#my two sons who have every decease

[cierv-o-robot-o]

Couldn’t decide which version I liked more

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

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XVII. The Birth (Warning!Childbirth)

Suspicio semel excitatur, omnia pascit.

Once suspicion is aroused, everything feeds it.

They were laughing, muttering, glancing, and smiling in a way that could be seen as arrogant, sinister, cruel, or otherwise unkind. However, you find yourself unable to respond to their actions due to an overwhelming sensation of pain in your chest. Since you fell in love with Marcus, you'd felt the same pain in that spot many times for different reasons. When he fought in the Colosseum, when he was wounded, when you were separated, when he spoke of his past, when he went off to war, even every time he left home. But none of it was like the pain you felt now. It was a strange, intense, rage-inducing, all-consuming, aggressive, dangerous feeling.

The gentle touch of your aunt on your shoulder, Decima's concerned expression, the hesitant looks of the other women who respected you – these intense feelings absorbed all of that. As you felt the anger and suspicion spreading throughout your body, you couldn't stop the tears from flowing because of the situation you were in, and you hated it.

"I won't allow you to upset my niece, our princess, in my house! Don't you have any decency?"

Everyone except Julia averted their gaze. "You seem to have forgotten that you're talking to an empress. It was the princess herself who asked the question, Antonia."

Antonia's gaze was sharp. It was clear that there was an unresolved conflict between her and Julia, and you were certain it had something to do with your deceased mother. "It was you who made the insinuation, Empress Domna and everyone here knows it. To gain respect, you must first give it.”

“You're going too far.”

"Hah! Look who's talking! Weren't you the one who first accused your own husband, the emperor, and then a Roman general, of being unfaithful? That seems a bit impudent, doesn't it?"

You took a deep breath and stood up with your aunt's help, this was not the time to cry, this was the time to put your foot down and Julia had already crossed the line and exhausted your patience with her.

"Lady Domna, you should be focusing on your son's future, not my private matters and my husband's. It's a shame you've made a habit of it, but maybe you're influenced by this unfaithful woman at your side," you said, looking at her. You knew who she was. She'd told you sarcastically about Marcus' former wife months ago, but you never confronted her because you didn't care. But now it was time. Looking at her, you continued, everyone, including the slaves, had stopped murmuring and were focused on you two.

"Don't think I'm not aware of what's going on. I may seem patient, but I'm not stupid."

The woman was about to say something in protest, but Julia raised her hand to stop her. You weren't planning to deal with her anyway, you didn't even look at her face even once. Julia raised an eyebrow. "You're speaking to an empress, so watch your tone."

"I was here before you. I was born a princess! I earned my status by birthright, without having to marry an emperor like you."

You could feel your aunt smiling proudly beside you. The women began to murmur quietly. Julia was caught off guard by your harsh words, and the woman next to her shot you a look, but you didn't falter. Her silence emboldened you. You approached her and leaned into her ear. "I know my husband will be furious when I tell him about your slanderous words. You'd clearly forgotten what happened the last time you pissed him off."

"You're almost proud to say that," she said, narrowing her eyes, but you could tell she was tensing up.

"You're the last person to lecture me on pride. How quickly you forgot that thing you asked me for when you came to my villa. That's exactly what a woman without pride would do."

“Are you insulting me now?”

“No, I'm just describing you.” You said sarcastically.

Her eyes flashed with anger. “You little!”

"That's enough!" Your aunt intervened. "Please leave my house, you are no longer welcome here." She said to Julia and her companions. Then she looked at everyone. "Thank you for coming, ladies, but the banquet is over now."

Julia looked at you with a bit of a glare and turned away, and the other women with her followed her, without saying goodbye or showing any respect. You took a deep breath and put your hands on your belly. You could feel the baby moving inside you.

"Are you well, my lady?" Decima asked as she stepped towards you.

"They say if you cut the grass, snakes will appear." Your aunt mumbled. "You did well putting her in her place, Aurelia."

You gave her a half-smile in return. The other women greeted you one by one before leaving the courtyard.

"I think it's an ugly rumor. Everyone in Rome knows your husband Acacius would never do such a thing. If you don't feel well, it'll affect the baby, so it's probably best not to worry about it."

You trusted Marcus, of course, but suspicion had already crept into your mind.

"Thank you, Aunt Antonia. I'd like to take my leave now."

"Of course, my dear. You should go home and get some rest." She gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. "I hope I'm not mistaken, but I believe you said the baby is due next week?"

You nodded.

"I hope everything will be fine."

"Aurelia, I'm really sorry about all this. Thank you for coming," Paulina said, giving you a hug. "Please don't concern yourself with what those women say. You need to think about your child.’

"So do you," you said, looking at her belly. "I'll be fine," you promised with a smile. Then took Decima's arm. "Have a good night."

"Good night, cousin," Paulina called out to you.

Your aunt accompanied you to the carriage, and the midwife came along too. "Aurelia, the things they said..." Antonia said in a low tone. "Even if it's true, just remember that you're still his wife, and that won't change. I'm sure it won't affect a love like yours. So you need to make sure it won't damage your marriage. That's what Julia wants, after all. Once she finds out you've had a son, she'll be even more hostile towards you. But as your aunt, I will always be there for you. I'll make sure she doesn't hurt you or your child. I won't let that snake bite me twice." She kissed your cheek and stroked your belly with her hand. "Now go home and rest. Try to keep your mind calm until the birth."

You smiled at her. "Thank you. I appreciate it.”

By the time the carriage arrived at the villa, it was already getting dark. You were lost in thought the whole way through, mulling over the past week. Over the past few days, Marcus left the villa in a bit of a rush in the afternoon and came back late. He never wore his armour during that time. Was there any chance he was really going there? Could the mere thought of a possibility hurt someone so much? But it did.

With Decima and the midwife's help, you carefully got out of the carriage. "Please don't mention what's happened back there to anyone, especially not the General. Is that clear?" You looked at the midwife in particular who replied with a nod.

When you stepped into the courtyard, Tullia greeted you.

"Thank Gods you're back safe and sound, my lady."

"Is my husband here?" you asked, looking up at your chambers.

"No, my lady. General Acacius has not yet returned." She and Decima exchanged glances. She was worried and surprised by your behavior.

"I will rest in my room," you said, heading for the stairs.

Decima came to you and took your arm. After all, it wasn't as easy for you to climb the stairs as before. As you approached the door, you looked at her. "I'd like to be alone, please."

She gave a little smile and nod, but her eyes showed her worry. You closed the door and took a moment to survey the room. It was as if your mood had even changed the atmosphere of the room. You touched the tulle around the bed and, as you ran your fingers through the fabric, everything you heard echoed in your head. You removed your necklace, crown, hairpins, bracelets, and earrings, put them all in a wooden box, and placed them in the closet. Once you'd removed the palla and stola, you went over to the bed.

You noticed the burgundy tunic that Marcus had taken off before leaving was on the bed. You sat down and held the tunic in your hands, taking a deep breath to enjoy his scent. Since he got back from the war, you only had physical intimacy once in balneum, and you missed him more than ever. It was tough, but you managed somehow. That is, until tonight. While you missed him on his own in the room, he is with someone else now...

'No, no, no, Aurelia. That's not possible.' You thought to yourself, 'I don't believe he'd do that.'

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. You were pretty sure they'd be back to give you a hard time later on. Decima looked over from the doorway with a tray in hand.

"I've made you some chamomile tea." She said with a smile. "Can I come in?"

You smiled back and put the tunic back on the bed. "Yes, please." You stood up and sat down on the bed with her help. She placed a pillow behind your back and handed you the cup with tea in it then sat beside you. "I hope you're not still dwelling on what they said,"

You shook your head, "I am not," you lied.

Decima squinted at you, she knew you well. "Come on now, Aurelia. This is the General we're talking about. His love for you is nothing like I've ever seen. Everyone else might be tempted to cheat, but he is not one of them."

You took a sip of your tea. "But I need to know where he goes in the evenings."

"Do you want me to ask Octavius?”

"No, not him. He can't keep secrets from Acacius." You took another sip. You and Decima then looked at each other and said the same name at the same time. "Cato."

You both laughed.

"I'll speak to him tomorrow," you said, handing her the tea. "I've had enough to drink for now. Thank you, my dear."

She took the cup and helped you lie down on the bed.

“Decima."

She looked at you before leaving the room.

"I'm so glad I have you in my life," you said. "Your friendship is really important to me."

"I value yours just as much, my lady. Get some rest now." She said and then closed the door.

It was already tough enough to get some sleep at night with a little warrior on the way. And on top of all that, you were plagued by unnecessary worries. You wanted to roll over, but even that was difficult now. After a while, you heard voices coming from the courtyard. You closed your eyes when you heard footsteps climbing the stairs. Why did I do this now? You thought to yourself. You couldn't manage to roll over, so you pretended to be sleeping. The door closed and footsteps approached. You felt Marcus's lips on the top of your head and opened your eyes.

"Forgive me, did I wake you up?"

You turned your head and looked at him, into his brown eyes. Was this the man who was unfaithful to his wife? It was impossible. You gave him a smile. "I can't sleep without you."

His smirked. "I'll be right back." He said and removed his shawl first, then his sandals. He ran his fingers through his hair, adjusting, and sat on the bed, crawling in next to you. He then gave you a kiss on the temple, then on the nose, and then on the lips. "I've missed you. Both of you." He put his hand on your belly and smiled when he felt a kick.

"We've missed you too. I suppose it's because you're always coming in late at night these days." You tried to keep your tone calm. His expression changed for a moment as if he was thinking about what to say, which made you a little confused.

"If I might ask for a little more patience, my lady? I'll be going at night less often very soon, I promise."

This left you feeling even more confused. Did he mean after the birth?

"How was the banquet? Did you have a good time?”

Oh, right. I had a great time, indeed!

"It would have been better if Julia hadn't been there."

Marcus frowned. "Or did she say something to upset you?"

You looked him in the eye, but he wasn't asking questions or seeming to expect anything. He seemed genuinely concerned and sincere. "No, she's her usual self, never mind her. Besides, she is the one who got upset. I might have said some harsh things to her." You grinned.

He raised his eyebrows. "You? My Aurelia? Did you really do it?"

"Yes, sir. I did.”

He laughed. "You did well. I love my princess even more when she is tough," he said with a grin, putting his hand under your chin and kissing your lips.

Gods, his mouth tasted so good, and your tongue felt truly blessed. You couldn't help but wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Marcus placed his hands on either side of you. He was almost starting to undress you, but he managed to stop and pull back. He broke the kiss, gently pushing your hands away. In response, you gave a little frown and pursed your lips, as you always did. He smiled and placed his hand on the back of your neck, guiding your head towards his chest.

'We should get some sleep now, my love." He was breathing heavily. Trying to calm himself down, stroking your hair with one hand while the other was just above your belly. He spoke to the baby for a while, feeling the kicks, and then he fell asleep. You watched him in his sleep, admiring his perfect nose, chin, eyebrows, and his curly grey hair. You had to get rid of this suspicion that was spreading like poison inside you. You fell asleep too, thinking about how to do it. You woke up more than twice over the rest of the night because your growing uterus was putting pressure on your bladder, leaving less room for urine and more frequent urges to pee. Fortunately, you had a devoted husband who was kind enough to wait for you at the door of the latrine while you peed. It must be a sin to slander this wonderful man.

When you opened your eyes in the morning and realised Marcus wasn't in bed, you had the urge to look up. However, you let out a slight groan when you felt a rather strong kick in your stomach.

"Good morning to you too, little one." You mumbled sleepily.

"Another kick?" Marcus asked. He was at his desk, looking like he was busy with some papers.

"Yes. It seems our child is eager to come out. Well, I'm really looking forward to it." You said with a sigh.

"Are you certain? I'm just afraid we won't be able to hold him once he starts walking. He's going to tire us out."

You giggled. "I agree." You said you had a hard time trying to sit up in bed. Marcus got up from his desk and came over to help you. "And I am certain."

“Hm?"

You grabbed his hand and pulled him closer. "You asked me if I was certain. So, yes I am. I would like to give birth to our child as soon as possible so that I can be able to touch you in the way that I desire."

He swallowed, his heart starting to race. He then lowered his head and whispered into your ear. "I must say, my lady, you try my patience too much. Be sure my revenge will be great.’

‘'I am eagerly awaiting." You giggled.

"You are quite mischievous." He chuckled and kissed you on the cheek.

After breakfast, you accompanied Marcus to the stables to visit Unio and Dromos. Once you had finished feeding them, Marcus proposed that he teach you how to groom. First, he made sure Unio stayed still then he handed you the brush. Unio sniffed the brush, her hot breath made you giggle.

"I think she wants to eat this. I believe you've already eaten quite a lot, have you not?"

Marcus laughed. "Start with her withers, right up here," he guided your arm to the top of her.

"I haven't seen Mau since we returned," you murmured as you brushed Unio's mane. Marcus put his hand on yours, and the other hand on your waist. Unio let out a soft whinny, it seemed that your movements were helping to relax her.

"I didn't see her either."

"I asked everyone but no one saw her," you said, pursing your lips. You missed her as much as everyone and everything else. She was one of the things that reminded you of your days in Egypt, after all. Marcus noticed your sad expression.

"It's possible she went elsewhere when the villa was abandoned. I think she'll be back."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes, I do." He touched your cheek. "Listen, I really don't want to see you upset about it. You've been feeling a bit worried about everything lately, which is a concern for me.”

Well, he was right, but there was nothing you could do. "I have to admit that I'm feeling a little nervous as the big day approaches, but it's been worse since you went off to war. Those days were pretty tough for me." He could hear worry in your voice. "I'm scared, Marcus. I'm scared that at if something might happen and we'll be separated again."

He put his arm around you. "We don't know what the future holds, but I'll do what I have to do. If I have to fight, I will." You bowed your head he put his hand under your chin, lifting your face up. "To fulfill our dreams. For our child." His gaze fell to your stomach. "Or should I say, for our children, dozens of them," he said with a grin.

You giggled at him and then nodded. "We'll have a bright future, Marcus. You'll be winning victories, and I'll be raising our children."

"My beautiful Aurelia," he cupped your face gently. "As the Gods are my witnesses, to have won you is my greatest, most glorious victory."

You smiled and he kissed your lips passionately, lovingly. You put your arms around his neck and he put his around your waist, but your belly prevented him.

"It looks like I'll have to wait a little longer to wrap you in my arms the way I did before." He said with a laugh. You place your hands on your waist. "I suppose I'll have to wait until I get my waist back, too."

He laughed again, and you joined in. Unio also let out a whine, as if they wanted to share in your joy.

In the evening, Marcus wore his white tunic and red shawl just as he did on other evenings and left the villa. You found yourself grappling with the same feelings of unease as you had the day before. You needed to put an end to it, and tonight was the night. That's why you sent one of the slaves and asked Cato to come to the villa. Norell spotted you and Decima on your way to him, but you made an excuse and avoided her. You were sure she'd tell Tullia everything, which would make things more complicated. Cato was in the stables and greeted you when he saw you.

"My lady, may I ask why you sent for me? Are you well?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I hope no one realized you coming here."

"No, they didn't. The training was over anyway. It's usually quiet in the evenings."

"Not for your general, apparently," you said, squinting. "Cato, I'm going to ask you a question and I need you to be honest with me, alright?”

He opened his eyes as wide as he could. "How could I possibly deceive you, my lady? Or  maybe I have made a mistake?"

"No, this has nothing to do with you. It's about the General, my husband."

Cato looked at Decima and then back at you, surprised.

"I'm all ears."

"General Acacius... he... at night…" You took a deep breath to continue. "I want to know where he spends the whole night.'"

He scratched his head, looking thoroughly confused. ‘'You mean, somewhere other than the barracks? He does meet with the legates from time to time. And then..." he said, "And…" You got the feeling he wasn't being entirely truthful when he suddenly averted his eyes.

"And what else?"

He took a deep breath.

"Tell me," you demanded.

"He doesn't usually tell me where he's going, but over the last few days, he's been leaving in the middle of the night with Sir Octavius in an incognito outfit. And the other night I heard them talking..." He shook his head. "Maybe I misheard."

"You said with Octavius?" Decima enquired.

Now she looked as concerned as you were.

"Tell us what you heard.”

He took a moment to swallow. "Once I'd helped him take off his armour and closed the door on my way out, Sir Octavius asked if they were heading somewhere. The general said to him that they need to get going..." Cato bowed his head. Was he embarrassed?

Your heart started to beat faster. "And where is that place they're heading to?"

"Tell us quickly, Cato." Decima was annoyed.

Cato answered without looking up. "Um... Whore house. Forgive me, but they said they were going there."

Hearing those words again made your body tremble with anger.

There was silence for a short time. It was only when Decima touched your cheek that you realised you were crying.

"Are you alright?"

You looked at her, unable to speak.

"Forgive me. It's a stupid question, isn't it?"

You wiped your tears. "He..." Your voice was a little shaky. "And where are he and Octavius now?"

Cato lifted his head, but he still couldn't meet your gaze. "They left just before I did, my lady, but I really don't know where they went this time.”

"Go and let them know I need the carriage to be ready."

They looked at you with their eyes wide open.

"My lady, but..."

"Or did you not hear what I said?"

Cato swallowed. "I'll get it ready, my lady."

"One more thing. I want you to keep this between us. This conversation never happened. Do you understand?"

He nodded and strode purposefully towards the courtyard to find the coachman. "What are you thinking?" Decima asked.

"We're going there. I need to see for myself."

"You are mad. How are you going to go there like this?" she asked, looking at your big belly. "What if something happens?  They might not even be there..."

"Decima. I have to get rid of this suspicion that torments me. You understand me, don't you?

She let out a sigh. "I understand you perfectly. Alright, I'm coming with you to make sure Octavius isn't betraying me."

"We need to change our outfits though. If I come in, the others might get suspicious, so you go and bring cloaks for both of us."

"I hope we're not doing anything wrong, my lady."

You crossed your arms. "We'll see soon who's doing the wrong thing."

"Still, I really hope it's a misunderstanding." She said with a sad tone.

"I do hope so, dear.”

At your own request, Coachman took you to a location that was a considerable distance from the whore house. You told him to wait for your return and proceeded to head towards the street.  You were waiting at the corner, which afforded you a clear view of the entrance.

"This is rather absurd, don't you think?" Decima whinnied.

"There's no need to be concerned. We'll simply observe from a distance."

This street, which was quite lively at this time of night, was much the same tonight. The sounds of people laughing and walking by could be heard echoing throughout the street. Given the lack of light, it was unlikely that you would attract attention, although it was possible that the guards at the door might notice you.

"I'm sorry," you murmured as you gazed at the gate, hoping against hope that you would not see the face you expected to see, every time someone new came in or out. "I can imagine it must be hard for you to come here again."

Decima shook her head. "What happened in the past is not something that affects me any more. I suppose that everything changed for me after I met Octavius.

"Decima," you smiled at her, but your expression changed as you remembered why you were there.

"Ah, there they are." She said, pointing forward.

You looked over and saw Marcus and Octavius, wearing their black cloaks, coming out. You turned on your heel and leaned against the wall, not because you wanted to hide but because you were pretty shaken. Decima kept her eyes on them.

"I can't believe it, Decima. They were right. How could he do this to me? Am I not attractive anymore? Am I ugly? Does he no longer love me?"

"Aurelia-"

"Couldn't he have waited a little longer? I just don't understand why he did this to me. What am I going to do now?"

