#magic that the lost love of your life taught you before she died; then maybe they would have respected you more and maybe they

[brittlebutch]

by virtue of the GM having to play every NPC in contrast to every player having their one, it's fascinating the relationship dynamics this sets up in character throughout the narrative

[writing-frenzy]

Isekai with the Kurosaki fam; now with some UraIchi spice

So, my brain has been dumping even more ideas for a fandom I can't write for, so I guess I'll dump all the ideas on the ground and sees what happens; also, partly inspired because of DevinePhoenix's Glass Body, Steal Wings and slightly be Cannon Ichigo in AU series by Williamcipher, especially the third of the series, because ye.

Anyways, so for me, I can never imagine Ichigo would part from his sisters and Goat-face easily, even in a normal au, because it's Ichigo's family, his friends, his lost, his life experiences that makes him who he is as a person; if he died and then transferred, a part of me wonders if he would ever try and get back home somehow. So my brain went-

Brain: hey, how about we have a thing that makes the entire family get into an accident :D

Brain: And, like, maybe a day before or when Ichigo was younger, he ended up saving a godly being's most beloved person, so the god is like; hey, I owe you, I'll reincarnate your family into my world; thing is, the world the god has is maybe connected in a way to an anime/webnovel/comic one of the girls or Ichigo's friends were reading, and Ichigo knows it because he was convinced to watch/read it as bonding.

It's a world of magic and fantasy, where words and names have power and things go bump in the night ever so easily. Ichigo and his Family find themselves in a cozy little hideaway, all confused but happy and relieved to be alive and with each other. Isshin in this au will be an awkward, not the best father but he loves and he tries, and he just wants the best for all of his children. (He is the unsarcastic B+ parent, because with all the shit in this au coming, Ichigo deserves this).

Isshin in their original world is descended from a sword wielding samurai family, and he's had the forms and everything beaten into him since he was young, and the reason why he never taught Ichigo was because he didn't know how to be a gentle teacher and he never wanted to hurt his boy. (it's why he's always given his children freedom and choice of what they want.) And coming into this new world, this new place, everyone can feel a change in their bodies, can feel power in their veins even if they don't know what to do with it. See, Ichigo's mom had a little something funky with her blood but didn't know it and Isshin is actually a human with spiritual powers but with their original world it never came out, and with the God giving them a boost/perks, everyone is learning how to control themselves first and foremost.

It's after a bit of convincing and Isshin making Ichigo promise to tell him if he's going too hard that he starts teaching him the family style, along with others in scrolls with phantom teachers to guide them along. It is rough, it is harsh, but it's Ichigo so he pushes on through and becomes better for it. (The two do agree to see if they can find better teachers for the girls though, as Karin wouldn't suit this style even if she would be good with a sword, and Yuzu seems like she would be better with magic then a blade.)

The family of four spends like three years here, learning all they can, devouring every book and all they can remember of the OG!Story of this place before they all have exhausted all the sources and knowledge of the cottage, can no longer progress in their skills as they have been, and had enough cabin fever to drive any sane person down the river. But they're not stupid, so first things first, Isshin scouting at first, then with his son, before him and Ichigo take turns exploring and scouting the area because they don't like leaving the twins alone. But as they're getting a lay of the land and comparing maps and such to reality, even getting a feel for their new magic gadgets and all, they come across monsters and such here and there Once Isshin is sure that Ichigo can handle himself, its only then they spilt so one can stay with the girls while the other explores for a few days, even if Ichigo is only allowed to do it for two days to his father's week.

After that, packing everything they need into magic bags and hammer space, the family takes one last look to their home of all these years, bows in thanks before they are off. It's not long till they join a trade caravan, Isshin trading his skills as a doctor to do so. They travel around for a bit, before in the end, they settle down in a bustling, safe city that never fell in the story, even if the story's protagonist and gang lives here with all their wacky and troubling hijinxs.

So, now that backstory and such is out of the way, let's get to some of the fun stuff. :3

Ichigo does not realize just how strong he actually is; see, in this world of magic and stuff, swords are... technically considered obsolete; of sure, in the story there is a Magic Swordman who is part of the Protagonist's party, but even there they mostly use the sword as fancy focus then to actually fight with it. But with the way Ichigo was trained, as well as both his and his father's lack of common sense for this world, for them it is as easy to cut down a monster as it is to cut down spells themselves. Neither Ichigo or Isshin understand how insane that is, because once a spell is out, you usually have to dodge it or hope it hits someone else if you can't counterspell it.

The Kurosaki's also avoid the Protag and his crew; lets not get involved in your drama, please and thank you (lol, just had the thought of how protective Isshin and Ichigo would get if the story was with a Harem Protag; both would be protective as heck over the twins because with either reverse or regular harem, girls usually get the shit end of the stick). Ichigo is just fine how he is, even if he keeps getting into fights because of random assholes, his charm flowing out and getting his own loyal friends without his knowing. Karin is way too interested in magical sports to care not to mention her age while Yuzu is getting fascinated by potions, alchemy, and cooking to care.

One day, after Ichigo has been feeding some tidbits to some strays, he finds what seems to be a tea and candy shop, with books to read. it doesn't have much business, being out of the way like it is, but there is the occasional regular coming out. Ichigo shrugs, he has time and so he enters this Urahara Shoten.

Somehow, someway, he ends up making friends with Geta-boshi, who as frustrating as he is, recommends good books and a listening ear. Things lead to one things, stuff happens, and Ichigo finds out this guy also has sword.

Sparring partner acquired, though it takes some convincing, a bit of bribing, but Ichigo is able to get the other to agree; he gets his ass beat easily, but Urahara is a harsh, but good teacher, and so Ichigo just thrives in the challenge.

As for Urahara, this guy is so fucking terrifying, just like in canon, how he is assassin sharp and quick with his blade even as he can spellcast at the same time, just watching Ichigo cut through his spells to meet his blade.

Kisuke: this is the most fun I've had in ages :D I wonder what else he can do if I don't tell him what's impossible.

These two end up getting involved in some harsh canon event disasters, Ichigo fighting with Kisuke, knowing the other man won't let him down. Kisuke, having someone he can trust lead the way, knowing, having faith the other can survive alongside him...

Just, these two bonding, getting closer, Ichigo introducing his sisters and Goat-Face who is giving that weird stare.

(On Isshin's part, he recognizes what's going on, and for all that he is not going to be a hypocrite, is not going to kick this Urahara guy as hard as he can and hide Ichigo away, he suddenly... completely understands Misaki's family's cold and hard stares as he had gotten, watching how the elder blond stares at his 20 year old son like he is sun, like he can't believe there is any light in his life again after being shadowed so long. He's pretty sure that is the same stare he had given Misaki as well, just as how Ichigo looks softer, warmer, happier the minute that Urahara guy stays by his side, just how his mother would melt around him despite her expression never changing.

So, Isshin won't say anything, especially since he can tell neither has a clue... but he will be doing the protective, embarrassing Father as much as he wants.)

So yeah, this is the idea :3 I also have another idea with a Mob Protagonist!Ichigo, where he comes to be a character never even mentioned in a story, and ends up charming local shop owner Urahara Kisuke, who is secretly the terrible, scary Puppet Master Benihime without knowing it. maybe I'll note it out when I feel like it, though if people want, they can ask questions about it.

[thefandomlifechoseme]

hi, I'm here to ask abt your ghost Jaskier headcanons because you seem real excited about them!

OK SO-

Jaskier dies.

Maybe it's heroic. Maybe it's not. Maybe Geralt and Yen were there. Maybe they weren't. Maybe Ciri still beats herself up about not being fast enough. Maybe she doesn't. Maybe Geralt knew when it happened. Maybe he didn't. Maybe it was traumatic. Maybe it wasn't.

Point is, Jaskier is dead. Jaskier has been dead for centuries.

----

Geralt and Yen and Ciri are on the path still, when they stop for the night. There's a fire burning, and they're all exhausted, but Ciri is still cold, and struggling to sleep.

She could swear someone just draped their coat over her. Is holding her close. Is humming a tune long forgotten by the world. There is no-one there, but somebody is stroking her hair regardless. She closes her eyes, pretending they don't sting, that she isn't deluding herself into thinking that he is singing her to sleep, because surely Yen and Geralt would notice if they had been being haunted for the past several hundred years.

----

Years later, Yen is striking out on her own for a bit. It's not that she doesn't love her family, but she does need a break from them at times.

She is taking the long route to what was once called Cintra, because if being functionally immortal has taught her one thing, it's that she has the time to get lost in the woods. If she didn't know better, she would say that she was being followed. But there is nothing there, magical or otherwise. Even so, she is being followed. Or, perhaps, haunted. She doesn't deal with hauntings much- it's more of a Witcher's job than a Mage's, but every Mage knows the basics.

For whatever reason, her ghostly companion can't or won't show their face, but are present enough that she feels followed. She abruptly sits where she stands, and addresses the air.

"I don't have the equipment for a proper seance on me, but I am willing to allow you to perform a minor possession on me." The air is still for a long moment, as is her mind, before she gets-

unease-sorrow

a flicker-bright-snatch-of-song he never wrote

apology-fear

not-leaving-not-leaving-please

And then, clearer than the rest-

will-leave

if-you-ask

will-leave

wont-put-you-through-making-me

love-you-miss-you

He leaves her be then, and she is grateful for it as she beats herself up over this, because they should have seen this coming. How had they not see this coming? Of course Jaskier was haunting them- he'd done so often enough in life that it must have been practically second nature in death!

[autumnsghosts]

Dust to Dust

summary: When you come back from the blip in the graveyard having just been at your grandmother’s funeral, the cemetery seems like the safest place to be. Cleaning old gravestones had certainly never been a dream of yours, but now you find yourself there most days, scraping dirt and moss and algae from stones of people long dead and most likely long forgotten. It also doesn't hurt that a certain blue-eyed super soldier visits the cemetery weekly, placing flowers over two plots. pairing: Bucky x female reader word count: 7379 (this really got away from me…) warnings: some cursing, mentions of death author’s note: This is my entry into @pellucid-constellations Love Letters Writing Challenge (cut it right down to the wire)! This is only my second fic and my first time writing for Bucky. I was originally planning on writing something completely different but I couldn't get this out of my head. Completely inspired by the awesome folks who do this in real life and post about it on Tik Tok. playlist: Dust to Dust by the Civil Wars on repeat forever

You were well aware that to others, your new hobby would appear more than a bit morbid. But as you scrubbed the dirt from the tombstone with a wire brush, watching as the brown suds ran down into the soil below, all you felt was catharsis. Peace and catharsis. Cleaning old gravestones had certainly never been a dream of yours, but now you found yourself here most days, scraping dirt and moss and algae from stones of people long dead and most likely long forgotten. And that was the reason you continued. There was something comforting about being in the presence of others who had been forgotten, even if they were no longer living.

The first stone you had cleaned had been your grandmothers. Your beloved grandmother who took you and your mother in when your father walked out, no questions asked and no judgment given. Your grandmother who told you bedtime stories of fairies in magical woods and of strong princesses who didn’t need rescuing. The one who taught you to paint and to bake chocolate chip banana muffins and above all things, to be kind. Sometimes that last lesson was difficult to carry on when the world had treated you so unkindly.

When she had died, it felt like your whole world had ended. And then it really did. On the morning of her funeral, as a soft, warm wind lifted your hair and the sun beat down against the black fabric of your dress, the world had ended for what felt like a held breath. The small crowd that had gathered around the upturned earth felt suffocating and you were almost glad when they started thinning out, even if it meant you were now truly alone. After what felt like hours, eternity, you reached down to grab a handful of grave dirt and as you stood over her grave, the last person on earth who loved you, the handful of dirt slipping through your fingers and falling onto the smooth, wood casket , your own fingers turned to dust.

You could still remember the feeling, numbing cold and then nothingness before returning to the same spot, hands empty. Green grass had replaced your grandmother’s open grave and her tombstone was already dulled with the wear of 5 years. You would go back to the grave over and over again in the few weeks after the blip. You had lost your job, lost the warm, cozy home you had loved so much. The last part of your grandmother now well and truly gone. Maybe that is why you continued to go back to the cemetery, day after day. Marveling at the quiet. Wondering how the graves could go so long without anyone caring for them, becoming dirt covered and worn. So you had gotten to work, first starting with your own grandmother’s tombstone, pulling the weeds from the base, cleaning the smooth marble until it was bright again and planting a bright yellow mum at the base. You had researched the proper tools to get, the correct techniques to use as you surveyed the gravestones dating back decades. Your first course of action had been to ask permission from the caretaker, who had taken some time to track down. Just one man who should have been retired responsible for acres of final resting places. He had been thrilled for the help. And then you just couldn’t stop. You felt like you were doing something, something useful, something good.

You never felt alone as you walked through the cemetery, and sometimes you weren’t. The old cemetery frequently had visitors but was never crowded by any stretch. It had been two months, and you had still not moved on from the section of plots near your grandmother you had started in. When you returned home to your tiny walk up studio apartment, you spent hours researching the history of the names on the stones you had cleaned that day. You told yourself that you were just being methodical, cleaning stone by stone. But if you were being completely honest, you hadn’t really moved on to a different part of the cemetery because of a certain handsome stranger who came once a week on schedule, bringing a bouquet of yellow roses and white daisies to lay at the base of two headstones.

Of course, he wasn’t exactly a stranger. You knew who he was. He had cut his dark hair and kept his metal arm buried under a leather jacket and gloves, even in the heat of late summer, but you recognized him. Though you hadn’t worked up the courage to talk to James Barnes, you had certainly worked up quite the crush. The way he knelt in front of the stones of the people he was visiting, the sadness evident in his blue eyes even from afar. You felt drawn to him. Marveling at more than just his handsome face, you wanted to know him. You wanted to know who he was visiting and why he seemed so hollow. But the thought terrified you, not because you were afraid of him. You were terrified because it had been so long since you’d actually had a conversation with someone. You spent your working hours in front of a computer screen and when you weren’t working, you were here, cleaning old tombstones in ragged clothes, hair pulled up and dirt smudged on your face.

You knew, of course, that you could just look at the gravesites he visited after he left, but it strangely felt like such an invasion of privacy. The sites you cleaned were old, sometimes over a hundred years, and no one had visited them in years. This felt different, more personal, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look.

As you worked on the stone in front of you, the final resting place of Sarah Monroe, an amazing woman who has driven the city’s first bookmobile, you glanced towards the tall maple tree you always found Bucky under. He usually was here already, crouched in front of the two graves under the maple but you had yet to see him today. You surreptitiously glanced up every now and then, looking for him, but as the sky darkened and you finished with your last grave of the day, you still hadn’t seen him. You stood, dusting the dirt from your jeans and rinsing off your tools with your water sprayer. You wrapped them in a towel and placed them in your bucket, snapping a quick picture of your work and heading towards the center of the graveyard. Richard, the caretaker, would let you store some of your things in the garden shed, especially your water sprayer that made the job a lot easier but was too heavy to walk with. When you looked down at your watch, you realized it was a lot later than you realized.

When you reached the shed, you yanked on the door but it didn’t budge. Richard had never locked it on you before. You glanced down at the heavy water sprayer and tried the door again but it didn’t budge. You felt panic rising in your chest. You could just leave them here, but your tools, though not particularly expensive, had taken a while to procure on your very limited income. Plus, if the shed was locked that must mean that Richard had already left for the evening. You glanced over to the iron gate inside the high brick wall and ran, heart thudding in your chest. You weren’t necessarily concerned about being in a cemetery alone at night as much as you were concerned about being anywhere in the city alone in the dark at night. When you finally reached the gate your heart sank even lower as you noted the large lock in place through the chain, barring your exit. You dropped your tools to the ground and pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes, whirling around as if another exit was going to materialize. You desperately beat against the gate, rattling the chain which sounded particularly ominous in the empty graveyard.

“Are you okay?” In your panic, you hadn’t heard anyone approach. You screamed, tripping backwards over your bucket of tools and falling with a resounding thud right on your behind.

Bucky stood at the gate, hands raised in front of him as if you were a startled animal he was trying to placate.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said.

“You’re late,” you said, not fully recognizing the words as they poured from your mouth until it was too late to take them back. You closed your eyes tightly in embarrassment, ducking your head to avoid his gaze, missing the way his eyes crinkled in confusion.

“Not that I know your schedule or anything. Or that I watch you when you are here…oh my god, I need to stop talking.” you managed to choke out, scrambling to your feet and dusting yourself off.

But Bucky laughed, actually laughed. It was breathy and quiet but it was a laugh and you immediately looked up to see his face, broke into a grin.

“I…had some things come up. Do you need some help?” He asked, nodding towards your supplies.

“I’m actually kind of locked in?” the words sounded like a question and you heard him laugh again. You suddenly wanted nothing more but to make this man laugh for the rest of your life.

Bucky wasn’t sure if you knew who he was. He had a feeling that if you did, it was not his help you would want when you were alone at night in a dark cemetery. He glanced down at the lock before looking back up at you. It would take a simple pinch of his fingers to snap the lock open, but he didn’t exactly want to expose who he was if he didn’t have to. His session with Dr. Raynor had left him more than a little frustrated. He had thought going to visit his parents every week should count for something, some sort of way to reconcile his past, honor the Bucky Barnes he had once been. But Raynor had just reiterated again how very alone he was.

He thought about that fact as he looked at you, still clearly flustered from being scared half to death in a cemetery. He had seen you, of course. He had been intrigued by the care and concentration you gave to each grave. He had guessed that maybe you worked for the city or some historical preservation society but now he wasn’t so sure. He wanted to find out

“Why don’t you gather your things while I work on this lock.” He suggested, hoping you would turn. You seemed to understand, nodding as you turned, gathering the things that had strewn across the walkway after your trip. You heard a metallic click and then the screeching echo of the rusty gate swinging open.

“Lifesaver!” You said as you turned around. Bucky ducked his head.

“Need some help with that?” He offered, gesturing to the tools at your feet.

“I usually lock it up in the caretaker shed but I guess Richard forgot I was here tonight. I don’t want to put you out, you’ve already helped enough.”

“I really don’t mind.” Bucky said again, reaching down to grab your things, swiftly holding the water sprayer and bucket of tools with no effort.

“Thank you, seriously, I really appreciate it. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You said.

“Bucky.” He found himself saying.

The walk to your apartment is mostly quiet, but it is comfortable, occasionally filtered with questions.

“Cleaning the graves, is that your job?” He asked. You let out a soft chuckle and sighed.

“Sadly, no. That would probably make it less creepy. My…grandmother passed away, right before the blip. I was actually at her funeral when it happened and when I came back, it kind of became the only place I felt comfortable. God, that sounds so weird.”

“It doesn’t. Not at all. So you were…gone? In the blip?” He asked, his voice gentle. You nodded, glancing up at him.

“You?”

“Yeah” you both fell quiet for a few moments before he said “I think it’s pretty incredible, actually. Spending your time caring for people you'll never meet.”

You looked up at him again, catching him looking at you. You gave him a grin before ducking your head again.

The evening was turning cool, and your shirt had gotten wet in the cleaning process leaving you shivering. Bucky looked down, wanting to do something normal like offer you his jacket, but he didn’t want to break this spell, this comfortable bubble of companionship he had somehow stumbled into. He didn’t want to scare you off if you didn’t know who he was. But you were shivering and he was still the gentleman his Ma had raised, so he stopped walking, setting your tools down on a front stoop and shrugging off his jacket. He held it out, silently offering to drape it over your shoulders and you turned, grabbing the soft leather as soon as it fell over your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you said, snuggling into the jacket and Bucky felt warmth spread all the way down to his toes.

When you neared your building, your stomach dropped. You didn’t want the walk to end and you also were nervous about Bucky seeing your apartment. After losing your grandmother’s cozy brownstone, your small 5th floor walk up paled in comparison. The building was old, but not in the historic pre-war beauty of a few blocks up. Yours was crumbling with age and poor maintenance, made of chipping concrete and a front stoop with a broken step and bent railings. You hurried to get past the front of the building, hoping your creepy neighbor wouldn’t make an appearance tonight…or maybe rather wishing he would. Bucky was certainly a looming presence, maybe the creep in 4B would finally leave you alone.

As you climbed up to your apartment, you thanked Bucky up each flight of stairs. Bucky caught your nervous glances around and was on edge himself. He noticed the immediate shift in your movements and was worried that you didn’t feel safe here. When you stopped in front of the last apartment down the hall on the 5th floor, digging through your bag for your keys, he opened his mouth to say something but stopped. What would he say? Can you please find somewhere safer to live? When you finally found your keys in the depth of your tote bag, you unlocked two deadbolts, which made Bucky feel a bit better, and stepped inside, opening the door wider for Bucky to come in.

“You can just set that stuff right by the door,” you said, continuing to head inside the warm apartment. Bucky placed your tools down and then stood, closing the door and finally taking in your apartment. It was small but exceptionally cozy and nothing like his own barebones government mandated housing.

A small kitchen was directly to the right, overflowing with cooking equipment. To the left, a small dining nook, really just a table pushed up against a window, covered in a delicate lace tablecloth as well as two candles and a white pitcher with a delicate blue design holding a bouquet of dried lavender. There was floral wallpaper, mismatched rugs on nearly every bit of exposed flooring. There were no overhead lights, lamps on nearly every surface emitting a warm glow.

This home, filled with clearly loved things neatly arranged with care, felt so much like the home he grew up in that he stalled at the door, taking in a shaky breath. You must take his harsh inhale as a form of judgment because suddenly you were by his side again, taking in your space with hands clasped in front of you, fidgeting.

“I know, it’s…small. And I don’t think I could ever be described as a minimalist so, I know it’s, well…a lot”, you say.

You had taken his pause at the door to mean he was uncomfortable. You had spent the last few months scouring thrift stores, trying your hardest to recreate the cozy and safe feeling your grandmother’s home had enveloped you in as a child. But seeing a super soldier standing on your braided rug in the doorway, taking in your tufted velvet sofa and lace curtains separating your “living space” from your bed, you felt oddly embarrassed.

“No! No, it’s…it’s, uh. It’s really nice. I think…” Bucky wanted to reassure you that even through his shock, he felt instantly at peace in your home. And that’s what it was. Unlike his apartment with barely any furniture and no personal traces, your home felt like a warm hug. He could tell exactly who you were just by stepping foot inside, like he was peering straight into your mind. “I think my mom had that exact pitcher.” He said finally, gesturing to the milk glass on the table.

“Oh yeah?” You said, smiling now. You hand him back his jacket as you move towards the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove.

“Want some tea? Coffee?”

