#they are mostly gone now and all the snakes are just sweet little angry babies

[thatoneluckybee]

I LOVE SNAKES SM LOL. BALL PYTHON MORPHS ARE SILLYYYTY

SNAKE SNAKE SNAKE SNAKE SNAKE

[shining-red-diamond]

One Little Coyote

Words: 2k

Pairing:  Hyunjin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Rating: PG

Warnings: nightmare scene, some arguing, mentions of cigarettes and smoking

A/N; I’m super proud of how this turned out! I’m sorry if it seems rushed, but I thought this was a cute and interesting concept. Banner credits to @oobin​

If the morning sun wasn’t hot enough, then the afternoon sun certainly was. Heat waves could easily be seen rising up from the dark pavement the gray Subaru traveled on. Hyunjin carefully drove himself and Y/N across the desert, even though it was mostly barren despite the occasional car that passed them in the opposite direction. The two had been on the road since eight, and it was now nearing twelve-thirty as Y/N’s stomach began to rumble.

“Are you that hungry?” Hyunjin giggled.

“Hey, you’re the one who insisted on just having granola bars instead of eggs like I suggested,” Y/N shot back.

“I know, I should’ve set the alarm for earlier.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes behind his round, dark-lense sunglasses.

Y/N sighed. “No, I should’ve just grabbed an apple.”

“Baby, we’re almost to a gas station. We’ll stop there and grab a bite to eat.”

For whatever reason, the two seemed to be arguing about something with every other conversation they had since waking up that morning. Was it because one of them slept bad? Did Hyunjin get irritated at her for some reason? Or was Y/N just hangry? They hated fighting with each other, but they couldn’t seem to get along for the first leg of their journey. The heat could be a factor in both of them butting heads, but the air was on full blast.

Y/N stared down at her twiddling her thumbs as the song changed to an old AC/DC tune, and Hyunjin glanced over at her. He felt bad for using a sharp tone at her. For months, the two had been planning a road trip from the Grand Canyon to Las Vegas; but he felt terrible for being in such a crabby mood.

Taking her hand, he laced his fingers through hers and kissed the back of it.

“Why the sudden change in behavior?” she asked with a raised brow.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized as they pulled into the gas station.

“Can we talk about this later? I just want to get some food before my stomach starts speaking in tongues.”

Before Hyunjin could respond, Y/N was already out of the car and beelined for the restaurant in the convenience store.

The gas station had only three other vehicles parked there: a motorcycle on the side of the building, a beat up brown truck at a pump, and a dark minivan at another. Heat from the sun was beating down in the surrounding area, but Hyunjin was protected under some shade at the gas pump he paid at. A snake slithered by, but it didn’t bother him. A rugged looking man exited the building and pulled a brand new pack of cigarettes and lit one up before entering the truck and pulling out, but not before giving Hyunjin a nod of acknowledgement.

When the tank was filled, Hyunjin took his receipt, parked in another spot, and locked the car before meeting his girlfriend inside. Y/N was sitting in a gray booth with an order of two burgers and large fries with two large drinks. She hadn’t touched any of the food on the tray, which she always did when she paid for food if she were traveling with anyone. Hyunjin was about to open his mouth to protest how he should have been the one to purchase the food, but he was done arguing with the love of his life.

“This looks delicious, baby,” he smiled and kissed her head before sitting in the seat across from her.

“I made sure to not get pickles in yours,” she replied.

“You know me too well.”

Once Hyunjin tied his long hair back, he and Y/N began their lunch; and she was thankful they didn’t fight while they filled their bellies with a meal.

“Just think,” Hyunjin smiled slyly, “by tomorrow afternoon we’ll be entering Vegas. The desert and heat will be a distant memory as we feast on delicious food, swim in an indoor pool, and get cozy.”

Y/N chuckled at his attempt at being smooth with his words, which in turn caused him to laugh as well.

“We can’t forget seeing all of the cool shows and counting the slot machines in each casino,” she added. “But I’m happy to just be with you for a few days, even if we don’t get to party like millionaires.”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Who needs wealth when I’m already a rich man just having the most beautiful woman in the world with me?”

“You’re cheesy, dude; but I like cheese.”

“I know,” her boyfriend replied with a wink.

As soon as they finished their meal, the two were back on the road, the surrounding desert brightened more by the afternoon sun. For about two hours, the two drive in mostly silence. The only noises around them were the radio, which would go static in some areas, and the wind outside. A few animals passed by in the sand and among the vegetation, but it was mostly snakes and rabbits.

“Babe,” Hyunjin said after a while, “about me apologizing earlier, I didn’t sleep well last night and woke up this morning in a bad mood. I hate fighting with you, and I was trying to make it up to you.”

He couldn’t exactly look at her as he was driving, but he could see out of the corner of his eye she was half smiling as he spoke.

“I’m sorry, too,” she lightly sighed. “I shouldn’t have snapped back at you. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault. The bed at the motel was too uncomfortable.”

“Hopefully, the hotel bed is much better.”

“It’s Vegas! It has to be.”

A truce was formed during their own little comedy hour, and Hyunjin was happy he was able to make it all up with his girl. Like most couples, they had their arguments some days, but Hyunjin could never stay angry with Y/N, nor could she with him. The last thing either of them wanted to do was hurt the other person, and they both knew words were impactful. Only once had they insulted each other where it hurt the most that they wouldn’t speak to each other for a week until they both cooled off and talked it over.

“I wonder where the coyotes are,” Y/N spoke up as she looked out the window.

“They’re out there,” her boyfriend replied as he glanced around the sandy plains. “We won’t be going anywhere near them, but we’re approaching a bunch of rock formations and hills in a while.”

“Maybe we’ll hear them when we camp.”

“Maybe.”

“And that one little coyote howling at the moon,” Y/N sang with a giggle.

As if on cue, the radio song switched to the exact song. It was a genie wishing her song request.

“Fitting.”

-

The night air was too quiet for Y/N, except for the coyote’s howling at the full moon every couple of seconds. Moonlight illuminated the inside of the car, and she couldn’t fall back asleep anymore. The windows were still cracked open a little to allow air to circulate, but there was no wind blowing. Y/N hated how silent it was, and the coyote’s weren’t exactly singing lullabies to her. Sitting up, she looked over to where Hyunjin was, but he was gone. His blanket remained there, but the man himself had vanished.

Maybe he just had to go pee somewhere, she thought. However, the closest gas station was miles behind them. There was no way he would have walked that far just for a bathroom with a way to protect himself. The possibility of him just finding a small bush to do his business seemed logical, and since it was dark out, anyone who passed by probably wouldn’t see him.

Against her better judgement, Y/N decided to step out and see if her boyfriend was okay. Climbing over the seats, she reached one of the passenger doors and unlocked it. Once she stumbled out of the car, she shut the door and made her way to the back. The little fire pit used to cook their hot dogs was missing, and there was no sign that anyone had made a stop there. Nothing but dry mud and weeds. The air was also freezing, but Y/N didn’t want to go back to the car until her boyfriend was found.

“Hyunjin?” Y/N called in a whisper. No answer. She called for him across the other side of the main road, but still no reply.

“Babe, this isn’t funny!” she called as she turned around to see if he was messing with her.

To her horror, the Subaru was now gone. She didn’t hear the engine turn on, no tire tracks were left, nothing. It was as if it vanished into thin air. Turning back again, the road was gone too. What was going on?

Coyote howls grew louder, and Y/N was starting to panic. Small feet scampered by her, but not a humans’ footsteps. She pulled out her phone light and looked down. A row of jack rabbits were racing by her towards the rock formations, so she decided to follow them to try to find help. She took about six steps before a branch seemingly wrapped around her ankle and tripped her, cutting into the flesh.

“Don’t panic,” YN told herself. “It’s just a bush. You can get out of this.”

However, once she sat up, whatever was holding her had let go and disappeared. It left behind her ankle bleeding, but she had no means of treating it. She could still walk on it, so she kept going.

A few snakes, poisonous ones, slithered by, hissing at her as she walked. It was as if they were threatening her to turn back or else they’ll attack and sink their venomous fangs into her.

“As I rode my pony across the Western plain,” she sang sobbed, not realizing she had been crying. “We stopped and heard a sweet and sad refrain. It filled the sundown skies with a lonesome tune. It was one little coyote howling at the moon.”