"Aurelia-"

"No, don't say anything. There's nothing more to say-"

"Aurelia, shut up for a minute, please." She shushed you.

You looked at her in surprise.

"Forgive me, but you'd better take a look at this.'‘

"I've seen enough." You said, shrugging your shoulders.

"Actually, you haven't. Please, take a look."

You did as she said and took another look, and you were just as surprised as before. Right next to them was a blond-haired man wearing a cloak, just like them.

“Geta!?”

Decima covered your mouth and pulled you behind the wall. "Shhh. You'll get us caught."

You kept your voice low. "But I don't understand. Geta is here too? I am greatly disappointed to find that all the men in my life are so unreliable."

"Gods! Aurelia, try to stay calm for a minute." Her voice was almost pleading. "I don't think the situation is as it seems."

"How do you mean?"

"That's Felix and Aris over there. And those are the Praetorians with Emperor Geta."

You peeked and saw that she was right.

"I think it's like a secret mission or something." She looked at you nervously. "We came here for nothing."

You bit your lower lip. "So.. We've got it all wrong."

Suddenly, they all looked in your direction, and you felt your heart racing as you stepped back behind the wall. "Decima, we have to get out of here now."

"Indeed."

You had just stepped into the street when a familiar voice called out from behind you making you freeze.

"You two! Stop right there!" Octavius’ voice was sharp.

Decima looked at you with concern from under the hood, but you took her arm and guided her forward. Aris and Felix stepped in front of you. Someone drew their sword, and the sound of it ringing out echoed through the street. It was Marcus. He tilted his head to look at you, reached out, and pushed back your hood, a playful look on his face as he did so. He'd already figured out who you were.

The others looked at you in surprise and bowed their heads.

"My lady, no matter how much you try to hide your pretty face, your belly gives you away." 

You averted your eyes, and he sheathed his sword.

"I really wonder what you are doing here."

You looked at Decima and saw that Octavius had come to her side. You then looked back at Marcus with a hesitant look. He was waiting for your answer, raising his eyebrows.

"I have the same question for you, General." You said stubbornly.

Marcus ordered the others to go to Geta's side, then turned to you again.

"You never cease to surprise me, Aurelia. How could you come here like this?"

"I had to," you snapped.

"Did someone mention they saw me here? And instead of trusting me, you came here to check on me?"

"Those women are shameless. They were being pretty mean, laughing and joking. I didn't want to believe it, but you were being so mysterious. I thought maybe you wanted to come here because you've stopped touching me. I thought... maybe... you don't love me anymore."

Suddenly he grabbed your shoulders, his expression was stern. "You silly woman." He gave your cheek a little nudge with his nose, looking at you quite tenderly now. "All those wretch women would drown in a single drop of my love for you. Don't ever believe them." He took your face in his hands. "Don't you know that my days and nights all belong to you? My moon, my sun, my spring... Don't you know how much I love you?" He bent down and kissed your temple, his beard tickling a little, making you smile.

"Marcus, I love you too. You are the breath I take, without you I am incomplete, wounded. But suspicion has driven me mad. Forgive me.”

He smiled and then grabbed your arm. "We'll talk about this when we return home. Now I have to complete my mission."

"What mission is that?"

"I came here because your brother asked me to keep an eye on his cousin. He has been meeting secretly with members of the Senate. It's a bit of a long story."

"Sister?" Geta laughed. "Acacius, it's pretty amazing you could recognise your wife from that distance. Remarkable!" He gave a little grin and turned up his thumb like when he does at the Colosseum, which you found a bit annoying.

"So my husband had to come here because of you?" You asked, frowning.

"It was meant to be a secret meeting, so he hid from you. I mean, I know how stubborn you are, but I didn't expect you to do this."

"Secret?" You laughed hysterically. "You caught by Horatia's husband."

Marcus crossed his arms squinting at Geta. "See? I warned you, but you were insistent."

"I couldn't trust anyone else but you, Acacius. Besides, It only made it easier for them to think you were unfaithful."

"How could you say that so easily? He would never do such a thing, I trust him, but you made him look like he did!" You barked.

Marcus smirked.

"Hah but yet you are here, sister."

"Your mother made me!" You took a step towards him, Marcus grabbed your hand. "That shameless woman accused my husband!" Suddenly warm water ran down your legs, you looked down with wide eyes and saw your legs all soaked including your sandals.

You froze.

"Gods!" Decima cried out.

It took the men around you a bit longer to figure out what had happened.

"Sister, did you just… pee on yourself?"

You grabbed his collar angrily. "The baby's coming!" You yelled.

Then they all froze.

A strong contraction in your womb made you groan in pain. Marcus was unsure of what to do for a moment, but when he heard you moan, he came round and wrapped his arms around you.

"Aurelia! My love, are you alright?"

You shook your head and you grabbed his collar this time. "Marcus, I can't give birth here. Please take me home now, please!"

He nodded, "You're right," he said before taking you in his arms in a hurry.

Another contraction hit you. "Aah! Marcus, please!" You begged.

"What if she gives birth before you get to the villa?" Geta asked, sounding anxious. "Maybe here," he said, glancing behind him.

"I won't give birth to my child in a whore house!" You yelled at the top of your lungs. The whole street was looking at you, but you ignored them.

"Sir, we need the midwife," Decima said.

"I'll get there before you," said Octavius.

You were having lower back pain along with contractions making you writhe.

"Acacius! Palatine Hill is closer to here than the villa. You would not want her to give birth on the street, are you?"

You moaned loudly in pain. Marcus frowned, thinking.

You clenched your jaw and tried to speak. "No, Marcus, I want to go home, please. Ow!"

"There's no time for a discussion, Aurelia! Octavius, go to the villa and speak with the midwife. Then bring her to Palatine Hill."

"Yes, sir!" He said and rushed towards his horse.

"Damn Palatine Hill!" You shouted.

Marcus grinned nervously, whispering into your ear. "Just hold on, love."

"The carriage is just over there," Decima said, pointing ahead.

Marcus ran over and helped you into the carriage, carrying you in his arms. You held his other hand tightly the whole way, and he held yours back just as tight. He was kissing your fingertips one by one, trying to soothe you as you groaned in pain.

"Breathe in, my love, take deep breaths."

You did as he said, but when the carriage reached Palatine Hill, you started to feel a bit scared. Marcus hurried down from the carriage, holding you tightly. Decima got off right after you. The guards at the entrance to the grand gate looked at you with surprise.

"Open the gate now!" Marcus yelled at them.

"General. Princess," they greeted you as you continued to moan. Then they opened the gate for you to enter, looking worried for you.

Soon Geta arrived with the other guards. He immediately dismounted his horse and ran after Marcus. The guards struggled to keep up with him. Julia heard the voices from the other courtyard, heading there. She realised Geta first.

"Your Majesty! Where have you been? Elagabalus is nowhere to be seen and- What is this?”

Marcus ignored her and headed for the stairs to your chambers, your moans and screams accompanying him all the way.

Julia was left gaping after you two, while Geta followed at a brisk pace.

"Not now, mother! Aurelia is in labor! My nephew is coming!"

Julia ran to catch up with him. "But why is she giving birth here instead of her house?"

You could hear them talking as Marcus carried you upstairs with you in his arms, but you didn't care.

"If you're going to keep complaining, please stay here!"  Geta shouted at her which made Julia give up climbing the stairs. She smiled as she looked at the slaves hurrying upstairs. "Since your midwife isn't here, you might even die, Aurelia," she muttered to herself.

As soon as he got into the room, Marcus put you on the bed and put lots of pillows behind you.

"Marcus, please don't leave me."

He grabbed your hand again. "Never, my love, I'm here.”

Decima helped you take off your sandals while Marcus held your hand tightly.

Geta came over to you. "How are you holding up, sister?"

"The contractions aren't that frequent, but I can feel the baby's coming."

"Octavius will fetch her right away, just hang in there, please." Marcus kissed your hand.

You smiled at him. "Decima, you know what's needed. Make sure everything's ready for the midwife when she arrives."

Decima nodded and stepped towards the slaves. "Bring warm clean water, oil, a basin, and lots of clean clothes!"

"You heard her! Move! Quick, quick!" Geta gestured for them to leave the room.

Marcus stood up took off his black cloak and sat next to you on the bed and put his arm around. You rested your head on his chest. The contractions were becoming more frequent and painful, but Marcus holding his hand helped you to stay strong.

"It seems you two have somehow ended up here again," Geta said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

You gave a forced smile. "That may be true, but let's not forget this is all because of you."

He frowned. "Am I the one who told you to spy on your husband in the middle of the night with your big belly? Even a place like that…"

"Don't even think about mentioning that place!" You barked. Your voice was louder than you intended because of the pain.

Marcus pressed his lips to the top of your head, you could feel him smiling.

"However. My nephew wants to be born here so he can meet his uncle first. I like him already." His famous smug smile appeared all over his face.

After a few pretty intense contractions and the pain they caused, you were relieved to hear that the midwife had finally arrived at the palace. Marcus stood up when the midwife came in the room. 

The midwife greeted you both and asked permission to lift the hem of your tunic. Marcus made Geta out of the room and then himself. The Midwife examined you vaginally to see how your opening was and how close it was to your cervix. She knew you were a medicus, of course, so she asked.

"My lady. How far apart are the contractions?"

"Five minutes apart." You replied.

"A walk will do you good, my lady. I'll prepare what you need."

You nodded and got up with Decima's help. Marcus came in to talk to the midwife through the door.

"There was still time. But it looks like our child will be born early. Has something happened to him?" He kept his tone low and gave you a quick look.

"Keep your heart at ease, general. Your child is fine, thank the Gods. Something seems to have triggered the labour. I hope your child will be born in good health. I'll make sure Lady Auelia has everything she needs for labour, if I may."

"I hope so."

She nodded and headed for the stairs accompanied with the slaves.

"Don't worry, Acacius," Geta said, putting his hand on his shoulder. "You know how strong and stubborn she is. I'm sure everything will be fine."

They were looking at you, both concerned about you and excited for the baby. And you looked at them both and smiled, maybe for the last time before the birth.

After walking around the room with Marcus for a while, you started to feel too much pain making you unable to stand up.

"The contractions are a minute apart now," you told the midwife.

"Please sit on the bed, my lady." She glanced at the slaves. "Could you pour the water?" She washed her hands while Marcus helped you to get settled on the bed. The midwife then looked at the men in the room, her gaze timid. "General, labour has now begun. Rest assured, I'll do everything I can for our princess."

Marcus nodded, stroked your head, and kissed the top of it. "Be strong my love. I'll be right outside the door."

You would have liked him to stay with you, but you had never seen or heard of a man doing that. So you didn't ask him for it.

"You won't believe it, but I'll pray for you and my nephew, sister," Geta said with a smile. Then they left the room together.

You let out a scream as Marcus left the room and the contraction intensified. Your chest felt tight and you got a sharp pain from your tailbone to your lower back.

With the help of the slaves, the midwife rubbed olive oil on her hands and pressed them on your belly. The baby was running out of time, as your waters had broken hours ago. The pain was getting worse by the minute. Decima was wiping the sweat from your forehead and giving you soothing and encouragement. As your screams echoed throughout the Domus Severiana, Marcus realised he'd never felt so scared and helpless in his life. Octavius watched his friend anxiously as Marcus balled his hands into fists and paced back and forth. Geta was just as wound up as well. Your screams, which were getting louder and louder by the minute, were making them things worse for them. At last, Marcus could bear it no longer.

"That's enough," he hissed and stormed into the room. Geta was going to stop him but his expression made him give up.

Marcus closed the door behind him. When he turned round, he was taken aback to see the slaves soaking cloths in water and handing them to the midwife. They were in such a hurry that they didn't even notice he'd entered the room.

“My lady, push a little more,” the midwife said in a pleading voice.

"Marcus! It hurts! Please make it stop! Please!"

He wrapped his arm tightly around you. "I know, love. I know. I'm here. You can do it. You're the strongest woman I know.’"

Another push and another scream. "Something's wrong, isn't it?" You asked the midwife.

"The baby's not in the right position for labour." I feel a foot. I'll have to turn him. "Just hang in there and push when I tell you to."

When the next contraction hit, you screamed with the most horrible sound Marcus has ever heard. Then you leaned against him you cried out in horrible, broken sobs, your whole body trembling with the effort.

"You're doing so well," Marcus whispers into your sweaty hair, "So well, my love, just a little more."

Once the midwife had managed to turn the baby, you could feel her fingers inside you. Your uterine walls were now ready to push the baby out. You grabbed Marcus's hand and squeezed it, then started pushing with all your might. But it didn't work. The baby wasn't cooperating. Something was wrong, and everyone in the room knew it. But that wasn't the worst of it. You were running out of strength. You weren't sure how much longer you could hold on.

"Bring some more hot water," said the midwife. Decima wiped the sweat from your forehead, Marcus gathered up your sweat-soaked hair, pushed it behind your neck and kissed your forehead.

"Deep breaths. Come on, my love." You breathed in and out with him.

"Could you get our princess some water and honey?" The midwife asked one of the slaves.

The midwife smiled at you as Decima helped you drink water. "Your child is going to be very stubborn, my lady. He insists on not coming."

You and Marcus looked at each other and smiled. But the pain returned and took your breath away. You gripped Marcus' and Decima's hands tightly and took a deep breath. The midwife checked between your legs under the covers and her eyes lit up.

"My lady. Now, push with all your strength. I can see the head is crowning!"

For some reason – maybe because of the unbearable pain – you couldn't help but get annoyed at her cheerfulness and want to choke her. But Marcus's kiss gave you the courage you needed, and you took a deep breath and pushed with all your strength. Then you turned your face away from his and screamed again, hoarse from the effort of so many hours. You screamed and screamed, feeling his cheek against your racing pulse, his lips on your cheek. And finally, your screams were replaced by a high-pitched wail, and…

The midwife stood up with the most beautiful little thing in her arms. "A healthy boy." She said cheerfully, holding the baby out for you to see. Then she gave the baby a little shake which helped him to take his first breath, and he let out a loud cry that filled the room with joy. "You did it, my lady!"

Marcus kissed your temple. "You are marvelous, my love. I’m very proud of you."

“My lady! He’s beautiful!” Decima squeezed your hand.

You smiled at them, feeling exhausted. Your legs were shaking and aching, and you could barely feel your body, but at least now you were no longer in pain.

Geta came bursting into the room. "Has it been born? Has my nephew been born?" He was looking for the child who had just been crying. He stopped suddenly when he saw that the bed was wet with your blood. The midwife carefully cut the baby's cord and wrapped it in a cloth with Decima's help. She placed the baby in Marcus's arms, and he smiled at him. You started to cry as you watched them. You'd never seen anything so beautiful in your life and you were pretty sure you never would. Marcus came over to you with your son in his arms. You looked at the little one who had just caused you hours of pain and were amazed at how beautiful he was.

The beautiful infant who had given them all such a scare was big in size, adorably chubby, and had a sprinkle of brown hair covering his crown. He was extremely healthy-looking... and had a cry very similar to yours.

He was perfect…

“Gods!” Geta clasped his hands. “Look how tiny he is!”

You were weeping with joy, and relief, too, that the ordeal was finally over.

From the moment you laid eyes on his sweet little face, all your tiredness just melted away. You reached out, and Marcus gently placed the baby in your arms. This feeling... It was the most amazing thing you could ever imagine. When you first felt that magical moment of motherhood, everything around you disappeared for a moment. It was just you and your baby. Then you looked at Marcus, who was sitting next to you. The baby grabbed his father's finger and held on tight, and a big smile appeared on Marcus's face. Everything was just perfect, beyond amazing, and you felt like you were finally complete.

‘"Thank you," he whispered in your ear.

It took you a moment to look up and realise what he was saying, as you were so overwhelmed by the baby's beauty that you couldn't take your eyes off him.

"For what?" you asked, your voice clearly showing how tired you were.

"For giving me a family, one I could never have dreamed of."

You looked at him and smiled. He kissed you on the lips, but your kiss was interrupted by a throat-clearing sound coming from someone else.

"I want to hold my nephew too." Geta held out his arms.

You looked at Marcus, after receiving your approval, gently took the baby from you and carefully placed him in his uncle's arms.

"He looks just like you, Acacius! I'd like to congratulate you both. Thank you for making me an uncle."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Marcus said sincerely.

"Your Majesty, general, if you could excuse us, we need to clean up Lady Aurelia. And the baby needs to be breastfed."

Geta gave the baby to you and rubbed your head. "Rest now. You must be tired from all that screaming, you noisy."

You rolled your eyes at him and smiled. Marcus came over and kissed your cheek. "I will be back, my love."

You nodded and watched them leave the room. With the help of the midwife and Decima, you removed your bloodied tunic and they cleaned you up and quickly put you into a new one. The slaves were changing the bed sheets at the same time. Then you lay down on the bed to breastfeed the baby for the first time. He was already hungry and opened his little mouth wide, easily grasping the nipple. You were both very tired, so you fell asleep together. Decima gently laid the baby down next to you and covered you with the bedcover.

Marcus and Geta left the room together and went downstairs. When Octavius and the others saw them, they nodded.

"Congratulations, sir."

"Thank you, brother."

They embraced each other. The others also offered their congratulations to him and Geta.

Geta smiled at them and turned to Marcus. "I know it's not the right time, but... Elagabalus... Tomorrow, I will exile that bastard from Rome. I have a good reason to stand my ground against the Senate too. I owe you all one, Acacius. I shall reward you. Whatever you want is yours."

"Your Majesty, I already have everything I want. You simply need to be an emperor who keeps his word to his people."

"I'll make sure I do." He promised and then left his side.

As he walked toward his chambers, he noticed his mother sitting in the courtyard.

"So it's a boy." She gave the wine glass a little shake.

"I can hear the sadness in your voice, mother."

She stood up. "Apologies! I'm not as pleased as you are! Your throne is under threat. You must wed. Refuse no longer.”

"I'd love to be here listening to your nonsense, but I'm really tired." He said and turned away.

"You'll have to get rid of him sooner or later."

Geta stopped and turned around, looking annoyed.

"Are you out of your mind? I've already got enough on my plate, and now you're telling me to kill a little baby, my nephew? The real threat is Elagabulus, thanks to your false wisdom.”

She folded his arms. "We overcame Macrinus' dominance in the Senate thanks to him, but I was unaware of his true intentions. Fortunately for us, you caught him in the act."

"Thanks to Acacius, mother!" Geta snapped. "You may have forgotten or ignored his sacrifices and heroism, but I will be grateful to that man for the rest of my life. Also, I care deeply for Aurelia and my nephew." He looked at his mother with a cold, threatening gaze. "I am warning you. If you ever say anything mean or do anything to upset her, I will exile you from Rome like my brother Caracalla did. Don't think I can't."

Julia froze. She was taken aback by his reaction. She watched him walk towards the stairs, her anger evident in her trembling body. She then threw her cup forward in a gesture of frustration. As soon as it hit the marble floor, it made a loud clatter, wine spilling over the surface. Geta looked down from the balustrade. Before going into his room, he called one of the guards over. "Keep an eye on Lady Domna. I want to know every step she takes. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Highness.”

You opened your eyes in a state of panic, gasping for breath. When you realised the baby wasn't with you, it felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest.

"Marcus!"

You sat up in bed but groaned as a sharp pain shot through your womb.

