#the older sister carrying the burdens of the world alone

[khaoala]

❝But everyone sees me as a perfect girl. I'm the student president. A model student.❞

CIIZE RUTRICHA as ALPHA episode 9 of 23 POINT 5

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Burntout

I got upset and cried, and then I decided to try and write something that I am currently relating too, right now.

Lifes' full of up and downs, and sometimes its' okay to admit that you're not okay.

pairings: lotte wubben-moy x reader, alessia russo x reader

warnings: angst, meh.

The morning sun painted streaks of gold across the training grounds as you took part in another intense training session ahead of the upcoming game at the weekend.

You had joined the team just shy of a few months ago with dreams as big as the stadium in which they were due to play in, but beneath the facade of determination, you carried a weight that threatened to crush your spirit.

With each day that passed, you felt like the pressure mounted even more. The expectation were high, the scrutiny, the relentless pursuit of perfection - It all bore down on your shoulders like a somewhat invisible burden.

You found it easy to smile for the cameras, laugh along with your team mates jokes but inside, you felt like you were drowning.

There were a few of your team mates who were quick to note your struggles, 2 familiar faces from your past club, Lotte and Alessia, who had sensed the change in your demeanor. Of course they knew you all too well to be fooled by any of the facade you worse so carefully, they were able to see the cracks forming beneath the surface, the fragile threads that held you together.

Lacing up her boots, Lotte exchanged a knowing glance with Alessia, they both understood that something was amiss, something that needed to be addressed before it was too late.

During a break in the training session, Lotte and Alessia decide to approach you, concern etched in their expressions. "Hey, kid. Are you okay?" Lotte asked gently, her voice filled with geninue worry.

Your facade faltered, just for a moment, before you hastily plastered on a smile, "Of course, I'm fine," you replied, your voice a practiced melody of reassurance.

However, your team mates didn't seem entirely all that convinced. You should have known they would see through you and be able to recongise the pain hidden behind your smile.

You failed to keep your act up.

Lotte and Alessia were like 2 big sisters, you weren't that much younger than them, but you adopted the nickname as the kid, they were both fiercely protective of you and fought anyone who vowed to say anything bad about you.

"You don't have to pretend with us," Alessia stepped closer to you, her eyes searching your face, "We know that you're struggling. It's okay to admit it,"

Tears welled up in your eyes straight away as they threatened to spill over, the dam that you had built around your emotions was crumbling and you could no longer hold back to the flood any longer.

With a shaky breath, you finally let go of the facade that you had been wearing for so long.

"I'm not... I'm not okay," You whispered, your voice barely above a whimper. "I'm just finding it hard to cope right now, you know? I guess its' hard to try and fake a smile, act happy and that, when I don't feel like I'm truly happy."

"Oh kid," Lotte murmered, enveloping you in her comforting embrace, that Alessia joined in as well, both of them offering silent support as you let your emotions flow freely.

"Listen, Y/N/N, we know that you're finding things difficult here, but it will be okay and eventually, you will get used to it," Alessia said softly. "You've got so much potential, you're going to take the world by storm. We believe in you and your not alone in this anymore."

Lotte nodded in agreement with the blonde, "Less is right there, kid. We're going to be here with you every single step of the way, you can always talk to us about anything at all, remember?" she paused and waited for your response of a nod before she continued. "Your like a sister to the two of us and we hate to see you struggling at all, we love you so much, kid."

As the embrace with the two older girls lingered, the weight on your shoulders slowly began to lift and felt like it was replaced with a sense of relief that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"Thank you," You whispered, pulling back slightly both of them, meeting their concerned gazes with newfound determination. "I promise I'll talk to you both and be more open about how I feel from now on. I don't want to keep pretending like everything is okay when its' not."

Lotte smiled softly while her eyes were filled with understanding, "We're here for you, always," she reminded you, her voice unwavering in its' support.

"Together, we'll help you get through this," Alessia rested her hand reassuringly on your shoulder, "You're not alone," she repeated, her voice filled with conviction.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[disneyprincemuke]

i didn't tell you i was scared * fem!driver

perhaps carrying the burden of being the perfect eldest daughter after all these years have its disadvantages as well

pairings: fem!driver and her literal family

notes: don't even get me started on how fuckin long it took me to write this bro and also let's not talk about how bad this one is ok? thanks

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

being back home has always brought about a sense of peace she hasn’t been able to replicate anywhere else. it’s just a different serenity when she’s back under the blankets of the bed she’d grown up in, surrounded by everything that reminded her of being young and innocent.

oh, how she misses the times when it felt like the world was in her hands. how naïve of her to think that if she worked hard, she’d get everything she wanted.

every single word of rejection slowly dug the trenches she’s managed to find herself in lately.

she’s so deep in that she doesn’t think there’s a way out.

she lies on her back, childhood stuffed animals burying her in the blanket. she bores holes in the roof of her room where her glow-in-the-dark stars stare right back at her.

she can almost hear the ghost of her 13-year-old self whining as oscar and logan prop themselves up on her bed to paste them on her ceiling, making fun of her for being too short to do it herself.

it used to be so simple.

there’s soft knock on the door followed bt the creaking of its hinges as it’s pushed open. a head pops in. “can we go to the store?”

“what?” she turns her head towards the door and furrows her eyebrows. “can’t you just take my car and go alone?”

dalton frowns, “is it such a crime to spend time with my very beautiful older sister?”

she raises an eyebrow. “you want me to pay, don’t you?”

“don’t make me sound so feral,” the young boy huffs with a roll of his eyes. “i haven’t seen you in months… come on, let’s do something together?”

“i don’t really…” she sighs as she meets her younger brother’s stare and hopeful smile. “alright, mate, just let me change out of my pyjamas.”

that’s how she finds herself at a convenience store at 2 in the morning, hands in the pockets of one of logan’s old jackets that he left in her parent’s house, slowly sauntering through aisles with a blank stare.

she’s been staring at a box of cereal for a couple of minutes, debating with herself if she should let herself indulge. but lately, it just doesn’t feel like she deserves nice things.

when dalton finds her, he’s got a basket full of snacks and drinks. he stops at the end of the aisle with a puzzled stare and tilts his head. “didn’t see anything you want?”

she smiles, “not really. and i’m supposed to be watching my diet — too much ice cream, noah said.”

which is just another blatant lie. she hasn’t touched a drop of ice cream since matt had packed his bags and left her apartment. she hasn’t even really been eating.

dalton hums, “i guess… let yourself have a cheat day, though.”

she sighs out a soft laugh and slings an arm over dalton’s shoulders. “maybe tomorrow. come on, let’s pay up before mama finds out i let you convince me to drive you out to the store in the middle of the night.”

she rests her head at the foot of her bed, nose-to-nose with kidnapper as he sleeps peacefully on one of her pillows.

“wish my life was as simple as yours,” she mutters, running her finger along the cat’s nose. “wish i could sleep all day and be adored like you, kid.”

she glances at her phone, lying peacefully on her side table next to the bed. it’s been going off with constant text messages for the past 5 minutes, most from logan and oscar asking about her parents’ anniversary party, and some from matt.

she can’t get herself to pick up the phone and answering feels like such a daunting task. she can’t find the right words to type out and send out as an acceptable response.

“hey,” the door opens and her mother’s head pops in, “busy?”

she lifts her head and smiles slightly. “what do you need me to do?”

“can you pick up the decorations from town? it’s pre-ordered, so you just gotta pick it up. then maybe could you bring home some dinner?” her mother flashes her a sheepish grin, obviously hoping that she would say yes.

“can’t you get dalton to pick it up? i’ll let him use my car if that’s what you’re worried about,” she offers with a small, unnoticeable scowl on her face. her plan for the entire day was to simply lie in her bedroom and do absolutely nothing.

her day simply isn’t complete unless she’s wallowed in self pity.

“he’s barely permitted to drive a car with an adult in the passenger seat,” her mother sighs. “come on, please? i’ll make you your favourite breakfast tomorrow.”

“really? it has to be me?”

“you’ve locked yourself in your room the 2 days you’ve been back,” her mother sighs again with the shake of her head. “i thought you came home early to help around.”

“i came back early to spend my break here. that doesn’t mean anything about helping around,” she complains, yet she’s scrambling to get herself off her bed. she knows better than to get into this sort of argument with her mother — it’s simply not going to be worth it. “but if it has to be me…”

she gets up and drops kidnapper off in dalton’s room. she changes out of her day-old pyjamas and heads to town where her mother had asked her to go.

all the while cursing under her breath about having so much to do on her supposed break. she’d only driven herself back ahead of her parents’ anniversary party to give herself a break from the fast-paced nature of london.

that and the refusal to go back to her apartment when it no longer felt like home.

but she does all that her mother asks of her anyway because her mother says so.

“you need to eat more, my love.” she watches her mother stand from her position on the dinner table and pick up a bowl of noodles. “you look like you haven’t been eating at all.”

“mama,” she tries to protest with a sigh, shaking her head as she tries to push away the bowl from her plate. “i’m not very hungry.”

her mother is insistent. she shakes her head with a soft huff, scooping out a bunch of noodles and putting it on the plate in front of her. “you need to eat more than you’re eating.”

she lets out an irritated sigh and turns to her father, sat next to her mother, for some sort of words to help her. but he just shrugs at her with an apologetic smile.

“i just want you to look like yourself again,” her mother sighs, pinching her cheek tenderly with a small smile. “you’ve had a tough year.”

she scoffs, dropping her head to toy with the noodles on her plate. of course, she uses her shit of a season to justify being an overbearing figure in her life. she would have been more tolerant of it — as she’s been her entire life — but it’s just not a good time for this behaviour right now.

“fine, whatever.”

she glances down the hallway for anyone who would catch her before she opens the door. she’s greeted by 2 beds and an empty room, but an overwhelming familiarity of friendship. a friendship that she’s strayed so far from that it barely makes sense for her to be standing in this bedroom.

on top of the dresser is a framed picture of her, oscar and logan at a karting track in the earlier days of their karting days together. she stands between the boys, oscar and logan leaning into her with their lips pressed against either side of her cheeks.

on the beds, she can see the 3 of them cuddled up together when she was 14 seeking help from the older boys with her homework.

if she thinks hard enough, she sees her 15-year-old self on oscar’s bed with the blankets pulled up to her chin with logan and oscar squeezing in the other bed in the room when she’s having trouble sleeping by herself.

in the far corner of the room, she can see herself at 16 curled up on the floor after her first boyfriend had broken up with her. and oscar walks in with a small scowl but 3 pints of ice cream for them to share while they try to distract her of the pain.

the room’s been cleaned and polished by her mother, preparing for oscar and logan’s return for their anniversary party this weekend.

she makes a sharp turn for the cabinet at the side of the room, pushing through hangers of jackets and sweaters hanging neatly, untouched for god knows how long. she sighs when a familiar red jacket comes into view.

“i told mama this is mine,” she grumbles under her breath, pulling the jacket out of the cabinet. it’s a ferrari jacket that oscar had gotten from his parents when he was younger, but since he’d outgrown it, she’d claimed it for herself.

“oh, there you are.”

she turns around, with a heavy heart and teary eyes, and comes face-to-face with her father. “hey.”

“i’ve been looking all over for you,” he sighs heavily, stepping into the room with caution. “i just wanted to check in on you after what happened during dinner. you know mama meant well.”

she grins with a slight nod. “yeah, i know.”

“and we’re just concerned for you.” he wraps an arm around her and rests his chin on top of her head. “after the year you’re having… we’re all concerned for you.”

“concerned?” she repeats under her breath, looking up at her father. “regarding what? i’m doing fine.”