He did. Bucky felt the instant urge to never have to leave your side again and that was terrifying. You had seemingly just met. You hadn’t even taken a glance at his arm, either out of politeness or fear he wasn’t sure and he didn’t think he wanted to find out. He felt his heart rate increase, sweat beginning to gather at the nape of his neck. Flashes of memories forced their way to the surface. His mother, teaching him how to dance across the hardwood floors of their home, doing the same with his sister when she was older. Coming home to the smell of a home cooked meal, sitting together at the table, a table not unlike the one sitting to his left. Even the scent was familiar, lavender and honey. He could feel the panic rising and he knew he needed to get out of there.

“I should actually head out,” Bucky managed to say from the doorway. Your face falls for a moment before you realize that to him, you are essentially complete strangers and your silly crush is one hundred percent one sided.

“Thank you again,” you say, turning for just a moment to reach for a glass from the cupboard but when you turn towards the door again, he is gone.

You had made the decision as you lay awake that night, unable to sleep. Clearly, Bucky was visiting the graves of someone he loved, or at least someone who meant quite a bit to him. He had saved your life, or at the very least saved you from a cold and uncomfortable night spent on a park bench inside a cemetery. You wanted to do something for him, something to thank him properly, and all you kept coming back to was the gravestones. When you woke the next morning, after a fitful few hours of sleep, you had made your mind. You gathered your supplies, dressed quickly into a pair of worn jeans and an oversized gray sweatshirt and your green rain boots before heading out the door.

It was Thursday, and while you knew he wouldn’t be coming today, you still glanced over your shoulder as you neared the cemetery walls. You walked reverently towards the stones he always visited, two stones clustered together underneath one of the large maple trees that had just begun to turn color. This part of the cemetery was towards the center, away from most of the city noise and surrounded by trees. It was one of the reasons your grandmother had picked her plot so early. You thought it had been incredibly morbid at the time but now you understood. It was a beautiful place to rest.

You set your tools down, arranging them in order and mixing your cleaning solution. You inspected the stones for flakes or cracks, any damage that might be made worse by cleaning and thankfully found none. You soaked the stone with the water from your sprayer and picked up your paint scraper, gently scraping away the areas where moss had taken over, obscuring the stone. Then you got to work spraying your cleaning solution and scrubbing the stone with your brush, using a toothbrush to get in the small nooks and crannies to make sure the inscription was legible again. While you were letting the stone sit for a few minutes, you finally took the time to read the epitaphs.

Winnifred Barnes

1895 - 1955

Beloved wife and mother.

George Barnes

1891 - 1940

Beloved husband and father.

You trace the dates with your finger, breath catching in your throat, marveling at the fact that they must be Bucky’s parents.

After rinsing the stones completely with water, you stand back to admire your work. Though they are simple, they truly are beautiful, and you run your fingers over them, sending a silent hello to George and Winnifred. You wondered what they had been like. If Bucky had been close with them. If he had once had siblings. You gently arranged a bouquet of flowers at the base of each stone and slipped a note inside the wrapping.

The next week, Bucky can’t stop his eyes from drifting across the cemetery, looking for the green rain boots you always wore. He can’t help but smile when he finds you. Your back is to him, scrubbing a stone a few yards away and Bucky is surprised at the comfort your simple presence brings him. He feels like he needs to apologize. He had been on the brink of a panic attack in your apartment last week and left with barely a goodbye. When he reaches his parent’s graves, he stills. He has to do a double take to make sure he’s in the right spot. He feels a tightening in his chest, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he lets out a shaky breath and crouches down for a closer look. The stones were beautiful, back to the palest gray and their epitaphs were dark and clear. You had even laid flowers at each of them, bright, sunny bouquets that his mother would have adored. He sees a sliver of paper sticking out from the wrapping of the bouquet in front of his mother’s stone and he picks it up, delicately unfolding it.

“Bucky,

I truly hope this isn’t out of line. Normally I never see the families of the graves I clean and I think it is truly remarkable that you are still here, that you can visit their memory. I hope that this brings a bit of beauty to your weekly visits.

Thank you again,

Y/N”

Bucky is enamored with your thoughtfulness. He runs a hand over the smooth marble, taking in each detail he hadn’t bothered to notice before.

“Hey, Ma. Dad.” Bucky says, still crouching low in front of the graves. “I don’t know if this is you sending some sort of sign, but I’ll take it.” He looked up for you again before leaving his own flowers and saying goodbye to his parents.

You catch just a glimpse of his back as he leaves, shoulders hunched, completely unable to read him. Your own shoulders fall. Maybe you had overstepped? Maybe it truly had been some invasion into his private life that he resented you for? Out of anyone you could think of, you knew he certainly deserved his privacy, after everything he had been through. You knew that you only knew a fraction of it, only what they had thrown at him during his pardon proceedings. He had strangely become this constant in your life, and now that you had actually met him, had a conversation with him, you knew him to be sweet and caring. You didn’t want to think lose that now. You felt tears gathering in your eyes and you shook your head. This was stupid! You hardly knew the man, and you had overstepped. This was all on you. Instead of packing up and heading home, like you wanted, you gathered your things and moved a few stones over, preparing to start cleaning again.

After another twenty minutes had passed, you had lost yourself in the process enough to clear your mind somewhat. The music playing through your headphones certainly helped, which was why you didn’t see Bucky as he returned, a coffee in each hand.

Bucky called your name before seeing your earbuds. He transferred the coffee cups into one hand and gently laid a hand on your shoulder. Which was exactly the wrong thing to do. You screamed, stumbling back and again falling flat on your ass, wielding your putty scraper like a weapon. This time, though, Bucky laughed. A head thrown back, hand on hips laugh that you heard even over your music. You ripped out your earbuds, a hand placed over your heart and joined him. He held out a hand to help you up and then offered you one of the coffee cups in his vibranium hand, which you noticed, was not covered by a glove.

“You are going to be the death of me, Barnes.” You said, not knowing why you had the urge to call him by his last name, but the blush on his cheeks made it clear he liked it.

After he left the cemetery, Bucky had begrudgingly called Sam. He had been out of the game for…a long time. Sam, after teasing him relentlessly, had told him to just be direct. Ask you out for coffee, if that would be easier than dinner. So instead, Bucky brought the coffee to you.

You reached out to grab the coffee, brushing the hair back from your face with your other hand and smudging dirt across your forehead. Without pausing to think, Bucky leaned forward and swiped a thumb across your forehead, clearing the smudge. “You had some dirt.”

He was being bashful, you thought. That had to be a good sign that he wasn't angry with you. That and the coffee he had brought. Maybe you hadn’t truly messed everything up.

“Thanks,” you breathe out, holding up the coffee in a salute.

“Do you have time for a break?” Bucky asks, nodding towards the bench just across from you.

“Yeah, just give me a second to rinse this one off.” Bucky reaches for the coffee cup and then watches you work, spraying down the stone with water and watching the brown suds clear. You held such concentration, such reverence as you moved around the stone, making sure all of the soap was gone, reaching down to swipe away a few errant strands of grass that had plastered to the bottom of the stone. He liked the way your nose scrunched in concentration, the tilt of your head as you examined your work. When you were done, you looked up and he realized you had caught him staring, but you gave him a soft smile, reaching out your hand.

“Okay, all set.” You said, taking the coffee he offered back to your outstretched hand. You walked over to the bench, sitting close but not touching. At first the silence was awkward, both not sure what to say. Bucky ran a hand across the back of his neck, letting out a quiet chuckle before turning to you.

“I want to say thank you. For taking care of my parents' graves. That was…I just really appreciate it. They deserve that.” He finally said.

“It was my pleasure. You deserve it too, you know.” You wanted to shy away from his gaze but you held strong, making sure to look in his eyes so he would know you meant it.

“I don’t know about that.” You noticed the instant his body language changed and you knew not to push so you changed the subject, asking him gentle questions about his parents and were pleasantly surprised when he answered. He told you stories about growing up with his best friend Steve, the trouble they would get into. He asked you about your grandmother, about your life before the blip. You didn’t realize how much time had gone by until the sky began to darken, your coffee long gone.

Bucky helped you store your tools into the shed and offered to walk you home. This time, he said goodbye at your door, not coming inside and you reached up to wrap him in a quick hug before you lost your nerve. He was stiff at first before he wrapped his arm around you. He smelled like leather and citrus.

You watched him as he walked down the steps, turning once to give you a wave. When you head in, locking the door behind you, eager to take a shower and wash off the dirt, your hand brushes against something in the pocket of your sweater. You reach in and pull out a folded piece of paper with a phone number scrawled across it and on the back “dinner tomorrow?”

You can't help the excited squeal as you hold the note to your chest before sticking it on the fridge with a magnet. You make yourself wait to text him until after your shower. You rush through making dinner, settle in on your sofa and clutch the phone in your hand like a lifeline. Finally, you type in his number.

“That was very sly of you, Barnes.”

“Too much?” he responds, just a moment later. You grin at the phone.

“Not at all. Tomorrow night is great. Where should I meet you?”

“I’ll pick you up. 7 okay?”

“Perfect.” You send with a smile.

When he picks you up the next evening, he has a bouquet in his hands. He walks you to a diner just a few blocks away, and you grin up at him. It was a favorite spot for you and your grandmother. The waitress, Stella, an old friend of your grandmother gives you a hug when you come in, ushering you to a corner booth and teasing you about how handsome your date is.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky consumes your life. He meets you at the cemetery each week, walking you home at night. Sometimes he comes in, and you watch a movie on your couch, usually ending up with your head on his shoulder. You meet for coffee and sometimes dinner at the diner. You spend late nights on the phone. Through bits and pieces, he starts to share his life with you. His past life, his guilt.

Sometimes he stays the night, though usually only when you both fall asleep on the couch and you have both yet to make a move, to turn this into something more. On one of those nights you wake in your bed, unsure of how you got there before seeing Bucky hunched over on the couch, clearly not sleeping. He must have picked you up and tucked you in after you fell asleep. You sit up, whispering a quiet “hey”, just to make sure he really was awake. He turns to you then, and you see his eyes, haunted and wide. You move towards him slowly, not wanting to make any sudden movements and frighten him away. As you sit down next to him on the couch, you take his hand in yours, rubbing your fingers over his knuckles.

“Nightmares?” you ask, already knowing the answer. He had mentioned them to you before, though only briefly and never wanting to get into them.

He nods, still not turning to look at you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask, voice still low. He shakes his head and you lean in closer, trying to offer him your warmth.

“Okay. What can I do?” you ask. At first you think he isn’t going to answer, but then he inhales and lets out a long breath, angling towards you.

“Why do you clean the tombstones?” he asks. His voice is rough from lack of sleep.

It takes you a minute to answer, not sure exactly what to say.

“I think…,” you start before taking a breath, “I think it’s because I felt so alone. Alone and worthless, if I’m being honest. I guess I didn’t feel like I had done enough to help my grandma when she was alive. Maybe it started as a way to try and apologize to her.” Bucky looked up at that, eyes wide. You shifted closer to him and he draped an arm around your shoulders.

“I think it started out of guilt, out of…just emptiness, but the more that I did it, the more I felt useful. It sounds silly but I never felt alone when I was in the cemetery. I felt…feel…safe and comforted.”

You are both quiet for a long time before Bucky speaks. “I’ve been working since my pardon to...make amends. For the things I did.”

“Bucky, that wasn’t you. You didn’t have control…” you start and he shakes his head. “I know. I know that. But the things he did. I’m not him anymore, but those things are still in my head, it doesn’t feel like it’s separate from me and I can’t…” he breaks off in a gasp.

You pull him in closer, wrapping your arms around him and carding your hands through his hair.

“Do you think maybe it might help? Cleaning the stones? Would you teach me?” You lean back just enough to look in his eyes.

“Of course I’ll teach you, Bucky. I don’t know if it will help but of course I will.”

And you do. You meet in the cemetery twice a week, showing him how to scrape and scrub. How to check for damage before continuing. Bucky is surprised to find that he truly enjoys the work. It forces him to concentrate just enough to clear his mind and he likes being outside. He tells you that in time, he’d like to look for some of the Winter Soldier’s victims, to find where they are buried and do the same for them and you spend evenings researching with him, keeping lists of places you hope you will be able to go with him.

When Autumn is in full swing and the temperatures dip into the forties, making it unsafe for the gravestones to be wet, you still meet in the cemetery, sometimes sharing a picnic, sometimes just talking. It had become such a part of his routine now, something he didn’t have to think about. It left room to think about your smile, your kind, sweet voice, the lavender scent of your hair. He could think about how close you had become, something just more than friendship.

Bucky had been waiting on the bench beneath the maple tree for the last 45 minutes. After thirty, he had called you, just to check-in. For the last few months you had been meeting, you had never missed a day. You had never been so much as five minutes late and he was starting to worry. He wiped his palm on his black jeans, realizing he was sweating.

He couldn’t stop the thoughts that immediately rushed through his mind. Glimpses of you, taken by invisible hands. Someone taking revenge for the things he had been forced to do. After the third unanswered call, he bolts up, unable to pause to wonder if he is overreacting. He’s at your apartment in no time, knocking on the door.

You hear the sound, a gentle knock, coming from just outside of your awareness. You had been lost in the hazy space between dreams and wakefulness and it was hard to open your eyes, fatigue weighing heavily on your entire body. You don’t remember when exactly you fell asleep or how long you’ve been in bed. It could quite possibly have been last night or two days ago. It felt as if every muscle in your body had been hammered with a meat tenderizer and your throat was on fire. Your chest tightened every time you let out a shaky breath, wheezing as you attempted to suck in air. You didn’t think you had ever felt so sick. You were drenched in sweat, sheets soaked through and yet you were shivering. You had the vaguest notion that you were meant to be somewhere, that you were forgetting something important but you couldn’t fight through the thick fog in your brain to remember. You attempted to sit up, desperate to get a drink of water but you felt as if you were moving through mud. You heard the knock again, wondering if you were still sleeping. You called out a weak hello, attempting again to get off your bed but stumbling and falling to the floor.

“Y/N, I’m coming in!” you heard, and though you were miserable you smiled at the sound of his voice.

“Bucky” you whispered.

You heard a loud bang and the sound of splintering wood.

He was by your side in an instant, placing the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Jesus, you’re burning up, doll.” Bucky gently lifts you up, placing you on the bed. You barely recognize the movements but you are instantly filled with relief.

“Have you taken anything for your fever?” he asks, brushing the hair from your eyes. You shake your head no.

“Shower,” you whisper, realizing just how crusty you feel. Bucky glances to the bathroom door and back to you. He gives a quick nod and searches your drawers for a pair of clothes for you to change into and a towel and stacks them neatly on the sink.

“Do you think you can manage?” he asks and you nod again, slowly standing up and accepting his help to the bathroom door. He turns on the water, adjusting the temperature so it is just slightly warm, not wanting to overheat you more than you already are.

“I’ll just be in the kitchen, okay?” His face is clouded with worry so you attempt to smile reassuringly but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You leave the door open a crack and only start to undress when you hear him in the kitchen, the comforting sounds of him making tea and rifling through your drawers.

Initially, the shower feels good, but after a few minutes, it is becoming increasingly difficult to stand. When you turn the water off, you hear a knock on the open door. Bucky reaches through the curtain to hand you your towel and you realize just how cold you are now that the water is off. Shivering, you towel off and wrap the towel around you, carefully opening the shower curtain and accepting Bucky’s hand. You briefly think this isn’t how you wanted the first time he saw you naked to go and Bucky chuckles, his face turning crimson. You must have said that out loud. There is no time to feel embarrassed at the moment, though, because all you want is to get back into your bed under hundreds of blankets and sleep for eternity.

Bucky turns around to let you get dressed as you sit on the edge of your bed for support and you notice that he’s also changed your bedsheets. There is a cup of tea perched on your nightstand along with a full cup of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. After helping you take the medicine and drink a few sips of tea, Bucky tucks you in, pulling the extra quilt from the end of your bed. He turns to leave just as your eyes drift closed but you hold out a hand, desperate in your fever haze for him to stay.

“Are you sure? I’ll just be right over there if you need me.” He points to the couch across your studio apartment, but you nod, grabbing onto his hand and tugging with what little strength you have. Bucky kicks off his boots and takes off his jacket.

He lies down next to you, stock still, feet crossed at the ankles and arms crossed over his chest.

“Cold.” You mutter, teeth chattering, and the sound breaks Bucky’s heart. He turns then, opening his arms and you shuffle closer. Bucky inhales as you snake your arm around his neck, leg hitching over his hip, just trying desperately to get warm and completely lacking any inhibitions you normally would have in your feverish state. Bucky pauses for a moment, frozen, before wrapping his arm around your back. His fingers trail through your hair as you nuzzle deeper into his shoulder and the last thing you remember before finally drifting to sleep is a gentle kiss on the crown of your head.

You wake often through the night, each time Bucky is already awake and looking at you, asking if you are alright. He gives you more ibuprofen once during the night but you never truly stop touching. The weight of his arm around you is a comfort. When you wake in the morning, the sun is already making its way higher in the sky and you don’t feel quite as achey. You roll over slightly, watching as the light drifts across the floor, filtered through the lace curtains. You reach a hand out to find Bucky but you are met with cold sheets. Had you dreamed he was there? But as you sit up, looking at the cup of tea you definitely don’t remember making, you find a note.

“Heading to the hardware store so I can fix your door. I’ll be back soon. - Bucky”

Fix your door? It occurs to you only now that Bucky must have kicked it in to get inside last night. You roll out of bed, grabbing the robe hanging on the bedpost and sliding your socked feet into your coziest pair of slippers before making your way to the bathroom. You splash some water on your face and brush your teeth before heading towards the kitchen. Bucky is already back, unloading a paper bag of every type of cold medicine you have ever seen. You smile gratefully at him as you see he also brought you a coffee and a bagel from the shop down the street that you love so much.

“Buck, you didn’t have to do any of this.” You said as you came up beside him. He takes a moment to answer, as if he is steeling himself to say something.

“I was, uh. I was really worried when you didn’t show and weren’t answering your phone.” He pauses to clear his throat. He fiddles with one of the boxes of medicine, turning it over in his hands before setting it back on the counter. He looked around your kitchen, eyes stopping at your fridge and the tiny note with his phone number that was still stuck there.

“I was worried that somehow…because of who I am, something had happened to you. And I realized how devastating that would be…to me. God, I was terrified, doll. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.” He stepped closer, cupping your cheek and lowering his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry I worried you.” You whispered, just as he said “Your fever’s gone down.”

He chuckled.

“Please don’t be sorry. Honestly I kind of needed the push. Because I’ve been denying just how hard I’ve fallen for you.”

You sucked in a breath, looking up into crystal blue eyes that felt like home. After a moment Bucky let out a nervous chuckle.

“You’re killing me, doll. Say something. Am I out of line?”

“I really want to kiss you right now, Barnes.” You said, finally.

“What’s stopping you?”

“You’ll get sick,” you said with a smile.

“Super soldier, remember?”

“A definite perk, I guess.”

You were smiling as your lips touched, a gentle, sweet kiss that held the promise of something more. And despite the exhaustion in your bones, the ache in your head you were exquisitely happy.

“You need rest. Plus, I need to fix your door. Gotta keep my girl safe.” He said, giving you another peck on the lips. You couldn’t argue with that.

[griffintail]

Hi I'm so so sorry for bothering you! I absolutely love your child reader x parent dreamsmp series, it's amazing!! I had an idea for the lost ones though, or a seperate scenario if that's okay!!! What if the baby was a witch? Witches exist in minecraft, so what if as the child gets older, their powers grow. Windows breaking when they cry, things floating mid air, sparks and fires from their hands, things like that?? I think it'd be really interesting if you want to write it!! If not all the lost ones, then just tge sbi seperate please! Thank you so so very much, i love this series and i cant wait till the next part!!!!!

Magical Born

Pairings: Tommy, Technoblade, Wilbur, Philza, and Ghostbur x F! Child! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of raids, mentions of death, light blood, light violence

A/N: It’s based on Lost Ones Canon, all over the timeline, but it is NOT canon. I didn’t write all of Lost Ones because it’s already a lot to write Lost Ones as its own entity :P I added Ghostbur though for fun because I just really like Ghostbur. Technically he’s part of the SBI!

I went further than planned though so enjoy. ♥

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TommyInnit

        Tommy screamed as he ran from Fundy, who had caught him stealing from his house, (Y/N) sitting on his shoulders as she laughed. He was making for the sewers as (Y/N) waved at Fundy.

        “Bye, bye furry.” She smiled.

        “YOU’RE SO DEAD TOMMY!” Fundy shouted.

        But now Tommy was laughing hysterically as he quickly turned a corner and made for Tubbo’s entrance into the sewer. Tubbo startled when his door opened.

        “What the—” Tubbo questioned.

        “No time, good luck big man.” Tommy saluted, (Y/N) waving her hand before Tommy held (Y/N) and jumped into the entrance.

        “WHERE IS HE!” Fundy came in a moment later.

        “Damn it, Tommy,” Tubbo muttered under his breath.

        Tommy laughed as he pushed his wet hair back, (Y/N) clapping her hands.

        “Big score for us little (F/L). And extra disc time for calling him furry.” Tommy grinned. “Let’s get home with it all.” Tommy walked along the pathway, letting (Y/N) walk behind him.

        (Y/N) clapped excitedly hearing extra disc time. She bounced slightly behind him as Tommy was bragging about this adventure.

        “The furry may be an easy target to take, but we managed to escape successfully, becoming richer!” Tommy said to the little girl, who continued to bounce, announcing as she did.

        “Boing!” She giggled.

        Tommy chuckled, not looking back at her. She had a lot of energy like him and always had to find easy solutions to let it out.

        “Boing!” She squealed with delight and Tommy froze where he was walking as she…float over and past him??

        “…What the fuck?!” He shouted, dropping the bag of stolen loot.

        “Boing!” She jumped over to the other walkway of the sewer water.

        Tommy put his hands through his hair as he watched his child fucking float.

        “What the fuck is going on?” He muttered, looking around.

        She jumped over to him, and he yelped as he caught her, staring at her.

        “Hi, big man.” She giggled.

        “We’re going back to Tubbo.” Tommy nodded, picking the bag and walking back down the tunnel. “No jumping.”

        (Y/N) gave a pout but didn’t jump as she followed after Tommy. He had her go up the ladder first before following after. Luckily, Tubbo had gotten rid of Fundy, looking rather miffed as he went back to sorting his chests.

        “I already got rid of Fundy, what are you doing?” Tubbo groaned, seeing the pair.

        “Dude, you got to see this, I don’t get it,” Tommy told him. “Ok, (Y/N) jump.”

        She smiled again before bouncing around. Tubbo raised an eyebrow as she bounced around like normal and Tommy was concerned for his mental health for a moment when she started to take large leaps again.