RIght at that moment, howling broke the eerie silence from behind her. When Y/N turned around, two red glowing eyes were staring at her. It was a terrible, hungry look, and a deep throaty growl sent shivers down her back. Before she could even blink, teeth flashed in front of her as if the creature attempted to eat her face off.

Y/N screamed as she felt her life ending right there.

“Baby, wake up!” a familiar voice cried out.

Opening her eyes, Y/N realized she was back in the car but in a cold sweat. It was somewhat dark out, but the sky was just barely rising by the deep purple sky fading into pink.

“Jinnie!” Y/N sobbed as she pulled her boyfriend in for a hug.

“What happened?”

Once she caught her breath, she realized everything she had seen and experienced was all a nightmare.

“Bad dream?” Hyunjin guessed as dried her head with a blanket.

“Yeah,” she sighed. She explained everything in detail to him, even checking her ankle for the injury she had sustained. To her relief, there was no cut.

“I’m so sorry you had such an awful nightmare,” Hyunjin kissed her forehead. “I forget how you have bad nightmares one the first night of a camping trip.”

“I’ll be okay,” Y/N promised. “What time is it?”

Hyunjin looked through the suitcases for some fresh clothes. “6:30 in the morning. I was awake because I got too hot in here. It wasn’t long before you screamed awake.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. It was only a dream.”

After tying his hair up to keep himself cool, Hyunjin brought Y/N closer to him and cuddled her for a while. Whenever she had a bad dream, it always comforted her to be held or snuggled until she calmed down. His heartbeat was the main composer of her calming, and she loved how warm he felt when he embraced her.

In the distance, a coyote howled.

“He won’t hurt you, my love,” Hyunjin reassured as he held Y/N tighter. “It’s just one little coyote.”

-

@hongism​ @ethereal-eirene​ @ezralia-writes​

[bnhavibes]

ummmm.... so 👉🏽👈🏽 i’m sorry for being MIA.....

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.

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but...... take this as an apology, yeah?

Kirishima, Eijirou x fem!Reader 🍋 18+ NSFW

—————//———-//——————-///—————herego

It wasn’t too often that you went to the gym with your boyfriend. Partially because you despised the campus rec center in its entirety, but mostly because of the gruesome nature that Eijirou exuded whenever he tried to impress you.

Just knowing that you were watching him while he worked out made him feel nervous, like he had to put on a show for you to see just how manly he was. Sometimes, however, the two of you would go your separate ways; you’d head off to the outdoor pool for a full body workout consisting of an lazily paced laps and leisurely laying out in the sun for a tan, and he’d go do his usual routine.

Today was one of these days.

Your loving boyfriend, however, was in some type of broody mood and you couldn’t understand why he hadn’t tried to speak to you other than to get you off your phone on the walk to the gym.

*Typically*, he’d pull you in for a sweet kiss before giving you that adorable toothy grin and a “Later, babe! Don’t miss me too much.” before splitting apart.

*Typically* the two of you would discuss what workouts you would be doing and if he would be working with or without you before you would even enter the gym.

Today was definitely atypical.

He hadn’t spoke to you save for the small talk about your own days at school... And then you started scrolling through instagram, and he didn’t even try to make conversation.

At first, you figured he was just tired and dragging himself to the gym despite not wanting to go. But then you’d look over at him in a side glance, and his expression would be blank— distant, like he wasn’t interested in whatever it was you were going to talk about.

It was late in the afternoon, and thanks to the hero course getting out so late, you got to avoid the rush of crowds at the RC.

When you usually came, there was a bustling atmosphere of all student types hanging in and around the building like it was some sort of stomping grounds. No matter who was gathered around of the two of you when you entered, someone would always make an audible reaction to the your shared parting kiss.

You pouted when he grumbled a soft “See you in a bit” at you, and walked off to the male changing rooms before you could grab him and ask what was wrong, or where your kids was. Luckily there wasn’t anybody around to see that. Despite your gut telling you that he was upset about something, you went about your routine(opting for the lazy route today since your man’s attitude left a sour taste in your mouth)

You tried to push his blank expression out of your head when you jumped into the water, letting your body fall to a soft float in the deep end; eyes open and thoughts racing to figure out just what was wrong with him. Was it something you said? It couldn’t be, you tend to praise him for just about anything whenever you spoke to him. Maybe the way you dressed for the day threw him off? No, he wasn’t controlling or toxic like that.

Whatever it was, it was pissing you off now. And you didn’t even spend time to tan with how worried you were about it; instead, you chose to leave the pool early and head to the changing rooms.

After getting a rinse off, and changing into some loose shorts and a tank top, you wandered aimlessly into the gym in search of the spikey red haired boy.

He was where he usually was, of course, the back of the gym where the deadlifters would meander about, taking turns picking up weights and watching each other’s forms in the mirror, but today it was just him.

Just him and his angry, scrunched up face watching himself as he lifted his way too heavy bar loaded with a few too many weights. You’d never seen him lift this amount before, and it worried you to the point that you almost used your Quirk to teleport yourself over by him in an instant before he injured himself.

But he didn’t. He lifted the bar like it was nothing to him. The rock solid hero in training was making the most of his Quirk, his rugged skin and rippling muscles were a sign that he was working on pushing the limits of it— and it was paying off tenfold.

Despite how angry he looked, and the literal puddle of sweat he was creating, you couldn’t stop yourself from hiding behind a machine and watching him in the distance. Something about the way he was so easily lifting a good 500kgs or more made your thighs clench together.

More and more people started leaving the free weight area until the room was emptied out entirely; the two of you the only ones who stayed behind. Still, you didn’t want to intrude on his workout, and just as you were going to leave from your perfectly hidden perverted lookout, he began to clean up.

Immediately, you noticed he had overexerted himself. From the stiffness of his body while attempting to put the weights away, to the crinkle in his nose every time he’d move a limb to wipe his sweat off.

And like any good girlfriend, you instantly teleported to his side— unintentionally scaring the life out of him in the process.

“A-AUGH! Wh-What the hell, (name)?! You couldn’t walk up to me like a normal person?” His face, though flushed from the heat, had gone pale for a second there.

“I’m sorry, my love!” You exclaimed, “I didn’t mean to scare you, I came to ask if you needed any help. You looked like you were going to snap with that last attempt.”

Still he gave you a small shrug, biting down on his lip to hide the pain he was in just from the small movement.

“Ngh, wouldn’t you rather look through instagram? I think I can handle wiping the sweat off myself on my own, I’m manly enough!” He huffed as he spoke, avoiding your gaze as he *very slowly* attempted to pick up the towel off the ground, his knees collapsing as his body trembled.

“Eiji!” You yelped, getting on your knees with him, a carefully place hand on his shoulder to keep him upright. “Just sit back, okay? There’s not too much left anyways, I got you.”

He huffed again, pouting slightly as you sat back onto your legs. You’d made it clear you knew he was upset with you by opting to stay silent as you ran the towel across his forehead and spiraled to the nape of his neck to collect any free drips of sweat off his perfectly chiseled body.

The air was still between you as he sat limp on the floor, but you were still happy to help. There was much more to clean than usual, but the towel that he had brought with him seemed to be doing it’s job as you brought it down along the length of his arm, holding his wrists gently with one hand so that the other could maneuver around him. You couldn’t help the heat building between your legs, however. Your face beginning to flush as he released sore groans as you gently squeezed his limbs. He watched you intently, an eyebrow slightly raised as you chewed into your lower lip while working on his thighs. He couldn’t help himself from getting a little turned on with the position you and your soft hands were in; between his thighs on your knees, with one hand on his knee to hold yourself up as you crept the towel up his torso, his tank top collecting in bunches and moving up out of the way as you did your job.

Now he was blushing, the anxiety of someone walking in on your ass bent over in the reflection of the mirror and atop his lap giving him the chills.... But he couldn’t stop you as you pressed your chest against his half-soft crotch, eyes half lidded and leering into his with that sweet feigned innocence in your gaze.

“B-Baby? What are you doing?” His chest heaved as you slipped your fingers up past the towel and crawled into a straddle on his lap.

“Cleaning you up just did something to me, Eiji~” You purred, snaking your arms around his head and pressing your lips to his cheek whilst scooting your crotch along his in attempt to get him closer to you. “I can’t help myself when you look so yummy after a workout.”

He could cry at the crudeness of your comment, the blood draining from his face and racing to the pumping erection in his shorts. “We can’t— Not here, they’re gonna see— oof!”

