#or keeps reflecting on his past mistakes and how it cost him his child and how bruce will fail jason again

[ririazulreblogsart]

been thinking a lot about anticipatory grief lately. i love you so much that i know losing you will devastate me. i haven't lost you yet but i already miss you. we still have time, but it won't be enough. i think about what i would say at your funeral, and say some of it to you now cause i need you to know how loved you are before you go. you will go where i cannot follow, but you will never really leave me. it won't make it hurt less but it is a part of healing somehow.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 32)

Tw: mentions of past rape, molestation, injury, blood

Part 33

You were shell-shocked.

You were being evaluated at the hospital. The kind nurses treated your wounds and offered much-needed compassion.

They gathered as much evidence as they could against the assault. You didn't remember what they asked or what they wanted from you, but you did remember having Yves on the phone to settle everything for you.

It was the worst thing you've ever experienced.

You were admitted into the hospital for a few days because one of the wounds became infected and she managed to give you a hairline fracture on your leg. You don't know what has happened to Evangeline or her family, nor did you want to know.

You didn't want to see your reflection. So you were grateful when Yves agreed to only communicate via voice calls.

But that was because Yves didn't want you to see how much he wept for you behind the camera. It would have been the first time seeing his makeup being imperfect and ruined, to see this, shockingly vulnerable side of him.

He knew how horrible it was to go through this, the inner turmoil that this event will cause for years to come... he is reminded of all of it. Yves wouldn't care if it happened to someone else, or even himself. But it happened to you, and he blamed himself for not predicting this. For being careless in his research.

For not predicting that Evangeline will come by the exact time you're leaving your room. Yves didn't do enough digging on that evil woman, he underestimated her degeneracy and it cost you dearly.

He didn't predict how useless your housemates were. Yves already told them to watch out for Evangeline as she was dangerous, not to let her into the house and call the police immediately as soon as she's spotted in the premises.

Instead, they all hid in their rooms when you let her in. They didn't do the bare minimum of even alerting the police, choosing to protect themselves by locking their own bedroom doors.

He was speechless. Yves knew they were selfish, but he thought he could have utilized their selfishness. They were supposed to call the police out of fear that Evangeline would hurt them or damage the property (hence the landlord would force them to pay), not use you as a sacrifice!

Luckily Yves called Mr. Jones almost a day before Evangeline stepped foot outside their house, expressing his concern over his daughter's strange behavior towards your confrontation. He suggested keeping a closer eye on her.

He even contacted his wife. The disciplinarian of the family and the lesser liked parent because of her rigidness.

However, Yves made a grave mistake of thinking they would naturally agree with him. Of course they would give their angel daughter the benefit of the doubt, they love her and couldn't imagine her doing such atrocities. He could tell that they were offended, but well hidden behind polite words.

He forgot, parents tend to love their children unconditionally. Making them blind to their deeds.

It took Yves sending a picture of Evangeline walking up to the front porch for Mr Jones to start bombarding her phones with calls, with the intent of pleading with her not to go through with whatever she planned.

The wife didn't even bother, as she's comfortable in thinking her husband will handle everything.

They had no idea how much they infuriated Yves, calling her was futile, she was clearly in a state where she's unable to listen to reason! Yves fully expected them to zip through the highways to physically restrain her. To save what's left of their reputation or at least what's left of their sick excuse of a child.

The Jones family had sealed their fate as soon as Yves had to call the police himself, pretending to be a neighbor concerned about a violent dispute in your house. Where in reality, the households around you weren't even home to witness anything.

He threw in everything he could to make it their priority, Yves claimed that there were guns involved, the abuse of children, blood, victims close to death... anything to get them out and about.

Hell, Yves even contacted Montgomery. But it only went to voicemail because he was busy working. Same goes to your landlord, he didn't pick up any of the calls because he was asleep.

But it didn't matter what he did. It was too late. The police took their sweet time and Yves couldn't stop it from happening.

He had thought of sending his own men to snipe her down, but that would come with its own set of problems- you would be a lot more traumatized to know Yves a bit deeper. But he should have readied his men within a certain radius to intercept her. Yet, he didn't think of that nor did he believe it was necessary. He expected at least one of his fail-safes would work. None of them did.

Yves was furious. The people around you were supposed to care and love you, but they did not. Enraged that everyone let you down, angry that he let you down.

How could he do this to you? You're so young and innocent, he vowed to protect you and shield you from what he experienced in the past no matter the circumstance. But he failed terribly. All because he was undisciplined enough to be careless. He fucking hated those two words, yet it's being appropriately applied to him now.

You're fiddling on your thumbs, letting the horrors silently replay in your head. Too distracted to notice that Yves muted himself on the call.

If you could see him right now, your head might just melt from the sheer jarringness and bizarreness of his breakdown.

His gorgeous curls were sprawled across his hotel room desk as he sobbed in his arms, resting on the hard, cold marble surface. He was never messy before, but today is an exception; there were pieces of papers, either torn or crumpled out of frustration or intact spread around him. Pens that lost their caps rolled around the floor, his laptop screen is showing a live feed of you in your hospital bed but his tabs are disorganized.

The fact that the weather is still too unstable for him to leave is making him worse. No planes were taking off. These are things he cannot control and it's futile getting upset over it. But he can't help himself for being angry at fate, even if it did nothing.

He regretted it, oh, how he regretted parting away from you. None of this would have happened if he didn't hire Jones, if he's only there for 48 hours, if he didn't go at all.

He knows, Yves knows it's useless to keep beating himself up over this. What's done is done, he has to move forward and take care of you better. But the circumstances around him wouldn't let him get past it, and this is torture to him. Yves is literally out of commission, unable to be there for you in any way. He couldn't be that strong, flawless deity that ensures nothing bad ever happens to you.

Yves is not in control of himself as he thought. His discipline was not enough and it is a hard pill to swallow. But he has to.

Yves lifted his head off the desk and sniffled, grabbing a facial napkin from a tissue box nearby. He dabbed his nose, letting it absorb his drippings.

His lower lip trembled and his eyebrows were knitted out of agony as his bloodshot eyes landed onto the video of you falling asleep. More tears rolled down his cheek, taking the pigment of his mascara along with it. If only you could see him now with black streaks running down his face, you would think very lowly of him.

Yves lets out a shaky sigh. He took a few minutes to close his eyes and compose himself, just enough to seem like he wasn't bawling his eyes out.

He rakes his finger through his hair to tidy it up a bit, his eyes never once leaving you.

Yves cleared his throat and stood up. That's enough self-berating and self-pitying for now. It's time to clean up and think of the worst fate the Jones, your housemates, your landlord and Montgomery could possibly face.

Yves ditched the champagne flute this time. He opted to drink directly from the bottle. How uncouth of him, he feels like an uncultured, idiotic swine all over again. But that's what he is now, right? Stupid and naive to trust the people around you were reliable. A fucking moron to have full confidence in his abilities, a fucking dumbass for expecting the best in his lacklustre plans.

He looked out of the window. Taking a massive swig of his drink, hoping that it would somehow dull the pain he's experiencing. However, he knows better than to expect that. The best a full bottle could do is to mildly calm his nerves.

Yves learns from his mistakes. He now knows you had no one to rely on except him. And he will act accordingly.

__

You woke up to hushed chattering between a man who seems to be under distress and a nurse who is trying to calm him down.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes.

"(Name)!" Exclaimed Montgomery. He's oddly cleaner than usual.

You froze momentarily before trying to get away from him as much as you can, fearing that Montgomery is the next Evangeline. The nurse picked up on your clear panic and immediately told him to leave.

"Wait! Y-your sugar da-" He paused and then reworded his sentence. "Yves, told me what happened."

You looked at him with the most incredulous expression. What? Why would Yves tell your other abhorrent admirer about your situation?

"I promise, I won't touch ya', okay? What that bitch did was disgusting, it made me sick to the core."

You asked him a lot of questions. Actually, it should be more appropriate of you to ask Yves instead. Regardless, you asked him why would Yves tell him about you.

"I don't know how that bastard got my number, but I saw that he left a voicemail while I was at work. He told me about that girl and how he's worried that she might hurt ya. Y'know what, I'll let you listen to it your damn self."

He pulled out his phone and tapped a couple of buttons. The nurse was readying her walkie talkie, about to contact security to take him away. But you signalled her that you're tolerating her presence.

"Yeller. This is Yves. (Name) told me everything that has happened between them, you and Evangeline Jones. She molested (name) yesterday and I was alerted of her close proximity to their home a few minutes ago."

Yves's voice was uncharacteristically panicked and wavering. However, despite the obvious stress that Yves was under, he was able to clearly articulate what he wanted to say.

"She is very capable of doing harm and I'm not around to protect them, that is why I'm calling you. I know you care about (name) in your own way, Yeller. Please. I need you to go to this location. Now."

You listened to Yves giving out your entire address to Montgomery. Then, the voice message ends.

"I went straight to ya' house after work and it was a whole crime scene." Montgomery looked at you with a pair of regretful eyes. "I guess she really did a number on ya' huh?"

He doesn't know the full extent of her abuse. Or else he wouldn't be awkwardly laughing, trying to lighten the mood.

You asked him how did he know to find you here.

"It wasn't easy, ain't nobody wanna tell me nothin'. There were a bunch of people there, I think one of em' was named Jason, he was freaking out over your busted window and door." He continued, pulling a chair and sitting on it.

"One of ya' friends told me that you and that bitch got into a scuffle. You lost and had to be sent to the ER."

Friends? He must be talking about your housemates. They were at home this entire time? You weren't surprised that they were too cowardly to come down and defend you, but you expected them to at least call the police. Mr. Jones must have been the one who did it when he arrived.

Speaking of which, how did he know where Evangeline was?

You asked him if he thought this was just a fist fight. He stared at you, confused.

"Is it... not just that?"

There was a beat of silence before you told him no and looked away. You said you don't want visitors anymore, grateful that the nurse stayed the entire time. You were fully expecting for him to be escorted out by security, hissing and thrashing.

But you were astonished Montgomery didn't put up a fight.

"Alright. You know how to find me. I'll leave ya' be for now." He sounded... sympathetic. Understanding, even. There was an evident twinge of regret and remorse in his voice, you wonder why.

"I'm sorry, (name). I shouldn't have trusted her in the first place." After that, he left on his own accord, the nurse following behind him to ensure he was not lurking around the halls.

You let out a breath. It's... strange. There were so many things that didn't add up. You began making excuses, it wasn't hard to find Montgomery's details from the Internet. So Yves must have gotten his number there.

But who told him Evangeline was nearby? You suspected that it was one of your housemates. There is no one else. It's just extremely vexing that they weren't as nosy as usual, if they came out and began poking and prodding at Evangeline, this wouldn't have happened. But then... why would they even tell Yves if a stranger comes by in the first place?

Then there was the question about Mr. Jones. Evangeline doesn't have a car nor a driver's license. So she had to get here by bus.

He was in his uniform, that means he was unlikely to know that Evangeline even left the house. So who told him? Yves? Seems plausible, but the timeline doesn't make sense to you.

Although it felt like hours of torture, the incident happened within a mere 11 minutes, they arrived 8 minutes after Evangeline started. The last 3 minutes was spent trying to gain access. It's unbelievable, but that was the reality of it. You know the nearest police station is an hour away by car. So the call must have been placed much earlier, or it was a coincidence that there was some patrolling nearby. But the latter was unlikely, you're in a sketchy neighborhood because there's barely any cops.

Either way, it couldn't be Mr. Jones was the one who alerted the authorities, the timing wasn't adding up. He was already banging on your window 6 minutes into the torment.

You shocked yourself that you could keep track of the timing. Thanks to the wall clock in your room that you couldn't... seem to remember owning.

All these discrepancies were giving you a headache. You tried to stay positive and look at the bright side. But it was hard, you do the best you can.

You picked your phone up, only to see that it died.

Sighing, you threw it onto the tray nearby and shuffled around, minding the cast around your leg and the bandages near your groin.

You closed your eyes once more and begged hard for this to be a dream.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Hart and Hunter - Chapter 14 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Julian Hart

"Alright, so we got the history lesson and the family connection," he growls.

"Now, how do the two relate?"

Halloran takes his time answering, as if putting his thoughts in order before he speaks.

"Leannan Sidhe' are gifted and cursed with a nature that will grant their lover's heart's desire," he says.

"Naturally, getting what one wants most in the world is often not as beneficial as one hopes and tales of such trysts often end in tragedy."

I glance at Dane and see my troubled thoughts reflected in his eyes.

"The idea was for a 'Leannan Sidhe' to take a human lover," Halloran continues.

"To convince that lover that the portal was what he or she wanted most in the world and then to grant that wish. This would cost the Fae his or her life but the power of that sacrifice would be enough to create a rift between realms. The cost was steep but what is one life, after all, against the survival of an entire race? And so, as one of the few 'Leannan Sidhe' and one of even fewer who shared this conviction, Rhiannon volunteered. She was tired of the violence and the seemingly endless war of attrition between Wolves and Fae. She wanted an end to it."

"So she came here?" I ask and Halloran nods.

"Around the year 1960, she came through the portal at the standing stones, took up a life here and began her search for a 'mate.' With her looks and charms, she had the pick of the field but the man who eventually caught her eye was James Hart. He seemed perfect, at first, simple and good-hearted and easily convinced that Rhiannon's desires were his own. Unfortunately, my sister quickly realized her mistake."

"Mistake?" Ingrid asks, her eyes wide with rapt attention.

"Was he a bad man?"

"No," Halloran smiles.

"Not bad. Better than she'd thought. She fell in love with him and his heart's desire had nothing to do with Faerie doorways or promises of immortality. All he wanted was a simple, happy life with her, right here and because it was her nature to do so, she granted his wish and within a year they were blessed with a child, whom they called David."

"And they lived happily ever after?" I venture hopefully, though I know they did not.

I didn't know much about my father's childhood, except he'd been raised by an aunt.

"I'm afraid not," Halloran says with a sad smile.

"The war was on and though no record of them remains, there were Wolves in Spring Lakes, then. Somehow or other, they got word of a Fae living in their midst and set out to rectify the matter. Rhiannon wasn't home when they attacked, fortunately she was out with the baby but James was. When she returned..."

Dane blows out a breath.

"I'm guessing it didn't end well for the Wolves, either."

Halloran shakes his head. "

No, indeed. Rhiannon went mad with grief. Leaving her infant son in the care of his human relatives, she set out for vengeance and slaughtered every Wolf in the pack... young and old alike."

"Full-on Anakin Skywalker, huh?" Grace says.

I don't expect the Fae great-uncle I never knew I had to get the reference but in keeping with the day's weirdness, he merely lifts a brow and nods.

"More or less. Furthermore, this turn of events did not please the Fae nearly so much as it might have in years past. The whole 'permanent portal' idea was far from officially sanctioned, closer to a rogue 'black op' than anything else. Meanwhile, the Summer Court was very close to establishing a treaty of peace, thanks in no small part to a certain young Alpha named Astrid Hunter."

Ingrid startles and Dane goes still.

"My mother?" he asks and Halloran nods.

"She was a 'guest' of the Summer Queen at the time. Rhiannon's actions severely jeopardized the negotiations and to mollify the Wolves, the Queen banished her to the 'underworld' and told everyone she'd been killed."

Halloran draws a breath and looks at me.

"Which brings us to the present, more or less. When I learned that something or someone, had come through from that realm here, of all places, I wondered if it might be her. Part of me hoped it was, part of me hoped she'd died long ago."

He sighs and turns to Dane.

"You see, before she was banished, something convinced her that she'd made a terrible mistake, that the Wolves had nothing to do with James's death. Instead, she talked of Shifters and of some shadowy third party with interests of its own, who had staged the scene to make it seem as if the Wolves were to blame. No one believed her,but given what happened to her son and what nearly happened to Julian last year... well, now I'm not so sure."

"You mean...?"

Halloran nods.

"If Rhiannon knows or thinks she knows, who killed James, she'll be targeting them or more than likely, after all this time, they're descendants."

I look at Chloe.

While new to the area herself, her father's family have lived here for several generations and her father might not have been the first to attempt to use Wolves and Fae for his own ends.

She probably doesn't know all the darker family legends but her cousin might.

Ian Foley grew up right here in Spring Lakes, after all, in this very house.

"Shit."

I lean back in my seat and shut my eyes as an unpleasant thought enters my brain.

"Julian? You okay?" Dane asks, resting a hand on my upper arm.

"Yeah."

I don't hate Ian nearly as much as once did and I certainly don't want him to end up on my grandmother's hit list but he's still not among my favorite people in the world.

"I just realized I'm gonna have to talk to my ex, is all."

[wutheringmights]

Can I be greedy and ask for all of the boys ? And any characters you have strong opinions on? Pretty please? With lots of cherries and chocolate on top? ( for the ask meme ofc)

Anon, I'll finish up all of the boys in the Chain just for you. And trust me, I have an Infinite Amount of Strong Opinions. You have no idea how Opinionated I Am.

If anyone is coming in late to this, here are the boys I have done already and a short summary of my thoughts (click the hyperlinks to get the full Opinion):

Warriors: he's best when he's the trashy anti-Link, and I like him so much

Twilight: kind of boring, but I have a soft spot for him anyway because you never forget your first

Wind: should have been aged up a little so that he can have that identity crisis I'm craving

This... gets long. Really long. 3-hours-of-work-long. Before you read, please note that even when I speak negatively about something, it’s not to diss anyone who does like the thing. I’m not vague posting or being passive aggressive. This is all written in good humor and good faith. 

That being said, let’s a-go!

-Sky-

What I love about them: He has one of the best character arcs of all the Links. I love that he starts off being lazy and kind of a jerk, but grows as a person because he wants to save his friend. And I love that he's truly the most courageous Link. He has no other successful hero of past or legacy to lean back upon to reassure him. He walked into that fight with Demise with no assurance from anyone that he would succeed. Yet, he does it anyway. Because he's a true hero and someone had to be one. And he's rewarded with a curse that he does not initially take seriously. He thinks he's saved everyone, yet he's cursed his spirit, possibly his bloodline, and his entire legacy of the kingdom of Hyrule into a doomed cycle of destruction. All because he dared to face evil incarnate. I love him.