        “What the hell!” Tubbo freaked out.

        “Exactly!” Tommy motioned to the girl, who was making her own sound effects as she jumped.

        “Could…has she always done this?”

        “NO! You think I wouldn’t say if she always did this?!”

        “What the hell?” Tubbo put a hand on his head.

        “I know!”

        Then (Y/N) jumped too high and hit her head on the ceiling, crashing on the ground.

        “Shit!” Tommy flailed his arms for a moment before rushing over to the little girl.

        He made sure she had no serious injuries as she started to tear up then cry.

        “Hey, it’s ok.” Tommy tried to assure her, gently rubbing where she hit her head.

        But she only cried harder and Tommy and Tubbo both screamed as the windows in the room exploded. Tommy was hugging (Y/N) to him, looking at Tubbo with wide eyes as Tubbo was looking around wildly at the shattered glass.

        “What’s going on?” Tubbo gestured wildly to the windows.

        “I don’t know!” Tommy said exasperated, still gently rubbing his hand on her head, the effect doing good now.

        The little girl died down to sniffles as Tommy connected the dots.

        “Wait, she cried and the windows broke. I think that was her.”

        “What?”

        “I-I don’t get how it works but she’s doing these crazy things.”

        “Do-Do you think she’s magic or some crap?” Tubbo threw out whatever he could.

        Tommy’s eyes went wide as he nodded. “That has to be it! I mean…I don’t know where she came from after all.” He muttered now, looking at the little girl.

        “So, what, she’s a witch?” Tubbo huffed.

        “I guess…” Then Tommy’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Tubbo, can you imagine all the things we could get away with?”

        Tubbo frowned as Tommy now, as Tommy put (Y/N) down as she had calmed down.

        “This could be great! We’ll need to figure out how to teach her of course…”

        “We don’t even know what we’re doing with her as a normal kid!” Tubbo flailed his arms.

        “But she’s still alive.” Tommy pointed at his friend and Tubbo put his head in his hands. “We’ll be the greatest, richest crime trio!”

        “She’s a child!” Tubbo protested but Tommy picked (Y/N) up.

        “You can help me out now little (F/L).”

        The chaos they could cause once they figured out exactly (Y/N)’s powers were. Tommy couldn’t wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wilbur

        “Alright little star, we have to go talk with a few people today but after, we’ll play together, just you and me,” Wilbur promised the little girl as he held her hand.

        They were wearing their matching L’Manberg uniforms and (Y/N) was humming as she walked beside him, their first stop at Niki’s bakery.

        “Ok.” She nodded with a smile.

        “Thank you, little star. Why don’t we get some cookies from Niki to make sure we’re not hungry while we walk?” Wilbur offered with a smile.

        “Yes pwease!” (Y/N) grinned.

        “Please.” Wilbur corrected gently.

        “Hello!” Niki greeted the pair as they came in. “How are you two?”

        “We’re well Niki, I hope you are as well.” Niki nodded and Wilbur went on. “I’ve come to talk to a few the citizens around L’Manberg,” Wilbur told her. “And we were also hoping to have some of your best cookies while we’re working.”

        “Your very best.” (Y/N) agreed.

        “Of course, I just finished a new batch. Would you like to see?”

        (Y/N) looked up at Wilbur with puppy dog eyes and he chuckled. “Alright, but you have to stay away from the furnaces, they’re going to be hot.”

        “Ok!” She nodded before the two went around back into Niki’s area.

        As (Y/N) watched the woman in infatuation put a new batch into the oven as she was taking the other out, putting them up to cool for the few minutes Wilbur was talking with her about how her life in L’Manberg was. The adults continued to talk as (Y/N) was now looking at the furnaces curiously, wondering how the fire worked to make the cookies.  While she was, Niki suddenly screamed, making the little girl jump as Wilbur looked around in a panic to see why she screamed.

        Wilbur saw after a moment, (Y/N)’s hands had little fires on them! (Y/N) spotted them as well and gave a shriek as his reactions kicked in as he spotted a bucket of water. He snatched it up before quickly throwing it on his little girl. The fire was gone as the girl stood soaking wet, Wilbur bolting over to check her hands.

        “I told you not to go near the furnaces!” Wilbur scolded as he carefully took her hands.

        “I-I didn’t daddy.”

        Wilbur looked at her hands confused though. She didn’t have a single burn.

        “How…” He muttered.

        “I stayed away. Just like you said.” (Y/N) shifted uncomfortably in her wet clothes.

        Wilbur looked at Niki, who had run and came back with a health potion.

        “She’s not hurt,” Wilbur told her.

        “What?” Niki looked at him with wide eyes.

        “I-I don’t know how,” Wilbur said, looking back at the little girl, freezing up as he did.

        All of the sudden…her clothes and hair were completely dry! He hesitated before touching her jacket, indeed finding it free of water.

        “Niki…I have no clue what’s going on.” Wilbur gently pulled (Y/N) to him. “Sweetie, how did you do that?”

        “Do what?” She asked confused.

        “You don’t have any water on you anymore.” Wilbur pointed out to her and she looked at her clothes, before shrugging.

        “I don’t know.”

        “Have…you ever done that before?” He questioned and she shrugged again.

        “How…how do you think it happened,” Niki asked him.

        “I’m not sure,” Wilbur muttered. “I need to send a letter to Phil or Techno; they’ve seen a lot more things in their time. I appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone Niki.”

        “Of course.” The soft-spoken woman nodded.

        “Thank you, we’re going to go home early little star.” Wilbur stood up.

        Niki still gave them a few cookies and Wilbur brought (Y/N) home, making a bird call outside first.

        “Whoa, that was cool!” (Y/N) grinned as a crow landed on Wilbur’s shoulder.

        “It’s one of my father’s crows, they’re usually all around,” Wilbur told her as they went inside.

        “Your dad?”

        “I guess I’ve never told you about him.” Wilbur chuckled quietly as he sat, writing a letter to both Techno and Phil. “My father, Philza Mine Craft, is pretty old but he’s a great dad. He taught me a lot and he’s been through a lot. I’ve told him about you a few times, I suppose I forgot to tell you about him in return.” Wilbur ruffled her hair lightly, making her giggle. “I don’t talk to my brother Techno as much though…we had some arguments in the past. I’m hoping maybe we’ll put that aside to see what be happening with you.”

        He signed off the letters and let the crow have them before they flew off.

        “We’ll know in a few days though I suppose. Now, let’s play some music while we eat these cookies.” Wilbur offered out.

        Waiting for a return letter became a little more desperate the next few days. Not only had Wilbur found his daughter’s hands liked to spontaneously combust with flames sometimes, through some careful observing, but he also found if she was particularly happy she’d find herself being able to jump to his height; and thanks to Tommy, when the boy had come to visit to get instructions from Wilbur, he decided to scare the little girl, causing her to scream and Tommy, in turn, screamed when all the windows shattered.

        “Not a word!” Wilbur immediately demanded as he made sure (Y/N) wouldn’t step on any glass. “To anyone.”

        “What the fuck?!” Tommy screeched.

        Wilbur was tempted to force the boy to stay at the house to ensure word didn’t get out but after a bit of time, he got Tommy to promise him. Finally, two separate letters came in to tell him the same thing.

        (Y/N) might be a witch.

        Techno was a bit blunter about it, proceeding to tell Wilbur off a bit for just taking some orphan, but Wilbur knew it was just his brother’s ways and didn’t hold it against him. Phil’s letter had a bit more useful information and he had once researched witches. Wilbur kept that letter safe as he came out to find (Y/N) jumping around with her powers. She was smart and figured out how to activate it, she often liked to play with her floating power.

        Wilbur wondered what else she might be able to do…It was a rather terrifying thought but he’d learn regardless. She was still his little star, witch or not.

        “You’re getting good at that little star.” Wilbur praised as he came over.

        He also let the thought cross his mind if that’s why she was abandoned but pushed it away. That didn’t matter, she was his little girl now and they’d figure it out together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Technoblade

        Techno watched from the porch with crossed arms as (Y/N) laughed while running from Tommy, who was armed with two snowballs. Tommy did know how to bring the energy out of his kid. (Y/N) stumbled and fell, Tommy, grinning with victory as he stood over her but the little girl reacted fast and threw snow at him before running again with a giggle at Tommy’s temporary blindness.

        Tommy shouted profanities as Techno smirked, the voices praising his child. That’s his little girl.

        “How much longer are you two going to be out here?” Techno called now.

        “Not much longer!” Tommy shouted before swearing again as (Y/N) managed to hit with a snowball while he was distracted. “THAT’S CHEATING!”

        “All is fair in war!” She demanded.

        “Don’t track snow in the house,” Techno told them before going back into the house.

        Phil was tending to one of his crows as Techno came back in.

        “They alright?” Phil asked.

        “They’re fine.” Techno nodded, going over to his enchanting equipment.

        “I’m proud of you, mate. For taking in that little girl and making sure she’s happy.”

        Techno simply shrugged as he was glad, he had taken in the little girl as well. Life would be nearly the same. He often thought about how things might have been different if she wasn’t around, he probably would have already taken out L’Manberg but he held back for her. He didn’t need people hunting him down again right now and find out about her…

        He was taking off his pick to put a new enchantment on it when his world slowed hearing a scream and Tommy shouting loudly. Running out with his pick in hand, Phil grabbing his sword off a chest as he ran after, he found (Y/N) shaking on the ground as a wolf stalked towards her as Tommy had a bloody arm. Techno dropped his pick as he ran over, taking off his crossbow, a bolt already loaded.

        He took a shot at the wolf but his panic made him sloppy and he missed! It went over the wolf, it not noticing until…

        The bolt turned around all of the sudden and hit the wolf right in the front leg. It gave a yelp, snarling as it backed away from the little girl now, who was scrambling back.

        “B-Bad wolf!” She shouted as she shook.

        The wolf noticed the approaching pissed off man and cut its losses, running off with a limp. Techno was most certainly confused about the bolt but he had other worries. Phil was already going over, tending to Tommy as Techno came next to (Y/N), putting a hand on her shoulder.

        “You, ok? It didn’t hurt you, did it?” He asked as he quickly checked the little girl.

        “No.” She shook her head before hugging him. “It hurt Tommy.”

        “I know, Phil’s got him though.” Techno hugged her before picking her up. “Let’s get inside.”

        Phil was helping Tommy inside as Techno followed, picking up his pick.

        “If it hurt Tommy, is it ok it got hurt?” (Y/N) asked Techno.

        “Yes, because it was about to hurt you too. So, it’s ok. That’s defense.” Techno told her but he wasn’t sure what happened.

        The bolt had certainly missed and then flew back, striking it in the leg.

        “I didn’t want to hurt it.” She mumbled. “But it’s right.”

        Techno was confused by her words, but maybe she had gotten confused with her own words. He put it to the side for now as he spent a bit of time with her for the rest of the day to make sure she was alright. After he put her down to sleep, he came down into the main room where Phil was sitting by the fire. Techno sat across from him and brought up the thought he had put aside.

        “(Y/N) said something weird today.”

        “What was that?” Phil looked at him.

        “She said she didn’t want to hurt that wolf. Like she was the one who fired the crossbow.”

        Phil hummed, looking out the window. “Something was weird, I saw that bolt move on it’s on.”

        “Good, I’m not losing my mind.”

        Phil gave a quiet laugh. “Not yet my son. But something odd did happen. Have you ever seen anything like that?”

        “No…Not around here at least. I’ve seen witches do stuff like that though. That’s why they’re difficult to kill sometimes.” Techno took off his mask for the day, putting it down safely on the fireplace mantle. “If there had been a good witch around, I’d say it was them.”

        “I haven’t seen a witch in some time. Pretty rare these days, some people don’t like their power with magic and hunt them down. They’ve pretty much gone into hiding.” Phil nodded.

        “Sounds about right,” Techno grumbled, leaning against the stone of the fireplace, closing his eyes.

        “Mate, you don’t think…(Y/N) might be a witch?”

        “Doubt it. Would have meant she was magic born; they wouldn’t have just left her on someone’s doorstep for them to die.”

        “It’s rare but she could have been naturally born, with normal parents, and we’re now just finding out.”

        “Even then, when she was born, she shows signs. A magical birth has effects while they’re born. The parents would have known.”

        That made Techno frown now at the thought as he looked over at quiet Phil, who had the same frown. They were both thinking the same thing; what if they left her because of the magical birth?

        “It would explain why she said she hurt the wolf.” Phil leaned back as well on the other side of the fireplace.

        “Yeah…I’ll find out more in the mor—”

        Both Phil and Techno jumped up with muscle memory at the sound of (Y/N) screaming. Phil’s crows cried out in panic as Techno was first up the ladder to find (Y/N) whimpering as she hugged herself as a few objects floated around the room. Techno went to her side as Phil came up, Tommy shouting up as he had been startled awake by the noise.

        “Hey, it’s ok little goddess,” Techno muttered to her, putting a hand on her side.

        “T-The wo-wolf.” She whimpered.

        “It can’t hurt you. I won’t let it.” Techno told her, sitting next to her and pulling her into him. “And neither will Phil or Tommy.”

        She gave a few more soft whimpers before everything in the room slowly floated down, Tommy standing on the ladder, watching amazement.

        “You’re alright,” Techno promised, looking at Phil, the two sharing a meaningful look. “We won’t let anything or one hurt you.”

        There was just more of a reason to keep (Y/N) their secret. He’d have to brush up on his knowledge about witches as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phil

        “Alright, it’s been a while since I’ve done this,” Phil told the little girl. “So, I got to do a bit of practice.”

        “Ok.” The little girl tried to have patience as she was taught but couldn’t help but bounce in excitement.

        Phil chuckled, ruffling her hair, before spreading his wings. “Ok, let’s see if I still remember this…”

        He took a deep breath before taking flight; he grinned as he felt the wind flying by, enjoying the wonderful memories that came to him. Flying had been something he had really missed. From the ground, (Y/N) cheered in the snow as she jumped, clapping. Phil chuckled at his little girl’s reaction as he took a few warm-up laps to make sure his wings were truly back in shape.

        Techno looked up from his work at the commotion, coming out as he took off his glasses. Going out, he looked to see Phil snapping by in flight and he smiled watching his father flying again. He had seen how it affected him to be trapped on the ground. Across the field, he spotted his little sister running after their father rather uselessly but she jumped as she followed after the older man, cheering as she did.

        The older brother shook his head as he watched his father again as he leaned his back on the railing, a few of Phil’s crows flying beside him as they were going over the roof. Techno was watching when another figure went over his head, giving a shriek.

        “Techno!” (Y/N) said and Techno fell backward off the railing of the steps, his cape over his face, but he shouted out.

        “PHIL!”

        Phil looked over to find his daughter now falling to the ground?! With practiced ease, he turned and caught the girl before she hit the ground. He took a bit of a crash into the snow as his crows gave out a few cries in panic but he was alright. It wasn’t the first time he had crashed after a flight.

        (Y/N) looked around a bit of daze before grinning and throwing up her arms. “Again!”

        “Did you throw her?!” Phil exclaimed as Techno threw his cape off his face.

        “What!? No!” Techno huffed as he stood up, brushing snow off himself. “I was watching you and all of the sudden she was over my head!”

        “That makes no sense, mate.”

        “I didn’t throw her; I actually like her more than my brothers.”

        Phil looked at the little girl, who was still grinning even though she could have gotten hurt. “What happened?”

        “I jumped and I flew like you! It was a bit scary and I almost fell.” She told him animatedly. “But then you caught me and it was like Whoosh!”

        Phil looked at Techno as Techno was raising an eyebrow at the explanation.

        “Y-You jumped and flew?” Phil turned his attention back to her.

        She nodded. “I was jumping after you because I was excited.”

        “Why���don’t we go inside and then I’ll take you on a flight, alright?” Phil asked her.

        She gave a little pout but nodded. He nodded as well before standing up, letting her walk on her own. Techno followed the pair in and they let (Y/N) be before Phil spoke to Techno alone.

        “I…have a feeling (Y/N) might have magic.”

        “You think?” Techno snorted. “Where’d you find her again?”

        “A village during a raid,” Phil muttered, glancing over at (Y/N) as she was playing with a few of her toys as one of his crows kept an eye on her as a few of them were just as protective of her as he was.

        “They could have been there to get her family. Pillagers tend to like magic and hearing about magic users, they probably were there for them.”

        Phil nodded. It made sense; the village he had found was a pretty small farming village it had seemed. It had been odd to him how they were raided but now it made a bit of sense…

        “Guess I’ll have to brush up a bit on my witch knowledge. It’s been a few years since I’ve run across one, good or bad.”

        “Yeah, it’s been some time. Heard around the arctic that a few of them were going into hiding. Probably because of the pillagers.” Techno nodded, as he went over to his potions to do a bit of work.

        “Dadza! Your crows talk?!” (Y/N) exclaimed in excitement.

        Phil paled as Techno snorted into his potion ingredients chest.

        “You need to learn what the hell they can do too,” Techno said.

        That was going to take a bit of time to learn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ghostbur

        “No one else was in the room where it happened. The room where it happened. The room where it happened.”

        Ghostbur clapped as he sat on nothing as he floated above the ground as he watched his daughter sing and do her own little dance. Tommy had taught her all about his favorite musical and taught her a few of the songs. She now wanted to show off what she learned to her father and Ghostbur was more than happy to sit and watch his little blue. He even made sure Friend was there to give her a proper little audience.

        She stumbled over a few words occasionally but he loved watching and listening to her regardless. Once she finished the song, she gave a little curtsy with her hoodie and Ghostbur clapped, giving a joking call of an encore as Friend gave a baa. She giggled, coming over and hugging him. He gladly returned the hug, nuzzling the top of her hoodie.

        “That was wonderful little blue! I can teach you a few more songs and you can sing more for Friend and me!” He smiled.

        “Please.” She nodded eagerly.

        “I’ll have to get a few of my books from L’Manberg, so we can do it tomorrow,” Ghostbur promised her. “We can all go visit Phil as well and you can show him how wonderful you are. Wasn’t it wonderful Friend?”

        The sheep gave another noise and (Y/N) giggled, letting go of Ghostbur and hugged Friend now.

        “Thank you, Friend. You’re a very good friend.”

        “We should get inside, it’s almost time for dinner.” Ghostbur stood now.

        “Ok, can I ride on you, Friend?” She asked the sheep and the sheep didn’t make a noise of acceptance or protest. “He said yes.”

        “Thank you, Friend,” Ghostbur told their sheep friend before putting (Y/N) on top of the sheep.

        After, he took the lead and took the pair to their home in Logstedshire. (Y/N) gently petted Friend’s wool as Ghostbur brought the pair inside, not seeing Tommy, which meant he was downstairs in his chest room.

        “What do you want to eat today little blue?” Ghostbur asked the girl as he helped her off Friend.

        “Carrots and potatoes.”

        “Ok.” Ghostbur nodded, petting Friend before going to cook.

        He made food for (Y/N) and set her up at the table before brewing a few potions he was low on. He hummed as he brewed, (Y/N) happily enjoying her meal as she talked to Friend. Ghostbur occasionally glanced over with a smile at his little blue and the last time he glanced over, he saw Tommy had come up and snuck up behind the little girl. Ghostbur was about to speak as he held a potion bottle but Tommy moved first.

        “BOO!” Tommy gave (Y/N) a scare as he took her shoulders.

        The little girl shrieked…before disappearing.

        Ghostbur and Tommy both stood there for a moment before (Y/N) spoke, gasping.

        “Daddy! I’m like you!”

        Tommy screamed at that, jumping back as Ghostbur dropped his potion bottle, shattering it on the floor. He floated as he went towards the table.

        “(Y/N)? Are you…invisible?” Ghostbur asked, unsure how to process this

        “I can’t see me.” She spoke.

        “HOW?!” Tommy flailed at the empty spot.

        It was another moment before the little girl appeared in the chair again, grinning. Tommy put his hands through his hair as Ghostbur feet touched the ground again as he stood in front of the little girl. There were a few beats of silence before he grinned.

        “You are like me!” He picked her up, hugging her. “This is a very fantastic day!”

        “You found her Ghostbur! She’s not supposed to be like you!” Tommy protested.

        Ghostbur pouted at that as he nuzzled the top of her head. “She can still be like me if I found her.”

        “I…I’m getting Phil. This is not normal and he’ll know.” Tommy pointed at the pair before leaving the house, too freaked out to stay inside.

        “He doesn’t understand yet,” Ghostbur whispered to the little girl before grinning. “Maybe I can teach you to do it on your own like me!”

        Ghostbur had cleaned up the glass quickly as he made (Y/N) stay on Friend just to be safe before he sat with her on the floor, trying to teach her to go invisible excitedly. The moon was a good bit into the sky when Tommy came back, a worried-looking Phil coming in.

        “Phil! We were going to see you tomorrow!” Ghostbur grinned. “(Y/N) wanted to show you a few things.”

        “Like…what?” Phil questioned carefully.

        “She learned a lot of songs and we were going to learn more. Then at dinner, she turned invisible like me! Isn’t that wonderful?”

        “See? I wasn’t lying!” Tommy motioned.

        “Calm down Tommy,” Phil told the younger boy before sitting on the floor with Ghostbur and (Y/N). “Is that true (Y/N)? You did that?”

        She nodded, smiling widely. “I learned a lot of songs and I disappeared like daddy.”

        “Have…you ever done that before? Disappear like that?”

        She hummed before shaking her head. “No.”

        “It’s new?”

        She and Ghostbur nodded.

        “Well…She could be magical born.” Phil threw out, looking at Ghostbur and Tommy.

        “What the hell does that mean?” Tommy asked as he stood next to Phil.

        “She’s a witch. Her parents would have probably been too. It’s extremely rare to have a magical born in a non-magical family. And as the house that Ghostbur found (Y/N) was the way…it was.” Phil avoided the details but Ghostbur floated off the ground as he remembered. “It would make sense; some people aren’t keen on witches.”

        Tommy frowned at the thought with Phil as Ghostbur tried to just ignore the bad images. As Ghostbur looked away from Phil, he looked at (Y/N) to see her sticking her tongue out slightly as she had her eyes closed as well, looking to be concentrating. What she was concentrating on doing made Ghostbur grin widely.

        “(Y/N) can float too!” Ghostbur cheered, making the little girl open her eyes and grin herself.

        “I’m like daddy!”

        Ghostbur laughed as he scooped her into his arms, cuddling with her. Tommy and Phil shared a look though. They had to make sure Ghostbur wasn’t vocal about this…They couldn’t let little blue lose another life just for being a witch after all…

        But Ghostbur didn’t think about that as he was simply ecstatic about his special little blue.