In an instant, you were teleported to the changing rooms. he was seated on a benched wall adjacent to the lockers, and you were already pawing at his top to remove it.

“Babe?” He breathlessly protested, “I don’t think it’s a good— oh~.... fuck.” His eyes fluttered shut as you suckled onto the weak spot behind his ear, hips swirling along his lap in a needy hump, and he could hear faint sticky sounds as your body became a self lubricating mess for him. He groaned softly, too sore to push you off, too turned on to stop you from doing what you were to him. He licked his lips as you removed your own top, hardened nipples in full view since you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Baby, you were so mad at me earlier,” You whined, cupping your breasts with his hands under yours, massaging yourself as you kept your hips moving. “I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t even focus on working out and when I saw you pushing yourself so hard it made me so proud to have such a manly boyfriend.”

Oh you were good at this, he could feel the saliva collecting in his mouth as he watched you writhe about in his lap. His heartbeating so hard against his chest and your wet crotch that whatever it was that made him mad was nothing but an anomaly.

“Oh, princess, I can’t stay mad at you when you look at me like that.” He moaned, leaning back against the wall to feel you grind against his entire length, giving you access to do as you please to him.

You batted your lashes down at him, still holding a hand against his own, but caressing the frame of his face with another. “You sure, Red Daddy Riot?”

He almost came right there. His flushed cheeks returned at the name he fell victim to.

“Yes, of course, princess. But you could always make it up to me, couldn’t you?”

A cruel smile spread along your cheeks, stopping your hips and hopping off his lap, earning a low whine in protest. “Tck, Tck. Be patient now.”

“So mean.” He panted, his hands moving to his waistline, pulling his shorts down just enough for his dick to escape as you turned away from him.

You decided to give him a show as you removed your bottoms, bending over slightly as you tantalizingly pulled the shorts off. He threw his head back, hitting the wall with a soft thump! as he began pumping his cock to relieve the pressure of being teased.

“Like what you see, Daddy?” Sultry in your voice, you gave yourself a playful smack to the cheek, wiggling your legs out of the shorts and playing with the lining of your panties; the thin fabric wrapping around your fingers before you tugged them down, bending over completely with them; dripping pussy in full view with the way your legs were spread.

“(name). here. now.” He growled as he ceased his moving hand, a frustrated pout on his lips.

“Yes, Red Daddy Riot.” You complied, stalking over to him with that same feigned innocence as earlier as you crawled up onto his lap.

His dick was fluctuating between Hardening and a regular erection, a sign that he was so overwhelmed with hormones that he couldn’t control his Quirk. Precum practically seeped out of the beet red tip, and you licked your lips as you watched your cunt swallow him up inch by pulsating inch.

The two of you groaned as your pelvises met. He was panting with impatience as he let you adjust to his size, squeezing your hips and ass like it was his last grip of restraint.

“Please move, princess. You’ve done enough working me up like this. I won’t be responsible for what happens if you continue on.” He was stern, but his eyes were pleading, he had been holding back the entire time you were wiping him down. It was hotter than you intended, the way you were so focused on helping him. He was watching you the entire time, despite you thinking he was still mad at you.

You beamed a smile down at him as you pressed your arms against the wall behind his head. “Anything for you, my love.”

You began slow, grinding your hips along his length the same as before, mouth opened in an “o” as you peered down at him, his furrowed brows and sweaty forehead a tell that not only was he enjoying this, but he needed more.

“Fuck,” He moaned breathlessly, pressing a hand at the bottom of your back to keep you buried to the hilt. “Your pussy feels so good, baby, you make me wanna stay buried this deep inside you forever.”

You moaned, pulling his chest to yours, bringing your legs up onto the bench to feel him even deeper, your legs quivering at the delicious pumping inside your walls. “God, Eijirou, when did you start being so lewd?”

“I can’t help it when you feel this good, (name). You’re milking my cock like a good little girl; look at you! All supple and pressed against me like this.” His words only fueling your lust, making you dig your hips deeper against his lap. He groaned as you slid along his legs, keeping one palm on your back and the other at the nape of your neck.

“Fuck, Daddy, you feel so good~” You choked out, needily thrusting on his cock as you let out whiney grunt, working yourself harshly against him. “Your cock is scraping my insides so well~”

“You’re the lewd one now, princess. That sure is a filthy mouth you got there,” He moaned, eyes squeezing shut as he began closing his fist around your neck, his thumb burying itself into your throat. Squishy, wet slaps filled the locker room. He could hear every time your cunt sucked him in and every time your hips snapped along his own.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck~!” You cried, picking your pace up as you chased your orgasm. “I’m cumming, Daddy, nngh~! I’m cumming on your cock, a-ammhphh~” Your moans silenced by the tongue in your mouth, he sat forward as he squeezed your body inhumanly close to his, thrusting upwards to meet your own. Your orgasm hit you instantly, a guttural moan echoing in the still air as he sloppily laid kisses and licks around your jawline, arms squeezing you in place as he fucked himself into you harder.

“You like that, babe?” He growled in your ear, “You like when I fuck you back like this, huh? Is this what you wanted from me? God listen to your pussy, you squirted all over my cock didn’t you?” His voice was gruff, speaking between his teeth as he continued mercilessly thrusting into you.

You were moaning so much you couldn’t speak, the walls of your pussy clenching around him so hard you felt the second orgasm already building up. “Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, right there~ Ba-a-b—b—-uhhh~” Your head fell back as he relentlessly shook your body around, tongue lolling to the side while he abused your nether regions.

whap!

He slapped your ass cheek, causing you body to spasm roughly as he continued his ruthless fucking. “Don’t forget, it’s Daddy.” He scolded for your slip up, cock Hardening inside you; the rigged feeling made you scream, tearing up as you came a second time, smothering his lap in your essence.

“Mmm,” He hummed, “A second one already. You greedy girl. At least let me catch up before you lap over me.”

Your thighs clenched around his torso, keeping him in place while he bottomed out into you, spewing his load all over your spongey insides. “Daddy! P-Please, keep going! I— nnnnnFUCK!” you cried, slamming down on his lap harder, your hand finding its way to the folds of your cunt, shakily searching for your clit.

“You want more?” He groaned, “Fuck, princess, you’re so greedy today. But don’t worry, Red Daddy Riot’s got plenty of cum for that needy pussy of yours.”

Bringing your head up by your hair, he held you up by his face whilst cumming a second time, watching you as your eyes rolled backward and furiously rubbing your clit.

Your third orgasm didn’t even faze him, the way your walls were spasming, you were probably continuously cumming at this point. Still, the look on your face fueled him enough to grit through his sore muscles and flip you onto the bench, pressing your legs against the wooden furniture by your ankles, and fucking you into oblivion as his own orgasm spilled out of his cock.

A slew of curses and your name left his lips, his hips sputtering while he finally released his Hardening from his dick. He began to bite down on the underside of your thigh, shark-like teeth causing your legs to shake harder. You yelped from the pain, but his unwavering movements subdued you into more bliss, your brain in a fuzzy state of mind you couldn’t tell what felt good or bad anymore. He didn’t draw blood, but there were prominent purple bite marks along your lower legs, his last orgasm already leaking out as he gave you tiresome, slowed humps.

He toppled onto your chest, arms hanging over the sides of the bench as he lay his head in your neck.

“I tap out.” He said breathlessly. “I don’t think I can move anymore.”

You had forgotten all about his workout earlier, and despite your quivering body, you reached for your bags and clothes beneath you, placing them on his back before focusing all the remainder of your energy into one final teleportation. You might’ve overexerted yourself as well in the process, but it was better than the two of you crawling your way to the dorms.

Unfortunately, you didn’t make it to the bed, instead, the two of you plopped onto the floor of your bedroom.

“Now neither of us can move.” He complained.

“It could be worse.” You said, a hint of embarrassment in your voice. “I could’ve miscalculated and landed in the living room.”

“Please don’t tell me you did.” He said, eyes still shut.

“Can you run?” You said, a hint of play poking through your voice. “I’m kidding.”

“Geez, you sure are a riot, (name). And that’s coming from me.” He lazily pressed a kiss against your neck. “I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Red Daddy Riot.” You giggled.

[hoodoo12]

Roses and Rot

This is based of a loose prompt: “Jealous and possessive Keatlejuice where the boy goes feral”. My pals @vicunaburger (Last Train Home)and @clairjohnson (Night Out) also wrote for this prompt; go check them and their fine stories out!

