, you are suddenly hit with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness and loss. For a few moments, you were free. And then you remembered. 

Mommy’s dead. 

You saw her lifeless body floating in the swimming pool. That vision will probably never leave your brain. The last memory of your mother is of seeing her face down. The crystal-clear water of the pool marred with the sight of her. 

Even though you had a rough relationship with her, you still mourn the loss of your mother. With your dad out of the picture, you only had one parent in your life. And now she has been taken away from you. 

The water in the shower had gone a bit cold so you rinse yourself off and grab your towel to dry yourself. You dress in a black crop top with a sleeveless black plaid A-line dress on top of it. Pulling on some black thigh-high stockings and a pair of black platform Mary Janes, you embody the look of the mournful daughter. 

You look over yourself in the mirror and try smiling at yourself. Instead, a few fat tears roll down your cheeks and you let them fall before giving up on trying to fake happiness. Wiping your face, you settle for going to find Daddy. 

Once you leave your bedroom, you walk downstairs and are surprised to see that Daddy isn’t alone. Both men stand when you reach the bottom of the stairs, but the woman stays seated with a small smile on her face. Daddy holds out an arm for you to come join them. 

“Come on over, don't be shy. This is Detective Marshall. He came to talk about what happened to your mother,” He nods at my words, “And this is Rachel, she’s a psychologist who works with Detective Marshall.” 

I watch as Babydoll walks over and stands next to me, she greets our guests and then sits leaving space between us on the couch. That’s my good girl, don’t give them the chance to question our relationship. I sit down and gesture for Marshall to continue. 

“I think I’d like to continue with you in private, if that’s alright Mr. Walker. Perhaps Rachel may speak with your stepdaughter?” Marshall suggests and I agree to his terms. 

“Why don’t you take Rachel up to your room so you two can have a little chat?” I insist, patting Babydoll’s knee softly. 

Once she nods, she and Rachel make their way upstairs and I hear the door to her bedroom shut. I look back to Marshall and he is scribbling in his little green notebook. His eyes are harder when our gazes meet. 

“Just a few more questions and I will be out of your hair, Mr. Walker.”  

“Please, call me August. Whatever I can do to help.” I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and my hands clasped together. 

“I appreciate that, August. Uh, so you say that your stepdaughter was the first to see your girlfriend’s body. Where were you at this time?” 

“I was bringing in my luggage from my car. I made it to the kitchen and noticed the open patio door. When I walked toward it, I heard her scream and caught her as she passed out. I saw her mother in the pool and realized that she wasn’t moving. After putting my stepdaughter in her bedroom, I called the police.” I kept my face neutral, but my eyes welled up a bit and I blinked away tears. 

“So, you and your stepdaughter weren’t home when your girlfriend was killed. You two had been on a trip?” 

“Yes. I had been on a trip for work, but my stepdaughter didn’t want to be here alone with her mother, so I brought her with me. Their relationship has been a bit strained since the divorce about a year ago. She misses her father and I, no matter how hard I try, am barely a substitute for him.” That’s it, play the role of a loving stepfather. 

"You mentioned you work for the CIA, Special Activities. Is it safe for you to take your stepdaughter along on business trips in your line of work?” 

“She was never in any danger. No one knew our location or that she was with me. The safe house we stayed in was discreet and out of the way. The only time she was left alone was this morning, and it was just for a couple of hours. I’m sure you understand I can’t divulge the details of my assignment. But you are more than welcome to check in with my superior, Erika Sloane.” I fish her card out of my wallet and hand it to Marshall. 

“Thank you, August. As soon as Rachel is ready, we’ll be out of your way.” 

No sooner do those words leave his mouth, than Rachel is coming down the stairs with Babydoll in tow. I notice the smiles on their faces and wonder what they got up to while they spoke. As they come back into the living room, Rachel stands next to Marshall and Babydoll stands near me. 

“I think that’s everything. We’ll be in touch, August. Thank you for your time.” Marshall reaches out to shake my hand and he smiles at Babydoll. 

For a split second, my face betrays me as I slightly scowl at him smiling at her. But in the same breath, I steady myself and look at Rachel before shaking her hand. 

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” Rachel tilts her head at Babydoll and touches her shoulder. 

I walk the detective and his partner out and once the door is closed, I turn and make my way back to the couch. My perfect little one sits with her leg under her, her big doe eyes settling on me. 

“So, sweet girl, what did you and Rachel talk about?” 

You took Rachel into your room and closed the door behind her. She looked around and smiled at the various photos and knickknacks you had scattered about the room. She sat on the edge of your bed and patted the space next to her. You sat down and she began to ask questions right away. 

“So, you and your stepdad seem close. What was your relationship like with your mother?” 

“My mom and I were never all that close. I was a lot closer with my Nanny, while she was here. Um, I guess I’m more of a Daddy’s girl. Mom was never satisfied with me, I don’t think. She always wanted me to be better. At sports, at school, at everything. She wasn’t my biggest fan. And then after the divorce, I felt even more distant from her. Dad was gone and I was left with her. Then August started dating Mom and it was weird in the beginning, but he ended up being a nice guy. And he listened to me, and he would stand up for me when Mom was on my case. I didn’t hate my mom. I just wished she liked me.” You looked away from Rachel to wipe a single tear that threatened to fall from your eye. 

“Seems like August was your knight in shining armor.”  

“Um, yeah. He cares about me. He cared about my mom too. He doesn’t treat me like a kid like Mom did. I don’t mean to make my mom seem all that bad. She was doing the best she could, I know that. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. I hope whoever did this to her rots in a jail cell forever. Sorry, I’m just angry and upset. My emotions have been a bit off the rails.” 

“It’s perfectly normal to feel sad or livid or even bitter about death. With your relationship with your mother, I am not surprised your emotions are unsure of what to do. Sometimes, we might even feel like a weight is lifted off our shoulders when a certain person in our life is gone. Nothing of what you’re feeling is wrong.” Rachel tilted her head at you and smiled.  

“Thanks.” You returned the smile and went back to fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

"Do you feel safe here with August? I only ask as a precaution. Having you in a place where you feel safe is most important.” She put a hand over yours and you froze. What did she mean by that? 

“I feel more than safe with him. He’s never given me a reason not to trust him.” You suddenly felt defensive over August and you tried to keep yourself calm. 

“Good. I’m glad you have him to help you through this trying time. But if you ever need to talk, or even if you just need someone to listen, you can call me.” She pulled a business card out of her pocket and handed it to you. 

“I don’t know if I’ll have anything to talk about but thank you.” 

“Maybe something that you can’t talk to August about. Something that maybe only another woman would understand?”  

“Oh. Ok. Um, I will let you know if anything comes up.” You stood and put the card on your desk and Rachel stood as well. 

“Good. Any time, day or night. I’ll be available at that number. Use it whenever you need me. I think that’s all I need. Why don’t we go and rejoin the others?” Rachel went to your bedroom door and let you walk out first. 

You’re not quite sure about how to feel about your interaction, but at least you felt like you defended August well and even made a new friend. She seemed nice enough anyway. 

After she tells me everything that she and Rachel talk about, I feel a bit more at ease. Less like the detective thinks I murdered her mother, but more like his partner thinks something is going on between me and Babydoll. 

Which there is, but she doesn’t need to know that. 

Even if she did know, it isn’t illegal. She’s 18, a consenting adult, and she’s well taken care of. Not that I need to explain myself to anyone. 

“Babydoll, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Anything at all. Daddy is here to listen and to keep you safe.”  

“I know, Daddy. There is something...but, I don’t know.” She ducks her head and looks to the floor. 

I put a finger under her chin, lifting it so she can look at me. “Anything, Babydoll. You ask and I’ll make sure it gets done right away.” 

“Daddy, I...don’t want to live here anymore. All I can see around me is bad memories with Mom. Or old memories with...my father. And neither of them is in my life anymore. Does it make me a bad person that all I wanna do is move on? I feel weird even being in the living room, so close to where Mom died.” She plays with her fingers and looks down again. 

“Let me make a few calls, Babydoll. I’ll see if we can be out of the house by week’s end, alright?”  

“Thank you, Daddy. This means a lot.” She stands and wraps her arms around my neck in a tight embrace. I hug her back and lift her off the ground a bit and she giggles. The tuneful sound tickles my ears, and I am happy to be the cause of it. 

I kiss her cheek and send her up to her room to deflate. In the next few hours, I have a house lined up for us on the nicer side of town. Three bedrooms, three baths, finished basement, big backyard with an in-ground pool. A perfect place to start a new life. 

By the end of the week, we are finishing up moving all our stuff over to the new house. Other than a small crying fit that Babydoll has while she and I go through her parents’ belongings and decide what to keep and what to donate, the move was mostly hassle-free. 

One morning after a run to clear my head, I was surprised to have a visit from Detective Marshall, and this time he only wanted to talk to me. I let him in and ask Babydoll to give us some privacy. We talk for a short while about moving from the old house and how Babydoll is doing. I ask him to cut to the chase and he nods and tells me Babydoll’s father’s body has been found.  

He was discovered in a hotel room with substances in his system, along with a suicide note that included his confession to killing his ex-wife. At that bombshell, I’m visibly unnerved. Marshall reaches out a hand to my shoulder and apologizes for having to deliver this information.  

He makes a sort-of backhanded comment that my former partner must not have liked that I took his place in his family. I responded by saying it wasn’t appropriate to make assumptions about dead men. Besides, as his ex-wife told me many times, they were rocky well before I stepped in. Marshall also stated that since Babydoll’s father had confessed to the murder this case was now officially closed, and we could go ahead with a burial ceremony. 

I thanked him for relaying the news and escorted him to the front door. Before he left, he made sure I knew he would be keeping an eye on us. Seems the detective doesn’t trust me. I couldn’t care less, honestly. Let him try and pin this all on me. 

I mean, he could pin it all on me if he wanted to do so. It's not like he would be wrong in doing so.  

But I covered all my tracks and sealed them airtight. And with my record, they’d be ridiculous to come after me now that they have a confession and another dead body on their hands. 

I wait until the detective drives off in his large black Ford F-Series, leave my sneakers at the door, and then make my way up to find Babydoll. I find her sprawled across the bed in the Master bedroom, sketching something in her notebook. Technically, this is my bedroom and hers is down the hall, but she sleeps with me most nights. 

“What are you up to, Babydoll?” I ask, coming around the bed to sit next to her and peer into her notebook. 

She shuts it before I can get a good look inside, “It’s a surprise, Daddy. You can’t see it yet.” 

“Oh, I'm not allowed to see it yet, huh? Well, I guess Babydoll isn’t allowed to cum tonight then. How about that?”  

Fuck, I loved to tease her. She always made the cutest little pouty faces. 

“Daddy! No! Please may I cum tonight? I’ll do anything. Just, I was making you something special and I don’t wanna show you ‘til it’s finished. I don’t wanna ruin the surprise. Please?” There goes that little pouty lip of hers, it could make me agree to anything. 

“Ok, fine, Babydoll. But you’re gonna cum when Daddy says to.” 

“I can be a good girl for you, Daddy. I promise.” 

“There’s my good girl,” I lay back against the pillows after I shuck my muscle tank, joggers, and socks, “Show me that sweet little pussy while Daddy gets his dick ready for you.” I take out my length and start to stroke it while she pulls her panties down, laying on her back so she can show me how she plays with herself. 

Within minutes, her cunt is making those glorious squelching sounds I love so much while she fingers herself for me. I am beyond hard at this point and I am salivating just to get inside her.  

“Come up here and lay back Babydoll. Let Daddy have his turn now.”

She removes her fingers from her wet snatch and slides next to me. I take off my boxers and my cock springs up and bounces against my abdomen. Leaning over her, I position my dick at her entrance and slowly slide in thanks to the wetness she has accumulated. 