What I hate about them: You know how I called Twilight boring? I should have saved that critique for Sky. LU Sky is actually the most boring interpretation of his character. All of his negative traits? Gone. All of his positives? Also gone. He's the blandest version of himself, and like Twilight, I now feel like I gotta add some spice to him to make him more interesting while still keeping him recognizable. Even so, he's still one of my favorite Links.

Favorite Moment/Quote: When he kicks Twilight's ass at sword fighting. That's stuff is *chef's kiss*

What I would like to see more focus on: You would think that there would be more angst out there about him realizing that he's actually been cursed, but it's still kind of hard to find. He's the Cursed Knight! The beginning of a terrible legacy! Imagine meeting a bunch of heroes for the first time, and instead of being relieved at having someone who understands your experiences, you're filled with horror at realizing that your victory was a false one. You didn't win. Your spirit will never be at rest. Imagine dealing with that realization for the rest of your life. You could never be at peace.

What I would like to see less focus on: I love that he loves his wife, but he's more just the fact that he's married, y'know? I would like to see a little less blind devotion to Hylia and Zelda, and more complicated feelings about being manipulated into being the hero.

Favorite pairing with: Sun/Link/Groose OT3! I have no reasoning behind this other than I like Groose and Groose definitely had a crush on SkSw Link.

Favorite friendship: I won't answer Groose again even if I want to, so I'll say Warriors. I cannot begin to describe how elite this friendship would be if you gave it a chance. They're just two boys dealing with unique positions of leadership and responsibility. They would probably even bond over being shitheads at different ends of the shithead spectrum. It's so good, okay?

NOTP: Ghirahim. I'm not too adverse to this one, but the ship hinges on whether you can redeem Ghirahim or not. In my opinion, Ghirahim is awesome because he's such a fun villain. Redeeming him ruins the fun.

Favorite headcanon: I have a whole life story planned out for Sky. Basically, he lives to be close to 500 years old by the power of the Triforce. He is the Link throughout the Era of Chaos who banishes the Dark Interlopers to the Twilight Realm and seals the Triforce in the Sacred Realm. He actually seals himself in the Sacred Realm as well to keep the Triforce safe, and he fought Ganondorf in when he broke in. Sky, like Time and Wind, does not get a happy ending.

-Four-

What I love about them: Four is origin of the heroes of Hyrule being known for being children. What a legacy to leave behind. He's such an interesting case of an incarnation of the Hero's Spirit, too. He fought Vaati, and he did his job so well that Demise's next incarnation had to be Ganondorf. Four did his job the best out of everyone, and it came at the cost of creating a magic sword that changed him permanently. I like to think that the Four Sword was not meant to split him, that it was a mistake he made with the design. And it's sad, isn't it? You made a defective sword, and like any good sword, it has a symbolic double edge. It gifted you with so much, and yet he can never be the same again. And his story is never well-remembered because it is overshadowed by the Links who fought the King of Evil. He's does so much, yet his legacy is underappreciated.

What I hate about them: I want to prepare you for this Opinion, because I know it's unpopular. Are you ready? Okay. I don't like the Colors. I'm sorry. I want to like them, but they don't interest me at all. Because they are parts of Four’s personality, they have to be one-note archetypes which does not make for exciting storytelling. I also haven't found a fic yet that has been from Four's POV that did the internal monologue of the Colors in a way that wasn't a pain in the ass to read. Maybe if someone can figure out how to do the Colors in a way that doesn't feel like a drag, I would like them more. But in the end, I think Four himself is more interesting than the Colors.

Favorite Moment/Quote: The fact that he didn't want to touch the Master Sword because he doesn't trust magic swords. That is every I need to know about his opinion on his own adventures.

What I would like to see more focus on: I want more of Four as Four. It's getting harder to find content of Four being his own person first and the Colors second.

What I would like to see less focus on: Four being the Colors first and his own person second. There is something about viewing Four as this cover identity for the Colors that doesn't feel right. There's a balance that needs to be strike between his ability to split, how that affects his every day life, and his own identity of being Four. I think I may have read one fic that hit that sweet spot for me, but still.

Favorite pairing with: Shadow. I'm such a sucker for befriending and falling for the enemy. That is all.

Favorite friendship: Dot! Their friendship is super cute. I like the idea of them being super close when they were younger and struggling to keep the friendship going as they age due to how much their paths in life diverge.

NOTP: This isn't necessarily a Four or an LU problem, but people who ship the Colors together? Bro. C'mon.

Favorite headcanon: I'm torn between two different Four and the Master Sword headcanons. On one hand, Four thinking that the Master Sword is just legend until he meets Sky and everyone else is just a fun idea. He sees the legendary sword for the first time and his mind is blown. On the other hand, I also like my Four with a side of hubris. What if he had the option on his quest to draw the Master Sword himself? What if he could tell that if he did that, the consequences would be terrible. He's not sure what would happen, but he knows it would be terrible. So he decided to make his own sword instead to disastrous results. Wouldn't that be tragic or what?

-Time-

What I love about them: Last winter, I did a two hour powerpoint for my friends about the Legend of Zelda timeline. During that powerpoint, I was rating every iteration of Link. What I said about the Hero of Time then holds true to my thoughts of LU Time now. Time is the original Link, more so than Sky in the lore and Legend/Hyrule in real life. Every other hero is a reflection of him. So the fact that his story is about the loss of childhood and the tragedy of that is incredible, and you can see those themes reflected in every other game. Moreso, he’s the only Link with a confirmed tragic ending. Not only does he end his life unsatisfied, but his adventure is failure on every timeline. In the adult timeline, Hyrule is swallowed by the sea. In the child one, Ganondorf returns again. In the fallen timeline, Hyrule fell. I like the idea since that the games themselves are the legends that are past down about each hero, Hylians have also remembered Time as a tragic figure. Yet, they also remember that the happy moments for his life come from small acts of kindness. Even someone as sad as him finds joy in helping others, even if it’s just to small deeds that will not be heralded as grand heroic quests. It’s beautiful.

What I hate about them: This is more about Mask than Time, but Mask is not an adult in a child’s body. He did not rewind time in Termina enough to be considered mentally an adult. He’s a young teenager at best, and that’s me being generous. He is a child who was forced to be an adult and despite the gods being done with him, he cannot conceive of ever having a childhood again. So he can say all he wants that he’s an adult, but he is not. That’s just what he thinks he is.

Favorite Moment/Quote: Anytime we get a flashback to him being a younger adult is great. I want to see more of his in this his early adulthood.

What I would like to see more focus on: I think I just want more of Time being... not a bad leader, but being an imperfect one. I honestly think he’s only the leader because he’s the oldest and enough of the heroes recognize the title of Hero of Time. But he is not the leader type, and he is struggling to keep it together and has to defer to Twilight and Warriors for help a lot. 

What I would like to see less focus on: I’m not the biggest fan of Dad!Time for any of the Links. He’s not emotionally ready for it. And I think he defaults to treating the boys like adults because that’s how he wanted to be treated when he was their age. 

Favorite pairing with: Malon. He has this great partnership of equal respect with her and it’s just. So good.

Favorite friendship: Linebeck. I know. This exists only in my head. But if these two ever meet, you cannot convince me that they would not get along swimmingly. It would be so good (once Linebeck gets over his crush on Time and stops hitting on him, of course).

NOTP: Child Timeline Zelda. Let me explain: I fully believe in Bi Time supremacy, and when in OoT, he definitely had a crush on Sheik. However, one of the worst parts of rewinding time and being in the child timeline is that Zelda is a completely different person now. They may have been friends in the other timeline, but her life experiences are completely different now. She is not the same person as he once knew. And it’s tragic to know someone as who they could have been, not as they are.

Favorite headcanon: After Termina, Time spent a lot of time with the Nabooru because out of everyone he knew, she’s the only who took him seriously even as a child. She has big older sister energy, and he considers her a part of his family. However, being treated as such made it easier for him to ignore his issues and put off his healing process by a few years.

-Legend-

What I love about them: Veteran of Heroes! What a freaking title. I love that he keeps on finding adventures, and that he keeps hustling. Even if he complains about never getting a break, you can tell that he loves helping others. He loves being on the road, never settling down, and finding adventure after adventure. Honestly, if any of the Links had a calling to be a hero, it’s him. Is he tired? Sure. Is he a little jaded after having saved Hyrule and a bunch of other kingdoms multiple times? Yes. But at the end of the day, he likes being a hero. This is who he is. His complaining is not genuine; he just plays the martyr because, at this point, he’s earned the right to.

What I hate about them: If you can’t tell by now, I have a, uh, different interpretation of Legend from popular canon. Fandom Legend is not right to me. He is unrecognizable. It is hard to write him because I feel like I have to balance what other people think Legend should be versus how I think he is. The people who are big Legend enjoyers probably feel the same way about my version of Warriors, and that’s fine. I’m not going to gel with every character and I don’t expect everyone to gel with how I see characters either. It’s goes both ways, y’know.

Favorite Moment/Quote: I like how subtly he tried to approach the Wolfie problem at first, trying to ask questions and get more proof before confronting Twilight. It’s a good touch.

What I would like to see more focus on: If I had to choose one thing, it’s this one throw away line about him never wanting to settle down. I’m telling you, folks! He likes his lifestyle! And did you see him when he does presenting the origins of the hero? He’s not bitter about being a hero! Legend is moody, but he is not angsty about the whole hero thing. Have fun with him please!

What I would like to see less focus on: If you can’t tell by now, Legend is my least favorite Link. There is a lot I want to see less of, but just to name one thing, it’s the headcanon that Fable is his sister. I live and die by common born Link, and whether he’s a legitimate heir or the royal bastard, I am more than bored with the persistent Prince!Legend content.

Favorite pairing with: Marin. It’s a good tragic story and I like it well enough. She’s cute, and he’s cute with her.

Favorite friendship: Warriors. I’m with everyone else on these two have peak sibling energy. They tease and pick on each other, but only they are allowed to mess with each other. They’re each other’s bully, and it’s always good to see.

NOTP: I do not have enough energy to have a lot of strong opinions about Legend’s romantic relationships, but I will mentioned that I have lost a lot of love for Ravio recently and am liking seeing him with Legend less and less. I have no better reason for this than the fact that I finally played ALBW and hate how many of my hard earned rupees he’s taken from me by withholding important, lifesaving items. Rat bastard.

Favorite headcanon: Remember my headcanon about him being the coolest bad boy folk hero on the block because everyone thinks he kidnapped Zelda? Yeah, I still stand by that one. I did good there.

-Hyrule-

What I love about them: If there is any Link that I would call a gutter rat, it is this one. I struggle a bit to talk about Hyrule since his games gives us so little, but in the end, I always fall back on him being a hero of the people. He is the one who has nothing and relates the best to people who are at their lowest. Yet, he is still a hero. He earns the right to be a hero because he helped Impa in her time of need. He’s selfless and competent. Even if he never got a traditional education, I bet he’s wicked smart too. He is the Link that symbolizes all of the parts of the Triforce the most. And, god. I cannot talk about him without mentioning the blood sacrifice part of LA. It’s such a cool concept, and I cannot imagine what it must be like to go from being the rough and tumble, win-at-all-costs fighting to protecting yourself first because if you don’t, the consequences are disastrous. It’s paradoxical, and it must be such a different mindset to fall into. But it must also be a blessing in disguise since now he has a reason to finally care about himself.

What I hate about them: Who started the Hyrule is innocent headcanon? Come over here because we need to exchange some words. If there is anyone who would be a realist and know how the world works, it’s this guy. And while we’re here, who came up with the Hryule is always lost headcanon? I also have some words for you. And you know what? WHILE WE’RE HERE, who let him be named Hyrule? I’m have more than choice words for you. His name scheme is the bane of my existence and the express reason why I don’t write him more. God.

Favorite Moment/Quote: That one panel where he takes utter delight in Warriors hiding from his scorned lovers? That is a central pillar in my understanding of Hyrule.

What I would like to see more focus on: Again, his relationship with other people. Even if his games are lacking in NPCs, we know from lore that he’s a good guy who will jump in to help others. He must know plenty of people, and I want to see who exists in his world with him. 

What I would like to see less focus on: I have an on-going joke with my brother that certain characters are Catholic, even if Catholicism does not exist in the world of the thing we’re watching or playing. Of course, we’re not being serious. we’re just joshing around. So imagine the gut punch I feel whenever I see people say Hyrule is Christian and realize that they’re being serious. I just can’t take it seriously.

Favorite pairing with: Aurora. It’s cute and I’m a sucker for that hero and royalty dynamic, especially when the hero is a peasant. It’s so cheesy, but I love it.

Favorite friendship: Legend. But not the way everyone else pairs them up as the grumpy one and the sunshine one. I think of it more as them being the pinnacle of boys being boys. They’re shitheads. They do stupid shit together. They both have a dark sense of humor. They joke that they’re practically the same person sometimes.

NOTP: uhhhhhhhhh.... Is he paired with anyone else?

Favorite headcanon: I love the idea that he just likes his way of life and refuses to accept anyone saying otherwise. Legend wants to teach him to read? Sorry, but he’s never had to read before in his life so he’s pretty sure he’ll never need it anyway. Want to participate in the treasured Hylian tradition of piercing your ears when you come of age? Why would he ever do that when a monster could rip those earrings off? He’s stuck in his ways and it frustrates everyone else to no end, but he has no interest in ever changing.

-Wild-

What I love about them: When I was 9, I spent my time online on Legend of Zelda forums. I remember one of my forum friends saying that they wanted a Legend of Zelda game where Link lost. And I think of that friend whenever I think about Wild. BOTW Link is the best Link that has ever been. He is the epitome of every trait we associate with any Link. He’s smart and sassy. He’s hard working and kind. But underlining all of that is the fact that he’s still the one who failed. If Demise’s Curse in SkSw is the set-up, the Great Calamity is the payoff. And I haven’t even talked about how confirming him as being non-verbal before the Calamity does so much for his characterization. I don’t even know where to start or how to articulate it. By game storyline alone, Wild is one of my favorites.

What I hate about them: You guys knew this one was coming, but I’m going to have to say it anyway. Fandom Wild.... not good. I’ve said it for half of these boys so far, but god is it true. I have a way I see Wild that is rarely done in the fandom. Fandom Wild has a lot of the traits I also see in Wild, but to all of the extremes. I will mention one thing in particular as being a pet peeve, and it’s how some people headcanon him as always being nonverbal. I know what they’re trying to do, and I think they’re on to something, but they’re also missing the point of what BOTW Link’s character arc is. I just wish more people would forget fandom and work more off of the games for how to characterize him.

Favorite Moment/Quote: Weirdly enough, my favorite moment is when he got mad at everyone for making fun of his Gerudo outfit, so he dumped Goron Spice in his cooking. It’s encapsulates a part of his character I think a lot of people forget about.

What I would like to see more focus on: I think he has a really complicated relationship with his past. He said himself that his old self felt like a different person, and I think that should be explored a lot more. That idea actually fascinates me so much that instead of CTB, I almost wrote a character study fic about Wild. His emotions are not as simple as feeling guilty about letting his friends die and not preventing the Calamity. His emotions would be so complicated and because I don’t have the time to explore it, someone else needs to do it for me.

What I would like to see less focus on: There is a weird fascination with Wild having memory loss and essentially being like a kid again. And this feels infantilizing to me. It honestly bugs me a lot every time I see it.

Favorite pairing with: I can’t decide between Zelda, Mipha, and Revali. They’re all different dynamics and they’re all good.

Favorite friendship: Paya. I firmly believe that Paya is Wild’s best friend. I am the only one in the world who believes this. But I am also the only one in the world who is correct. 

NOTP: Wild is good with everyone. Good for him!

Favorite headcanon: An essential scene of my Wild character study I will never write is one where his horse dies. He goes into shock and walks back to Kakariko to talk to Impa. But once he goes to her, he breaks down in tears and has an absolute melt down over the horse. And Impa sagely says, “It’s not about the horse, is it?” She’s implying that he’s actually mourning the loss of his friends, Hyrule, his life, everything-- but through his tears, he keeps tell her that she’s wrong. He barely remembers them. He doesn’t know them. He doesn’t have any feelings about them. He just really loved that horse. But Impa refuses to listen to him, just repeating over and over again: “it’s not really about the horse.”

And that’s it! That’s all of my opinions! I know a lot of my opinions are polarizing, but everything I said is in good faith, and I am not trying to diss anyone for how they approach these characters.

I welcome you to send me your Opinions on the Links, even if it’s just to disagree with me. I’m cool with it, and I like knowing what everyone else thinks!

[vs-redemption]

hii! i swear i read your request rules but i’m still worried this doesn’t follow them. anyway i figured i’d ask and you can obviously decline ahahah. i just read Gray and it’s so well written and makes my heart shiver and i wanted to ask if you’d write a part 2 or a one shot/scenario of having levi as a soulmate in the same eye color soulmate au as Gray? thank you !! :) (^･ｪ･^)

From Cindy: I apologize for taking so long to get to this! It took me a while to get an idea I liked, and then I had trouble getting into the mindset to write it. Inspiration finally struck though, and this is the result! I hope you like it!

Soulmates (Levi x GN!Reader)

Based on the same AU as Gray (Levi x Gn!Reader)

⚠️angst and hints of sex work (Levi’s Mom)⚠️

Levi loved safety

Being born in an extremely run down and sketchy part of the city was one of the worst fates a person could experience. Ever since Levi could remember, he’d been burdened with warnings from his mother who had learned most lessons about living amongst the dregs of society the hard way. He never stepped a foot outside their tiny one room home without hearing her voice expressing concerns about who he talked to, which streets he went down, how late he stayed out, and which shops he visited. There was danger everywhere and no one to protect him.

“Levi, stay close to me,” the woman would say to him when he was younger. Even going out in the middle of the day was a risk for them because his mother had a reputation. In order to feed him and keep the roof over his head, she’d reduced herself to a line of work that garnered an uncomfortable amount of negative attention. In a world ruled by the existence of soul mates, everything about their lifestyle was wrong and all it took was seeing a woman with duel colored eyes and a child for someone to know she’d committed the biggest taboo.

At first, Levi didn’t understand why anything about his mother’s appearance would cause such a stir. He’d seen plenty of people with two colored eyes, including himself. As he got older though, his curiosity grew and one day he made the mistake of asking about his father. The pained look on his mother’s face filled him with regret immediately, but he sat and listened to her intently as she explained the ways of their harsh reality.