Marcus turned towards you in shock, and you took a deep breath when you saw the baby in his arms.

Decima rushed in to check on you.

"Forgive me. I heard your voice..."

"It's alright," Marcus said. When she left the room, he approached you. "Are you all right, my love?"

"I had a nightmare," you said, your heart still pounding in your throat.

"They were taking him away from me, Marcus." Your eyes filled with tears.

In your dream, you saw someone taking the baby away. Your legs were a little shaky, still affected by the dream.

Marcus looked concerned and handed you the baby. "As long as I'm here, no one can take him or hurt him."

"I can't stay here. Not when Julia is around." You brought the baby to the breast, with your nipple aimed at the roof of his mouth. Marcus sat on the end of the bed next to you.

"My love, you've lost a lot of blood and you're battered. You need to recover your strength. Let's stay here tonight. We'll return tomorrow if you feel better.”

"Is it not still morning?"

"I suppose you didn't realise how the day went by because you slept in. The little one looks hungry too." He said with a grin. The sounds he made while sucking were so beautiful that Marcus couldn't help but sigh. "I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life." He stroked the baby's head gently with his hand.

"That's what you said about my beauty once." You teased.

He looked at you. "That's because he has some of his mother's beauty in him." He smirked. "Speaking of beauty." He stood up and walked over to the table. He took something out of the leather bag.

You were curious about what it was. The baby seemed to be full, so you pulled your nipple back and made your baby's back lie along your arm. Marcus sat back down on the bed and handed you something wrapped in a fancy cloth.

"I brought this for you from Aleppo. I had intended to give it to you earlier, but unfortunately, it fell and broke along with other items during the return journey by ship. I had it repaired and I thought it would be nice to give it to you after the birth."

"What is this?"

"Let me hold the child. You open it."

With great care, you placed the baby in his arms and opened your gift which was wrapped in a bluish cloth. It was a circular object, crafted from silver and featuring a flower-shaped relief. You turned it over and were somewhat taken aback to see your own reflection on its shiny surface.

"Much better than the bronze mirrors. I wanted you to see the beauty I see. Are you pleased?"

You looked at him. "Marcus, this is beautiful."

He smiled and carefully placed the baby next to you. Then he sat down next to you again and kissed you on the lips. "It pales in comparison to your beauty, my love." And he kissed you again, passionately, with love and a little longing. "You know, you're much more beautiful now. Your breasts have grown a lot." He swallowed hard. "They keep coming to mind, making me want you even more."

Your cheeks flushed. "Like you said before, we'll have to be patient a little longer, General." Your fingers ran along his collarbone.

"But I really want to return home tomorrow."

He nodded and kissed your hand. "As you wish, my lady."

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No Need To Ask

Chapter Twenty-Three - Without Him

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

2.1K words

Series Masterlist

Recap from a previous chapter:

Carlos's phone vibrated against his chest. He picked it up, reading the text. "What is it?" Y/N asked softly, gently. Carlos wasn't hiding the screen from her or anything, but the text was in Spanish and she couldn't yet read it.

"My mother," he answered as he replied to the message. She was okay, had been in contact with Carlos ever since she'd made it to Alonsos safehouse.

As much as the Sainz family and the Alonso family hated each other, they had an agreement in place. If anything happened to the Sainz, those who could get out were to get to Alonsos territory if they could. It worked both way, with the Sainz offering sanctuary for Alonso and his men if needs be.

Señora Sainz had made it to Alonsos territory. By the time she'd gotten there, the attackers had left Alonsos. It was in a state, everything broken, documents missing, just like Carlos's house.

Alonso hadn't escaped like the Sainz family had. He had a bookcase that he could hide behind. Once he was behind it, the bookcase looked bolted to the wall, unmovable. Nobody thought to look for Alonso in there.

When Señora Sainz arrived at the Alonso house, he took her and her daughters to his own safehouse.

While she was in the Verstappen Stronghold, Max was the only person Y/N spoke to. He was the only person who would speak back to her.

She'd heard the rumours growing up, that Max Verstappen was as ruthless and terrifying as his father. But she didn't see that. To her, Max was sweet and kind and definitely not terrifying.

He loved joking, loved making her laugh. Actually, he was the best company she could have asked for while she was waiting for her husband to return.

Max gave her the tour of the Verstappen stronghold. He showed her the library, the home cinema, Max's very own game room. That game room wasn't Y/N's sort of game room. There were screens and monitors on every wall, with every type of gaming console known to man. There was a cabinet full of board games, Monopoly, cluedo, battleships, and chess.

The two of them spent a lot of time in the games room, playing chess with him. Well, it was more like Y/N playing a game of chess alone while Max playing his racing games on his xbox and tried his best to talk to her at the same time.

It wasn't like last time, when Y/N was the newcomer in Carlos's house. She wasn't going to rot away in her room while she waited for her husband to return. Time would pass by quicker if she kept herself busy.

"So, you're pregnant?" Asked Max as he drove around the corner. His set up had a proper steering wheel with the foot pedals and everything.

Y/N looked up from her game of chess. "Did Carlos give it away?"

Nodding his head, Max concentrated on the game. But the bots he was playing against were all colliding into the back of him, causing him to retire from the race. "Actually, he said you guys are gonna name the baby after me."

She couldn't stop herself from laughing at him. "Somehow, I really doubt that, Max."

"Yeah, but think about," he said, turning in his gaming chair. "You could name it Maximus Sainz, which is probably the most bad ass name for a head of family, ever."

Y/N rolled her eyes. She and Max continued chatting casually in this fashion as he played his racing simulator and she played her game of chess. Day after day went like this, but she didn't get bored. Not while she was waiting for Carlos to return.

Max was her solace in this time.

***

When Carlos returned to Spain, he was incredibly scared for his own life, although he'd never admit it. He had a wife who he loved, a wife who loved him, and a baby on the way. It wasn't like when he was a kid and he could throw himself into the line of fire without a second thought. There were people who counted on him. People he wanted to be there for.

When he landed back in Spain, from what was hopefully his last ever commercial flight, he rented a car. His car was too recognisable now.

His driving was still smooth as he headed back to his house. Their house. The house they were going to raise their baby in.

As he drove, his phone buzzed. Carlos easily answered it as he continued towards the house, holding the phone up to his ear as he steered. "Hamilton," he said into the phone.

"Sainz. I am sorry to hear about your father," said Lewis. "I've heard from almost everybody but you that they have managed to recover. How are you doing?"

Carlos sucked in a breath. "They found us in the safehouse," he said. "I've had to send my wife away but I won't be saying where, if it's okay with you," he said and Lewis agreed. So, Carlos continued. "I am heading back to my house to rebuild," he said.

"Keep us informed," said Lewis.

Carlos hesitated before hanging up. He had just one question left for the head of all of the families. "Norris, is he okay?" He asked him.

"Yes," Lewis answered quickly. "He's tightened his security, just as all of us have."

Carlos hung up the phone. There was no goodbyes in the mafia family, they just stopped the call. Carlos pulled over to dial one more number.

"Y/N?" Said the person on the other side as soon as they picked up.

Carlos pulled back onto the road, driving towards the house. "No, Lando. It's her husband," he said flatly.

The noise Lando made was unrecognisable. "Where is Y/N? Is she okay?" He asked quickly, urgency in his voice. Clearly, he was panicked.

"Yes, Lando, she's fine. I've gotten her somewhere safe," Carlos answered. "But I need you to do me a favour and call Max," he said.

"He's right next to me."

For a moment, Carlos frowned. He'd just left Max in the Netherlands. What on earth did Lando mean? But then it clicked. He always seemed to forget about Lando's best friend Max. "No, the other Max," he said. "Verstappen. Give Max Verstappen a call," He said and put down the phone.

Carlos drove the rest of his way to the house in silence, just praying that Lando did what he asked.

He pulled up to the house, the gates shutting behind him. They'd have to go, he thought as he imagined a few more rows of wall and gates. It would all have to be completely fortified.

He abandoned his car and walked into the house. The doors were already being replaced by metal ones, ones that bolted shut and required a retinal scan to get in.

Carlos made his way up to his office. That was where all the controls would be. It had been cleaned up by his men since the last time he'd been there, his papers put back into order. There was a stack of receipts, the costs of fortifying the house.

He wanted guard dogs, too. They weren't his usual sort of dog, with Carlos preferring something small. But he'd get the biggest dog around if it meant keeping his wife and unborn child safe.

He checked his weapons, all of them still where he had left them. Aside from the few papers, the thieves hadn't stolen anything. It was so confusing, what they actually wanted from him. They hadn't stolen anything of value, just paperwork.

The thieves had only seemed to attack every other family once. But Carlos had been targeted twice. Why? What did they want with him?

He signed some papers, allowing construction to start.

***

"You!" Shouted Señora Sainz as she stared at Oscar. She grabbed a hold of Alonso's gun and pointed it straight at Oscars chest. "What do you think you're doing here!?"

Suddenly, Alonso grabbed a hold of the gun, taking it away from Señora Sainz. "Now, now," he said, placing it in one of the many desk drawers. "There is no need to resort to violence."

Señora Sainz grumbled and crossed her hands over her chest, glaring daggers at Oscar. "I'm sorry to barge in like this," he said, although his tone suggested anything but apology. "But I've got nowhere else to go. Y/N and Carlos have gone and I can't get back to Australia," he said.

"As Webber's boy, you're allowed sanctuary here," said Alonso as he stood up to shake Oscar's hand.

Oscar visibly deflated, like he was a balloon that had lost all of it's air. He suddenly realised just how exhausted and hungry and thirsty he was.

But, before he could ask Alonso for some food, Señora Sainz cut in. "What of my son and his wife?" She asked suddenly.

Unable to hold himself up anymore, Oscar sank into the nearest seat. "They got away," he said. "While we were being ambushed, Carlos managed to get her out. I'm not sure where they are now."

"What ambush?" Asked Alonso.

"Those thieves, the ones that broke into every house. They came for us in the safehouse."

Alonso frowned. He shouted something in Spanish and two of his men strode forward. Oscar recognised one of them to be Lance, on loan from Stroll in Canada. Lando grabbed a hold of Oscar and walked him through the house, promising him food.

Oscar allowed himself to be dragged along. If he didn't get something to eat soon, there was no way he was making it through the night.

***

Max's phone rang. He looked at the caller I.D, a smile gracing his features. He held a finger up to Y/N and ducked out of the home theatre, walking out to the hall to answer the call. "Little Lando Norris," he said, wearing a smile.

"You can't call me that now, Maximillian," Lando responded with a slight grumble. "I'm a head of family now."

Max rolled his eyes. It really was easy to forget that Lando now had as much power as his father did. It wasn't fair, wasn't fair that someone younger than him had to deal with such a burden. "What do you wan?" He asked, his voice still chipper as he leaned against the wall.

"Carlos said I should call you," Lando said, jumping straight to the point.

Max shrugged his shoulders. "Probably because I've got your sister here," he said.

Lando made another one of those unintelligible noises. "What?!" He cried. "What do you mean? Is Y/N in the Netherlands? Are you in Spain? Can I speak to her?"

Unsure just quite how to answer that many questions at once, Max walked back into the theatre and passed the phone to his house guest. She looked at her host in confusion as she took the phone and lifted it to her ear. "Hello?" She called, her voice unsure.

"Y/N?" Came the startled voice of her brother. "Is that actually you?"

"Holy shit, Lando!" She stood, walking into the hall as Max went back to watching the movie. "You're safe," she said. "You're safe, you're safe, you're safe!"

"I've been so worried about you! Why're you with Max? Where is Carlos?"

Their conversation was a jumble of voices, the both of them trying to talk over the top of each other. Y/N needed Lando to shut up and listen and he was rambling, clearly stressed. Y/N could picture him now, his tie knotted too tight, his curls a mess, sticking up in every direction from where he had been pulling them.

"I'm pregnant!" She blurted out when he wouldn't shut up.

That did the trick. Lando fell silent. "Lan, you're going to be an uncle."

"Well, that's great and all, but you haven't actually answered any of my questions," Lando answered.

It wasn't the answer Y/N had been hoping for, but at least he wasn't stressing anymore. So, she calmly and collectedly took him through the events that had ended with her in the Netherlands and Carlos back in Spain.

Lando had only interrupted her once, with a little cry of 'they ambushed you twice?!' but he quickly let her get back to her story.

"That's it," he said as soon as she had finished speaking. "I'm bringing you home right now."

Taglist (CLOSED): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @formulaal @graciewrote @biancathecool @evans-dejong @sparklyperfectionstranger @venusesworld @goldenharrysworld @cassie0sstuff @gracielukey @watermelonworries @celesteblack08 @shobaes @chonkybonky

[gallusrostromegalus]

Speaking of public health. What was the soul society reaction to the eradication of small pox like?

"You notice there's a lot less dead babies these days?" Iba asked in the middle of one morning's office work.

"Fewer dead babies." Komamura corrected without thinking. "Less is for things you measure by volume, fewer for things you count. We do not measure dead babies by volume."

"Oh. right." Iba nodded. "Yeah, that wouldn't be right."

After a moment, what his lieutenant actually said caught up with him. "Sorry- force of habit from living with a Librarian." Komamura shook his head and looked up from the monthly intake statistics analysis report, peering at Tetsuzaemon Iba through the narrow gap of his helmet. "What do you mean, fewer dead babies?"

"I dunno, it just occurred to me. When I started the academy in the 40's- right after the catastrophe- we did a student tour of the 7th division's recently deceased souls intake queue, remember?" Iba waved his hand leaning back in his chair, apparently uncertain of where he was going with this either, but articulating his thoughts.

"I believe so. I had just taken over from Captain Kotsubaki." Komamura nodded, patient. Chikane Iba was an excellent shinigami and had done a magnificent job running the third division, but she had a tendency to talk over and bulldoze her son, so Komamura had learned to be patient when the young man when he felt like he should share a thought.

"Yeah, yeah- Not gonna lie Boss, you scared the crap out of me back then." Tetsuzaemon laughed. "-But the thing that stuck out to me that day was just. The sheer number of Infants and little kids in the line. the guy giving us the tour- I think it was Old Ito, actually- He said that one in five babies in the living world didn't live to see their fifth birthday."

"An improvement even back then- it was one in three children when back when I started in the 1840s." Komamura nodded. "It's funny that I frightened you- Captain Aikawa apparently headhunted me for the 7th because Kaname told him about how the children at the library used to use me as playground equipment."

"Good grief." Iba blanched. "So, what, he threw you in the deep end with all the dead kids?"

"In Captain Aikawa's defense, I did volunteer to handle children's cases. As sad as a frightened infant is, it's infinitely preferable than dealing with the deceased who are angry."

Iba frowned, opened his mouth like he was about to object, reconsidered, closed it, considered further, rocking his head from side to side, and then nodded. "I- yeah, Yeah, that tracks."

"You were saying though?" Komamura laced his fingers in front of him, leaning forward to listen.

"Oh! Well- not as much these days but back then, every family had like seven and eight kids, you know? And I realized that, well- almost everyone I know has a dead sibling or two? Almost every mother lost a child- Gods know my mother's a basket case but even getting a cold could send her into fits. If something had happened to me when I was a tyke- I don't think she would have pulled through."

Komamura nodded enough for Iba to see his helmet tilt to indicate he as still listening.

"I- I don't actually know where I was going with this, but I was reading that report earlier and there's a note from Shita-san at the end that this is the first month we haven't had a kid under the age of five in the intake queue. Ever."

Komamura flipped though the pages of the report to read the hand-written note at the end. "That is excellent news!"

"Oh! Yeah! It's great!" Iba nodded enthusiastically. "It just- I don't know, I guess it just snuck up on me and I'm so used to hearing something went wrong I guess I don't quite know what to do with good news?" he shrugged.

Komamura pondered this for a moment. "Hm. Well. Take heart, to start. But I see what you mean- it's a tremendous achievement, but not one we contributed to, and a "No Dead Babies This Month" office party feels in poor taste at best."

"Oof, yeah- especially if next month there's an accident or something and there's a whole bunch in the queue." Iba nodded. He considered things for a moment.

"-What happened that there are le- fewer dead babies, actually?" Iba frowned. "-Whoever it is, it would be appropriate to toast them and make an offering in their name to the Gods of Good Fortune, I think. Also do more of whatever they did."

"That IS a good idea!" Komamura smiled under his helmet. Perhaps it was his training as a priest, but he did enjoy an offering of goodwill ceremony. Also, nobody would ask him to drink- just pour any alcohol he was offered on the statue of the relevant deity. "I think- It's probably in our statistics, if the tenth division doesn't have an idea already. Can you collect the cause of death data for young children for the last-"

He was interrupted by the thunderous footsteps of someone sprinting towards the office, immediately followed by a tall young woman with short white hair throwing the door open, red-faced and winded.

"THEY DID IT! THE MAD BASTARDS THEY DID IT!" She shouted with wild excitement.

"Isane-? Uh, Miss Kotetsu?" Iba flustered.

"Please keep your voice down-" Komamura said through gritted teeth, trying not to growl at being suddenly shouted at. "Who has-?"

He was interrupted by Miss Kotetsu bolting right up to his desk and shoving a newspaper into his face hard enough to actually wrap around his helmet in excitement.

"SMALLPOX! IT'S GONE!!" She shrieked with joy.

"-gone?" Iba asked, bewildered as Komamura gently took the newspaper from her and pulled it back to actually read it. It was a newspaper from the living world, dated that morning- someone had gone through some pains to get it back to the Seireitei at speed, but the news was worth it:

SMALLPOX IS DEAD!

"TOTALLY ERADICATED! EXTINCT! KAPUT! IT HAS CEASED TO BE!" She bounced excitedly. "IT IS AN EX-PANDEMIC!"

"So like. Nobody has it this year?" Iba tried.

"Nobody has it this year, or will ever have it again, if I'm reading this right." Komamura muttered in awe. "Thanks to an aggressive worldwide vaccination and disease protocol program, there have been no human cases of the disease for several years. Since there are no people infected, there is no way for the disease to come back..."

Both men stared into space, the news almost unbelievable.

"Well. That does explain the Less Dead Babies thing." Iba nodded.

"Fewer Dead Babies." Komamura and Isane corrected in unison.

"I mean yeah that sure is part of it because Smallpox was the number one killer of infants in the living world for a long time there, but there's a whole bunch of stuff that's really cut down on infant mortality in the last few decades in particular." Isane nodded.

"We were JUST Talking about that!" Iba said, excitedly. "-Good to know you guys in the fourth are keeping track of that, It was gonna take forever to pull out that data..."

"Oh, could you pull it out anyway Tetsu-kun?" She asked. "-That's most of why I came over- I mean, to share the good news first, but Unohana-Taicho is planning on using this to really push a widespread vaccination program in the Rukongai and having the numbers to back us up would be really helpful!"

"Oh! Uh, sure!" Iba blushed.

"...You know this young lady, Tetsu-Kun?" Komamura lightly teased.

Both of the young people twitched and bowed to him, pointing at each other and speaking at once.

"Oh! I'm sorry Sir, I'm fourth division third seat Isane Kotetsu, i just know Iba because we were in the same class at the academy-" She babbled.

"-this is Isane Kotetsu, she's the smartest person I know and she saved my life from a lizard one time!" He waved excitedly.

"...That lizard was not going to kill you." She sighed, covering her face in embarrassment. "-I mean, if you developed a sepsis infection from the contaminated wound it might have made you very ill but that would take weeks and we have antibiotics for that, the lizard itself wasn't all that dangerous."