“Fuck, Babydoll, you are so tight. You feel so perfect around me.” I don’t stop until my balls are against her ass and our hips are flush together. I’ve molded this pussy to fit my shaft perfectly. Pulling out, I slam back in and am rewarded with her angelic little whimpers. 

I don’t necessarily need to last long; I just need to make sure I get her to her peak before I reach mine. I find a steady rhythm thrusting in and out of her tight heat that has her keening in my ear. Her arms are around my neck and her legs are wrapped around my waist. 

I can feel her core tightening around me, and I know she is close. Reaching a hand between us, I use my thumb to flick against her clit to push her over the edge. Her moans tell me everything I need to know. 

“Cum for me, Babydoll. Soak my fucking dick, sweet baby.” Not even a second later, I feel the tell-tale signs of her orgasm as her folds flutter around me and the dam breaks loose. She screams out and I can’t help myself. 

I fuck into her until I feel my balls draw up and then I slam into her heat one last time. I swear I was going to pull out and I almost did, but the warmth and the tight fit and my exhaustion from the run got the better of me. I came deep inside her as my cockhead sat against her cervix. I didn’t give a fuck about anything except the notion of her cunt holding me so perfectly as I blew my load. 

The only sounds in the room were of us catching our breath.  

Once I could move again, I lean up on my knees and pull back from where I collapsed on top of her. Holding her legs open, I let my length slip out. Soon, my massive load starts to rush out and I push all of it back inside her as she lazily smiles up at me. I smile at her then pull her into the bathroom with me to shower. 

She’s barely able to stand in the shower and I mostly hold her steady. We both get clean enough and I help her dry off then dry myself off and we make it back to the bedroom and lay back down in bed. I tell myself it is best to talk to her now about all this instead of waiting and possibly upsetting her. 

“Alright, Babydoll. Daddy just creampied you, I didn’t pull out this time. I came inside you. Now, in the morning, Daddy is gonna run and get you a plan B pill so that you don’t get pregnant. But I think it might be time that we get you on birth control so that Daddy doesn't have to worry about this kind of thing in the future.” I speak slowly and clearly so she knows that I have her best interest at heart. 

“Ok, Daddy. Can we take a nap now? I’m exhausted.” She is already rolling over on her side and throwing an arm across my chest. 

“Yeah, Babydoll, let’s take a nap.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder and kiss the top of her head. 

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking of her tummy round and swollen with my kid and her tits heavy with milk. But I know that’s just emotion talking. As much as I want to get her pregnant, right now it is far too soon after everything with her parents. 

Right? 

Part V (coming soon) 

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to get out, loves. Anywho, hope you enjoyed this. I still have more in me, I think. 

**Tag List** 

@winterschildren8 @raccoon-eyed-rebel @viking-raider @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @livisss @randomweirdoss @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @mrs-solo-walker [Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁] 

[jqmalikhsgib]

quest

nine

tik tok tik tok

the clock was definitely mocking you. waiting patiently for aaron to arrived while you sat across from the woman that was about to listen to you about your marriage, divorce, family, and more.

she just smiles at you. soon enough you sigh in relief when aaron walks into the room.

he clears his throat as he sits right beside you. “sorry im late.”

“that’s okay. shall we get started?”

aaron hums. “what brings you two in today?

the two of you look at one another. aaron was the first one to speak. telling the doctor your story. it made you uneasy when she just nods and writes down the information.

“how does that make you feel mister hotchner? finding out you have three other children that you didn’t know about?”

“in the beginning i was livid. knowing that she took two years away from knowing my children, our children! it made me angry. but i realized i was just angry at myself. i did this to us. i ruined that relationship.”

“how do you feel yn?”

“i feel guilty. maybe if i just—maybe if i just stayed and listen to reason none of this would have happened. i blame everything that happened in the last two years on myself. maybe then he wouldn’t have died.”

your biological father. aaron didn’t know you felt this way. you took all that blame. all that heartbreak that should have fallen on your dad. it wasn’t your fault. he needed you to know that this wasn’t your fault.

“darling, this isn’t your fault. none of this is on you. im sorry if i have ever made you feel like this was on you.”

“but you haven’t.”

“but i have though. ive been so short with you since you’ve been home. im not use to talking about how i feel.”

“why is that aaron?”

aaron turns to look at the doctor. he sighs. rubbing his hands onto his face.

“i would say it’s my job. that with what i do we always have to stay alert and keep how we personally feel aside. that may be the case but i think it’s deeper than that.”

“what do you mean?”

“growing up, my father, he wasn’t exactly a nice man. he would come home after working a case and he’d shut us down. verbally abusing us until we felt small and weak. he would call us that too if i recall. my mother was never really around. she didn’t really want children. my father was a traditional man though. marriage, kids, you name it. the physical abuse didn’t happen until he was sick. cancer. my mom would come back home just to take care of him. i assumed he felt emasculated. having his wife take care of him because he was getting weak by the day. so he took his anger out on sean and i. i took the most of it. not wanting my brother to suffer like that. if i showed any sighs of weakness while he hit me it’ll just make him angrier and hit harder. over time i became emotionless to his rage. that angered him even more. over time he—he was too weak to hurt a fly. my mother continued to take care of him while i took care of my brother. eventually my father died. we didn’t even have a proper funeral. just buried him next to my grandfather who beat him before because despite everything, that’s what he wanted. he still loved him. and in a way, i still loved my father. he was still my dad despite everything. but i showed no emotions. it’s not what he would have wanted. my brother on the other hand cried.”

“what about your mother?”

aaron scoffs. “she fell out of love with him the moment she married him. my father was known for cheating on my mom. she didn’t care much. she was different from my father. she grew up wealthy. only marrying my father because she got pregnant with me. her father forced them into marriage so she wouldn’t be labeled as the town whore and ruin their reputation. my father worked hard for his money. growing up lower middle class he had to. in a way my relationship with my mom was far worse than my father. at least my father showed some kind of affection. my mom was emotionless. only caring about her reputation and how she was perceived. i believe that’s why she took care of my father in the first place. instead of hiring someone to do it. so she could brag to her posh friends about how much of a great wife and mother she was.”

“is she still living today?”

aaron hums. “haven’t spoken to her since she met my late wife, haley. she didn’t like haley. never wanted me to marry her.”

“why’s that?”

“because—because she wasn’t as wealthy as us. she was middle class, haley. because of that my mother didn’t find her worthy. she didn’t want me to have a loveless marriage like hers. her words exactly. she doesn’t know a thing about my life. she doesn’t know about jack, haley’s passing, me getting remarried. nothing!”

“do you think she’d like yn?”

aaron avoids your eyes. he wanted to avoid the question altogether. he knew she wouldn’t. why is what pissed him off and made him feel ashamed.

“aaron?”

he clears his throat. “no.”

“and why not?”

“because—my mom wasn’t racist. not in the sense you would think. she never called anyone who was of color a slur. but she was raised to believe that you should marry your own kind of people. that mixing up your ‘values’ with others would only confuse your children in the end.”

you had no idea aarons mother was that way. only knowing the details he explained about his father. he never talked about his mom. now you understand why.

“aaron, i had no idea. why didn’t you tell me?”

“because i felt ashamed. ashamed of having her as a mother.”

“you shouldn’t feel that way though aaron. she doesn’t speak for you or for our kids.”

aaron holds your hand.

“listening to you both and hearing your family history, i think it’s safe to say that you, yn, you have a hard time listening to others. you’re so afraid to find out the truth because it could potentially hurt you. it’s why you stopped talking to your siblings in the end. you knew they knew something about your father. it’s why you ran when your biological father told you the truth. and it’s why you left aaron. you were afraid if he came home that night and you pressed him on the issue he would admit his feelings for his ex wife and leave you. it’s why you left first. you didn’t wanna face the reality that the one good thing in your life for the longest time would end.”

you look at aaron. knowing what she was saying was absolutely true.

“and you aaron, you’re afraid of being yourself. showing any emotion is a sign of weakness all because of your father. you also don’t wanna end up like him. to raise your kids that way. it’s why you most likely teach them it’s okay to express themselves. showing them that having emotions and feelings is part of being human. you have this fear that your marriage could fail again and maybe your mother was right. maybe mixing classes and culture could ruin a marriage. but it makes you feel guilty. one of the reasons why you pushed your first marriage away and tried to push your second marriage away.”

aaron grabs your hand. he gently rubs it. feeling all kinds of guilt with what the doctor states.

“but neither of you are seeing the reality of it all. you both willingly came to therapy because you want to fix this marriage. you want this to work out. not only for the kids. but also for yourselves. i noticed that the moment the both of you spoke. have you ever stopped to notice you’re both still wearing your wedding bands? and you still call each other husband and wife, despite being divorced for the last few years? it’s because a piece of paper doesn’t determine your love for one another. you two are still married and have been even with the separation.”

the two of you look at one another lovingly. you loved each other. despite the past, despite your childhood, despite the divorce, the drama! you loved him and he loved you.

i changed the story title and also made a playlist! each part will have a new song added to it. it will be titled the same as the song

anyway there is a tiny bit of a foreshadowing here so 👀

hoped you enjoyed

if you wanna be added or unadded to the taglist please let me know

taglist:

@ivebeenthearchersstuff @shergoretzxx @slut4ethan @rosiehale23 @madesavage05 @whotfskai @vodkori @zaddyhotch @14buddy22

[commsroom]

happy birthday! ive been meaning to ask for a while if you have any spare minkowski thoughts, just in general. if not, are there any other characters in w359 that you see as trans or queer?

thank you!! sorry for not getting to this one on my birthday; i've been trying to come up with some minkowski thoughts for you, but i'm not sure if they'll be new!! one of my favorite things about minkowski is how much she really, truly has "guilty pleasures" in the most typical sense. when emma sherr-ziarko said the track name "minkowski watching 50 shades of gray with a tub of ice cream and enjoying it nonironically" informed her perception of the character, etc. i love that. all of the best characters are self-contradicting in very real and human ways, and minkowski has a ton of that. her love of musical theater gives us such insight into her interior world; she treats so much of her life like these separate, practiced "roles" to play, as if there can be clear divisions between them.

minkowski is a great leader, but she's not a natural leader, and - in fact - everything that does ultimately make her a person worth following is completely at odds with how she tries to lead, or how she thinks it's supposed to be done. i think she was in a dozen different clubs in high school, but didn't really have friends. i think she could get really into historical reenactment (and i would love for eiffel, hera, and minkowski to go to a ren faire - i think they'd all enjoy that, but for very different reasons.) i think minkowski earnestly believes in the concept of a "cheat day" and marks when she allows herself to eat a whole bunch of ice cream on her calendar - this is horrifying to eiffel, but she finds it sincerely motivating. i think minkowski's interior decorating sense is at least 30% more "live, laugh, love" than anyone else around her would be able to take seriously. she's the kind of person who needs everything in her house properly labelled and put away in the same place every time. eiffel is the kind of person who leaves everything out, all over the place, and forgets it exists if someone puts it away. making them live together is hilarious. i think minkowski likes romcoms and hallmark christmas movies; she's easily moved by very sappy media, and very defensive / embarrassed about that. she's used to being mocked for her taste, and for how it goes against her image as a career military woman. i do not think hera would share her taste in movies at all, but minkowski + hera girls' night is very important to me.

what else... oh!! i've talked to my friend @hephaestuscrew a lot about minkowski's parents, and i agree with the assessment that they are probably... pretty laid back? like, the kind of people who encouraged her to be whatever she wanted to be - the pressure she puts on herself to make something of herself is the kind of person she is, and a message she got from the world at large more than her parents, i think. her dad's first name has an anglicized spelling as well, so i think there's something kind of... well, there's something that rings true about minkowski trying to hold onto these parts of her heritage that her parents aren't as concerned about. koudelka's a czech name; we don't know anything about him, but i wonder if maybe she made that connection with him at least partially because they were both american children of (at least one) eastern european parent(s) in paris. and her mother is french, she learned french before she learned english, but we don't really know if she spent time in france before that. there's a sense of displacement to that.