“Your eyes are a promise,” she’d told him as delicately as possible. “A promise not to share yourself with anyone until you meet the person who you are destined to find and be with forever.” Levi had been filled with sadness for his mother when she admitted to breaking her promise. It was clear that she’d only committed such a disapproved act out of absolute necessity. People were judgmental though and could only see the fact that Levi’s father had not been the woman’s soulmate, which is why her eyes remained mismatched.

“You can still find them,” Levi had tried to hold on to a glimmer of hope for her, but she just smiled sadly and shook her head. The likeliness was low at her age, and even if they happened to cross paths, her past and status as a single mother would drive any respectable person away.

Levi loved stability

After learning about and coming to terms with the truth of this mother’s situation, Levi became determined to help her out in any way possible. He didn’t want the woman sacrificing herself for him any longer. And once he got older, he begged her to start staying home while he did what he could to provide for them both.

“It’s not your job to take care of me, Levi.” She’d smiled at this thoughtfulness while cupping his cheek in her delicate hand. “Everything I’ve done will have been worth it as long as you can have a better life than me.”

He understood her sentiment, but was too stubborn to give up. It was hard to find honest work in a town full of desperation and poverty, but Levi did his best. He took odd jobs here and there, and tried not to get mixed up in any of the bad business that ran rampant in the area. The money he earned wasn’t nearly enough to cover the cost of his small home though. After a handful of threats from the landlord to toss them out on the street, Levi knew he had to do more.

Levi loved familiarity

Resorting to petty theft went against everything Levi’s mother had taught him, and he knew it would probably break her heart if she ever found out. Still, he couldn’t allow their home to be taken away, or worse, his mother to return to the work she’d done before.

He had to be smart though. Being caught stealing in his neighborhood could get him killed. Going into the nicer parts of the city would be a better bet. He didn’t know the area as well, of course, but there was the benefit that he wouldn’t be recognized if anyone saw him. If he did happen to get caught by law enforcement, he’d end up in a jail cell rather than a cold ditch somewhere. Neither option was ideal, but stealing from the rich would have to do until a better plan presented itself.

Things went decently for a while, and Levi was a quick learner. He figured out what worked and what didn’t without having too many close calls. He made sure only to take enough to get by since the thought of being too similar to the criminals he’d grown up around made him sick to his stomach. It was only a matter of time though before his luck ran out. Rumors of a pickpocket spread and people began to act more cautiously about carrying their valuables out in the open, forcing Levi to get more reckless with his stunts.

It was on a particularly frustrating day that Levi caught a glimpse of you. More accurately, he caught a glimpse of the leather purse filled with coins hanging from your hip as you chatted away with a friend outside a popular confectionary. With practiced movements, he slipped into the crowd and made his way in your direction, thinking that snatching up the money would be simple and easy. He’d made a mistake though. Your pouch wasn’t tied up like he was used to, but secured with a metal ring designed specifically to prevent the very act he was trying to pull.

You begin to turn around as soon as you feel the tug on your belt and Levi freezes for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of the situation. One word from you and everyone in the vicinity would be on him. As soon as your duel colored eyes met his however, something happened that put all other thoughts out of both of your minds. Levi watched in shock as you blinked once, twice, and then suddenly your left eye changed color completely to match your right. The look of initial alarm on you face softened and Levi knew he had to get out of there. He turned on his heel, ducked his head down, and walked away as quickly and as naturally as his legs would allow. He waited for any sign that he was being pursued for a moment or two and then broke into a run.

Levi loved certainty

In his panic, Levi didn’t even greet his mother as he rushed past her once arriving at home. His heart was pounding and a light sweat covered his forehead uncomfortably. He went straight to the bathroom to stand in front of the cracked mirror above the sink. It took a few seconds to muster up the courage to look into his reflection and find that everything that had happened was real. The two colored eyes that he was so used to were gone.

“Levi, sweetie, are you all right?” his mother appeared in the doorway, looking scared. “Did something happen at work? You’re not usually home this early!” He turns to look at the woman who notices his matching eyes immediately. Her hands come up to her mouth which spreads into a smile and tears spring into her eyes. “Congratulations! Who is it?”

The question makes Levi feel ill. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he’d meet his soulmate while trying to rob them. And if his mother found out, she’d be so disappointed.

“It doesn’t matter,” He tells her stiffly. “I can’t be with them.”

The words were far from enough to satisfy his mother though, and she nagged him the rest of the evening with questions about what you looked like and where he’d saw you. He kept his lips sealed until he’d had enough of the interrogation.

“Please, my obligation is to you and nobody else,” he tells his mother. “I don’t know anything about this person. Not only do I have no interest in being with them, I’m certain they have no interest in being with me either.”

“Levi, this is all I’ve ever wanted for you,” his mother begs, taking his hands into her own. “Do not live your life feeling empty and alone. Take this chance and find your happiness.”

Levi shakes his head, refusing to even consider it. His only focus had been himself and his mother for so long that it seemed ridiculous to add a third person into the mix now. It was better to pretend he’d never met you, and he imagined you would feel the same way. How disgusted did you feel knowing your soulmate was the infamous pickpocket? It would be even worse once you found out where he lived and about his mother. Surely you were both better off without each other.

Levi hated the thought of a life without you

Despite his resolution to continue on with life as normal, it only took a few days before Levi caved and went back to the spot where he’d encountered you. The image of your face had never once left his mind, and there was an incessant need to see you again that he could not ignore. He thought perhaps one more look couldn’t hurt, and he had to go back anyway if he wanted to collect enough money to pay his landlord that month.

“I hoped you’d come back.”

Levi had been sure you wouldn’t recognize him after only getting that small glimpse, but apparently fate had engrained his face into your memory as well. He whirled around, his gaze immediately locking with yours. It was wild to see the familiar color of your eyes looking back at him. He had no idea why you’d be here looking for the person that tried to steal from you. The cautious smile on your face as you introduced yourself put him on edge as well. “What’s your name?”

“Levi.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but part of him already felt an attachment to you. What was more, hearing your name for the first time felt like a fire had ben lit inside of him. He shakes his head to get his mind straightened out. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“No!” the panic in your features makes him falter, “Please stay. Can’t we talk for a moment?”

“I’m sorry,” Levi backs away, trying to fight off the instincts rising up inside of him. He didn’t want you to be sad and he didn’t want to disappoint you. He knew though that it was inevitable that he would.

“Levi…”

Hearing his own name spill from your lips was enough to have him second guessing everything. Would he really be able to go the rest of his life without hearing it again? He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to stay away. He’d already come crawling back once already after all. As a last resort, he knew what he had to do. He had to tell you everything. And he did. He revealed his entire life story to you without hardly pausing to take a breath, knowing that every detail would drive your further and further away. Having so soulmate at all was much better than having a soulmate like him.

By the time he finished talking, tears had welled up in his eyes as well. His mother had told him to take the chance for happiness, but instead he’d violently thrown it away. A few seconds passed and suddenly you were slipping your hand into his. It was the wrong reaction to the story but he can’t help but tighten his grip around yours anyway, wanting the comforting feeling you brought to last forever.

“I’m so sorry you and your mother have had to fight so hard just to survive,” you tell him softly. “But you won’t have to live that way any longer, or at least, I want to join the fight with you.”  The genuine kindness and determination in your voice was overwhelming for Levi. Somehow he knew you meant every word, and the image of a brighter future for all three of you began to take shape in his mind. He had no idea if such a future was actually possible, but with you at his side he knew he’d definitely be willing to try. Being born in the roughest and seediest part of town had to be one of the worst fates a person could experience. Levi knew that first hand. He also knew he wouldn’t trade that fate for the world if it meant having you as a soulmate.

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: Daily Dose of Death

Dramione Death Fest 2021:

Saints and Sinners by icepower55 - E, one-shot - You know, there’s never equity in a relationship; someone always cares more or loves more. And in my case, I’m here, and she’s gone.

Her Desperate Cure by Musyc - M, 6 chapters - Hermione is going to have a child. Whatever it takes, whatever she has to do, she will have a child. She refuses to accept anything less. She refuses to fail, no matter the cost.

elysium by another_lonely_writer - T, one-shot - In a world where a Lord has crowned himself King, the lines between Right and Wrong and Black and White blend into a dreary grey as Hermione Granger finds herself striking up a strange alliance with Draco Malfoy. “And what sets me apart from those beasts?” She places a gentle hand upon his chest, a light caress over the heart he loves to pretend doesn’t exist. Slowly, leaning over, resting her head on his shoulder, the steady beat undeniable proof to what she knows to be true. “You’re just as human as me.”

In Your Time of Dying by Modest_K - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy won't let Hermione die, not if he can help it. Even if it means the ultimate sacrifice, something more difficult to offer than his own death.

Escape by grace_lou_freebush - E, one-shot - When Hermione Granger is captured and brought to Malfoy Manor, Draco wiggles his way into the Dark Lord's good graces enough to become one of her guards. When the Dark Lord promises to give Hermione to his Death Eaters, Draco knows the only way for her to survive is to escape. Draco smiled sadly, drawing the back of a finger down her cheek. “I can’t stop seeing you like that.” His finger trailed down to trace one of the bruises on her neck. “These haven’t even healed yet. My mind comes up with a thousand ways you got them.” “Stop, Draco,” she said. “It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done.” Draco stilled. “There was. There is.” Now was the time to tell her. “I’m going to get you out of here. Before the Dark Lord returns.”

Follow by dragonlywriting, raven_maiden - M, one-shot - “You promised me this was the end.” His voice was steady. “Whether we won or lost this one, you’d come with me this time. Leave everything behind.” In the midst of battle, Draco and Hermione share a quiet moment alone. Art and drabble collaboration for the Dramione Death Fest.

Too Late by monsterleadmehome - T, one-shot - Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.

To Love and To Lose by MidnightValkyrie - M, one-shot - It's in fairy tales, not war, that happy endings occur.

A Quota of Bad Luck by forgotten_traveler - M, 6 chapters - In his dreams, Draco took charge once the healer told them her diagnosis. He shoved aside his emotions and asked the valuable questions that he needed to know. His grip on Hermione’s hand assured her that everything would be okay. He even asked the one question that would cause the healer to have such a strong revelation about the illness that he would come up with a cure. When she needed him most, in his mind at least, he acted like a man. But that wasn’t what he did.

Tomorrow by Aneiria - T, one-shot - He would tell her tomorrow...

On the Alter of Ishtar by TJ_Dubs - M, one-shot - This is the house where things die. This is my home. Draco is home for Easter Holiday when the snatchers bring Saint Potter, the Weasel and the Mudblood to his house.

I’ve Never Felt Better by Canttouchthis - T, one-shot - Hermione says her final goodbye to Draco Malfoy.

Marjorie by Ash_ling_ook - T, one-shot - Part of the Dramione Death Fest 2021 Draco writes a letter to his late love, Hermione Granger and reflects on the events leading to their parting. ****** Your waste basket had three things in it. I don't know why I stared at it for so long. A crumpled envelope, a torn piece of parchment with writing on it...I don't know, potions ingredients maybe? And a dried up used tissue. It was stuck to the parchment. I had to rip it away from the parchment so I could keep those useless words. Your perfect penmanship. And fuck me, how I thought far too long about keeping that fucking dried up crusty scrap of tissue as well…

Regretfully Yours by storyofeden - M, one-shot - Draco knows who his soulmate is. Hermione will never find out.

Submit by LittleIvy - not rated, one-shot - It’s been six months since the Battle of Hogwarts. Bloody, brutal, victoryless. A long string of assassinations and espionage followed, shot through with bouts of guerrilla warfare and the quiet, insidious fear that someone could betray you at any moment, of their own volition or through force. I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting.

Freitod by oOMaryAliceOo - G, one-shot - Freitod: noun [ masculine ] /ˈfraitoːt/ The intended ending of one’s life, whether by an active action or passively by omitting life-sustaining measures such as the taking of vital drugs, food or liquids.

Belladonna by dramionetrash - not rated, one-shot - “You...you faked your death?!” He could only nod. He knew she must have hundreds of questions buzzing around her curious mind like a swarm of angry bees, and she looked stung. “How?” “You’ve read Romeo and Juliet?”

Red as the Dawn by JupiterAscending - G, one-shot - It has been 3 weeks since Hermione Granger died in a freak accident at Malfoy Manor. Consumed by his own grief, Draco blames himself for his beloved’s death, and gives in to the destruction devouring his mind.

A promise kept by Katria_Faeyero - T, one-shot - “You are my most precious treasure. And by tomorrow, by the end of the battle, you will be free. You will grow old, go to school. You will learn how to fly and how to create beautiful magic. You will make friends and then fall in love. You will graduate and follow a career that you like. And then you will marry, probably have your own children. You will be happy Scorpius. You will be free."

The Fallout by yanitaag - T, one-shot - Because nothing was like everybody thought. Those naïve, poor souls. Oblivious to everything happening around them or worse they were all refusing to acknowledge it. One day every bit of it came like a tidal wave for which they weren’t prepared. Even Draco who was helping the Order through Hermione left his guard down for a moment, this – this was his final and biggest mistake. He had been so careful but one final doing was his fallout.

The End of a War by taylormariexo - not rated, one-shot -Who deserves redemption in a war? Who deserves death as their fate? Hermione Granger believes those who deserve redemption should receive it, no matter what their past holds. Draco Malfoy doesn't believe he deserves redemption. Yet, who deserves to die in the end?

Two Lines by QueenieBlood - M, one-shot - loss /lɒs/ the fact or process of losing something or someone. •∆• In which Draco and Hermione experience the loss of something dearest to them.

Judgement by darkist_999 - T, one-shot - When the Ministry causes the death of Hermione Granger, every last bit of Draco Malfoy’s control is gone.

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

Monet Issues

Happy COI day! Here's some no-longer-canon-compliant angst because apparently the book itself isn't going to be enough for me :) 

No spoilers here, but I know not everyone is checking tags and such right now, so I'm going to tag a few people who have interacted with my fics before (lmk if you don't want to be!). Don't feel obligated to read this though, it's a little dark. @littlx-songbxrd @alastairxcarstairs @dianasarrow @doitforthecarstairs @archeronesta @thechangeling @styxdrawings @upsidedown-cats @fictionally-fantastic @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood

Fanfiction Masterlist

CW: mention or discussion of alcoholism, physical abuse, bullying, and toxic relationships

(title from the song Monet Issues by Chase Petra, which I may or may not have listened to on repeat while writing this)

Out of all of the people he’d ever snapped at, Alastair Carstairs had never lost his temper with his mother. Not until today. 

“He’s the same. He’s the same as he was last spring, before he left, the same as he was ten years ago. He is never going to change. Not for Cordelia, not for you, not for the baby. Why are you still doing this to yourself?” he pleaded. 

His mother smiled and sighed. “That’s enough, Alastair joon. Your father is flawed, but he loves us. He’s trying. You’ll understand one day, once you’ve fallen in love and started a family of your own.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Just answer one question then: if this child is a boy, will you allow him to do everything I was forced to do?” 

She hardened her expression. “Joonam, that’s just what family-” 

“No. Cordelia never did those things, did she? I never wanted her to. You never wanted her to.” 

“That was different. She’s… Well, she has a big heart, you know. I knew that you could handle such a burden, azizam. I know that it was difficult, but look at the man that you’ve become. I’m so proud of you. These trials life brings us… they only make us stronger.” 

Alastair could feel his stomach twisting as his mother spoke. “No.” 

“Alastair-” 

“No! I never asked for this! I never wanted this! You told me that I needed to be head of the family in his absence, but now that he’s returned, it’s as if the past six months never happened? As if the past decade never happened? He has been absent for ten years. Cordelia was allowed to simply be a child. Because she had a ‘big heart,’ you say? What about mine? Was it always small, or did you, did Father make it that way? Because I genuinely cannot remember a time before. When was I meant to just be a child? When you sent me away to school, to meet all of the boys who were allowed to simply grow up and make mistakes and learn from them while I was busy trying to keep my father alive and my family together? I didn’t need to be stronger. I was a child!” His voice cracked. “I needed to be loved and protected! I needed someone to take care of me, not the other way around! I needed to feel safe! I was a child!” 

He clenched his fists at his sides, seeing white. “It didn’t make me stronger. It made me- it made me broken. It made me bitter and angry, so much so that I pushed it onto everyone else. It made me a monster. Do you know how awful school was? They taught me to hate myself. I became a bully because it was easier to hurt others than let them hurt me. I let nearly every part of me die, just trying to survive it. I knew someone who didn’t, a fourteen-year-old boy who I watched die. And yet I preferred that over the idea of returning home and dealing with Father’s illness again. Do you want to know the truth?” 

He took a step closer to his mother, her expression hard and unreadable. “The truth is that the moment I met someone who I thought might actually take care of me and protect me, I ran to him. I trusted him like I’d never allowed myself to trust anyone. And I stayed with him, even as he lied to me, as he left me cold and alone night after night, as he made it clear time and time again that he would never prioritize me over his own whims and desires. I wanted so badly to feel loved that I gave him all I had, all of my time and energy and attention, knowing that he would never return any of it.” 

He took a step back, finally feeling the tears that had spilled down his cheeks. “I’ve realized now that I deserve better. I deserved better. You deserve better.” He lowered his voice and looked down. He knew that his mother loved him, that Cordelia loved him, that maybe even Elias loved him, in his own way. He just wished he never had to wonder whether his life would be different if someone had cared about him. “I know… I know you love me, that you love all of us. I know that you didn’t have many choices. You were in a terrible situation. But I can’t stand here and watch you sit in your denial any longer, knowing the prices we have both paid for it.” 

He stared at her, waiting for her to respond, but she did not. Alastair did the only thing he knew left to do: he turned and left. As he started towards the staircase, he stopped and spoke one last time. “You were meant to protect me, and you did not. That’s okay, because I’m learning how to be whole again. I’m finding better ways to survive. I am mending my own heart, alone, because it is my only option. But I want to make one thing clear, this is not meant to be the price of family. This did not make me strong, and you have nothing to be proud of.” 

Finally satisfied, he retreated to his room without waiting for a reaction.