“personally, i’m just concerned because you’re my princess,” he mumbles, giving her a squeeze. “and you know… i’m your father? i know if something’s wrong, but it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it yet.”

she lets out a heavy sigh, relaxing in his arms. she wraps her arms around him and nuzzles her face into his chest, “thanks for not making me talk about it.”

she throws her head back, trying to pull back the hand that’s clasped in dalton’s hands, yanking her towards the garage of the house.

“come on,” dalton mutters, “we’ll have so much fun! just like before!”

“dalton, i told you i didn’t feel like leaving the house today,” she whines, trying another attempt at pulling her hand back from him. “i have some things to settle with my finances and schedule… i’ve put that off for a couple days and kristen and noah need those by tonight.”

“i’m sure it can’t take that long,” dalton whines with a heavy sigh, tugging on her arm. “just a quick movie in at the theatre then a cup of ice cream?”

“dalton, come on, i said i don’t have the time for this!” she shrieks, yanking her arm back and stomping a foot on the ground. “i’ll pay for you to go with a couple of friends, but i can’t go with you. i have adult matters to handle before the week is over.”

dalton blinks at her, shocked at her sudden outburst. “i just wanted to spend time with you before you go off and not come home for months… i’m sorry.”

she opens her mouth to add to her previous statement, but seeing her younger brother with a frown on his face instantly felt like a pierce through her heart. “i– dalton,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “i just have so much going on right now. maybe we can go a little later? i just need to finish a couple of things for my team.”

“it’s alright,” dalton sighs dejectedly, shaking his head. he walks past her to head for the stairs. “maybe next time when you’re not being a bitch anymore.”

“what the fuck,” she mutters with eyebrows furrowed, turning around with her gaze following his steps. “you did not just say that.”

“what?” dalton whirls around. “it’s true. you’ve been such a bitch since you came back. you lock yourself inside your room, you never wanna talk to me, you never wanna join me for snacks, it takes me extra effort just to convince you to come out of the house and do stuff with me… you changed, mate.”

she takes a deep breath. “of course, you don’t understand. you’re just a 16-year-old — you don’t fucking know anything.”

“i know my sister,” dalton scowls. he rolls his eyes and scoffs with a dry laugh. “sorry, i mean i used to know my eldest sister. nowadays, you just ignore my texts, never return my calls and never wanna hang out. you’re a flake, rocky.”

“and you’re just a fucking kid, why should i take anything you say seriously? what do you know about anything that’s outside of your stupid video games and secondary school?” she huffs. “and what do you know about what’s going on with me? that’s not fair.”

“i’m not talking to someone who’s not open to criticism.” he glances at her over his shoulder one more time before running up the stairs. “get a grip, mate.”

“hey, i heard you were back early.” the front door closing echoes in the house, ciara putting her backpack down next to the shoe rack.

the other girl sits on the couch, attention unwavering to the tv show she’s put on to watch. “yeah. hi.”

“i bought you dinner on my drive home from campus.” ciara skips over to the couch happily, leaning down on the back of the couch her older sister sits on. ciara turns her head to grin at her. “from the chinese restaurant. i got you some noodles and wanton.”

“oh, thank you.” she turns her head with a small grin and a soft eye, eyes stinging with every blink. “welcome home, ara.” she pulls ciara in for a short side hug and presses a kiss on her cheek. “how’s uni?”

“it was alright,” ciara shrugs. “join me for dinner?”

she hums, returning her attention to the tv screen. “maybe not; i’m still full from the lunch i had. but thank you for getting me dinner.”

“you’re home!” dalton appears at the top of the stairs with a big grin. “did you get me my fried rice?”

“of course!” ciara beams, beckoning him down towards the dining table. “help me set up the table. rocky’s still full from lunch. it’s just us, come on.”

dalton hops over to the kitchen with ciara, not sparing his eldest sister another stare. so she just turns off the tv and runs back to her bedroom.

“oh. i didn’t know it was such a sensitive topic,” her mother shrugs with a soft chuckle. “i was just curious because you said matt was going to be here for the party this weekend and suddenly he’s not.”

the girl shrugs, keeping her stare on the plate. “yeah, but i really don’t wanna talk about him right now.”

“come on, just concerned for your relationship.” she clenches her jaw, feeling a knot form in her throat as she lifts her eyes to meet her mother’s stare across the table. “did something happen?”

“no,” she lies with a small grin. “he’s just got some things to settle back in the states. he’s just busy.”

“or maybe he realised you were a bitch,” dalton mutters under his breath.

“dalton,” ciara warns through gritted teeth, hitting dalton on the shoulder very gently. “what the hell?”

“what? it’s true,” dalton mutters. “you know that more than i do.”

“that’s enough,” her father speaks up. “let’s just eat dinner, okay?”

“no, my love,” a whine comes from behind her, “you put it up wrongly.”

the girl on the top of the ladder looks over her shoulder and meets her mother’s judgemental stare and disappointed frown. “you literally told me to put it here, mama.”

“put it up higher, no– like– i’ll just do it.” her mother offers her a reassuring smile and beckons her to get down from her position.

“no, it’s so dangerous for you to be up here,” she mutters, attempting to readjust the wall decorations to her liking. “just tell me where to put it.”

“you’re,” her mother pauses, “not doing it right. just come down and let me do it.”

she huffs and drops her hands. “fine.”

she climbs down the ladder, folding her arms over her chest as she watches her mother replace her.

“see? isn’t that better.”

but she swears it’s exactly the way she’d put it up just a moment ago.

“is this what you’re going to do the entire time you’re here? just mope in your room with your cat?”

she lifts her head from her pillow and turns, resting her head again as she stares at her mother standing at the door. “is this really how you want to start the day?”

“it’s noon. the day started almost 3 hours ago.” her mother leans on the door frame of her bedroom. “you have to get up and do something. locking yourself up in here,” she pauses to look around the kiddish bedroom, “it won’t make you feel any better.”

“i just have a lot going on,” she mumbles, flipping herself to face the other side of the room. “i’ll come down in a while. i just need a couple minutes.”

“oh, my god, mama!” her voice echoes in the empty house, running down the steps with her mother following shortly behind her. “stop asking me about matt! i don’t want to talk about him right now!” she turns around at the bottom of the steps. “not with you; not with anyone!”

“i’m just trying to give him an answer, my love! he’s concerned for you. he said you haven't answered his messages all week,” her mother reprimands with her hands on her hips.

“that’s between matt and i and you have no say in this, sorry.” she raises her hands in the air to surrender before walking away. “it’s just none of your business.”

she’d just been relaxing in her room by herself when her mother came in trying to make conversation. she’d been receptive at first until she realised that she was trying to get her to talk about matt again.

which, she’s just not ready to open up about yet.

“it is if you’re acting this way! locking yourself in your room all day… fighting with dalton? don't even get me started on the way you can’t even clean up after yourself — you’re an adult now.”

“i’m an adult, yeah, so let me deal with my fucking problems however i see fit!” she laughs dryly and turns to face her mother again. “can i have some room to breathe? please? without everyone following closely behind me and staring at me like i’m pathetic?”

“we don’t think you’re pathetic!”

“i see the sorry in your eyes when you look at me! everyone seems to be looking at me that way lately!”

“my l–”

“just please leave me alone!”

so she gets in her car and drives away. she doesn’t know how long she drives for, tears in her eyes and chest heaving in sobs.

but she finds herself at the park nearby, one that she used to frequent with oscar and logan after school. she parks her car right by the roadside and forces herself onto the empty playground. she sits on the slide for hours until she feels slightly better.

she pushes the front door open with a heavy sigh. the sadness of pulling up in the driveway of her house worries her. it’s like the sadness seems to find a way to follow her everywhere.

everywhere she goes, it’s like there’s a dark cloud hanging above her head and she doesn’t know how to make it go away.

“where have you been?” ciara’s voice startles her, sending her a step back. “we’ve been worried sick for you after you left so abruptly before dinner! you weren’t even picking up your phone!”

“i just needed some time alone,” she says with a heavy sigh. she closes the door behind her and slips out of her shoes. “i was just at the playground i used to go to with logan and oscar. think i left my phone in my bedroom before i left and i went to grab dinner–”

“seriously? you’re not even sorry?” ciara screams, throwing her arms in the air. “we’ve been so worried sick for you since you walked out for no reason?���

she tilts her head. “no reason? mama has been grilling me about things i don’t want to talk about since i came back.”

“she’s concerned for you! we’re all concerned for you!”

“i didn’t ask for your concern! i’m asking you guys to leave me alone; give me some fucking room to breathe!”

“then why did you come all the way here just to lock yourself in your bedroom? if you want to be left alone, you should’ve just fucking stayed in london where you have an apartment where no one will fucking bother you!”

she huffs, hands on her hips. “fine. i’ll just go back. since it’s such a bother that i’m too sad to be here right now.” she stomps past her younger sister and up the stairs, heading right for her bedroom.

“don’t try and guilt trip me to feel sorry for you!” ciara chases after her. “it’s just not fair that you came all this way to be fighting with every single person in this household! just because blythe’s not here, doesn’t mean you’ll get away with this behaviour!”

“i’m not trying to guilt trip you,” she snarls, grabbing her bag from the ground and shoving her things, sprawled all over her room, into it. “but i’m sorry my feelings are such a burden to you guys. cause personally, i’m not having the best time.”

“if you’re not having the best time, don’t bring us down with you! it’s mama and papa’s anniversary! spend a little time not thinking of yourself for once!”

“i’ve spent my whole life not thinking of myself! you don’t know — you’re just a spoilt brat who got everything she wanted growing up! i actually had to work for the things i wanted.”

ciara scoffs, finally stepping into the room. “who gave you the right to act all high and mighty like you’re better than everyone? being the eldest kid doesn’t mean shit, genius.”

“well, what would you know about being the eldest kid? you never had to take care of anyone besides yourself; you never had to think of anyone but yourself.” she picks up kidnapper, sleeping on the foot of her bed and throws her bag over her shoulder. “just fuck off, ciara.”

“you’re not the only one with problems, you know,” ciara scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. “and what, you’re leaving? way to face your problems head-on.”

“i’m leaving because clearly i’m not wanted here,” the older girl sighs, pushing past the girl to her bedroom door. “so let me get out of your hair before my sadness becomes too contagious for your liking.”

“you’re leaving?” blythe says in shock, watching her older sister walk past her without another moment’s hesitation. “but i just got here. and isn’t the part tomorrow?”

“she’s throwing us the dramatics!” ciara announces with a loud laugh, running down the stairs to catch up with her older sister heading right for the front door. “she’s leaving because she can’t face the fact that she could be overreacting this one time!”

“overreacting?” blythe repeats, following both sisters down the stairs. “what are you guys even fighting about?”

“she left for hours with no contact!”

“i don’t even wanna stay long enough for you to paint me to be the villain,” the girl announces, pulling the front door open. “i’m leaving.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

[novaursa]

jaqen h’ghar x fem!stark!reader! there in harrenhal and she’s Aryas older sister. “if i do this thing, a girl must obey.” “a girl will obey.”

jaqen h’ghar is obsessed

A Game of Faces

- Summary: You meet your sister’s “friend” and he offers his help, for a price.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaqen H’ghar

- Note: The reader is Arya's older sister.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Next part: name

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The walls of Harrenhal loom dark and foreboding, each stone etched with the torments of those who have suffered within. You move silently through the damp corridors, eyes sharp and ears keen, every sense attuned to the danger that lurks in every corner of this cursed place. Arya is at your side, her small hand gripping yours, knuckles white with fear and anger. The men who captured you—those cruel soldiers in Lannister red—tore you from one nightmare and cast you into another.

Your sister’s “friend” Jaqen is never far from you. His presence is a mystery, his identity a mask more impenetrable than any helm. You’ve watched him from afar, seen the way he moves like a shadow slipping between torchlight. There is something unsettling in his eyes, a depth that swallows you whole when he looks your way.