(as for the other part, well... i'm not sure! obviously jacobi is gay, and i would generally agree lovelace and maxwell are as well. i think eiffel is technically bi, but he's straight culture bi. i think it would be difficult to get minkowski to really examine her sexuality. whatever kepler's sexuality is, i think he's done his best to close himself off from any sincere desire. my thoughts on hera's sexuality would require a whole other post, but obviously i read her as trans. there isn't really anyone else i think of as trans, but that's not to say it's impossible - they're mostly military or military-adjacent people born in the 70s and 80s; by and large i think they're coming to these topics of identity from a different perspective from those of us on tumblr dot com. but i think doug eiffel is one of the most cis characters i can imagine.)

[eve-to-adam]

What do you like about the Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville ships? How do you evaluate their emotions?

Hello!

This is a rather difficult question, because the answer can be quite complex. But I will try to be as concise as possible.

I will start by saying that Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville are in my top five favorite historical couples. I will approach the subject from an artistic, subjective point of view, since my answer is based on the ideas I have formed about their personalities. Just like writers - and some historians - we visual artists use academic information, which we combine with our own point of view, to create situations, to shape personalities, using various contexts to impose a certain scenario that is in line with our expectations and aspirations. So it is impossible for me to talk about the emotions of people who lived a few hundred years ago, because I don't know them, but I could talk about their emotions from a perspective that is more along the lines of "what I wish this had been… / what I think those emotions would mean".

Many of us would call this fiction.

The first thing that fascinated me about this couple is the context itself. For me, this is fertile ground for interpretation. I like the subjects that make me say: "What if…?" The young King, newly ascended to the throne, falls in love and marries a woman considered far inferior to him, making her Queen. A Prince-meets-Cinderella-type-of-situation. Let's be serious - what were the odds? Regardless of how these two people ended up meeting (the scenarios are quite varied), the fact that they formed a couple remains a fact. Edward had already had three female suitors for the role of Queen Consort - all of whom he rejected sooner or later - and ended up choosing Elizabeth. Of course, this decision also carried a certain political weight, as Elizabeth, through her mother, Jacquetta of Luxembourg, could call on the support of her relatives in Burgundy, who at that time were competing with France for England's friendship. Whether this decision had anything to do with Edward's desire to separate himself from Warwick's influence is not clear.

Side note: (It seems unfair to me to blame all of Edward's problems on her and her family. Like any ambitious woman, she made sure to create a power base for herself in the Kingdom. Certainly the promotion of her relatives to important positions created friction between the nobility and the King, although I doubt that Elizabeth was able to appropriate everything without Edward's consent or even his encouragement - after all, both were aware of the measures that had to be taken to maintain the appearance of royalty. The Queen's relatives had to be treated accordingly. Thank you.)

So. He marries her. It is debatable whether Edward would have acted in the same way even if Elizabeth had brought him absolutely no benefit. Undoubtedly, sexual attraction played an important role, at least in Edward's case:

"… as she was both fair and of a good favour, moderate of stature, well made and very wise, he not only pitied her, but also waxed enamoured on her. And taking her afterward secretly aside, began to enter in talking more familiarly."

Which side would he have taken first - the politician or the lover? Edward was a complex man, often proving unpredictable, which I find fascinating. Thomas More, consulting with those who knew Edward, wrote of him:

"He was […] of heart courageous, political in counsel, in adversity nothing abashed, in prosperity rather joyful than proud, in peace just and merciful, in war sharp and fierce, in the field bold and hardy."

Although such details are not known or historically attested, I like to think that Elizabeth showed a certain firmness regarding the King's advances towards her - although I doubt she did so with a dagger at her throat, lol. I have always imagined Edward to have a passionate nature, so that each rejection of hers did nothing but make him more determined to convince her to marry him. My man had a huge ego. Imagine: the most powerful man in England wants to marry you and you refuse him.

Dominic Mancini wrote:

"…when the king first fell in love with her beauty of person and charm of manner, he could not corrupt her virtue by gifts or menaces."

Sigh… this couple brings out the romantic teenager in me, lol.

Another thing I like about this couple is the authenticity of their bond - genuine partnership, affection and loyalty. I say this especially because, given the events that followed the Queen's coronation and the alliance with Burgundy through Margaret of York's marriage to Charles the Bold, Edward had multiple opportunities to ease his situation and remove Elizabeth and her family if he really wanted to, even if doing so would have ended up as Warwick's puppet. To make a story compelling, you have to prove your characters' affection by placing them in contexts of maximum uncertainty - that's what I think happened with Edward and Elizabeth. Whoever thinks that love between two people has reached its peak when everything is milk and honey is either lying or doesn't know how to build their story. And history has shown us that it is a very good storyteller.

A bloody rebellion, a terrifying exile, and a series of marital infidelities could have proved fatal to a less devoted couple. An exchange, so to speak, took place: Edward offered Elizabeth the highest position in the Kingdom, and in return, she took it and made a home out of it. She had given her husband exactly what he had been lacking from his family - unquestioning loyalty, children he could adore, a warm home, etc. I am not saying that all of Edward's family proved antagonistic throughout his life, but I like to imagine that Elizabeth was the person he sought out when problems arose - the difficulties created by Clarence's rebellion and execution seem to me to be one reason why that side of the family proved so divided. I imagine that Edward often sought refuge in the company of Elizabeth and their children precisely because she represented the stability he sometimes craved. I mean, this man loved and cherished his children - his daughters! - beyond the bounds of political necessity, and I adore him for it. Elizabeth was the person who could comfort him, who could calm him when he proved untamable, who managed to influence him when he seemed unyielding. Here we can also discuss his infidelities - Edward cannot be exempt from accusations, although "the great playboy" seems to me an exaggeration. And this is largely because the accounts seem quite vague. Of course, there is a possibility that a lot of information was lost, although I believe that nothing would have prevented Edward from bringing his bastards to Court as he had done with Grace, but the fact remains - Edward was unfaithful. What bothers me, however, is that people are using his infidelity to prove something that most likely never happened - yes, yes, that's exactly what I'm talking about. Richard III and his attempt to prove a possible-this-could-never-happened-this-pre-contract with Eleanor Butler. Ma boi may have been a notorious philanderer, with a huge ego, but not a fool. I doubt he would have put his dynasty in danger without taking action in advance. I wonder, though, what the reason would have been for removing his son from the throne if Edward IV had turned out to be the most chaste man on Earth. I'll have to think about that.

They would most likely have accused him of mating with Eve in the Garden of Eden. Oh, wait…

Interrupting this program for reasons of spiritual safety of the reader

For me, as a storyteller, Edward's infidelities are just another detail of their relationship - not to be interpreted as my approval of them. I'm sure Elizabeth was as furious with his amorous escapades as she would be with a woman in this world. We don't know if she was vocal in her disapproval or not - I prefer to think that there were times when their reconciliation would have proven a little more difficult; we're talking about an era when a woman's well-being depended on the man's satisfaction, but I try to believe that Edward made some effort to please his wife. Their partnership and the time they spent together makes me hope so. Each time, she proved to be above expectations - Elizabeth seems to have had the wisdom not to push him away with her criticisms, as his mistresses did not diminish her influence over him. In turn, Edward made sure not to offend her or undermine her authority with his extramarital affairs.

And that for nineteen years.

That's probably better than you could expect from a couple at the helm of the country in the Middle Ages.

These are the main ideas; I choose to stop here, considering that developing the subject could mean a lot of text and a lot of debate, with which we may or may not agree. Again, this is my general view of their relationship and by no means an academic essay, lol. Although I am much more capable of illustrating these things, still…

[pandoras-romance-guru]

Ewya Ships it (Part Two)

Continuation of this right here! (Part 1)

Neteyam x Avatar!Reader 

CW: Angst, Hurt/ comfort, Reader and Neteyam have a fight, Tuk and Kiri are best girls, Jake comes in with the dad advice, Reader gets double triple mum support.

A/n: Really liked how the first part turned out but i didn’t want it to get too long, so here is another part, that also might get too long lol. :)

Bold text is for text spoken in Na'vi

After your talk with Lo’ak, you find Neteyam with his family’s Ikran.

It appeared like he has just gotten back just like Lo’ak had said. You can tell from his shoulders that he had been out for a while because they looked slightly darker, almost like they were burnt. Could navi get sunburnt? You wondered.

His back had been facing you so he hadnt seen you approach. Which was good because despite his younger brothers encouragement, being infront of him now the doubt began to bubble up again.

You can do this, youve done things scarier than this.

You figure that now that your here you might as well tell him. Because if you dont and blabber-mouth gets to him first then he really will be upset with you.

A deep breath.

"Neteyam"

He turns at the sound of your voice - surprised. You on the other hand are surprised by just how steady and authoritative you sounded. Despite the feeling od dread pooling in your stomach

"(Name), i havent seen you in a while! What have you been up to? Not avoiding me i hope!" He jokes

"Of course not" you laugh

At least not on purpose

However the friendly air starts to shift as he fixes his gaze on your stature, him clearing his throat and adjusting his own. "Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

You give a curt nod in response. "And its important."

"Well then tell me" he encourages, his tone is calm and inviting, but the look he gives hides a small amount of anxiety.

"I...well... you know how we are very different right?" You say, unsure of how to bring it up casually

"Yeah?"

"Well... ive been gifted with a very unique opportunity!" You continue, trying to make yourself sound chipper and excited to help the point across. "...I uh... have an avatar body now... and im going to bond it with ewya to become it, or rather that version of 'me'... permanently."

Neteyam doesn say anything. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open so wide he might be able to catch bugs in it. Heavy tension hangs in the so long that even with your oxygen mask on you feel the lack of air

"So thats what youve been doing? Huh? Doing this behind my back? How long were you planning this?! And your only just telling me this now!?" The more questions come from his mouth the louder and more aggressive his tone becomes "do you even understand what your saying to me right now!?"

Whelp. This was going JUST as well as Lo'ak predicted.

You know what he was saying was coming from a place of care. You know that. The process in question had only been successful with his father and he was personally chosen by eywa. But the way he was saying it was making it seem like you had made the decision on a whim!

That made you mad

"OF COURSE I DO!" You retaliate. Your sudden tone with him makes Neteyam falters in his verbal assault on why it was a bad idea. So you continue. Calmly this time.

"I have not made this choice lightly. i wouldve thought that the idea of us being together, PROPERLY mightve made you excited. Clearly i was wrong. But this isnt just about you, or me. This choice means a great deal to others that i now consider very dear. My mothers."

Neteyams eyes widen.

"The ritual will be happening tomorrow night. Whether you are there or not it doesnt matter anymore. It will be up to ewya."

You quickly turn to leave, no longer acknowledging the boy. You anticipated his discontentment... but him shouting at you like that? You needed some time alone. Maybe your mothers could provide some insight.