***

Sona returned to her room after her son stormed off. Her eyes scanned her dresser, a quiet mess of makeup, perfumes, Elias’ house key. She’d only just given it to him, but it was pointless. He always lost them. At least today, he’d forgotten them in their own home, and not at a bar or on a park bench or in some hansom cab halfway across the city. She looked up at her reflection in the mirror, at the purple spot under her eyes, at the wrinkles now set into her face, and thought of the days when she was younger. Did she always look older than her years?

Elias had been older than her, of course. Much older. Despite her young age, she’d been a widow. Not just a widow, but accused of murder. Despite all that had happened since, she could still remember clearly going before the Mortal Sword, confessing all that had happened, and watching herself acquitted and her husband’s death swept under the rug by a society that did not wish to face the reality of what she had endured. 

She’d been frightened, terrified, certain that no one would ever love after what she had done. She’d always known that her life would be difficult, that it would be unlikely for her to find a respectable husband, that she would never marry for love. Theodor was supposed to be a catch. She was meant to be the luckiest girl alive. She was young and naïve and blood spilled for it over, and over, and over, until she broke. Until everyone around her could see that she was broken. 

She thought that Elias would make her whole. She believed that he would take care of her, that he would love her, that he would provide. She hadn’t known how she could be so lucky, twice. 

Now, she wondered if she should have taken off on that milking cart. 

She’d thought about it many times, what her life could have become if she’d simply left. If she’d run away, away from the Shadow World, away from all that knew her past. She could have started over as a mundane. 

She always pushed the thought aside. If she had run, she would never have had her children. 

Her children. 

Their lives had been much more difficult than she’d dreamed of. They were never going to be easy, not being who they are, not in this world they lived in. Some pains were unavoidable. 

Some were not. 

Alastair had been a happy child, once. He’d carried so much love in his heart, perhaps even more than Cordelia ever had. That is why, when he learned the truth, he agreed so readily to help. Because he loved Cordelia, and her, and Elias, so much. He did not yet know that for some, the cost of love was pain and hopelessness. 

She allowed him to pay that price, the same one that she had paid, because it was easier than accepting the truth. Even as she watched him grow more and more anxious, as dark circles imprinted themselves under his eyes, as Risa shot her disapproving looks every time she asked him to look after Elias, or take care of Cordelia, or clean up some bottles, she allowed that price to be paid. 

She thought that the Shadowhunter Academy could be good for him, that perhaps it would benefit him to be away from the house. She was a fool, and by the time he first returned from school, she could see that the little boy she’d once known had disappeared. 

She could see him again, now, fighting to be heard. She could see that her son was finding himself again, but that it was a slow and painful process, and that he was still very far away. She wondered where her old self had gone, and if she could find her, or if she even still existed at all. 

She’d always known that Alastair was similar to her. Too similar, it seemed, and now, he had made the same mistakes she had. She knew the pain he felt too well, the pain that she could see in his eyes, hear in his voice. She’d thought that was love, but it was not. She’d learned the hard way, and now Alastair had, too. She knew that it was not a coincidence.

You had the biggest heart of them all, she wanted to tell her son. It’s still yours. I’m sorry.

She did not know how. 

She rested a hand on her swollen belly and thought about taking care of an infant while also taking care of her husband. She could no longer not ask anyone else to do it for her. 

For this baby, still unmarred by life’s hardships, for Alastair, for Cordelia, for herself, she took a deep breath and gathered her husband’s few belongings. She threw them in a suitcase, along with a short note, and placed it on their front steps, locking the door behind her.

A/N: Thanks for reading! The Farsi words are just terms of endearment, like “my dear.” I just want to say that I don’t necessarily think everything that Alastair said or Sona thought is true (or that Alastair even believed everything he said), I was just trying to get inside their heads a bit. Forgiving (and blaming) parents is really hard and complicated, and I really wanted to explore how Alastair felt about Sona a bit more. 

[heliads]

Traitor

Y/N L/N has had a treacherous past as a HYDRA sleeper agent, one that she was grateful to put aside when she started dating Peter Parker. The one thing she wasn’t counting on was Peter’s reaction when her secret comes to light.

masterlist

With everything that had happened to you, how did you still have Peter Parker by your side? The boy seemed like an angel, always smiling and happy despite the darkest of storms. You look at him now, beaming and leading you through the streets of New York, and wonder how on Earth you got this lucky.

Well, it didn’t start out so well. As a child, you were raised by the Soviets and trained under HYDRA principles. You knew how to kill a man twelve different ways before you could read a chapter book. Like the other girls of the Red Room, you were cold and calculating, always willing to pull the trigger no matter the cost. The Black Widow, Natalia Romanova, had been displayed before you as a hero, someone you should aspire to be, no matter the cost. Then, she had betrayed the Soviets by becoming an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and her image was wiped from the teachings of the Red Room just as quickly as she had entered them.

When you were around the age of ten, you were transferred from the Red Room to a small town in the United States, and told to remain undercover until you were given new orders. You were a sleeper agent; living life as an ordinary American but prepared to strike at a moment’s notice. There, you had lived for six years, and then you had gotten a call telling you to move to New York. 

You were placed next to Peter Parker so the Soviets could monitor Spider-Man and see if he posed a threat to HYDRA or the Red Room. They had told you to get close to him, and be able to kill him if necessary. Luckily, that particular order had yet to come through.

After getting to know Peter, though, you were faced with an all too tricky predicament. Despite your training, you had fallen for the brown-haired boy, and you knew you couldn’t kill him. Whenever you spent time with him, and saw the same love reflected in his eyes that you felt in your own, it was like a knife slowly twisting in your heart. It would be wrong to hurt this boy after he trusted you and even loved you, and so you started to keep your distance from him.

Yes, it hurt more than anything to see the pain in his eyes when he realized you were avoiding him, but wasn’t it better to know that you were protecting him from himself? You hadn’t counted on one flaw in your plan, and that was Peter’s determination to be true to those he cared about.

He had confronted you about why you were avoiding him, and you were forced to come up with some excuse that didn’t involve you being a Russian spy. You confessed that you had made mistakes in the past, mistakes that haunted you to this day and that you knew you didn’t deserve to be with him. That much was true, at least. Yet despite this tearful attempt to push him away, Peter refused to leave. He had taken your hand, promising that no matter what you had done, he would stand by you. Even your best attempts at getting rid of him were unsuccessful, and so you had allowed yourself the happiness of getting close to him once more.

Natasha Romanoff strides briskly across an office room in the Avengers Tower. She scans over a screen in front of her, quickly poring through pages of data and code. Behind her, the door opens and Tony Stark steps into the room, drinking from a mug of coffee he clings to like it’s a sacred talisman.

“What’s that, Romanoff? S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets or HYDRA?” Natasha turns to face him. “A mix of both, actually. After S.H.I.E.L.D. was revealed to be riddled with HYDRA agents and I revealed all their secrets to the world, I noticed that not all of the files were as easy to access as others. Some, specifically the HYDRA ones, were locked away under heavy firewalls.”

Tony walks over, intrigued. “Judging by the fact that I can read most of the words on that page, I’m assuming you’re almost done hacking your way in.” Natasha nods. “This file is pretty important, too. It’s got a list of all the sleeper agents HYDRA assigned to New York. The other files in the folder cover the rest of the states, but I figured I should start at home and work my way out.”

Tony contemplates this. “I would agree. I better not see any of my interns on that list, though. How much more do you have to do before we read it?” Natasha types in a few last characters, then reloads the file. “Actually, we’re done now. Let’s start from the beginning.” The two friends lean forward, beginning to read the list of names.

It’s a beautiful day in New York. You happen to be on a date with Peter, which makes it even better. The two of you are strolling through the streets, window shopping and laughing until everything seems perfect. Peter loops his arm through yours, and pulls you close to press a light kiss on your cheek. You smile at him, and he smiles back at you.

You’re just rounding a corner to walk another sidestreet when you spy two figures heading briskly towards you. You peer at them, confused, and then a weight starts to solidify in your stomach when you realize it’s Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff, both heading your way with stares that could kill.

Peter has spotted them now too, and seems confused, as if he didn’t expect to see them. You’re about to tug on his arm and encourage him to go another way, but it’s too late. They’ve stopped in front of you. “L/N, please step away from Peter. Immediately.”

Peter looks at you, bewildered. “What’s this about, Mr. Stark?” Romanoff folds her arms across her chest, fixing you with an icy glare. “I’d bet she knows exactly what this is about. See, we just found a file with a list of Soviet and HYDRA sleeper agents in New York. Guess who showed up on that list?”

Peter looks back at you, and the confusion in his eyes slowly turns to betrayal when he notices you can’t quite meet his gaze. “Y/N, tell me this isn’t true. Please, say they’re wrong and you’re not a literal HYDRA agent.” You say nothing, and turn your head away, unable to meet his eyes. Peter steps away from you, horrified. “Are you kidding me? I trusted you. God, all this time when you were talking about ‘mistakes you’d made’ I thought you yelled at your brother, or cheated on your last boyfriend, or something small. Not that you worked for HYDRA!”

He suddenly turns to face Tony, an awful realization starting to crash across his face. “What was her task, Mr. Stark? Why was she in New York?” Tony folds his hands across his chest. “She was here to get close to you, and to kill you if necessary.” The heartbreak and anguish in Peter’s eyes makes you feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest.

He speaks now, in a voice barely above a whisper. “You wanted to kill me.” Finally, you find your voice. “No. I didn’t want to. Once I met you, I knew I couldn’t kill you. That’s why I tried to distance myself from you, remember? I couldn’t hurt you. I love you, Peter, and I left HYDRA behind when I got close to you. They would kill me if I did anything to jeopardize the mission. You know that’s why I had to stay, right? They would kill me!”

Peter fixes you with a deathly stare. “Maybe they should have killed you.” He glares at you one last time, then turns around and walks away. You feel your heart shatter in your chest. Romanoff seems a little surprised at his harsh words, but then she ushers you away from the city. “I didn’t want to do it. I never wanted to hurt him.” You’re babbling nonsense, desperate for someone to understand you, and surprisingly, Romanoff seems to hear you. “I know. I’ve been there too.”

Peter feels numb. It just doesn’t seem real. Y/N- happy, confident, brilliant Y/N- a HYDRA spy? Sent to kill him? He can still see the pain in her eyes when he left her, but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt when Mr. Stark had told him that she was a traitor. She had betrayed him, and so she meant nothing to him. She had to mean nothing to him.

Peter hasn’t seen Y/N since that day he found out the truth about her. She doesn’t show up to school anymore, and he hasn’t encountered her at all, not even a brief glimpse of her face from across the street. Mr. Stark keeps asking if he’s alright, if he wants to talk about Y/N, but Peter just says he’s fine. He doesn’t want to talk, because he knows if he thinks about her for more than a second it will destroy him.

Peter is walking home from school, mind lost in these swirling thoughts, when he notices there’s been a few people following him for the last few blocks. Feeling a little paranoid, he switches to the other side of the street and takes a few quick turns. He checks over his shoulder, and is worried to see that the men are not only still following him, but gaining ground. He speeds up, moving faster and faster. If he could just get to the main part of town, people could see him and he would be safe-

Too late. Hands close with an iron grip on his shoulders. Peter starts to turn around, ready for a fight, but then the pricking sensation of a needle flickers to life on his throat and he stumbles once, twice, and then again. He feels dizzy, and the edges of his vision fade to black.

When Peter wakes up, he’s in some small room. The walls are bare, and the floor is poured concrete. Peter tries to stand up, but he realizes his arms and legs are bound to the chair he’s sitting on. The sudden movement makes his head spin, and the pounding of his head overwhelms him and threatens to knock him unconscious once more.

Peter’s not sure how long he waits in that room. It could have been just a few minutes, or maybe hours. He’s still trying to recover from whatever drug was injected into him when he was taken. Finally, a man dressed all in black enters the room, a handgun clearly visible on his side.

“Parker. Spider-Man. How wonderful to see you.” Peter squints up at the man, silhouetted against the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. “I wish I could say the same.” The man chuckles coldly. “I apologize for the rough treatment. We just had to make sure we got you here before anyone else found us. The Avengers can be such a bother sometimes.”

The man continues on with some speech, full of idle threats and guarantees that Peter has lost. Oddly enough, about five minutes after the man starts monologuing alarm sirens begin to blare across the building. The loud noise makes Peter’s head want to explode. The man in black looks startled at the alarms, but quickly reassures Peter that the large number of HYDRA troops in the building will easily extinguish any threat. Besides, no one knows that Peter is here.

Despite these reassurances, the sounds of gunfire and general panic start to grow in volume until they sound like they’re right next to Peter. The man in black seems tense, as if he is no longer confident in his large number of troops. Suddenly, the door to the room is kicked down, and a shadowy figure enters the room, gun in hand. Peter’s eyes go wide as he recognizes the newcomer- it’s none other than Y/N.

She stands in the doorframe, gun pointed at the man in black. She must have fought her way in, as her clothes are torn and there are lines of blood tracing their way down her face and arms. The bodies of the guards who had once monitored the building lie unmoving in the hallway behind her.

The man in black stares for a moment, then claps his hands together in relief. “Ah, Agent L/N. Just in time. I need you to complete your mission.” Y/N just stares at him in silence, and the man in black continues on. “Kill Peter Parker. Now.”

Peter looks from Y/N to the man. This is it- this is where it all ends. Of course Y/N will kill him now- it’s been her task since she moved here. Yet, she moves her arm quickly, cracking the man in black across the skull with the butt of her gun. He falls to the ground, unconscious, and Y/N races over to Peter and starts untying his bonds.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. This is all my fault- I should have told you everything from the beginning!” Once she finishes untying his bonds, she ushers him to the door. “The way out should be open from here. I’ll hold off any other guards.” She points down the hallway, and cocks her gun, checking the halls for possible HYDRA agents.

When Peter doesn’t move, she looks back at him again. “You have to go, Peter. You have to get to safety.” Peter just puts his hand on her shoulder. “I’m not leaving you.” Y/N shakes her head emphatically. “You don’t have to feel bad for me. I know what I did, and this is my way of paying it back. Go!” Peter still doesn’t move. “It’s alright, Y/N. You did what you had to so you could survive. Please, leave with me.”

Y/N looks at him, surprise and doubt flickering across her face. “I betrayed you, Peter. I betrayed your trust. I don’t deserve your love.” Peter just laughs lightly. “I’m afraid you don’t exactly have a choice about that. Now come on, we’re both getting out of here.” With that, he grabs Y/N’s free hand, and the two of them run off down the hallway.

When they finally make it out of the HYDRA complex, Peter’s able to find a road that leads them back to New York. As they walk back to the city, Peter looks over at Y/N. “I meant what I said, you know. I would rather you survive then turn your back on HYDRA. I don’t want you to risk your life because of me.” Y/N lets a rare smile slip across her cheeks. “I just wish I told you. I was afraid that if you knew the truth about me, you would have left a long time ago.”

Peter shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I love you.” Y/N takes his hand. “I love you too.”

[fan-of-encouragement]

Compassion and Ice Cream

Here's the next installment of my Meet-cute series! This one gets a bit heavier, but it features my best boy, Marcus Pike, and 2 OCs that are near and dear to my heart, Leviya and her daughter Eden. I don't know if I'll continue this, but I might if there's interest.

Warnings: mentions of the Holocaust in respect to the Holocaust museum in DC, some musings on human cruelty, Marcus is having bad day, then he's not.

“Go check out some of the other museums, he says. It’ll be fun, he says.”

Marcus was not having fun. He was having the opposite of fun. He was about as far from fun as…..as…… he couldn’t even put it into words.

Outside. Get outside – okay, sidewalk. Let’s sit for a bit – there you go. That’s better, isn’t it?

No. It wasn’t.

Marcus Pike, special agent for the FBI, brought low by a museum. The Holocaust Museum, to be exact. He knew he’d be seeing the piles of shoes in his nightmares, the sheer depravity and capability of human destruction on full display, and the innocent victims that bore the cost. Not even some time in the reflection room helped, leaving him here, sitting on the sidewalk, not really sure where to go. He wanted to run fight scream cry – he wanted to break something, just to get away from the helplessness of that awful place.

Now don’t get him wrong, it was a brilliantly put together place, but he preferred art museums for a reason. He let himself hate his new coworkers just a bit, as a little treat, for suggesting this. Even more for making him go alone. Freaking sadists.

He stood back up and started to walk. To where, he didn’t know. He just wanted to be away from there. He wandered up the National Mall, and sat on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. The sun was still fairly high in the sky – how long was I in there? – and people were everywhere, scattered across the green space like confetti thrown to celebrate human achievement. Behind him, the massive statue to a dead man loomed over him like some sort of sentinel, keeping watch over his nation for eternity. Marcus normally loved this kind of thing, but right now he just wanted to be alone for a bit –

“Are you okay?”

Marcus nearly jumped out of his skin. In front of him stood a woman – African-American, about 5’2”, mid-30s?– and a little girl with her hair in bunches – probably her daughter, about 5, pink skirt, light-up sneakers – and holding a blue plush dog. The woman was the one who first spoke, but the little girl was the one to approach him. “Mister? Are you alright?”

Marcus really did love kids. He gave her a weak smile, not wanting her to worry. Sweet kid. “I’m alright, just had a bad past couple hours.” He nodded towards the museum he’d vacated a few minutes before. “I made the mistake of going through that place by myself, and I guess I’m still trying to process.”

The small girl and her mother nodded in unison, the child with acceptance and the mother with understanding, before the young one spoke up. “Would ice cream make you feel better? It always makes me feel better when I’m sad!” She came forward and took Marcus’s hand. “Come on, let’s go get ice cream!”

“Eden, remember what I told you about asking people before making plans?” The child’s mother shook her head in exasperation before walking forward and holding out her own hand, which Marcus shook. “Sorry about that, I’m Leviya, but you can call me Lev. Everyone does. And this little rascal is Eden.”

She gave Eden a significant look. “What do you do when you meet new people, Eden?”

Eden grinned, and stuck her own little hand out for a shake. “I’m Eden, what’s your name?”