[doctorofmagic]

My thoughts on What If... Doctor Strange Lost His Heart Instead of His Hands?

The very title of the episode sends a shiver down my spine. And this is where we’re going to start.

~ long post under the cut ~

A year ago, I wrote this post as an attemp to dive into one of the most important traits in Doctor Strange’s personality: love. Stephen is a being made of love, made to love, no matter which interpretation you have when you watch Infinity War. If you don’t read comic books, you’ll understand the moment you meet Donna. You’ll begin to understand how her death reshaped his entire subjectivity out of fear of failing, being powerless and unable to control everything around him (especially death), thus the arrogant and yet a disaster of a man we all know.

Where do I even start? Stephen loved her sister deeply and felt responsible for her death. And then, slowly, he also lost his parents and his brother. He fell in love with Clea but he also pushed her away. He loved Zelma platonically and lied to her, which was enough for them to break their bond. He felt attracted to Kanna but screwed things up, even though they remain friends. He was forced to kill the Ancient One, the only father figure he had ever since his father died. And lastly, the only person who would never leave his side... also left. Yes, even Wong. Stephen has SO much love to give but he’s also afraid because he’s cursed. He truly believes his love in poison. And would you look at that? What If really delivered a story where this is actually true.

What If Doctor Strange Lost His Heart Instead of His Hands?

The level of understanding when it comes to the character is... inconceivable. What could possibly reshape Stephen into following a dark path but love? The very premise of the whole episode. This is so much more than a love letter. This is literally too much, in all senses.

Fine, let’s begin.

What if the best of intentions has very strange consequences?

No. You used the word “strange” for the pun but this is not the word. Nah-ah. I’d go with ATROCIOUS, for starters. Things are gonna escalate so quickly, my friends.

Seriously, tho? Christine is SO SO SO SO beautiful, they’re so cute together. I have this feeling that MCU!Stephen was quite toxic because of his arrogance and this is why they didn’t work out. But WhatIf!Stephen???????? He’s always praising her, teasing her in a healthy way, respecting her and listening to her. HE TRULY LOVES HER, I’M GONNA CRY ALL OVER AGAIN, PLEASE, NOT THE CRÈME BRÛLÉE, PLEASE

I’m going to leave this shot here because we need to go back to it later. Hold that thought.

And bonus points to “Yeah, well, I would call that quite remarkable.” / “Well, I would say the same about you.”

GODS. THE PAIN. STOP THE PAIN.

So in this reality, Stephen didn’t caused the car accident because he was checking his phone while driving. Also it was not the reckless attempt to pass the truck. Well, maybe it was the consequence of this act? The fact is, the car behind them loses control, which makes them crash. Does it matter? We’ll learn later that no, it doesn’t.

And yep... Christine dies. Have you noticed the shattered heart? Ah, the pain only gets better and better.

Again, Stephen blames himself. More than anything, this is so important because Stephen is all about guilt. We still need to meet Donna so we can add yet another layer of guilt. But the feeling exists. This is what corrupts Stephen’s heart and soul in all his iterations. This is what makes him the character I love so much. I love this SO. MUCH. In addition, his stubbornness to accept his condition. Man won’t take a no. This, this is Doctor Strange in character. Stop complaining about NWH Stephen, it’s pathetic.

Okay, “grief-stricken”, Stephen found the Mystic Arts and became a sorcerer. That’s when he learned about the Time Stone, the Eye of Agamotto and Dormammu. Nothing changes, he saves the universe. But time does not heal his deepest wound.

I love Wong so much. Every time Wong does something, the world is healed. Really. We’re going back to him as well but for now I’ll just leave this shot.

BUT STEPHEN, DOING SOMETHING RECKLESS? HE’D NEVAH

Aaaaaaaannnnnnd then he did.

He goes back in time. It’s been two years since he lost Christine. I think he reacted pretty nicely, despite the circumstances. Now let’s go back to that shot I said I was saving for later.

Stephen is so light-hearted here. Also, during the first time he lost Christine, he had no idea what “The Price is Right” was. He knows now, which means he probably tried to learn more about the show because of her, because of grief. HAHAHA MORE PAIN

AND THEN HE

AND THEN SHE DIES AGAIN

AND THEN HE KEEPS GOING BACK IN TIME

AND SHE KEEPS DYING

AND THE MUSIC

AND HIS VOICE

AND HE TRIES TO CHANGE FATE BUT IT CAN’T BE AVERTED

HE EVEN TRIES TO STAY AWAY FROM HER LIFE BUT SHE DIES ALL THE SAME, WHY

AND EVERY TIME THEY CRASH, HE FEELS THE PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL PAIN AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN, WHY

I’M-- *ugly sobbing noises*

Apparently, not.

And this scene when he simply... closes his eyes before she dies again...?

This is where this episode had me in endless tears. It got me the four times I watched it. I’m dead serious.

Okay, so, next the Ancient One appears to Stephen, explaining that Christine’s death is an Absolute Point in time. It cannot be changed. Stephen needs the accident to become the Sorcerer Supreme and defeat Dormammu.

And this is where Stephen starts his journey into darkness. “Nothing is impossible, you taught me that. I only require more power.” Disobeying the Ancient One, Stephen then travels in time, seeking the Library of Cagliostro. Now, if you’re not aware of that, Cagliostro was a sorcerer who studied time in comics, and later became Sise-Neg (there’s a recent post on this because of the new Defenders run). It’s funny to think that Sise-Neg also destroyed the world when he became a god, however he grew past his pettiness and remade reality. Stephen did not possess such power, as we’re about to see.

PS: “Stop torturing yourself, Stephen.” Naur but he should use this line like a mantra. Especially comics!Stephen.

Not gonna lie, tho. This place reminds me of the Temple of the Vishanti from T&T (of course I was going to insert T&T somewhere, it’s me).

And of course they’d go for a pun with his name haha. I don’t know how to feel about this, tho. I feel like the episode is too heavy and dark for comedy. But it is what it is.

Okay but why some books are in cages??????????? And wow, it seems Cagliostro also gathered knowledge about several fields of magic.

And then Stephen learns that, in order to break an Absolute Point, he needs to absorb more power. This is when I went “oh-oh, here we go”.

And for real, is this Shuma-Gorath? Why are they keeping his name a secret? Is this the same creature from the first episode with Captain Carter, right? RIGHT? It has to be Shuma-Gorath.

Of course he tries to be polite and ends up all hurt haha. O’Bengh warns him about love but he will not listen. “Love can break more than your heart. It can shatter your mind.”/ “Is she worth the pain?”. Please, this is Stephen. He eats pain for breakfast.

Also, also, let’s take a break. We’re finally going to get monsterf0cker tentacle-lover Stephen Strange. It will cost us everything but here we goooooooooooo (yes, I went frame by frame for your more obscure fanservice needs)

Gods, I love this sequence so much it hurts. Okay, here we go.

Shmebulock???????????

AND HE STOLE THE CAPE??????????? AND DREW THE LINE ON BUGS??????

The grasp this man is holding on me right now...

Some of you will understand. I’m with you.

And here are the grostesque ones. These are hard to take SS but I had to.

Animation, sound effects, OST? CHEF’S KISS TO ALL

And lastly... the tentacles. Yeah, if you’re new... this is a thing.

Fanservice. Fanservice everywhere. (low-key the reason I also waited to write this review, I wanted to enjoy this part so badly but I was too sad for that lmao)

Okay so. O’Bengh is suddenly OLD and DYING, until we realize that Stephen spent CENTURIES absorbing mystic beings. CENTURIES. WTF STEPHEN. He had nothing in mind but the goal to save Christine. And people wonder why he went insane???? I’m sorry, O’Bengh, but I can’t take you serious when you still call Stephen Sorcerer Armani. Oh, and also because you watched him absorb beings for centuries in silence lmao. But I guess I have to because you said that Stephen is split in two since the Ancient One cast a spell on him, splitting the timelines and making them exist in the same reality before he could travel back in time. I know, it’s complex. Anything for the plot.

And now good!Stephen has an evil!twin who wants to absorb him back in order to become whole and break the Absolute Point. Cool.

I said I wanted to talk more about Wong because I think people are not talking about him enough. Wong is so important in this episode. He’s the one who’s trying to heal Stephen after Christine. He’s Stephen’s anchor.

Also, THEY FINALLY USED A SPELL WITH THE NAME OF THE VISHANTI. HOORAAAAY

So, for the sake of our understanding, I’m addressing the characters as evil and good!Stephen. Let’s go. Evil!Stephen summons good!Stephen and gods, he still holds such a strong grasp on me... unbelievable. THE DEEPER VOICE BENEDICT USES???? PLEASE, DIDN’T WE HAVE ENOUGH?

Imagine his strength to hold so many beings inside him, fighting to control him. BRO, THIS IS TOO TOO MUCH

Fine, I’ll not post SS about the fight because I’d be here all night long but I WILL say this: NOT CLOAKIE!!!!! NAAAAAAAAAAUR

Also if you ask me if I recognize any of the spells? Maaaaybe the Flames of Faltine, the not-so-crimson Bands of Cyttorak and a little trick Magik does with her portals. That’s how far I go.

I’ll not comment on the “seducing yourself to stay in the trap”. I will not. I’ll just say that the first person Stephen thought of when “Christine” was talking about the crème brûlée was Wong. That’s it.

And finally evil!Stephen absorbs good!Stephen and releases... UNLIMITED POWER (I love when the stone goes red as if it was bleeding aaaaaaa)

I can fix him...

This scene here? Poetic cinema. (I love his wings so much)

And when Stephen says her name and the other monsters’ voices echo “Christine”, AAAAAACKKKK

AND OF COURSE CHRISTINE WOULD FREAK OUT, BRO. LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE BECOME BECAUSE OF YOUR TWISTED LOVE. I’M NOT DOING FINE.

Oh, but it’s too late anyways because Stephen broke reality haha. This scene is interesting because Stephen is the only one who sensed and/or talked to the Watcher until now. I read an interview that the Watcher kinda showed up but it’s also about Stephen’s keen senses. Bit of both, let’s say. Still, man, 616-Watcher is not that cold. 616-Watcher would watch this and say “how about I intervene anyway?”. WhatIf!Watcher is brutal.

The way Christine looks at Stephen one last time also KILLS ME, DESTROYS ME, BREAK ME INTO A MILLION PIECES.

And this is where my soul left my body.

This is how they end the episode. This is how you leave me speechless and with teary eyes. This is how you give me a whole existential crisis.

This... this was brutal to watch. Really.

What can I say after this? I’m used to reading painful things when it comes to Stephen. Aaron’s and Cates’ runs are heartbreaking on so many levels. Hickman’s New Avengers is not easier. Coincidentally, What If? Magik Became Sorcerer Supreme and The End. And now Death of Doctor Strange. And yet, after everything I’ve been through, I’d never expect to watch something so brilliant, so tragic, so heartbreaking and unexpected in the MCU. Never. This is top tier content and this is my favorite character with SO MANY LAYERS and SO MUCH UNDERSTANDING. I can’t put into words how meaningful this whole episode is to me, or how deep it touched my heart and soul.

I’ve been struggling to find the proper words since then, I still can’t. All I can add is, I cried for the 4th time now. This is too, too much, even for Stephen stans. Even for the ones who are used to pain, regardless of which media you’re into: comic books, live actions or animated movies. This is literally more than I can take and yet I’m so, so grateful. The voice acting, gods, how did Benedict manage to create a better Stephen than the one he’s literally playing in real life???????????? HOW

This episode really took the max potential Stephen had to offer as a character, added tons and tons of layers based on his grief, depression, arrogance and need to control everything and created a tragic masterpiece. In 7 years of being a Doctor Strange fan, I've never read or watch something that could go this deep into the character. The closest I can think of is Mr. Misery and the metaphor of Stephen's depression. This is a whole new level of respect and understanding. This is more than a love letter. This is peak maestry. It’s perfect, it’s heartbreaking, it’s... gods, I can’t.

Sorry for dragging you until this far. Before I wrap up this review, I just wanted to remind you all that Stephen will appear again, he will smile again, he will be surrounded by people again. So this is not the end. It was painful but be brave. We still have a few more steps to take.

[citrinesparkles]

cat.

jason todd, eventually x gender neutral reader. 1,388 words. notes: this is part one of i don't even know how many and i cannot believe how wildly out of hand this got. this was a 500 word idea and it's gonna be at least three parts someone help (thanks to @angelz-dust for being so patient with me and encouraging on this!!! would never have made it out of the drafts without you <3) warnings: danger to kids, mention of a couple arguing, animal illness (spoiler alert: it'll be fine i Promise), a little (lot) different than my usual edit: part two here!

"let me be perfectly clear: if you even think about showing back up here, i will know, and i will make your life a living hell until i finally put you out of your misery. understood?"

"yes! yeah man i get it. understood."

"then i'd get going, if i were you." the man scrambled to his feet and bolted off across the playground, leaving jason to shout after him. "and warn any buddies you might have, too!"

he picked up the discarded knife and pocketed it. he then turned around slowly, hands visibly empty in a careful attempt not to scare the two kids behind him- well, careful not to make it worse, anyway. they, understandably, seemed a little shaken already.

"are you both alright?" he asked softly, slouching just a little to seem as harmless as possible.

probably would have been easier if they hadn't just watched him threaten someone.

the older kid- probably fifteen, if jason had to place a bet- nodded silently before glancing back at the little girl he was still hovering in front of protectively, who was just... staring.

she couldn't have been older than six.

"jazz?" the boy asked, voice tight. "are you hurt?"

he was ignored. "are you superman?"

the question, innocent and earnest and a little timid, made jason laugh. "not quite, kiddo."

she tilted her head like a curious puppy, furrowing her brow. "why are you wearing a jacket?"

jason glanced up at the boy, who seemed comforted by her mini interrogation. good.

talking was a good sign, too, so jason crouched down to meet her at eye level.

"because it gets cold out here!" he said, raising his hands up with a small wiggle of his fingers. "gloves, too."

"well, duh," jazz said with a giggle- a win, jason thought. "no fingerprints."

he nodded. "also helpful."

"and the hat to hide your face!" she said proudly, stepping forward a little to point at his helmet.

"wow, you've got the whole thing figured out, huh?"

"mhm! my friend ricky loves batman and his friends. he talks about batman and nightwing and spoiler and robin and red robin and red hood and batgirl all the time! they hide their faces like you, ricky thinks it's because of bad guys."

"they're kinda cool, huh?"

"nightwing's my favorite," she said firmly, as though it was something she had considered at great length and was fully prepared to defend.

"not red hood?" jason smacked a hand to his chest in mock hurt, shifting back dramatically. "i'm crushed, truly."

"no, ricky says red hood used to be an alien, but then got bored and now he annoys batman for fun instead. that sounds mean."

...well, okay, maybe he did annoy the big guy for fun a little. "that's an interesting theory, all right."

"ricky's got all kinds of theories. he thinks batman's a robot-" jason snorted- "and that nightwing was like pinochle."

"you mean pinocchio," the boy corrected quietly. "pinochle's what gramma plays."

"pinocchio!" she exlaimed, with a "ch" sound in the middle that made jason smile. "a doll that got turned human. that's how he does all the flips and stuff, he's got magic."

"hm, ricky seems like an interesting guy," jason said thoughtfully, making a big show of rubbing the chin of his helmet. "what do y-"

he was cut off by a loud, insistent meow, and jazz gasping even louder before taking off to the bushes.

"w- hey, don't rush off like that!" he said, shooting up off the ground as the boy sighed.

"there's this cat that she's been taking care of," he explained quietly. "the thing's got attitude for days but i think it's sick or something. jasmine's been bringing it little bits of tuna and chicken, but it's not like we can get it to a vet."

jason hummed. "why do you think it's sick?"

"it's thin, with its eyes all watery and sunk."

"might just be malnourished," he muttered.

"she's been trying to find it a home, y'know."

there was a wink-wink-nudge-nudge quality to the kid's voice that did not go unnoticed.

on one hand, it was good to hear something other than fear from him, but on the other... "what part of the tactical armor makes you think i'm an option?"

"the part where you just stuck around to check on us instead of running after that guy."

okay. maybe the quiet thing hadn't been so bad. the cocky 'amateur psychologist' thing was a little grating.

"you the real red hood?" the kid asked suddenly, shaking jason from his internal grumbling.

"what do you think?"

"i think you just saved our lives, and i wanna know who i'm thanking."

jason turned to him with a flourish. "red hood, baby saver extraordinaire. at your service."

"baby- dude, i'm seventeen!"

okay, so he would have lost his bet. "noted. still a baby, trust me."

"what are you under there, twenty something? whatever, grandpa."

jason chuckled, turning back to watch jasmine pet a small cat under one of the yellow lights littering the park. "you did well, looking out for her with that guy. you got a name?"

he scoffed. "would've been better if i'd kicked him between the legs right when he opened his mouth, instead of letting him get started on the whole 'what're you kids doing out so late?' bit," he muttered darkly, pausing for a moment before answering. "my name's jordan."

"well, jordan, what are you guys doing out so late?"

"mom works nights, and the neighbors were fighting. it was loud enough to wake jazz up, and it wasn't the kind of thing she needed to hear. i figured a trip to see her cat would be less awful than hearing them call each other things i wouldn't even call my friends." the breeze picked up, rustling the trees and catching on jason's jacket. "and then the asshole with the knife decided to make a bad night worse."

"is jazz your sister?"

"yeah, she's a good kid," jordan said, fond and warm. "sorry about the whole ricky thing, though. he's obsessed with those vigilante conspiracy videos and tells her all about them at school."

"no, no, it's fine. i can't wait to tell wing about his new origin story, he'll love that."

jasmine suddenly came bounding back towards them, grabbing their hands and yanking them to follow her. "c'mon, you need to meet cat!"

"you call it cat?"

jordan bristled subtly. "is there a problem with that, red?"

"no, no, it's an appropriate name. just making sure." jason waved his spare hand at his head. "helmet makes me hear things sometimes."

jordan opened his mouth, but his sister plowed right over whatever he was going to say, pulling on jason's hand again. "cat, meet... what's your name?"

"red hood."

"you can't be red hood!" she whirled around, indignantly putting her hands on her hips. "there's already a red hood in gotham. besides, you're not even wearing a hood, so it doesn't fit anyway."

jason turned his head to jordan, who was smiling- a good sign, but probably a bad omen for whatever he was about to say. "she's right, man. it's not a hood."

"tough crowd," jason muttered. "uh... then you can call me, uh-"

"bucket!" jasmine suggested happily, tapping his helmet. "because this looks like a bucket."

if there was one thing vigilantism had taught him, it was that sometimes you actually do need to pick your battles. this...

this was not worth fighting.

"sure, fine, whatever. hi, cat, i'm red bucket." he turned away from the kids- both of whom looked entirely too happy about the whole 'bucket' thing, he thought- and crouched down to finally look at the cat.

it did look a little sick, actually.

it was gray, and thin, and-

and now it was headbutting his knee like it was trying to push him over.

"cat likes you!" jazz cheered.

"sure does," jordan said pointedly. "isn't that interesting?"

jason opened his mouth, but his snarky comment died in his throat when the cat settled down right in front of him and blinked slowly up at him with a sweet tilt to its head.

...shit.

just- shit.

he sighed, standing up and looking back to jordan and his stupid, entirely-too-pleased-with-himself grin. "so, jazz," jason grumbled reluctantly, "where does cat live?"

[fanfics4all]

Requests are open! Here's some Prompts!

Angst Prompts

“This will be the last time you lie to me.”

“You know it’s not like that.”

“How could you think this wouldn’t hurt me?”

“You’re never going to be the same after this.”

“I just think it’d be best if we never met.”

“I can’t believe you would even think to leave me like this.”

“You never loved me, did you?”

“It didn’t have to be like this, but now you’ve ruined everything.”

“I hope you’re happy.”

“If you had have kept your mouth shut, then he’d still- he’d still be here!”

“What did you want once this was all through? Tell me!”

“Now I have to deal with the consequences of your actions. Thanks, it means a lot.”

“You could’ve- could’ve stayed. You could’ve helped me fix things.”

“I knew she’d never change, she was too stubborn, too similar to me.”

“This isn’t going to be fixed. You’ve ruined this for good now.”

“I hope I’m not put in the same part of hell as you.”

“When did you think you could hurt me again? Today? Tomorrow?”

“You’re back in my life and I want to die again.”

“You only ever brought me pain and I’m sick of it.”

“I hope you got what you wanted.”

“You made me miserable and I still loved you.”

“When you die, I’ll be the first to dance on your grave.”

“Don’t underestimate me, I have more power than you can even comprehend.”

“If only you knew what you’d brought upon yourself.”

“We’re never going to have a happy ending, just remember that.”

“Everytime something goes well, I momentarily forget how much I despise you.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not happy to see me like this.”

“There is nothing worse than seeing you get what you want.”

“Your mind must be a horrible place.”

“You can cut me, bruise me and skin me alive, but you will not take her from me.”

“How is it that we always end up in this predicament?”

“I want to wipe that grin of your face with my sword, but my mother taught me to play nicely.”

“Did anyone ever tell you how pathetic you are? It’s incredible how low my standards are for you.”

“Ah, well if you want them back alive, I suggest you lay down your own life.”

“Don’t be ‘smart’. The battlefield is no place for Math Scholars.”

“You shouldn’t have come. You can’t be-”

“Stop talking or tomorrow won’t come.”

“Hand me the gun and I’ll kill him myself.”

“I shouldn’t care for your life, but I’m starting to and it’s becoming an inconvenience.”

“If you live to see her, please send my best regards and this box of her father’s ashes.”

“It would’ve been nice to get to know you better, but I’m afraid I don’t care.”

“I can’t help but think you’re a terrible person.”

“Seeing your face has unconventionally made me want to die. I wasn’t quite prepared for this feeling.”

“You could have loved me, I’m quite good at seducing, but you’re actually vile.”

“I hope I see you in a bodybag sometime.”

“Let’s pretend you didn’t cheat on me with my sister and be good people for a few minutes.”

“We should probably stop talking forever.”

“If I hated you anymore, I think I’d probably be crowned as satan’s right-hand man.”

“To say I ‘tolerate you’ is a vast overstatement.”

“You broke her heart and came back for more, you bastard.”

“This isn’t fifth grade, this is a courtroom, you whore.”

“I think you’d be the perfect match for my ex-husband. He loved to sleep with multiple people.”

“I’m not coming home, don’t look for me.”

“Time was always a measurement of this relationship and we finally ran out.”

“Please don’t look at me with such hatred.”

“I could’ve died and you couldn’t have cared less.”

“Just get out. I- I don’t want you here, just leave.”

“You’re not the same person I married, don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“I wish you wouldn’t beg for forgiveness, it has the opposite effect of what you want.”