So you hurried off to find them

~~~

You hear them before you see them, gentle whispers and and loving reassurances.

"Trust me my love it will be fine we must trust in Ewya" one of your mothers spoke, clearly comforting your other parent.

"I know dearest. And believe me, i do, its just... we have waited a while for this to happen... if it doesnt take... does that mean the great mother doesnt think us good parents? We have raised that girl, she knows our ways better than any other. Ewya must she how that body fails her and give her a body that speaks to her."

Your mothers backs are facing you when you come into the tent. For a moment, you think about walking back out. They seem more than stressed enough to comfort your tears.

But your runny nose and not so quiet sniffle makes an ear twitch.

They turn with smiles on their faces, but falter when they see you no return it.

"Dearest daughter what is the matter?" Sa'neya chides crouching to your leavel and stroking you hair

"Its nothing... just that boys are really really stupid" you sniff, hiding your face in her shoulder

Nilan'gi makes a disgruntled noise from the back of her throat "That boy... why i ought to-"

"Ah!" Sa'neya tuts "Be calm, be calm. This will not help anyone. We need to support each other right now. The ceremony will soon begin. That is where we need to focus our efforts"

You nod. Wishing you could wipe your tears and make yourself presentable.

"Why dont you go see the sully girls? Maybe they have some pretty beads and can do your hair." Milan'gi suggests putting her hand on your shoulder

"No! I want to be the one to do it! Im her mother i should be the first one that gets to do her hair!" Sa'neya huffs tail swishing aggressively

You giggle at their little argument. This in turn gets there attention on your again. "I cant wait to wake up and get to be with you. I want to go flying with you as soon as possible mum!" You hug Milan'gi's waist. She stiffens, not really being one for lots of psychical touch. But you feel her relax as she whispers in a quiet voice

"I would like that very much little one. We will go to all the best spots"

---

You cautiously approach the sully tent.

Not wanting to have another run-in with Neteyam.

You find Neytiri and Jake, milling around and tidying. When Neytiri sees you she brightens a little and gives you a small nod to come inside.

"(Name) what brings you here? If you are looking for the girls im afraid you just missed them. They were going to go dip in the rock pools before the ceremony"

"Oh. Thats ok then, i was just going to ask them if they had any shells or beads they would like to share. Mother Sa'neya wants some so she can do my hair later."

The prospect of "later" seems to make the Sully adults stiffen a little. While they are hopeful, the thought that later might not come is something that seems to way heavily. But if you notice, it goes unsaid.

"Ill have them pick out the best ones upon their return."

You smile and nod your head.

"Will Neteyam be flying you there?" Jake asks

You go quiet, thinking hard before you answer. "About that..."

Quickly explaining the past several hours has both parents scowling, shaking their heads and sighing.

"That boy i swear..." you hear him mumble in english. "Of all the times to be stubborn and pig-headed"

"My mothers said that they will take both of me their. Its something they dont want anyone else doing."

Neytiri hums in understanding.

"Of course. You are their child. It would only make sense."

Before you can continue the conversation you can hear the voices of the other kids.

Along with Neteyam.

Not wanting to see him again just yet you say quick goodbyes and slip out the back.

--- Quick 3rd person pov intermission sully kids edition

The laughter of the four sully kids fills the camp on the way back to the tent. They laugh and shove each other as they joke about event from the rock pools

It all comes to a crashing hault as the children make eyes with their father; whom looks displeased and disappointed.

It seems to ease the slightest bit when he adresses the two girls

"Girls, be sure you take the beads and shells to give to Sa'neya and Milan'gi. Itll be a good gift for (Name)'s awakening. But only if it goes well"

The mention of their human friend had the older children stiffening.

Tuk, not fully understanding the implication of her fathers words smiles brightly "sure dad! We will have to wait till after to give it to them right? Because i also have my own gift i wanna give them!"

"Im sure they will love it Tuk" Neytiri soothes, ushering the youngest girl to where the trinkets were being kept.

Kiri, ever astute, takes that as her opportunity to leave mouthing a 'youre in troubleee' before making herself scarce

"Neteyam." Jake's voice hardens

"Yes sir?"

"Tell me why im hearing from (Name) that you and them had an argument and that the two of you werent speaking?"

The boys eyes widen at their fathers words. "Wait... they were here?" Lo'ak asks, worry in his tone as he glances at his brother

"Earlier. Now answer the question Neteyam. Did you shout at them for behaving - and these are their words - 'recklessly, on a whim, and behind your back?'"

"You said that to them!" Lo'ak interrupts smacking his bothers shoulder hard. A strong pointed father look stops him from doing more.

"Yes. But they were also shouting-" Neteyam reasons

"That is not the issue here boy!" His father shouts. "You have been going on non-stop about this kid. You had both me and your mother believing that you would choose them! Hells we were on the verge of even discussing it with their mothers! And you act like this!" He rants ears pinned and teeth bared in frustration.

Neteyam can feel his ears and tail droop as his break eye contact with his father. A pain begins to settle in his chest as he starts to think at the thought of him and (Name) choosing each other now being a distant dream.

After what shouldve been (Name) giving him good news.

Tears begin to well in his eyes. "Im sorry father... i know i shouldnt have spoken to them like that but i was just so-"

"I know"

Neteyam feels his fathers hands grip his shoulders. "Son, i know what it is like to have your share of spats in a yound relationship. Your mother and i didnt exactly start off great either. You all know that story." He says gently "and this is why i know, and your mother will agree. That there is still time to mend things if you not only own up to your actions, but do your damn best to make things better."

Neteyam nods in understanding. Jake nods in acknowledgement and straightens to his full height. "You are going to make an appearance. As is your duty. Be sure your ready." He huffs

Lo'ak whacks Neteyam the moment their are alone. "I cant believe you"

"I should be saying that! You knew? How long" Neteyam growls

"Not much longer than you bro, just earlier today. who do you think gave them directions to where you were! If i knew this would happen i wouldnt have said to go to you!" The younger brother exclaims.

Neteyam feels his heart constrict more. He huffs and turns. Now was not the time for moping, his father was right. He was going to do whatever it took to make it right.

Now he just had to pray that that chance would come.

--- back to the regularly scheduled program

You lay on the ground as the clan tsahik Mo'at mutters and chants in Na'vi. The clan echos her words as the ground pulses.

A pit of anxiety wells in your stomach as you feel parts of the ground start to wrap around you into a cocoon.

Sa'neya sees your stress and places her large hand onto your chest.

"Be calm my child, all will be well. You will return to us soon. Have faith" her words sound confident, but you can see the way her eyes betray the slight hint of doubt and fear herself.

Minlan'gi joins her hand with your other mum, the gesture bringing even more comfort.

"We will see you soon. Your mother cant wait to pinch your cheeks until they burst with happiness" she whispers

"I do not!" She hisses back playfully.

The interact brings warmth to your heart and you smile.

You can feel the ground pulsing strengthen, lulling you to sleep. Mo'at visage appears before you again as your mothers make room for her

She eases the mask off and despit breathing the pure pandorian air. You arent struggling for breath.

"Feeling... sleepy... Mama" you mumble tiredly, your vision blurring

You dont see Sa'neya's own eyes begin to tear up as she shakingly strokes your hair. "Thats meant to happen darling one. That means we will see you soon. Try not to take to long, your mother will grow impatient"

"O...K.." you slur.

Then the world falls to darkness

[sepublic]

Sometimes I do have to question the decision to make Samus into the Chozo's personal champion/warrior; I think there's def some questionable moral implications about this. Especially when you find out that the Chozo let Raven Beak donate his DNA into Samus', which is just a whole can of worms; How the heck did this happen, how did they agree to it??? Did Raven Beak threaten them, why did they never tell Samus? Why an interest in Samus? How did Mother Brain think of all this, because I'd be surprised if she just never noticed despite her massive control over Zebes.

It's different not mentioning it was Gray Voice's DNA specifically, because I can see why it wouldn't be deemed relevant by either the Chozo or Samus herself up until the circumstances of that reveal. Samus definitely knew they donated somebody's DNA from that community, and she only knows of Chozo on Zebes, not Tallon IV or SR388.

I could see the Dread arc in a Metroid show being a storyline where Samus is kinda forced to confront her Chozo heritage, her relationship with them, ask these sorts of uncomfortable questions; I think Samus has a problem with seeing herself as only a weapon, a destroyer, which should make her dynamic with Adam compelling in theory because despite being a military commander, he does try to remind Samus that she should have an existence outside of these things. And this plays into his AI reincarnation finding a way for Samus to survive Fusion while still completing her objective. The fact that Adam himself was a military human might play into this, because he might understand firsthand how Samus feels the need to be her role; More on that in a bit…

And after Fusion, after the guilt of the Metroid genocide, and now carrying one's DNA within her, I can see Samus having a lot of questions about what she is, who she's made up of, etc. So in the buildup to the proper Dread storyline, I like to imagine that after Fusion, Samus actually goes to Earth, the ancestral homeworld of humanity, to reconnect with that original side of hers, with Rodney and Virginia's.

Seeing how much humans are used by the Federation as attack dogs (per my own HCs and the series itself) makes Samus wonder if there's more than that, hence Earth. It's a way for her to clear her head from depression and take a damn vacation with Adam, who has his memories again... Maybe Anthony? I think Samus might be in too much of an awkward spot with the Federation to invite Anthony, because that would put him in such an uncomfortable position as a Federation employee himself.

Still, seeing the role that humans play as the Federation's infantry species makes Samus wonder, at some point; Is that why the Chozo chose to adopt me? Obviously they saved me, but they could've just left me at an orphanage, maybe insisted on seeing me through a successful adoption process. But instead, they took me to Zebes, away from my people, and changed me to be more like them. Maybe when I joined the Federation, it was in the hopes of reconnecting with my human side.

It's a bit of irrational, panicked doubt that Samus has the luxury of being able to voice to Adam, who acts as a more objective, rational observer after becoming an AI; He's also reconnecting with his emotions, and we possibly get an arc of him showing Samus his home on Earth and where he came from, if he isn't from another world entirely like Samus herself is.

There's definitely a recurring question: Did I even know my people? Do I know who runs through my veins? The Metroids are a good example of this question, since Samus thought of them as just dangerous animals, and for a brief while as unnatural bioweapons after learning more on SR388 (which helped to justify their extermination in her Mind). But then she meets the Queen and then the Infant, and has her whole world rocked via gradual realization.

So Raven Beak showing up is the perfect time to contribute, when Samus starts to reconsider her relationship with the Chozo, her existence as a weapon. And Raven Beak outright says, Samus was groomed by the Thoha into their weapon because they were cowards.

He says that the Thoha were hypocritical, useless cowards; Despite their supposed devotion to peace, down to making it physically painful to inflict it, they still had plenty of workarounds. The Thoha still saw firsthand how violence was a necessary, natural part of life; Case in point, the X were not about to respond to diplomacy, so the Thoha had to create the greatest bioweapon the galaxy has ever seen. And this bioweapon, despite their attempts, would be weaponized later on by so many others, and cause so much destruction.

They also saw the need for the Mawkin; Despite their hostility and dismissal of their 'warmonger' brethren, the Thoha accepted their help when pushed into a corner. It was Mawkin soldiers who gave their lives sealing away the Metroids, so that SR388 might live. So perhaps, then, it was only justice, blood for blood, that Raven Beak slaughtered the Thoha for the deaths of his soldiers.

(I don't see him as being sincere in terms of 'avenging' his soldiers, because I prefer to write the members of a cause as less sympathetic the higher up the command chain they go; Feels truer to real life imo.)

This is a very uncomfortable position for Samus, she's backed into a corner and cut off from a friend like Adam who would be there to speak reason and back her up; Here, she feels alone. This is nonsense, Samus insists. The Thoha made themselves resistant to violence so as to encourage different methods, another way.

Yes, and those 'different methods' were simply to make others do the violence for them, Raven Beak notes. That's why the Zebesian Thoha groomed Samus into their own Metroid, why they accepted Raven Beak's DNA donation. The Thoha weren't trying to minimize violence; They simply sought to keep their hands clean of the dirty work by manipulating/creating others to do it for them.