NSFW. Possessiveness, extreme violence and gore, smut, minor bondage, dub-con. This is a darkfic.

~

There hadn’t been any sound. No warning, and that was the scariest thing of all. There was some asshole douchebag who’d been catcalling you and who jogged after you down the sidewalk, even though you’d made it plainly clear you wanted nothing to do with him. The guy had the balls to grab your shoulder, and that was the end.

He’d been torn away from you so abruptly you’d been jerked back too, stumbling and losing your balance. You shouted, because you’d first thought the guy had done it himself, but when you gathered your wits your shout died in your throat at the sight that met your eyes. The douchebag was on his back and screaming, although his voice also went the way of yours. For a different reason, however: it was hard to scream when there was no breath capable of being drawn after the hand shoved in his gut ruptured his diaphragm and was now elbow deep into his chest. “Heart’s still beatin’. Pity,” Beetlejuice laughed. “Not for long though, buddy.” Straddling the man’s legs like they were wrestling or they were lovers, he extracted his hand slowly, like that would be a kindness to make it hurt less. When just his hand was still inside, he cocked his head. “I think that’s your liver. Spleen feels a little less smooth, an’ if I’d gone through it--whoa! You’d have bleed out way too soon! Oops, looks like my damn ring is caught on something--”

With a more violent jerk than maybe needed to happen, he yanked his hand out of the guy with the thickest wet sound you’d ever heard. You retched involuntarily as Beetlejuice examined what looked like a rope of intestine in his hand. Your gag caught his attention. Quick as a snake, he looked up and caught your eyes. Typically pale blue, his eyes were blown dark with what you would have classified as arousal, except he was drenched in blood and was pawing through a person’s innards like picking up candy from a destroyed pinata. Beetlejuice grinned ferally at you, licking his teeth. He seemed to realize he’d gotten some blood sprayed onto his chin, because he licked further down to remove it. You weren’t sure what to think. Or say. Or do. You felt frozen, a rabbit, pinned by a predator’s gaze. Your choices were to not move and maybe he’d ignore you, or run and hope he was having too much fun with the soon-to-be corpse under him. “What’s the matter baby?” he said with much too much amusement in his voice. “I did this for you.” You could barely wrap your head around that, and you shook your head slightly because of it. The amusement on his face melted to a scowl, and you flinched. Luckily, Beetlejuice seemed to believe it was due to the man twitching and still trying to draw breath underneath him. He turned ferociously back to him. “You fuckin’ cocksucker--you apologize to the lady!” he spit, literally, in the dying man’s face. 

It was unfathomable to you the amount of pain and shock the guy must be in, with his guts systematically being pulled from the hole Beetlejuice put in him. When he didn’t respond to the order that had been given to him, the specter snarled and used his unoccupied hand to grab the guy’s chin to twist his head up and over awkwardly to look at you. “Fucking apologize,” he demanded again. He held on with so much force his nails cut into the man’s cheeks. The guy who may or may not have assaulted you given the chance, whose only ‘crime’ was being a prick in public and daring to lay a hand on you, managed to raise his eyes enough to meet yours. He was crying, but still no real noise came from him; collapsed lungs didn’t provide enough air to pass through vocal cords. He wheezed, a little. 

Beetlejuice cranked his head back to a more proper position. “That’s much better,” he said brightly, like a teacher praising a pupil that finally understood something complex. “I’m sure you’ll never do anything like that again, will you?” The guy wheezed again, and you could see that his tears made clean tracks through the blood on his face. “WILL YOU?!” Beetlejuice screamed suddenly, dropping his face within inches of the man. 

The guy still had enough strength to flinch. That made Beetlejuice laugh again, and he planted an opened-mouth kiss to the man’s mouth. It prevented you from seeing what his hands were doing, but you didn’t miss the specter sucking in like he was stealing the last of his victim’s breath. When he sat back up, a string of bloody saliva bridged between the two men’s lips. With one hand on the man’s chest and the other still running intestines through his fingers like fine silk, Beetlejuice cocked his head. “Heart’s giving out, buddy. Maybe, if I’m quick--” And again, with no warning, he torn into the man’s torso with a frenzy. You’d never known how strong he was; you’d never considered how strong he was, but skin and muscle split and ribs were cracked, and before you even had the chance to look away, Beetlejuice had his prize: exposure of the guy’s heart, still in his ruin of his chest, beating erratically from blood loss and rapidly dropping blood pressure. Beetlejuice looked up at you, gave you a wink, and gave the heart a vicious flick. Luckily the guy didn’t feel it; he was obviously dead. Hawking something up from the back of his throat, the specter spit a gob of mucus directly into the dead man’s open chest. You’d never seen someone die before. You’d never seen such frenzied carnage. If you could have torn your eyes away from the show of wanton destruction, you would have. You felt numb and shocky yourself, like you wanted to vomit and curl into a fetal position all at the same time. All your limbs were cold. The fact that it was done so casually, that Beetlejuice looked just as he’d always looked--grimy, moldy, the corners of his mouth always just about to turn up like he was always one step ahead of anyone else around--he didn’t look monstrous at all except that his favorite suit was now that start of a joke--what’s black and white and red all over--

--your thoughts felt fractured, a skipping record, and a giggle slipped out of you, less for amusement or approval and more because you had no reference on how to respond to any of this.

Beetlejuice took your giggle the wrong way, of course. In a flash, between one blink and the next, he was at your side, arms around your waist to hold you upright and against him. The blood soaked into his suit felt clammy and left smears on you. There was still a feral light in his eyes, and pressed this close, it wasn’t any secret he was aroused. “Nobody gets to touch you but me, baby,” he informed you. Just as he leaned down for a kiss that you dared not refuse him, he continued, “You’re mine.”

His mouth covered yours and you held your breath. The taste of him, damp soil with base notes of roses and rot, was familiar; the new flavor of iron from the residual blood on his face was not and you did not care for it much. Naturally, he didn’t care. While you squeezed your eyes shut and tried not to act too put off in case that made him angry, an odd pressure surrounded you and when he released you and you opened your eyes, you were back in your bedroom. You didn’t dare point out that if he could just remove you from the situation on the street he didn’t have to tear that guy apart. 

Wiping his thumb along his lower lip as he stared over you with hungry eyes, he repeated in a low voice, “You’re fucking mine,” as if you’d argued. 

He still seemed to think there was some disagreement, however, maybe because you were still shocky from the events and you weren’t as responsive as typical to his advances. He lifted his lips in what you thought was supposed to be a smile but came off more as a snarl. “Men. Always sniffin’ around, always thinkin’ they can touch whatever they want without consequences. Never thinkin’ that what they’re touchin’ might belong to someone else!” he ranted. This was not the time to try and educate him on the fact that the word “belong” was offensive and demeaned you into being property. 

He took a breath that you know was for show because he didn’t actually breathe any longer, and focused on you again. “I know you didn’t flirt with that guy, baby. I know you didn’t ask for him to follow you and touch you. He was just a prick who got his just reward. But I gotta say . . . seeing him try and get your attention . . . it got me a little possessive.” Once again you held your tongue, although that was damn obvious. You weren’t against possessiveness, per se, and had occasionally breathed into his ear that you only wanted him, you were his, those sentiments and the like slipping from your lips as he fucked himself into you, but this was a little more than typical. The standard thrill of his aggressive behavior was there, even if your pulse also pounded out of fear. Beetlejuice gave you a much softer smile, and it almost made you relax. When he stepped up to you again, however, the smile slipped and a rock settled in your gut because your subconscious better recognized the not so sweet intent behind him coming close again. He grabbed the back of your head, his ragged nails catching in your hair. That was not uncommon; his hand being tacky from mostly dried blood was. You gasped and automatically pulled your head back in response. That only made him laugh. “Gotta be a way to show assholes like that you’re mine--” he growled half to himself, but loud enough for your ears too. “Gonna show them you’re mine--”

With that, he spun you around. Off balance because you weren’t expecting it, you fell front first onto the mattress. Before you could twist or protest or anything, you found yourself without a stitch of clothing on; one of his ‘parlor tricks’ that sometimes you liked very much. A new element had been added, however: your arms stretched forward and wrists restrained with exactly what, you didn’t know. You didn’t keep any ties or shackles in your bedroom; there’d never been any talk of tying up or restraint--

“--gonna prove it, I know you know you’re mine, baby, but other people, other people need to know--”

His obsessive rambling didn’t calm you. He drew his tacky hands down your back to the swell of your ass, and he kicked open your legs, putting you in a more precarious position without your feet under you. You heard the soft noise of a zipper, even with both his hands still on you, spreading you open so your pussy was exposed. 