“Don’t hate me for this. You would’ve done the same.”

“This could’ve been the end and you were ready to let me go.”

“You should’ve left me, you could never deserve the person I’ve become.”

“Hate me all you want. I know I’m right.”

“Today you broke my arm, I hope tomorrow it’s not my heart.”

“Nothing can justify this, you’ve ruined him.”

“You live with so much guilt, I hope it drives you mad one of these days.”

“My life was ruined because of one mistake. You were that mistake.”

“You are everything I hate, don’t ever come back.”

“Evil doesn’t come close.”

“Your wrongdoings are becoming your pastimes.”

“I wish you had of just done it for the thrill of it, but now you’re in deep shit.”

“Next time, I won’t be here to salvage your wreckage. This is the last time.”

“You should have ruined me when you had the chance.”

“No one will keep your name alive. Once you’re gone, everything you once stood for disappears too.”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about your life without me.”

“This is always how it ends.”

“Break my heart once more, I dare you.”

“Forget how you loved me once, I mean nothing now.”

“This isn’t Romeo and Juliet, this is real life and I can go on without you.”

“You don’t own me, I don’t belong to you.”

“I should’ve died. That would’ve made you happy.”

“Are we going to carry on like this or are you going to give him back to me.”

“She drowned and he lost his mind.”

“We shouldn’t. You’re married and I’m pregnant.”

“You’ve never been loved, I can tell.”

“Who told you I needed fixing and what made you believe them?”

“You’re almost as far-gone as I am.”

“Maybe it’s best that we don’t go home.”

“Roaming the streets was never safe for her. What makes you think it’s different for you?”

“I think you’re going to ruin me. Am I right?”

“Do you remember our last feud? I wouldn’t want someone to lose their life again, would you?”

“Kiss me quick and leave them be.”

“I hate seeing you so sad. It’s just so dramatic how humans show emotions and being sad is such a boring one.”

“Will you ever forget my number? No? Ah, because you still love me.”

“After the funeral, let’s surrender.”

“What made you think I cared for you?”

“It’ll be fun explaining this to your sister. I hope she likes horror stories.”

“Don’t act as if we’re friends. I know how much you want to slit my throat.”

“Let’s not get angry. Let’s calmly and sensibly take this outside so I can ruin your face.”

“Please ruin yourself for me and I’ll watch in adoration as I fall apart as well.”

Fluff Prompts

“I missed being with you like this,”

“I’ve been excited to see you all day.”

“You’re my perfect match,”

“No one else can compare to your loveliness,”

“The way you smile like that always turns me on,”

“Can I at least shut the door before you decide to pounce on me the moment I come home,”

“I know you said you didn’t want to be late, but you look amazing, and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now,”

“I’ll keep you warm. Hold me closer.”

“Kiss me again, like you mean it.”

“Can I have a message?”

“Truth or Dare?” “Dare”

“Move away if you don’t want this kiss.”

“If you keep kissing my face like that I’ll have to retaliate.”

“Are you my secret admirer, the one that’s been sending me all the flowers and notes?”

“Does this kiss tickle~? Haha. Why are you laughing so much?”

“You’re supposed to be washing my hair, but this feels more like a massage.”

“Hold my hand tight. I’ll protect you.”

“When do you think help will come?” “Not for a while, I guess we’re stranded here alone for the time being.”

“Can you pretend to be my partner for my friend’s wedding? I told them I’d have a plus one.”

“I’m in love with you.” “Are you finally confessing to me? Because I feel the same way.”

“Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”

"I want you back."

"You need to stop calling me that."

"You did not just boop me."

"You lost me in a crowd once!" "It's not my fault you're so short!"

"We should get a puppy."

“Hurry up! It has eight legs and therefore will crawl faster than normal!"

"Kiss me." "Not with that morning breath."

"So, will you marry me?"

"How'd you do that?" "Magic."

"It's my happy juice."

"You did not just mimic me."

"I'm on my period and I want chocolate. Now go."

"I left you for five minutes."

"Tell me why I deal with you again?"

"Kiss it better. Please.”

Smut Prompts

“Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”

“Spread your legs. I want to feel how turned on I made you.”

“You can add another finger. I’m ready,”

“I want to watch you take off your clothes.”

“You’re so turned on already? That was fast,”

“Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”

“You want to do this right now? Even though we could get caught?”

“You’re nipples are so sensitive today,”

“Do you want to continue this in the shower?”

“You look so beautiful tied up to my bed,”

“I want you to be rough with me, please leave marks on my skin,”

“Say my name,” “Louder,”

“You say you want me, but your body seems to like it when I tease you,”

“Call me ‘Sir’ when we’re alone like this,”

“No, I’m the one that’s supposed to be making you feel good,”

“Don’t stop, whatever you do. I like that, a lot.”

“I love hearing you moan,”

“Blindfolds heighten your senses, maybe that’s why you’re whimpering louder than usual.”

“I was wondering how long you two were going to make out like that before you realize you weren’t alone.”

“Sorry, did that hurt?” “No, I’m just a little sore from last night.”

“I want to hear you beg for it.”

“I’m not wearing any panties,”

“I want to kiss every inch of your body before I fuck you,”

“I don’t have the patience to remove your clothes right now,”

“Your pussy tastes so sweet,”

“I can’t wait until we’re alone. There are so many things I want to do to you right now.”

“Bite me,” “Where?”

“Were you just touching yourself?”

“What do you want for breakfast?” “Why are you asking me that at 10 o’clock at night-OH.”

“The game is, either of us is only allowed to touch the other with their mouth.”

“I love how your body loses control when you cum.”

“Fuck me like a starved animal or leave.”

“Spank me,”

“Show me how you like to be touched.”

“Harder, Deeper…”

“I want to fulfill that fantasy you’ve always wanted.”

[kylosgenesis]

Teardrops on Fire

Synopsis:

Steve Rogers is the last Alpha of the an almost extinct Lycan pack. With only less than 100 members left. Steve must produce an heir to ensure the species survival and reduce the chance of attacks from others. Omegas are rare, and betas have a hard time producing children. Steves reality is finally setting in as his obligation of producing an heir faces a major set back.

Reader is the last suitable omega to mate with Steve, due to the fear of her daughters fate in the pack, her mother kept her hidden from the pack after her own exile. Only her mother, and Bucky's family know of her existence. Bucky is Steve's right hand man, and the packs best warrior! He and the reader developed a friendship and bond over the years, but age forced them to become distant.

What happens when she presents and her first heat cycle comes? Her body is in excruciating pain and a strong fever quickly overcomes her body. Facing the fear of her daughters possible death, her mom calls on the only person who can save her at this point, Alpha Steve! Bucky and the alphas friendship will be tested. The reader will be faced with her love for Bucky or her duty to the pack.

warnings: quick mentions of minor character deaths, A/B/O dynamics

Chapter 1: No longer children

The nights in the outskirts were loud, filled with crickets, and nature! The smell of the woods is all she'd ever known, her mom was exiled from the pack when she was pregnant with her, but only a select few knew of her existence. Those who did, protected her mom out of respect. She was kind and strong, she brought her daughter up on her own in a harsh, and desolate part of the woods. Still within pack territory, but at least an hour journey on car. Following the waterfall all the way to the bottom creek where the water came to a halt, and the cascade fell into a peaceful flow, That’s where she called home. There was only just an abandoned hunting cabin back then, but her mom rebuilt it with bloodshed, and tears. For a long time she managed on her own!

Winnifred Barnes was a kind woman, the only other person she'd ever known, Winnifred was a beta from the same village her mother came from. Every so often she would sneak out of the village, and travel down unto the creek with supplies, and fresh bread to deliver to them. She barely saw her, but her favorite memories involved her. She had a son, his name Was James, but he hated being called James. He went by Bucky.

~15 years ago~

“Here fishy fishy, I’m a friend” she'd had taken out a fish trap to the creek and spent the entirety of the morning watching fish just swim by her feet as they neatly avoided the trap she'd set up “ fishy, fishy please come “ she'd sighed in frustration! Whenever her mom came to the river, she made it look so effortless. She would just sing, and it was like animals wanted to be surrounded by her presence! It never took long for them to catch dinner and return home. “ Maybe it's because you're scaring the fish away with all the talking and paddling your making!” Bucky said with a smirk!

~flashback end~

Looking back, that was her first memory of Bucky. He was older than her. Maybe 12 at the time. He didn't let that stop him from being her friend. He taught her to fish that day! She went home with three small trouts and some catfish. she was stoked to show her mom the progress she'd made! She knew her mother often worried about her. She was alone, but Bucky brought a spark of life and joy into her life, she couldn't quite comprehend.

Years went by like that! She saw Bucky almost every week! He taught her everything she knew now!

They hunted together! Fished! Started fires!

They could spend hours around the woods within their own imaginations. She'd pretend that the king of the forest had kidnapped her, and hide! Bucky would use his tracking skills to find her! He was always the knight in shining armor, and they'd be gone for hours within our own world. As she grew older, she knew his interests would one day shift!

They stopped playing like kids, his body began to change, and her body did too. She no longer imagined the trees were magical , and she was a princess! Bucky no longer was the knight to the rescue! The world started to become more real, and her childlike imagination faded! Along with her favorite memories of Bucky.

It was the day of her tenth birthday! Winnifred showed up with a delicious tart, she was so exited when she heard her voice from across the cabin, her little heart nearly burst with excitement as she raced to meet her. Her happiness faced as she noticed Bucky was not with her! He hadn't come!

He had presented an alpha! He had officially grown up and had a different mindset now, he'd have duties and would soon start his own life. His days without responsibilities were over, He had a new life and had to to help take care of a pack now!

She had cried all day that day, her mom could tell she was inconsolable! Once again she was alone! Her only friend was gone, and it was just the two of them once again! She knew Bucky wasn't dead, but as the years went on without him it was like she was dead to him!

They saw Winnifred one a month at least, sometimes Rebecca, Bucky’s younger sister was with her. As Rebecca grew she too presented! She was a beautiful beta, it didn't take long for her to find a role and love within the pack.

Two years after Bucky stopped visiting had passed, and she was once again alone! She didn't know much about the people from the village, but Rebecca painted beautiful stories with her words about her friends and the guy she wanted to be mated to.

She used to fall asleep to her stories, and would imagine what they were all like! How Bucky was doing? what if she was there? What did being in love feel like?

Secluded from the world she loved books! They were her escape into any world she could wanna be in. As she grew older hunting became less fun, and more of a necessity! Her mother was growing older and weaker, she could see the strain that household tasks did to her body. She no longer sang when she cooked, the piano she used to play sat in the corner untouched, only collecting small specks of dust. Her life, just seemed monotone to her. Wake up, live, repeat! it was like she gave up living, while still being very alive! Losing a mate would often take a physical toll on the body, as well as an emotional one. She had noticed that when her mom lost her Pa, she lost half of herself along with him! She tried to be strong, but without a bond your body starts to become frail! Winnifred said her mother used to light the whole pack with her smile and kindness! She was so beautiful there wasn't a day she didn't have fresh flowers from prospects at her door, and that was long before she presented a as a beta.

She began to take responsibility for housework, gardening, and making sure there was protein on the table. In our household nothing went to waste! We used furs for shoes and clothing, Winnifred had been kind enough to donate us her old sewing machine once she was able to afford a new one.

Coming home from the lake after a long day of fishing, she tucked her old leather boots near the door. They were a couple of seasons old and needed to be reinforced with a new leather, but they were the best she could do with the nearly approaching winter season. Tossing the bucket full of freshly caught trout on the kitchen sink. She took the scales and bones out before neatly placing the fish on the freezer. It wasn't much, but it was enough to last through the harshest part of winter season. They still had a few months to prepare, but she didn't want to be caught off guard. Hunting big game was next on the list, they'd have enough to get them safely though.

After dinner they sat down near the fire! Her mom reminisced about her friends when she was young, and her father. Specially how much she loved him! You knew he was a good man, but it was no secret he had a temper, and a hard time taking orders. It was because of him you guys were banished! Her mom never wanted to talk about what happened, or how he died! She knew it must've been something bad. Despite everything they were lucky to be allowed within pack territory. Being outside a marked territory was very dangerous, and not many could survive the cruel nomad packs that would kill, steal, and rape any wondering females outside of a protected territory.

That night as she laid in her small bed. She looked to my side to see a hoodie. It was so small now! It used to belong to Bucky. She vividly remembered him giving it to her! One day, it got too dark, too soon! The walk back to the small cabin became straining to her small body. Bucky offered his hoodie to provide an extra layer of warmth. It still smelled like him! He smelled of pine and firewood with hints of fresh morning rain, his scent was comforting! Still to this day she couldn't let go of the thought of him.

Little did she know that would be the last time she saw Bucky!

That flashback brought her comfort, and soon sleep overcame her. Waking up the next morning felt as if she'd hunted an entire season, and hadn’t rested a second. Her hips were screamed for her to stay in bed longer, head spinning, and fluttering stomach, she pushed it all aside! She rose up to get herself some water, the thought of a nice warm tea with some fruits and maybe some nuts already alleviated her body, and caused her to salivate at the thought of relief.

As she walked into the kitchen to see her mothers usually tender eyes, She saw the opposite! Her mothers tender smile and eyes had fallen! Her eyes became filled with tears as she dropped her mug. Ignoring her aching body, she ran to comfort her in a hug! She hadn't seen her mother cry often, but at this very moment she sobbed, and looked at her in disbelief! It wasn’t tears of pride, it was pain that filled her words. She knew it was coming! They had hoped when the day came, she'd present as a beta, just like her mother! Her mother was apologizing with her soft sobs and tears. She had brought an omega into the world, the implications of being an omega without status or protection meant that a bad heat could kill her! Or a wandering cruel alpha could hurt her and claim her if I wasn’t careful.

This changed everything! She was an omega!

Bucky Barnes POV:

Bucky stepped out of his pickup truck. His hair was getting too long to handle, but he hadn’t had the time to get it cut. He had been away from the pack for what felt too long. He missed his mother’s cooking and the mead that Natasha's pub brewed fresh every morning. He couldn’t wait to shower, and become one with his bed.

Steve had entrusted him with a supply run for winter. Blankets, medicine, extra food and anything that could be used to fix an electric grid in case the power went out like the last few times. The village was nowhere near desolate or old, but the decline in births and the battles against other packs had left their village vulnerable.

Steve was his best friend! he had inherited the title of the pack leader from his father. He was caring, and would do anything in his power to keep his pack safe and prevailing! Bucky was only a year older than Steve! Growing up with him was the best childhood he could ever imagine. Steve’s father wasn’t as kind as forgiving as Steve was! Steve would often fall victim to his fathers outburst. His father needed a strong healthy Alpha heir, and Steve was small and often sickly.

His dad often reminded him he would never be a leader, and he probably wouldn’t make it past his fist designation season. When his father died ten years ago, little did he know that in only one summer that boy would tower over the pack at 6’5 and had the strongest and most intimidating glare a leader could have! What made him a leader was he had the heart, he was still that scrawny little kid on the inside, but with a giant heart.

Steve had fallen into his role as an alpha so naturally. He made sure everyone was taken care of! He took care of the widows! He made sure that the sacrifices their husbands made to protect the pack wouldn’t be in vain! He’d deliver wood and food from those supply runs Bucky would often make before every winter season. Steve and him were also 2 of the 4 teachers in the village. Wanda and Sam would take turns with the students as they tended to their own families as well. But Bucky knew that Steve was in a hard position, omegas were becoming rarer and rarer. The few omegas in the pack were already mated long before Steve presented. And the few unmated betas had difficulty getting pregnant. Less than 20 kids had been worn in the last 15 years, and that worried Steve! Their pack was declining in numbers and was soon gonna become vulnerable to invasion.

Bucky was grateful that his role as Steve’s right hand man was less straining than Steve’s. He was more of a warrior than a leader. He patrolled, and defended the pack from intrusions. He was the best hunter the pack had. Steve teased him about never crossing his way when he was on a mood, but he just loved the woods. He liked the calm! It reminded him of a simpler time, a time with her! He often wondered, how she was doing?

After he presented he had to leave behind all those childhood memories, it often hurt him to think of her. She was special, and kind. She must’ve been so hurt when he stopped coming over. When his mom first made him come with her to the outskirts to visit a friend, he had been so angry at his mom for not letting him stay over at Steve’s.

Seeing her near that creek trying to lure fish in by talking to them, he knew he’d never be the same! He assumed the role of a mentor in her life. He's spent years teaching her how to hunt and fish, and the best ways to start a fire, they even competed on who could hunt the biggest game. She was a little less than half his age, but she had a fire to her. They were equal in the woods and you couldn’t tell her otherwise.

Then one night they hunted for too long! Night came, the sky opened up to rain, the temperatures dropped; he could tell she was starting to grow tired. The hair around her face became wet, and her lips were quivering. She smelled different than she usually did, It was delicious and intriguing to him! She smelled of coconut and honey, but with small delicious hints of lavender.

He couldn’t pinpoint why he was able to smell her that night, but after driving home he was met with waves of pain and rage. Like he needed to run away, and stay locked in at the same time! That night he presented as an alpha! He realized the world smelled different now and everyone had a distinct smell. But nothing or no one has yet to ever smell as good as she did that night. He was scared of himself; he was an adult alpha now.

Looking back on the memories of her, he thought she’d probably be a lot older now. She probably wouldn’t even remember him. He was not a 16 year old boy anymore he had the battle scars and beard to prove it.

After delivering the supplies around the village and finishing his patrol, he drove home! His house wasn’t fancy or big, it was enough for him to just lay down, and occasionally read or watch some tv.As he pulled up into his muddy driveway, he saw his mom's car, it wasn’t weird for him that his mom was in his house. She often came around to do some cleaning, and drop off some warm food for him when she knew he’d be back from a long day.

When he entered his home there were two scents, his moms, and a scent he hadn’t smelled in ten years. It was her mom, but what was she doing here in his house with a look of pain on her face? Winnifred motioned him to sit down! Her mother looked older, she’d grown weaker since he last saw her. She also smelled different, but it wasn’t her smell! He could scent her, her smell was mixed with her mother’s, but still ever so lovely and potent. There was something scaring him about your smell though.

As to confirm his suspicions his mom met his confused gaze, and confirmed what he already suspected from that hint of her lingering smell. Bucky could barely breath, he felt like he'd received a punch to his gut.

She’d presented!

She was an omega!

He had to let Steve know! It was his duty to let Steve know of this omega, she could save the pack. She was the first unmated and fertile omega in the pack in the last 25 years. To keep her hidden would be a crime against the pack. Steve needed her, he deserved to have this happiness.

Then why did it hurt Bucky so much to give up this Omega?

Taglist: @austynparksandpizza

[baka-monarch]

@pleasentcalli-gt I shall infodump!!!!!

Techno is a half orc barbarian, who goes on several assigned adventures- several being with a mysterious ranger named Dream, but nobody knows they're race since Dream is constantly wearing a mask and clothes to hide himself (but since Techno has fought by their side so often he's caught glimpses of the coal black skin he keeps hidden, and suspects what they are- but isn't too bothered by it, he's not gonna tell anyone or mention to Dream that he suspects because of how most people see and treat Dream's race)

Dream is a ranger that goes on several adventures, usually with Techno, but he doesn't mind going with others.... But on the most recent adventure his mask breaks revealing that he's a dark elf to everyone, the rest of the party leaves, not trusting a dark elf even if they've seen how good of a person he is- but Techno stays to make sure Dream is alright, and even offers him his home to stay at until he can get another mask

In Techno's home he lives with:

Philza, an aarakocra (or bird person-) sword singer (which is a type of magic user/wizard that has the wand enchantments on swords to do spells while fighting physically), who owns a large cabin in the woods

Wilbur, a half elf bard who's better at playing music then casting musical spells- it's no matter as with his higher charisma, he's amazing at distracting people in squares so his associate can pick pockets easier-

Tommy, a halfling rogue (and the one who helps Wilbur steal from people), who lost his family at a young age before being found by Wilbur and brought to Phil's cabin to be raised.... His family were killed by a party of dark elves, and everyone assumes this is why he's a bit more cold and rude to Dream then he would be to anyone else- but there's more to it then just that (imma write a little thing about this under the cut because I can't get a specific line out of my head-)

"I don't hate you because of what you are, I hate you because of what you did."

Dream took a deep breath as he sat next to the small halfling- well Tommy was tall for his race, but he still only came up to Dream's waist when standing at his full height. The drow had been wanting to ask about this for so long, but he was never alone with Tommy, and anytime he asked with the others around the halfling would always run off and someone would answer for him. So now here Dream was, sitting next to Tommy at the table, both going to have lunch while everyone else was in town. He could do this it was just an easy question right? 'Why do you hate me?' something he'd asked several people before, when he left the Underdark, and there were two answers he knew Tommy could give- one of which was because Dream is a dark elf... But he'd become accustomed to people hating him for his coal black skin, red eyes, and white mane of hair, most surface dwellers hated drow because of the connotations that came with them.

Dream shook those thoughts from his mind as he took another deep breath, watching as Tommy stared down into his bowl of soup, vigorously eating so he wouldn't have to be here with Dream for long. He knew this was why they weren't looking up, and why they were rushing, because Tommy had done it several times before.

"Tommy." The halfling snapped their head up to look at him as he spoke. It startled Dream a bit, the silence that had just been broken, and the small glare the smaller held in their eyes in this empty and still house. Unsettling because they were usually smiling, usually laughing, usually full of life. "Why..." He started to say but hesitated. Why was he scared of the answer? It's nothing new to be hated, so why does it matter? He licked his dark lips before continuing. "Why do you ha- dislike me?" He cringed at his own words, sounding so awkward in his mouth, and all he could do was wait for an answer- an answer he feared, but shouldn't.

"I don't dislike you- I despise you." Tommy answered coldly, and the seriousness of their tone sent a shiver down Dream's spine. What happened to the annoying prankster from an hour ago? "And it's not because of that fucking racist shit if that's what you're worried about." The smaller shrugged, and Dream felt his eyes widen in surprise, a little confused as to what else is could be.

".... What do you mean?" The drow couldn't stop himself from hesitantly asking, but regretted it when Tommy dropped his spoon and looked up with an even more defined glare- but they weren't mad, they were hiding another emotion, Dream could tell by the way their entire body trembled, but he couldn't understand why.

"Do you really want to know?" Dream nodded to their question. He wanted to fix this, he didn't want Tommy to be upset with him if they were his friend's brother.... And he hoped maybe they could be friends too.