Marcus mirrored her grin. “Marcus. Marcus Pike. And it’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Eden didn’t want to let go of his hand, it seemed, and kept tugging until he stood back up with a groan. He spotted Lev’s eyes widening just a bit at the sight of first his height, then his badge, which he removed and stuck in his pocket while keeping his hands in clear view. “I’m off the clock,” he explained, which seemed to put her at ease, somewhat. Bending down to get on Eden’s level, he asked his new small friend, “Now, I’m fairly new to the area, but you look like you know all the best places to find ice cream.” He shot her mom a questioning glance. “Care to lead the way, if your mom is okay with it?”

After getting a nod from her mother, Eden grabbed Marcus’s larger hand in her small one, holding on to a couple fingers, really, and led the way, babbling about how this one place was her absolute favorite, and had all the best flavors, and try as he might Marcus could not stop grinning at her enthusiasm. Making eye contact with Lev on the opposite side of a very enthusiastic kid, he felt his heart lighten a bit.

Humanity could be cruel and destructive.

But it also had kids like Eden, who checked in with strangers and loved ice cream. Women like Leviya, who allowed compassion to overcome some pretty strong barriers between herself and a stranger in need of a friend.

Today was definitely looking up.

~~~~

Tagging @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily and @babypedrito because y'all have been so encouraging, and @danniburgh because you wrote me that wonderful Marcus fic recently and I want to give something back.

[unseeliefaelass]

Darksiders: Origins

Chapter 1: How Things Start

Ale had begun things as always that day. Doing her work as Elder of her clan around their village. By midday however, the woods around her sang within her mind. Informing her of a coming visitor, who upon hearing the name of him Ale was quite apprehensive. Nevertheless she went on to greet the man who would be making his arrival. He stuck out against the natural beauty around him, clanking softly with his gait. He was already tall to begin with, his mechanical enhancements made him taller still. One rabbit ear was chopped in half, and barely twitched as the other remained intact. The intact ear twitched far better, but still held a sort of semiring around it. A small crystal on the ring's end was centered at his ear canal, which Ale recognized as his way of communicating long distance when away from his own clan. The rest of his body held a thin balance of his organic body and the mechanical 'enhancements' to it. The most well known of those, being his red eyes. They had originally been a different color, but Ale couldn't recall it anymore. They were red as currants, whilst any time his 'pupils' dilated or constricted they appeared like the apeture of a camera. Which very few races in creation had truly mastered by this time in history.

In this way and more, Llildan was a true reflection of his clan and ideals. He believed in achieving progress to become the best of one's self was the best path in life. His expansion however, was coming at the cost of his sanity. He even had a dial on the right side of his head that would switch off some of his emotions. Which he only did when in battle to make it easier on his psyche supposedly. So for now it was switched on, and he could feel some semblance of emotion. At least that's how it always seemed to Ale. Llildan could tell that much as he gazed upon his daughter. Her white kinked hair was worn down as she preferred it. Reminding him of her Mother in the moment. Her clothing was also made from natural material, from Limt fur gained from Limts Ale would shear during summer months. Ale also differed from her Father in ideals. Being a pacifist in nature, Ale always believed in trying to find peaceful resolutions first. That violence shouldn't be a first choice, and thus always the last resort. But most of all she didn't believe in her Father's choice to attach a dial to his brain and head that could turn off his emotions. As Ale always believed very deeply that emotions were something to let out when needed and not to keep bottled up or caged in. These conflicting ideologies often caused the two to come to arguments at times, and there certainly was a tension in this moment.

One could feel it easily between both scrutinizing gazes, though both just as quickly softened after a moment.

"Ceiser.", Ale greeted him.

Llildan nodded simply, "Atari."

Cocking her head Ale inquired, "I'm assuming this isn't a social call? Due to our past encounters and such."

"I'm afraid you're right..", Llildan sighed before continuing, "I've been commissioned by a being that I'm....less than thrilled to work with. But what she offers is...useful to me. More so than you may think."

Ale's head cocked the other way, "And that is what exactly?"

"Access to Arkaddian technology. They're among the most advanced in such things, if not THE most advanced. Their work could benefit the clan, our research, my advancements, and more."

"What is the price then? Who is it that you choose to work with despite not being keen without such bribery?" Ale chided.

"Lilith, the Mother of Monsters herself."

Ale froze a moment at Llildan's serious tone, and quietly gasped at the name he told her, "Ceiser....are you sure..that this is wise? Why would you..even consider it? What if she's just using you? She's known for such things."

Llildan raised his hand dismissively, "Yes I know, you needn't remind me girl. I am fully aware she may go back on her bargain, but I found a possible way to ensure she can't. Regardless I will work with her as commissioned to, and thus you will not be dealing with her much. If at all."

Ale's eyes widened, "You've told her I'd help you with whatever she wants?"

"No. What I told her, was that it was possible, yet unlikely given how strained things are between us. I'll not force your hand in this, due to the risks involved. I will say this however, she wants quick, efficient results. Through your magic, and the healing biopods the forest grants you with, we could make things go much more smoothly. The sooner it finishes, the sooner she's out of our hair after all. Am I not correct?"

Sighing Ale responded after some thought, "Very well Ceiser. Just know I do this NOT for that twisted Demonness, but because despite all our troubles you are still my Father. Losing Mother was hard enough, helping you now may prevent the same happening to you next."

Llildan nods before letting her return home for a time. So that she may sort out her affairs and leave someone in charge in her stead. But leaving herself open to being asked for anything her clan may need. Llildan handled things with his clan similarly, so he wouldn't judge or criticize this choice. Instead he waited patiently on his daughter. Once she was finally ready, the two used a teleportation spell to return to Llildan's clan territory in the Fae Realm's version of what would become Russia for humanity so many eons later. At this time however, Llildan led Ale further on to his home. Which was now a mix of the natural mountains and metals of various kinds humming with tech. Ale could even compare it to High Elven architecture in places. Even she could admit it was a beautiful if delicate balance of the two, though she wasn't in the mood to do so aloud. Instead she continued on after her Father in silence. That is until 'she' greeted the two.

A sultry, tempting voice rose up from the silence, "Welcome back Grand Elder Llildan."

Ale watched as the Demonness stepped forward. Lilith could only be described as the very concept of Lust given form, then twisted together with doses of the femme fatale and survivor archetypes respectively. Her mere presence alone would intimidate and turn on the Drow Elves' queen in Ale's eyes. Her voice and choice of words held a tender yet terrifying mix of authority and eroticism. Her body language captivated and enticed all who viewed her with deadly efficiency. Ale was suddenly caught off guard by Lilith being right in front of her.

Jolted from her thoughts with one sentence alone, "Oh my, she really is a spitting image of her Mother isn't she? Seems shorter than her though."

"You are inaccurate in that. Her Mother while taller was...closer to Ale's height than you may think. I just make....made it easy to miss with my own height." Llildan replied, forcing back the pain that rose up from mentioning his wife. As well as stepping between Ale and Lilith. Like her, Llildan wasn't keen on losing another family member.

"Oh? Ohohoho....well my mistake then." Lilith said as her hand, which had cupped Ale's chin a bit, slid away. Ale couldn't quite explain it, but the lingering feeling of longing washed over her as Lilith released her. Though it quickly passed as she witnessed the Demonness approach her Father next, "And it seems you are right...about your height hiding your wife and daughter's I mean."

Llildan grabbed the wrist of the hand attempting to touch him. His own hand forming a vice grip that he tenced in silence as he stared her down. The clearest of warnings he'd be giving the Demonness. Lilith chuckled before apologizing, giving Llildan reason enough to release her wrist. From there he told her, "If you're quite finished with...THAT..we have work to do yes?"

Lilith sighed in mild annoyance, "Well you're no fun. No matter though, I've plenty of toys waiting for me at home. In regards to our business, we need a private room. One that only the four of us can and should enter."

"Four of us?", Ale questioned with yet another slight head cock.

Lilith turned around a bit more annoyed before suddenly calming in realization, "Oh yes, that's right. You've not met him yet, the fruit of my recent labors. Which I intend to duplicate with your help. Absalom!"

Ale glanced towards a door that then opened, revealing a truly large man. As tall as Llildan was with enhancements added on, but far larger than him in terms of sheer mass. His body may as well have been pure muscle, though he clearly some fat to him as well. Just enough to still be fit, but it was in fact there. He lumbered towards Llildan and Ale slowly, and with authority to rival Lilith's own. A gruff, commanding voice came from his lips, "So, this small rabbit is the 'extra help' you mentioned?"

"She is needed my child, and therefore I expect you to show some kind of respect. Am I clear?" Lilith ordered him.

"Transparently, Mother. I shall hold my tongue, for now."

Llildan then ushered everyone to another room in silence, this time a more annoyed variant of it. Lilith went around it in seemingly pure bliss, clearly enjoying the space. Though she did briefly grimace at the structure in the middle, "Though this could've been...thinner I guess?"

"It is what the pods shall be connected to. Your...'children' will be grown in them, and this structure is necessary to that goal. I assure you of that much Lilith.", Llildan told her in his annoyance, however minor it was.

Lilith glanced his way with little care, "Oh is that so? Well then pardon me. I'll be more..considerate of your knowledge about the technology you possess. Just know you may find the Arkaddian technology I have to be more...convenient. In more ways than one at that."

With all said and done, Llildan pushed a button that revealed sliding doors in the floor that opened up. Each one leading to a patch of dirt as big as each door, and being deep enough to accommodate for the roots of each pod. Upon receiving a nod from her Father, Ale began planting the seeds of each pod into the patches. Llildan then started up his machine as Ale used her magic to get each pod to grow quickly. Once they were the size of the average person Ale stopped, but Lilith insisted she continue longer. Looking to her Father briefly, she received another nod and thus continued. Only when Lilith asked for her to stop did she do so. These were the longest, and biggest pods Ale had ever grown. Ale could barely make out Lilith's reasoning behind needing their exaggerated size. Luckily Llildan explained it once he had her laying down. In short, Lilith intended for each 'child' to grow into adulthood. However, she wanted them as 'unimpeded' as possible. Having stressed that vehemently to Llildan earlier on in their correspondence up to this point. Ale was to be the pods' caretaker, as she did grow the pods. Thus by proxy, she was to care for the 'children'. A sort of midwife type job as Lilith apparently put it. Ale agreed to the task, but reminded Llildan of her reason for aiding him with Lilith's machinations at all. He understood of course, and finally let her rest before continuing his own part of the task. Maintaining the machinical components of this whole thing.

[nkp1981]

Somewhere in North Africa in the 12th century

Yusuf jumped down from his horse, when he saw a man coming down from the road on the cliffside. He gave the harness to Nicolo and caressed his fingers discreetly and gave him a smile, before going over to the man to ask about their options further ahead.

“There was a small landslide yesterday which means that there is rocks and mud on the road further up, which almost cost me my mule, when it got caught in the mud. It was a miracle, that we both didn’t get killed.” The man explained and started to check over the mule for any injuries. “And that’s the only road?” Yusuf wanted to know and looked up at the road. “There is also a road about a day from here, but there is no guarantee you won’t get robbed there especially if you are traveling with one of his kind.” The man replied referring to Nicolo and looked at Yusuf with contempt, before he started to drag his mule again. Yusuf just shook his head at the man and his opinions, because Yusuf knew what the man missed out on by thinking like that.   

“What do you think?” Yusuf wanted to know when he had told Nicolo about their options. “If we go back, we will have lost days of traveling, which means, we will be paid less.” Nicolo replied and leaned up against his horse. They had taken the job to transport some freight for a merchant, since it was on their way and it was easy money. “Also, we must get three tired animals over the mountain, so what we really should be asking ourselves is, when do we take some rest? Before or after.” Nicolo asked, which meant he had excluded going back. “If it rains like last night I don’t fancy staying here.” Yusuf replied. “Let me lead the way, since you are dragging two animals.” Nicolo suggested and Yusuf nodded. “Be careful, Habibi.” Yusuf said as the last thing, before they started to drag the animals over the mountain.

Wherever Nicolo placed his foot, Yusuf followed closely after and when they had got past the mud, they stopped to get some of the mud of their own feet and the animal’s hoofs. When Yusuf almost had finished with the mule’s last hoof, he heard Nicolo scream, and when he looked up Nicolo was gone. A fear Yusuf hadn’t felt before flooded over him, when he couldn’t see Nicolo anywhere, and he rushed up to Nicolo’s horse, who still was prancing because of a snake, and he caught the harness, while he kicked the snake away. When the horse had calmed down a bit, Yusuf looked down into the ravine, where he couldn’t see Nicolo at all, so he started to shout Nicolo’s name. When he didn’t get any answers, but got stones in the head instead, he looked up at the slope, where he could see that it was only a matter of time. before a new landslide would occur. He cursed the man, who deliberately had kept from Yusuf, that the road was more dangerous than it was. He then quickly tied all the animals together, before he started to search for a way down to the ravine as fast as he could, while he prayed like never before, that Nicolo still would be alive, when he once found him.

Nicolo took a deep gasp of air and sat up when life kicked in again. It took him another moment, before he had gathered himself and after taking some more deep breaths, he stood up and he looked up at the mountain he had felt down from. While he was assessing the surroundings for a way out of the ravine and back to Yusuf, he saw the rock that had pierced his back head and he kicked it away in anger, before he started to walk down a narrow path. As he walked, he could feel how wet his shirt was from the blood and longed for some water to get washed. He hated being dirty and sweaty.

When Nicolo heard someone calling his name, he smiled over once again over the feelings it gave him, whenever Yusuf said his name, and he sank down on his knees tired but happy that they had found each other once again. It was also there the adrenaline disappeared and Nicolo could feel that he had walked on a broken leg and that the leg still was healing up. “I’m here.” Nicolo shouted back and watched as Yusuf dropped the harnesses and ran over to Nicolo, where he pulled Nicolo into his embrace and Nicolo also took around Yusuf. They sat like that for a bit with eyes closed thankfully for, that they both still were alive.

“For a moment, I really thought, I had lost you for good.” Yusuf said relieved when he had checked Nicolo over and kissed every inch of Nicolo’s face before he said something in Arabic. “That I didn’t understand.” Nicolo replied and smiled over the feelings it gave him, whenever Yusuf kissed him. “I just thanked God for answering my prayers about bringing you back to me alive.” Yusuf said, which made Nicolo sigh. “Yeah, I know it. You lost your faith in Jerusalem.” Yusuf added and gave Nicolo’s hand a squeeze. “If anything, that fall shows us that it takes more to kill us.” Nicolo replied, which made Yusuf’s face change from relief to serious. “I thought, we had agreed on, that you should abandon those kinds of thoughts of what will kill us, when that day comes.” Yusuf said in an angry tone, while he let go of Nicolo’s hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you angry, but believe me, when I say, that it’s true I lost my faith in God in the carnage the siege of Jerusalem was, but I also found a new faith after Jerusalem, that made me abandon those dark thoughts for good.” Nicolo replied and took Yusuf’s face between his hands before he could say anything and started to caress Yusuf’s cheeks. “And that faith is you, my love. You had faith in me, when I barely could walk through the desert and was so lost in my own mind, that I couldn’t see tomorrow but you could, and you showed me it by having patience. You had faith in me when all I were was a flawed man by not only loving my mistakes and sins but also the man, you thought I could be and thanks to your faith, patience and love, I’m a better man today than I was yesterday, Yusuf.” Nicolo replied with a smile. “Have anyone ever told you that you’re a great poet?” Yusuf asked and he knew he would cherish those words until his last breath. “Let’s keep it between us. I got a reputation to uphold.” Nicolo joked with a smile and let Yusuf kiss him again. “Fine then. Should we find some water so you can get cleaned?” Yusuf asked and Nicolo nodded, before Yusuf helped him up.    

When they reached a creak, Nicolo started to get the saddle of his horse, but Yusuf placed a hand over his. “Let me, so you can get washed.” Yusuf said in a warm tone and handed Nicolo a cloth, who just nodded and went down to the creak, where he kneeled and took his shirt off, before he closed his eyes. He could still feel the fall and waking up at the bottom of the ravine. Angry he hit the water that the fall had been an unnecessary death because he knew that it would probably mean he would have less time in the world with Yusuf. Suddenly Nicolo felled a pair of strong arms around him holding him tight and Nicolo closed his eyes and let the tears run, because he knew Yusuf wouldn’t mind, because he understood the feelings all too well.

When Yusuf felt that Nicolo had somewhat regained himself, he ran gently a couple of fingers over Nicolo’s cheeks and gave him a smile. “Would you let me?” Yusuf asked and Nicolo gave him the cloth. Yusuf then dipped it in the cold water, before he started to wash Nicolo back, who closed his eyes. Every time Yusuf’s fingers touched Nicolo’s skin, Nicolo felt that life returned to him making him even stronger than before. “Sorry for not seeing the snake.” Nicolo said, while he looked at Yusuf’s reflection in the water. “Don’t think more about it. We're both still here and that’s what all that matters.” Yusuf replied and dipped the cloth again, before resuming to clean Nicolo’s back, arms, hands and face, while he also checked if he had healed up.  “You have to settle with one of my shirts, since you gave the other one you had away.” Yusuf said and placed the shirt between Nicolo’s hands. “I don’t mind.” Nicolo replied grateful and gave him a weak tired smile. “Take the time you need, while I get a fire going so we can get something to eat and some sleep.” Yusuf said and stood up. “I don’t know if I can sleep.” Nicolo replied trying not to sound scared. “I promise to look after you, while you sleep. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you tonight.” Yusuf promised and gave Nicolo’s shoulder a squeeze.

After eating, Nicolo laid his head in Yusuf’s lap, where he started to run a couple of fingers through Nicolo’s hair, while humming a melody. “What’s that song?” Nicolo asked and looked up at Yusuf. “My mother always used to hum it to me, when I was a child, whenever I got scared, but I can’t remember the words anymore. See if you can sleep.” Yusuf replied and returned to humming the melody that calmed Nicolo enough, so he fell asleep. It wasn’t the last time Yusuf would do it to calm Nicolo, whenever he got scared.

my creation

[imactuallynotsorry]

Office

Robin x MC (Emma)

It was a hectic and exhausting day at the office, doing a marathon just to get from one point of the building to the next and back. From overseeing the drop off of their prototypes at the robotic Lab, to the multiple urgent documents that had to be sent out two days ago but Sam idiotic self forgot to sign and have his actual assistant mail them. Robbin had to work his charm, and kiss some ass, in order to fix his brother's mistake just to make sure the documents were delivered without complications to Dalton’s partnerships. And the oh so many meetings he needed to be present for, were draining him. 