One evening, you find yourself alone in the courtyard, watching the sun sink behind the jagged peaks of the mountains. Arya is with the other prisoners, her task for the day yet unfinished. You feel the weight of the castle pressing down on you, a suffocating presence that seeps into your bones.

“A girl looks troubled.”

The voice is smooth, with an accent that lilts like a melody. You turn, startled, to see Jaqen leaning against a stone column, his gaze fixed on you. His red-and-white hair glows in the dim light, a vivid slash against the drab surroundings.

“I am fine,” you lie, your voice steady but your heart hammering in your chest. There is something about him that makes you wary, though you cannot say why.

“A lie,” he says softly, as if amused. “A girl carries many burdens on her shoulders. Perhaps too many.”

You bristle at his words, but before you can respond, he steps closer, his movements fluid and graceful. There is a scent about him, something foreign and faintly sweet, like spices from lands you have never seen.

“You are Arya’s friend,” you say, more statement than question.

“A friend, yes.” He tilts his head, studying you with eyes that seem to pierce through all your defenses. “And perhaps a friend to you as well, if a girl wishes it.”

“I don’t need friends,” you reply sharply, your voice low. “I need to protect my sister and find a way out of this place.”

Jaqen’s smile is enigmatic, his eyes gleaming with something you can’t quite decipher. “A girl’s desire is a noble one. But sometimes, to protect, one must first obey.”

His words send a chill through you, and you take a step back, instinctively putting distance between you. He doesn’t follow, merely watches, his gaze never leaving your face.

“If I do this thing, a girl must obey,” he says quietly, his voice a whisper of silk and steel.

“What thing?” you ask, though you already sense the answer, a dark promise hanging in the air between you.

“A girl must say a name. And in return, a man will grant her wish. But a girl must obey.”

His words are simple, but the weight of them settles heavy in your chest. You know what he means—Arya has told you about his offer, the deaths he can deal with a whispered name. But you are not Arya, and you do not want to wield death like a blade in the dark.

“I don’t want anyone to die,” you say, your voice trembling despite your resolve. “I just want us to be free.”

Jaqen’s expression shifts, something softening in his gaze. He steps closer, and this time you do not move away. His hand, cool and gentle, reaches out to brush a lock of hair from your face.

“A girl’s wish is a pure one,” he murmurs. “But in this world, freedom comes at a price.”

You meet his eyes, feeling the pull of them like a tide. There is a power in this man, something dangerous and compelling, and it frightens you as much as it draws you in.

“What do you want from me?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Jaqen’s smile returns, a shadow of itself, and his hand drops back to his side. “A man wants nothing. But a girl must remember: if a man does this thing, a girl will obey.”

The words hang between you like a vow, a binding promise sealed by the intensity of his gaze. You nod, unable to look away, and he inclines his head, satisfied.

“A girl will obey,” he repeats, as if to himself, before turning and walking away, his steps as silent as a ghost.

You watch him go, your heart a wild drum in your chest. You do not understand him, cannot fathom the depths of his motives, but you know one thing with a certainty that burns in your veins: Jaqen H’ghar is no ordinary man, and the game he plays is one of life and death. And you, caught in the web of his interest, are now a piece on the board.

When Arya returns to your side, her face smudged with dirt but her eyes alight with fierce determination, you pull her close, holding her tighter than before. You will find a way out of Harrenhal, you vow. You will keep her safe.

But as you look back at the shadowy figure disappearing into the castle’s depths, you cannot shake the feeling that your fate is now entwined with his, in ways you cannot yet see.

[beyralxoxo]

{Amor Omnia Vincit-Lucius Verus Aurelius}

Chapter 1-Non desistas non exieris: Never give up, never surrender

SUMMARY: Tillotama is sent away, she feels helpless emotionless but she knows that she has to be strong and if it is not for her then for her family. Rome has been informed of the gift that is sent their way, and that seems to tug at Geta's and Caracalla's attention.

PAIRING: Lucius Verus Aurelius x South Indian OC

WORD COUNT: 4.3K

WARNINGS: none for now :}

With the decision made, Tillotama began the long journey toward Rome, a path heavy with the scent of farewell and the sharp sting of a fate beyond her control. The kings had offered their blessings, but their words were hollow, trembling with an unspoken sorrow, as if they, too, understood the weight of the sacrifice. It was not a send-off, but a quiet mourning, as though the earth itself wept for the daughter they had chosen to offer.

Her retinue was vast, a procession of people bound by duty, not choice. Over three hundred women trailed behind her, their silken garments fluttering in the wind, their movements graceful but weary. They were not in awe of the journey; they were bound by it. Each step forward was one less toward home and one closer to an uncertain fate. Nearly two houndred men walked in grim silence, their faces hard but not unkind, their presence a thin wall against the danger that lurked in the unknown ahead. They were her guards, yes, but more than that—they were her tether to the world she knew, even if it was slipping away with every mile.

At the heart of it all, as always, was her family. Her three sisters walked beside her, their faces drawn with an expression that was too familiar. Fear. Pride. Desperation. None of them spoke, but their glances met hers—quick, furtive, and filled with so much unspoken emotion that it was enough to make Tillotama's heart ache.

They were afraid of what she was about to face, of the distance that would grow between them. But they knew, just as she did, that there was no turning back. Her mother moved with an eerie calmness, her expression unreadable but taut with some quiet burden. Tillotama could feel the weight of her mother’s gaze on her, though she said nothing. It was the weight of years, of choices made in silence, of love and sacrifice wrapped in a language only mothers knew.

Her eyes, however, betrayed her. Beneath the quiet composure, there was a flicker of something—something too raw, too deep for words. A mother's grief, layered over with the knowledge that this was the only path left for her daughter to walk. Behind them, her grandmother walked with the grace of age, slow but deliberate. She was frail, but her presence held the kind of power that only the most seasoned souls possessed.

Her every step seemed to carry the weight of generations, the unspoken knowledge of lives lived through hardships and survival. Her eyes, sharp and clear, took in every detail, missing nothing, yet offering no comment. She had seen enough of life to know that words could be futile in the face of destiny.

And her aunt—ever the sentinel—moved with a quiet vigilance, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings like a hawk. Fierce and protective, she was the one who never spoke unless necessary, and even then, her words were measured, heavy with meaning. She had always been the first to act, the first to fight when there was danger.

But now, her movements were a little slower, her expression a little darker, as though the weight of the unknown was finally starting to press down on her. Then there was her cousin. He was a young man, only a few years older than Tillotama, but in the way he carried himself—his shoulders set straight, his gaze forward—he seemed older, as though he had long ago accepted a burden none of them could fully understand.

His presence beside her was comforting in a way, but it also made her feel more alone—he wasn’t here to offer comfort, but to remind her of the path they all had to walk.

As the procession continued, the weight of their sacrifice grew more palpable with every step. It was as though they were moving through a dream, where everything was familiar, yet nothing felt real. Each footfall took them farther from home and deeper into the shadow of Rome, a beast that hungered for more than just land.

It devoured hope, identity, and future. With every mile, the pull of the empire grew stronger, its presence a looming, invisible force. The journey halted abruptly, the quiet hum of the procession fading into a heavy stillness. Before them stood the ship. It was not the graceful vessel of adventure they had envisioned in tales—no, this was something far more ominous.

The ship loomed like a dark sentinel, its tall masts cutting through the fog like the spires of a cathedral, its black hull a stark contrast to the pale sky. It was a vessel of passage, yes, but also a prison, a cage of destiny that would carry them to a world they could not begin to understand. Tillotama stood at the front, her heart beating louder than the silence around her.

The enormity of what lay ahead pressed against her chest, choking her. This is it, she thought. The point of no return. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the handrail of the ship, feeling the cool wood beneath her fingertips. The world around her had grown quiet, too quiet, as though the earth itself was holding its breath.

The ship waited, its towering form stretching into the sky, a creature that had no soul, but beckoned all who crossed its threshold to step into its dark maw. Behind her, her mother stepped forward, her voice low but carrying the weight of a thousand unsaid things. “You must be brave, my daughter. For all of us.” Tillotama’s throat tightened, but she could not find the words to respond.

What was there to say? Brave? How could she be brave when she didn’t even understand the journey she was about to embark on? But she nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement. She was not sure if it was for her mother or for herself. Her cousin’s voice broke through the silence, firm and steady. “We will all survive this. And if fate has other plans... we will face them, together.” His words were like a quiet promise, one that spoke of strength but also of something more. It was as if he knew the path ahead would not only test her, but all of them.

The subtext of his words was clear—he, too, had his doubts, his fears. But he would not voice them, not now. Not yet. Tillotama looked at him, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. There was something there, something unspoken between them, a bond forged in shared experience, in the understanding that none of them would be the same after this journey.

Tillotama paused at the foot of the ship’s gangplank, the cool, salty breeze brushing against her face like an uninvited whisper. She let out a deep, measured breath, willing herself to calm the storm within. Her hands tightened around the folds of her garments as if grounding herself to the present.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, shutting out the towering ship, the murmurs of the crowd, and the weight of countless eyes on her back.

One step at a time, she told herself.

One breath, one step, and nothing more.

Once aboard the ship, Tillotama hesitated before turning back, her gaze latching onto the land she had known all her life. The shoreline stood shrouded in the golden haze of early morning, yet she could still see the familiar spires of the temple peeking through the mist.

They seemed smaller now, almost fragile against the immensity of the horizon. This was no simple farewell; it was a severing. Each breath she took felt heavier, her chest tight with the weight of memories. The laughter she had shared with her sisters in the marketplace, the gentle scolding of her grandmother as she fussed over every fold of her sari—all of it now felt distant, as though the ship itself had already pulled her beyond the reach of those moments.

Her fingers dug into the rough wooden railing, the splinters biting her palms. The pain was grounding, a reminder that this was real. She was not dreaming. Behind her, the deck bustled with activity—the shouts of sailors hoisting sails, the creak of wood straining against the current, and the faint murmur of her family clustered nearby. The sharp scent of pine tar mingled with the briny air, foreign and sharp, making her stomach twist.

“Tillo?” a small voice broke through her thoughts, trembling with uncertainty. She turned to see Bhumi standing there, clutching the edge of her sari like a lifeline. Her youngest sister’s wide, tear-glossed eyes locked onto hers.

In them, Tillotama saw everything she couldn’t say aloud—the fear, the confusion, the desperate hope that her elder sister might somehow have all the answers. “I’m scared,” Bhumi whispered, her voice barely audible over the ship’s groaning timbers. “Will they… will they let us come back someday?” Tillotama knelt to her sister’s level, smoothing the loose strands of hair from her tear-streaked face.

Her throat tightened. She couldn’t bear to tell Bhumi the truth, that even she didn’t know the answer. Instead, she forced a soft smile, the kind that had always soothed Bhumi’s worries before. “One day,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm churning inside her. “When the winds are kinder and the gods are more forgiving, we’ll come back.” Bhumi’s lip trembled, her small hands gripping Tillotama’s as if to anchor herself.

“Promise?” Tillotama hesitated, the weight of that word like a stone in her chest. She didn’t believe in promises anymore. Not after the court’s decision. Not after watching her father bow to Rome’s demand. But looking into Bhumi’s eyes, she knew she couldn’t deny her this small comfort. “I promise,” she said, pressing her forehead gently to Bhumi’s.

A throat cleared behind her. Tillotama rose to find her cousin standing nearby. He was older by only a few years but carried himself with a quiet gravity that made him seem far older.