"You killed my family." Tommy's words stabbed Dream like a knife, but before he could ask, Tommy continued. "The night they died, we were staying with some elves, mainly for protection since they offered us shelter in their camp. That night however.... Tha- that night... A party of dark elves came... Although I was a fucking kid, I still knee Underdark common at the time, from when mom and dad would do trading with peches"-Dream was familiar with the race of Underdark halflings, but didn't know much of their culture- so he was a bit surprised to know that they had connections with their surface dwelling counterparts-"so when I saw you- you leading this fucking party, I listened from the place mum had hidden me and I heard you give the command- the command to slaughter everyone. To kill even the elven children, and when the adult halflings tried to help you told your men to kill them as well..."

Dream took a moment to process the information... And was sad to realize it was true. He remembered that day. The first day he was put in charge of a surface raid. Back then Dream still only had knowledge from the Underdark, he had been raised and taught that the surface was full of nothing more then people who were evil and mindless creatures... It was back when he worshipped Lolth, a deity that took pride in how she manipulated Drow to believe that she was the only divinity, but her ways were dark and twisted- after living on the surface for so long, Dream knew that now... But back during the raid he hadn't. He knew he gave the commands, the command to have no mercy (as if Drow ever did have mercy when from the Underdark- another reason why he left the reched place) when killing the surface elves... But he couldn't help but to question if it was really his fault. All his life up until then he'd been manipulated, lied to, and taught a specific way of life- he hadn't known any better, and was just trying to please his fellow Drow by acting like the rest of them. He did not take satisfaction in death, he hated watching as children were stabbed... And for what? Because he was too afraid to question his own beliefs at the time? Because he had been doing the same as every Drow before him had done? Yes he gave the command, but was it really his fault if that is what he had been taught to do?

"I remember you smiling at me." Tommy scoffed, pulling him from his thoughts. Dream remembered too- and if he looked at Tommy long enough he could reconize exactly who they were from back then... A small sobbing child, trembling in fear. "You smiled after killing everyone I loved..." Tommy was crying now too, and Dream wanted to comfort them, but knew there was nothing he could do... Back then that smile was meant to be comforting as well- in the Underdark peches (halflings from the Underdark), were seen as nothing more then pets, slaves to Duergar and Drow. He'd assumed it had been the same on the surface, that those halflings were slaves to the surface elves and that he'd done something good in freeing them- which is why he hadn't pointed out to the other Drow where the halfling children were hiding... But now he knew, he understood, and he was sickened with himself for ever thinking that.

"I'm sorry...." Was all Dream could mutter. There wasn't much else he could say. He didn't expect forgiveness, even if he was changed now, even if he'd kill one of his own kin to keep Tommy, and everyone else living in this cabin safe.

"It's too late now." The halfling said coldly while whiping the tears from his face. "So now you know.... I don't hate you because of what you are, I hate you because of what you did."

(the only reason I wrote this is that last line aidhebksishs I just really really really wanted to fucking use it-)

[skullsandwineglasses]

Love and Redemption Review

Overall, I have to say that the story was really good, maybe even better than the popular xianxia romances that came before it like Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms, Love and Destiny, and Ashes of Love. The romance may be comparable to AOL, but as a whole, the plot in L&R was more interesting and cohesive.

****SPOILERS AHEAD FOR LOVE AND REDEMPTION AND OTHER XIANXIA DRAMAS****

Plot

What sets Love and Redemption apart from the other 3 xianxia romances is that Love and Redemption also feels like a quest/adventure story, while also delivering a gut-wrenching, star-crossed romance plot. What’s interesting about L&R is that the main focus is on the mortal realm and the FL and ML’s current mortal incarnation, as opposed to the heavenly realm and their immortal identities.

The actions of the mortals have consequences across the 3 realms, as opposed to other xianxia romances that only use the mortal realm as a temporary stage for the leads to fall in love. The other 3 xianxias that I mentioned all opened up in the heavenly/celestial realm first, while the mortal realm was just a brief trial that the leads have to endure before returning to the immortal realm. The moral realm in L&R therefore feels livelier and more eventful, and the mortals have more agency and are not easily influenced by celestial beings. Whenever a celestial being does come down to the mortal realm, their powers are limited and are they are bound by the rules and restrictions of the mortal realm (which means that celestial beings can’t use their powers to mess with the emotions and decisions of mortals). 

The drama opens up with a tournament being held at the FL’s sect and members from all the other sects are arriving for the tournament. When the FL and ML meet, they are on equal footing (well, equal in terms of status as disciples, but not so much in terms of magical prowess). It’s like when you were in high school and you meet the visiting basketball team from a rival school, and then end up becoming friends with them.

Love and Redemption also takes the audience through a mystery. What is the true immortal identity of the FL? What’s her relationship to the Star of Mosha? Is she the saviour or the doomsday harbinger? Does the ML have an immortal identity too? Why do they have the same birthday? The drama keeps us on our toes because we learn about the truth and the history of the characters as they’re discovering it, as opposed to the other xianxia dramas where there is very little mystery and few plot twists.

Because of this mystery, the drama is tight and well-paced, since a new piece of the puzzle is always being revealed. Just when you thought that the mystery is solved, there’s a twist, and you realized that the twist was set up from the very beginning of the story, but you just missed it. 

The story also doesn’t stray from the main leads. Yes, there are subplots (as all dramas do), but the subplots here are brief, and they usually relate back to the main leads. Unlike in AOL where the later half of the drama derails and focuses on the two other supporting couples, while the main leads only get about 10 minutes of screen time. 

The Male Lead - Yu Si Feng

Before starting the drama, I read a lot of comments about how much whump and emotional torture the ML goes through and how much he sacrifices for the FL. I thought this was an exaggeration. I mean, Xufeng in AOL went through a lot of Jin Mi too, (and you could make the same argument for Ye Hua in TMOPB, or Bai Zi Hua in Journey of Flower), so I was a little hesitant about the premise since it’s such an old trope, and I was doubtful that it could top the sacrifice that other MLs have done in other dramas. 

But reader, boy was I wrong. Yu Si feng is the definition of limitless, unconditional love. I lost count of how many times he almost died for the FL (not including the 9 times she killed him in their previous 9 lives). He’s spitting up blood and stabbed in nearly every episode. Episodes 37-47 were the hardest to watch because of the escalating chronic angst and misunderstandings between him and Xuan ji that caused irreversible damage to their relationship. Even when she tries to kill him and tells him she regrets having ever known him, he still drags himself back to rescue her. To quote Si feng himself, it’s not a question of whether or not it’s worth it, but it’s a question of whether you are willing to do it. And Si feng is as eager and willing as ever to sacrifice everything for Xuan ji. 

I mean, even Xufeng in AOL and Ye Hua in TMOPB snapped at the FL’s cruelty and aloofness at one point, but Si feng seems incapable of ever being angry with Xuan ji. Even when Si feng purposely tries to avoid her, it’s out of protection for her, not out of anger for everything she’s done. Like??? Si feng is impossibly perfect, even by the impossible standards of xianxia. 

Cheng Yi plays Si feng to a T. He conveys a different type of pain in every crying scene, and so Si feng basically experiences like 59 different types of crushing pain, and you feel it in your bones every time you watch it. The man’s eyes speak volumes.

While it would be easy to say that Cheng Yi carries the drama with his portrayal of Si Feng, the actions of the ML would be meaningless if there were no romantic interest that he was doing this all for.  

The Female Lead - Chu Xuan Ji

Some people may feel that Xuan ji isn’t worth Si feng’s devotion. But, I would argue that the first 37 episodes shows us that she is definitely worth it. 

Xuan Ji is similar to Jin Mi from AOL in that she is incapable of feeling or understanding love. Because Xuan Ji was born without her 6 senses (and also without a real heart, unbeknownst to the other characters), she’s naive and juvenile. But despite not having feelings, she’s still able to care completely about others. She cares about her sister, her father, her sect brothers, and Si Feng. She’s fiercely protective of them as they are of her. To the best of her limited abilities, she is devoted to people as much as she can be. 

Because of her sensory deprivation, Xuan Ji is really curious about the world. She wants to be like everyone else, to feel like everyone else, in hopes of being able to properly reciprocate people’s love for her. She envies people who are able to cry because she thinks that’s an unhindered way of showing love. She regrets not being able to cry when her mother died. Xuan Ji is therefore a self-aware character, unlike Jin Mi, because she knows her shortcomings. She wants to be able to feel, understand, and share pain. 

As such, she’s quite an active character because she has this goal of reviving her senses, which has ripple effects for the other characters in the story since they become a part of her journey, whether by choice or by force. 

Why Si Feng fell for Xuan Ji

Xuan Ji and Si Feng are very opposite characters, and not just because of the obvious difference in their personalities. Si Feng is a boy who feels too much (we later see that he gets his persistent sentimentality from his father), but was taught his whole life to suppress his emotions (I mean, the mask both literally and figuratively prevents him from emoting). Si Feng wants to express his feelings, but cannot. 

On the other hand, Xuan Ji is allowed to be as expressive as she wants, but she is empty on the inside. Xuan Ji represents everything Si Feng wants to be and is expected to be: free and emotionless. 

In this mortal incarnation, SF has responsibilities to everyone, from his spirit beast to his sect. Xuan Ji is the only one who doesn't ask or expect anything of him and yet, for someone who can't feel, she's always thinking of him. she stands up for him, she brings him snacks to comfort him when he’s being punished, she helps steal back his mother's hairpin. These are very simple gestures, but they mean the world to him (no one else has done these things for him before, and he doesn’t understand why she would unconditionally do these things for him), and that's why he's so quick to risk everything for her. Thus ironically, Si Feng actually learned about unconditional love from Xuan Ji. 

He’s never known love, warmth, or friendship in his lonely years growing up in the Lize Palace. And so, when you’re just a 16 year old awkward, hormonal, and introverted teenage boy, it’s easy to fall for a selfless girl who invades your personal space and has no sense of propriety. 

Why Xuan Ji fell for Si Feng

We see that her love is gradual. She falls in love with him without even realizing she’s fallen in love. She cares for him as a friend at first. After all, like she said, Si Feng is the first friend she’s made from outside her sect. But soon, her caring for him surpasses that of what she feels for her sect brothers. Si Feng teaches her about the world, from what different food tastes like, to naming colours. Si Feng doesn’t infantilize her like her sect brothers do. Her sect brothers are either dismissive or protective, like Ming yan, but she is able to find a proper confidant in Si Feng who is willing to be patient with her and listen to her. 

Their 4-year separation when they each undergo training and achieve a boost in their abilities, only made Xuan Ji’s heart grow fonder. She misses Si Feng, and is frustrated to see that things are different between them when they meet again. She doesn’t understand why he’s so cold and distant, and all she wants to do is close the distance between them. 

It’s a meme that Xuan Ji is the one who wears the pants in the relationship. She’s assertive and bold, and I think part of the reason why she fell for Si Feng is because he gives her that space to be best and biggest version of herself, whether in the heavenly realm or in the mortal realm. She’s also fascinated by him. A person outside of her sect who has an endearing personality unlike anyone else she’s seen. He piques her curiosity, and so she’s drawn to him. He’s as much as her romantic and sexual awakening as she is his. 

It’s apt that their ship name is the combination of their last names “Chu Yu”, which sounds similar to the words 初遇, which means “first encounter”. Not only is this drama about capturing the feelings of first love, but Si Feng and Xuan Ji have also had 10 different first encounters because of their 10 reincarnation tribulations. 

The Romance

It’s actually quite fun and endearing to watch because both Xuan Ji and Si Feng are playing hard to get, which frustrates the hell out of both of them. Xuan Ji is trying to win back Si Feng and convince him to stay, while Si Feng himself is trying to win Xuan Ji’s heart, and she doesn’t even realize it. They’re both trying to woo each other, but they’re both being resistant, intentionally and unintentionally. 

I have to admit, though, that the first few episodes were slow. 

There aren’t major sparks during the first meeting between the leads. She just falls out of the sky into his arms, and he’s flustered by her sudden appearance and clinginess. The love story didn’t feel “epic” during the the first 4 episodes because it didn’t feel like there were any stakes. These were just 2 young disciples from different sects who had a stereotypical meet-cute. It was like watching a high school coming-of-age romcom. 

Things start to get serious when Si feng is forced to wear the lover’s curse mask, meaning that he cannot love, or else every time he’s hurt by the one he loves, that mask will release a feather to his heart and he’ll feel unbearable pain. When all the feathers are released, he’ll die. This means that he has to stay away from Xuan Ji, but obviously, the drama can’t let that happen, so he’s constantly thrown into situations with her, he can’t stay away from her, and he ends up falling for her harder and harder against his will. 

Xuan Ji trusts Si Feng completely and unconditionally (until episodes 37-47 that is). She is willing to go against her father and sect in order to protect him. She’s willing to sacrifice herself to save him. She’s willing to go rogue with her powers for him. When no one else trusts him, she does. 

This makes Xuan Ji a very cathartic character to watch because she isn’t frustrating at all. She isn’t easily influenced and has her own views. She doesn’t share the same prejudiced views as the elder sect leaders. She is willing to disobey if it’s the right thing to do. She immediately clears up misunderstandings, like the one between her and Ming yan. We see her gradually become more mature through her increasing protectiveness over Si Feng. 

I think because we see this rational and loyal side of Xuan Ji, we’re able to have a higher tolerance for her ignorance and mistakes later in the drama (but only barely). 

The Reincarnations - What Does it Mean to Love a Soul?

Si Feng fell for Xuan Ji 10 times in the mortal world, not including the very first time he falls for her when they were immortals in the heavenly realm. 

I explained why I think Si Feng fell for Xuan Ji is this 10th reincarnation, but why did he fall for her in the past 9 lives? In the flashbacks, we see that in each life, Xuan Ji is cruel and heartless, and she still had the same unforgiving and ruthless demeanor as when she was the god of war. Is it because Si Feng’s soul is always going to be automatically attracted to Xuan Ji’s soul?

Because we only see brief glimpses of the past 9 lives (more specifically, we only see the ending of these lives), we don’t really know how they met or how Si Feng came to love her in each life. But, I would assume that there was something about Xuan Ji in each of her reincarnations that attracted her to Si Feng and completed him. Also, we know that Xuan Ji is capable of tenderness. As the god of war, she disliked fighting. As Mosha, she cared about Bailing. So, while Xuan Ji’s nature might be violent and cruel, I think that with each life, she learns about love and sincerity. If we assume that the flashbacks of the 9 lives are in order, then it would seem like Xuan Ji becomes more and more affected by Si Feng’s death with each successive lifetime. In the first life, she is completely indifferent to his beheading. but we see that she begins to become affected in the later lives, but tries to shove those emotions aside because they’re foreign and unfamiliar to her. 

We get even less context for how Si Feng might have fallen for the god of war in the heavenly realm. We only know that Si Feng was the Jade Emperor’s son, and only gained a celestial anamorphic form after 10, 000 years. His true form is the Golden-feathered bird. He’s always appearing by the god of war’s side to listen to her vent, but the god of war only sees him as a stray bird who comes by to visit occasionally. Why did he fall for her? Did he empathize with her loneliness? Maybe she was his only friend, like he was her only friend, but she didn’t even realize it. 

We also see that Si feng loves Xuan ji no matter who she is or what form she takes. Her gender doesn’t matter to him, and gender was never even an issue in the drama. The drama doesn’t give an explanation for why Bailing created a female body for the god of war (besides that he wanted to disguise Mosha’s appearance), but it also doesn’t matter. It’s a non-issue, and I love it. We just need to accept it, because the “why” isn’t important.

Xuan Ji has 3 different identities: The Star of Mosha (Luo Hou Ji Do), the god of war, and Xuan Ji the mortal. The god of war and Xuan Ji have the same “soul”, and that soul came from the glass of Mosha’s imprisonment lamp, and also from Mosha’s altered corporeal body. So, she is a part of Mosha, but has also become her own entity. 

To Si Feng, all 3 identities are Xuan Ji. The memories, emotions, and experiences of all the identities are what made Xuan Ji Xuan Ji, and so he loves all of them. 

But what made Xuan Ji finally crack so that she’s now able to love Si Feng in this 10th reincarnation? I think it has to do with her upbringing. We see in her previous 9 lives that she had a troubled upbringing filled with scheming and violence. So she was consumed by the darkest side of humanity and Si Feng couldn’t pull her out. But in this life, she grew up with an abundance of love, which made her want to learn how to love, which allowed her to open up to Si Feng. In this way, the drama shows that Si Feng alone isn’t enough to redeem her, but it took the love of her friends and family to help her grow a heart. 

The Angst

Okay. So. Si Feng has probably suffered more than any male lead in xianxia history. I think someone said that he has a martyr complex. But, I’d like to break down the type of angst that are present in dramas. 

There is angst that is harmless, and there is angst that is damaging to the relationship. 

Harmless angst is usually angst by external forces. Like parents who don’t allow their kids to be together. Like in AOL when Xufeng mistakenly thinks that Jin Mi might be his sister so he can’t be with her. In L&R, this kind of external angst happens when Si Feng mistakenly thinks that Xuan Ji likes her 6th sect brother Ming yan. Xuan Ji isn’t purposely hurting Si Feng, but it’s an unintentional misunderstanding. 

Damaging angst is when the couple turns against each other and become enemies. This happened when Jin Mi kills Xufeng and says she never loved him (which technically is true since her heart was re-sealed so she didn’t even understand what love was when she said it). In L&R, this happens Xuan Ji sides with her sect and attacks Si Feng when he reveals his demon form. This happens again when they confront each other outside the Lize Palace and she announces that she’s done with him and breaks ties with him. This happens again when she stabs him, says she regrets having ever known and loved him, and proceeds to try to stab him again. In Love and Redemption, Xuan Ji keeps saying hurtful things to him. There’s not just one moment of betrayal, but a constant onslaught of betrayals over 10 episodes that make the relationship feel like it’s entered a point of no return. 

The masochistic side of me likes love/hate relationships and damaging angst. I grew up with it. TVB dramas have a lot of it. My favourite is the angst in Raymond Lam and Charmain Sheh dramas like Drive of Life and Lethal Weapons of Love and Passion. But despite over 20 years of watching dramas, I was still not prepared for the pain and suffering in Love and Redemption. 

The good news is that they make up fairly quickly, though some may argue too quickly and easily. 

What I Enjoyed

Other xianxia romances usually only have 1 mortal reincarnation. This has 10 reincarnations (even if only shown briefly), and I love that. The leads have already had such a rich history together, but they don’t remember, and so the romance is about them falling in love all over again in this life, while also slowly remembering the love they had in their previous lifetimes. 

The world-building was also compelling, and the supporting characters were great. They were the voice of reason and talked sense into the main leads to help move the plot forward. I also liked how the ML and FL each had their own personal relationship with the supporting characters separate from each other. For instance, Ming yan has a childhood friendship with Xuan Ji, but he also develops his own friendship with Si Feng. Wu Ziqi was once Mosha’s helper, and also knew the god of war, but also forms his own friendship with Si Feng. Zi Hu is also friends with both Xuan Ji and Si Feng. Having separate friendships with the leads means that the supporting characters are unbiased. They’re not likely to help the ML more than the FL or vice versa, but they’re able to see both sides of things. They help the leads, but they’re also critical of them, and is therefore able to help the leads make rational decisions. It reminds me of the friendship dynamics in Avatar where the characters have unique relationships with each other. Like Toph has her own relationship dynamic with Sokka and Katara, which is different from Aang’s relationship dynamic with them. 

It goes without saying that Si Feng is the best part of the drama. He plays an emotionally repressed character, so it always feels like the heavens opened up when he smiles, and Xuan Ji seems to be the only one who can make him smile. SF's best moments are when he shows moments of vulnerability, like when he begs Xuan Ji not to cut ties with him, or when he's so happy to the point of disbelief and he's afraid of it being true that he begins to slightly quiver, like when he kept asking XJ if she was really the one who took off his mask. You can see him break down and not being able to contain his emotions and how much he’s desperately yearning for his love to be reciprocated. 

I like that the FL has the same personality throughout the drama. I'm always annoyed when the FL's personality takes a 360-degree turn when she has a sudden "awakening" when her past life memories come flooding back and she instantly matures and becomes jaded. In Love and Redemption, Xuan Ji stays her bubbly self, even when she’s burdened with responsibilities. Hell, even when she becomes a mother, she’s still aloof and playful. In episode 52 or so when she burns her leg and refuses to leave Si Feng’s house, she acts like a helpless little girl again. Si Feng tells her that such a small injury wouldn’t even faze someone as powerful as she is, but she reminds him that he once told her that even if she didn’t feel pain, her body would know the pain, and so she should always tell him when she’s hurt. I just like this throwback to the earlier episodes to show that while Xuan Ji has grown and matured, she’s still the same person who wants to be loved and pampered. 

Weaknesses of the Drama

Xuan Ji is a really multi-faceted and complex character (because of her villainous tendencies), but Crystal Yuan doesn’t completely deliver in all of her performances of the character. Crystal Yuan is great when she’s acting cute (though it reminds me a lot of Zhao Liying’s acting in Journey of Flower, even the voice actress is the same actress), but I feel like Crystal Yuan’s crying scenes are a little lacking. Also, Xuan Ji is a character who is often in moral and emotional conflict because she starts to feel emotions that she doesn’t understand since she’s never felt them before, but sometimes Crystal isn’t very convincing when trying to convey this internal conflict. For instance, in the scene when she thought Si Feng was getting married to Ah Lan, I thought that her devastation at seeing that should have been a bit more palpable. I mean, you finally found the love of your life after searching him for over a year and now he’s in front of you, about to get married to another woman. There should be more pain, anger, regret, disbelief, a battle of emotions unfolding on the face. There should have been more deflation, more staggering. I think back to when Tang Yan was watching Luo Jin get married to someone else in Princess Weiyoung, or when Jin Mi was watching Xufeng propose to Sui He in AOL, and the desperation and shock was subtle, but still so strong. You could feel the drop in your own stomach when sympathizing with the female character. 

I also obviously disliked how Xuan Ji didn’t believe Si Feng. But I would have understood why she didn’t believe him (even when he logically explained his innocence) since there are so many people pressuring her judgment, but what I can’t get over is how she had it in herself to physically hurt him. And she already hurt him before too, so she knows how much it pains her to hurt him. She already regretted the act before. But because she mistakenly thinks that he killed Hao Chen, she decides that she needs to kill him? Does Hao Chen mean that much to you that you’d be willing to sacrifice Si Feng in order to avenge him? That was my breaking point for her character. 