“--I’ll show ‘em, it’ll be a giant neon sign announcing to the world--”

You had no idea what he meant, but could only imagine it was some sort of other phasmagorical trick he could conjure. Maybe he’d brand you with his name? Maybe he’d claw you till you were bleeding, leaving scars which would give other people pause to even talk to you? His cold fingers dragged themselves through the folds of your pussy and automatically your back dipped to allow him better access. He chuckled through his word vomit and now the head of his cock, wider than his fingers, followed their same trail. You relaxed as best you could against the restraints stretching your arms, knowing what was coming next. With one hand still gripping your hip, when Beetlejuice found where he wanted to be he thrust forward and filled your cunt with one motion. With zero preparation and a slaughtering as foreplay, the friction was immense and you cried out. You’d fucked him often enough that he opened you up easily, and the tight drag and pull lit up your nerve endings anyway. Your cry of surprise that devolved into a moan made him chuckle again. The hand he’d used to hold the base of his cock while he seated himself inside you came up and slapped your ass more sharply than you expected and you jumped and yelped, which only spurred him on more. He did it again, this time spanking you lower on your ass. You felt the extra sting of his ring making heavy contact with the thin skin of your upper thigh. 

Through it, he fucked you at a blistering pace. 

You cried out with each thrust; you groaned each time he pulled back. You’d have reached behind yourself to grab at him, to hook your fingers into his waist, or slipped a hand under you to finger your own clit, but neither of those were options since he decided he wanted all the control himself. You had no choice but to enjoy the rough ride. Beetlejuice hadn’t stopped talking, although it was now interspersed with his own guttural groans. “--fuck-fuck-fuck, your fuckin’ cunt is the best, baby--it’s mine an’ I’m gonna make sure people fucking know it--”

Going to your tiptoes, even with your legs spread to accommodate him, helped tilt your pelvis so he managed to thrust against the perfect spot inside you, even if he didn’t do that on purpose. Drool made a wet spot under your cheek on the mattress, because he drove such pleasure into you it was difficult to remember to do something like close your mouth or swallow. “--gonna fucking fill you up, fuck! Gonna, gonna--” Beetlejuice leaned over you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress. He hadn’t shed his clothing, you learned with a start, as the still damp-with-blood fabric of his jacket and shirt chaffed over your back. You wiggled more out of disgust than pleasure at the feeling of it, but he didn’t seem to recognize that subtle difference, or he didn’t care. He moved one hand to entangle itself into your hair again, to steady himself and stretch you back towards him. With his face now against your neck he grunted, “--gonna fill your cunt with come, baby--”

You gasped at those words, and he laughed again. “--oh, you like that? You like the idea of this dead guy’s come up in your pussy, smelling like me, huh? No one’d mess with you then, so full of rot--gonna flood your cunt--”

Was that even possible? Typically he liked to pull out and come on you, and yes it didn’t smell great but it was easily washed away. If he came in you, would the stench linger? The thought terrified you. The thought also excited you. You should be ashamed and alarmed, but just couldn’t be; him positioned on top of you, his cock still hammering into you, throwing sparks of bliss keep into your belly, promising that no one else would want you, you couldn’t do anything but take what he gave you and it was so, so good--

With a howl, you came around his cock, your pussy spasming even as he continued to thrust into you. He was still talking but your ears were ringing, and in another few moments, while you worked to catch your breath, Beetlejuice yanked your hair hard enough to make you cry out, and shoved his hips so hard into you it actually hurt, and groaned during his own release, deep inside you, just as he’d promised. 

He didn’t immediately pull out and roll off of you either, as typical. He stayed right where he was, rocking his hips through his orgasm as if actively working his come to where it needed to be to leave your pregnant. After several moments and slowly feeling like you were going to have to struggle to get him off you so you could draw a full breath, he pushed himself up and back. You heard him fiddling with his fly again, and wondered if he even dropped his trousers during at all. 

As his cock left you a gush of wet soaked you and the edge of the mattress. Beetlejuice grunted and shoved his fingers up against your pussy as if to push his come back in. You stretched and wiggled against the restraints on your wrists, and suddenly they were gone too.

You rolled over, not caring that whatever bloody mess he’d transferred to you would be on your bedding now. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to feel.

The specter still looked like he worked in a particularly unsanitary butcher shop. Instead of stripping or anything else remotely politely human, he dropped onto the bed bedside you and spooned into you, like all this had been normal.

“I fucked up, baby,” he whispered, to your amazement. 

Oh! Maybe he did see that he went overboard and unnecessary!

He sighed and kissed your shoulder. You felt the imprint of his teeth, but he didn’t bite you. In an even lower voice, he continued, “I should’ve kept that guy alive so he could’ve seen all that we just did there. Then I shoulda fuckin’ offed him.” You kept your mouth shut once again, and just lay with him like he wanted. 

fin

[apriorisea]

BTS Imagine: Dealing with a Toddler Tantrum - Jimin

You hear the sound of a crash, followed quickly by your 4-year-old son’s wicked and delighted giggle. It brings an automatic smile to your face---that only doubles in size when you hear your husband’s laugh join in. You hit the save button on the document you had been editing and close your laptop; enough work for the day. It was time to spend some time with your two favorite boys in the whole world.    The source of the crash is immediately apparent as soon as you turn the corner into the living room: Jimin and your son are sitting in the center of the living room (still laughing) surrounded by every single wooden block you own.    “What’s all this?” you ask, trying---and failing---to keep the humor out of your tone.     “Mommy!” Your little boy climbs to his feet and races towards you, wrapping himself around your legs in the world’s tightest hug before releasing you again. “Daddy and I made a tower! And then crashed, BOOM!” He dissolves into helpless giggles again. “Did you hear? Did you??”    You ruffle his hair. “Yes, sweetie, I heard! Was it a big tower?”    He chuckles maniacally. “YES. The biggest!! SO big, huh, daddy?”    “Yep,” Jimin agrees, meeting your eye with a huge smile. “The biggest tower in the world.”    “In the WHOLE world,” your son corrects him, dancing back over to the rug where the wreckage still is. “Again, daddy! Let’s build again!!”    “Okay!” his dad agrees gamely. “You get started while I make mommy some tea, okay?”    “Okay.” With a very serious face, your little guy starts gathering blocks again.    Jimin gets to his feet, crossing to where you stand and planting a kiss on your forehead. “How’s the work going, babygirl?”    You snake your arms around his waist. “It’s all right. Not quite as fast as I’d like, but I’ll be done before the deadline.”    A tiny frown crosses his face. “Do you need to do more? Were we too loud? I---”    “Nope.” You squeeze him, then reach up to kiss him briefly. “All I need right now is to be here with my boys, watching some serious tower-building.”    He grins and pulls your hands away from his waist; putting one arm around your shoulders, he guides you towards the kitchen. “Perfect. You know us Park men---we’re always looking to show off for the ladies,” he adds with a wink.    It’s crazy how, after all this time, it still makes your heart flutter. “Oh believe me, I know it.”    He laughs and heads for the kettle. “Will you grab the mugs, my lovely girl?”    Handing him two of your favorite mugs, you lean on the counter and watch your son painstakingly stack block on top of block; at one point, his mini-tower topples over and you hear the heaviest, pettiest sigh before he gets right back at it. It reminds you of your husband so much it makes you want to cry.    Jimin joins you at the counter, pressing a mug of steaming tea into your hands and then settling in, his shoulder touching yours. “He’s getting so big,” he says softly. “Where has all the time gone?”    Setting your mug down, you link your arm through his and rest your head on his shoulder. “Time flies when you spend most of your time building impossibly tall towers,” you tease, and he tips his head over to rest on yours playfully. “I think you’re definitely up for Dad of the Year, you know.”    “He’s going to start school soon,” your husband goes on, his voice thoughtful and quiet. “Real school. And then he’ll grow up so fast after that...”    You sit up, turning to look at him in (mostly) mock outrage. “Are you trying to make me cry??”    “Of course not!” He straightens too, abandoning his mug of tea to wrap his arms around your waist again, pulling you close. “I’m just saying, we’ll miss these times someday. We’ll miss these years.” He rests his forehead against yours.    Sighing, you wrap your arms around his neck. “I know. We---”    There’s another crash from the living room, but this time it isn’t accompanied by giggles. Your son lets out a loud, infuriated, dinosaur-screech and the two of you look up just in time to see him chuck a block at the couch.    You glance at your watch. “Right on cue...”    “Nap-time,” Jimin finishes for you.    For just a second, you both watch the tantrum play out: big tears, loud crying, stomping, wailing, kicking blocks out of the way. It never ceased to amaze you the way your sweet, loving, perfect little boy could turn into such a terror in such a short time.     Your husband moves first. “I’ve got him,” he says easily, leaning down to kiss your cheek before releasing you.    “Still worried that we’re going to miss these days?” you ask with a raised eyebrow as your toddler sends another block flying.     Jimin just winks at you before turning back to the carnage in front of him. “Hey---” he starts calmly, crouching down next to your son (who has now thrown himself on the floor, facedown, in an act of desperation). “What’s going on, buddy?”    “The---the tower FELL!” he accuses dramatically, pointing one trembling hand at the offending pile of blocks. “It just FELL ALL OVER.”    “Aw,” Jimin continues, rubbing the little boy’s back soothingly. “That’s frustrating, isn’t it?”    “YES. I HATE blocks!” The crying intensifies.    His dad clucks his tongue sympathetically. Sitting on the floor next to your little guy, he reaches out and easily pulls him up. “Come here, baby,” he says, still calm, still soothing. “It’s okay.” Wrapping his son tight in his arms, he rocks him back and forth a little. “You worked really hard on the tower, didn’t you?”    The angry side of the tantrum starts to melt away. “I did,” he sobs into his dad’s arm. “I was g-gonna show you and--and mommy!”    Jimin leans down and kisses the top of his little boy’s head. “You know the best thing about blocks?” he asks quietly.    “W-what?” Your son looks up at him with wide eyes that are still filled with big tears.    “You can always start a new tower!” he answers, reaching out to carefully comb some of the little boy’s wild hair out of his face. “And this time, daddy will help, how about that? And then we can both show mommy!”    Your precious son looks over at you, eyes wide, for confirmation and you nod immediately. “I would love to see the new tower you and daddy build together!” Moving out of the kitchen, you crouch down next to the two of them. “I bet it will be the coolest tower ever!”    There’s a brief glimmer of a smile---and then a new concern crosses his tiny face. “But...but what if it falls again?” He looks up at his dad anxiously.    “Then,” Jimin says, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “We start over! That’s what makes it fun!” He relaxes his hold just a little and looks down into your little guy’s face seriously. “Right?” he asks, using both hands to wipe the remaining tears away.    This time, the smile stays. “Right!” Without waiting for another word, your son jumps to his feet and chases after the blocks he had tossed away, already chattering to himself about how great the new tower was going to be.    Jimin looks at you. “I figure one, maybe two more towers and then it’s off to nap-time.”    “Good thinking,” you say, leaning over to kiss his lips softly. “Definitely Dad of the Year.”