His dark eyes scanned the deck, his expression unreadable. “She’s just a child,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You shouldn’t tell her what you can’t guarantee.” Tillotama bristled at his tone but kept her voice calm. “And would you have me tell her the truth? That we may never see home again? That we’re being sent to a world where we’ll be nothing but pawns?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he glanced at Bhumi, who had retreated slightly, her small frame trembling. His expression softened just enough to betray the protectiveness he worked so hard to hide. “I’m not here to argue with you, Tillo,” he said after a pause. “I just… I won’t let anything happen to her. To any of you.” Tillotama studied him for a moment, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

For all his bluntness, she knew his words were not empty. He had been her shadow since the journey began, always watching, always ready. “Thank you,” she said quietly. He gave a small nod, his gaze drifting back to the shore. “We’ll need to be ready for what comes next. This isn’t going to get easier.” As he walked away, Tillotama turned back to Bhumi, who had wrapped her arms around herself, staring out at the open water.

The ship gave a sudden lurch as the sailors loosened the moorings, the sound of rushing water echoing through the hull. “Tillo,” Bhumi said again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think the gods are angry with us? Is that why we’re leaving?”

Tillotama’s heart twisted.

How could she answer that? She crouched beside her sister, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think the gods are angry,” she said softly. “Sometimes… the winds take us places we don’t expect. But that doesn’t mean we’ve done something wrong. It just means we have to find our way.”

Bhumi didn’t reply, but she leaned into Tillotama’s side, seeking comfort in her warmth. For a long moment, Tillotama allowed herself to just sit there, holding her sister as the ship began to move. The shoreline grew smaller, the temple spires fading into the mist until they were nothing but distant memories.

She stared out at the horizon, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing down on her chest like an iron weight. She thought of the Romans, their cold eyes and insatiable hunger for power. She thought of the father who had sent her here, the kings who had justified their actions as necessary sacrifices.

She thought of Bhumi, and her cousin, and her family on the deck. And for the first time, she allowed herself to think of what she would need to become to survive.

Days blurred into nights, the horizon a seamless curve of water and sky. The ocean stretched endlessly, its vastness overwhelming, offering no hint of land or respite. The ship creaked under the weight of its journey, its rhythmic sway a monotonous lullaby that offered no comfort.

For Tillotama, it was a prison afloat, the walls of her cabin closing in like a cage. She sat on the silk-covered cushions, her body still but her mind restless. Her long black hair spilled around her, tangling with the fabric in a cascade of shadow against crimson. Her mismatched eyes stared at a crack in the wooden wall, a fissure she had fixated on for hours. It felt symbolic—of her, of her world—fractured, barely holding together, threatening to split open entirely.

Her thoughts spiraled as they often did. The court’s opulent halls loomed in her memory, her father’s voice ringing clear as he spoke her name. He had looked at her, and she had seen the regret in his eyes, the helplessness he had failed to hide. Yet still, he had said it. Tillotama. The name had echoed like a bell tolling for the dead. She had felt her sisters’ gazes burning into her, but she hadn’t faltered. She hadn’t let her voice crack or her hands tremble.

That moment, she had been steel. Now, in the solitude of her cabin, she was breaking. Her head tilted back, her eyes closing against the flickering light of the oil lamp. She exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself, when a hesitant knock at the door drew her from her thoughts. She didn’t answer, but the door creaked open regardless. Rambha stepped in first, her sari catching the dim light, a muted shimmer of gold and green. Her presence was steady, her movements deliberate, as though she were walking into a room where any misstep might shatter the fragile balance. Behind her came Ezhili, younger, smaller, with wide, uncertain eyes that darted around the room before settling on Tillotama.

“You’ve been in here all day,” Rambha said, her tone gentle but firm. She shut the door behind her and approached, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor. “The ship isn’t that large. People have noticed.” Tillotama didn’t move. Her gaze shifted only slightly, enough to glance at Rambha before returning to the crack in the wall.

“Let them notice,” she said, her voice flat. “What does it matter? They’ve already taken everything else.” Ezhili hesitated in the doorway before stepping inside. “Tillo,” she began softly, “we brought you some food. You haven’t eaten since morning.” She held up a small tray of bread and fruit, her hands trembling just enough to make the grapes wobble.

“I’m not hungry,” Tillotama replied, her tone sharper now, though it lacked true malice.

Rambha sighed, kneeling beside her older sister. “You can’t go on like this,” she said quietly. “You think shutting us out will make it easier, but it won’t. You’re not just carrying your burden, Tillo. You’re carrying ours too.”

Tillotama’s eyes flicked to Rambha, a spark of anger flashing through them. “Don’t talk to me about burdens,” she said. “You think I don’t know what I’m carrying? I was chosen to be the perfect offering, remember? The graceful daughter. The willing sacrifice. I don’t have the luxury of faltering, Rambha. I don’t get to cry or rage or… or run.”

“You think we don’t feel it too?” Rambha’s voice was quiet but steely, her gaze unwavering. “You think we don’t see what this is doing to you? What it’s doing to all of us? But walling yourself off won’t change anything. It won’t bring us home. It won’t make any of this fair.”

“Fair,” Tillotama repeated, the word dripping with bitterness. She sat up, her hair tumbling over her shoulders as she faced her sisters. “What part of this is fair, Rambha? That I’m being sent away as a symbol? That we’re here, in the middle of this godforsaken ocean, with no say in what happens next? Do you think I don’t know the stakes? That every move I make is under a watchful eyes, every breath I take judged as a reflection of our people? I know it. I feel it. And I hate it.”

Ezhili, who had been silent, stepped closer. Her voice was trembling but determined. “It’s not fair,” she said, her words halting but sincere. “But you’re not alone, Tillo. You’re never alone. You have us.”

Tillotama’s expression softened, but her voice remained cold. “You shouldn’t have to be here,” she said, her gaze shifting to Ezhili. “You should be at home, safe, not dragged into this because of me.”

Ezhili shook her head. “We’re here because we want to be. Because we’re your family. And if they think they can break you, they’re wrong. They’ll have to break all of us.”

The words hung in the air, their weight pressing against the walls of the small cabin. Tillotama stared at her youngest sister, her resolve wavering for the first time. Slowly, she reached out, pulling Ezhili and Rambha into a tight embrace. For a long moment, they stayed like that, their collective strength an anchor against the storm of their shared fate.

When they finally pulled apart, Rambha smoothed the folds of her sari and stood. “The sun will set soon,” she said. “You should come up. If they see you hiding, it will only give them more power.”

Tillotama nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “I’ll come,” she said quietly. “Just… give me a moment.”

Her sisters hesitated before stepping out, their footsteps fading into the hum of the ship. Alone again, Tillotama looked at the crack in the wall. It hadn’t grown wider, she realized. It was the same as it had been. Solid. Holding.

She stood slowly, smoothing her dress. Her reflection stared back at her from a small, polished bronze mirror on the wall. The face she saw was tired, yes, but not broken.

“If they want a perfect offering,” she murmured to herself, “they’ll get one. But it will be on my terms.”

With a final deep breath, she stepped toward the door. The sea stretched endlessly beyond it, but Tillotama wasn’t ready to drown just yet.

ROME

The throne room of the Roman Empire was a grand spectacle, a testament to the indulgence and wealth of the empire. Gold glinted in every corner, draped across statues, columns, and walls. The air was thick with the rich scent of wine, roasted meats, and spices, while the laughter and chatter of banquets echoed throughout the city. Yet in the heart of this lavish display of excess, sat the twin emperors, Caracalla and Geta. Their presence alone was enough to command the room, but their expressions betrayed an apathy, a deep-seated boredom that no amount of luxury seemed capable of dispelling.

Caracalla leaned back in his throne, wine spilling slightly over the rim of his goblet as he twirled it between his fingers. His gaze wandered, utterly uninterested in the entertainers dancing before him, their movements elegant but hollow in his eyes. He glanced over at Geta, who sat with a hand resting on his cheek, his eyes fixed on some distant thought.

"I can't remember the last time something actually amused me," Caracalla muttered, his voice tinged with impatience.

Geta let out a low sigh, his gaze shifting briefly from the ceiling to his younger brother. "You’re not the only one," he replied, his voice smooth, almost disinterested. "Is this really what they think will keep us entertained? As if we haven't seen it all before." He flicked a finger dismissively, the silk of his tunic rustling as he adjusted his position.

Caracalla gave a lazy chuckle, swirling his wine. "Perhaps they think we’re like children, easily pleased with any entertaiment" He leaned back, watching the performers with mild disinterest. "The nerve of them, really. As if that’s all we need to distract us."

"Indeed," Geta said, his tone laced with cynicism, "but here we are, surrounded by all this and still bored out of our minds." He gestured to the opulence around them— the flowing wine, the abundance of food, the women at their feet. "It’s absurd. Yet they keep bringing more."

Before Caracalla could respond, the heavy doors to the throne room creaked open. A messenger stepped inside, his posture stiff with formality, but there was an air of nervousness about him, the kind that came with delivering unexpected news. He bowed low before the emperors, awaiting their acknowledgment before speaking.

"Speak," Geta said, his voice cool but commanding, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the messenger’s anxious expression.

The messenger hesitated for a moment, then straightened, the words escaping his lips with an almost palpable sense of anticipation. "Your majesties, a gift from the East has been sent. A... a woman, an offering to your grandeur."

Caracalla’s eyes flickered to Geta, a spark of curiosity finally breaking through his boredom. Geta, however, remained composed, his expression unreadable.

"A woman?" Caracalla repeated, a hint of surprise in his voice. "For us?" He raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk pulling at his lips. "I wonder what kind of gift this is. A rare beauty, no doubt."

The messenger’s voice dropped lower, his words laced with awe. "Not just any beauty, Caesar. She is said to be extraordinary. So captivating, it is said even the gods would desire her presence in their courts. She is a dancer, a poet, and a woman of... remarkable grace and wisdom. A rare gift from India itself."

Geta leaned forward slightly, his posture more alert now. "Remarkable, you say? Tell us more about this *gift*," he said, his tone sharp with interest, though he kept his composure. "A woman whose beauty rivals that of the gods? You speak of her as if she’s... otherworldly."

The messenger swallowed, visibly nervous under their intense gaze. "She is... her name is Tillotama. And they say she possesses not only beauty but talents that could rival any in the world. A dancer whose movements could make the gods weep, a poet whose words are like music to the soul. She is said to be a true wonder."

Caracalla’s lips curled into a small, amused smile. "A poet, huh?" he mused, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his throne. "So, she dances, she writes... What does she do to keep the gods interested? What else is she hiding?"

Geta's eyes remained on the messenger, though his voice was now tinged with a more thoughtful edge. "It sounds like she is more than just a pretty face," he said quietly. "But we’ve been sent many ‘gifts’ from the East before, and none of them have impressed me." His gaze flicked to Caracalla. "What do you think, brother? Another woman to amuse us? Or is this one truly as special as they say?"

Caracalla shrugged, still leaning back in his throne, though the intrigue was growing in his eyes. "I’m not sure," he said slowly. "But I suppose we’ll see for ourselves, won’t we?" His voice had a slight edge of excitement now, though he tried to hide it behind his usual sarcasm. "If she’s as magnificent as they say, maybe she’ll actually be worth our time."

Geta didn’t answer immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the messenger’s words. There was something about the way they spoke of her, the reverence in their voices, that stirred something in him. He was a man of power, used to being in control, and yet the idea that this woman—this Tillotama—could be more than just another fleeting distraction piqued his interest.

"You’ll humor them, won’t you?" Caracalla teased, sensing the shift in his brother’s demeanor. "Don’t worry, Geta. We’ll see her. You can decide if she’s worth the trouble or not. But I think I’ll be curious to see this otherworldly beauty for myself."

Geta’s gaze shifted back to his younger brother, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "I’m not a fool, Caracalla. I know the game they’re playing. But I do think we should see her. If nothing else, it might give us some entertainment for a change."

The messenger, sensing the conversation had turned, bowed again and began to retreat from the room. "Tillotama will arrive within the week, Caesar. She is said to be a woman unlike any other. We... we await your judgment." As the messenger departed, Geta and Caracalla sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of the messenger’s words settling between them. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, there was something new, something intriguing, on the horizon.