Robin was making his way back from lunch when a tall, slim woman talking to the receptionist caught his attention. His eyes drifting down long wild curls, watching the way her hips and ass filled those jeans. A familiar soft feminine voice reached his ears. Snapping  out of the trance, Robin quickly jerked his head to the ceiling, realizing the stranger he was gushing on was Emma. Running his hands through his hair, a weak last attempt of combing his heated thoughts out of his head. Be professional, Robin.  

“Emma!”,a wide grin was plastered on his face, “It’s delightful to see you again!” Woow, did he just sound as enthusiastic as M&M with one of their experiments? Robin’s excitement was met with an equally wide smile from Emma, “Pleasure to see you again.” Deciding to ignore the pleasant warmth he felt at her assertion, and instead focusing on teasing her, “Ready to drown together?” Though it wasn’t much of teasing but just being realistic. Robin knew from past experiences how demanding Sofia was and how much she loved to micromanage every little step of the way. Emma’s smile faded, and a serious frown took its place, as if double guessing agreeing to help him out, “You really aren’t trying to sell this, huh”. Robin couldn't help himself, throwing his head backwards in laughter, “Come on Emma! I thought we could be honest with each other. Let's go get our hands dirty” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at the last part, leading them to his office. Without realizing it, Robin had softly placed his right hand on Emma’s lower back. Allowing himself to enjoy the warmth feeling he got from the contact this time. 

They worked besides each other in perfect sync, stopping only to steal glances from each other now and then, hoping the other wouldn't catch them in the act. Robin was amazed at how Emma’s soft voice shifted to a strong and determined tone while speaking with the event decorators. Thought it was hot when she lightly bit her lower lip right after succeeding in getting what she was demanding, adorable when she wrinkled her nose while reading an exaggerated demand from Sofia’s everlasting list. Found her little not so innocent smirk thrilling when she suggested sneaking in sliders to the menu. No wonder the twins cherished her so much, it was hard to look at her and not automatically love her. 

Need a drink. Getting up from behind his desk and slowly making his way to the drink cart; he needed to collect his thoughts. Reaching the golden shelf, Robin mentally kicked himself for only ever stocking up on whiskey. He poured two glasses of Balvenie and carefully handed one to Emma. 

“Whiskey? A man after my own heart”, a faint pleased moan escaped her lips as the whiskey made contact with her tongue. Robin smirks into his glass, satisfied with her reaction. They stayed like that for a while, just sipping on their drink quietly; Emma in her seat adjacent to where Robin stood leaning against the drink cart.  First to break the silence was Emma, “I have to say, I'm pretty impressed by the way you tackle everything, when we first met I figured you were..” she trails off, searching for the right words. “Just a party boy?” Robin finished for her in a more aggressive tone than he meant to. Emma wasn’t trying to offend him, he knows that, but for some reason it bothered him that’s how she saw him. Emma responded with a timid tone he hadn't heard her use before, “Can you blame me?” No. And he really couldn’t blame Sam either for telling her about his player party boy reputation. It's his own, for selecting that to be the cover he chose to present to the world. 

Before realizing it, Robin spilled everything to Emma, needing her to understand there was more to him than the last-call strangers he took home and the social events he filled his nights with. Wanted her to see he wasn't just ‘Sam’s assistant’ but a vital part of Delton Inc; wanted her to know his carefree, wild child persona was a defense mechanism, one that comes from years of working hard, trying your best and still not being enough. Thankful doesn't even begin to describe how he felt towards the Delton’s, but everything he has, from the clothes off his back to his position in the company could only be credited to his passionate work ethic. 

Even accidentally mentioning the fact that Sam is in an arranged marriage. Unlike with everything else he had mentioned so far, he wondered why Emma didn't bat an eye at this revelation. “I can tell there's no love when they stare at each other. Don't think they ever even kissed before” Emma stated factually as if answering Robin’s unspoken question. Did she like Sam? Everyone did, why would she be the exception? He tried to give her an unreadable look, one that wouldn’t portray how envious he felt towards his brother. So he reflected the only way he knew how, by shamelessly flirting, “In front of the kids, probably not” Robin looked down at his half empathy whiskey glass, before glancing towards her with a smirk plaster on his face, only continuing after coming into contact with brown eyes, “But they're two young, attractive adults sharing a drink and killing time” he made a point of lifting his glass in front of him, revealing they both were doing just that right now. Robin nudges forward, gazing at Emma flirtatiously, admiring how her lips parted just lightly as he inch closer, “Stranger things have happened.” 

Reluctantly, Robin made his way back to his seat on the other side of the desk, fighting the urge to lift Emma up, pushing her against the wall and proving which brother she needs to desire. Professional, you’re in the office, keep it professional.

Emma takes a sip of her drink as she tries to process everything, ultimately deciding to change the subject, “So why weren’t you set up?” Robin was both thrilled that they were done talking about the golden boy but irk by the turn of events. He was used to people querying about his life, but he could always shake them off with a bullshit answer. Not Em. She had a way of tearing down his wall, making him an open book for her prying eyes. Hesitantly, Robin confesses that love was just not meant for him. He was a good lay and a fun time but not worth the effort for the long shot. Waiting for the last shoe to fall because the past continuously proves him so, and it would hurt ten folds as the previews time. 

“Just because you haven't found your person..” She pauses as she reaches across the desk, interwinding her fingers to Robins before continuing, “I'm sorry if someone made you think it's hard to love you, but that ‘can’t eat, can’t sleep’ kind of love is out there”. She gives him a sad understanding smile, squishing his hand before leaning back, taking the warmth of her touch with her. Robin didn’t like the absence of her, but he hated that wistful look in her face more. 

“Did I ever tell you about the time Sofia tried to order pizza through the phone? It was hilarious she asked if the caterers had been to le cordon bleu or if it was just the chef….. You know, the caterers as in the delivery guy.” She threw her head back and laughed at that, loud and rich, her black hair spilling from her shoulder to her back. Robin couldn't help but to join her, her laughter contagious, he could definitely listen to it forever. Emma continued to giggle softly, accidentally spilling the whiskey on her top.

  “Crap!” She starts frantically apologizing, rumbling on about how the Balvenie cost more than her degree and she just wasted it on her shirt. Robin shakes his head as he springs up and grabs a handful of napkins, she’s too cute. 

Robin was about to help dab the stain away when he stepped back, realizing that would require him to touch Emma’s chest. “ I know how this sounds but the stain is less likely to set if you take off the top” Girls wear undershirts, right? This was safer than being close proximity to her bosom. 

  Gazing up through her eyelashes, Emma gives him a devilish smile, “Great idea.” That’s all the warning Robin got. She reaches for the hems of her top, curls cascading down as she pulls it over her head. He stared at her in awe. “Fuck” he gasps as he drops his head to her breast. Never a fan of blue, but staring back at him was a beautiful turquoise lace bra offering him a front row seat of the gorgeous view Em was.  

“Focus please, I’m going to be pissed if I got half naked in the office for nothing.” Got naked for nothing. Wait, she wanted him to make a move? Was that an indirect permission to ravish her mouth with his tongue? Did she crave being bent over his desk as much as he wanted her? Robin swallowed roughly. He never had trouble reading hints before so why couldn't his brain and body correlate. 

And of course his brother would choose this exact moment to interrupt them.

“Sam have you ever heard of knocking!” A pissed off Emma quickly slipped her shirt back over her shoulder. Robin turns a bit, putting himself between her and Sam in an attempt to help cover her, making Sam huff in annoyance. Robin smirks letting his chest beam with pride, marveling at how opposite Em’s reaction was to be seen in her lingerie by both brothers, creating a sullen look to take over Sam’s.

His possessiveness and territorial demeanor made sense now. It was clear, how obviously into her Sam is. It didn’t seem to matter that he is an engaged man, Emma was the crack in Sam’s perfect golden boy persona. “I’ve left you alone with Robin enough for one day, ready to go home...” Sam’s eyes darken as they dart to Robin… “Unless you still have some unfinished business here.” 

Cheerfully Emma chipped in that she had already accepted a ride from Robin, casting sourness to appear in Sam's face and a cockiness on Robin’s. Though it was a lie, he hadn’t offered Emma a ride, but it was a lie Robin was more than glad to comply with if it meant spending more time with her and antagonizing Sam.

*****************************************************************************************

“Em, have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?” Robin asked as she looked down at the bike skeptically. It wasn’t til they were in the Delton parking garage that he remembered he rode his bike to work this morning. Riding his motorcycle had been an exciting change of pace, now looking at Em’s terrified face, it just seemed dumb. 

Emma started to walk backwards, stuttering, “Um sa..Sam’s probably still close, maybe he-“ 

“Just trust me, I won’t let you get hurt,” he said, tossing her the helmet. She sighed and pulled it over her head. 

Robin stood in front of the bike with his hands on the handlebars and motioned for Em to come closer. “Besides, I know you’ve been dying for an excuse to get all over this”, lifting his arms, rubbing them seductively in circular motion, all over his broad chest while wiggling his eyebrows almost comically. 

Shoulders visually relaxing, she makes her way to him, chuckling , “In your dreams lover boy”. “Honey, you do a lot more and wear a lot less in my dreams”, Robin corrects her.

A light pink shade appears in Emma’s checks, she returns his bright grin with a shy smile of her own. Coming to a stop right in front of him, she tries to tuck a lock of loose hair behind her ear but she’s met with hard metal. Snickering, Robin reaches out to close the shield. “You’re wearing my helmet, dummy”. Messing with Sam was fun, but making Em blush? Now that was his new favorite thing. 

“Climb behind, and hold onto me”. Emma does as she’s told, only hesitating for a second before wrapping her arms around Robin’s torso. He turns on the ignition and sets the kill switch to “on” making the motorcycle roar to life. Emma tightens  her grip, flushing her chest close as humanly possible against his back. Robin looks over his shoulder smiling, “Got her started and you’re still in one piece, so far so good”. 

“Still? Are you planning on breaking me apart?” Emma said with a glint of smile. Turning back around Robin murmured, “You know what they say, if it isn’t rough..” 

With a simple twist of his wrist, they're zooming off through the garage doors. The tension from work, he didn’t even realize he was carrying, evaporates as the fresh air hits. Robin skillfully leans into the swerves and corners of the road. His attention totally focus on what he is doing when the smell of vanilla and lavender fill his senses. Emma. Comforting. That's interesting. Having her press up against him was exhilarating but oddly comforting. Like she was much part of the adrenaline and freedom as the demon rumbling between his legs, and miles speeding away beneath its balck wheels.

 What would have been a forty-five minute ride in the subway or even a car, took only fifteen on the bike. Emma instantaneously jumped off the motorcycle as soon as he parks. Remembering her scared reaction,Robin winced, maybe he shouldn't had accelerated right off the bat, “Look Em-”

“That was unbelievably incredible! You were all rrrrrrrrRRRRR!!! And the bike just vvvrrrrrrrrrrAAAAAAHHHHHH” she clapped her hands together making a loud clack, “And I was just in the back like WAAAAAAAAA but the BIKE was like pa pa pa”  She was shocked, “ YOU! You were so calm and collected!” Robin almost fell throwing his head back laughing as Emma tried to mimic riding the motorcycle with her hand motions. There was a jolt of satisfaction across his heart, “Alright settle down, greyhound”. Emma placed her hands across her chest in fake shock. 

Robin swings his leg over after killing the engine, steping in front of her with a soft smile on his lips. Placing a hand in each side of her head, he delicately lifts up the helmet,rosy cheeks coming into view, “Yikes, maybe you should keep it to help hide that” he points at her face as he crunches up his face. 

“You’re an ass!”, Emma halfheartedly punches his chest. He reaches for her wrist and holds her against his chest, close enough that they’re breathing the same air. She inhales, her plump lips parting slightly. They weren’t in the office anymore. Could easily close the gap if he just leaned- “Ah-HUM” Still embracing her, he turns towards the unwelcoming interruption. Of course, of course, it was Sam.

 “Appreciated it, if you didn’t include what’s MY -“ Sam clears his throat as he catches Emma narrowing her eyes at him, “the kids nanny into your flavor of the week.” Still holding on to her hand, Robin steps back to have a full view of Emma again, “look at her, one day wouldn’t be enough!” “You couldn’t handle a woman like me”, Emma teased. “Is that a challenge?” Robin questioned back.

A pinched expression crosses Sam, his hands forming into fist, “We should head inside, Emma”. She purred, noticeably poring her eyes over Robin's body, “Goodnight, cutie.” Clenching and unclenching his jaw multiple times, Sam gave Robin one last stormy look before striding to the door. 

This was a first for Robin: seeing his brother so worked up for his flirting. A weakness Robin was willing to use for his own amusement. 

[avengersassemble-fics]

What Used to Be

Summary: The Mandalorian and the Child are running across the galaxy evading the bounty hunters sent to retrieve them. Along the way, the two encounter many different people, from back stabbers, to liars, and those who want them dead. Resources seem to run out more quickly with a 50-year old toddler, and stopping on the outer rim planet known as Taris is the next stop for the (not so) lone hunter.

Word Count 3.9k

AN: oops my heart went FUCK. what can i say i get an idea and i gotta see it through aha

part 01/??

The Razor Crest settles on the landing pad and the sound of pressure releasing from the landing gears sizzles outside. Multiple switches are flipped as the engines are powered down by its pilot, and the final whizzing sounds fill the ships metal interior. In that moment, the ship is finally quiet, but it only last a short few seconds before cooing is heard from the seat next to the Mandalorian.

The Child has had the ball in its grasps since jumping to hyperspace after their last excursion, occupying its attention for the last few parsecs, but upon realizing they were stopped once again, its attention was on its protector. The Mandalorian stood from his seat and gently picked up the small creature from the seat beside him, securing it in one arm as he began his descent down the stairs from the cockpit. As his feet hit the metal flooring, he stepped aside and opened up the secured hatch he kept The Child in while he was away. Gently, he set the green toddler down on the makeshift bed, and handed him back the ball he was oh so fascinated with.

“I’ll come back soon,” the monotone voice projected. At times it was unknown if the toddler understood him, but nonetheless the child's ears fell and the Mandalorian shut the hatch again, concealing The Child from prying eyes. The hunter took a couple steps backwards, and opened up the hidden arsenal, grabbing his Amban rifle and securing it firmly against his back. By now, there must’ve been a dock official waiting for him to exit his ship, and so he was ready to retrieve some much needed supplies. With the push of a button, the Mandalorian watched through his helmet as his ramp descended ahead of him, sunshine filtering in as it lowered.

Just as he expected, there was a dock official with a tablet in arm waiting for his descent down the ramp. The Mandalorians armor thudded as his boots rocked down the ramp and onto the ground where the other, notably smaller male, was waiting.

“I don’t see your ship in my database,” he stated. The Mandalorian had his eyes locked on the other male, who only stared blankly into his helmet, a trickle of sweat beaded down the side of his cheek. The armored man reached his gloved hands into his belt, and fished out a medium sized amount of money from a secured place.

“This should cover the dock for the day,” the monotone voice said, releasing the money into the palm of the official. The pale man rubbed the money in his hand before giving the man behind the helmet a small grin, and stepped aside, “Welcome to Taris.”

The Mandalorian strutted past the dock official towards a bulk heavy door that parted automatically for him to enter. Taris was once claimed to have been a marvelous planet which invited overpopulation and corruption before being decimated by the Sith empire. Stories of those horrendous times was now a part of history, but with time the city almost rebuilt itself, just never to its glory days. Now, as the Mandalorian walked down a hallway to a cluster of shops, it was a large city that didn’t even hold a flame to Coruscant, it was eerily quiet yet populated. He pushed his way through to another door that opened to his presence, and he wandered inside. The shop was nearly empty, a couple of patrons sat at random tables with drinks in their hands, and the Mandalorian glanced over them once, but still walked towards the person behind the counter.

The human behind the counter looked up from their holopad, looking over the hunter with a scowl, “I’ve only ever heard stories of the Mandalorians.. Never did I think I would see one in the flesh.”

Ignoring his comments, the Mandalorian set some money on the counter, “I’m in need of supplies. Whatever food and medical supplies you have will do.”

The shopkeeper glanced down at the shining money on the counter and grumbled lowly, sliding it back towards the masked man, “I will not serve your kind here.”

The Mandalorian, looked down at the counter, and back up at the shopkeeper, before someone else’s voice radiated proudly in the room, “Now Larrim don’t be that way to a guest,” it started. The Mandalorian moved his head slightly to look over his shoulder, noticing a well dressed, older male who had entered the shop just now, followed closely by two armoured soldiers, who had a dead look in their faces. The shopkeeper, now known as Larrim, was about to say something before the well dressed man behind the Mandalorian put a hand up, “please, I insist. Charge my tab too while you’re at it.”

The shopkeeper, now eager to serve him, disappeared behind a door to a backroom to gather the requested supplies. The Mandalorian finally turned to face the unidentified gentleman, who was only smiling at him, “I can cover the cost of my things,” the monotone voice said, but the other man simply shook his head.

“Consider it a gift from me to you, a guest, one that I just had to greet myself,” he extended his hand towards the armoured hunter, “my name is prime minister Jonathan Tokani, and when I heard of your presence I knew I had to meet you, you’re just the person I was looking for.”

The Mandalorian glanced down at his outstretched hand, but ignored it and peered at the man behind his visor, “What exactly do you mean?”

The man exhaled sharply, lacing his fingers together to rest against him, “It’s my daughter.. She was taken by those unruly gang members in the Outer City and held hostage. My men they.. They have been unsuccessful in retrieving her.”

The Mandalorian shrugged, turning back to the counter, “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Please,” the man stepped forward, causing the Mandalorian to tense, “I can pay you handsomely.”

The Mandalorian pondered for a few moments. It’s true that he could use the money, not that he was desperate for it, but funding was getting low and the amount of money a government official could provide him would be sufficient enough to tide them over for at least a couple of weeks, depending on how much they kept jumping from planet to planet. Under his helmet he closed his eyes for a moment, finally giving in and turning around, “Fine. I’ll do it. Triple my rate per day.”

The prime minister grinned and clapped his hands together, “Mandalorian you are a true hero,” he started, as the man he was speaking to started to walk past him to the exit, “I’ll get your things delivered to your ship-”