I didn’t like how Hao Chen’s arc was resolved. For 1000 years, he thought he was right and never had any regrets. He was obsessed with controlling his friend Mosha to the point of killing him and sealing his soul away. He then created another being, became possessive over that being to the point of falling in love with it (without admitting it), and then follows his creation down to the mortal world, and wrecks havoc on the mortals, especially Si Feng. And when Hao Chen learns that he can no longer control or redeem Xuan Ji, he decides that he needs to kill her in order to prevent Mosha from coming back. But then suddenly, because of a few words and visions from the Jade Emperor, he immediately has a change of heart and sees the error of his ways. It’s just so anti-climactic. Yuan Long’s ending was also underwhelming. I just wanted the good guys and bad guys to fight it out without divine intervention. 

While I sympathize with Si Feng and agree that it's like watching a puppy get kicked over and over again, he honestly gets jealous way too easily and is too insecure. He also keeps everything to himself and sucks at communicating. We blame Xuan Ji for being too quick at jumping to conclusions, but Si Feng also jumps to conclusions too and causes unnecessary pain for himself. 

Overall Impression

Overall, despite the frustrations, I really liked the consistency of the drama. It flows as one complete narrative and all the subplots are well intertwined with the main plot. With other reincarnation xianxia dramas, you could divide the story into distinct arcs, but it’s harder to do with this one since you have arcs that overlap and transcend other arcs. There’s the mask arc, the god of war arc, the reincarnation arc, the demon identity arc, the Mosha arc, etc. Before one arc is completed, another arc is introduced.

If you’re looking for a be-all-end-all, til the end of time and end of the world romance, this is it. While it has many similar tropes to other xianxias like AOL, I think this executes the tropes better. Although if you’ve already watched AOL or other xianxias, you might be more immune to the angst (even though this drama is angstier). But if you watch this drama first, I think it sets the bar pretty high for other xianxia dramas.

The chemistry and sexually tension is also through the roof (and the BTS will have you raising your eyebrows - are costars normally that flirty and touchy feely on set?)

So yes, this drama does live up to the hype. More meta posts to come because I’m still going through withdrawal. 

(Just checked the word count on this review, and it’s over 4700 words. I’m clearly an obsessed mess). 

Other meta posts:

Recurring details and motifs in Love and Redemption

Similarities to other stories in movies and literature

[uglierdaikon]

I’ve had this one WIP sitting in my documents forever, and as hard as I’ve tried I absolutely cannot think of a direction to take it in but I really like what I have written, so I’ve decided to say “fuck it” and just post what I’ve got in here and let y’all imagine whatever ending for it you’d like. Without further ado, I present my long-deceased Witch!Nene x Demon!Hanako au:

            Nene, my love. Whatever happens do not forget that you are special. You were born special. You will help so many people.

             Nene couldn’t remember her mother very well. She had been so young when she died. In the furthest, foggiest corners of her mind, she could recall the long gray skirt that she clung to and hid behind when the other townspeople jeered at her. There was silvery hair like hers, and surely a face that would resemble hers. She remembered a voice that sang, a voice that stood up for her, a voice that told her, you are special. You will help so many people.

              And so she did. Although people were still unkind, still jeered at her, still called her an unnatural thing, she helped them. Some learned to be kind, and those were the ones who made it feel worth it. The others… well, the others couldn’t help that they found her strange. She was strange. Witches weren’t supposed to be born—they were made, by sealing deals with demons. And yet, she’d had magic from infancy. This marked her as an oddity, and people were afraid of things they didn’t understand. The rumors that swirled around the village about her certainly didn’t help. But Nene didn’t mind. Or, at least, she told herself she didn’t mind.

              There was work to be done. A farmer wanted a spell to help his cow get pregnant; the blacksmith wanted his tools bewitched to feel lighter to ease the strain on his aging back; a merchant from a nearby town had written her asking for a cure for his wife’s morning sickness. Morning sickness was simple enough—if you knew your plants well enough, you didn’t even need magic. She’d start with that.

              Nene set out her pestle and mortar on her worktable, then went to her cabinet for ingredients, whispering them to herself as she searched.

              “Cinnamon, dragon’s blood, rose petals… ginger.” She stopped short, carefully tucking jars of the other three ingredients in the crook of her left arm. “Have I used up all my ginger?” She shifted jars and vials and other magical odds and ends around her shelves, but there was no ginger hidden amongst them. She swore softly, set the other ingredients down on the table, and grabbed her cloak. She’d have to run out to her garden.

              She stepped out her back door and into the cool night. It had been unseasonably warm as of late, but now a chill wind nipped at her nose. Still, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, taking in the scents of damp earth and autumn rot. The woods around her house seemed to thrum with gentle sounds, crickets and owls and the wind shuffling through the leaves. Nene smiled to herself, then hurried off to her garden. She knew it well enough that the dark was no impediment to her finding her ginger. She knelt carefully between other rows of plants and tugged up what she needed and a little extra, for next time.

              As she stood and began to brush dirt from her dress, Nene heard a rustling that did not belong to the thrum of her woods. It was a disruption, a discordant note. She heard a twig snap not far off and nearly dropped her ginger. Her immediate thought was that she should run—people may have been coming to accept her, but she wasn’t naïve enough to believe there was no one in the village who would do her harm. She should run, but her legs wouldn’t move except to tremble.

              “H-hello!” she called cautiously. Perhaps it was just someone lost. Or maybe it was only an animal, and she was being paranoid because some foul-tempered old woman had told her she was going to hell the day before. “Is anyone out there?”

              There was a pause, and then the rustling and crunching of leaves and earth continued, louder and closer. Nene frantically tried to think of a spell—something to freeze them, or confuse them. But when a shape finally moved in the darkness, all she could do was shriek, “Don’t hurt me!” and squeeze her eyes shut.

              Silence. No rustling, no movement. No attempt to seize her, or worse. Nene peeked an eye open, then the other. There was… nothing.

              “Meeeooow.”

              Nene jumped, then laughed. At the edge of the woods, mere feet from her garden, was a small black cat with golden eyes.

              “Well, hello there,” she said, crouching down and holding her hand out to it. “You sure gave me a fright, didn’t you? Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.” The cat peered at her curiously, then took slow, cautious steps forward. When Nene reached to scratch it behind the ears, it flinched away. “I suppose people aren’t very kind to you, hm? Black cats are supposed to be a curse, you know. But I’m supposed to be cursed, too, and the only sign I see of it is in my love life. So I’m not afraid of curses.” The cat stepped toward her again. It seemed to her to be trying to communicate something with its eyes, some need or question. “Are you hungry little fella? I’ve got some catnip growing here.” The cat circled behind her, and in her squatted position it was awkward to turn to try to face it.

              “You shouldn’t feed strays. We’ll just keep coming back.” The voice came from directly behind her. Male. Dark. Amused, like he was laughing at her. Nene stumbled forward, whipping around to look at him once she was somewhat upright again. Where the cat should have been, there was a man dressed in fine black clothing, with choppy black hair and golden eyes. He was smiling at her, and the smile was not kind.

              “You—you—how, I—”

              His smile widened.

              “Hello there, little witch,” he said. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?” He looked her over like an animal eyeing its dinner. Nene pulled her cloak tighter around herself.

              “Wh-who are you? What do you want?” she managed to stammer. She tried to think of a spell, something to confuse him, or send him away. She didn’t have it in her to hurt someone, but she couldn’t expect the same of him. They were alone here by the woods, a long way from any neighbors that might care enough to help her.

              The man’s smile quickly morphed into a pout, and his eyebrows knit together. He stepped closer and leaned forward to peer at her. Nene made an odd squeaking sound and stepped back.

              “You haven’t been expecting me?” he asked. Before Nene could say anything, or think further about what to do, he reached out and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “Hm. You really don’t know who I am.”

              “Y-yes, that would be why I asked,” she said, jerking her head to break free of his grip. He tapped his chin thoughtfully and began to circle her. “You do know what I am though, don’t you?”

              She didn’t. She had been too shocked, too frightened to see him as anything but some frightening man in her garden, possibly a warlock. But now that he asked, she didn’t know how she hadn’t sensed it, the power radiating off of him. The magic.

              “You’re a demon,” she said, her voice very audible. There was nothing she could do. No defense. What was her magic against a creature like him?

              The man gave her a small nod.

              “Tell me then, little witch,” he said. “How did you get your powers?”

              “I was born with them,” she said. Her voice was stronger—she’d had enough of that line of questioning over the years. He smiled at her, and she managed the courage to hold his gaze. She hoped he couldn’t tell that under her dress, her knees were shaking.

              “Were you now?” he said. “Oh, I do think I like you.”

              As he passed again on her left, he ghosted a hand through her long hair, watching as it faded from silver to green between his fingertips. The look in his eyes had changed into something less playful, just for a moment, and it did funny things to Nene’s already racing heart. Finally, he came to a stop in front of her again. The too-wide smile had reappeared.

              “I have a proposal for you,” he said. “I came tonight to claim something, but I can think of a much more entertaining game. How about a wager? What I want against what you want.”

              Nene narrowed her eyes.

              “What do you know about what I want?” she asked. His eyes narrowed slightly, but they still held their humor.

              “Oh, I can make some guesses,” he said. “I wager that in a week’s time, I will be able to tempt you into agreeing to… something. If I fail, I’ll be on my way, and I’ll never haunt your doorstep again. If I win, well. You’ll have agreed to my terms anyways.”

              “I don’t want any part in your wager,” she said. She tried to sound firm. Being firm with people who meant to manipulate her usually worked—it was a strategy a boy in town named Kou had taught her many years before.

              He shrugged.

              “Then I’ll just take what I came for and go,” he said, advancing toward her. Nene quickly scrambled back.

              “No!” she cried. She couldn’t imagine what horrible thing a demon could want to demand from her. “…Just a week? And once you fail, you’ll go.”

              He chuckled.

              “At once,” he said. “If I fail.”

              Nene scraped together the last of her courage and nodded. He would leave. She would lose nothing to him, face no harm whatsoever, as long as she simply said no to anything he might offer her. He would be gone.

              “Then it’s a deal.”

              His smile grew wider. Before she could react, he had wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest.

              “Do you know how demons usually seal their deals, little witch?” he asked, putting a hand under her chin to tilt her face up towards him. His gold eyes were hooded, locked onto her lips. Nene couldn’t form words, couldn’t form thoughts, as he slowly leaned in and—

              “No!” she cried, turning her face away. He stopped short. When she dared to peek at him, she saw his eyes were wide, like she’d startled him. That was a thought. Her, startling a demon. Then he laughed, and let go of her waist.

              “If you insist,” he said. He took her face in two large hands, tilted it slightly downward, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s sealed. We’ll begin tomorrow.” Before her eyes, he began to fade into nothingness. “Good luck, Miss Yashiro.”

[sergeantsporks]

Can You Die of a Broken Heart?

Teen

Gen

When Nari said "the order will rip your soul to pieces," Douxie thought she meant literally. Turns out, they can do it figuratively AND literally.

Ao3

Series: I Can Make RotT So Much Worse

Based on this post by @spellcasterdouxie

“Why don’t we try to get a little information out of him, first?”

Douxie’s head jerked up. He couldn’t betray his friends—but if they were interrogating him, it meant they wouldn’t have Nari for just that much longer.

Bellroc rolled their eyes. “What information could he possibly have?”

Skrael shrugged. “A secret weapon? An idea left behind by Merlin? I think we should take a look around inside of that stupid, stupid head of his. Since he’s around, anyway.” His hands glowed with magic. “You made a mistake, wizard. You put your soul in the body of another. That makes it… vulnerable. Exposed.”

Magic pulsed out of Skrael’s hand, striking Douxie’s head. At first, it seemed like nothing had happened. Then hundreds and hundreds of glowing strands erupted from his head, stretching out.

Bellroc’s eyes seemed to light with a cruel glow. “Memories…” they hissed, reaching out.

When their hand touched a glowing strand, it erupted into a scene Douxie knew well—a lecture from Merlin. Over something he’d broken, of course.

“Useless,” Bellroc growled. They seized the glowing thread, and with a flick of their wrist, it snapped off.

Douxie felt a tug in his gut, and an overwhelming feeling of something being… missing. He’d just seen the memory—and he knew there was something that he’d remembered before, but it was gone, and no matter how he tried, he couldn’t find it.

The order tore through memories like a wildfire, pulling up and discarding them. Planning the subway trap with the other guardians of arcadia—gone. Krel’s designs for the amulet—Bellroc and Skrael watched for a bit, then ripped those away, too. The empty pit in Douxie’s stomach grew wider and wider, and the missing memories left him with a spinning head. It didn’t hurt, per se, it was just… disorienting. He knew he should feel upset—but it was hard to feel upset over losing something you didn’t remember having.

“Remember when I told you magic is mastery over life?”

Douxie lifted his head. “N-no,” he gasped, trying to pull back, “That’s—that’s—don’t—please—”

“My, Hisirdoux, what a life you’ve lived.”

Bellroc grabbed one of his horns and yanked him up. “What a pathetic life you’ve lived.”

“What a wizard you’ve become.”

“P-please—”

Skrael seemed to take special delight in ripping that one away.

“N—” Douxie’s heart hurt, but he didn’t know why, he just knew that he’d lost something, something important to him.

“A wizard does not make mistakes. He makes unexpected—”

Douxie screamed as the Order ripped through memories, until he wasn’t sure why they were important anymore.

A gentle purr—nothing but stone.

Smiles and laughs—a circular room

Moments with his student—train tracks and darkness.

A being made of ice tilted his head up, sharp claws tracing his face but not breaking skin. “Have you ever heard the Egyptian’s theory on the soul? They believed it was made of several parts. One was the ren—the name. But it was more than the name—it was memories.”

His head was spinning, and spinning, and he couldn’t remember anything but this room of stone and darkness. He managed a guttural moan—he wanted someone, needed someone so badly it hurt, but he couldn’t remember who—

The ice being jerked on one of his horns. “Your memories are an important part of you, wizard.”

Wizard? What…?

“Experience makes you who you are—without your memories, you’re just a sad, sad husk.”

A fire being spat. “Enough. We have spent long enough on this creature. Return it to its body. Without its memories, it would not even know to attack us.”

“I’d rather not take the risk.” The ice being leaned back. “When you see its soul…”

“We’ll get Nari back. But he… he will not go home.”

What… he was too tired, too sick, too lonely to figure out what they were talking about.

And then the two beings started chanting, and the world dissolved into pain, soul-crushing pain.

At least, he’d thought it was soul-crushing. Until he felt himself tearing out of his body, and the ice and fire being grabbed hold of his soul and pulled.

Turned out, there was a feeling worse than soul-crushing.

Soul ripping.

They tore at his being, and even though he was out of a body, he somehow still felt it, in every fiber of his being, that horrible, horrible tearing sensation, like taffy that had been pulled just a little too far.

Some instinct, some nagging voice in the back of his head screamed at him to end it! End the spell now, before they destroy you!

And he didn’t know what that meant, he didn’t know what spell, but maybe the little voice in the back of his head took over because he was waking up in a completely new place, in a body that was different, but felt… more familiar.

“Wha—huh—I—”

“Douxie!” A cat barreled into him, and he instinctively hugged it. It just felt… right, but he didn’t know why.

Some kid with scars on his face stared him meaningfully in the eye. “Douxie, do you know where they are?! Where’s the order, where do they have Nari?”

That sure was a lot of words that probably meant something. He shook his head. “I—I’m sorry—I really am—but—who’s Douxie?”

Xxx

“I can lock onto Nari. We’ll get her.”

Jim glanced back at the vacant Douxie, who was patting Archie, apparently with no clue of who he was. “We might need his magic.”

“We can’t take him along like this! It would be murder!” Claire twisted around to look at him, shaking his head. “Besides, I… I don’t know if he remembers how to do magic. Jim, what if we lost him?!”

Jim brushed her cheek with one hand. “Hey… look at me. Look at me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Douxie, it’s that he always finds a way to come back. He died, remember? And he still came back to us. He’ll get better.”

“He doesn’t remember who he is, who we are! What if he can’t come back?!”

“Then we’ll find a way to bring him back. We’ll find a spell, or Krel will be able to invent something—we won’t leave him like this. I promise.”

Xxx

Douxie—apparently that was his name. That’s what they kept telling him. He didn’t know. All he knew was the last hour of his life—the last horrible, painful hour of his life.

He hadn’t known it was so bad—not until he came here, where there was light, and everything was soft and kind, instead of harsh and painful.

And there was Archie, the cat.

Jim and Claire approached. “We’re heading out,” Jim said quietly to Archie.

Archie jumped up with a hiss. “Douxie’s not going. He needs to recover.”

“We weren’t planning on it,” Claire soothed, “No taking Douxie into dangerous situations right now. Promise.”

Archie leapt into Douxie’s lap. “I’m staying with him.”

“But what if we need—”

“Douxie needs me more. Go.”

Claire and Jim exchanged a glance, then left without a word. Archie snuggled down further in Douxie’s lap. Douxie absentmindedly stroked the cat. “Who’s your owner?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Then… who takes care of you?”

Archie gave him a look that was just so deeply sad it made Douxie want to cry, although he wasn’t sure why. “I… have a friend. My familiar.”

Douxie settled back, petting him. “What happened to him? Why isn’t he here?”

Archie started to shake a little bit. “He… didn’t come back from a fight.”

Douxie gave the cat a little squeeze. “I’m sorry.” They sat in silence, then, “Tell me about him?”

And Archie did.

He told Douxie about a wizard. About all of the adventures they’d shared. All of the hardships they’d endured—but all of the good times they’d had, too. He told him about a strict master who’d eventually given his own life for his apprentice. About how his familiar had taught Claire magic. How he’d saved the world, at the cost of his own life—then had come back from the dead.

He told him about how strong the wizard was. How brave. How kind. How clever, even if sometimes his “cleverness” backfired in his face.

Douxie’s heart ached for the cat and his familiar. It was obvious how much Archie had loved his wizard—and he’d lost him. Would have to live without him. “I’m sorry,” he said again, “He sounded…”

Archie buried himself in Douxie’s jacket. “Yes. I have to believe…”

“Believe what?”

“I have to believe that he’ll come back.” Archie twisted out, his eyes desperately searching Douxie’s. “That you’ll come back.”

An eerie sense of familiarity swept over him, the worst déjà vu.

Those stories.

They were… his stories?

He was the wizard?

What had the order done to him?!

Tears for his lost life sprang up in his eyes, and he hugged Archie, mind whirling in a thousand directions at once. It was like the Order was shredding his soul all over again—he’d had a whole life, 900 years of it, and it had been taken away. He didn’t know who he was—the only thing he had was stories of who he’d used to be, echoes of friendships he used to have. And now? What was he supposed to do?

“Douxie?” Archie asked quietly.

“I want to be him. I want to be him again, I want to be your familiar, I want to be Douxie again.” He scrubbed at his eyes. “There has to be some way to get back the memories they took, please—I… I don’t want to lose you.”

Archie purred. “Memories or not, you will always be my familiar. Nothing will change that. You won’t lose me.” He tilted his head at Douxie. “I know the world might be ending soon and all, but… how would you feel about going on a different adventure?”

“What?”

“I don’t know if we can get your memories back, Douxie. But we can certainly make new ones.”

[just-like-playing-tag]

I have a very tragic question. What if Emma died by fighting demons & her close friends/family witnessed her die (ofc that includes Norman...)? Can u imagine how her friends/family would react to her sacrifice?

Yay it's sad headcanons hours!!!

Norman: Dead. Destroyed. Seeing Emma die in front of him would literally be his worst nightmare coming to reality. He'd probably be not accepting she's gone and would keep shaking her corpse for a long time, screaming, tears uncontrollably streaming down his face, begging her to come back. Don has to take him by force away from Emma's body because he just won't leave her. After the event, he spends a week at home alone, not allowing anyone near him. Nobody knows what he did during that time. But I believe after some time he will find the strength to keep going on, and return to relative normality. He knows that there's people who needs him: be it the habit of being a leader or his innate kindness and altruism, but he knows he can't abandon his family. And he has swore not to leave Ray on his own. So he keeps living. He constantly tries to keep his mind busy, not allowing himself to indulge on painful memories, which will lead to him constantly overworking himself (it takes an inhuman amount of work to distract that big smart head of his). He tells himself that's what Emma would have wanted, that he has to keep living for her. But a certain light has left his eyes, and it will never come back. He will blame himself for her death for the rest of his life, never being able to let it go.

Ray: His immediate reaction to Emma dying in front of his eyes is not as strong as Norman's: maybe it's because he's already experienced many near death experiences with her, but he isn't taking that she's dead. He waits for her to get up, frozen in disbelief. For the first time in his life, his fast reflexes and incredible observation skills just can't keep up with what's happening around him. Why is everyone screaming? Why is Norman crying? Emma cannot be dead, that's impossible. Emma is too strong to die. Everyone needs her, and he knows she would never abandon them. But then what's happening? Why doesn't she get up? With Emma dying, time stopped moving for Ray. He can't put himself to do anything. His life has lost any meaning. He's shocked. He's furious. He's desperate. And soon enough, he just stops living. He knows that's not what Emma would have wanted, and he feels sorry for that; but he's not strong enough to keep going on. I think there's kind of a deep meaning to his reaction? Thanks to Emma, Ray started living: he started thinking that happiness, freedom, love attended him in his life, when previously he only saw death. Now, with her dying, he has once again lost all of it, and all that's left is emptiness. I don't think Ray would kill himself because that would be REALLY disrespectful towards Emma, but I think he would essentially just let himself exist, and stop living. His family would try to cheer him up as much as possible, but with time it becomes evident it's all useless. However, they keep hanging out with him, as they don't want to leave him alone, and he really appreciates it. But his family loving him and him allowing himself to love them back is just another part of Emma's legacy, and it hurts in its own way. Norman insists for the two of them to move in together, and Ray doesn't oppose, but in his life there's now this gigantic, empty space that is impossible to fill, and that crushes him more and more every day, slowly consuming him.

(Oh my God I've made myself sad?? Jk forget about it, if Emma died Ray would party.)

Gilda: When Emma dies, Gilda's world falls upon her. She can't believe it. Her first reaction is similar to Ray's, but in her case rage fastly takes over the other emotions. Emma shouldn't have abandoned her family, the children that so much looked up to her. Emma had no right to betray Gilda, to leave her alone. Of course it's just a defense mechanism, and Gilda doesn't really believe that, but right now that's for her the easiest, most immediate reaction in order to not let the pain kill her. She's losing sight of what's the meaning of living, now that Emma's gone, fastly falling to desperation. Eventually Don will be able to bring her out of her state, and show her that there's plenty of things that make life worth living. I truly believe these two have an amazing relationship, and they would be of great help to each other with coping with the grief. Gilda is going to be ok, because that was the most important thing for Emma, for her friends to be happy.