Caracalla broke the silence with a lazy grin, his voice low but charged with anticipation. "I’m already tired of the banquets, Geta. Maybe this Tillotama will bring something worth our time."

[apollowhoo]

Yooo what’s upp???? Dude your writing is super gooddddd I was wondering if you could do an eldest daughter of Hades (born early 1900’s and got placed in Lotus Casino, and biologically older too)- and times with her little siblings bonding and growing close with her, like Bianca during the Titans Curse quest, Nico after the Labirynth after Bianca was gone and coming back to camp, and Hazel during the Argo II?(btw if you can can she be apart of the prophecy?)-

Sorry if it’s too long or specific, it’s fine if you want to edit it a little bit- Thank you so muchhh<3333

ELDEST DAUGHTER OF HADES!READER X BIANCA, NICO, HAZEL

omgg this is so interesting, love the idea!! Btw so sorry but i couldnt add the whole prophecy thing:((

The eldest daughter of Hades had lived through the chaos of the early 1900s, trying to survive a world at war, before her fate was stolen away. Trapped in the Lotus Casino, she was frozen in time as the decades slipped by. When she finally got out, the world she knew was gone and so were the people she’d loved. Alone in a strange new era, she found herself drawn to the one thing she still had: family.

Each sibling carrying their burdens, lost in their own way. As the eldest, she felt a deep responsibility to be the sister they needed, even when they didn’t realized it themselves.

Bianca’s Wish

Bianca was brave and strong-willed. When they met, the bond between them was immediate, unspoken yet undeniable. During the quest for Artemis, as they ventured into the unknown, Bianca was torn between her desire for independence and her need for family.

One night, while the others slept under the starry sky, Bianca found her sister sitting by the fire, eyes lost in distant memories. She approached quietly, her expression soft yet curious.

“Do you ever miss it?” Bianca asked, sitting down beside her. “The time you came from?”

The eldest daughter smiled, a bittersweet glint in her eyes. “Sometimes. It was a different world, Bianca. Simpler, but harder in many ways.” She paused, glancing at her little sister.

Bianca stared at the fire, her fingers playing with the zipper of her jacket. “I just… wish I could’ve grown up with you...maybe know you better.”

The eldest sister wrapped an arm around Bianca, pulling her close. “We’re here now, and that’s what matters. You, me, Nico—we’re family, no matter what.”

Bianca leaned into the embrace. For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to relax, to trust that someone would be there to catch her if she fell. In that quiet moment, they was nobody; it was just them, finding solace in each other’s company.

Nico's Darkness

Bianca’s death broke Nico. It didn't matter how much time had passed. He was angry, lost, and consumed by a darkness that seemed to grow with each passing second. He pushed everyone away, including his eldest sister, who tried talking it out of him, knowing that she couldn’t force him to heal—he had to find his way back on his own.

But she never stopped trying. One evening at Camp Half-Blood, she sat by the campfire, strumming a tune on her guitar, a melody from her past that had no place in this world. Nico lingered in the shadows, unsure, his expression serious.

“Are you gonna stay there all night, or do you want to join me?” she called, not looking up from her playing.

Nico hesitated before finally slowly coming over and sitting beside her. They didn’t talk about Bianca—Nico wasn’t ready for that. Instead, she began telling him her old memories, half-truths and half-myths about Hades and the strange little moments that made him seem like a normal person then a god.

“He tried to cook once,” she said, grinning slightly at the memory. “It was terrible, of course. Burnt everything. But I’ve never seen him laugh so hard at himself.”

Nico snorted almost in a mocking way. But at the same time, a genuine smile was breaking through the sadness. “Dad? Laughing? That’s hard to imagine.”

The eldest sister gets a little serious “He’s different than you think, Nico. He’s not just the Lord of the Underworld. He’s… complicated. Just like us.”

They sat there for hours, sharing stories that they never told anyone else, all filled with a warmth that Nico had been missing since Bianca’s death. In those moments, he found a piece of himself that he thought was gone forever and he believed that he finally found someone who understood.

Hazel’s Struggle

Hazel Levesque was a wonder to her sister. A girl out of time, so strong yet burdened with the weight of two lives. On the Argo II, the eldest daughter watched Hazel with a mixture of pride and protectiveness, seeing so much of herself in the younger girl.

One afternoon, while the others were busy, Hazel was on deck, practicing her swordsmanship as always. Sweat dripped down her brow, her face set in concentration. But there was a hesitation in her movements, a slight uncertainty, almost like something was bothering her.

“You’re thinking too much,” her sister called, stepping forward. Hazel glanced up, her eyes wide, but she didn’t move. The eldest took the sword from Hazel’s hand, her movements fluid and graceful as she demonstrated.

“Feel it,” she said, her voice encouraging. “You’ve got power, Hazel. You just need to trust it.”

Hazel watched carefully. When she tried again, her sister guiding her hands, it was different. She moved with much more confidence, and for the first time, she felt in control.

Afterward, they sat together, the ship rocking slightly beneath them. Hazel rested her head on her sister’s shoulder, sighing deeply. “I never thought I’d actually have this. Family. A sister.”

The eldest grins slightly, this was all too familiar to her. She wraps her arm around Hazel. “You’ve got us now. Forever. And I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

[missalosa]

OPERATION: LOVE!

CHAPTER 1 - OPERATION: THE START

pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

genere: enemies to lovers, college au, social media au, texting au, slight slow burn? (idk man), get ready for WHIPPED hyunjin

synopsis: in a world where society normalizes true love, y/n feels like an outsider. surrounded by friends who are constantly dating and sharing romantic moments, she struggles with feelings of inadequacy and the fear that she will never find love. her insecurities deepen as she navigates college, believing that love is reserved for those who fit a certain mold, but unexpectedly, she finds herself in a fake operation plan with the popular guy of her college. will she get a glimpse of what everyone sought for? or will she forever be alone?

status: ongoing

started: 10.10.24

tags: fluff, crack, spicy stuff happens mostly later but idk how to write smut so u get what u get hornball (jk | love u), the ex boyfriend is rude 😒

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What is love?

It’s a question that runs through my head whenever I walk past a couple, hand in hand as they giggle in between themselves, content in each other’s presence.

In this world, love is everywhere, almost a currency. Every glance, every word exchanged carries a weight, a promise of connection. People chase it like a moth to a flame, hoping to be enveloped in that warm glow. But beneath the surface, the desperation simmers.

What happens when love feels obligatory? I watch as people pair off, their laughter echoing, yet sometimes it feels like a performance. Are they truly in love, or just fulfilling a role?

Can love be a burden? When everyone wants it so badly, does it lose its magic?

Sometimes I wonder that about myself.

I know I made that whole thing sound like I was alone in crippling shame, stuck in a well, but I do have someone. A boy. My boy.

I should be lucky I’m even dating someone, especially someone like Taehyung. He’s everything I wanted, and the fact that I was able to pull him is something that amazes me. But, I can’t tell if it’s normal or usual for people in a relationship to overthink, I guess so, but is it normal to do it frequently?

It’s not like he doesn’t comfort me, he tells me he loves me every time, and it never fails to make me fall in love with him all over again, but I just feel so..weird, almost as if this is just a dream. I was someone who thought I would never find true love, I thought I was unlikable. But the moment I finally find someone, finally get a glimpse of what it truly feels like to put someone’s values over your own values, I can’t find myself to believe it.

It’s a bit pathetic really, I’m afraid of something that I was always so curious for the moment I got it. However, I think me and Taehyung are doing well in letting each other know that we’re on eachother’s side always.

Well, I know he is. Even if he’s not that kind to me, that’s just how he is. He wouldn’t wait for me to finish eating my food before walking off with his friends, he wouldn’t walk me home a lot, and when he would, it would be with my sister.

Step-sister anyways, but I like to think of her as my real one.

Miyeon is younger than me, my parents promised to take care of her as well, they used to work in a foster care and saw the brightest in Miyeon, and I’m really glad they did. Even if she’s younger than me, I really still look up to her as if she’s older, even if she’s the exact opposite of me.

Miyeon is the absolute total package. She’s popular, has blonde hair, pretty body, pretty face, the definition of..just pretty. She’s smart, has a lot of friends, you would think someone like her would be slightly intimidating at first glance but..I think she’s like my twin, even if we really aren’t. After all, we’re still the same age, even if she’s a couple months younger than me. There’s one thing though..her friendship with my boyfriend.

Personally, I don’t find myself getting jealous easily, I have a lot of trust in Taehyung, so I don’t think he’d ever do something as cruel as cheating on me, especially if it’s someone like my sister, but, I still have my fears.

And this is the part where I definitely feel like I’m overthinking, Miyeon would be the type to hurt my boyfriend if he were to ever even think about playing with my heart, no matter how close they are. So I really shouldn’t be worrying about anything..right? I mean..maybe it’s just—

“Ack!”

My whole body suddenly jolted as I felt myself bump into someone else, causing my tray to leave my grasp, making a clattering sound as my food was now on the floor, dirtying someone’s shoes.

I stammer, looking down at my tray, as well as the person’s shoes. “..Ah..I am..so sorry uh..I didn’t mean to-“

“Are you fucking blind? Watch where you’re going next time will you?”

I snap my head up to the person who made the snarky comment, finally getting a look on who was it that I bumped into. It was Hwang Hyunjin, of fucking course it had to be him.

Hyunjin was one of the most popular guys of our campus. Like Miyeon, he had looks, except there’s a reason you should be intimidated by him. I rarely see him go to school, like ever, and it’s noticeable when he does, because everyone looks at him with heart eyes, following him and trying to talk to him like lost puppies. The worst part of it all, was that he didn’t care, he didn’t care for all the girls practically tossing themselves at him. I never understood the hype around him, it’s not like he’s ugly.

He is very cute.

But his nonchalant personality completely overshadows that for me, I can’t be with someone who doesn’t care. Well..Taehyung does care. That I know. However..this specific encounter that’s occurring is making me find my thoughts of him reasonable.

“Oh..well..I’m sorry..but..you walked into-“

He didn’t even let me finish my sentence before he scoffed, bumping into my shoulder, almost as if it was purposely, walking away with that bitchy ass walk. I felt like the cafeteria go silent, or at least not fully, but most of the tables around me were overhearing us. I almost got flinched from that shoulder bump that he did.

What the hell is up his ass?? I didn’t even mean to bump into him on purpose, he was the one who walked into me, he’s a giant, how the hell was I supposed to move??

I looked at him walk away in disbelief before I felt someone grab my shoulder. I look over to see that it was Yunjin. “Y/n? Are you okay? That really wasn’t necessary of him to snap at you like that.” She reassured me as she sat me down in the circle table with our group. Our group consisted of her, Keeho, Yuna, Beomgyu, and Yeonjun.

“Well that was definitely an impression.” Keeho said as he munched on his chips.

“I can’t tell if I wanna kill him or myself.”

“Both.” Beomgyu said, slightly snickering, Yeonjun who was next to him slightly raising his eyebrows. “Beomgyu, really?” Yuna responded from across the table, sat next to Sakura.

“Don’t worry about him, I think he’s always that rude.” Yunjin says, patting my shoulder gently.

“I really don’t know what others see in him besides his looks.” Sakura comments.

“Exactly!!” Beomgyu exclaims, causing some people in the table in front of us to shift their attention towards us for a moment. “Well someone’s passionate.” Yeonjun responds, causing Beomgyu to nudge his shoulder, muttering for him to shut up under his breath.

“Anyway..you have more relevant things to worry about..like your actual boyfriend. Did he respond to your text? What did he say?” Yuna asks eagerly.

I pull my phone out to check if I got any notifications, I even checked the message I sent just incase it didn’t send.

────୨ৎ────

────୨ৎ────

Delivered.