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Dehydration Ain’t No Joke

Ask: Hey, are you taking requests?If so, could you write a one-shot for me, please? I've read all your Arthur Morgan fics, and I'm a little obsessed with your writing, I gotta say. Anyway, I had this idea in my head of Arthur going through a New Austin styled landscape and coming across a dehydrated woman. She collapses and he helps her on his horse at the front and rides with her to the nearest town to seek for help, meanwhile saying "You're alright, girl" or something. She's like, half-alive.

Warning: Cursing, fainting.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: Sorry this took so long! My inbox is so full right now, so to everyone who has sent me requests: Don’t worry, I will get to them! I normally write one fanfic per night and I have six in my inbox currently. They should be up within the next week or so, but no promises. Also, yes, I did use the name Django from Django Unchained. Don’t ask me why.

It was a hot day in New Austin, hotter than it normally was. There were no animals in sight, not even the buzzards. They were all tucked away in cool hiding spots which is exactly what you should have been doing. But no, you thought you could suffer through the heat to bring some food back to your home. 

You’d been staying with a friend named Tawnii. She graciously offered to let you live with her, her husband, and their two kids. They had gone without fresh food for far too long. Their crops had all died, their livestock run dry and even the surrounding towns were sold out of food. A trip to the cooler states would take too long, they’d die from heatstroke. The sun was no joke.

And that’s why you were out here, risking your life out in the burning sun. Somehow in the few hours you’d been out running from shade to shade you managed to find a few snakes and lizards, the only animals that could withstand the heat. You didn’t even bring your horse for fear of her passing out on you. She’d be much happier in the barn at the house. 

When you finally decided to head back you noticed how truly hot it was. You’d been squatting most of the time you were out there and when you finally stood back up it took every ounce of energy you had. The blood rushed to your head and your vision went black. Your knees shook and you fell forward, scratching up your palms and knees on the harsh rocks of the desert. 

“Fuck.” You breathed as you tried to blink away the blackness which was very slowly fading away. You could feel it, you were going to pass out. And if you passed out you’d get severely burned, too long in the exposure of the sun would ruin your skin. You’d get blisters and the blisters would probably lead to infection-

“Stop. Stop.” There was no use thinking like that. It would only make things worse. As if they could get any worse. 

The only other person dumb or desperate enough to be out in that sun was none other than Arthur Morgan. He had business down in Armadillo and was making his way back when he saw you on your knees with your hand on your forehead. His first thought was wondering how stupid someone had to be to be sitting in the sun when it was that hot. The only reasons he hadn’t passed out himself is because he had expensive clothing for the weather and he was well fed and hydrated. Not to mention he had a horse and wasn’t walking around. “You alright there?”

You looked up and blinked a few times, trying to focus on the rider in front of you. The sun was behind his head so you couldn’t see his face. “Uhm, I’m… trying to get home…” You pulled your sack of animals towards you, trying to form the right words but your mouth was just so dry. When you tried to stand back up you passed out for real.

Arthur slid off his horse and quickly made his way over to you. “Jesus, girl. What the hell?” He muttered and picked you up, not forgetting to get your bag. He set you up on the front of his horse and jumped back on, making sure you weren’t going to fall off before he started riding again, this time with a more urgent purpose. 

He had planned on taking you to the doctor, but that was a long ride away. When you made a moaning noise he grabbed his canteen of water and held it in front of your face. “Here, girl. You’ll be alright.” He soothed once he knew you were awake.

You drank that whole bottle, your life depended on it. It felt amazing to have that cool liquid ease the burn in your throat, but it only helped your situation a little You felt extremely nauseated after drinking it since you hadn’t had any water in a while. 

“Where you live?” He asked, his loud voice startling you. 

“Just keep going…” You weakly pointed ahead of you. “Big house on the left. Not too far…”

Arthur grunted in acknowledgment and kicked the side of his horse with his spurs, urging the mount to run faster. 

Your head lolled back and thumped against his chest, along with the rest of your limp body. 

“Hey, easy girl. Need you to stay awake, you hear? What’s your name?” Arthur said in your ear and you managed to give him a weak ‘(Y/N)’. That was good enough for him. “Good girl. We’re almost there. Just hang on, (Y/N).”

By mere luck, you managed to make it back alright. Arthur gave your friend and her family quite the start when he kicked open the front door and laid you down on the nearest surface, which of course happened to be the kitchen table. 

“(Y/N)!” Tawnii gasped and ran over to you, placing her hand on your forehead. “What in the heavens happened to you? You’re so hot!”

“She’s dehydrated. Got anything to cool her down with?” Arthur explained and started taking off your clothes, to the surprise of everyone in the room. He left you in your smallclothes being the decent man he was, although he knew you’d cool down faster if you were completely bare.

Tawnii’s husband came into the room with a bucket of water and a wash rag. Arthur muttered a thank you and started washing your skin with the rag before sitting you up to do the same to your back.

“What?” You muttered in confusion, you had passed out on the way back and came to with a bunch of people standing around your almost naked body and a total stranger washing your back. 

“Good, you’re awake. Drink this.” A cup of water was held in front of your face, Arthur being the one to hold it since he knew you were still too weak to even raise your arms.

You drank as fast as you could and when you finished it you drank another glass. The well water that normally tasted like clay to you was suddenly the most delicious and refreshing water on earth. You drank a few more glasses until you were handed an opened can of sweet corn. 