Don: Let me get this straight: he's as desperate and lost as everyone else. He just lost one of the most precious people in his life and he's absolutely destroyed. He cries a lot, on the spot and the days and nights after. Emma was a big model and inspiration for him, but before that, she was a dear friend like no others. However, I think between him and the people before listed he would be the most functional one although the pain. He's broken, but he still manages to get up and push the others to move forward. Now that Emma is gone, he knows that somebody has to take her place; and even though he knows there's no one like her, he can at least try to be the support the children need. His family needs him, and he owes it to Emma. After Emma's death he will be the most helpful guide to help the others overcome the grief- which is sad in its own way, because if he helps everyone, then who helps him? I hope these kids will get therapy.

Anna and Nat: Shocked. Desperate. Heartbroken. They're young enough to see Emma as an older sister and old enough to fully feel the pain of her death. Hopefully they will be able to recover.

GF children: They're all so confused and lost. They can't understand what's happening. More than Emma's death, which is hard to process on it's own, they're shattered by their older siblings reactions. They would be upset indeed, but I believe children have a magical way to cope, and they will eventually be able to overcome the pain. They're the ones that best cherish Emma's memory, truly believing that she lives in their hearts and in their happiness. They become the greatest cheer up and drive to keep living for the older ones.

Phil: Heartbroken!!!!!! Miserable! Inconsolable! Emma's death deeply signs him. It takes him weeks to fully recover. After that he will try acting as normal as possible, especially for his younger siblings, but he'll never manage to be as cheerful and thoughtless as he used to be ever again. His childhood died with Emma.

Oliver: He cries a lot. Since Emma was younger than himself, he loved her as a younger sister, and when she dies, he blames himself for failing to protect her. However, he will do his best to reassure and help the others. Goldy Pond's experience taught him that it feels better to keep yourself busy, so that your mind won't have the time to linger on the pain. It isn't the best coping mechanism for him to handle the trauma with, but he indeed was of great help to fill the leader space Emma had left behind.

GP group: Upset. I like to believe that with the time they spent together at the bunker, they started loving Emma as a sister, rather than looking at her as a leader or a hero. That made her death all the more dreadful. Emma's death brought back once again the horror and desperation of the hunting ground, the pain of losing the family you loved. Having it suddenly brought back after such a long time was horrible: multiple people had breakdowns, with many thinking that such suffering is destined to haunt them forever. Eventually, with the support of their family they will help each other to get out it. Group therapy guys!!!

[pillage-and-lute]

The Courting Ways of Wolves (Part 2)

It’s back! Dumb boys in love! Also Grandpa Vesemir gets some feels and Geralt does some math. Part 1, (here) Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue

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Watching Winter at Kaer Morhen melt into early spring was always a beautiful process, but this year brought Geralt trepidation as well. Watching Ciri train had been wonderful, helping her learn the basics kept all the wolves on their toes, for the first time in many years actually thinking about motions that normally came from muscle memory. 

Yennefer had flourished into her role as “Aunty Yen,” not sweetly nurturing, the way one often thought about with children, but a clever tongue and tough love that Ciri, granddaughter of the Lioness, seemed completely at home with. 

Geralt was doing his best too. Ciri had started calling him dad about halfway through the winter, the first time happening at dinner and he’d very nearly choked on his ale. It sent something warm running through his veins every time, like good brandy that burned all the way down. 

He was trying, words still didn’t come naturally, but somehow Ciri always seemed to be able to see exactly what he meant. Maybe it was Destiny, maybe just a hurt, lost child clinging to whoever was consistent in her life, but Geralt hoped it was more. More than anything, he hoped Ciri truly understood how cared for she was, not just by himself, but all the wolves, Jaskier, and Yennefer.

Ciri had whispered to him one day, still panting after training, asking if he thought Yen would mind if she called her mom.

Geralt had replied that he didn’t think Yennefer would mind at all.

Yennefer came to him later, a tender look in her eyes. There was something, not fragile in her eyes, but Jaskier had pointed out in a marketplace once, a beautiful porcelain vase that had been broken and artfully repaired with gold. Yen’s expression reminded him of that. 

They sat for a while, then Yennefer said, “Will you be able to let go of her in the spring?” 

“Yes,” Geralt said, although he was less than sure that parting from Ciri would be so easy. “She needs you, and time away from me. And to be around women.”

Yennefer nodded, gave Geralt a pat on the shoulder, and left. Geralt stayed, cloak wrapped around him as he sat looking out over the walls. 

There was much that would happen in the spring, and his life, which had been pretty stagnant before, was changing more in these past few years than it ever had. He felt like Kaer Morhen itself, built to last and yet crumbling still, the weight of change and time and destiny tearing down walls. 

He watched the sun go down. 

Vesemir joined him, carrying two bowls of stew. Geralt took a bite of his and winced. It had been Eskel’s turn to cook. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Vesemir’s mustache twitch with a hint of a smile. They ate the oversalted meal in silence.

“You know,” Vesemir said, and in the starlight the crags on his face looked carved in. “I come up here to think too.” 

Geralt knew, but Vesemir wasn’t interested in talking about the battlements, he could tell. 

“I think, most nights, about the ghosts within these walls. All of the little boys who died so that the School of the Wolf could be.” The wind picked up, howling like, with an excellent sense of the dramatic, a wolf. 

“The Trials haunt me, Geralt. More than anything in my life, and it has been a long life indeed.” 

“You saved me,” Geralt said. “Saved Eskel.” But he too remembered the still bodies carried out and buried in the night. How few boys remained. Remembered the screaming in the night, unsure how much of the sound was torn from his own throat, and what came from his brothers dying around him.

“I let them put you through it twice. That wasn’t salvation, lad.” Vesemir sighed. “I couldn’t have put a stop to the Trials, don’t know if I would have if it were possible, there have to be Trials to be witchers, and the world needs us, whatever it may believe. But maybe there was a better way. A kinder way. You were boys, little lads who went through so much pain.”

Geralt was startled to see a tear fall down the craggy face, burying in the moustache. Witchers could cry, but it happened rarely, tears could blur vision in a fight, and only very strong emotion, the sort they had been taught to suppress,  could override the mutations. 

And then Vesemir put an arm around Geralt’s shoulder and gave him an oddly nice hug. It could have cracked a boulder.

“Someone should have held you boys more,” Vesemir said, a touch abashedly. They looked out over the walls some more and Geralt wondered if the conversation was over, but Vesemir didn’t take the arm away.

“Ciri called me Grandpa today.”

Ah. That would explain a lot. Watching Vesemir interact with Ciri over the winter had been a delight and a surprise to the wolves. He’d even sat her on his knee and told her stories of when Lambert, Eskel, and Geralt were young like a, well, like a doting grandfather. Jaskier had been enthralled as well, naturally, but seeing Vesemir so soft, and sometimes looking a little sad, around Ciri, had been an education for the men who would always think of themselves as ‘Vesemir’s Little Lads’.

“She won’t be a witcher,” Vesemir said. “Couldn’t be even if we would want it, and I never would.”

“No,” Geralt said.

No,” agreed Vesemir. They looked out over the darkened landscape.

“I never wanted a family,” Vesemir said after a while where their breaths hung in the air before them. “‘O course, witchers aren’t supposed to, but you’ve built a nice little family for yourself, laddie. It’s not as may be, not like you’d find in villages or in your pet bard’s fancy songs. But you’ve a brave and rather headstrong daughter, and she has a mum, and a dad, and two already very protective uncles.”

“And a grandpa,” Geralt cut in.

“And a grandpa,” Vesemir agreed. “But a family needs a little more than that. There’s gotta be someone to teach the lass how to love.”

Geralt was about to protest that he’d seen plenty of loveless marriages, but then considered the results in the children. Jaskier was one, he knew. The sort of lost way Jaskier sucked up approval, when they’d first met, the way he’d drank up compliments like a man with water in the desert, whenever Geralt thought on it there was a sort of humming ache. He’d consulted with Eskel on the feeling, concerned it was illness. Apparently, it was just what happened when someone you loved was hurting and it wasn’t something you could kill or fix.

“It doesn’t need to be romantic love,” Vesemir said, obviously seeing Geralt’s face. “And she’ll know how to love family fine, and how to love friends, as you and Yennefer figure that out between the two of you. But your bard loves you, and the way you love him can teach her how to love others and herself. And if Ciri has another dad maybe you can worry less.”

Geralt chuckled. Ciri could have fifty parents, and Geralt would still lose sleep worrying. Vesemir smiled back at him, eyes crinkling and moustache lifting like a bristle brush that had learned to fly. Then he slapped Geralt on the back, and Geralt, the White Wolf of Rivia, Butcher of Blaviken, the witcher who had twice survived the Trials, felt his spine compress like a spring and he was sure he felt a rib creak.

“Love Jaskier, lad. Hold tight to him. We rarely get good things.”

Then Vesemir walked back inside and Geralt stared after him. There weren’t many old witchers, dangers of the job and all that, but Vesemir was proof that witchers, like oak wood, only solidified with age. 

Geralt followed him inside. 

The next days passed in a flurry of activity. Ciri had been let off of training with the wolves to pack for her journey with Yennefer, and to be quickly given the rundown of the basics of magic. The wolves were packing as well, preparing to leave Kaer Morhen. In between final preparations and weapon repair, Geralt checked over The List.

The List was supposed to help him court Jaskier. It was the combined brainchild of everyone (except Jaskier, of course) at Kaer Morhen. More importantly, his intention to court Jaskier met with Ciri’s approval. 

When the day arrived, Geralt felt a curious lump in his throat. He watched Ciri say goodbye to Eskel and Lambert, the latter picking her up and swinging her in an arc, letting her joyful whoop echo about the courtyard. Then she hugged Vesemir, and he crushed her very gently to him. And then she turned to him and Jaskier. 

He was thankful that Ciri bade Jaskier goodbye first, watching the bard wipe a surupticious tear away as he held the blonde girl. It was Geralt’s turn and he didn’t know what to do. He cleared his throat.

“Follow Yennefer’s instructions,” he said. That didn’t seem like enough. “And don’t talk to strangers,” he said. It still seemed insufficient but he was out of advice so he stuck out his hand to shake. Ciri laughed and leapt at him, throwing her arms around his neck.

He held her there, reveling in hugging his daughter, his child surprise, who was so full of surprises and he felt, for the first time in many years, the feeling of rather full tear ducts. He blinked them away. 

“Good luck,” Ciri whispered in his ear. Jaskier wouldn’t have heard, but the witchers with their enhanced hearing surely had. Geralt nodded and set her down.

He coughed awkwardly and pulled out a little packet wrapped in burlap and some rough twine. Ciri beamed and pulled at the string so that the packaging fell away. A long piece of metal, bent into a thin U shape lay in his palm, the ends were surprisingly sharp. Ciri picked it up and examined it, then looked up at him questioningly. 

“Hair pin,” Geralt said gruffly. “For your hair. And stabbing.” He mimed a clumsy, underhanded stab. “Eskel helped me silver plate it. For monsters. But also men, if they’re close enough.” He trailed off, knowing he sounded awkward. Who gave a self defense implement as a gift?

Ciri beamed at him again. “I love it,” she said, also miming a few stabs. He supposed that as a parent he shouldn’t be so proud of the light in his daughter’s eyes when she talked about stabbing, but he was almost certain that she got that trait from Jaskier, who tended to get...pointed about disagreements in pubs.

Yennefer stepped forward and carefully took the hair pin from their daughter, swooping her silver blonde hair back into a twist and sliding it in place. She placed a hand on Ciri’s shoulder and smiled at Geralt, and he was reminded again of that vase, stronger and more beautiful for the cracks in the facade. She then gave him a quick side hug and and even one for Jaskier, and opened a portal.

Geralt stared after his friend and his daughter long after the portal closed, until Jaskier, hand wrapped in a heavy mitten, gently took his wrist. They waved to the other wolves, and left, Roach walking obediently alongside. 

And then it was just the two of them. Again. Just like the last twenty years. That thought occupied him as they made it down the Killer. The path down from Kaer Morhen was deadly, but that year Geralt made it down without thinking, keeping half a thought to Jaskier’s ambling form as he went.

How old was Jaskier? 

He’d been eighteen or so when they met. Eighteen plus twenty-two was forty. Forty wasn’t that old for a human but Jaskier didn’t look too much different than he had at...Geralt did the math. Twenty-five? But there were signs. A few lines here and there, although Jaskier was insistent about his skincare. A line of silver, just a few hairs, probably unnoticable except to Geralt’s enhanced eyes. He was aging better than a human should.

Or perhaps not. Time was tricky for witchers, never staying in one place, never knowing people long enough to watch them age, he didn’t really know what to compare Jaskier to. 

He did know how long humans lived though. And at the base of the mountain he came to a resolution, felt it settle in to his bones as deep as his mutations, deeper, even. 

Twenty years, or nearly, where he hadn’t known Jaskier. Twenty more where he hadn’t admitted they were friends, or that he loved him. Eighty years in a human life span. And Geralt would love Jaskier, and make sure he knew he was loved, for the next four decades, give or take. He looked at his companion, paused as they were to give their feet and Roach a rest. The weak, watery sun of the early spring day fell on Jaskier’s face, dappled through the branches, which as of yet held no buds.

He pictured lines appearing, laugh lines, smile lines, crinkles carving themselves into the landscape of the familiar features. He pictured silver through the hair, more, in thicker streaks at the temples. Geralt saw a lifetime, Jaskier’s lifetime, in an instant. Silver covered warm brown, strong legs grew shakey, lines crowned a forehead and swept about clear eyes. 

What would happen, Geralt thought, when Jaskier could no longer keep up? But Geralt knew what would happen. He’d take Jaskier to Kaer Morhen, or go with him to Oxenfurt, and spend his days with him. It had been a few short months since he’d realized he was in love with Jaskier, but that was only because Geralt’s skill with emotions was roughly similar to Jaskier’s apparent self preservation. Why had he let the lad talk to him in a pub? Had he loved him then? He remembered the shock of not being feared, of looking into clear, bright eyes and seeing admiration, the fierce protectiveness that had flared when he woke and saw the fool tied to him in an elven lair. Had it been love? 

Watching Jaskier whisper softly to Roach as snow melted around him, Geralt was sure it had been. Destiny, Fate, the two bit tart who kept fucking him over, had given him his greatest blessing in a form that Geralt, up until that very second had considered a myth. Love at first sight. Love had brought him Jaskier, and Ciri, and a fast friendship with the most powerful mage on the Continent. Love had brought him a family in the form of a wayward bard with bread in his pants. And Geralt had forty more years to cherish him. 

Step One the list had said in Eskel’s clear writing. Kiss his hand. Being mindful of Step Two, to mind his manners, Geralt crossed the clearing to Jaskier and took the thick woolen mitten in his gloved hand. 

“May I?” he said. Jaskier gave him a baffled look, but nodded.

Geralt pressed chapped lips to a palm wrapped in knitted wool, and Jaskier smiled, albeit a little confusedly. It didn’t matter. Geralt wanted to spend the next forty years wrapped in that smile. 

Then Jaskier asked him if he was feeling well.

[hag-rambling-on]

Boys hc’s feats Diaspro

Riven

Riven Cassios was born to two Omega prisoners. What surprised everyone, because staying healthy enough to carry out a pregnancy on a planet that sucks your magic is... Obviously the Rocalucce Council keeps an eye on the planet, they took him out of there because no child would pay because his parents, and he has been in foster homes, although it doesn't last long since the requirements for his adoption were more strict than most -which in the long run the Council would realize was COUNTERPRODUCTIVE for his character-. That is what Darcy detects and why the high spheres are somewhat "permissive" with him.

His mother died giving birth, it was already miraculous that she lived so long and ‘bout his father I think I'm going to kill him too, maybe. The father I assure you would be love him (he called Riven to himself Daru, his gift) thought was not his initial idea, the mother always saw him as an experiment (she was a witch who followed the Ancenstresses). Ohm, also in his blood there are dark elves and giants.

Riven surname is actually the name of the galaxy where he was born or a derivation of it, as is common for orphans. So the boy knows NOTHING about the above.

Timmy and Riven are the only specialists who have passed the full course at Fonterossa, without skips. In the end they bond about it. Timmy gives him a recommendation to work as a part-time mechanic at Magix (good boy face, he knows how to use it)

Timmy

Timeus “tshhhh, it’s Timmy.... i’m not my grandfather” fulfills the physique requisits as much as any other specialist, but it is true that his physique and abilities, adapted to the distance, give him a more "feline" air.

He is also the one who wakes up at night and moves silently, scaringthe rest of the squad if they wake up unexpectedly.

His glasses are for both sight and Aura Vision. His parents are rich enough to pay for an operation, but since he would have to wear glasses for his ability anyway, why? Practical guy.

And the glasses make people look down on him, something that when his self-esteem is high and he’s being rational and cunning he knows it’s wonderful, although many others times may hurt. He is mostly leprechaum with something human.

Nex

Nex is still a Paladin born in Lymphea and with blood of literally ALL races. He adapts well to any planet, although not its people at first. His race mix makes his face “charismatic”, like always draw attention even if people don’t know very well why they are draw.

His ability is Delay Sleep. It allows him to hold over his need to sleep for days without going crazy or losing physical capacity or needing many days to recover (he can stay awake for 5 or more days, sleep 8-10 hours and go back to being his usual self). Sometimes he does not control this well and has plenty of energy in need of drop but he is the one who has the most control of his ability.

One of his parents spent time in Rocalucce Fortress as a "guest" so at times he feels like he has something to prove.

Roy

Coming from Andros, most of the population are merpeople with a few elves and humans. which avoids the 100% aquatic population. Roy, unlike Aisha is mostly human-elf with a bit of merpeople in a grandgrandgrand level. One of his parents comes from one of the colonies on the moons of Andros and he was born there although they moved almost immediately.

Roy’s paladin ability being the canon “Triton Aura” used to breathe underwater. That and learning to swim and drive all kinds of water vehicles was what made him feel "adapted" to Andros. But he always try to be useful.

He only became a Paladin at the beginning of season 6, and it was visiting him that the season began. He’s bi but he thinks of himself as straight.

Nabu

I plead guilty to liking Nabu even though I shipped Aisha with Flora and Nex. So I have a hard time thinking about him. Except, EVERY time I try to think of something. EVERY TIME. Rapunzel. So, he will never cut his hair.

But with an island instead of a tower and a babysitter (male and wizard) more dumbledoor (not, actually more like Newt Scamander mentor like).

Sometimes he misses out on some "social customs/things/normalcies" whatever is called due to his little dealing with people. He may seem naive or that don't understand sarcasm. He understands and learns quickly, but people were very respectful to him and there are things he is not used to. 1/2 merpeople 1/4 half elf 1/4 human as both of his parents are half merpeople.

He likes to swim as much as any merpeople, but they didn't let him do it much because they were afraid he would go away or lost, so he usually went off "to the heights", going up to the rooftops and things like that.

Helia

Helia is trans but keeps his first name as chosen name which I don’t understand. Also he has formally tried study practically everything he wanted. Specialist, Paladin, Wizard (of Threads). Painter.

He can't make up his mind, his family hurries him just to STOP making them dizzy and spend a few years with everything -and actually end a single “major” choice- he wants to experience, that he has a very long life and can dedicate a few decades to Everything and they can support them. Well, more or less, but he was vip pass to all these options because family connections.

Long story about Sky, Brandon and Dia.

Sky, Brandon and Diaspro's first meeting was a show. Has it all. Costumes, lies. Confusion. Kidnapping. And that is why Diaspro insists on the wedding (I would like to mention that although I don’t know her romantic orientation yet surely bi or lesbian, here, Dia is asexual. And Sky is non-binary but his parents do not approve so go for he/him to avoid problem with them. And here our story begins)

A bit of background. Brandon actually hails from Isis, the son of the military and was chosen by the whimsical chibi!Diaspro as a playmate and future personal guard (because then she believed that touching children gave "lice" and her character and age did not have the 18like wall of royal education, then in a random encounter he called her among many things what Dia's mind translated in a strange way "uncracked geode", which is a double-edged compliment in Isis that many would not accept from strangers but she liked it). Rarely they would end up becoming friends in the end. When the series begins, Brandon and Diaspro keep up with calls, which will prevent Dia's reaction with Bloom on the one hand.

On a visit (officially only from the kings of Erakyon to to the kings of Isis) for the children to get to know each other, somehow, they all ended up happily dressing up, with Sky and Dia looking like two pretty princesses and Brandon assessing whether his dress would be green or yellow because Diaspro insisted that she and Sky had already taken the blue and red and so it would be more "thematic".

Here began the first of many attacks on Sky's head, because before it had begun to be rumored (true) that Erendor had fertility problems (btw his race dwarf-high elf and Samara is leprechaum-high elf, Sky gots mostly high elf part). When they came in and saw two girls and a boy, Brandon, not the highest IQ, but one of the wisest of his team and definitely the best fighter, played along so he ended up pretending to be Sky (also helps that his hair colors looks like Erendor) Everything worked out well in the end, although Brandon ended up as Sky's squire (better for him, worse for Diaspro), and Diaspro made Sky promise that he owed her a big favor. Anyway they grew up over the years in friendship and they both knew they were not of each other's true love interest, but, they could put up with each other (because that's what royalty does).

Sky and Diaspro have a sonorous (affectionate) war over Sky's hair to annoy/exasperate Brandon. Diaspro always complains that he doesn't grow it and it would look great then. Sky says that he is fine as with his hair at it is (it's actually Erendor's thing). The soft part of Diaspro that she doesn't usually show off has taught Sky many ways to style his hair and subtly put on makeup to look more feminine if he wants to.

How I am amused by that image from wikipedia and that Diaspro entered Sky's guard so quickly. Another headcanon is that Diaspro would sometimes change her appearance a bit and go into Sky's guard to be with Brandon to annoy him and Sky, when Brandon has to talk about her without giving details, she is simply "his sister Charbonne" (she hates that alias). They were discovered when she was 15 years old but she had already trained and the royal families considered it a sign to formalize the engagement since “they search each other” (people only sees what they wants).

The Diaspro family is not good, first Brandon was a shield (emotional) because as a child they were not “that” bad and then Sky joined him (physically and politically), handling things with Bloom so like that was not a good idea when the floor was full of cracked bottles.

... omg i’m sorry you three i’m sorry what I did to you

Also, Brandon's ability as a green user is very interesting and helps with this a lot. I temporally call it “Keypoint Warning” and I like it a lot, it's like a "tic" that tells him "be careful, what you say, what you do now, even the smallest thing could change everything for youself (for better or for worse)”. He actually has a scar on his forehead (not a lightning bolt) that his hairstyle hides after “that” day but a little less fine on the words and the kidnappers might have broken his mouth so... His parents have been cured (spoiler: no) of heart attack since then.