But Raven Beak knows, he's figured out there's no difference; At that point, just cut out the middle man, do it yourself! This is why the Mawkin are the loyalists, while the Thoha and other clans are traitors; Only the Mawkin remain the True Chozo. And Samus must join them, because like the Mawkin she knows the simple truth that violence IS a natural, necessary part of life. She's seen how naturally vicious animals can be, engaged in that violence herself.

Other things are also necessary, Samus challenges sarcastically. Do you expect me to increase those tenfold in my routine? Raven Beak dismisses that question; Maybe if the situation calls for it. But in this chaotic state, the galaxy needs violence more than it does diplomacy, and so violence is what Samus must offer.

On Raven Beak's end at least, he WAS interested in Samus' status as a human; The Federation's most widespread infantry species. Especially given his plans to clone an army of Metroids... And then an army of Samuses. In general he was intrigued by the use of bioweapons and chimeras, hence Raven Beak adding to hybrid warrior Samus.

This makes it all the more poetic that Raven Beak would forcibly become a chimera himself, thanks to an X; Fusing with Kraid's DNA, with Kraid and the Space Pirates as a whole also operating on the idea of "We are physically superior, especially in combat, so we deserve to take advantage of that for ourselves and rule. Also Metroids are good bioweapons."

So despite their opposition to one another, the Space Pirates and Mawkin are truly two peas in an X pod, aren't they? Raven Beak 'got his wish' by fusing with the Space Pirates' most physically powerful member, and indeed his kidnapping of Kraid might have something to do with his eugenics and bioweapon plans.

Maybe Samus brings up, that beings like her and the Metroids are just a few examples; But the majority of Thoha options was peace, and Raven Beak's folly is that he only recognizes violent options and their success, while only remembering the failures of peaceful options. But it just goes to show how flashy they are, that the Mawkin are too 'bored' and 'under-stimulated' with the banal work of real peace to glorify it. Maybe Samus says this, or Adam, or even Quiet Robe-X.

Point is; If Old Bird is still alive out there, Samus has a LOT of questions for him and the other Zebesian Thoha when they reunite. That's assuming Raven Beak didn't get to them first, and unlike the game, the Metroid show has them actually appear in-person to add to this chaotic arc for Samus. Maybe this could lead to a respectful disagreement, where Samus decides she HAS to fight and this is necessary; But she understands why the Thoha are averse and feel shame, after their warring past.

[killerskillercaptain]

Pillow Talk with Levi Ackerman : Eren

Themes : comfort, fluff, canonverse, romance, Levi and reader are married, late night conversations, deep conversations, reader showing concern about Eren.

This ficlet is part of the PILLOW TALK WITH LEVI ACKERMAN BOOKS. Make sure to follow the next ones by asking to be added to the taglist or by checking the Masterlist !

I Kuchel

II Kenny

III Hange

IV Erwin

V Farlan & Isabel

VI Mikasa

VII Eren

"Another sleepless night", you thought while laying on your king-sized bed, limbs all out. You stared at the ceiling, analyzing each crack on it when you heard the familiar sound of the bathroom's door being opened.

The wooden door would shriek every time someone got in or out of the shower, and no wonder, this place was so old it got you wondering how it was able to withstand the test of time.

You and Levi were staying in this secret base for some additional days. Soon enough, you'll be off to your next stopping point : Wall Sina.

Pixies had requested your presence along with the captain to discuss future strategies. Hange had given you the blueprint of a new advanced weaponry she was working on. The instructions were clear : show the higher ups the new efforts made into this technology, hoping they will find it interesting enough to demand another funding from the nobles. You prayed they would find Hange's work worthy of their time...and money !

"Shit. How long are we gonna keep begging like this ? Those rich bastards with their guts as saggy as their money pouches sure know how to make us crawl to them. All that wealth but they never lift a finger to help unless we stroke their ego, it's not enough for them to cheat on taxation apparently. Plus they always think of us as weak...who do they think is protecting their fat-asses ?!"

He threw a pillow on the bed before plopping down with a heavy sigh.

"Why do we have to be the ones begging ?".

"It has always been like this Levi, and you know it. It's never gonna change" you said eyes still firmly locked on the ceiling.

"If he didn't mess up the original plan, we wouldn't have to come up with this stupid weapon case !"

You knew that by "he", he meant Eren.

"Levi, try to be in his shoes-"

"Yeah right, he's gonna get my shoe right in his face again if he doesn't stop screwing things up !"

"Can you imagine how hard it is for him ? He just learned that he can transform, can you imagine what it's like...turning into the thing you hate the most ? Turning into the very thing that killed your mother...jeez. He only recently realized that, it's as new to him as it is to us, of course he's having a hard time assessing this, let alone control it ! Think of the emotional turmoil, think of-"

Levi shut you up with a kiss on the lips, they were still wet from the shower. He muffled your last words because he honestly couldn't care less about the excuses you were making for the fifteen-year-old boy.

"Stop taking his side, he's a soldier, he has to learn to tame himself anyway"

"Yeah" you let out in a defeated breath

"I don't know about his titan abilities, but he needs to be tamed. That brat has an ego as big as a titan's ass"

"He is still a kid Levi, i can only imagine how disoriented he might feel, dealing with such powers at such a complicated age, don't you think ?"

You lifted your palm and caressed Levi's cheek softly. You sensed he was letting his guard down so you took this opportunity to steal a kiss from your ever so-stoic husband.

You couldn't hide your concern for the cadet. Yes, he was an annoying fifteen-year-old boy with absolutely impulse control. His anger makes him want to prove himself to anyone who would dare provoke him, yet you had a soft spot for him and his devotion. After all, he was only a child when he witnessed his mother getting killed by a titan. He must have felt so powerless back then, that's why he probably feels he has no time to waste or to think and always launches head-on into danger.

"Look at us fighting about Eren as if he was our child" you chuckled.

"We don't have time to empathize with his situation, we need to know how to deal with him"

"Yes captain, but not tonight" you said sliding your gown off your legs, your shoulders, then your head, before tossing it in the corner of the room.

You tossed a leg over your husband's torso. His skin was wet yet warm and extremely comforting. You liked to rest your head on the crook of his neck, taking in his scent, he smelt so clean, as he always did.

You stayed in this position for the longest time until Levi's body turned cold and started to shudder. Feeling him quivering underneath you caught you off guard and you realized how late it already was. Levi slipped away and started to dry his damp skin, the moon casting a sweet light on his delicate figure. You couldn't help but ogle him, watching each and every one motion he made with the old towel.

Levi was literally shining under the dim moonlight.

"But damn, can you imagine turning into a titan ?" you said, both amused and repulsed by the thought.

"Well, at least i would be tall...and i would be the one looking down on our generous providers for a change, instead of having them staring down at me all the time"

He wasn't looking at you but he could hear you muffle a sweet laugh in the dark.

"Levi, you're perfect the way you are-"

"Go to bed already !"

Taglist : @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @notgoodforlife

[paperstarwriters]

ive come kneeling at your doorstep to beg for that essay on murio and luciels parallels you mentioned 👀💦👉👈

i love loathing lucio so much so it would deal my lil hater ass so much psychic damage and i cannot wait to get rekt

(onlyifyouwanttothoofcoursetakeyourtime)(just making sure youre aware id print that shit n frame it above my bed were it to come to existence)

Hello @tetsuooooooooooo! I know you said I can take my time, ok I'm still really really sorry this took awhile, I've been kinda burnt out from classes lately, and writing a bunch of essays for that lol, but I've managed to make a somewhat coherent argument for my case here lol.

Now, to preface this:

I only really like Lucio as a character to thematically dissect and kick around occasionally for giggles. I am a far, far cry from a Lucio stan, I just find him interesting—like a bug. Honestly I don't think I'm gonna convince you he's in any way a good guy I just might make you loathe him more 😅

I haven't played Lucio's route. I'm too busy and I get too annoyed with some of his antics + the options of reactions that MC is allowed to make. I've only played the side stories and a lot of my understanding of his character is built from Muriel's route (and I know he's much more different in his own route than he is in the others') as well as hearsay from other people talking about Lucio

I know I said that I'd include Aurora's songs in my original statement but that got wayyyyyyy too messy so I'm just opting to exclude them lol. (not to mention youtube is doing a very irritatingly strange thing of deleting and then reuploading Aurora's songs??? so I don't wanna deal with the messy files :/)

With that out of the way here is my essay :)

Wordcount: 2,908

──────── ✎ ────────

Muriel and Lucio are both very, very caught up in how they are seen by others. While it's clearer when it comes to Lucio, it is also made clear in Muriel by the fact that Social anxiety is often caused by stress over how a person is perceived and their mental belief that they are helpless to change that perception. This causes of their self perception are also quite similar, due to their similar histories, but in the same way that there are some notable opposites between them with their struggle for their identity there is also some notable differences in their histories that arguably causes the slight difference in their struggle for their self image.

To begin with their history, Muriel and Lucio are noted to both come from the South. They come from two opposing tribes, and are both eventually chased out of their home and community by 1) a cruel person who arguably causes their struggle of identity and 2) the plague. Of course, the major difference here is that Lucio actively made decisions that would lead to him being chased out of his tribe, he was arguably aware that if it failed he'd have to leave, he just hadn't considered that it would actually fail.

Muriel on the other hand is chased out of his home at a much younger age, and he has no choice in his eviction from his home or his family. There is no action that Muriel could have done that would have allowed him to stay where he was, unlike Lucio who had a clear option that would have allowed him to stay.

Or at least would have allowed him to stay until he grew tired of his mother's attitude towards him.

I don't believe that Morga's cruel and dismissive attitude towards Lucio started when he tried to kill her, rather, I believe that she has been doing that for a long, long time. She often states that she had been "too soft" on Lucio, but I think her "softness" is the same kind we see in Muriel's route. She berates him, she threatens him, she tells him how awful and unskilled he is to everyone else and makes a show of his failures, but when she is completely and fully enraged and is about to hit Lucio, she hesitates.

Is that softness? To her perhaps. To the tribe, perhaps. But not to me, and not to Lucio.

So, despite all of the harsh words thrown his way, he decides to take action to prove her wrong. I'm willing to bet that a lot of Morga's criticisms were about how strong he was and how he was in fact not actually as strong as he could have been, not as strong as he should have been. That's why when he takes action to prove Morga wrong, he immediately snaps to killing her. There is, after all, no better way than showing your power than killing your opponent (we see this belief in Morga when she spars against Muriel and he beats her.) Of course, in hand-to-hand combat, and on fair terms, Lucio can't actually defeat his mother, so he takes to more under-handed methods in order to beat her.

When this fails, it is the first major wound on his self-image. He cannot defeat his mother. He is not strong enough to defeat his mother despite cheating.

So, he runs away.

Besides marking a wound on his self-image, this also marks Lucio's connection to others. Having been exiled from his tribe, he is disconnected from the friends who may have actually supported him somewhat, he is robbed of his connections and separated from anyone who may have actually loved and cared for him (platonically and/or romantically)

Similarly, Muriel's separation from his own family, and his eventual abandonment into the streets of Vesuvia separates him from any stable sense of love and affection as well. Because he was separated from loving parents as a child and was likely surrounded by a number of children who were abandoned because they were unwanted, or because their parents were unable to care for them, Muriel has no other answer than what the other kids give him it is the only answer he has. Further more I believe that Muriel was probably abandoned by that merchant because they were unable to keep feeding him, which he also attaches onto his real parents as to why he was abandoned in the first place.

And so Muriel believes himself to be unloved and unlovable after being separated from family, or any semblance of a family.

Returning to Lucio, he moves on from his tribe and eventually joins a military group(? I think? Idk. I'm sure there was a specific name for it but I can't remember sorry) Once again, this is an act of trying to prove to his mother and to his community that they were wrong, and when compared to the ordinary person outside of their tribe, he's actually a really good and capable fighter. Of course, however, this is inevitably cut short as he looses his arm, and is once again confronted with the fact that he is unskilled as a warrior and so he retreats from his perceived deficiency and takes a different route to getting the love and admiration he wants—politics.