“Uh..no. Still delivered.” I felt a bit disappointed. But I remembered he doesn’t have the same lunch period as us, so he’s probably unable to reach his phone since he’s in class right now.

“Oh.” Yuna slightly mumbled, her voice tone shifted to something more blank as she pouted, she was expecting him to respond. “Well..that’s okay, he has class, right? He’ll probably respond later.”

She’s right, Taehyung may take a while to respond, but he never willingly ignores me, right?

“Girl I think he’s ignoring you.” Keeho asserted a bit too bluntly for my heart as he looked at his phone with slightly raised eyebrows.

“Damn Keeho, what’s that about?” Yeonjun commented, widening his eyes from the bold claim.

“I’m not just saying that, I texted him a bit after you did, and it only took him a couple minutes for him to respond to my message perfectly fine.” Keeho added.

“Let me see.” I grabbed his phone from him, looking at the screen showing their messages. Keeho texted him about practice, and Taehyung responded not even 3 minutes later. This wasn’t even long after I texted him.

I fell silent as everyone else tried to take a peek at what I was looking at, once everyone saw it, Beomgyu was the first to speak up.

“Bitch?” Was the only word he said afterwards, I was about to express my own concern before Sakura cut me off, raising her hands.

“Well, hold on, he’s probably not doing that on purpose. Maybe your message didn’t fully send? It could be bad reception or something.”

“If it says delivered, then it’s sent.” Yeonjun debunks Sakura’s excuse, causing me to feel even more worse.

Was it something I did? Is he mad at me? What did I do? I kept asking a series of questions in my head, growing more and more stressed at the amount of possibilities, is he gonna break up with me? Does he not wanna talk to me anymore?

It was almost as if Yunjin sensed my worries, and started speaking while putting an arm around my shoulder. “I’m sure you did nothing wrong, Y/n, maybe he’s just..uhhhh..” Love her for trying.

“Why can’t you just talk to him after lunch? You see him afterwards, yeah?” Yeonjun stated his idea, causing everyone else in our table to nod lightly.

“Only during passing periods, I don’t have a class with him.”

“Well, still, I think you should try talking to him. Once he tells you it will all probably make more sense.” Yuna adds, everyone nodding lightly again in agreement.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll do that.”

I eventually thought to just do it, I don’t think Taehyung would have any bad intention, maybe he responded mentally? I do that a lot. Maybe he’s just..waiting to tell me in person?

Whatever reason it is, it’s better to hear him say it instead of just assuming.

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After lunch, I usually wait for him under the stairs. His class was right near, so he didn’t take long. But, for some reason, 2 minutes passed and he still wasn’t here.

I tapped my foot anxiously, did he just..forget about me? No, maybe he’s coming out late, his teacher might be telling him something. Or maybe-

“Boo!”

I felt a breeze of air hit my ear, the feeling of that causes me to fully flinch, falling back.

I tilt my head up to see the man I was waiting for, Taehyung, laughing at me manically.

“You’re so funny, Y/n! You’re just so vulnerable, it’s so easy to scare you like this.”

I pick myself up, no thanks to him, cleaning the slight dust that probably landed on my skirt from pretty much falling on my ass. As soon as I look up at him he leans down to press soft kisses against my neck, it causes me to slightly shiver before I pull him back. “Taehyung, can I ask you something?”

“Mm, what is it?” He said in between kisses, apparently me pulling him away didn’t stop him from trying to devour my neck.

“You didn’t respond to my text.”

He doesn’t stop, no matter how many times I try to push him away. I was really trying to be serious with him but he just didn’t know how to.

“I was busy, in class.” He says in between kisses, he moved to my jaw, causing me moan slightly, but I managed to push him away before I continued. “You responded to Keeho, though.”

He stops his assault of kissing, looking down at me, the proximity between our faces made me shiver. “You know I don’t have to always respond to you all the time, right? Since when did you become so clingy?”

His words made my heart ache, clingy? He was the one literally trying to mark me down like an animal. “I..I wasn’t trying to-..”

“Look, I saw your text, I’ll think about it, okay?” He says, bringing his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“You’ll think about it?” I repeated.

“I have practice after school.”

He really could’ve just said that, but the only thing I could mutter out was a “Oh.”

“I thought you would’ve known from your little guy friend.” He said that in a almost harsher tone.

“You really don’t have to call him that.”

“Why are you being so defensive towards him? Do you want him or something?“

“No, that’s not what I’m-“

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I got a bit out of control there. I’ll see what I can do, okay?” He says rubbing my shoulders to reassure me, and damn I would be lying if it didn’t work every time.

He closed the gap between our lips as he gently pressed his lips against mine. His hands reached lower from my back to grip my waist as he pulled me against him, causing me to moan quietly into the kiss. He slowly lowered his hands, and when I felt like he was on the brink of groping my ass, I smacked his hands, holding my pointer finger infront of his face, causing him to laugh. “Hey, what did I say about doing that in school?”

He bit his lips, smirking at me. “It’s not like anyone can see us, but fine, I’ll control myself.”

He held out his hand to hold mine, leading me out from under the stairs. “We’re gonna be late to both of our classes if we don’t hurry.”

I smiled as I felt his hand against mine, something I don’t think I felt in a while.

He may be a bit rude sometimes, and some of his actions may be hard to explain, but I love him either way.

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[allwaswell16]

One Direction fics that have an emotionally repressed character in them as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Louis/Harry—

✦ This Multiplicity of Powers by @helloamhere

(E, 149k, superheroes) Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside. But this isn’t that universe. //an X-Men AU.

✦ Love Is A Rebellious Bird by @gloriaandrews, @100percentsassy

(E, 134k, enemies to lovers au) Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who “has made Mozart cool again” according to Esquire Magazine

✦ Hold You Now by solvetheminourdreams / @cursethedaylight

(M, 131k, ex-fwb) When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

✦  I’ll Fly Away by @juliusschmidt​

(E, 122k, friends to lovers) Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road.

✦ The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by @kingsofeverything

(E, 109k, infidelity) Louis’ life is steady and calm, moored by his marriage, and tied to his hometown, but after a chance encounter with another man, it’ll never be the same.

✦ ghost of you by beckywritesthings / @beckydoesthings

(E, 109k, Star Wars) a Star Wars AU where Harry is Obi-Wan, Louis is Satine, and somehow there’s a love story between the cracks where there shouldn’t be.

✦ Promise in the Sky by Throwthemflowers

(E, 99k, religion) AU in which Harry Styles, a naïve, repressed, socially awkward Midwestern highschooler tries to navigate his fundamentalist evangelical parents and radically progressive older sister. 

✦ These High Walls by LarryAlways28 / @larryaboworld

(E, 68k, a/b/o) He was the ideal son - until he presented as an Omega. Now, barely a year after his old man dropped dead and running the family company, if he makes a mistake with the Tomlinson and Sons merger and acquisition, it's game over.

✦ i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) by  thedeathchamber / @louehvolution

(E, 55k, secrets) Harry thinks he has good reasons for avoiding relationships. Meeting Louis puts those reasons to the test.

✦ That's What I'm Here For by @taggiecb

(E, 46k, farm au) Louis needs help running his business but has no idea where to even start looking. Luckily for him his children know just the man for the job.

✦ we should open up (before it's all too much) by @disgruntledkittenface

(M, 43k, vampire) Struggling with grieving and depression since his dad died, Harry has never felt so alone. It’s too much to cope with on his own, but he feels like a burden when he tries to open up with people.

✦ I Like You, Say It Back by ishiplouis / @pocketsunshineharry

(E, 43k, a/b/o) the one where it takes a lot of time for Harry and Louis to figure it out. But they do, they always do, don't they?

✦ Follow Your Arrow by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 36k, a/b/o) They said Louis playing alpha wouldn’t affect anything. It was the best thing for the band, so he doesn’t really regret it except deep in the dead of night, when he bites down on his knuckles to swap the echoing ache of depri for a sting of pain.

✦ Compass to my Soul by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 31k, a/b/o) Louis Tomlinson, omega, is 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time hoping his bandmates don’t notice him.

✦ When the Sun Won't Let You Sleep by @allwaswell16

(E, 30k, Antarctica) Four years ago, Louis Tomlinson left the UK to live on an Antarctic research station for reasons best left in the past.

✦ You Might Want To Marry My Husband by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(NR, 24k, grief) When Harry’s husband dies, he asks one thing of him; to find love and happiness again without him. It’s a request that Harry is happy to disregard, until he meets the one person who is impossible to ignore.

✦  the sanctity of patience by @scrunchyharry

(T, 22k, royal au) When young Lord Harry was chosen by King Louis of Bavaria to become his husband and prince consort, Harry thought all of his dreams had come through.

✦ I hope our love burns brightly by fanshae

(T, 8k, magic) Louis Tomlinson can’t really remember ever not noticing Harry Styles. 

—Rare Pairs—

✦ I Had Rather (series) by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(E, 261k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) Nick and Louis don't like each other, not even a little bit, not even at all.

✦ You're the Feeling I'm Missing by sheesusnat 

(T, 2k, Niall/Shawn Mendes) Something is off, though. Something is missing. Someone is missing.

[clairyclue]

she always stops herself just before being any sort of honest with fyedka- it must be some sort of self-preservation instinct.

yes, if she doesnt stop herself then, leave a gap between their feet, a gap between his hand and hers reaching to pluck a novel from one to the other, then she will fail completely. chava knows herself- she knows there is no going back from that fall, falling in love. tzietel and hodel had made that mistake, both of them- but papa had forgiven them, and she could hold herself strong. she could resist. and she knows- she knows- they should not talk the way they do, but she can't help herself sometimes, the way he listens, the way he understands the way anatevka could not. and it makes her think, in her bed- miserably alone, because tzietel has been gone a long time, and now, so is hodel - that maybe she understands why her two older sisters broke tradition. she understands why tzeitel married for love instead of money. she understands why hodel married a stranger, a lunatic with wild ideas, with or without permission from papa or anyone, and why she was going to be with him over anything in the world.

maybe she understands.

they mostly rendezvous in the back of the tailor shop, when motel isnt looking, when no one needs them for their spare seconds. chava clutches a basket of eggs to her chest and laughs, cheeks pink and her windswept under her faded kerchief. she can’t ignore the way fyedka smiles, not at her words but at HER. 

and they both stand there, like fools, and neither of them says a word. not a word, when he’s looking into her eyes. not a word when she fiddles with the loose threads in her apron. not a word when he steps just a hair closer across the room chaperoned only by fabric.

 and when they hear her mama calling her name, beckoning for her to stop dallying and dreaming, she gives a bashful smile and slips out of the tailor's shop. 

and they know. 

they both know what it is, and what is inevitable, but whilst one daydreams about it the other dreads, and she wonders just if her family can afford to love her and her mistake.

why must it be her to bear this burden? she knows if she carries it any longer, she will break- and then nothing will be as it was. nothing can balance in broken beams- chava can’t afford to be crushed that way. 

(yet she still hears the twigs snapping all the same.)

they’re stuck in a perilous ballet- one misstep, and it will be over for both of them in the blink of an eye. 

fyedka, less so. but for chava?

her entire world would burn. 

[hotdfic]

A Daughter of Towers

Summary:

Warnings:

PART 2!!

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Lyanna’s early years passed in the quiet halls of King’s Landing, her small footsteps often unnoticed amidst the towering Targaryen legacy that surrounded her. Yet, from the moment she could walk, it was clear to all that there was something different about the youngest daughter of Alicent Hightower. At just one year old, Lyanna’s soft green eyes already held an weakness that made others pause.

By the time she reached two, she had grown into a curious but quiet child. While her brothers, Aegon and Aemond, had been bold and brash at her age, Lyanna was content to observe, her sharp eyes tracking everything that went on around her. She wandered the Red Keep with silent fascination, her silver hair often catching the sunlight as she moved through the gardens or the shadowed halls, always seeking something new to discover.