“Do not enter my ship,” the Mandalorian paused to command, looking over his shoulder and looking at the prime minister, who threw his hands up.

“Quite fine, we’ll have it left in your bay then.”

Exiting the shop, the Mandalorian walked back towards the direction he had came, back towards the docking bay he had landed on, and the doors automatically opened for him once more. The official looked up momentarily and then back down at his pad, engaged in whatever he was working on. The Mandalorian walked in his direction, and the clanking of his boots was enough to make the male look up at him.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

“Not exactly,” his voice boomed, and he reached into a pocket on his belt, pulling out a comm device, “if anyone tries to enter my ship, I need to know immediately.”

Hesitating, the other man took the device in his fingers and shrugged, “Yeah sure.. nothing else to do ‘round here anyway.”

The Mandalorian stared at him for just a moment, he knew this man wouldn’t dare enter himself, and glancing over at the ship he pondered if he should really follow through with this mission. It should be easy enough, since the destruction of the city so long ago, the terrain of the Outer City should be easy to navigate, especially if these gang members were to use vehicles. Easy tracking, which means it shouldn’t take him that long to accomplish, and they would be in dire need of resources and credits soon enough. He glanced down in his helmet for a moment before finally walking towards the large bulk doors, he was sure he could complete this in a timely manner before The Child woke.

-

The sun was beginning to set over the trees, casting a vibrant orange glow, highlighted by pink and purple. The wind was quiet despite the looming dark clouds in the distance, the sound of rustling the leaves above and the warmth from a nearby fire was just enough to keep you from thinking about your chilled fingers. This was the perfect time to ponder “just how did we get here?”

The answer was simple: greed and (in your case) human trafficking.

Since the fall of the Empire, and the New Republic trying to get its footing on a strong democracy, corruption seemed to be at an all time high. Your mistake? Questioning the Prime Minister’s involvement. But, this just proves that guilty men will do anything to cover their tracks.

So here you were, locked in the dingiest of cages, pacing back and forth in the small metal rectangle bars and sighed softly. Your eyes followed straight ahead as you’d spin around to pace the other direction. Finally, one of the gang members growled, irritation audible in the atmosphere.

“Why is she only pacing?”

“Because,” you interjected, gripping two of the bars, “all I can do is be locked in here! What, you don’t believe in feeding your guests?”

You saw a flicker out of the corner of your eye, and one of the men surrounding the fire came over to your cage, and began to unlock it. You brushed off the reflection you saw as the small door opened and the gang members large hand grabbed your arm and pulled you down.

“Hey- woah,” you caught yourself from falling and he began to pull you in the direction of the fire, “I’m a human, not a Bantha, you don’t have to pull me around.”

His meaty hands shoved you down towards the ground, and you huffed as your knees crumbled below you, the feeling of mud settling around your body. Rain had fallen earlier in the day, and the looming clouds that lingered around the sunset seemed to show more was on the way.

You watched the five men who had dragged you out here eating some kind of meat, but all they handed you was a lumpy ball of rice. You didn’t hesitate from accepting this since you hadn’t eaten at all since yesterday morning, and you nibbled on it sparingly as the men spoke amongst themselves.

How much do you think we can get?

Daughter to a minister? Pfft.. a lot.

Who should we even start with? Are the Hutts still around?

You blinked, staring at the brown food held in your fingers. The rice like texture was gummy to the touch but still slightly warm, and you shoved in your mouth hastily, you were starving and this was as good as it seems it was going to get.

You chewed the soft food in your mouth when another flash of metal appeared out the corner of your eye, and it seemed as though one of your capturer saw it as well, as he let out a humph sound.

“What is it?” Ones whose back was facing the trees asked.

“I thought I saw something’s all,” he mumbled, standing to his feet, his hand resting on the holt of his gun.

“Well then go check it out,” the other one replied, and with another grumble, the man was off into the bushes and disappeared from your line of sight. Not many moments passed before there was a blaster sound that echoed through the air. Your head shot up along with the other remaining members of the gang. They stood quickly readying their weapons and one voiced out loud for one to grab hold of you.

As one gang member hoisted you up to your feet, arm crushing you against him, in the distance another flash of metal appeared, steadying for a moment as the armored man shot a fire at one of your keepers-

And he completely vanished.

An Amban rifle? You had only heard tales of these weapons from a time long ago.

The other men were bewildered, some charging the spot that they had last seen the armored man and some a couple more holding their position near you. You were panting as the man holding you jerked you backwards, his free arm outstretched with his blaster pointed to defend himself. Your eyes darted around looking for another glance at the armored man, and seemingly out of the darkness his appeared again, grabbing a hold of one of the men close to him and disarming of him of his blaster and shooting him with it before letting it fall to the ground, and swiftly switching to his rifle, taking out not one, but two more men close to him.

The three men still surrounding you began to panic, their shots getting sloppier and less accurate, and the man could easily dodge each shot it seemed, nearing closer to his targets. Your eyes shifted upwards as the man holding you captive has loosened his grip on you, eyes trained on the attacking metal man.

No.

The man who was holding you had let you go, tossing you to ground and you watched as he stepped closer to the metal man as he was still fending off one last man, not seeing your holder coming behind him. Just as he had finished off the one he was fighting, he turned around face to face with a blaster.

There was a shot fired, it echoed in the still air.

The Mandalorian didn’t even blink in his visor as the shot was fired, but the face in front of him had grown pale, a stain of green blood seeped from his torso, and the body had fallen just before his feet. Behind him was who he had come in search of: the Prime Ministers daughter, clothes dirty with mud, kneeled on the ground, a large blaster in her hands, and still sizzling from the shot fired.

Hands steady, one finger relaxing from the trigger, you just stared at the man who you had killed. You had never done it before, but the faint words of what your father told you when you were younger rang in your ears for a brief moment: people will try and hurt, or even kill you.. you have to protect yourself.

You finally looked upwards at the man who had saved you, lowering the blaster finally to the ground, finally realizing who was in front of you.

“I had it handled,” the audibly strong voice said to you, walking over the body and to you, he offered his hand for you, “here.”

You took his larger hand, and it clasped around yours, helping you up from the soft ground, but your eyes never left his helmet.

“I’m sure you did, but I was beginning to think you didn’t see him” you finally said, not earning much of a response from him, “either way.. Could you get me out of these? The key is there,” you motioned back towards the cage you were in, the boxes that were beside it were open, and the key device somewhere amongst them.

The Mandalorian nodded, walking over to the open boxes, and rifling through one before coming upon the device, you had followed over beside him, and he turned to face you, offering his hand once again for you to rest the cuff link in his palm. You obliged, setting both your hands into his palm, and with his other hand he placed the other device beside your holdings, and it rang out a beep, opening the cuffs and freeing your hands.

You instinctively rubbed your wrists, and the Mandalorian tossed the remaining metal to the ground, “Thank you,” you mustered to him, and you earned a nod in response.

“Just doing my job,” he replied and looked up at the darkening sky, “we should get moving.”

He started to walk back the direction he came from, and you stalled for a moment contemplating grabbing the weapon left in the open case you stood by. You closed your eyes tight for a moment and let out a sigh, grabbing the smaller blaster and hurrying to catch up to the Mandalorian.

You had walked in silence for what felt like forever after that. The sun had completely settled past the trees, and you were surrounded by the last hues of sunlight painted in purple. The Mandalorian kept his stride up, you trailing behind him, holding the gun in your hand. The silence was unsettling for you, so you decided to break the silence.

“Where are you from?” You asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied shortly, and you huffed.

“Well,” you started, “there aren’t exactly a lot of Mandalorians here, a lot of people don’t exactly like your presence because of the war,” you said, “so are you passing through?”

“Yes.” He answered again shortly.

“But you said that.. I was a job?” You asked, looking at the back of his helmet strangely.

“Your father hired me.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your eyes wide, but he continued on not noticing you stopped, “My father?”

“Yes.”

You shook your head. No, no, no, no! This could not be true. Your skin grew bumpy as the air hit it, chills going along your body. You shook your head, taking a step back.

“I-I can’t continue with you.”

This finally caused the Mandalorian to stop and turn to look at you, “What?”

You stood your ground, pressing your feet into the soil firmly, “I’m not going further with you.”

He shook his head, “Yes. You are.”

You mimicked him, “No. I’m not,” you said which you could see made him irritated, and he glanced over his shoulder in the direction you were traveling towards.

“Your father is paying me to return you safely to him, to your people, your family-“

You scoffed, and under his helmet he raised a brow, “That’s impossible.”

“What do you mean impossible? I spoke with him just today-“

“My father is dead,” you cut him off, which finally got him to look you directly in the face, and he noticed your pale expression, fist tightened beside you, eyes darker than before, “he died when I was younger. Sometime after the Clone Wars ended.”

You shook your head, “The Prime Minister is my,” you sighed, “uncle.. I wasn’t taken or whatever he said to you. He sold me to them. He had been funneling money from different sections of the government for himself, and he didn’t like me addressing him of these acts. He is as corrupt as they come.”

The Mandalorian let your words sink in, pondering how he would continue with his job now. Why were they always filled with complications? He should have followed his gut on just leaving with The Child after all, he shuffled his feet and motioned towards you.

“And if you don’t continue with me, then what? You’re just going to stay out here?”

You shrugged, “There’s no hope for me, Mandalorian. If you don’t return with me and leave this planet, then he is just going to send someone else out here to fetch me, and probably send me off world to become a slave somewhere else,” you gave a lopsided, sad smile, “my life here is over.”

The tall, sturdy man sighed, glancing at the ground for a moment as if to process as the thoughts ran wildly through your mind. How low you had fallen since being sent to this dingy, outer world, pile of rock-

“Come with me then,” the voice spoke. You raised a brow at him and he nodded behind him, “return with me, and I’ll say I could not locate you. We’ll sneak you onto my ship, and leave. And I’ll take you to another planet - start new there.”

You pondered it for a moment. Maybe you could return to your home planet after all, resume your life there that you had to flee so long ago. The Mandalorian watched you as your eyes seemed to search his body for some kind of response. Maybe if you should trust him, which he didn’t see why not seeing as he saved your life, then you had his back in return.

“Okay,” you finally answered and he nodded at you, thunder sounded above you both, and you sighed, “but we should probably seek shelter. The storms on this planet can be unpredictable.”

You had started in a direction cross from where you were originally headed, and the Mandalorian followed behind, keeping a comfortable distance. You glanced over your shoulder at the much taller man behind you, “We had passed this cave when those men were looking for a place to set up camp,” you had started to tell him, and he listened, but only partly. The trees parted to a small opening before. The edge of a small ridge of rocks, an opening of which looked big enough to hold the smallest of camps. Perfect for two people.

“I’m going to scout the area,” his voice rang and you nodded. He didn’t give you time to reply, so instead you searched for a way to make a fire.

That’s how you found yourself sitting beside a fire with a Mandalorian, still dressed in his heavy armor. You had insisted on taking the night watch, the events of the past couple days still fresh in your mind, and he had obliged, settling against a stiff rock, arms crossed, and head tilted to his shoulder. You, on the other hand, had watched the heavy rainfall and stared into the darkness, the only light was the fire you were sat beside. It was quiet besides the occasional flicker of embers, trees steady, ground moist but no sound from the ground.

You exhaled, some tension leaving your body, and your mind began to wonder. What would it be like returning home? Would you even be welcome without your father? With the Empire fallen, you didn’t see why not, but nevertheless things change. People change. Did you change? Maybe, today had been a number of firsts for you, but that didn’t mean you had changed on the inside-

Crack.

You froze, drawing a blank on any of the thoughts that were crossing your mind. You looked towards the Mandalorian to your side past the fire, and noticed he hadn’t budged at all. You stood steadily, gripping the blaster in your arm.

You should wake him.

But you didn’t.

You had entered the darkness by yourself, carefully stepping over the branches you could at least see as you adjusted to the darkness. All you could make out was silhouettes of the trees, and as you made your way deeper into the trees, you paused, seeing a dark moving figure.

You crouched, your eyes training on them in the distance. There were just a couple, talking to themselves in a dialect you couldn’t make out, but they continued on without noticing your presence. You relaxed the grip you had on your blaster, and before you had a chance to even stand-

Everything went dark.

[astraeagreengrass]

The Queen's Husband [3/?]

When her reign is threatened, the Queen of Ergona must find a husband to secure her throne.

Word Count: 2.096

Warnings: None! English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

A/N: No one is free from apprehension - not even queens! Luckily for our queen, she has found herself a pretty nice fiancé! This chapter is a little short and not exactly what I wanted it to be, but I decided to post it right away instead of keeping on battling my writer's block. I hope you like it! And, as always, thank you to the lovely, kind, generous people that take the time to read, comment and reblog. I appreciate you ♡

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Marble archways and red-orange torches were the only witnesses to yours and Steve’s late night conversations.

Your hand was in his as you ambled. It was fairly inappropriate, even if you were engaged, but you couldn’t help it in the darkness of the hallway. The touch of Steve’s skin was thrilling and your palm was sweating from the adrenaline coursing through your veins. The feeling was brand new and fantastic.

This tradition was something you both committed to once Steve moved to the palace, three weeks after your betrothal: he’d escort you to your chambers at dusk, the only moment you could talk in private, even if it sometimes meant you had to whisper. Every other hour of the day you were surrounded by your handmaids, advisors and political allies and you weren’t keen on them listening to your conversations with the Captain; not when the butterflies you first felt in the rose courtyard were still there, brewing a storm in your stomach whenever you gaze met his.

Growing up as the heir to the throne of the Ergona, you’d been extensively schooled since your earliest days. Politics, mathematics, geography, english and other languages, diplomacy… You excelled in many topics, having been taught by the most brilliant minds in the world. Love, however, had never been in your syllabus.

Queens weren’t taught the ways of love and, as such, it was never your priority. Knowing you’d most likely marry for duty, with a suitor chosen by others, you focused on becoming a good ruler - a fair and honorable sovereign, born to love Ergona rather than a spouse. 

Steve’s confession had terrified you - not because you didn’t believe him but because you did. You weren’t lying when you said you thought he was a good man and maybe that was why his love for you was so mystifying. Steve was handsome, loyal and kind-hearted. He could have any woman he wanted and yet he chose to love the one who built walls around her heart higher than those surrounding the Dragon Keep in Albeon. 

Wariness was a hard lesson to learn but a necessary one: trusting the wrong person could cost you your kingdom, your crown and your life. No one told you how hard it would be – the loneliness and the doubt – but a Queen’s life was full of sacrifices. Yet now, every night after you bid your goodbyes to the Captain and laid to rest on soft feather pillows, your past decisions and insecurities kept you awake, taunting your mind with “what ifs” and lost possibilities. 

What if you’d smiled more? 

What you’d been less cold?

What if you’d been more talkative?

Maybe then you’d know what to do with the snake coiling around your lungs, crushing your breath while it screamed you were not good enough. Not for Steve and not for Ergona. 

After every sleepless night, you’d watch the sun rise. The golden glow would slowly but surely spread across the inky sky, making way for dawn. It made you think of Steve and the way the blonde strands of his hair reflected that same light: your fiancé, blessed by Helios himself.

Amidst the anxiety, his presence was soothing. It confused you how the cause of your worries could also be their healing balm. Your days, as busy and hectic as they were, now suddenly revolved around the prospect of these slow walks to your chambers, the dark shadows of the castle’s walls mere bystanders to the way Steve was carefully, day-by-day, breaching through the queen’s careful armor until he found the woman.

It was scary but exhilarating.

Your conversations were easygoing and light-hearted. He’d ask about your childhood, your life in Foghar, your favorite color and favorite foods. In turn you’d question him about growing up in West Ergona, his days in the military and his travels.

You learned Steve was a sickly child who dreamed of being a soldier. His best friend was named Bucky Barnes - “he’s a punk”. He loved visiting Asgard because it reminded him of his mother and was very grateful to Abraham Erskine, the doctor who healed him.

Steve never inquired about your political agenda or demanded to be part of small council meetings. Much to Lord Fury’s chagrin, while you sat in stuffy rooms negotiating tax administration, the Captain could likely be found training archery with Master Barton. 

He was tanned from his moments spent outside in the summer air. His already impressive muscles were bulging and his smiles were relaxed and frequent, as if joy itself had made a home in him. You’d never seen him so carefree.

Outside the fortress domains, Ergona thrived with the news of your nuptials. Apparently, there was nothing like a royal wedding to lift the nation’s spirits after a war and - unsurprisingly - the prospect of Steve becoming the new King was very exciting.

For the first time in your reign, you welcomed Western emissaries to the royal palace, including Steve’s father, the Duke of Arvenia, who was absolutely delighted with his son’s good fortune. A short, balding man who resembled Steve very little, the Duke arrived with an entourage of musicians, dancers and even his personal painter. His golden cape could rival a lion’s mane and his necklace was encrusted with the finest emeralds. A feathered beret completed his look, making him look every inch an exotic peacock. 

Despite the obvious luxury he surrounded himself with, the Duke wasted no time asking how profitable the engagement would be to his duchy. Steve was flabbergasted with his father’s audacity, his face turning a shade of red that could rival his stepmother’s rubies - a girl even younger than you were. In an attempt to soothe him, you placed your hand over your fiancé’s, delicately saying that if the Duke of Arvenia had any questions regarding the marriage, he should take them to Lady Natasha. 

She would sort him out.

You'd gripped Steve’s hand on instinct, your body’s automatic response to his discontent. It was organic, as if your own senses were attuned to his - perfectly synchronized.

When you felt him relax you let it go, even if the loss of his skin left an unpleasant tingling sensation. You weren’t expecting for him to grip you hand again a few hours later, under the dinner table, as Lord Pierce - an obnoxious marquess from West Ergona - made you uncomfortable by suggesting Steve’s virility would surely grant him many sons.