"It was INSIDE my LEG!" Iba gestured to his right thigh.

Komamura slowly tilted his whole torso sideways at Iba, hoping that sentence might make more sense at a forty-five degree angle. "...How?"

"I. Uh." Iba stopped, realizing his story was maybe not one he should be telling his boss. "I was. um. Out camping with the lads back when I was in the 11th, and a lizard climbed into my cot and I was. not totally awake and thought someone was trying to cop a feel and well you know, that's behavior you respond to with force so I rolled over and tried to stab the intruder's hand and. Uh. Missed."

Komamura continued to stare at him blankly.

"There was. screaming. lotta flailing, blood, general mayhem sort of thing. And in the confusion the Lizard.... climbed. inside the hole. In my leg. Sir." Iba explained, slowly crumpling behind his desk.

Komamura sighed deeply.

"-but Miss Isane was right there and actually kicked Ikkaku halfway across the camp because he was trying to lure it out with a Banana and generally being useless and she just grabbed that sucker and ripped him right outta there and had the wound packed and sealed in less than a minute and I even got to finish doing boot camp!" He rallied, cheerfully waving at Isane in hopes of distracting his captain with how cool she was.

"...What happened to the lizard?" Komamura asked, warily eyeing her through the gap in his helmet.

"Oh! He was really, really human acclimated and sneaked into my medkit rather than go back into the wild, so Harry lives a very spoiled lizard life in a terrarium in my room at home! Though it's actually my sister's room now but he still gets all the mango and smashed beetles he can eat!" Isane nodded cheerfully.

"You named a lizard. Harry?" Komamura asked slowly.

"...Iba-san named him, actually." She blushed.

"Ironically!" Iba protested. "I'm only mostly stupid, sir."

Komamura sighed deeply and once again regretted that his disguise would not let him rub his face as needed. "Alright. Thank you for the announcement, Miss Kotetsu. We will get that data to you in a timely manner- was there anything else you needed"

"Oh gosh, there was something else, what was it-?" She tapped her chin, trying to remember.

There was the distant sound of explosives, and all three of them turned to see what looked like midday fireworks going off at the 4th.

"Oh Right! Unohana-taicho requests your presence at the 4th as. Um. 'Designated Non-Drinker and Unarmed Combat Specialist' because the party was getting kind of wild when I left actually-"

Komamura sighed, and picked up Tenken from his stand and started tying the zanpaktou to his belt anyway.

---

The following morning, a small party arrived at the local shrines to The Gods Of Good Fortune, bearing offerings on behalf of the living world's World Health Organization and the handful of names they'd been able to glean from the living world newspapers, and nursing varying degrees of of hangover.

Komamura lead the party, having gotten them up at a slightly malicious 5AM to be there first thing in the morning. Tetsuzaemon and his friends from the 11th he insisted come along and 'suffer with me, as my sworn brothers' were quite pained but doing their best to hold it together.

Shunsui was a veteran of this nonsense and was hiding the pain very well behind his longtime party companions, Ukitake and Unohana, who seemed so extraordinarily cheerful that Komamura had to conclude that they were both still significantly chemically altered. He couldn't fault Unohana- they were faint and only visible on the rare occasions she let her hair down, but just below her left ear there was still the faint divot scars from surviving her own infection.

Isane had celebrated just as hard as the 11th Division lads, but had also had the good sense to alternate beer and water and take both aspirin and some sort of horrible pink goop that apparently relieved nausea before passing out under a table and had woken up only slightly groggy.

Komamura's new friend Harry the Lizard- a remarkably loquacious and quick-witted reptile -had taken up residence inside his helmet, lightly intoxicated on the cocktail fruits people had kept feeding him, and was politely nestled in the thick fur of his neck to ward off the morning cold.

The rituals of gratitude for this miracle, and asking the Gods to bless those who had worked so hard went smoothly, and Komamura couldn't help but notice when he turned around that Miss Kotetsu had opted to lean on the shoulder of 'Tetsu-kun'.

It was not often Komamura started the day with the feeling that everything would turn out alright, but as he watched Tetsuzaemon cautiously but gracelessly take Isane's hand and her squeeze it back on the way back down from the shrine, he felt like the feeling might stay this time.

[alicesivory]

Old Habits Die Hard [3/?]

Previous Chapter // Main Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pairing: Nightwatch! Aemond Targaryen x wildling female! Reader

Genre: Historically accurate Aemond, a little angst cuz Aemond hates himself :( and they keep making fun of Aemond.

WC: 3307

Summary: If Aemond told his old self that he was interested in a wildling’s offer, he would laugh at himself.

He remembered it like it was yesterday.

Marked by a sense of decay and neglect, Harrenhal stood there with its ruins as the sky turned grey and Vhagar’s roar was heard all over the riverlands. Aemond Targaryen has overtaken Harrenhal, slaying everyone in sight. Proudly standing as his men dragged every enemy they could find, he smirked. Looking down to his opponent, ser Simon Strong kneeled before the one eyed prince. 

“Where does your loyalty truly lies?,” Aemond asked to the aged senior of house strong. “My loyalty is only to my house. I shall do what is needed to survive,” Ser Simon admitted, panting and slightly disheveled after losing the duel. “You take me as a fool, old man?” Aemond angrily said. “The day you surrendered Harrenhal to my uncle, Daemon Targaryen was the day you pledged your loyalty to the blacks. Which makes you a traitor to the throne.” With a scowl, he ordered his men to drag the remaining strong family away from the castle. “And you know what happens to traitors?” With a grimace smile, he leans down to ser Simon. 

“They perish.”

Aemond walks ahead, leading his men towards the hill where Vhagar rests. Ser Simon knew of prince Aemond’s cruelty and insanity, his family cried with pleas as they were dragged into their deaths. 

“M-my prince..I beg of you,” ser Simon pleads, rushing to grip Aemond’s cloak. 

“Spare me. Spare my family. M-my great n-nephew sits on your council-,”

“–And what does that have to do with your treacherous act?”

“Please! He will ask you to spare us–,”

“–That toad has abandoned you long before the war. He does not care for you or your family’s safety,” Aemond said, pulling his cloak away from ser Simon’s grip. “Harrenhal is yours, my prince! We have surrendered, what more could you ask for?!” Ser Simon pleaded once again. Abruptly stopping his tracks, Aemond turned his body towards ser Simon. Glaring at the old man, for he saw red when a strong dared to ask him what they could ask for more for his mercy. 

“House Strong has tainted my family more than enough!” His voice boomed, making everyone freeze at their place. “The day your family stepped into my father’s council was nothing but a mistake! Especially when poor Lyonel Strong brought his two sons. One of them bedded my half-sister producing her deceased bastard son that took my eye. Then the other, who is a crippled and a rat,” Aemond spat. “How many more Strongs shall ruin my family, hm? Not to mention you pledged your loyalty to my uncle, Daemon Targaryen. Where is he now? He has abandoned you. All of you.”

Ser Simon could not say a word at first after seeing the kinslayer’s wrath. But he knew his reason. 

“Then you’re here to kill us. To cover your sins after murdering your nephew, Lucer-,”

“If you dare to say his name one more time, I shall give you a slow and torturous death, you old toad,” Aemond warned. 

“Our fate has been sealed the day your family step foot into Harrenhal. I do not expect less from you,” ser Simon bravely said. Aemond could only hum and ordered his men to continue drag them up to the hill where the old dragon stood. 

To cover his sins. 

To wash away his sins with fire and blood. 

To wash away his guilt. 

Convincing himself that what he’s doing is right. 

The Strongs must perish under his hands. 

“Naejot Māzīs, Vhagar,” Aemond called out. 

The old dragon was awaken, putting itself up with its feet. His men lined the strongs in front of Vhagar. As Aemond took his time, he stood between the strongs and his dragon, looking down upon the house he loathes proudly, he spoke with a cocky grin, “Any last strong words, house Strong?”

All of them were silent, refusing to speak for they don’t want to gain satisfaction from the one eyed prince. But then ser Simon opened his mouth, “I shall tell Lucerys what you have become. For he is lucky to not witness the war that you’ve started.” 

That you’ve started.

That Aemond have started.

Gripping his sword, Aemond saw red. 

“Dracarys.” 

Splash. 

Aemond was brought back to the present. 

Sitting on the floors of castle black, his hands were tied as he gasped when the cold water touched his skin. Surrounded by the members of the watch, the Lord Commander hovers above him, “Thought we lost ya there for a second,” he mocked. Then it all came to Aemond’s senses. When he failed to kill or even capture the wildling, he was taken to the Lord Commander to be punished. He recalled the Lord Commander shouting at him for nearly hours to the point it gave him a pain in the head. But when he thought he was done for the day, he finds himself being dragged away. 

Facing the consequences. 

Got a nice beating till he passed out. 

“You hear me, Targaryen?”

The Lord Commander gripped Aemond’s hair, forcing him to look up to the northener with his one eye. “I said, what were you doing with that wildling?” Aemond knew that he could’ve just told the commander what the wildling has offered him, yet his mind told him not to. For he does not know what the northerners would do to him if they knew of the wildling’s offer. He was assumed as a traitor already, what use of him to make them doubt him even more? “She said nothing,” Aemond grits, holding his pain when the Lord Commander gripped his hair all the way to his scalp. “Then why did you fail to capture her? Or to even behead that wildling with your sword?” The Lord Commander asked him once more. 

“She was fast–,”

“–And I thought you were a skilled warrior! They told me you were ruthless and a killing machine!” Aemond felt a hard kick onto his stomach. Groaning in pain his body gave up and rested itself onto the ground. “I’ve now realized that you’re nothing but an ordinary man who just happens to have a dragon. Without it you’re not even worthy to be called a swordsman,” the Lord Commander mocked, crouching down to the one eyed prince. “You live under the watch now, boy. You may aswell leave your title for no one here has a higher rank than the other.” When he reached out to touch Aemond’s hair to get a good look of the Targaryen, he saw nothing but anger painted on his face. “If it weren’t for the Starks, I might have to repeat myself but, you have no use for us.”

“I do not know what sort of pact you made with that wildling. Whatever it is, if you dare to betray the watch we might aswell take your other eye out,” the Lord Commander warned. “I shall cut your arm before you could even do such thing,” Aemond spat at him. “You are allowed to try.” Patting Aemond’s cheek, the Lord Commander stood up looking down at him. “And they say that the Targaryens are closer to gods than men. Now I only see a Targaryen closer to the animals than men.” The other members of the watch laughed at the commander’s words, agreeing. 

Aemond closed his eye as he heard them starting to leave, their footsteps fading away from him. “Oh and you are now a steward, boy. Start cleaning the horses’ shit by dawn!” They all cackled, satisfied that now a Targaryen prince shall clean horse shit and cook in the kitchen. If only Aemond could burn everything down. He sighed in defeat, cradling himself as the cold air of the north has no mercy on him as well.

What could Aemond ask from the gods?

No matter how hard he pray, he knew that this was a punishment from the gods. If the gods had mercy on him, they would’ve let him die in that lake. Yet they put him in a place to feel how his enemy felt in his hands back in the war. But what he went through in the night’s watch was nothing than what his enemies had endured. He was starving for power at such young age. But what did it cost him? 

But what if his only escape was that wildling?

Will she keep her promise?

Helping him to find his way home, away from this nightmare?

Did the gods send her to play with him or to save him? 

He does not know. 

But deep down, he hoped that she was the key to his freedom.

Three moons have passed, he has spent his days more in the stable more than he spent his time in bed. At first the stench of horse shit made him puke countless times. Some of it got into his hair to the point he could not let it loose anymore. But he got used to the smell to the point he can’t smell shit no more. At Least he is better at feeding the horses than cooking in the kitchen and feeding the men. Even he loathed his own cooking. 

Stabbing a pile of hay, he tossed it into the stallion he was caring for. He saw how the horses had gotten used to his presence as well, staying still every time he got close to them. Horses aren’t as loud as birds or chickens, that was the thing that made his job easier. It’s better to stay with them than interacting with those northerners, especially when every member of the watch keeps an eye on every single move he makes.

For after what happened that night changed their perspectives on him. He could not walk freely without someone following him. Everytime he got too close to the forest for whatever reason, the watch would accuse him with any accusations and it was only a matter of time before they would throw a punch and an insult . He looked out seeing a few watch members passing by, and a brief view of the haunted forest. 

In secret, he stayed in the stable longer than he should have. Hoping for the wildling to return and take him away. But he wouldn’t even admit that to himself. It was a foolish wish for him to make. Two moons have passed and no signs of that wildling. He believes it was only a joke made by the gods so they could be entertained by his demise. 

“The gods work in mysterious ways. Yet, seek for them when you feel lost. For they are always around you.”

His mother’s influence for religion secretly affects him. He was never a devoted man to the seven, but living under the guidance of his mother affected his life. Aemond entered the small sept when the sun sets. When everyone was asleep or away to their posts. He finds himself kneeling down lighting a candle like his mother always does, he prayed. 

To The Father, to protect and guide him in the watch. 

To The Mother, to his loved ones. His family. 

To The Warrior, to give him strength in every battle he will face. 

To The Smith, to keep his sword strong and sharp

To The Crone, to ask for guidance and to lead him to the right path in life

And to The Stranger, to one day take him away when he finds peace.

Standing up, Aemond sighs still feeling unedged. 

When he looked up, he saw the symbol of the seven looking down on him. 

What is it that you want from me? 

He let out an agonising scream, not caring if anyone heard him. 

He just wanted his misery to end. 

Aemond stayed in the humble sept for awhile, trying to find his peace before he could continue his life. Dragging himself out of the sept, Aemond looked up seeing the moon shining above him. A light of hope even in the midst of darkness. 

Then he heard it. 

A horse neighed. 

It kept stomping. 

And it didn’t stop at one stomp. 

The stable was not far from the small sept so he could hear the loud stomps of the horse. Something was disturbing their peace. Aemond hurried towards the stable, expecting to find a critter bothering the horses. Yet he heard a voice. A familiar feminine voice he had not heard for a while. “Shh shh! Here’s a treat for ya! Sorry for startling ya,” he heard the voice said. At first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but when he took a closer look, he saw her figure with her fur coat he saw on the bridge of nightfort. 

“You,” he pointed at her. 

The Wildling turned to his direction as she fed a horse with a toothy smile.

“Snow haired! You fed these horses well!” 

What is this? 

A trick?

To mess with him again?

Aemond was angry as he stomped towards the wildling pulling out his dagger. “Careful now, we don’t want to startle the horses,” she said, pulling out her own. “What is your business here, wildling?” He snarled at her, headlocking her in place. “Ow! Hey! I have a name y’know!” Aemond took her dagger away from her grip. “You bring nothing but bad omen upon me. SPEAK!” He grits his teeth, wanting to end his misery of being played by the gods. But he couldn't, for he needed to know her reasons. 

“My offer still stands, Targaryen!” She exclaimed, before swinging her feet and locking Aemond’s ankle to flip him over, releasing herself from his grip. “I am not here to bring trouble,” she said again, lifting her arms up. “Your offer is nothing but a trick! How can you, a stupid wildling, take me back behind the wall?” He asked, standing back on his feet with his dagger still gripped tightly. “I-I admit I do not know. But I can give you the chance. Rather than you being stuck here, watched by these crows every single day! You have more chance to escape outside of the crow’s nest.” She tried to step closer yet Aemond stepped back. 

“Believe me, I loathe these crows as much as you do,” she said. 

He stared at her as she still kept her hands open, like trying to tame a wild beast. 

“And how should I know that you will not kill me?”

“I might be called a savage but I promise you, I’m- we are not that bad. Especially to things that could benefit us.”

“And how could I benefit you?”

“You have lived in the nest of the crows for three moons by now. You know more of their ways than we wildlings have for years. Yes we know their strategies, but what do you think is the reason for us not passing through them?” 

Her words made him think. 

“We are outnumbered, our weapons and resources aren’t as much or dangerous as the crows. With you, we can rely on your knowledge and we could also need a little help. Not to mention, I’m sure you’ve made several acquaintances.”

Aemond rolled his eyes. 

“It is not that easy, you fool. The crows aren’t as stupid as you think they are.”

“But we have tried everything. What is the harm of trying?” She asked, yet when she touched his arm, he tackled her down. His dagger once again close to her throat.

She was the one he prayed to come to him all for the past moon yet when she came why is he like this?

Afraid to be betrayed.

Afraid to be abandoned.

Afraid that this is only a game once again from the gods.

”Please, come with me,” she pleaded.

Her eyes enchanting him as it never leaves his healthy eye, not even a blink. Afraid to be lured and enchanted by her, he closed his eyes.

His breathing was ragged as he gripped the dagger to the point his hands started to shake. He wanted to go home. He just wanted to escape this hell. Was she his answer?

“Aemond?”

He looked up, how did she- no, it wasn’t her voice. He turned his heads towards the entrance of the stable as he still has the wildling underneath him.

“Jack,” Aemond said in horror. 

Jack saw him with the wildling. He would tell the others and he would be seen as treason- he would be beheaded- shit Jack’s running away now. “Jack, come back here!” Aemond exclaimed in frustration when Jack started to run from the stable. Thankfully Aemond was faster and tackled the young boy to the ground. “Let go! Let go of me!” Aemond shuts Jack’s mouth with his hand.

Shushing him.

“I am not your enemy,” Aemond tried to say, holding Jack in place as Jack squirmed and kicked trying to let go from Aemond’s strong grip. The wildling catched up to them, curiously looking peeking her head behind Aemond’s shoulder.

Jack lets out a muffled voice. 

“And she…is not here to harm anyone.” 

Aemond’s words made Jack give him a confused stare. 

“I knew I heard something.”

The Lord Commander. 

Aemond turned around and got back up to his feet, holding Jack in his grip as a dozen men surrounded the three of them. “Can’t believe you made an allegiance to those savages,” he chuckled. The wildling pulled out her dagger, keeping her feet steady. “Let us leave, and the boy will be spared.” Aemond threatened. The Lord Commander scoffed, “Go ahead. Kill another innocent boy, kinslayer.” 

Aemond felt his jaw clench. 

Lucerys. 

He shook his head to snap out of it. 

“Stop it,” he warned, gripping Jack’s throat. 

With one nod, the watch suddenly gripped the spearwife’s arms, making her squirm and screaming to let her go. Aemond watched as he was once again cornered by these fucking northeners. “Your one way ticket to ‘freedom’ is in our hands. What will you do, Targaryen? What is your plan now?” The Lord Commander asked, stepping closer to Aemond and tapped his forehead. “You can’t even think of an escape plan. You are a fool.”

Aemond reached out the dagger he took from the wildling. 

Swiftly letting go of Jack and stabbing The Lord Commander’s chest. 

He saw the horror that succumbs the Lord Commander’s eyes when he buries the dagger deep into his chest. He had to. He had no choice. Before the watch noticed, he quickly dragged the wilding out of the men’s grip that were frozen because of shock, running towards the stable. 

“Wait! The boy!” The wildling said, as Aemond dragged her into the stable choosing a random horse that he could trust. “What of him?” He asked, picking up his sword he left beneath a pile of hay. “We- we can’t just leave him to the crows!” She shouted at him. “Oh so now you care for the life of a boy?”

“I always have! I may have killed a couple of crows but I know who is innocent and who is not!”