Aegon took a particular interest in his little sister, often teasing her as she toddled after him, her small legs trying to keep up with his longer strides. “Come on, Lyanna, you’ll never catch me at that pace!” he would laugh, sweeping her up into his arms when her face turned red with frustration. He was not one for tenderness, but there was a soft spot in his heart for her, despite his teasing words. He’d often let her ride on his back, telling her exaggerated stories of battles he’d yet to fight, as she giggled with glee.

Aemond, on the other hand, treated Lyanna with a quiet reverence. Even at his young age, he was more serious, and though he had a more distant demeanor, he always made sure Lyanna was never far from his sight. He would often sit beside her in the training yard as she watched him practice with his wooden sword, glancing over occasionally to see her small face scrunched in concentration, mimicking his movements with her hands.

One evening, as Aemond rested after a particularly grueling training session, he noticed Lyanna gripping a small stick, copying his swordplay with surprisingly good form for a child of barely three. He approached her, his usual stoic expression softening slightly.

"You’ll be a warrior someday, Lyanna,” he told her with quiet pride. “But there are things you must learn first—lessons about patience and focus.”

Lyanna had only nodded, her wide eyes fixed on his, absorbing his words as if they were etched in stone. Aemond would go on to teach her small tricks—how to hold a blade steady, how to balance on her feet, and though it would be years before she could train properly, those moments with him would stick with her.

But it was with her mother, Alicent, that Lyanna shared her most intimate bond. Alicent, ever the careful strategist in the game of politics, would soften when alone with her daughter. She cherished those moments in the gardens, where Lyanna would play among the flowers, her laughter light and carefree, untouched by the burdens of her family’s legacy.

As the tension between the greens and blacks simmered, Alicent would watch Lyanna with a deep, protective love. Often, she would pull her daughter close, whispering words that the little girl wouldn’t fully understand, but would carry with her in time.

At four years old, Lyanna began to show the first signs of what she would become. Though still young, she had an unusual sense of calm about her, a steadiness in the way she interacted with the world. She wasn’t loud like Aegon had been, nor as contemplative as Aemond, but somewhere in between—a quiet storm, full of potential yet to be unleashed.

On her fourth nameday, the family gathered in the great hall. Aegon, now older and more reckless, teased her endlessly throughout the day, bragging about how sunfyre, his gold-scaled dragon, would be the mightiest in the skies.

"You’ll need to find a dragon soon, little sister," Aegon smirked, ruffling her hair. "I’d hate for you to be left behind when we all take to the skies.”

Aemond, always protective, shot Aegon a stern glance. "She has time. Dragons find their riders when the moment is right." He turned to Lyanna, who watched their exchange in silence, her piercing blue eyes observing every word. "When your dragon comes, Lyanna, you’ll know."

The words lingered in the air, a quiet promise of what was to come. Lyanna smiled at her brothers, a frown, a frown that made even Aegon pause. Though still young, there was an undeniable weakness blossoming within her. It would only be a matter of time before her destiny, her coin- be flipped by the gods, like that of all Targaryens.

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[screechingsweetstraveler]

In silence I crumble, no strength left to try, My sister is weeping, and I don’t know why. She’s drowning in burdens, with no hand to lend, And I’m standing helpless, too broken to mend.

My parents grow older, their strength fades away,

They weaken with each passing moment, each day.

I watch them grow fragile, with fear in my chest,

While the weight of the world keeps denying us rest.

The friends that I trusted have all disappeared,

Once close, now so distant, as if they were feared.

I gave them my heart, but they left me alone,

Now I’m lost in the silence, my soul turned to stone.

I don’t want to be a mistake or a mess,

I don’t want to feel like I’m failing this test.

I don’t need anyone, just peace to stay,

But please, let my family find their way.

Let my sister smile, let my parents feel strong,

I’ll bear the weight, I’ll carry it long.

I don’t want to give up on life, I swear,

But sometimes it feels like there’s no one to care.

So I give up on everyone, tired and cold,

No love to remember, no warmth to behold.

The selfishness stings like a wound in the air,

And people drift softly, like they were never there

[feral-cockroach]

as much as i joke about wanting to kill myself, and as much as my mental health truly is suffering at almost all times, one thing i can never truly ignore about myself is my sheer perseverance. like. my whole life has been a series of "i'll never make it to [age]." 16. 18. 21. and here i am now, 3 days away from turning 22, and all i can think is wow. not only did i make it, i surpassed it. and now when i look to the future there isn't any deadline that i'm quickly approaching. there isn't any sudden dropoff that i'm waiting to reach. there's just more road.

i survived far, far more shit at every age than anyone should ever have to survive in their lifetimes. i carry some of the most traumatic events anyone can ever experience with me every single day. and it's hard, and they're heavy. but i carry them anyways. because 12 year old me kept going. she carried them, too, and she self harmed to release them. and 16 year old me carried them. and he self harmed to release them, but he also tried to stop. he fought so hard to end a 4 year long addiction. and 17 year old me carried them, and he realized he couldn't fight alone. and he asked for help. and he got it. and it was scary and it was hard and some of the people who were supposed to help ended up giving him even more to carry. but he met people that changed our life, even four years later, when we don't even remember their names. and 18 year old me carried it too, and they couldn't fight the addiction, but they still tried. and 21 year old me carried it, and carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. 21 year old me carried the weight of those memories and fought that addiction and they won. and they took on the burdens of others too, fighting against an increasingly hostile world. and 21 year old me carried me at 12, at 16, at 17, 18, 20. 21 year old me carried every version of ourselves that fought so hard to make it, and they made it too. and they have passed those responsibilities off to me.

and here i am, 22, remembering being so small, and so young, and so afraid, yet refusing to give up. and i remember thinking to the future and seeing only darkness. and now here i am, carrying my past, looking towards my future, fighting for my life and fighting for the little girl, the young boy, the elder child that fought for me.

and i do still carry those traumas. i still cry sometimes out of nowhere. i still get flashbacks. i can still feel all of their hands on me when i lay too still at night. but i also carry all the love of my past. i can still feel the sun on my face, i can still smell the stale cigarette smoke of my grandpa's truck. i can still remember the warmth of his body against mine in his cold hospital bed as we cuddled and watched horror movies. i carry that love with me every day of my life.

i cannot wait to be 25. to be 30. 40. 50. 100. i can't wait to be carried by older me, to finally be able to rest. i cannot wait for the day that we all get to rest, and none of us, not our brothers or sisters or siblings, have to fight anymore. i look forward to feeling the sun on my face once more.

i love you, past selves. and i love you, future selves. and i love you, me, right now. and i love you, reading this. even when you can't find it within to love yourself, i love you. we all do.

[thegingerjedi]

Kirruk, aka "Rook"

Race: Elf

Gender: Woman

Faction: Grey Wardens

Class: Mage

Romance: Neve Gallus

Ending: Redeem

Answering a bunch of questions under the cut :)

I stole these questions from this ask meme - at the moment I'm the only one who knows anything about Kirruk, so now you all do, too!

🌻 How old is your Rook? How do they feel about celebrating their birthday?

Kirruk is 30 - and as a Grey Warden, she knows that the next birthday isn't a guarantee. So she tends to cherish them. She thinks she's lucky to have seen so much of the world and had the time to learn about it.

🪻 What is the most painful injury your Rook has received? How has it affected them once it healed/scarred?

Like Davrin, Kirruk's first encounter with a Hurlock was not a fun one. She's got scars down the right side of her face from her first solo encounter with one. But like Davrin, she got back up and punched it right back. She's sort of ambivalent about the scars - it's not a memory she's terribly fond of, but the scars and that story make her who she is. But she does notice that her jaw reacts to the presence of Blight before the rest of her does.

🌹 What’s the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved?

I'm not really sure Kirruk and Neve have ever had a true "fight," but they certainly have had any number of emotional discussions about Neve thinking she has to solve Minrathous' problems alone. And vice versa - Kirruk takes the heavy burden of leadership, and she forgets that she's surrounded by people who want to help. But mostly their disagreements come from Neve refusing to take care of herself or be cared for by others.

🌸 Does your Rook have any siblings or close friends they see as such? Where are they during the events of Veilguard?

She does!! She is the older sister of Davrin and Mylliel (another oc), and both of them join the Veilguard. She loves them more than anyone.

🌾 If there was a demon trying to trap/take over Rook, what kind would be the most successful? What would break their hold?

Despair. Kirruk is a very serious person, and can get caught up in doomthinking - especially as leader of the Veilguard, she carries the weight of saving the whole damn world against impossible odds.

Fortunately, what would break their hold are memories and images of her friends, reminders that the world isn't a terrible place. That it's worth saving, and it can be saved.

🌱 Was Rook involved romantically with anyone before Veilguard? What was their partner like? How did the relationship end?

Not seriously, but Rook (like Davrin) definitely engaged in any number of flings in her travels before Veilguard. Mostly other Wardens, but sometimes others she met in her travels. More than a couple barmaids.

She's practiced at sex, but not really romance.

🌼 If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say?

Honey and soot

🌷If Rook needed to get away from their responsibilities for a moment, where would they go? Where is their safe space outside the Lighthouse?

Anywhere in nature. She doesn't love Arlathan Forest because it feels wrong and there's magic everywhere bombarding her senses, but she loves sitting near quiet brooks and streams, listening to the birds and wildlife. It centers her in a way that's real and that the cold stone walls of Weisshaupt can't.

🥀 What figure from Rook’s personal past would be added to the regret prison?

Probably the First Warden. She'd never gotten along with him, but she hated herself for making such a direct enemy of him. Kirruk devoted herself to the Grey Wardens and their code - putting herself directly opposed to their leader never felt right to her. Then Weisshaupt happened, and even though she didn't punch him in the face, it felt like she'd just pitted herself against him yet again.

🪷 Does your Rook have an irrational phobia? (ie spiders or large man-made objects submerged underwater)

Less a phobia than an irrational suspicion, but... tropical fruit. She doesn't trust it.

🍀 Has Rook had any near-death experiences? What went through their mind during what they thought was going to be their final moments?

All the time. She's lost count of how many near-death experiences she's had. But the most recent was in the fight against Aelia - nothing will make you relive your life like taking blood magic beams to the chest. What she usually thinks in those moments is something along the lines of I hope it was enough. Against Aelia, all she can think of is Neve - their flirting, their first kiss, the many kisses that followed. The life they might have together when they save the world. And she regrets then, too, the things she didn't have a chance to say.

💐 What is the relationship Rook has with their faction mentor? What was the moment they sent Rook away like?

Bad. The First Warden saw earnest, young Kirruk brought into Weisshaupt by none other than the goddamn Hero of Fereldan, and he subconsciously decided she would never be good enough for him. She tried to fall in line, be the best Warden there could be. But eventually she just sort of... gave up. She decided she needed to do what she thought was right, not what she was told was right.

She has a much much better relationship with the Hero of Fereldan, who inspired her to join the Grey Wardens. Aineislis Tabris traveled with her and taught her how to fight for the better part of two years before Kirruk joined the Wardens. She gave Kirruk a purpose and a cause to believe in. They still write when they can.

🌺 Is there an object from Rook’s childhood they look back on fondly? (ie a favorite stuffed animal, book, or food)

A pair of toy wooden swords - she and Davrin used to play fight (usually against imaginary monsters, but sometimes against each other) with them when they were small. She doesn't have them anymore, but when she thinks of home, she thinks of those.

🌿 Does your Rook have any tattoos? What was the moment when they got them like? If they’re a Crow where is their de Riva brand located? What vallaslin do they have/how did they earn it if they’re Dalish?

She does! She has the Warden crest on her shoulder and the vallaslin of Dirthamen.