His answer to Pierce, in the same commanding tone he spoke to his soldiers with - made the older man wither like a flower in a snowstorm.

“I hope our first child is a girl, so that she may follow her mother’s footsteps and become a great Queen".

He then proceeded to toast to his words, his wishes dying in a smirk of wine-stained lips.

It was how you ended here, wooden soles clicking on the stone slabs of the corridor. After the second course you excused yourself from the dining hall. You thought Steve would chose to stay with his relatives - according to Natasha, he hadn’t seen his father in three or so years - but he rose from the table as you did, not even biding his farewells.

You missed the way Lord Stark pulled his squire from his belt, preventing poor Peter Parker from escorting you and Steve. No one else dared to follow you and, as soon as you left the room, Steve's hand reached for yours again - bolder this times, fingers entwining in a move so similar to the way his own soul was twisting and wrapping around yours. 

You walked in silence for the first time. No conversation to appease the tension or divert your mind from the heat shared between your palm and his?

As usual, once they saw you approaching, the two guards that kept watch outside your chamber’s door exited to grant you privacy. They’d return once Steve left.

The Captain cleared his throat and spoke:

“In Asgard, where my mother was from, it is customary for a man to give a ring to the woman he is betrothed to. It is a promise of his commitment to her until the wedding day.” 

From his jacket pocket Steve removed a navy blue velvet pouch. Long fingers loosened the cord that held the pouch closed - dexterous with a sword but delicate to the touch - and a ring fell on his palm.

The oval stone was the same shade as the velvet cloth - midnight indigo, dark as the depths of the ocean that crashed in Ergona’s shore. Dozens of tiny diamonds surrounded it, twinkling lazily in the warm firelight glow. Even more diamonds made up the ring band - and opulent jewel, made of the finest gems dig up from western mines and handcrafted by the greatest jewelers at the Duke of Arvenia’s disposal.

Too opulent for you and Steve knew that.

“I know it’s too much” he said apologetically. “My father is known for his grand gestures. But I miss my mother dearly. This ring is the only heirloom of hers I have left. I know it’s not your style, but it I would if you accepted it as a token of my affections.”

There he was, breaking down your walls again. Every carefully placed defense crumbled in the presence of his words, scattering to ashes when you couldn’t find dishonesty in them. You found yourself divided: one Y/N was rational, overzealous and logical, screaming at the top of her lungs to halt the other - wide-eyed and ingenue, desperate to break-free and be loved. It was the second one who said:

“Doesn’t Asgardian tradition say that the groom should place the ring on the bride’s finger?”

Steve beamed - a beautiful stretch of lips and cheeks and eye crinkles. He smiled with his whole face, making you wish for broad daylight so that you could better commit to the loveliness of it.

He slid the ring on the fourth finger of your left hand. The jewel was even heavier than it looked, engulfing your digit in blue lavishness. Delicately, Steve traced a line from the base of your finger towards your wrist.

“This is the vena amoris. It runs from your left ring finger straight to your heart. I hope you can see this ring and remember that my own heart belongs to you.”

He continued.

“And, if you allow me, I will cherish your heart as you have cherished mine.”

“How could I have cherished you heart if I didn’t know of your… feelings?” you replied. 

 He laughed - a short, breath-like laugh that tickled your nose.

“You did so by being you. That is enough for me.”

“I don’t know how to do this” you whispered, mentioning to the space between you, yet meaning it as more than the inches separating you. 

“Neither do I” he took your other hand in his - limbs and worries and dreams laced together in the  dark. “But I’m willing to try if you are.”

Wordlessly, you nodded, cracking a small smile as you swallowed your tears. You didn’t cry easily,  but you found yourself getting more and more emotional the longer you shared Steve’s presence.

With his thumb he caressed the outside of your eye, temple, nose, then slid it downwards and traced your lips. Gently, as if touching a cloud, he took you chin in his grip.

When Steve's lips touched yours, the butterflies in your stomach broke free from their prison,  spreading their crazy fluttering to your heart, your skin, your mouth. It was quick - the briefest of pecks - but it still left you breathless and wide-eyed.

“I'm sorry” he muttered, mistaking your awe for consternation. “That was too bold. Your Grace, …”

Raising your hand, you interrupted him.

“Don’t apologize, I beg of you. I’m just… overwhelmed. I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Now it was his turn to be surprised.

“Our acquaintanceship is changing me. Being in your company is bringing to life so many things I never wondered about or deemed important. In so many aspects I feel like a new person. And it's disconcerting but rewarding. You make me feel happy.”

“And I don’t know what this means or where this will take us but I hope you’re not afraid of going there with me. Because I’d hate to be alone again.”

“Your Grace…” Steve started but you interrupted him again.

“And I order you to stop calling me Your Grace. At least when we're alone”

Then, in a move that astonished both Steve and yourself, you rose to your tiptoes and kissed him again.

[kirrtash]

The kikyo au my mind spat out in a moment of weakness

This is a story about Kikyo, and about what could have been.

Maybe Kikyo died when she did. Maybe she died after, during the final battle, maybe she had to fight until the end, or maybe she died earlier, getting to rest and avoiding all the mistakes she was going to do. But still, at some point she wandered the earth as little more than a corpse, and when Kagome passed the well for the last time after the final battle, the well demanded that she was whole, in body and soul, not leaving behind even a little piece of herself.

Of course, the well was strange, it had its on way of working, with or without the shards, only letting Kagome and Inuyasha go, making up its own rules all the time. And it didn’t like Kikyo’s body of clay and ashes, the well, but instead of killing her again, to give back her soul to Kagome, it changed the rules again.

Is mama Higurashi that finds them, at the bottom of the well, Kagome crying, frantically trying to go back while Kikyo sits, still stunned at coming back to life, again, her body of flesh warm and unfamiliar.

Kagome is stuck in the future. She doesn’t speak to her, happily using Kikyo as a dummy to release at least a little bit of her fury. Kikyo doesn’t mind. She wouldn’t know what to say to her anyway, after all they have been through, she already said goodbye to her for the last time. Mama Higurashi and the rest of her family are friendly enough even if they don’t understand who she is, at first.

Kikyo watches them, rapidly realizing how much Inuyasha is part of this family and how much they miss him when they figure out that the well is not working. And also, what they think his relationship with Kagome is. It gives her a new sensation she doesn’t know what to think of. Surely enough the thought that for this people the history between her and Inuyasha doesn’t exist is strange, but not in a completely bad way. Kagome doesn’t mention her connection to him either, and she is relieved. Kagome doesn’t speak much anymore, she realizes, not only to her, but also to her family.

It’s not simple at first. This world is strange and foreign, the people bad-mannered and disrespectful, and she can't understand why she needs a piece of paper to tell who she is. But they manage, in some way, to create a life for her, tiptoeing around Kagome’s rage and desperation, higher and higher every day the well continues to refuse her passage. They (Grandpa and Sota) clean her the unused storage room at the first floor, on the third day, while mama Higurashi soothes a crying Kagome. They find her some clothes, other than her Miko outfit, and when Kagome sees her in her own dress she smiles, for a second, the first smile since they arrived. Then she starts to cry again. Kikyo doesn’t ask why.

At first, she likes mama’s dresses the best, looking for comfort and coverage, but soon enough she starts to like Kagome’s too. When they offer her a job at the temple as a Miko (and even that is different in this time, but she picks up quickly at least) and she has her own money to buy things she starts experimenting.

She walks in the city, trying to not draw attention to herself while she learns the ways of this place, drinking in all that she doesn’t know, tasting every foreign food, going to the cinema (with Sota, the first time, to see an anime, but after that alone) and the museums. She catches the train one day, alone even if she has never taken it before, and almost manages to get lost. She buys stupid gadgets and books upon books, clothes and art supplies, objects for the kitchen for which she doesn’t know the purpose and in one memorable occasion a whole climbing station for Buyo. The cat doesn’t even look at it, doesn’t even move from his afternoon sleeping spot.

When she tries her way with make up, some months later, Kagome takes pity and teaches her how to do it. And also, how to use the oven, and how to open a bank account, how to use the computer, and how to understand what she reads in the internet, even if Kagome herself has never had many occasions to use it. Once she has started it doesn’t look like Kagome is going to stop. She teaches her the basis to understand science and mathematics too, while she studies for her high school tests and exams, and what has happened in the last 500 years and even before, which rights women obtained, which ones are in place for all the people and granted by the states. What states are.

Kikyo likes geography. The idea that so many places, so different from each other could exist never even crossed her mind. It makes her dizzy to think of all the different people that live around the world. A small part of her reminds her how simpler it is for human life to thrive without demons. The world is infinite and open in front of her, she can explore it at her heart’s content, chatting with Grandpa over the old traditions and new ones, listening to Sota’s excited explanations over the new technologies, relaxing and reflecting with mama Higurashi, when the new information is too much.

She watches Kagome, as the girl withers away with her own grief, never going too far away from the shadow of the well house. 

Her friends come to visit her sometimes after school. The Higurashi family presented her as a cousin, the resemblance keeping the lie credible, but after that first encounter, she avoids the girls. They seem nice, but the way Kagome watched her when they were talking reminds her of their past. Kikyo can’t bear her angry stare anymore. She doesn’t want to ruin the tentative companionship they have built, in the evenings spent to teach her about the future, so she keeps to herself and avoids them at all costs. It’s easier to look for mama Higurashi in the kitchen and chat in front of a cup of tea anyway.

There is still so much to do and see in this world, without demons and jewels and priestess with strange powers and a body that is still her own despite her death, but not a corpse anymore. She is free.

She misses Inuyasha sometimes, when the future world is too weird and incomprehensible, she misses him as well as her village and Kaede, the rice fields and the sunset from the hill behind the sacred tree. She misses the simple life they could have had. A happy life, once they had been freed from their burdens by each other. She sees Kagome’s grief and her desolation, and she knows that she doesn’t miss him in the same way.

Kagome’s life has stopped. She doesn’t know much of the world still, but even to her is clear that Kagome is not planning for her future, is not going on, is not living. Kikyo understands now, how Kagome would have battled Naraku for her whole life, if it meant spending it with Inuyasha.

They are just back from her first true travel, she and Sota. She knows that the boy didn’t really need her, but mama Higurashi insisted and even if in the end it was Sota that did all the work, keeping the tickets and documents and making sure they got on the plane, she is glad she went. She cried when they left the earth, Sota watching her, trying to understand if he had to call for help or not, but she didn’t care. She just sat there, the earth disappearing behind the clouds as she promised herself that she was going to fly again.

They are just back from the airport and Kagome isn’t there anymore.

Sota receives the news as the man he isn’t, a child already familiar with loss, already acquainted over the years with the sad figure of his sister, the widow of the well. Kagome has not been more than a ghost of herself, ever since they arrived to the future.

She tiptoes around them, respecting their grief, not sure if she is allowed to stay. She still has Kagome’s documents, the ones they gave to her for the travel. Nobody would suspect anything, she and Kagome too similar to arise any doubt. She could run away, but she doesn’t want.

Mama Higurashi makes her tea that evening. She asks her to stay. It’s easy to say yes.

But this is a kinder world, a kinder story, and the well gives Kagome back to her family, at some point or another, gives her the permission to visit. Kikyo watches mama Higurashi cry in joy and Kagome reuniting her families, Grandpa fussing around and Sota tackling Inuyasha. Inuyasha, he looks older, content. He doesn’t move at the impact, he can’t, he brings something too precious to let his guard down, Kikyo sees it in his posture, in how he curls around the small body in his arms, barely visible, half hidden as it is in his fire rat vest. A minuscule ear, not different from the half demon’s ones pokes out. She doesn’t want to meet them.

She calls one of her friends, someone from the library, or the coffee shop she works in now, or the history club, someone who is free right now. She knows that Inuyasha has probably caught her scent and she doesn’t particularly care. She runs down the steps of the temple, in the direction of the bus stop, the wind in her hair, all her life in front of her.

-

I have never ever ever written anything in my life (my university work was brought to life with immense suffering, and also not in english) so, if anyone happens to read and enjoys this little au, I’m happy for you, otherwise, I am just going to keep this on my blog as a reminder that if I am sleepy at 8 p.m. I should just go to sleep. Period. (I finished writing this at 1 a.m., well done @me)

[glcsterdux]

TOM HARDY, 44, EDMUND PLANTAGENET. ❝ ⤚⟶ EUROPE, 1458. thanks is given by the DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, EDMUND PLANTAGENET, from ENGLAND. they are at best ENTERPRISING, and at their worst MACHIAVELLIAN. whilst abroad, their ambition is to SECURE FOREIGN FAVOR FOR THE FUTURE ASCENSION OF HIS NEPHEW, THE PRINCE OF WALES. HE seems to remind everyone of TOM HARDY & THE RASP OF A QUILL PEN WRITING ON PARCHMENT, THE COLD STONE OF A WELSH BORDER CASTLE, and THE HAUNTING TIMBRE OF A CATHEDRAL CHOIR. ❞ penned by WALTER; EST, HE/HIM, 26.

FULL NAME : Edmund Plantagenet TITLES :  Duke of Gloucester BIRTHPLACE :  Pembroke Castle, Pembrokeshire, Wales. AGE : 44 (b. Sep. 1413) LANGUAGES :  English; limited Welsh, French; currently studying Russian. DYNASTY / HOUSE :  Plantagenet

SPOUSE : [TBD], Duchess of Gloucester

ISSUE : [TBD]

SIBLINGS   ♛ Edward Plantagenet, King of England (brother) + Isabel, Queen of England (sister-in-law)

OTHER ♛ Arthur, Prince of England (nephew, deceased)  ♛ Henry, Prince of Wales (nephew) + Katherine, Princess of Wales (niece by law) + Mary, Princess of England and Wales (great-niece)    ♔ Beatrice, Dowager Empress of Burgundy (niece)    ♛ Thomas, Prince of England (nephew)    ♛ Richard, Earl of Richmond (nephew) + Elizabeth Beauchamp, Countess of Richmond (niece by law) + Edmund Howard-Fitzroy (great-nephew)    ♔ Anne, Lady of York (niece) ♔ Cecily, Princess of England (niece)

ZODIAC : Virgo ELEMENT : Earth

RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION : Roman Catholic

PERSONALITY TYPE : ESTJ; the executive — “representatives of tradition and order, utilizing their understanding of what is right, wrong and socially acceptable.”

VICES : opportunistic, shrewd, heavy-handed

VIRTUES : pragmatic, faithful, sober

FACECLAIM : Tom Hardy

HEIGHT : 5′10″

RECOGNIZABLE FEATURES : deepset eyes, gentle creases of age about the corners; greying of dark brown hair at the temples; angular jaw narrowing sharply at the chin.

FAMILY ♖ Duchess of Gloucester — as devout to the Catholic faith as her husband; a political marriage that evolved into a love-match.  ♜ Lords & Ladies of Gloucester — children of the Duke and Duchess, likely in their very late teens to early-to-mid twenties. 

PLATONIC ♗ Advisor — one who assists with managing the affairs of the duchy in the Duke’s absence, as well as a source of counsel when present in Gloucester; most likely a clergyman. ♘ Compatriots — trusted members of the Duke’s household, regardless of gender; compatriots of campaigns against Welsh rebels; fellow supporters of Henry’s claim to the throne. ♙ Saboteur — a handsomely paid spy employed to keep close watch upon the goings on of the Neville family. 

FAMILY

“He cost me much, but I wish he had lived to cost me more.” The words had once been spoken by Henry II upon the death of his eldest son, a cry of mourning that followed so many years of strife and familial turmoil. Such is the way in which Edmund thinks of his elder brother, his deep fraternal love for Edward so often at odds with what he sees as a series of disastrous personal choices that have turned the English monarchy on its very head. 

So many of his own traits contrast sharply with those of his brother — though being second-born, he supposes that it is his very nature to view his own reflection through the skewed mirror of Edward’s existence. Pragmatic even to a fault, Edmund has desperately attempted to advise the King in a more traditional, conservative manner, watching helplessly as time and again Edward has stumbled headlong into speculation and peril, much to the excitement of his loyal subjects. 

Yet no one could ever accuse Edmund of being cowed by his King; even as children, his quiet, almost dour demeanor could easily slip and give way to the fabled Plantagenet temper, voice raised in thunderous support of his own traditional ideals. He tends to his nephew with a softer, more manageable hand, feeling a unique kinship Henry ever since the passing of his mother. He’s watched the boy slowly be pushed to the wayside of his father’s affections to make room for the brood he sired with his mistress, a string of empathy joining forgotten nephew and overlooked uncle. 

His favor of Henry does not temper his fondness for his newest brood of nieces and nephews. No child wishes to be born a bastard — that misfortune was the sole fault of their parents. But familial warmth will not distract him from his greater purpose of maintaining peace in England and thwarting any future succession crisis that may come from his brother’s infidelity. The kinship he feels with Edward’s other children extends only as far as their refusal to rise above their station and place the stability of the kingdom in jeopardy.

FAITH

Of Edmund’s deepest convictions, his religious piety is perhaps his most cherished. His original intentions of becoming a priest and withdrawing to a quiet life of service to the Church were laid aside when it became apparent to him that his brother’s impulsive nature may bring about untold harm to both himself and their family. It is this same spiritual conviction that caused him to balk at how openly his brother had entertained a mistress while casting his lawful wife aside to anguish and indignity, a mistake that he hopes he can impress upon Henry never to make. As Duke of Gloucester, he has become a prolific patron of Gloucester Cathedral, commissioning numerous expansions of the church as well as much-needed renovations to the original structure. He plans to commission a new stained glass window in the Cathedral to commemorate the coronation of Prince Henry, when the day finally comes.

FIDELITY

He has developed a penchant for heavy-handed and at times brutal enforcement of the King’s laws; Gloucester’s border with Wales, ever the kingdom’s most troublesome territory, has caused to be beset by all manner of outlaws and dissidents, whose presence in his lands he refuses to abide. He will as well accompany the Prince of Wales on his tours of the kingdom’s Welsh lands and the imposing border fortresses built and defended by one of the many past Plantagenet warlords.

FORTUNE

Edmund’s lands and residence in Gloucester have greatly shaped his perspective of both foreign and domestic affairs. The duchy’s comfortable hold on the River Severn and its meandering path out to the Bristol Channel are, in his mind, criminally underused as a trading port in a world that is rapidly embracing a robust market of foreign commerce. It vexes him that his brother courts the distant Tsar of Russia yet ignores the affluent merchant families of the Italian peninsula, a course that he hopes can be reversed by Henry.

FACULTIES

With age has come compilations of the mind — plagued by persistent migraines that are often nauseating and debilitating, he is occasionally beset by dramatic shifts in mood that have only become even harder to restrain as the years have passed and more difficult yet to keep hidden from the rest of the court.