The smell alone made your mouth water. You hadn’t eaten in two days, leaving the food in the house to the children and your friend. There was no way you could eat the little food they had with a clear conscience. It would be wrong. You became suddenly aware of the presence of Arthur so close to you. Was that the man who had given you a ride back? You took the can from his hands and practically poured the whole thing into your mouth, eating selfishly. 

“Where were you?” Tawnii asked in an angry voice when she realized you were going to be okay.

“I went out hunting.” Speaking of… 

When Arthur saw you looking around he went out to his horse to get your bag. He came back inside and dropped it on the table beside you. “Don’t know what you’ve got in this but I’m guessing it’s food.”

You sighed in relief. “Yes, here. This should feed us for three days, at least.” Tawnii’s husband Django opened the bag and his eyes widened. “Well, it sure will. You got about four snakes and five Gila monsters, the meat on these babies will last us a week if we eat it right.”

“You folks struggling this bad?” Arthur asked from behind you and you swallowed the last bit of corn with sudden embarrassment. 

Tawnii looked away and Django nodded sadly, shaking his head. “Been too damn hot to go outside for more than a few seconds. Don’t know how she managed to make it anywhere.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully and scratched his chin. “Alright. Well, I’ve got more than enough food at my camp not too far from here. If you give me a couple of days I can-”

“Oh, we’d be so grateful.” Tawnii clutched her heart happily and exchanged a happy glance with her husband. The kids looked happy too since for the last week they’d been surviving on canned beans. 

If it wasn’t for the state of everyone in the family you were sure Django’s ego would be bruised at being helped by some stranger. But he didn’t care, you all needed food. 

You, on the other hand, were a bit embarrassed since your whole life you’d been used to taking care of yourself and sometimes others. But this was the one time you failed. You glanced at the stranger who had saved your life and smiled slightly to show your thanks, to which he smiled in return. 

He looked uncomfortable just like you did, mostly because praise made him feel weird. He didn’t like being praised as a ‘good man’ when he knew he was anything but. It made him feel like a walking lie. He was no good man. 

But you and everyone else in the room thought the complete opposite. And when it was finally time that he left you thanked him personally, on your porch.  

He had scolded you when you followed him back outside but you shut him up quickly. “I’ll be fine. I just wanted to say thank you, I surely would have died out there if not for you. And for the help inside, not sure I would have made it even then if you hadn’t cooled me down and explained what happened.”

Arthur nodded and looked out to the fields away from you. “It’s nothing. Not like it was out of my way or anything. I’ll see you in a day or two, alright?”

“Alright.” You smiled at him, still a little embarrassed but more so grateful.  

He walked off the steps of the porch and turned towards you as he walked backwards a few paces. “Stay inside till I get back, you here?”

You nodded with a different smile this time. “Wait, what’s your name?” You called out after him as he mounted his horse.

“Arthur!” He shouted back, riding away on his horse.

“Thank your Arthur!”

[darkwritingsnshit]

It’s Been a While

Chapter 4

Warnings: Bad Writing, angst I think? Dark characters with bad intentions

It turned out, divorce in America was much easier to file for than divorce in Norway. Your brother had almost no one on his legal team, Arne had dismissed almost all of your father’s staff and turned over most of his property to charities or left them alone unkept, so you had little help moving forward in your life. You took up residency in your mother’s old room in the large house, and began to piece what you could together.

You hired back staff first, help in the house and immediate estate, cleaned up and rented out the properties Arne had let fall into disuse. Then came filing for the divorce, which just so happened to be right around the time you were due. You decided to wait, getting Hvitserk to sign divorce papers while you were pregnant wouldn’t work, not if you hadn’t planned on telling him that you went through with the pregnancy.

Part of you loved Hvitserk, you knew that, it probably always would. But Hvitserk had walked out on you in the hospital, when you had been at your most vulnerable in your whole life, even more so than when your parents had died. By then you realized how used you had been. You had been used as a puppet since you were sixteen, by Aslaug, Ivar, Hvitserk too. Once the baby was gone, you were worthless to Hvitserk, that’s how you felt. That’s what he showed you by walking away.

It hadn’t been Hvitserk who had called, it was Ivar first, then Ubbe. You were settling in as much as you could, moving was stressful enough when you didn’t have a doctors’ appointment once or twice a week, and you had work to do besides moving. You knew it was coming though, that you couldn’t just disappear and Hvitserk would be done with you, let you leave, though part of you hoped for it. Still to be safe, you weren’t answering any calls what withheld Call ID, mostly because you were getting a lot of them.

Seven calls you skipped, that read only “No Call ID”, before ‘Boneless’ and a scowling Ivar popped up across your phone’s screen.

“What the fuck are you doing you stupid girl?” Ivar was hissing through his teeth over the phone as you put it to your ear. “You get back here NOW! You’re a Lothbrok, so get back to the estate. I can’t believe Hvitserk is letting you get away with this BULLSHIT!” he roared, and you held the phone away from your ear.

“I didn’t know you had such strong feelings, Boneless,” your voice monotone across the speaker. Ivar usually didn’t bother you anymore, he deemed himself more important than trying to get under your skin, though sometimes he would make a snide comment and smirk as he watched your eyes flash with rage.

“You are disgracing the family,” Ivar spoke evenly, “you don’t realize what you’re doing, do you?”

“I’m not disgracing anyone, Ivar, Hvitserk walked out on me!” You hadn’t spoken the words out loud, and now you yelled them at Boneless, your tormenter. Ivar didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Hvitserk is still in Norway,” Ivar’s voice grew icy, “you are in America. Tell me again, who is it that left?” Ice and fire, that’s how you would describe Boneless, hot and cold and ruthless.

“Leave me alone, Boneless.” You hissed out and hung up the phone. Ivar didn’t call again for a few days.

  Ubbe called next, though the conversation was much different. If you were to talk to any Lothbrok right now, Ubbe was the easiest, most diplomatic of the brothers.

“Hello?” You had been laying down as the doctors had told you, though you hated how often this pregnancy had you sitting or lying instead of keeping busy.

“Hello, how are you feeling?” Ubbe spoke lightly though you could picture his face speaking into the phone.

“I am alright, how are you doing Ubbe?” You waved of Arne, who had been sitting on the couch across from you, his head pricked up at the mention of Ubbe’s name.

“Neither of us are all right I don’t think.” Ubbe wasn’t going to let you lie to him. He sighed slowly, then spoke again, “Why don’t you just come back home? We’ll get you home in under 24 hours, we can forget about this.”

Ever the voice of reason; Ubbe loved making peace, making deals, quieting things down. He reminded you so much of Ragnar.

“I would also like to forget, Ubbe.” You were quiet for a moment. “All I want is to be left alone. And why can’t I?”

Ubbe let out a dry laugh.

“You can’t just fly to Los Angeles and expect your husband not to contact you, what the hell are you thinking?”

“Hvitserk still hasn’t contacted me, Ubbe.” It was true, he hadn’t, Ivar had called the day before, but no Hvitserk yet. It broke your heart every day he didn’t call, but what could you do? You could hear Ubbe groan loudly over the phone.

“Look, he’s not himself. He’s been out getting fucked up every day, or staying closed away in your room, he’s yelling at Ivar saying it’s his fault, he almost held a funeral for the baby. He’s out of his head, you need to come back home, he misses you, he needs you back.”

A funeral for a baby that wasn’t dead, Hvitserk really was out of his head. He sounded like a mess, and you had too many messes at this point.

“I’m sorry Ubbe, but I need some time. There’s a lot going on there, I need some time away. It’s quiet and calm at my brother’s house, and I need a rest. Besides, if Hvitserk is going out, he can’t be missing me that much.” Again, you heard a groan and Ubbe swearing under his breath.  

“Time, how much time?” Even Ubbe could turn cold if you pushed him. He clearly wanted you home as much as Ivar did.

“A few months Ubbe, I’m not sure.” You needed to be in California for six months before you could file for divorce. The timing worked out, as your baby would be born in four months, which would mean Hvitserk would never know that you had continued your pregnancy. You wanted the Lothbroks gone from your life, and you knew you could never be free of them if Hvitserk or his brothers found out.

 Hvitserk called by the end of the week. His voice was scratchy and a little bit slurred, you could picture him chain smoking cigarettes with a bottle in hand, probably standing somewhere he shouldn’t be standing.