The Warden crest she got shortly after she went through the Joining. And the vallaslin she got shortly before she left her clan - a reminder to keep the knowledge and secrets of her clan close to her. It also served as a hope, that she would discover new secrets of the world that she would never be able to learn staying with the clan.

🍂 What was it like the first time Rook killed someone? How did they react afterwards?

The first time she hunted an animal successfully, Kirruk felt satisfied. Satisfied that she'd learned her lessons well, that she'd done well.

The first time she killed a Darkspawn she felt fear, but a fair amount of pride, too. She had rid the world of one more evil, one more threat to innocents.

The first time she killed a person, Kirruk felt a pit of despair and regret. They had been collateral damage in a Darkspawn attack, but she still felt like she personally had decided they needed to die. She almost left the Wardens then (as much as anyone can leave the Wardens), but after a week of contemplative and aimless meandering through the woods to get her head on straight again, she vowed to do better.

[acacia-may]

For that new ask game, can I ask 2, 4, 7, 14, 18, 19 and 27 for Nozel? Sorry if it's too many numbers.

Hi Anon! No worries at all. I'm happy to answer any and all questions about Nozel. Thank you so much for playing my game and for the ask! 🥰

Questions from this Character Ask Game

Answers & Headcanons Below the Cut [because this post got a bit lengthy]

(Warnings: Contains Spoilers for and through the Spade Arc)

2. When I think I truly started to like them (or dislike them, if you've sent me a character I don't like)

I think my perception of Nozel really began to change in the Elf Arc during the battle at Silva Castle. We learned so much about Nozel's deeper motivations and saw that he did actually care for Noelle and wanted to protect her (he just went about it in the absolute worst way possible), and he does admit he was wrong about Noelle and her abilities and actually apologizes to her there which helped paint him in a more sympathetic light to me.

All that said, I think it was really in the Spade Arc when we learn even more about why Nozel acted the way he did--that on a certain level he was really almost forced into this more antagonistic role because he literally couldn't explain that Noelle wasn't responsible for Acier's death due to the curse. Suddenly, in my mind, I have this incredibly vivid and heartbreaking mental of Young Nozel a literal child forced to carry the weight of the world alone. Not only has he lost his mother but he has also been quite literally cursed with such a heavy burden. The pain and the loneliness of that has to be unbearable for even an adult, but Nozel was only a teenager. And I think when looking at the situation from that kind of perspective, it's easy to have a lot more sympathy for him. Yes, he didn't handle the situation as well as he could have especially with Noelle, but I just started thinking to myself: would I have been able to do much better under those circumstances at only 14 years old? Would anyone, honestly? And that isn't to excuse away what he did, especially when he got older, but it does make him more sympathetic to me and I feel genuinely bad for how much he suffered and wish him good things and a reconciliation with his sister going forward.

4. How many people I ship them with

This is a very difficult question for me to answer, honestly, because I am much more invested in Nozel rebuilding his relationship with his sister, Noelle, than in any potential romantic relationship he could have. My personal view of shipping in general is as more of an actively wishing or wanting certain characters to get together with other characters, and in this particular case I'm not sure I am actively wishing for Nozel to end up with anyone in particular. There are certainly a handful of ships I like or would be okay with for him (Nozel x Dorothy and Nozel x Vanessa come to mind off the top of my head, and I also like several Nozel x OC ships created by some talented writers and artists in the fandom). Ultimately, however, I think in my mind, Nozel just has so much internal turmoil and a lot of things he personally needs to work through before I can see him really getting into a relationship with anyone (and, honestly, on some level, before I can see him even wanting to get into a relationship--but that's just my personal interpretation) so I really think I am actively wishing for him to take time to heal and to work on himself more than I am actively wishing for him to find love, if that makes sense?

If I had to put a number on it...um...I guess, since I'm not really set on any particular ship for Nozel, I'd honestly say the possibilities are kind of endless. I'd really like to see him marry for love someday, but my more practical side thinks he has probably already been betrothed to somebody and he's not really the type who'd break that kind of commitment even if he wanted to. But who knows?

7. A quote of them that you remember

I remember just my jaw dropping in this moment. (I watched the anime first, but it was also an important moment in the manga). It was such a big thing for Noelle to have her brother finally show he believed in her and suggest they fight together side-by-side. Another that comes to mind is his entire little speech at the end of the battle where he reveals to Noelle his reasons for treating her coldly were that he was trying to deter her from joining the Magic Knights and he admits that he was wrong about her and that he's sorry. It was the first step in repairing their broken sibling relationship, and though they still have a lot of work to do to see Nozel actually admit he was in the wrong and apologize for that was a big step in the right direction.

14. Best storyline they had

As of writing this, Nozel's arc in Spade and his battle versus Megicula, but we'll see if this changes with whatever Tabata has in store for him in the final arc.

18. How do you think they were as a kid? (Like, were they shy, noisy, wild, etc)

Nozel was always an old soul--wise beyond his years, quiet, serious, and responsible. He worked hard and studied conscientiously, and he very rarely got into trouble. If anything was a bit of a stick in the mud when it came to more imaginative, raucous, and childish games, and I imagine Acier often had to encourage him to stop working so hard and have fun every once and a while so he'd remember to actually be a kid while he was still young.

19. The most random ship you've seen people have with them

To start with a disclaimer: I actually like this ship, but I think I'd have to admit that Nozel x Vanessa is pretty random to me seeing as they haven't ever really interacted in the canon and I honestly would have never thought of it as a pairing if I hadn't seen it in the fandom. I think imagining the potential of it and what it could be like is part of the fun of that particular ship, but I'd classify it as random even if I feel positively about it.

27. If they could meet a character from another show/movie/etc, who would be the most fun for them to meet?

So for a very silly answer, I'm going to say Rui from Demon Slayer just because my sister and I have this running inside joke that he's basically a Nozessa love child since he has this thick, angular silvery-white hair like Nozel and a thread-based magical ability (blood demon art) similar to Vanessa's magic (Rui also has an attack called "Murderous Eye Basket" that looks very similar to Nozel's "Silver Star of Execution"). He is a villain though, so I guess you'd have to ignore that... 😅���� Still I could see Rui wanting to adopt Nozel into his "Spider Family" and Nozel just having no patience for these kinds of shenanigans which could be a fun mashup. (I also wouldn't mind watching these two battle too, so either way, I think it might be an interesting meeting).

[zapreportsblog]

I Don’t Want To Be A Hero, So Leave Me Alone

➥ summary: Like any reincarnation fanfiction this story has to do with a women from the real world dying and getting reincarnated into a anime with some massive op powers. Throughout most of this story you are nothing but a 8 month year old which transforms later on into a child, well if we make it that far that is.

➥ chapter 11: Embracing Destiny

Within the quiet confines of their home, Tomura, now a child with a troubled past, grappled with newfound revelations about his sister, (Y/N). The realization that she possessed the incredible quirk of omni-manipulation stirred conflicting emotions within him. He found himself questioning his own role, doubting his worthiness to be a hero.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts, Tomura pondered the implications of his sister's extraordinary ability. He believed that she was destined for greatness, that her power surpassed his own. In the depths of his heart, he believed she was more deserving of the hero's mantle.

Lost in his contemplation, Tomura was startled by a knock on his door. It swung open, revealing the concerned faces of his newfound parents, who had come to check on him. Their love and support were unwavering, even in the face of his doubts and insecurities.

His mother, gentle and compassionate, knelt before him, her voice filled with reassurance. "Tomura, my dear, we understand the weight of your burden. But you must know that you, too, are destined for greatness. Being (Y/N)'s older brother makes you a hero in your own right."

His father, firm yet kind, joined the conversation, his voice carrying wisdom and conviction. "Your role as her protector is crucial, Tomura. You possess a strength within you that goes beyond your quirk. It is your love, your determination, and your unwavering loyalty to your sister that will shape you into the hero you were meant to be."

Tomura gazed into their eyes, his heart yearning for acceptance and understanding. Their words resonated within him, casting a flicker of hope upon the doubts that had consumed him. He realized that the true measure of a hero was not solely based on power or ability, but rather the selflessness and courage to protect those they care about.

The weight of his parents' words settled upon him, filling him with a newfound sense of purpose. As the realization dawned upon him, a spark ignited within his heart. Perhaps being a hero was not limited to the confines of conventional expectations. Maybe, just maybe, he could carve his own path and redefine what it meant to be a hero.

With this newfound clarity, Tomura rose from his seat, determination etched upon his features. "Thank you, Mom, Dad," he said, his voice steady with resolve. "I understand now. I may not possess the same abilities as (Y/N), but I have my own strength, my own way of protecting her and others."

His parents' smiles filled the room, radiating pride and love. "That's our brave boy," his mother said, her voice filled with affection. "You have the heart of a hero, Tomura. Embrace it, and never doubt your worth."

In that moment, Tomura felt a surge of purpose course through him. He realized that being a hero meant more than just possessing a powerful quirk. It meant standing up for what was right, protecting those in need, and cherishing the bonds of family.

As he contemplated his newfound understanding, Tomura's gaze shifted to his sister's room. Determination burned brightly within him as he made a silent promise to protect her, to be the hero she deserved when their parents could not.

From that day forward, Tomura's journey took on a new meaning. He would grow to understand that heroism was not confined to labels or predetermined paths. It was a choice—a choice to embrace one's destiny, to protect and uplift others, and to forge a future filled with hope.

With a newfound sense of purpose, Tomura took the first step on his path to becoming the hero he was destined to be. Alongside his extraordinary sister, he would navigate the trials and tribulations of a world in need of heroes, relying not just on their unique abilities, but on the unbreakable bond of siblinghood.

As they stood united, their parents' love and guidance echoing in their hearts, Tomura and (Y/N) embarked on a journey of self-discovery, resilience, and unwavering heroism. Together, they would overcome the odds, redefine what it meant to be heroes, and leave an indelible mark on the world they vowed to protect.

[maya-unfiltered]

Blog Assignment #4

The film Eve’s Bayou is a film that includes themes of family secrets, trauma, and memory through the lens of a young Black girl, Eve. The horror aspect of this film is the quiet monstrosity of human behavior and the betrayal that comes with it. It is haunting and terrible for someone, especially a child, to experience fractured relationships and broken trust. Eve’s father, Louis, is not the “normal” representation of an antagonist, but his infidelity and arrogance makes him a villain. When Eve’s older sister Cisely tells her about her father’s assault, though it is left ambiguous, the trauma that comes with this experience is horrifying. While the film does not give a direct answer to what occurred between Cisely and Louis, it made me think about how victims of assault often doubt themselves and do not validate their experiences. The horror aspect of the film of being silent or keeping secrets is shown as the many characters are left to carry burdens alone. This is reflected in both Cisely and Eve as they deal with adversity in isolation. 

Eve’s development throughout the movie is emotionally impactful as we see her loss of innocence. Through the events that Eve faces, it is painful to see how she once admired certain adults like her father, but she realizes how flawed they are. Eve initially catches her dad cheating on her mother with Matty Mereaux. This ultimately leads to Eve having a panic attack and being gaslit by her dad and older sister that she misinterpreted the situation. Another moment in particular is when Eve clearly admires her dad’s work and she joins him to one of his house calls, only to witness her father’s infidelity firsthand. These events eventually lead to a shift in Eve where she realizes that the world is not as kind as she originally thought. 

The theme deeply resonates with me as I have had similar events happen in my family. As a child, it was especially hard to confront painful truths about people that I looked up to. Family members who were meant to protect me were the same people who hurt and traumatized me. Rather than trusting those around me, I naturally have my guard up. The film addresses the dangers of family secrets and how it can be even more painful to keep things from each other. The truth can hurt more when you find out yourself or later in life. It changes the way we perceive people or certain situations in our lives, as exhibited through Eve.