Of course, as we see in Muriel and Asra's childhood tale, this inevitably puts him into direct conflict as, in order to climb the social ladder he offers to "clean up" the streets. While it's largely left up to interpretation as to whether or not the Threat of Asra's safety came first or Muriel's position as a gladiator came first, I can't help but believe that Muriel's position as a gladiator came first, as otherwise, he might've gone out and tried to check on Asra's safety. (though this is mostly a headcannon) I believe that Lucio offered Muriel a chance to have some say in who gets "cleaned up" from the streets, and for Muriel to be able to get rid of the "actually bad criminals". Regardless of whether or not this is true, the arena gives Muriel his first taste of admiration, as people cheer for and adore him, but it also tears that sense of admiration away as he eventually has to come to terms with what he is doing. Whether that sense of dread and awareness was always there or it occurred somewhere in the middle is also unknown but the outcome is the same regardless. Being known and being admired becomes tied to hurting and harming people—because it is the only trait he sees that other people admire, he sees it as his only lovable trait.

And so Lucio and Muriel begin to reflect each other—and I don't mean reflect as in they show the same image, I mean reflect as in we see a similar image, but the image is reversed (*wink wink nudge nudge*). Here Muriel sees himself as only capable of being loved for his ability to commit violence, and Lucio sees himself as being incapable of being loved because he cannot complete the amount of violence he needs to commit.

Now, I feel the need to emphasize here, despite having many people around him who Lucio may truly believe love and admire him, the people around him very likely don't actually care for him very much because they either do not know him well, or they see him as little more than a pawn in a plan, or at least someone who gives them benefits. And even if there are a number of people with genuine admiration for Lucio, it still wouldn't be enough. Admiration is never enough when you lack genuine emotional connections with others, and Lucio, clearly does.

Again, this parallels Muriel who also struggles with a lack of genuine emotional connections to others. Although he has Asra with him, it's clear that, Asra's tendency to be fickle with connections has extended to him as well, especially when Asra spends more time with MC than him, leaving Muriel feeling abandoned and alone. Considering that Asra is the only person we ever really see Muriel connect or talk to, it's no stretch to say that Asra is one of Muriel's only friends, if not their only friend period, and so with Asra disappearing on him as often as they do, Muriel is left feeling that he actually has no connections at all.

Of course once again reflecting each other, where Muriel clearly sees he lacks connections and pretends he does not, Lucio, makes unsteady transactional rather than emotional relationships and pretends that that is enough.

It is of course, not enough, because if it were, he wouldn't have treated Muriel like that, he likely wouldn't have plucked Muriel out at all. Although this is largely speculation, I believe that Lucio treated Muriel the way he did because he feels as if Muriel is the very child Morga would have wanted. He is big and strong, and although not technically skilled if Muriel were raised by Morga like Lucio was, he might've been. This is why his first reaction to seeing Muriel and Morga working together is that Muriel is Morga's replacement son. It's because that's how Lucio had been treating him. Muriel is Lucio's little avatar to live out the glory of being a fantastically skilled fighter who can beat up all of his opponents. This is also, why I believe that Lucio purposefully trained Muriel to be less skilled in fighting than he was. In Muriel's route, Lucio comments that he's always been able to beat Muriel, and while I do in fact believe that Lucio is actually a skilled fighter, despite how he is often presented and despite my arguments above—he's most often a skilled fighter in the technical sense. He knows all the movements, he knows all the strategies, he knows all the underhanded tricks. By not fighting Muriel too often, and refusing to teach him these tricks however much it may be able to help Muriel out in the arena, it allows Lucio to be able to defeat him whenever he wants to. It allows Lucio to make it seem to himself that he is better than the person his mother would have wanted as a son, which I believe to be both horrible but also sad, for both Lucio and Muriel.

With Lucio, it shows how desperate and inferior he feels with his fighting skills, constantly trying to compensate for it something we can also see that in the portrait of himself he has in his room.

For Muriel, it keeps him scared, and keeps him pinned in place despite having realized the consequences of his fighting. Something which only furthers his self-hatred when he realizes he actually could have easily left.

So yes, Muriel and Lucio are both very self conscious people, and while for Muriel his self consciousness stems from people seeing him as a monster, and him believing that he is one although he does not want to be one, Lucio is self-conscious in the fact that he is not seen as the brutal fighting warrior he was supposed to be.

These reflected aspects of each other, alongside of their self consciousness is the very thing they struggle through in their routes, the very thing that MC helps them to get through.

Lucio believes that through various paintings of himself that rearranges his past (paintings of himself as a triumphant fighter, while his mother is demure and elegant), various unfair/practically staged fights, and celebrations of himself on top of it all, he would be able to convince people that he is awesome and amazing and that he deserves to be loved. In doing all of this however, Lucio runs away from confronting the beliefs at his core and wondering if perhaps, what he understood as traits that make a person great may be incorrect—that his mother had not just been incorrect on the fact that he was a failure, but on the fact of what makes a person successful or powerful. By constantly covering up what he sees as deficits, Lucio skims over his own internal struggles entirely which makes him look foolish and annoying as he ignores what's so clearly there for others.

Meanwhile, for Muriel, he is aware of his deficits, and is unable to properly hide them without disappearing completely himself, he tries to figure out and fix all of his problems through introspection and isolation, but it is not something he can do on his own. Muriel of course, can't accept the fact that he may need help. He can't accept the fact that despite what he believes of himself, other people may actually care for him the same way he cares for them, and will actually offer help. And so, as he runs away from people and community, from friends, and possible friends alike, Muriel runs away from his own problems as well, even if he tortures himself with confronting them (I can't remember if he actually does this or if this is a fanfic trope 😅) Essentially, by constantly trying to deal with his struggles on his own, he neglects his connections to others who may help him, or at least offer support.

And then MC comes along, and because they both desperately needed that deep connection to someone else, regardless of whether it is something platonic or romantic. MC is able to leverage their relationship in order to further propel Muriel and Lucio's development into acknowledging the thing they refuse to acknowledge, and finally balance out their coping mechanisms, which, on their own isn't actually unhealthy (Lucio's really good at connecting with others; Muriel knows how to confront his inner turmoil) using that single method as their crutch for their traumas only ever hurts them more.

As Muriel progresses through his route, he grows more connected with his community and people. One meaningful moment that I don't think they give enough screen time in the game is the moment that Muriel is forced to confront people recognizing and seeing him again. He's forced to confront everyone's perception of him, their memory of him and he retreats into the mirror maze where he stares at all these reflections of himself, all reversed images of himself, but he believes them all to accurately represent himself—as if his superficial physical image is what represents himself mentally and emotionally. And then MC (and Morga 🙄) come through to him and pull him out of that panic attack (or interrupt and yank him away from properly addressing the problem in Morga's case 😤) And that's the first step to being loved. As they say, in order to let yourself be loved you have to let yourself be known, and in that first step, choosing to step forward and prioritize the lives of others over his own self image, Muriel begins to be admired by others. Genuinely admired, for traits that he likes in himself rather than traits that he hates.

Similarly for Lucio, (although I haven't played his route so this is largely based on hearsay) he's faced with problems that he Has to face on his own (or at least somewhat on his own) the main one being that he has to confront the consequences of his own actions, he has to acknowledge to himself that he isn't perfect and that he can't be perfect. It's why at the end of his route on the upright ending, he leaves Vesuvia, to take on a life of (semi)solitude to further take some time to improve his ability at introspection, while in the Reversed ending he's still talking with people, still trying to manipulate their perceptions of him (and the MC), and still trying to be a "good boy" (ie. perfect) for the MC.

Now, it may be argued that Julian can/should be included in this struggle of how others perceive him but I raise you this; that guy is the most dramatic ass dude in town and his biggest dramatic act was telling everyone about how horrible he is. He clearly has no issues with how other people see him, but he has problems with how he sees himself, which again, reflects Muriel a bit, but I'm sure most people are familiar with their (more blatant) similarities by now lol

So yea.

Muriel and Lucio are reflections of each other. At their core, they both struggle with the same problem of caring way too much about how they're seen by others, but they cope with (and thus worsen) the problem in opposite ways, so when they take steps to heal themself, they also go in opposite directions, with Lucio needing to take some time to himself to get into his own head, while Muriel needs some time away from himself to get out of his own head.

Essentially they're heading in opposite directions to reach the same conclusion: other people's opinions don't matter as much as your own opinion of yourself and the opinions of the people close to you.

Interesting parallels, no?

Of course, I believe this could've been better illustrated if Nyx Hydra didn't rush the last three routes, but alas, this is what fan fiction and fan-analysis is for lol

Anyways I don't tend to poke around the Lucio side of the fandom too much to begin with so if this has all been said and argued before forgive me for the repetition, and If I've gotten some points wrong, please feel free to correct me! I've mentioned before I haven't really played through Lucio's route so some things may be wrong.

[superaznchick]

im usually on this website for a goofy silly time but im being stalked and harassed by my birth mother

it's scary and i dont know what to do, i made it very clear that i never wanted to see her again and she keeps showing up at my house and ringing the doorbell over and over again and standing waiting around

she waited for 2+ hours for me to come home on Sunday and when we got home she waited around for another hour constantly ringing the doorbell and then she mumbled stuff at me into our doorbell (which as a camera) and claiming that she'll never come back again and told me to go have a good life

but she came back again today during the workday today and was just standing there ringing the doorbell again and again

i called her and told her to never come back that i never wanted to see her again

i already called the non-emergency police line on sunday but they came too late they didnt come until over an hour after i called because she wasn't actively breaking in or doing anything that would require me to call 911 so instead i got the slower response from the officers

i dont know what to do but i know for a FACT that that woman does not respect me as a human. she does not see me as human, she belives she has righteous ownership over me as her property

i know she is stubborn and i know she will never respect my space

if she comes back again im going to need to file a restraining order and press charges for trespassing

this is actually insane i dont know if anyone out there understands this feeling or is even willing to imagine but my anxiety has been through the roof the last few days i feel like nobody cares or wants to care because it's "not so bad" but ive had a lifetime of this woman acting this way

acting entitled to me, treating me as sub-human, not listening to anything i say and feeling like she has a god-given right to access me in any way she wants and throwing a tantrum when i say no

she's a monster to me it makes me feel insane and crazy that i can't get a simple "no" respected. she would never treat any other person this way, she treats me this way because she believes she can. it's sick, it's twisted, it's evil

luckily my husband is on my side and it's so unfair to him because it affects him too, she was here in the middle of a workday and it's disruptive to his work, he has a high pressure job and it's not fair to him that he has to deal with this and i feel so bad

im just so angry, im so infuriated. im fucking 30 years old and i still have to deal with this shit, it's insane. no matter what i do no matter how i do it i'll never be more than her little plaything that she can come throw around whenever she feels like

i hate her and i never want to see her again. my house doesn't even feel safe anymore my walks dont feel safe she literally followed me today