Ignoring her argument, Aemond puts a saddle onto the horse. “We must hurry.” 

Before she could even argue with him, he picked her up and placed her on the horse. “It was not my fault that this night became eventful-,”

“–Stop talking,” he sternly said as he climbed up to the horse, making it gallop away from the stable. 

“Stop them!” They heard a crow said, some flying their arrows towards them. Yet the stallion was fast, leading them away from the attacks. Ahead, they saw how the gates were starting to close and their horse was galloping as fast as it could but with the distance, they wouldn't make it. But then someone shot an arrow to the man's leg, stopping him from closing the gate any further. 

Aemond looked back, trying to find the source of the arrow. 

He was surprised to find Jack being the culprit. 

Standing not far from the gates of castle black lowering down his bow. 

He could only nod at the one eyed prince as he watched them escape from the watch. 

Hoping for the best. 

The horse kept galloping as Aemond looked back at the black fortress that he claimed was his prison. It kept shrinking from his sight, so he looked ahead, finding the opening path of the haunted forest welcoming them. For he knew he had made a choice and he could not turn back around. This was the path he has chosen and Aemond Targaryen could only pray to The Crone for guidance as he awaits for his next journey.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! This chapter was a bit overwhelming to write cuz I was a little bummed out when writing this. It’s not that proof read so I do apologize for any typos or bad writing lol🎀 Anyways, let’s just say we’ll have more scenes with Aemond and our wildling reader in future chapters<3 I want to take this series on a steady pace rather than a hurried series yk, I want to build the relationship between Aemond and the reader so you’re in for a ride☺️🌷

🍰current tags: @suntizme @8812-342 @ladytargg @barnes70stark @magpiewritingsforonce @thesadvampire ( if your username was bolded it means I can’t tag you and idk why😔🐦‍⬛)

[lovifie]

Her Royal Highness Pt. 1

Masterlist

The palace gardens.

Thousands of flowers, trees and weeds grow all together. Every one of them, their own use and their own mission. 

Growing delicious fruit, being used in medicinal infusions… decorating the burning chapel of the late Queen.

The hundreds of chrysanthemums that decorated her coffin is a sight you would never forget. On any regular funeral, the flowers would have been white. But not on your mum's, everyone from the kingdom who arrived to give their respect to the deceased royal brought flowers. Every flower of different colours, making it look like a rainbow, making it look like a painting. 

A gruesome painting.

But now, as the autumn winds circle your body in the garden; you look around for the chrysanthemums. As in trying to go back to that day, take another look at her face, and try to memorise her better.

But it's not her face the one you see, but of a man you have never seen before.

High in the tower, looking down on you through the window of your father's office. Blue eyes lock with yours, and a kind smile appears through his beard.

At that moment, Alissa, one of the maids, calls for you.

“Your Royal Highness, your father requested your presence in the Sun Room.”

The Sun Room, the stance where you would spend all those sleepless nights looking into the telescope. Visiting all those faraway galaxies, until the sun would come up. 

Now, it has been provisioned with a table and chairs, and it was your father's favourite spot to have breakfast. 

So you didn't think anything else of the request, making your way up to the Sun Room. Blue eyes already forgotten until you enter the run, and meet them again. But he was not alone. 

Five men were seated around the table, only one of them you know. 

Right in front of you was your father, smiling at you while pointing to sit on the chair opposite to his. 

On his right, was sitting the man you saw on the window. Around the same age as your father, with blue eyes, a beard and a smoking pipe on his lips.

Sitting on the left of your father, was a man wearing a hood and a veil-like fabric covering the lower half of his face leaving only his eyes exposed. You thought he was looking at you for a second, but when you tried to meet his gaze you realised he was looking at the man sitting next to the first mysterious man.

You follow his gaze, meeting bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile looking at you. A bit of stubble surrounded his mouth, only interrupted by the small scar on his chin. 

The last man on the table caught your eyes as he left the cup he was just using on the table. Tan skin, brown eyes and just as kind smile as everyone else on the table met your eyes. 

Everyone on the table except for your father quickly got on their feet as you entered the room, bowing to you as a sign of respect. 

You bowed back, almost on autopilot after so many years of training.

The brown-eyed man quickly makes his way towards you and moves your chair back to make it easier for you to sit, and once you do he pushes you closer to the table. 

“Thank you…” You say, a bit surprised by the action and follow him with your eyes until you look back at your father. “Morning, Father.”

“Morning, angel. Let me introduce you to King John Price, he has come all the way from his kingdom with his son and his two best knights just to meet you.” He says pointing to the older man on his right. 

“It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Princess.” The sudden deep voice from the foreign king quickly gains your attention as you smile at him courteously. 

“The pleasure is mine, your Royal Highness.” You answer by bowing with your head and picking up the cup of tea on your right. “May I ask the reason for such an odyssey?”

“Well, my son here, Prince Simon is still unmarried and as my only heir, I would like to meet my grandchild before my passing to die in peace. So when the news that the young princess was of age to marry, it sounded like the perfect opportunity. And now, having met you, I can rest assured that my grandchildren will be handsome.” The king jokes laughing softly but gets interrupted by the choking sounds that erupted from you. 

What news of you being of age? Marriage? Grandchildren? As you try to get back to breathing you cover your mouth with the napkin and try to figure out what is happening. But it is not hard to figure it out, your father is using you as spare change to keep the kingdom safe. A marriage between kingdoms means a bigger territory, a bigger army, and a bigger treasure to live in peace.

It quickly downsides to you how little your opinions matter to the kingdom affairs, it doesn't matter whether you want to get married or not, whether you like the prince, your soon-to-be husband, or not, any of that matter, because you are just like a horse being sold to a bigger farm.

Even though you can barely remember your mother's face, you can almost hear her screams of rage inside your head, the impotence flowing through your veins. She would have fought your father on this, completely against this interchange. Giving away her only daughter to the first man who knocks on the door, completely unaware of his real intentions. 

But your mother is dead, your father is getting old, and you are just a princess sitting between two royal knights of a foreign kingdom. 

So you do what you must, you stop coughing, get your breath back, stand up apologising for the rumble and excuse yourself by letting everyone know that there is a task that cannot wait to be done that you forgot to do this morning. 

You make your way out before any men in the room can say anything and walk to your room as fast as you can, hating more than ever living in such a big palace.

Once inside and with the door locked, you fall to your knees letting the tears flow. You should be ashamed really, of getting knocked out this easily after your first royal mission. 

But you can't help it, the fight that ignited inside your soul. You knew this would happen, ever since you were born your duty has always been to be married to some foreign prince, the easier way to make allies. But your poor romantic heart, which would keep you awake at night, dreaming of how a kind prince would appear to court you, how you would fall in love with each other, finally marrying and living happily ever after.

Those dreams get shattered in such a brutal way, leaving you no time to try and conceal your feelings. So you indulge in those feelings, suddenly taking notice of how little freedom you have left, you decide to not conceal your feelings. So you move onto your bed, and you cry. You cry until you no longer feel your mother's rage inside your heart.

—————————————————————

The knock on your door wakes you up, not having noticed falling asleep. You make your way and unlock the door coming face to face with Alissa, who looks at you with a worried look.

“Your Royal Highness, your father requested your presence in his dormitory. You should come quickly.” She says as she starts to walk looking back to make sure you are following her.

“Did something happen? Why the hurry, Allisa?” You ask trying to get next to her and when she doesn't answer you grab her arm making her turn to you. “Allisa, what's wrong?”

“It's better for you to see yourself, Princess” Allisa says grabbing your hand back and walking with you to your father's room door. 

She opens the door and looks at you waiting for you to enter but without moving herself. She avoids your gaze almost as if she feels guilty about having you in the situation. 

Both the curiosity and anxiety of the moment make you enter the room without another thought.

The smell of chrysanthemums invades your nostrils, but there aren't any flowers in the room. But the sight brings you back to that grotesque painting of your mother's funeral.

Your father lays on his bed, breathing with difficulty and his eyes closed. He looks weak, a sight you thought was impossible now was right in front of you.

You run to your father's bed, kneeling at his side and grab his hand with your shaking fingers.

“Father? Please talk to me, what has happened to you?” You ask with your vision getting blurry with tears.

“Oh, my sweet bird.” Your father says opening his eyes and smiling weakly at you. “Why do you sound so worried? Don't you ever worry about me, it's my duty to worry about you. Something I ate must me fighting back, but it is nothing I can’t beat.” He caresses your cheek, feeling the cold of his fingers making a tear fall on top of his hand. “How are you feeling? You looked upset before when you left, do you not like the Prince?”

Like the Prince? The Prince you didn't hear say a word? The Prince you didn't even see his whole face? The Prince that didn't even look at you? That Prince? Did you even have a say in whether you like him or not?

“I was just… surprised.” You lie.

“They are nice people. They have a big kingdom, bigger than ours. They will take good care of you, birdie.” Your father says and you see him begin to close his eyes. “I'm gonna try to sleep again, alright? I'm sure I will wake up feeling better. You should try as well, it's been a strange day, hasn't it?”

You smile at him as you see him close his eyes but you don't move. You stay put while holding his hand, and only look up when you hear the door open. 

The King Price enters accompanied by the brown-eyed knight, who is grabbing a tea set on a tray.

“Leave it on the nightstand, Kyle.” Says the king without noticing you are inside and when he finally does notice his expression changes. The more crude and stone-like expression he was using, changes into the kind one you saw before. “Oh, greetings, Princess. Your father requested some tea to ease his sleeping.”

Kyle, the knight, puts the tray on the nightstand and gives you a smile when you look at him. Feeling your throat dry after crying the whole day, you stretch your arm to grab the teacup but before you can do it, the knight grabs your hand.

“Apologies, Princess. But it is for your father.” He says while looking at you with a smile but without letting go of your hand.

“I'm sure my father wouldn't mind sharing a cup. I only want a sip.” I say trying again to grab it but meeting the same luck again. The knight moves his hand to grab my hand more softly instead of my wrist and moves it up to his lips leaving a kiss on my knuckles.

“Your Royal Highness, with all due respect… I wouldn't recommend drinking the tea.” A shiver runs down your spine and you feel the king put a hand on your shoulder making you look up at him.

“Princess, why don't you go back to your room? We will take care of your father, don't worry.” King Price says and you feel like screaming, shouting, hitting, biting, fighting them until they leave the palace and never come back. But you don't, you stay looking at them like a dumb child.

You look back at your father. His skin looks almost grey, a pained expression on his face and cold hands meeting yours. Just this morning, he was fine. Having breakfast with everyone, joking, talking about marriage with the other king. And now, this.

“This is your making, right? You have poisoned my father. You are trying to murder my father’’ You say with a shaking voice looking between them and you hear the king sigh.

‘‘Princess, you are far too young to understand. Your father's kingdom has way too much potential for it to go to waste under such a careless king. He is already too old, and he was never that bright to begin with. When your mother was alive this was a great kingdom, but it has only been getting worse. Is the best for everyone, once you and my son get married, you won't have to worry about anything anymore. You are clever like your mother, aren't you? So prove it, leave your father to rest and let me make everything easier for you.’’

You feel your head throb, so much information all at once. The shameless way he just admitted to the murder of your father, how he let you know that this has been his plan for years even knowing your late mother, the way he expects you to just accept this reality.

You know you need to fight, but you know you would never be able to fight them alone. You think about different things would be if you had any siblings, maybe an older brother that didn't need to get married in order to reign. How things would be different if you were not the next in line… and then you remember. Your uncle. Your mother's brother is the next in line to your throne after you. 

But only if anything happened to you…

What's more important? The kingdom? Or yourself?

The blade on Kyle's waist suddenly seems too close to ignore. And you don't fully register what you are doing until you see the fear in the knight's eyes.

The blade feels heavy on your hands when you raise it above your head, and Kyle jumps in front of the king to protect him of your attack.

But you are not aiming at the king, you are aiming at yourself. And before they can prevent it, the blade is already through your torso.

‘‘If there is no marriage, the kingdom is for my uncle not for you.’’ You say barely above a whisper, feeling cold. A wide contrast with the warm blood covering your hands.

Your ears feel stuffed and it is more and more difficult to stay kneeled without falling. You hear the King curse and order the knight to go for the sages.

You feel the cold floor against your temple, not having noticed being lying on your side. You never thought about dying in a battle, or poison, or murdered. You always thought that's how powerful people die, and unimportant princesses like you would most likely die of old age somewhere alone.

But dying in order to save the kingdom seems noble enough.

In your last moments, you think about your father. Lying on his bed behind you, still breathing but already being given up on by everyone. Even his only daughter. 

What would he think if he got better? If he woke up right now? And saw his child, lying on a pool of her blood inserted on the visiting knight’s blade by herself. 

Useless.

You were supposed to help the kingdom and didn't even try to fight. Gave up before the fight started.

Coward.

Leaving the job for your poor uncle, as if he was not already busy enough.

Selfish.

Dying.

Alone.

—————————————————————

Since I uploaded the little something I did yesterday I couldn't stop thinking about it.

hehe

I hoped that you liked the first chapter <3

[notjustjavierpena]

Ring

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is written for an anon who wanted to see Chucho passing on Javier’s mother’s engagement ring to his son. It just happened. It’s not very long, but it’s certainly made me feel so many things.

Summary: You meet Chucho Peña for the first time.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: brief mention of Javi’s deceased mother, tooth-rotting fluff, absolute delulu-land writer me, Chucho is a great father

Word count: 1.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50101930

Ring

Javier looks at you as you lean back into the cheap garden chair on his father’s back porch, resting the tip of your beer bottle against your lips whilst finishing your sentence. Beside him, he can hear Chucho talking about the upcoming apple season and the need for a helping hand to make apple juice to sell at the stall by the road during September. You sound genuinely interested in a way that Javier never was himself.

He continues looking at you. There are flowers in your hair; three small, braided daisies resting behind your ear because you think it is cute. They are the result of getting here early. You had bent down to pluck them from the side of the road and said something about making an extra effort now that you are meeting his Pop for the first time, something about honoring the remains of Spring too. He had held back an embarrassing and vulnerable line about reliving Spring at its peak every time he spends time with you.

There are bows on your dress straps too, just like the day that he met you. They’re white to match the flowers, resting so prettily on top of your shoulders that he wants to kiss until you sigh softly with your lips resting in his hair.

“I’m your girl,” you say and the words snap Javier out of his trance, disappointing him when he realizes that they aren’t directed at him. You look around to prove your point, “This place is idyllic.”

“You’re certainly more enthusiastic than my son,” Chucho says with a glint in his eye, “Yet he never seemed to complain when his mother fattened him up with apple pies.”

Javier can feel his cheeks heat up in a mix of shyness and anxiety to hear his mother brought up, making him shift a little in his seat. He mumbles something snarky under his breath, but the visible embarrassment on his face earns him the privilege of you leaning in over his armrest to melt into him.

His father gives him a soft and knowing smile.

“I’m sorry to hear about your wife, Mr. Peña,” you give your condolences even if you know that it’s been decades.

“Thank you, mija,” Chucho replies.

“I do make a mean apple pie though, so maybe traditions won’t die out completely,” you add with a grin, and Javier’s arm comes around your shoulder. He holds you so tightly.

“You can use the kitchen someday,” he suggests, looking at his father who still sports that knowing look. They have a conversation without saying anything to each other, simply sharing a look of understanding.

“It would be my pleasure,” Chucho tells you.

*

When the night comes to an end, you excuse yourself to the bathroom before your drive home. You blame it on the beer, chuckling softly as you say something about alcohol making you piss four times in an hour, red in the face as you feel like you are verging on embarrassing yourself. Javier loves how simple everything is with you. No games, no facades, so yourselves around each other that it’s nauseating.

“She’s nice,” Chucho says when it’s finally only him and his son in the kitchen.

“Just nice?” Javier looks down at his feet. The two of them stand against the kitchen table, and Javier swears that he can feel the presence of his mother’s warm touch, hear her soft voice, and see her smile in the kitchen atmosphere. Nothing feels uncomfortable about the silence that stretches for what feels like a minute but is probably no more than ten seconds.

“Excuse me for not knowing what to say,” his father continues with kind teasing, “Lorraine was the last girl you brought over, and that went south quickly.”

“Pops.”

Chucho holds up his hands in surrender.

“I think this is it,” Javier then tells him with his stomach doing an unbelievable amount of somersaults, “I mean it this time. I can fe—“

“I know, mijo.”

“You know?” Javier finally looks up at his father.

“I see the way that you’re lookin’ at her,” Chucho elaborates and the teasing ceases, kindness only remaining, “I only had those kinda eyes for your mamá. She would have liked her too.”

Javier looks away. He clears his throat, “Yeah. I think you’re right. Even if she was picky.”

“She knew what was best for you, Jav, it’s a parents’ job,” Chucho starts to move. He takes off his hat to place it on the countertop, moving to the kitchen cabinet furthest to the right, “Which is why I’ve got something for you before you leave.”

He stretches a little to reach behind the stacks of plates, fumbling for a moment when he isn’t tall enough to see what he is doing. Javier watches curiously as his father retrieves a box of matches, pulling it open to reveal that it doesn’t contain any.

Instead, a golden band with a simple diamond resides in the box. Javier recognizes it immediately as his mother’s engagement ring and his eyes widen whilst his breath catches, heart hammering in his chest, “Dad, I—“

“Take it,” Chucho pushes.

Javier holds out his hand. The golden band feels heavy in his palm as it is placed there, weighing down due to the responsibility that follows with it. However, with every passing second, the weight becomes lighter as he feels at ease with the idea of making you his forever.

Colombia teaches one to see through all the bullshit. He briefly thinks back to his meeting with Lorraine at the wedding reception, and he knows now that what he felt back then was longing. What he feels with you is needing. He needs you.

“Are you sure?” He still asks.

“She’s perfect, son,” his father reassures, even throws the matchbox out to stress his point, “And I want some grandchildren soon.”

“Whoa,” Javier laughs and scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. He pockets the ring carefully, “One thing at a time.”

“I’m gettin’ old, want to watch them play in the apple orchard once,” he shrugs, “What’s your excuse?”

“I want to do it the right way, make mamá happy,” he replies. He hears the bathroom door unlocking.

“Who would’ve thought? There’s finally something keeping the Hero of Laredo here,” Chucho smirks and pats his son’s back, “Perhaps she may even make an honest man out of you.”

Javier doesn’t get to say something snarky back since you enter the kitchen. You look tired but you look so comfortable, cute, and happy.

“Ready to go?” He asks.

“We don’t need to help with anything?” You gesture to the kitchen. Javier cannot believe that you don’t know that he has an engagement ring in his pocket.

“Not at all,” Chucho reassures, “Cleaning up after a dinner party winds me down, readies me for bed. I promise.”

“Well, it was so nice to meet you,” you go to hug him.

“A pleasure,” Chucho corrects you when he hugs you back.

In the car, a slow song plays on the radio as Javier drives you home to his apartment. He didn’t dare tell his father that he is already looking at house prices and adverts, building a life with you in his mind every time he looks at you without you noticing.

“Think he liked me?” You ask whilst half-asleep.

“Not at all, definitely thought you were awful,” Javier jokes and it earns him a slap to his arm. He grins at you boyishly.

“Shut up, I mean it,” you sit up straighter, “I was shitting my pants, Peña.”

“I don’t think you have to worry,” he eventually says.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[bibibbon]

Need to get something off my chest

People in the fandom blaming Nana for causing Shigaraki to be abused and all the suffering the Shimura family went through as well as calling her decision to abandon Kotaro stupid is if someone blamed all the abuse and horrible actions of Enji that the Todoroki family had to suffer through on Enji's deceased father.

Specifically people appear to zone in on Nana's call to not have All Might or Gran Torino check in with her family when it makes sense. She knows AFO has eyes and ears everywhere and will use that to kill those closest to her and those around her as we know since Nana's husband is dead by the time Kotaro is given up for adoption and All Might leaves Japan for the US in order to avoid AFO for that same reason. There is also no way for Nana to know that her successor would wind up as the strongest wielder of One For All and would be the first person to take down All For One.

I'm not sure if you were in the mha critical side of tumblr, but this is a very common opinion here. Nana deserved better, and none of the nana hate honestly made sense.

People shouldn't blame nana for doing what she could to protect her child. She explicitly said that she had done it to protect him, and she didn't willingly want to give up her child. The act wasn't done out of malice but was done out of love. Her husband was dead, and all for one was on her tail. She had to train all Might, and there was no safe choice to keep kotaro. It was a hundred times safer to make a distance between her and kotaro so he could live without the burden of his mother's duties on top of him caring or threatening to cause him constant harm.

Nana tried her best as a mother, and we didn't talk enough about it. She, at the beginning, was probably the breadwinner of the family, her job making it so that she had limited time with her son, yet from the flashbacks we see that kotaro loved his mother dearly. He loved her that child him simply cried and cried when she was about to leave, he loved her to the point that he kept her picture acknowledging that she was his mother yet despising that she left him all alone. His hatred of nana stems mainly from feelings of sadness and betrayal, which only exist because he loved his mother and felt safe when she was near.

I suppose we don't talk about the fact that after nana's husband died and she became a widow she had to juggle all the responsibilities of being a weirder of OFA, a mother who had to be constantly active in her child's life and a hero who had to save others while also ensuring that she earned enough money to keep her son comfortable.

I headcanon that at the time nana was never a good cook and that it was her husband that usually cooked for the family but when he died she had to take on the cooking duties which was a struggle but we see her actively trying even including her son in the process.

Giving up kotaro was the most logical circumstance, and I stand by that. I think to a certain extent, kotaro realises that too, and it's exactly why he doesn't blame his mother but blames her job he blames the hero, not his mother. To me, it evidently seems like kotaro separates nana into two different versions : the hero and his mother.

If we follow that belief, it's exactly why the only photo that kotaro has with his mother is so painful. Every time he sees that photo he in a way, is forced to acknowledge that both versions of nana are his mother. The photo shows his mother, but it shows her in her hero attire she is the 7th weirder of ofa in that picture not his mother but the mannerisms, the way she smiles and looks at him is that of a mother's look.

A haunting picture for kotaro. A picture of a mother's love.

Comparisons between enji and nana fall on deaf ears especially when you look at the circumstances and situations that both characters are faced with.

Enji DOESN'T love his children, his actions were out of malice, greed and desire to be great. He sacrificed family for greatness.

Nana LOVED her child. Her actions had a desire to protect, love, and care for her only family, her only offspring. A beautiful light in the world that she doesn't want destroyed by AFO. She had no choosing as I bet if she truly had the choice. She would do anything to love, protect, and be with her child. In a dreadful situation, nana chose the only way to guarantee kotaros safety.

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

Heist Society by Ally Carter

When Katarina Bishop was three, her parents took her on a trip to the Louvre…to case it. For her seventh birthday, Katarina and her Uncle Eddie traveled to Austria…to steal the crown jewels. When Kat turned fifteen, she planned a con of her own—scamming her way into the best boarding school in the country, determined to leave the family business behind. Unfortunately, leaving “the life” for a normal life proves harder than she’d expected.

Soon, Kat's friend and former co-conspirator, Hale, appears out of nowhere to bring Kat back into the world she tried so hard to escape. But he has a good reason: a powerful mobster has been robbed of his priceless art collection and wants to retrieve it. Only a master thief could have pulled this job, and Kat's father isn't just on the suspect list, he is the list. Caught between Interpol and a far more deadly enemy, Kat’s dad needs her help.

For Kat, there is only one solution: track down the paintings and steal them back. So what if it's a spectacularly impossible job? She's got two weeks, a teenage crew, and hopefully just enough talent to pull off the biggest heist in her family's history--and, with any luck, steal her life back along the way.

Amulet by Kazu Kibuishi

After the tragic death of their father, Emily and Navin move with their mother to the home of her deceased great-grandfather, but the strange house proves to be dangerous. Before long, a sinister creature lures the kids' mom through a door in the basement. Em and Navin, desperate not to lose her, follow her into an underground world inhabited by demons, robots, and talking animals.

Eventually, they enlist the help of a small mechanical rabbit named Miskit. Together with Miskit, they face the most terrifying monster of all, and Em finally has the chance to save someone she loves.

The War That Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

Ten-year-old Ada has never left her one-room apartment. Her mother is too humiliated by Ada’s twisted foot to let her outside. So when her little brother Jamie is shipped out of London to escape the war, Ada doesn’t waste a minute—she sneaks out to join him.   So begins a new adventure of Ada, and for Susan Smith, the woman who is forced to take the two kids in. As Ada teaches herself to ride a pony, learns to read, and watches for German spies, she begins to trust Susan—and Susan begins to love Ada and Jamie. But in the end, will their bond be enough to hold them together through wartime? Or will Ada and her brother fall back into the cruel hands of their mother?

Ascendance by Jennifer Nielsen

In a discontent kingdom, civil war is brewing. To unify the divided people, Conner, a nobleman of the court, devises a cunning plan to find an impersonator of the king's long-lost son and install him as a puppet prince. Four orphans are recruited to compete for the role, including a defiant boy named Sage. Sage knows that Conner's motives are more than questionable, yet his life balances on a sword's point—he must be chosen to play the prince or he will certainly be killed. But Sage's rivals have their own agendas as well.

As Sage moves from a rundown orphanage to Conner's sumptuous palace, layer upon layer of treachery and deceit unfold, until finally, a truth is revealed that, in the end, may very well prove more dangerous than all of the lies taken together.

The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi

An ocean voyage of unimaginable consequences... Not every thirteen-year-old girl is accused of murder, brought to trial, and found guilty. But I was just such a girl, and my story is worth relating even if it did happen years ago. Be warned, however: If strong ideas and action offend you, read no more. Find another companion to share your idle hours. For my part I intend to tell the truth as I lived it.

The Girl Who Drank the Moon by Kelly Barnhill

Every year, the people of the Protectorate leave a baby as an offering to the witch who lives in the forest. They hope this sacrifice will keep her from terrorizing their town. But the witch in the forest, Xan, is kind and gentle. She shares her home with a wise Swamp Monster named Glerk and a Perfectly Tiny Dragon, Fyrian. Xan rescues the abandoned children and deliver them to welcoming families on the other side of the forest, nourishing the babies with starlight on the journey. 

One year, Xan accidentally feeds a baby moonlight instead of starlight, filling the ordinary child with extraordinary magic. Xan decides she must raise this enmagicked girl, whom she calls Luna, as her own. To keep young Luna safe from her own unwieldy power, Xan locks her magic deep inside her. When Luna approaches her thirteenth birthday, her magic begins to emerge on schedule--but Xan is far away. Meanwhile, a young man from the Protectorate is determined to free his people by killing the witch. Soon, it is up to Luna to protect those who have protected her--even if it means the end of the loving, safe world she’s always known.

Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter

When orphaned, eleven-year-old Pollyanna comes to live with austere and wealthy Aunt Polly, her philosophy of gladness brings happiness to her aunt and other unhappy members of the community.

Paddington Bear by Michael Bond

Mr. and Mrs. Brown first met Paddington, a most endearing bear from Darkest Peru on a railway platform in London. A sign hanging around his neck said, "Please look after this bear. Thank you" So that is just what they did.

From the very first night when he attempted his first bath and ended up nearly flooding the house, Paddington was seldom far from imminent disaster. Jonathan and Judy were delighted with this havoc and even Mr. and Mrs. Brown had to admit that life seemed to be more filled with adventure when there was a bear in the house.

Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke

A dragon. A boy. A journey. Firedrake, a brave young dragon, his loyal brownie friend Sorrel and a lonely boy called Ben are united as if by destiny. Together, they embark on a magical journey to find the legendary place where silver dragons can live in peace for ever. With only a curious map and the whispered memories of an old dragon to guide them, they fly across moonlit lands and seas to reach the highest mountains in the world. Along the way, they discover extraordinary new friends in unlikely places and a courage they never knew they had. Just as well, for the greatest enemy of all is never far behind them - a heartless monster from the past who's been waiting a very long time to destroy the last dragons on earth.

Wings by Aprilynne Pike

Laurel was mesmerized, staring at the pale things with wide eyes. They were terrifyingly beautiful—too beautiful for words.

Laurel turned to the mirror again, her eyes on the hovering petals that floated beside her head. They looked almost like wings.

[jolalibrary]

ii - it’s just aah little crush

javier peña x f!reader | chapter two of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. discussions of deceased parent (javi's side) continuous romcom vibes. an: i can't believe so many of you are in love with this, hope you're still grinning. wordcount: 2.2k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Go to song that’ll get you dancing. 

I don’t dance, hermosa

Let me guess, you’re the type to sit in a corner smoking and drinking away while everyone else has fun.

no

for one I don’t smoke anymore 

Ha! Knew it. Bet you have a moody face too. All annoyed that people dare to have fun.

i don’t know what gave you the impression I hate fun 

Name a song, then. 

I can’t think. what’s yours? 

Tough to pick one. But, since I did just dance in my kitchen to I Want It That Way, I’ll choose that one

I bet it was a sight 

You are right, it was an award winning performance.

what you wearing 

Shut up, Javi. 

In time, Javi begins to learn things about you.

Such as your aversion to certain weather types, the kinds of foods you dislike on pizza and that you travel for work.

It’s not every week, but most. You have a place, but you live outside of a suitcase more often than you like. But, you’re not complaining—that you repeatedly stress to him—because you’ve never really had to travel anywhere overtly far. Just from one side of the country to the other.

But, it does steal hours—both from being in the air and entering a new timezone. Something he, too, tries not to feel annoyed about, but still is.

If anything, he’s beginning to find it hard not to be that person, the one who repeats texts—obsessively checks. The one who looks forward to the time of the day he gets to speak to you. 

You’re a nice treat at the end of the day—one which has spread into being a welcomed surprise at other times.

The two of you texting, bleeding from the night to the day, with him waking and seeing a text waiting for him on his screen. A ‘Good morning’ here, a ‘hope you don’t stand in shit today’ there.

you land ok

Truthfully, he knew there was a good chance you were still commuting—knowing more about this flight and your plans than previous trips.

But he still grows impatient, tapping his fingers on surfaces, hovering around, earning him stares from his pop as he makes a drink or admires the weather. 

He knows his pop has picked up on it—the change. Had stopped asking him in the fields what his plans were going to be that evening, as though knowing he’d find his son on the porch or at the table, clicking keys until they spelt out a word. 

But, deep down, Javi knew his Ma would have said something—made a comment about it being a girl. Likely sat next to him, asked him if you were worth the trips to the store and the amount it was all costing him. 

He knew what he’d say if she were here to ask: yes. 

As much as the change is noticed, his pop says nothing. Just skirts around it, the Peña way. 

“You fancy coming with me tonight, Jav?” 

He asks him each week, even if the answer is always the same. A hopeful look simmering in his eyes, waiting. 

It makes him hate declining, hates having to summon a reason they both know is an excuse. Because even if he’s been here for years, they all still look at him like a hero. A celebrity. A walking statue they can all admire—talk to, and about. 

“Not tonight, Pop.” 

The nod he receives makes his stomach churn, guilt mixing with selfishness, wanting to explain—even if the two of them have had this conversation countless times. 

Just checked into my room. Guess who got an upgrade? 

He grins, eyes reading each word, feeling his stomach unknot, his chest flutter—all the while being aware there’s warmth spreading up to his ears. 

Texting you makes him feel like a teenager all over again. 

So much so, he forgets his pop is still there. Standing, hovering. Glancing up to find a knowing look, one he rather hates but doesn’t want to unpick.  

Not sure how too. 

Not sure what to even explain. 

“Hasta luego, hijo.”

nice, they do room service at this one Maybe. Gonna order so much food, charge the company.

Javi nods to no one, biting back a smile, the one desperate to show. Sliding the paper off the chair beside him as he lies it flat on the table, hearing the distinct sound of the front door shutting, the storm door following closely. 

Waiting, just like he did when he was younger, for the sound of the truck sparking to life. The crunch of gravel, and then, the noticeable silence. The one he welcomes—not that he always did. 

In the first months of being home, a mist would fall over him when his pop left. A loneliness that ebbed and flowed, him walking around the house, brushing past memories, hearing the whispers of ghosts from when they were a family of three and not two. It lessened as the months added up.

Am I too late for the crossword? 

Snorting, he bites his bottom lip.

He’s unsure at what point in their texting he should have told you that he waits for you. Not sure he has the words to explain that it’s become a thing for him, an extra pleasure in completing it. 

Javi waits until the sun truly sets, and the day tries to turn to the next. He’s even left it to the last minute—11:36 pm—hating that you even apologised for your day having derailed what has slowly become their tradition. 

just in time  Perfect. I’ve just put my order in. I am ready. Test me this time, okay? Stop going easy on me. 

Smirking, he releases a light laugh, fingers wiping across the hair above his lip, shaking his head in disbelief. Both in how you take it so seriously and how he likes it. 

It’s odd, strange—but there’s a lot he likes about you. Like how you challenge him and hold him accountable. Making his old instincts and his gut, both of which had rotted in ranch life, awaken all over again. 

In truth, he feels alive, thrumming—feeling warmth, seeing colours, expanding happiness flushing through him. It blows away all the eroding loneliness, shining and injecting light into the darkest corners of his soul—the parts wilted due to what-ifs and regrets. 

superheros home, 10 letters  I said test me.  I’m warming you up I’m plenty warm, Javi. You worry about yourself. It’s metropolis, the answer. 

His mouth slides to the side, pencil scratching at the paper. 

Crosswords end too quickly with you. Your brain is full of words, ones he knows are tucked away in his own, but they rise to the surface in yours. Come so quickly, called and answered.

Somedays, he swears it takes him a while even to welcome the day, never mind finding a word. 

It’s the truthful reason he began this in the first place. It helped that it wasn’t a risk. There was no real need to complete it (yet he always did). But in truth, he had felt the need to keep himself sharp. To work a mystery over, just one with no stakes, no actual losses. 

His life couldn't handle that now. His back twinged at the thought, a muscle tensing under the thoughts of Colombia. 

praises lavishly, 6 Javier. ha no it begins with e  Extols. howd you even know that  I read, Javi. I read. 

pop’s just asked me if I want to go to a bingo night 

I’m going to hazard a guess that you screamed yes, dressed so quickly you have headrush? 

obviously 

I’m cooking for my friend tonight.

Aish?

No. Different friend. 

a male friend

Jealous, are we? 

No, a colleague. She’s had a rough day. 

do you know how to cook or will I be finally seeing your face… on the news 

I know how to cook, sorry to disappoint you.

But I am impressed by your use of punctuation. 

I aim to please 

you awake 

I am. You good?

just can’t sleep

That happen a lot 

less recently, but yeah 

Tell me something, Javi 

what you wanna hear

Anything. 

I look forward to our texts all day

You need a hobby. 

maybe, but my statement still stands 

I do too. Don’t think I’d even reply to anyone else who woke me up at 1 am.

shit hermosa I didn’t mean to wake you 

I don’t mind. 

go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow 

No it’s okay, I want to talk to you. 

You ever seen Charmed? 

no whats that

Oh, Javi buckle your seatbelt. 

What do you even meaaan

I’ve never had it 

If we ever meet in person and I have a kitchen available, I’m making it you. 

yeah?

Yes. I know you were in Colombia, but you’re missing out.

you wanna meet me in person 

I mean, I do love second-guessing myself about if you are who you say you are. 

hilarious 

Of course, I do. 

Do you wanna meet me? 

more so now I’m gonna be be cooked for 

Now who’s being hilarious. 

Each bead of sweat which clusters at his waist, is rewarded with a gentle breeze. It sits, spreading patterns up his tee as it clings to his skin.

The warm, dry heat offers some relief, dancing amongst the tall grass. It rustles through the trees as he sticks the spade back into the soil, wiping his brow, allowing the yellow of his aviators to slide down the bridge of his nose—causing a contrast of lemon and natural lighting to flare across his gaze. 

Javi’s been at it for hours. Having set himself up before the sun really began spreading its fingers across Laredo.

Digging, shifting wooden posts into the newly created hole, before he’s filled it back up again. With each one he completes, he takes a second to pause. To lose himself to the whims of his mind—thoughts usually stuck on how much longer it’ll take, and now perpetually on you. 

What you’re doing. 

If you’re having a good day. 

He finds himself so lost in thoughts of you, that it doesn’t feel anything like what it has with others. Not close to drowning, but instead swimming. Moving with a current of his own making, drifting, feeling something other than mundane and boredom in his bones. 

He's also noticed how the texts and conversation are no longer strained and frayed—that he isn’t picking apart intention like he once was. That he gets you, reads you. Can almost hear your voice in the way you text him.

Before, he'd never have described his evenings as empty, but now he's busy—occupied. Doing something more than simply passing the time, actually looking forward to the time between the sun going down and the stars lighting the sky.

It's on the second stab into the ground that it hits him: he'd miss you if you stopped texting.

Having grown used to you—enjoys tuning into the evenings spent with you. 

He was never lonely in Colombia. A thought which has riddled him in the years since he’s been back. The goal—the job—kept him busy when his conquests couldn’t. How he had been focused on the many, the plans and the takedowns occupying all space that would allow for such things. 

But this is different. A different kind of busy—a nicer one. One he craves more than he should. 

“There were fresh flowers at your mamá's grave again.” 

Javi slams his foot on the shovel, forcing it down further, splitting the soil—letting it cut into the grass, the roots. Turning it up, choosing then to only lift his head to meet the stare waiting for him at the last second. 

Last month, he’d been able to shove it off.

He'd been able to blame the suspicions on anything but him. Javi realises how much harder that is going to be now—especially with the way his pop is leaning. How he begins tilting his hat up so he can see him clearer—just like when he was a boy. 

Pushing his shades up, Javi chews his cheek, standing straighter and straighter until he fills his lungs with air. Not speaking, choosing silence.

Kicking the dirt, his pop hooks his thumbs in the loops of his jeans. “Same flowers as before.”

“Hmm, nice.” 

It’s all he can muster. 

All he wants to, as well—desperate to continue digging. And, do so in silence. 

“I know it’s you, Jav. You don’t... Y'don't need to be secretive about seeing her.” 

“I’m not.” 

Even if he is. 

Has been.

It hadn't been intentional to go see her. It had begun absently, without real cause or reason.

When he first came back, there was a cause, a reason. A birthday, the holidays—times when his laid-down bouquet wasn’t alone. Guilt biting at him for all the times he didn't visit when he was away, and the times he put off in the months he was back.

Then, one day he turned down a road, and he found himself there, and so it began. Now the guilt has wilted, like the flowers he often replaces. Doing this thing he does when he heads into town.