i came home from a walk and she rang the doorbell LITERALLY less than 30 seconds later because she STALKED me and FOLLOWED me and kept violating my boundaries despite there being CLEAR indication that I DONT WANT TO SEE HER

she's literally evil. she knows that she's doing. she parked her car blocks away because she KNOWS. she KNOWS that we'd recognize her car and she PURPOSELY PARKED IT far away enough so we wont see it.

she's not some harmless old lady she's smart and conniving. and that's why im exasperated. i feel like no one will believe me because "oh that's your mom" "how can you say that about your mom" but my soul has been screaming for the last 3 decades. my subconscious remembers everything my nervous system explodes when she's here even when she sends me a text it spikes my cortisol. all the evidence is there but people just dont understand

please if you're reading this please beg the universe that she'll leave me alone. that's all i want, i swear, i'd seriously want for nothing more, i dont want money i dont want fame i dont want success i dont care!!!! i just want to be left in peace, i want to live out the rest of my life in peace away from this monster, please tell the universe, tell the algorithm, tell god, tell the divine, please help me manifest her absence from my life. please tell whoever's running the server to keep that woman away from me im begging. please please please

[maes-flowers]

For them, For us [6] (Obi-wan x Reader)

Summary: Following the Kenobi series, two former Jedi masters Obi-wan Kenobi and Y/n Marilla are grieving the lost of Anakin, Padme, and the jedi purge. After pledging to watch over Luke Skywalker and spending ten years in exile and making a life together, what will happen when the mistakes they made in their past come back as a new threat?

Warnings: Canon typical violence but that should be it

Authors note: IM ALIVE AND BACK BITCHES ive been working on this on and off for the last few months that its gotten way longer than i was planning and I still have 14 pages that I spilt off from this for the final part and maybe a epilogue as well but I've missed this series so much and if you enjoyed this very overdue update please let me know down below!

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

You and Obi-wan watched Leia comfort people with Lola as the explosions grew closer together, the small droid beeping happily at a little boy and his mother. She must've sensed your presence because she turned around and smiled as you waved her over.

Obi-wan kneeled on the ground as you stood behind him, when Leia walked over clutching Lola. 

“They're scared.” she said, another explosion boomed outside. “She keeps their mind off of it.”

“Maybe I should borrow her too.” Obi-wan suggested.

Leia looked at him confused.

“Why?”

You sighed and placed a nervous hand on Obi-wan's shoulder.

“Leia, Ben and I…” you swallowed nervously, this was harder than you thought it would be, Leia watched you with big eyes as you sucked in a deep breath.

“We��re going to go after Vader, but you're going to stay here.”

Leia's eyes grew wide and she shook her head in protest.

“No! No way! You can’t just leave me here!” she shouted.

“We’re the ones Vader wants. If we go he will follow.” Obi-wan explained gently.

“No, I'm not letting you!”

“Leia, please.” you begged.

Everyone was looking now, worry and fear as they heard what the two of you were planning to do. The woman who Leia was talking to moments ago now stood up and looked at you and Obi-wan confused.

“Wait, what happened to all of us staying together?!”

Another explosion went off, making you run a frustrated hand over your face before you looked at her with an exasperated look.

“Roken needs more time to fix the ship, this will give him that time!” you sighed, clasping your hands together like you were begging. “You have spent ten years protecting the Jedi, this is our chance to return the favor.”

“But we're so close!” Roken argued.

“Roken, you know this plan makes sense!” you replied grimly.

“No, we need you!” Sully now chimed in.

“It’ll buy you the time you need! You must get these people out of here, you are all the future!” Obi-wan exclaimed looking down at Leia. “You are the future! You're what's needed to survive.”

Leia looked away from his piercing gaze, you could've sworn you saw her eyes watering with tears but before you could get a decent look at her she turned around and ran away.

“No!” she shouted and ran around the corner.

“Leia!” you went to go after her but Haja intercepted and placed his hands on your shoulders to stop you.

“She needs to be given space.” Haja suggested.

“You must promise us that you'll get her home, Haja.” Obi-wan begged. “As soon as we’re in the clear.”

Haja’s gaze flickered between yours and Obi-wan's faces, and it was the most serious you've ever seen the man in the short time you knew him.

“You have my word,” he promised. “Although, I know the words of a liar and a fake jedi may not mean much to you.”

“It means everything to us,” You placed a hand on his chest and you watched as Haja’s face softened at your words. 

“Go get your things, I'll go talk to Leia.”

🖾

You were putting medical supplies in your bag when Roken walked in, holding something brown in his hands as he walked up to you and Obi-wan. There were no words spoken as he handed Obi-wan the object he was holding, once you could see the line of dashes you sniffled and gently ran your hands over the holster Tala had used in her final moments. The leather wasn't too damaged, just some scuff marks and scratches that could be repaired. You glanced up at Roken and mouthed a silent thank you, not wanting to break the moment of silence for the person you all lost. Roken pursed his lips in acknowledgment before he left the two of you alone.

Looking back down at the holster you sighed, you don't have a blaster anymore and quite frankly didn't like using one but you didn't want it to go to waste if you had brought it with you and ended up dying tonight if things went the worst way possible.

“Can you teach me how to shoot?” Leia's question to Tala coming back from the depths of your memory.

“I think we should go talk to Leia now.” you whispered looking up at Obi-wan

“I agree.”

It didn't take too long to find Leia, a perk for the smaller ship you were thankful for since there weren't many places for her to hide which led you to find her in a corner with Haja kneeling in front of her, whispering in her ear while Leia looked down at her lap. You grabbed Obi-wan's hand and placed Tala’s holester in it.

“I think you should give it to her.”  Obi-wan looked slightly surprised but he clutched it tight in his hand, a silent gesture that showed you he was thankful for the opportunity. Haja heard you talking and said one more thing before he stood up and left the three of you alone.

“Thank you Haja.” you said gratefully as he walked out.

You and Obi-wan walked slowly to Leia, who stubbornly kept her gaze on the floor as she refused to even look at the both of you.

“You said you'd take me home.” she said, bitterly.

“I wish that we could, Leia.” Obi-wan said regretfully. “Really I do.”

Obi-wan thought for a moment before he spoke again.

“Please tell your father we tried.”

Obi-wan kneeled on the ground and held out Talas' holster, handing it to Leia. she ran her small hands over the material slowly.

“Roken found it before we got out, she would have wanted you to have it.”

“It's empty.” she observed and you held back the urge to laugh as Obi-wan rolled his eyes.

“Well, I wasn't gonna give you a blaster, Leia. you're ten years old.”

He sighed.

“But you won't always be.”

You kneeled down next to Obi-wan and put your hand on Leia's leg and squeezed it gently to grab her attention. When she finally looked up at you, and you ignored the slight sting behind your eyes as you stared at her. The reality of leaving her alone and this being possibly the last time you saw your niece crashing down at you at once. Your mouth opening and closing repeatedly trying to find the words to explain what you wanted to say to her but your mind came up short. You stopped trying to talk when she jumped down from where she was sitting and came to hug you, freezing for a moment before you melted into the touch and wrapping your arms around her small frame tightly, your cheek resting on the top of her head as you sighed.

You wanted to remember every feeling of this hug, just in case it was your last. After a few more moments you forced yourself to pull away from her strong grip, and kissed her forehead.

You watched bittersweetly as she jumped into Obi-wan's arms next, his arms wound tight around her just like you did moments ago and closed his eyes for a second. When she pulled away from him she looked at both of you with pleading eyes.

“Come back…Please.” she whispered.

You and Obi-wan hesitated, it was unfair of you to promise something like that when you were so unsure on how this was going to play out, you didn't want to give her false hope.

But you couldn't say no to her, no matter how hard you tried.

“I promise.” You and Obi-wan said together.

You prayed desperately you would be able to keep that promise.

🖾

You and Obi-wan split off from each other, going to one side of the medium sized hangar below the ship as Roken prepared the dropship. You wanted to meditate to clear your mind before you left while Obi-wan attempted to speak to Qui-jon. 

Obi-wan was prepared to die if it came to it, giving his life to fix a wrong he had a part in to do what he could to fix a trail of death and destruction that has been carved in the large expanse of the galaxy over the last ten years. However, you were not prepared to lose Obi-wan or die at the hands of someone you knew long ago. No, not at all.

You were terrified.

You never questioned the Jedi when you were in the temple. the training, the robes, the almost dehumanizing set of rules in place that have been embroidered so deeply into you it could've been visible on your skin. You always believed you were the one that needed to change, the Jedi had this practice in place because they were good and if you messed up then you deserved punishment from the council themselves, and you as well as Obi-wan stood by as they broke Anakin down and manipulated him as they told him the same rhetoric they told you and Obi-wan and hundreds before you. 

Flashes of memories came to mind as you stood in the hangar of the ship, chances to make a difference, to stand up for a kid who was claimed to be the chosen one but was never given any choices of his own. A basic human right stripped away in the name of protecting peace and bringing balance to the force.

Anakin, Obi-wan, as well as yourself lost a freedom you never got to experience due to the jedi order, and even when it crumbled to the ground like a pile of sand facing a gust of wind the reprecisions of the choices you've made and the jedi order played a direct hand into giving the galactic empire its power which led you hiding away for ten years as you were hunted down for something you didn't ask to be apart of. The fear of being found and the unhealed trauma you and Obi-wan experienced held you back from truly living for yourselves and for each other.

You wanted to live in peace with him. You wanted to love Obi-wan to the point he would feel suffocated in the best way possible, to kiss him, to hug him, to bicker, to give him a part of you no one else would receive and vice versa.

You wanted to heal.

And now that the chance to do any of those things were at stake and you were scared for what is going to come next, scared to face the result of many regrets.

“You okay?”

You turned around and saw Roken, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. Nodding as you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes as if you could force the tears back into your tear ducts, clearing your throat you looked back at him.

“Yeah, I will be.” a lie filled with hope slipped out. “The dropship ready?”

Roken nodded.

“I'm about to let Obi-wan know, figured I'd grab you first.”

“Lead the way then.” 

You followed Roken to the otherside of the hangar where Obi-wan was in silence, hoping once you saw him his presence would calm you down enough for you to be able to support Obi-wan in any way he needed.

He was sitting on a supply crate, holding his lightsaber in his hands as he inspected it with unease, Most likely trapped in his own thoughts just as you were moments ago.

“Are you ready?” Roken asked him as you walked over to him, your body gravitating to his side like an unknown force was pulling you. “The dropships ready.” Obi-wan stood up, clipping his lightsaber to his belt.

“You don't have to do this, you know.” Roken said, giving one more shot at convincing the two of you to stay. “We can still fix the drive!”

“I have to go.” Obi-wan said.

Roken shook his head and stared at him for a moment.

“It's not about us, is it?” he asked. “You want to do it, it's about you and him.”

A larger explosion shook the ship hard, making you grab Obi-wan's shoulder to balance, you looked at Roken with pleading eyes.

“Keep them safe.” 

“Keep yourselves safe too.”

“Roken,” Obi-wan called out. “There are not many leaders left, but people follow you…don't stop.”

Roken smirked and shook his head.

“I'm just getting started.”

  🖾

Obi-wan set a path to the nearest planet in the outer rim, not wanting to risk going back to Jabiim where the possibility of imperials were still there. Even now he expertly avoided the shots aimed at your ship, dogging and rolling with ease. You watched out the window as the large imperial ship stopped following Rokens transport.

“Entering the atmosphere.” Obi-wan said.

Your hands curled around the armrests of the co-pilot's chair as the ship rattled roughly as you approached the planet. The next minute of rough turbulence made you hold your breath before it smoothed out and you could make out the terrain of the planet below you. The sky held a dark bluish tint above you with murky gray clouds casted out making it darker than it already was, all around were pillars of rocks tall enough they reminded you of the tall buildings of Coruscant.

Obi-wan landed the ship in a small circle of clear land and powered down the ship, his fingers moving quickly across the control pad turning off the engine. You unbuckle your seatbelt and stand up and look over your shoulder at Obi-wan. He stood up and shrugged off his robe, a loud chirping noise came from his pocket as he pulled out the object and held it up to his face.