And, it just so happens he’s been in town more often as of late. The phone—the one heavy in his back pocket—being the cause. His mouth purchasing more credit while his eyes admired the store's beautiful arrangements—ones adorned with the same flowers he’d grown up with in the centre of the dining table. 

“You’ve been smiling more, too.” 

“Pops, c’mon.”

He laughs—his dad laughs. “It’s nice, hijo. Nice seeing it. Hearing it. She work in town?”

Shaking his head, running a hand across his forehead, he mumbles a no. Pebbled sweat collected on his fingers, closing his eyes, willing the conversation to die before it got going. 

It never works, not with his pops. 

“Tell me about—“

“Papá, para.”

“—you can try and hide it, sat in the other room from me. But whoever she is, I like her.”

Smirking, he snorts, dropping his hand from his face. “You don’t know her. Fu—I don’t even know her, alright?” 

Shrugging, his pop stands from his lean, hand on one of the posts Javi had put up earlier. Wiggling it, testing it, brow raised in a way that screamed he was impressed. 

“That’s what time is for, Jav. Getting to know someone.” 

“Alright, Pop. Can I…? Please?” 

Waving him off, he tips his hat at him. Shooting him another smirk, a knowing one—another Peña trademark. 

Aish asked about you today. 

what did you tell her

That you’re very good at crosswords. 

you’re a tease. 

I aim to please. 

my pops knows I’m talking to you

Told him all about me, have you? I feel special.

you should feel special 

but not just because of that 

You’re flirting again.

I am

Charmer. 

do you dislike it? me flirting 

No. Not really. I like it.

that's good to know

Why?

means i can do it properly now

Is that so? Do I need to brace myself for Javi-flirting?

i would if i were you

an: yesssss, now let the menace texts begin.

next chapter ->

[ananke-xiii]

Although I mainly see the first six episodes of s13 as an engaging portrayal of two grief-stricken people lacking the tools to deal with what has happened to them, I can also totally see them as the so-called "widower arc". Two things can be true at the same time because yes, Dean was totally grieving Cas' death. But I'll make it worse for you.

Maybe I'm biased by the many times I've read the term "widower arc" but Dean was 100% looking for a consort in Cas in s12 (yes, "consort", I'm tired of "partner" or "boy/girlfriend", they're weak terms, give me "sharing destiny" type of old words) so I think this interpretation is not so far-fetched.

We have a grieving widow(er), a desired consort who's dead and then resurrects and a son who's been defined as "the rising son". As I've already said these are some of the elements of one of the most ancient myths in Western culture, that is the myth of Isis and Osiris.

Now, of course it was not a retelling of that myth, I don't even think it was a conscious effort to shape the story that way but sometimes symbols will be symbols, what can you do?

First of all, two brothers: Set and Osiris and Lucifer and Cas. We know how it goes, one brother kills the other (As an aside in one version Set built a wooden chest and tricked Osiris to enter into it just to seal it and drown it in the Nile. We have totally NEVER seen this image in Supernatural. Not even ONCE).

Things get very interesting from here on because in the myth there's a lot of focus on the body of the deceased brother, Osiris/Cas. The most famous way Set disposed of his brother's corpse was to cut it into pieces, to... tear him apart if you will. It is then kinda WILD that AU!Michael kills "his" Lucifer the same way:

MIchael: I killed my Lucifer. Tore him apart in the skies over Abilene. But hey, can’t get enough of a good thing.

Apparently, the body must be somehow intact for resurrection to happen. In the myth Isis has to find his husband's bodyparts scattered all over Egypt in order to resurrect him. So we need to pay extra close attention to Cas' body which we are actually shown in that tragic scene where Dean prepares him for the pyre. So it's Dean who takes care of Cas' body, who "collects" it, just like Isis. Interesting.

In SPN "What gets burned stays dead", therefore Cas cannot resurrect, or so they think. The mantra is repeated by Jack in "Tombstone" when he first sees his father. To be honest, we don't really know how Cas resurrects. For the first time we see what happens to him between death and rebirth but we miss the technicalities. We can only assume that Cas' ashes were enough. Or maybe, just maybe, that's just a rule that applies in Chuck's story. Just saying.

I'm not sure if they try to discover how Jack managed to do that but the point remains: it was Jack who woke Cas up in the Empty.

And why did he do that? Well, because he can. The very first thing that Jack does is resurrecting Kelly in an episode aptly named "The Future", where Jack is sort of introduced via his mother's resurrection. He doesn't know how to use this power but he unconsciously does it again with his father. And I ask again: why?

Jack wakes Cas up in "The Big Empty", four episodes into the season. He could've done it sooner? No. Because what prompts him to unconsciously act is Dean's grief. And Dean reaches his boiling point when Sam finally provokes him. Osiris/Cas dies and his consort Isis/Dean is inconsolable. Other people like Sam can forget about it, but Dean can't in every sense of the verb.

In the myth it's Isis who resurrects Osiris and has a child, Horus, with him. But she got help. Dean's only human but there is a demi-god running around in his bunker so I think that helped. And Cas must be credited for the effort and the pushing.

Let's just say that resurrecting Castiel took three, actually four people okay? It required a team effort. Because none of them is a fully-fledged god like God or Amara or some Archangel who can just snap their fingers and boom welcome back to Life. Coaxing someone into resurrection (a resurrection with consent) takes a lot of willpower... and a lot of love.

I said four people because the last character in this little story is The Shadow. And we see this in the myth as well!

Isis doesn't "just" resurrect Osiris, she has to convince the motherfucker. Cause, you see, Osiris's heart was tired. A tired heart! Oh so beautiful! He didn't see the reason to go back to life. He was sooo tired. Isis has to literally seduce him back to life. And... this is kind of what The Shadow does, but in reverse? It tells Castiel to go back to sleep, to find peace, it's been in his mind and he wants to sleep, it knows!

The Shadow is Cas' tiredness, all his failures and regrets. But, as I said, it takes a lot of willpower and a lot of love to resurrect the dead, this is what Isis teaches us actually. To love more and then some more. And Cas loves back and he loves hard.

Castiel: You can prance and you can preen and you can scream and yell and remind me of my failings but somehow, I’m awake. And I will stay awake and I will keep you awake until we both go insane. I will fight you. Fight you and fight you for…ever. For eternity.

He didn't come back because he annoyed an ancient cosmic being. He came back because he loved.

So Osiris/Cas are back to life and that's good, right? Well... yeahhh. The thing is that Osiris will then live in the world of the dead so he kinda doesn't really really stay alive for long. And Isis will follow him. Things will likely go bad for Cas.

But the story continues!

Set/Lucifer and Horus/Jack engage in a rather disturbing (in the myth) struggle for power. The myth has different endings: in one they reconcile, in another they divide the realm, in yet another one Horus is the one true winner. So we don't really know (from this point in the narrative) how things will actually turn out for the two of them.

Isn't it interesting? Well, it's not surprising because there is a connection between christian stories and greek and egyptian ones but still? Kinda cool to see how myths keep repeating and repeating. As if we're still trying to understand them.

Anyway: yes to the widower arc, yes to love piercing through the veil of death. Both ways! It takes the love of two to resurrect.

[downtherabbithole-tumbleedition]

Ok so this one a little different but I wanted to see what you can do with it

Can I request a yandere alduin x reborn Dragon Born reader x yandere playtonic pryox

So the reader was alduin mate and pyrax little sister ( i can not remember how to spell that Dragon name the one that on the throat of the world with the Gray beards) but during the war she was killed but she reborn as a dragon born and not only that but got married. And pyrax is torn on helping his sister and joining alduin.

And reader not happy with them and she married a Dragon Slayer

Blood in the Water (Yandere! Alduin x Reader x Platonic Yandere! Paarthurnax)

“We’ll never get free

Lamb to the slaughter

What you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water?

The price of your greed, is your son and your daughter

What you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water?”

- Blood // Water, granson

Paarthurnax knew you.

The dragon had always been told that he read too much into others, searching for things that weren’t there - trying to gain a better understanding of someone by peering into their soul. Well, he liked to believe he could.

But you were different, he knew you. From the moment you climbed his mountain, your very soul spoke to his; like a flicker of fire light after trudging through an endless snowstorm.

This must be a malicious plot, he told himself, remaining guarded with his icy gaze even as he longed to approach you with all the gentleness of the world. Perhaps the Greybeards had decided it was time for Paarthurnax to pay his dues, or the Blades had finally gotten to him… anything would be more plausible than her soul returning.

“Why have you intruded on my solitude, mortal?” He questioned harshly, your shocked and fearful gaze almost making him regret it.

Still, you were able to catch your bearings and face him - something most mortals would not do. “The Greybeards sent me. I am the Dragonborn.”

Ah… perhaps this was Akatosh’s way of punishing Paarthurnax for his misdeeds.

Although Akatosh often did not play by his own rules, there were usually only two ways for a Dragonborn to be birthed into existence: a dragon and a human breeding, or the soul of deceased dragon being reborn into a human.

He shouldn’t have been surprised, not when he really thought about it. Whilst it was unlikely for you to be reborn - what will millions of other dragons who could have been reincarnated - but out of every dragon he had ever met, of course it was you. Dragons could only be reborn because their souls were made of far sturdier stuff than mortals, the very substance refusing to dissipate. And you had the strongest soul of all.

Strong enough to put up with Alduin, after all.

Alduin, the very thought brought unrest to Paarthurnax’s stomach, his insides squirming at the idea of Alduin knowing of your return.

By all rights, Paarthurnax was supposed to help the Dragonborn - you - defeat Alduin and stop the dragons from once again taking over the world. Alduin and his subordinates would give Paarthurnax Oblivion, of course, fighting fang and claw to have the Dragonborn’s head on a pike. But the Dragonborn was a larger threat to most dragons than they were to the Dragonborn, very few having the ability to stand against them. With enough training, perhaps the Dragonborn even stood a chance at defeating Alduin, especially if they wanted to see another day.

However, if you really were her, well… that complicated everything.

Alduin had always ruled with an iron claw, leaving the mortals alive only out of necessity and sinister amusement. His tyranny was not reserved for mortals, either, even the dragons themselves fearing Alduin’s wrath. After all, if he grew tired of the world, he could simply destroy it.

But even Paarthurnax had feared Alduin after your death.

Alduin had always enjoyed ruling, conquering, entertaining the idea for centuries rather than destroying the world and allowing birth for a new one. But when you’d been killed, it was like the dragon stopped caring - as if any emotion aside rage had been beaten out of him. Alduin decided to destroy the world because his had been taken from him.

You, however, had always been kinder - far kinder than an average dragon. No one really knew why, perhaps it was because Paarthurnax and, eventually, Alduin had always shielded you from the world. As the World Eater’s mate, you weren’t expected to lift a claw.

It had been heartbreaking when you discovered just how much Alduin (and Paarthurnax, although he tried to forget that) terrorised the mortals. You just couldn’t understand why Alduin - your Alduin, who always showed you nothing but kindness - would inflict such horrors on those who could not fight back. That was the start of Paarthurnax’s guilt.

You begged Alduin to stop and, because it was you, he compromised - allowing the mortals to exist without being burned down at every move. But some of those mortals took Alduin’s mercy for weakness and formed the building blocks for the revolution.

A revolution where you had been killed.

Paarthurnax almost wanted to side with Alduin after watching you, one of the only dragons who gave a damn, be killed. But, in your dying breaths, you begged Paarthurnax not to fall with Alduin into vengeance. After all, why should all the mortals be blamed for the act of few?

For you, Paarthurnax helped the mortals and ceased the end of the world, dreading the day Alduin would return.

But now you and Alduin were both back and, for once, Paarthurnax had no idea what the outcome would be.

“Have you encountered the World Eater, Dovahkin?”

“I haven’t,” you replied, as he thought; if Alduin had found you before Paarthurnax, you’d never be allowed to stray from the World Eater’s grasp.

Paarthurnax sent you on a “quest” then, to “prove your worth and skill”. In reality, he needed time to think, to gather the thoughts racing through his mind and figure out what he planned to do. It was also to get you away from the throat of the world because Paarthurnax had a strong feeling he would be paid a visit from Alduin.

He was proven right when the black dragon landed on his mountain, quiet anger radiating from his scales.

“The word is true, then. You have returned,” Paarthurnax mused, trying his very best to mask the wariness that was etched in his veins. The ancient tongue felt good, like an old friend he hadn’t spoken to in centuries. He had missed having dragons to communicate with.

“Where is she?” Alduin demanded immediately, voice as commanding and ferocious as Paarthurnax remembered. He didn’t have the strongest thumm for nothing.

“I am unsure what you mean, brother.”

Alduin growled, a warning no doubt. “I am not in a gaming mood. Tell me where my mate is, Paarthurnax.”

“What would make you think she has returned?” Paarthurnax asked casually, the lie easily rolling off his tongue. “She died with the war.”

Paarthurnax knew he was poking a hungry, vengeful bear but, if it meant keeping Alduin off your trail, he would make that sacrifice.

“Cease your treacherous lies, her soul calls to mine. I can feel her very essence. If you do not reveal her presence to me, Skyrim shall burn.”

Well, Paarthurnax would lose no sleep over that. Not if it meant your well-being. You were far more precious than the whole world.

Eventually, Alduin left after his fire clashed against Paarthurnax’s, the throat of the world fortunately remaining upright. Now, Paathurnax just had to pray to Akatosh that you stayed far from Alduin’s reach.

——

Vilkas wrapped his arms around you as your back sunk into his strong chest, nuzzled in his warmth and the comfort of the thick blankets. He placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, making a smile grace your face - the crackling of the fire lulling you to sleep.

“You frightened me today,” he said gently, nose resting in your hair.

“How so?” You replied tiredly, eyes still shut.

“You went into that cave all by yourself and I though…” he sighed. “I thought I lost you.”

You turned your head to look at him then, an almost amused smile on your lips. “You know I can handle a dungeon, right?”

He should have known that, considering the many times you, he, and Farkas explored the deep crevices of Skyrim together. Fighting tooth and nail against the Silver Hand to bring safety and glory to the Companions.

Of course, that was a different life.

“I am allowed to worry about you,” he defended, almost pouting, wrapping his hand gently in your hair. “This Dragonborn stuff… it is not easy, or safe. I want you to be safe.”

You practically shrugged. “I still believe it was mistake.”

He sighed again, tired of already having this conversation a million times. “It was my no mistake, my love. You absorbed the dragon’s soul.”

“And you killed it.”

The Companions had been a home for both of you, especially Vilkas. But he had found a new home with you, one where he didn’t feel the need to constantly fight and kill. For you, he left the companions.

You’d tried to convince him to renounce his wolf form too, explaining that he did not need to live with the constant hunger and bloodlust. He said he would, one day, but he was scared to be vulnerable - especially when he’d left all he knew. You let the matter drop, giving him time to adjust.

You had been accepted into the Companion’s inner circle, given the opportunity to take the wolf form and transcend mortality.

It didn’t work.

Almost immediately, your body burned, forcing the blood from your lungs, coughing it up as if you were drowning. You had passed out and were sick for nearly a week, as if your body simply refused to change its form.

Vilkas had been in charge of nursing you back to health then, and the two of you quickly fell for each other.

At least you were finally given an explanation; the dragon in you denying any other form of blood or soul that would change you.

Regardless of what did or did not happen, Vilkas left the companions and, although he already had an abundance of money saved up (enough to let the two of you live comfortably for the rest of your lives), he became a hunter. Or, more specifically with what had happened to the world, a dragon hunter.

The return of dragons had been daunting for everyone, but not Vilkas. He saw people cowering in fear and found it in his heart to help them, even at the risk of his own life.

You were just there at the right place and right time (or wrong place, wrong time, depending on how you looked at it) and, suddenly, you were the Dragonborn. The person destined to stop the end of the world.

It should have been Vilkas - he was the one he wasn’t afraid of the beasts, who could slay them without so much as a bat of an eye. Perhaps you were strong - even compassionate in the right circumstances - but, selfishly, you did not want the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You did not want to have to face the World Eater.

Paarthurnax had been frightening enough, and he didn’t even want to kill you. How in the divine’s name were you supposed to defeat Alduin? Perhaps that was it - the divines had given up on this world, deciding to mock the chance of survival by throwing them a useless Dragonborn.

“It should have been you,” you often whispered to Vilkas, in the dark of the night when your false bravado left you and only the insecurities remained.

“I will be with you every step of the way,” he would always reply without fail, gently placing a kiss on your skin and holding you close.

You wished he hadn’t promised such a thing because, as you stood in the snow shivering to the bone with a ginormous black dragon flying above you, all you could think of was Vilkas’ safety.

Paarthurnax told you that the secret to defeating Alduin would lie within the Elder Scroll, which was located in the outskirts of Skyrim where no one dared to venture.

So how had Alduin found you? Was he not supposed to be eating the world?

Perhaps Alduin found you unassuming, weak even, because his fire was targeted solely at Vilkas, the nord panting from the constant dodges.

However, one thing you knew you were skilled at was archery.

Your hands shook from the cold and the fear coursing through you, but you did your very best to hold the bow steady, shutting one eye to gain a better perspective on where the arrow would it. You released the string, a flicker of pride running through when it hit its target.

Of course, that was snuffed out when Alduin’s furious red gaze shot to you.

Vilkas yelled out your name, warning you to move as the dragon approached you faster than you thought possible. In a flash, a claw closed around you and your world turned black.

——

Dragons mate for life.

Alduin always believed the sentiment to be stupid, preferring to mount and fuck whoever he deemed worthy. There was no need to risk his own convenience and concern for the sake of attachment.

But then there was you.

Paarthurnax had always had far too much mercy for a dragon, practically allowing his emotions to rule him. Even so, no one expected him to take a younger, abandoned dragon under his wing.

Without even being seen by most, you had become a common conversation topic - none of which was flattering. From what Alduin had heard, you were the runt of the litter, by all means. Abandoned for your inability to grow. Paarthurnax kept you shielded from the words, and even sharper teeth, of the dragon world.

It wasn't until about half a century later when Alduin first saw you - when, under Paarthurnax's mentorship, had you become fully fledged dovah. The spark was instantaneous, Alduin immediately filled with a possessiveness he had never before experienced.

You were his at first sight - nothing Paarthurnax or anyone else did would change that.

And you really were the most captivating creature Alduin had ever met; filled to the brim with life and excitement and curiosity. Perhaps he didn't show it very much but you held his beating heart in your claws, and he was willing to risk that so long as you stayed his. And you did - you were lovely, and extraordinary, and his.

Until you weren't.

Alduin was used to anger. He had felt and understood rage, the need for vengeance. But he never thought he'd experience sorrow - he had always mocked those who felt such a thing, claiming it was a weak emotion that a true dovah would never feel. But then you had been stolen him and his heart hurt.

Ruling had always satisfied him, enjoying every being bowing to him in fear and awe - his ability to do so was the only reason he never ate the world... until there was you, of course.

The world - or at least those who understood what being the World Eater entailed - took a breath of relief when he mated with you; finally the World Eater had something to tie him down, to make him want to keep the world turning.

But then you had been murdered by those mortal scum and Alduin decided that if he couldn't have you, the rest of the world wasn't permitted to live.

However, it seemed Paarthurnax never truly cared for you, disrespecting you and your memory by siding with the mortals and sending Alduin into a time loop.

When he first returned, Alduin was filled with rage, preparing himself to hunt Paarthurnax down and kill the traitor. But then he felt it - felt you. Your soul - as long as it had been - called to his, begging him to find you.

And find you he did, even if you were in the clutches of some mortal half-breed bastard.

It didn't matter; if the World Eater wanted something, he took it. Even if you were kicking and screaming.

----

I'm so sorry that took so long, and the abrupt ending. This was mostly just set up but I'm actually really interested in this concept so, don't worry, there's gonna be a part two! Thanks for reading and I hope to see you there.

[can-of-w0rmz]

One of the things that piss me off the absolute most about popular academic Frankenstein analysis is the “Victor Frankenstein is sexist” take. Like I know I’ve spoken about this quite a lot before but god damn it’s like people just look at the text and see, “(I) looked upon Elizabeth as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her I received as made to a possession of my own.”, and they just immediately go, “Oh! Oh! Sexism! Misogyny! Victor Frankenstein is a sexist! Why does he want to create the perfect man, huh? *gasp* is it because he thinks women are inferior?”

When if those people pulled their heads out of their asses for five minutes and read the rest of that paragraph, “On the evening previous to her being brought to my home, my mother had said playfully, “I have a pretty present for my Victor—tomorrow he shall have it.” And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth as mine (…)” along with the fact that Victor explicitly says he was “about five years old”, they’d maybe consider, “huh, maybe it’s very fucked up of a mother to give her to her son as a gift and spent her entire life basically shipping these two adopted siblings together until, on her death bed, she says, “my firmest hopes of future happiness were placed on the prospect of your union. This expectation will now be the consolation of your father.” Wow, maybe that’s kind of fucked up. Maybe painting, again, a five year old, who was honesty for all intents and purposes pretty much just manipulated into thinking it was his duty to marry his adopted sister out of respect for his dead mother’s last wishes who died when he was seventeen, as a wife-beating woman hater who reanimated the dead to spite half the human population, is very very fucked up!”

Like I can’t stress this enough – both Elizabeth and Victor are victims here. Of course as the story goes on a bit and Victor is a grown adult man who’s still avoiding his feelings and fucking off across the continent with his buddy pal best friend every five minutes instead of facing his mistakes and emotions, yeah, he is honestly more or less to blame for Elizabeth’s death, but that isn’t misogyny. Avoidance of everything is like one of his integral character flaws.

And I mean if you thought the 1831 republication had some creepy undertones, look at the bloody original 1818 version.

“(My uncle) request(ed) my father (…) take charge of the infant Elizabeth, the only child of his deceased sister. “It is my wish,” he said, “that you should consider her as your own daughter, and educate her thus.”’

So just explicit incest, basically. And again, if you thought Victor’s mother was a bit creepy and pushy in the republication,

“I have often heard my mother say, that she was at that time the most beautiful child she had ever seen, and shewed signs even then of a gentle and affectionate disposition. These indications, and a desire to bind as closely as possible the ties of domestic love, determined my mother to consider Elizabeth as my future wife; a design which she never found reason to repent.”

“………A desire to bind as closely as possible the ties of domestic love?” My brother in Christ you were groomed. Fun fact, I read the 1818 version first and read that in the middle of form class and sat for a good five minutes staring flabbergasted at what the fuck I was reading.

So no, dear God no, nowhere in the text does it imply Victor Frankenstein hates women. I mean honestly it’s kind of shown in the way he talks about the Creature’s Bride that he doesn’t view women as objects and does, in fact, view them as people.

“He had sworn to quit the neighbourhood of man and hide himself in deserts, but she had not; and she, who in all probability was to become a thinking and reasoning animal, might refuse to comply with a compact made before her creation.”

My guy basically says “well what are we expecting her to do here, immediately marry you just because she was told to?”

(Just a fun little comparison I noticed there – not to turn the conversation back to my whole “does Victor is gay” theory but I think it is interesting that Victor thinks that, that he does go “well she can’t just be expected to marry someone just because she was told to!” and then suggests to himself that she would probably rather “turn with disgust from him to the superior beauty of man” – interesting, Victor. Like Clerval’s “form so divinely wrought, and beaming with beauty”? Interesting as well that after Victor comes to that conclusion and destroys the Bride, the Creature immediately then kills Henry and only then does Victor finally go “well. I finally have to marry Elizabeth.” Feeling disheartened by sparing her your predicament only to be thrust even deeper into your own, are we?)

But yeah. “Victor Frankenstein is a full-blown women-hating misogynist” takes really piss me off. Another case of “oooh yes let’s cherry pick the text scouring it for anything we can possibly use to turn things back around to the same few analysis points we’ll reuse over and over instead of possibly considering that just because a text is written by a woman doesn’t mean that it’s a massive rant on the patriarchy disguised as a science fiction novel.”

Maybe that’s kind of sexist itself. Maybe women can just write kick-ass gothic horror sometimes. And maybe just because a work definitely has undertones about sexism and misogyny (like, fair enough, a lot of Elizabeth’s character definitely does) that doesn’t mean that the male protagonist wants to kill all women! And surprise surprise as well, works can comment on misogyny and patriarchy and acknowledge that women are treated badly in society and have been in differing ways for hundreds of years, without going “all men are inherently evil and fuck them all”. Bit of a side rant that I won’t go all into here, but just worth mentioning that after seeing this over and over again in media and analysis of media over and over again, hey, misandry won’t fix misogyny. It just makes everything considerably stupidly worse. –your friendly neighbourhood bisexual

[b0rtney]

you want homosexuals in every conceivable scenario?

Boy oh boy do i have the substack for u: mine!

NO PLEASE LEMME TELL U THE STORIES BEFORE U LEAVE--

Current is Cinnamon Muffins. TLDR: Six queer boys in a homophobic tiny town in Iowa are trying to survive winter break dodging awful parents, social stigma, and mental health crises.

Next up is How to Get Away with Marriage. TLDR: Guy with awful, religious parents marries guy who is living paycheck to paycheck so they can both get all their younger sisters out of their shitty situations (but they fall in love ofc).

Longer desc of these plus the stories coming in the next months are below the cut! (Genres include fantasy, sci-fi, dystopian, mystery/thriller, coming-of-age)

Cinnamon Muffins centers on Taylor Macready, a homeless senior in high school holed up in a sleeping bag under a bridge after his parents kicked him out. He's fully ready to just accept death when it starts snowing on him while he's stargazing, but social outcast Wes Post is taking his nightly walk in a new direction and stumbles (literally) on his longtime crush, Taylor. Dragging Taylor home, Wes's parents prove themselves the only reasonable parents in this book by setting Taylor up on their pullout couch and nursing him back to health. Then Wes, whose closest school relationships include the kids who bully him for his anxiety-related speech impediment, has to get in touch with Taylor's friends to let them know the situation. Meanwhile, the mean girls of Swisher High School are starting a campaign to get homosexuality banned at school. Administratively, it gets nowhere, but it inspires several small-minded shitwads to take matters into their own hands. While Taylor is used to getting into fights, Wes isn't, but he'll have to sink or swim, because the teachers are not paid enough to care what happens in the hallways during lunchtime.

How to Get Away with Marriage opens with Luke Providence, son of a devoutly Baptist family in Nebraska, proposing to Patrick Demden, son of a recently-deceased alcoholic mechanic. The wealthy Providence parents have a longstanding agreement that once their children get married, they will receive a trust of $100,000 to use on the down-payment of a house and to start a life with their spouse. Patrick's younger sister tutors Luke's younger sister, but Patrick's sister is 16. This age gap doesn't matter much to the Providence parents, but it matters a lot to Luke, so he strikes a deal with Patrick: tell the parents he'll marry the sister, legally marry the brother, everyone gets to move to Colorado and escape abusive religious parents and crushing poverty. He needn't have done something so elaborate, Patrick would have married him for any reason at all. But the secret doesn't stay secret forever, and the Providence parents eventually come knocking, trying to recollect their children and their money.

Future stories I'll keep shorter, but feel free to ask about them either in the replies or my askbox and I'll elaborate!

Assassin x Demon King will be getting books 2 and 3! ADK is about an assassin and the king he was supposed to kill, both of whom have quit their jobs and started trying to save as many people as the assassin killed before he dies of a slow-acting poison in twelve months. Books 2 and 3 will have things getting awfully tragic and somewhat more horny than before! (No smut will make it into the print versions of these, that will remain on my substack alone)

How to Find Your Friends After the End of the World is a fantasy inspired by the isekai anime genre. Five friends in their 20s are on earth as it is wracked by a violent battle between the Heroine of the Gods and her Nemesis, and then, suddenly, they aren't. Earth has been destroyed and they are now on a new planet, in new (non-human) bodies, strewn across continents! On their new wrists, they have tattoos with each others' names, plus one (or two) new ones: their soulmates. Court politics and wastelands of monsters await them as they try desperately to reach each other, and their soulmates try desperately to reach them.

HtFYF will also have a prequel, focusing on the events that led to earth's destruction, and the battle between the Heroine of the Gods, a young woman, and her Nemesis, who seems to know more about the gods than she says. Why do the gods keep choosing such young heroes? What has the Nemesis done to put the world in such peril? Will the Heroine get to graduate on time despite the sleep she's been missing!?

The following do not yet have titles, but are fully fleshed out works ready to be thrown onto Substack:

A trilogy of eleven teens assisting in the fight against an agency that traffics, tortures, and then sells children with preternatural powers and abilities, and an exploration of the trauma those kids emerge with.

A murder mystery where a woman's sister dies, the police rule it suicide, and the woman enlists the help of a rumored contract killer to help her solve the murder-- but why does this rumored murderer-for-hire seem to know so much about her sister's death? And who was truly responsible?

A campy novel about a woman who graduates college, goes back to her hometown, and finds her highschool crush is still there, still single, and has since come out as gay. Of course, the only solution is to co-adopt an at-risk child from a neighbor.

This post will remain pinned on my profile, but for the next few days I'm having a sale on my substack tiers-- 20% off! That makes the cost to you just $8 per month to get a chapter every other day. 15 chapters for $8; that's a steal!

[pineapplehazard]

Just finished s7!!! Right on time✨

Now did I cry when Eddie said goodbye to Chris? Yes, yes I did.

But here's my thoughts about the last two episodes:

- Eddie Diaz : the whole thing with Kim was actually crazy of him, but her playing Shannon?? That man has a reason to act like a mad man but girl what are YOU doing?? That was a quick expedition out for Marisol too, Buck and him see to have a way to make girlfriends disappear this season.

- Chris Diaz : valid. I get why he thinks it's better for him to be away from his father for some time, it's probably a good thing actually for them to have space to breath and accept what happened. But the Diaz parents?? Ramon shit talking about Shannon every chances he's giving (he literally did it at her funeral that man has no shame), and Helena acting like she just won lottery, please at least ACT like you're not happy to take Chris from you son. Honestly if my own mom wasn't sitting right next to me I would have been insulting both of them so MUCH.

- Hen Wilson : I'm mad that they were all going to be happy and then that woman whose son hasn't been mentioned since like ep2? comes to take her revenge out of nowhere. When I saw Mara all closed on herself and quiet when Hen visited her that broke my heart😭 then at the end the emotional whiplash of Chris leaving, instantly followed by the Wilsons getting reunited with Mara, ouch (is it like 'a soul for a soul' but with family, like they CANNOT be happy at the same time??), also I know the plot was for Gerrard to come back, but I love Captain Wilson, and I wanted her to take after Bobby

- Chimney and Maddie: they're relatively absent from the final 2 eps so I don't have much to say, I loved Chimney calling Gerrard trash to his face, and I loved Maddie. I just love Maddie.

- Buck : such a good husband for his chaotic dating-the-doppelganger-of-his-deceased-ex husband... He was just so supportive and trying to help, gosh he's just so cute. But MORE IMPORTANTLY where's my angst?? You're telling me Bobby's in a coma, and all we got from Buck (who's basically his son) is one line of dialog AFTER we know Bobby's going to be alright? Sentence immediately followed by an awkward sex joke argh!! My favorite thing about 911 is Bobby and Buck's relationship and I don't know if it's just an impression but i feel like they barely had any interaction this season, I missed them, I need more of them!! Also all things considered Buck had quite a quiet and calm season, which does feel weird and not something that will stick

- Athena : she mentioned Emmett and I was just woop crying incoming! I'm not gonna dwell on the whole cartel thing, I'm sure people already express so many opinions on this, my real question is how many times can Athena break rules before getting a problem with the hierarchy? (ik she did in s1, but since then she's been pulling some sketchy moves from time to time with no problems afterwards). Also ik the house was going to burn but I hadn't thought of the implications, that they would loose all the memories and stuff and that's so sad, I totally get her panic about wanting to get everything that's on her phone to still have SOMETHING.

-Bobby : please bobby never leave the 118, maybe they could handle it but I couldn't, so please don't leave ever.

(-Tommy : whether you ship them or not, the last scene we got of them together (dinner at Buck's) should start an alarm in your brain about their future together, specially once you consider Gerrard's come back. Tommy literally says that Gerrard's the closest things he got to a father figure when he was in the 118, and that it didn't help him be a better person. (ik he's not saying he saw Gerrard the way Buck see Bobby but he still acknowledge that he saw him as a model of some sort), that's the online line 'acknowledging' Tommy's past actions, but also showing that he followed Gerrard's lead, and we know Buck is not going to appreciate Gerrard's way of leading and this definitely could be a big cause of conflict between Buck and Tommy...)

It feels weird to finally be up to date, and to know killer bees will attack LA in two days😭

I FORGOT RAVI!!

He was there for 3seconds but still, I was so happy seeing him, and ik so far it doesn't seem he'll be back in s8 for some time, so I'm devastated

[murderluv23]

Time to give my Lucifer's son headcanons because they've been stewing in my head for years and now having solid material for canon everything can be fresh and consistent. No. I don't have self control. Let's go.

He's shorter than Lucifer. Like just below his shoulder.

Right now, banking on his name being Azazel. (Can change, though.)

Azazel is far more stoic and stern than both Lucifer and Charlie.

Most people are terrified of him due to his unreadable expression and general quiet nature.

Plus this freakish thing he does with his eyes where they go all black and he stares coldly ahead. It makes people feel like their heart is being swallowed by a black hole. He's silent and frozen to the spot every time and so are the people who have the misfortune of seeing it.

Azazel has the "family red cheeks" and is the spitting image of Lucifer. People mistake him for his father all the time and can only tell the difference from the fact Azazel is smaller.

And the dark circles. Azazel constantly has dark circles under his eyes and wearing a frown. He is consistently stressed and overworked.

Azazel takes the duties to his family and Hell very seriously. He refuses to budge on it.

Azazel was the golden boy of the family.

Despite his moodiness, him and Lucifer have always gotten along.

Lucifer has been frightened of interacting with Azazel. Like he freaks out with Charlie. Surprise, surprise he's a mess. But it's more due to how strict he is.

Lucifer doted on Azazel since he was a baby and gave him a lot of attention. He had him on his lap to exhaustion. To the point he panicked and thought he lost his only son if he couldn't see him there.

Spoilers: He was either on Lucifer's back or with Lilith.

Lucifer showered Azazel with fatherly kisses whenever he "found" him.

Azazel kept Lucifer's first ever made duck and refused to go anywhere without it. Azazel still has it and keeps it on his person.

Fuck around and find out by trying to take it or damage it. Go ahead.

Azazel crafted himself a duck onesie to wear when he was younger and rushed to Lucifer to show him. Saying and I quote "This duckie you made was perfect".

Lucifer was deceased for like two weeks minimum. He couldn't function. He had to be moved manually. Calls to Lilith were either dead silence with Lucifer staring at the ceiling or Lucifer crying and squealing incoherently about it. Lilith's and Charlie's phone were blown up with countless photos of Azazel with edits of anything cutesy he could find.

Azazel spent most of it in his onesie and sitting on Lucifer's chest to make sure he wasn't dead.

Azazel struggles with depression and paranoia.

Lucifer took it upon himself to pacify him every time.

They had a close relationship but Lucifer had difficulty touching Azazel because he would freak out via violent demonic outbursts because of Azazel's difficulty with conceptualizing anyone approaching him for affection rather than danger. Lucifer going for a hug or any simple touch was an uphill battle of trial and error.

Lucifer had to craft things that trained Azazel's responses to understand the situation. Lucifer had little polkadotted bean bags in his hands and made them visible so Azazel understood he was going for a hug and there was no danger.

This was after countless times Lucifer had to just slowly inch towards Azazel before he got a positive response and Azazel came to hug him on his own accord.

Azazel had breakdowns bad enough to shake all of Hell. Most of them happened due to Charlie.

Lucifer was quick to go in the danger zone to sooth him after asking Charlie what she did that time.

"Whoa! That was close! Have you been practicing, sweetie? That's so great. Hahaha."- Lucifer, after dodging countless knives and angel spears Azazel aimed every which way at him, including his head.

Azazel always was in a ball crying his eyes out in Lucifer's arms after ages of him destroying everything.

Azazel hasn't cried since he was little.

Azazel can travel through dimensions and provides knowledge to humanity. It's a role he plays.

Azazel can shapeshift into anything. But he has a wolf form with a snake tail.

Lucifer has described Azazel as sweet as a puppy, both as a pun and because he genuinely finds his son to be a sweetheart. No one believes him. That boy has never cracked a smile in front of anyone.

Azazel genuinely wishes the best for his father and does everything he does because he's seen how the years have weighed on him.

Azazel is loyal to a fault and does everything within his power just to make Lucifer happy. That includes workload.

Lucifer regrets how some of his habits as a parent has made Azazel so overly disciplined and serious.

Azazel and Charlie have a strained relationship. Really strained.

Azazel believes the Hazbin Hotel is childish and shaming their family. While also giving Lucifer unnecessary stress. Azazel doesn't appreciate Charlie calling Lucifer to ramble about her playing in a sandbox.

Charlie, when asked about her younger brother, says he creeps her out. Majorly. Like- The Shining twins level of creeps her out.

Him possibly entering the Hazbin Hotel is her worst nightmare.

Basically, Azazel is like what people expected Lucifer to be like.

Azazel is highly polite in speech and mannerisms. But that is just more nerve wracking

There's always this air of "if you have one eyelash out of place, you're dead".

Charlie still has her people pleasing attitude with him. In fact, she doubles down.

Unfortunately, Azazel is never amused and sees through any attempts to pacify him. He's short and cold as ice.

Charlie can't comprehend why, despite them being siblings, Azazel feels like a stranger who couldn't care less is some random demon ate her or something. As long as it didn't inconvenience their father.

Azazel and Charlie never sat down for a conversation when they were younger.

Charlie has only seen Lucifer doting on him from afar.

Azazel resents Charlie for how she's treated him.

Azazel is a teen.

Azazel shares musical talent with his family.

Lucifer says he has a phenomenal voice and encourages him to actually get into singing and dancing. But Azazel always turned it down out of shame.

Lucifer always sung Azazel lullabies. Especially when he had nightmares and cried for him.

Lucifer still does. What? He wants his baby boy to get good sleep. He won't do it himself.

Azazel acquired his talent for singing through memorizing Lucifer's tones when he sung him to sleep.

Azazel hums his favorite lullaby from Lucifer to calm himself.

Azazel's favorite food is macarons and chocolate cakes. Though he doesn't eat them because they are unhealthy.

Lucifer spoiled him with them when he was small.

Azazel loves teas. So long as they are plain or natural without any sugars or added things.

Azazel believes Charlie is fake.

Azazel exclusively calls his sister Charlotte.