Lola beeped excitedly at him and you and Obi-wan looked up at each other and smiled, of course Leia would find a way to comfort you both even without her being present. Obi-wan handled the small droid with care and gently placed her on the dashboard, placed his robe on the pilot's chair, and took a calming breath and opened the door.

“Obi-wan.” you called out quickly, he turned to look at you with concern. “I love you.”

You watched his face soften and he reached his hand out and rested it on your cheek.

“I love you too, starlight.” 

Nothing else had to be said, you will be happy if your final words to him were those.

A warm breeze hit your skin as the hatch door lowered, your eyes held a hard gaze at the tall rocks surrounding you as you focused your mind on the target of the soon to be fight and not your emotions. It didn’t matter if it was Anakin or Vader, only one side will make it off this planet tonight.

And you will fight until there is nothing left to ensure it was the two of you.

But you could still feel the anger, fear, and sorrow building inside of you. The control of your darkest emotions had lessened greatly since the fight on mapuzo and the fear of slipping even deeper scared you. 

You weren't sure if you could stay in the light and fight Anakin at the same time.

Reaching for Obi-wan’s hand you gripped it tightly, the force of it making him look over at you in worry. He squeezed back with even more force than you did and for a moment everything else drained away.

Then you saw a ship enter the atmosphere and you were dragged back to reality.

Sucking in a deep breath you allowed Obi-wan to drop your hand as the two of you walked down the ramp and far away from the ship to prevent any potential damage. Your boots crunched loudly on the rocky terrain below you as a cold wind swept up your gray vest. You watched in silence as his ship grew closer and closer until it landed in front of you. 

The hatch to Anakins ship opened and your hand went to the hilt of your lightsaber as a cacophony of modulated breathing filled the air as he descended down the ramp, a silhouette of black slowly coming toward you like a reaper.

Planting your feet firmly in the ground, you rolled your shoulders, hoping your  false confident stance will turn into real confidence. Your eyes flickered to Obi-wan, his blue orbs looking like a stormy gray under the dark sky as you watched his jaw tighten under the weight of his teeth as Anakin began coming towards you. You gripped your lightsaber hard enough you felt the stinging bite of the groves in the metal go into the skin of your hand as the man in black stopped a mere couple feet in front of you. 

“Have you come to destroy me Obi-wan?

The blue light from Obi-wan's saber then quickly illuminated the air around you a rich blue as  Obi-wan raised his arm in position.

“I will do what I must.”

“Then you will die!” Anakin's modulated voice bellowed as the crimson red light from his lightsaber  tainted the air around you, as he moved quickly to jam his blade into Obi-wan's jugular. You parried the blow and swung up from under and knocked your saber against his and rolled to avoid Obi-wan's strike the kickup of dust getting in your eyes as you stood and spun your saber in your hands before changing your grip to stab him in the back, the heat of your blade burned a hole into his cape before Anakin sidestepped away from you and grabbed the back of Obi-wan's neck, lighting him off the ground before throwing him at your feet. 

Obi-wan recovered swiftly and rolled onto his feet and yanked you behind him  and blocked the attack as he went for both of your heads.

You and Obi-wan knew how Anakin fought and he knew how the both of you fought which created a repetitive game of attacks that forced the three of your further into the rocky terrain of pillars and gravel below your boots leaving you unsteady as lightsaber created a rainfall of sparks as the grinding of mineral surrounding you as Obi-wan shoved Anakin back until Obi-wan raised his hand and used the force to try to throw a rock down on Anakin's head. 

Anakin easily caught the rock's weight as the two fought for control before he forced pushed the rock over your heads making shatter on impact once it landed on the ground.

“Your strength has returned.” Anakin mocked before his helmet turned to you. “But the weakness remains!” he shouted before picking up a boulder and throwing it at you, you sliced through the rock and covered your head as the pieces landed behind you.

You watched as Anakin slammed his forearm into Obi-wan's nose and the loud crack that followed, the quick blight of pain allowed him to  sweep rocks under Obi-wan making him land on his back. You ran for but went stiff as he used one hand to keep you back as Obi-wan scrambled to get footing Anakin slammed his other hand on the ground, quickly quaking and cracking before a sinkhole formed, swallowing Obi-wan.

“That is why you'll always lose!”

“No!” you screamed.

You watched in horror as boulder after boulder was thrown in after Obi-wan until the sound of his screams were buried under the rocks.  Suddenly you felt your legs get pulled to the ground and your back hit the gravel beneath you as he began to drag you with the force. Shards of rock and dirt tore the fabric of your tunic and went into your back as you dug your nails into the solid earth below you to hold yourself back.

Once you were at Anakin's feet you felt the tip of his boot slam into your stomach, you gagged at the force of air leaving you as dark spots filled your vision. You didn't have time to think before you were dragged up  a rock and shoved against it, your skull bouncing off the hard matter as you and Anakin's helmet were just a few mere inches apart.

“Did you truly think you two could defeat me?” the modulated voice hissed with detest.

You gasped and struggled in the tight grasp of his robotic hand, the warmth of blood ran down the back of your neck. 

“You have failed.” he pointed out

Adrenaline was the only thing keeping you moving, the wheeze’s from your throat loud as the pressure around your throat grew. 

“I have seen your potential, Y/n” He said. “Join me and you will no longer be a failure to people. You can be powerful and feared.”

You let out a weak laugh and shook your head.

“I would much rather be a failure trying to do the right thing than to be feared by doing something wrong.” you choked out.

Lifting your leg as high as you could, you planted your foot on the chest plate of the suit and pushed him back causing him to stumble and lose his grip on you, you fell to your feet. 

It's been too long since you had to actually calculate and analyze someone in combat and it showed. You were reacting and not thinking through your next moves. If Master Stass had seen it you would have been ripped a new one.

“Focus Y/N, what is his weakness?” you asked yourself. Stumbling forward you truly looked at Vader for the first time, not as the man you once knew but who he was now.

And he was Large

That meant he was slow, his prosthetic limbs also didn't help with that either. All you had to do was be quicker and be relentless,  give him no room to breathe let alone react.

Grabbing your lightsaber you began to sprint, pumping your legs as fast as they could go you jumped and landed on Vader's back. You slammed the hilt of your lightsaber over and over into his helmet. Forcing your anger and sorrow into every hit and not stopping when you heard a crack. 

Vader's gloved hand reached up and yanked you over his shoulders by your wrist and threw you into the ground below. You activated your lightsaber and slashed at a boulder, and quickly used the force to slam it into his chest making him stumble back. Shooting your hand out, you force pulled him back to you and spun your saber and shoved the hilt into the underside of his jaw, Vader grunted in pain as you slammed your boot into his stomach.

You were enjoying it, your anger growing and fueling your muscles to slam hit after hit into him and you grinned when you were able to slash a cut across his armored chest. It was service level but the heat from it alone had to burn the already charred flesh underneath.

But Vader grew tired of your attacks and was able to grab ahold of the nape of your neck he pushed you face first into one of the large boulders and then hauled you backwards before he shoved you forward again. You face smacking the rocks until you hear a crack in your nose.

You let out a pained shout and when he went to smack you into the rock a third time the ground below began to rumble and shift beneath you. 

The ground crumbled as an explosion of rocks exploded from the ground revealing Obi-wan climbing out of the hole he was buried in and going straight to Anakin. Taking advantage of Obi-wan reemergence you swung up and slammed your fist into his throat.  Anakin choked for a moment before he refocused on Obi-wan, His lightsaber lighting up the determined look on his face as he slashed his weapon at his former best friend, you watched in amazement as Obi-wan maneuvered quickly around Anakin and parried every attack sent down on him. The clashes of light turned the air around them a bright purple luminating the fight better than the natural glum sky above them ever could.

Obi-wan forced pushed Anakin into a rock a few feet away and you flinched at the pained shout he let out as he fell to his knees. Obi-wan raised his arms above his head and rocks lifted in the air and began to plummet them at him. Anakin slowly worked himself up from the constant blows and threw himself at Obi-wan, tackling him to the ground. 

You ignored the rubble that was embedded into the skin of your back and  sprinted towards the two of them, the limp in your step slowing you down more than you wanted to admit as you made your way to Obi-wan who recovered quickly from his fall and was standing again. His gaze shifted to you for a moment, eyes wide in adrenaline and Anakin followed his gaze that soon landed on you. Flinching when he raised his hand to use the force you waited for the pressure around your throat, you were too tired and too injured to focus on putting up a mental block from him but the crushing pain never came.

Opening your eyes you saw Obi-wan interlinked their hands and was shoving the hilt of his lightsaber into the box that rested on Anakin's chest repeatedly.You heard Anakin's desperate wheezes as he tired to fight back but more and more sparks shot out as  he rammed it harder and harder into his chest before force pushing him backwards and using a bolder to knock him down on his knees, Obi-wan panted before he sprinted and sliced his helmet. The metal burned orange near his head as Anakin kneeled to the ground, Obi-wan stumbled back away from him. Sweat and blood dried to his skin and beard. 

Where Obi-wan saw the moment to stop you couldn't, you could end this nightmare right here and the bloodshed would be over.

You reached your hand toward Obi-wans and force pulled his lightsaber out of his hands and into yours, Obi-wan snapped his head towards you as you walked right up to Anakin's kneeling form, his head was tilted down so you couldn't see his face. 

Your chest heaved as you held both lightsabers in front of his neck, the blades crossed over each other.

One move, and he would be dead.

“Y/n!” Obi-wan warned, but despite knowing you should listen to your husband you couldn't bring yourself to care.

“Was it worth it?” you seethed. “Losing everyone you loved, everything you were, for this?”

Anakin just wheezed.

The lack of response had you kick him, the force of him bringing him closer to the ground as his wheezing grew louder. You felt like you couldn't breathe, the pain was beginning to choke you and you blinked back tears and out of the corner of your eye you could see his lightsaber a couple feet away from him and you blinked.

He was unarmed.

Suddenly it was like your consciousness had gained the reins of your mind again and you realized what you were doing. 

“There's still good in him.”

You've lost too much thanks to Anakin. Your freedom, your friends, your family, and your home.

You refused to lose yourself to him as well.

Deactivating the light sabers, you looked over at Obi-wan with tears in your eyes as he stepped forward and pulled you away from his former Padawan and took back his lightsaber from your shaking hands.

Then Anakin began to laugh, weak and almost breathless as he kept his head hung low.

Until he looked up at the both of you.

“Weak and pathetic.” he seethed. “Coward!”

You and Obi-wan watched in horror as half of his charred face came into the light, burned to the point his skin looked like leather leaving him almost unrecognizable. 

Obi-wan lowered his lightsaber in shock at the state of his former brother.

“Anakin” Obi-wan called out softly.

You watched as Anakin stood up and you froze as bright yellow eyes burned into you like the fires on Mustafar.

You couldn't believe those eyes are the same one that held childlike wonder the first time he saw rain.

“Anakin is gone.” he said, his voice distorted from the modulator being damaged. “I am what remains.”

You watched Obi-wans teared up and let out a shaky sigh, his face crumbling in guilt.

“I'm sorry, Anakin.” Obi-wan cried. “For all of it.”

“I am not your failure Obi-wan.” Anakin said. “You didn't kill Anakin Skywalker.”

A twisted grin pulled at the burnt skin of Anakin's cheeks.

“I did. The same way I will destroy you and her.” he spat.

You ignored the tears that burned at your eyes, threatening to fall as Obi-wan shook his head.

“Then our friend is truly dead.”

You watched the man in front of you sway as he held his lightsaber, ready to fight again.

Obi-wan put away his lightsaber and you quickly follow suit, this fight was over. And the truth was the man in front of them both now was someone who deserved to die but despite everything you or Obi-wan couldn't bring yourself to do it.

You bit the inside of your cheek  as you looked at the man who used to be Anakin Skywalker, the little boy you held at night, helped train, cooked for, and loved like he was your own blood. 

That little boy was gone and what remained in front of you was a stranger you resented.

 “Goodbye…Darth.” Obi-wan said before he turned and looked at you and without a single word he put your shoulder around him and supported your weight as you both walked away together.

Beaten, bloody, and exhausted.

Together.

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