“Hey darlin’,” it was a relief to hear his voice, even after everything that happened, though it was a short-lived relief. The happiness faded fast as he kept talking, you could tell he was fucked up.

“I’ve missed you so much, I’ve wanted to call the whole time-”

“Hvitserk are you drunk?” You cut him off, you could tell he was, he always liked to call and apologize or make excuses for something when he was on something or plastered.

“No, no I had a couple drinks but I’m sober enough I swear-”

“Are you high on something else too? Are you?” You were angry, you didn’t want to hear him sniffle and worm his way back into your life, you knew he was too fucked up to know what he was saying.

“Baby, no I- I want you to come home, it’s been too long, and I need you to come home now.” Hvitserk was more adamant now, though his speech was still slurred, and you could hear him sniffing.

“I’ll be back when I’m ready, Hvitserk,” you weren’t going to play his games, he was a wreck that you wanted no part of anymore. He had walked out on you, his behavior the last year had been shady to put it mildly and you were unconvinced he still loved you at all.

“No, we can come get you, you need to come home baby, please-” you hung up the phone on drunk Hvitserk and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

 Aslaug called next; you were surprised she wasn’t more furious. Somehow her edged calm was more unsettling than Ivar’s anger.

“Are you sure that this is the best decision for you?” You didn’t like her tone, it was almost honeyed calm, the same way it had been when she convinced a helpless teenager to marry into her family and steal her assets.

By then you were farther along, it had been two months since you left and settled into your brother’s large home. Two months and you hadn’t heard anything from the brothers or the family.

“What decision are you talking about Aslaug?” You were determined not to let her onto anything that was happening in your life, you knew by now she was a snake.

“I know what you’re planning dear,” Aslaug continued, your hand went to your stomach in fear. “You’re planning on divorcing my son.” She spoke with finality. You were relieved again; you were worried she had found out about your pregnancy.

“What are you talking about Aslaug?” you asked, still not wanting to let her onto your plans to get a divorce the minute time allowed. Her voice took on a darker tone, she was nearly snarling.

“You’re not as smart as you think you are, so don’t start playing games you don’t know how to win, do you understand?” You could picture Aslaug’s angry face taking on a dark look.

“Aslaug, I’m taking a break. This has been so hard on me, and the boys are busy with their business.” You weren’t lying, this was probably the most trying time in your life other than losing your family when you were a teenager.

You weren’t lying about the boys and their business either; the three brothers spent almost all their time in Ivar’s office, or “out”, while you weren’t allowed to ask questions, or if you did you got dead ends. Hvitserk was dodging questions and spent all his time away, empty promises when he came home in the early morning reeking of booze, Ubbe laughing and holding him up in the doorway.

“I would be careful about taking too much time away sweet girl, this is your home, and you will come back to your husband, I promise you that.” Aslaug’s voice was poisonous.

“You can’t bully me into coming home,” you were angry now, this woman had controlled you for years and you were finally free from her grip. “I’m not coming back until I’m ready. I am welcome here as I am in Norway, this was my father’s estate and my family home. I will come back to Norway when I am ready, do you understand?” You flipped her words on her, hoping to get under her skin. She huffed in reply, then ended the call.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Birthday Blues

A Bucky Barnes Drabble

Written for @honey-bee-holly ���s #honeybeehollywritingchallenge. Happy Birthday, Holly! I hope you like it. It’s short and sweet and fluffy.

Prompt: “Well, aren’t you just dark and gloomy today.”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Clint Barton  |  Word Count: 1446 Warnings: A little angst, mostly fluff

You flopped down on the couch in the common room of the Avengers tower with a hefty sigh, slowly falling to the right until your head landed on Clint’s thigh.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, stroking your hair, continuing to watch the Great British Baking Show. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you murmured, grumpy with life and everyone in it except for like three people, Clint being one of them.

“You just fell over like a sleepy panda cub in one of those YouTube videos. Spill.” He poked you in the cheek.

You rolled over, wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his belly. “It’s nothing.”

“Now you’re acting like an octopus. What the hell’s wrong?” Clint asked, concern in his voice.

“Mark broke up with me.”

“What! Why?”

“He’s seeing someone else,” you sighed. “And… everyone forgot my birthday.”

Clint’s hand froze in your hair. “Oh, my god, Y/N! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” you murmured. “No one remembered last year either.”

“SHIT!” he barked. “Two years in a row?”

“I said it’s fine. Not like it matters.”

“Of course it matters!” he huffed and tried to wiggle out from your hold. “Let me up.”

“No. Can’t I just stay here? I’m sad, and I want cuddles,” you pouted. The last few days had been a lead up to a letdown. Why you kept getting your hopes up for something you knew would be a disappointment you didn’t know. Between boyfriends and birthdays, you may as well give up on both.

“Fine, but after cuddles, you’re getting changed, and we’re going out to celebrate your birthday.”

“Whatever,” you sighed. “Naps first.” Clint stroked his fingers through your hair, and you quickly fell asleep.

***

Twenty minutes later Y/N was asleep, and Clint was seething. Angry at himself and the rest of the people who lived in the damn tower, he was rapidly texting with one hand when Bucky stalked through the door with his phone in hand.

“What the hell, Barton?” he growled. “Why am I an asshole?”

Glaring at him over his shoulder, Clint knew Barnes wouldn’t be able to see Y/N wrapped around him like a snake and lifted a finger to his lips. “Everyone in this place is an asshole!” he hissed.

“Well, aren’t you just dark and gloomy today. Who peed in your cornflakes?” Bucky sneered stalking toward the couch. He slowed and frowned when his gaze landed on Y/N snuggled against Clint’s abdomen. “What happened?”

“That idiot she was dating dumped her.”

“Oh?” Bucky arched a brow.

Clint could see the pleasure the idea gave him and flipped him off. “You don’t need to sound so chipper about it.”

“Why are you mad? No one liked the dipshit.”

“Because he dumped her and all of us missed her birthday!” Clint snarled.

Bucky nearly missed the back of the couch when he went to sit on it. “What? That’s not possible.”

“Two years in a row.”

“No! That’s not possible. Friday?” Bucky called to the AI. “When’s Y/N’s birthday?”

“Unknown. The date isn’t listed on any of her documents.”

“How in the hell is that possible?” Clint muttered.

Bucky opened and closed his mouth, then shrugged. “You’ve got me.”

Clint waved him away. “Well, we’ve got to fix this. Barnes, round up the troops. We’re going out tonight, and we’re going to celebrate like we’ve never celebrated before.”

***

You woke an hour later to Clint still stroking your hair. “Hey,” you sighed, finally unwrapping yourself from his waist. Your arms and shoulders had gone numb causing you to shake them to get the pins and needles out.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

You shrugged. “It is what it is.”

He jumped up, the quickness of his action making you jolt. “Nope, not good enough. Go put on a party dress. We’re going dancing.”

“You hate dancing,” you huffed, rolling your eyes.

“But you like dancing. So get dressed. Hair, makeup, all of it. We’re going out, and we’re going to celebrate two years of birthdays and the fact you’ve lost two hundred and ten pounds.”

You sat there blinking at him for a minute before it dawned on you what he was getting at. Your ex-boyfriend weighed about that much. “Cute,” you chuckled. “Alright. I’ll go put something together.”

“Good. I’ll meet you downstairs in thirty.”

“Forty-five.”

“Thirty.”

“Fifty!” you called, feeling a little better.

“That’s not how negotiations work!” he bellowed after you.

***

Dressed, coiffed, and made up, you clicked your way off the elevator in your favourite set of heels while working to close the clutch in your hand. They were never big enough to hold all the things you considered essential for a night out, but packing a bigger bag was no fun when you were clubbing.

When a metal hand reached out and easily clicked it closed, your head whipped up to find Bucky standing before you. “Bucky?” he looked damn good in his dark blue suit. When you looked past him, your realized everyone was waiting. The entire team looked terrific but contrite.

“Sorry for missing your birthday, doll,” Bucky murmured, handing back your clutch.

“We had no idea Friday didn’t have it listed,” Tony said.

“It’s not?” you frowned. “But I put it on all my intake forms.”

“Someone’s about to be fired,” Sam chuckled. “Happy belated, Y/N. How late are we?”

“It was two days ago,” you said, feeling tears burn your eyes. “I thought you all forgot.”

“You should know by now we don’t forget birthdays, Y/N,” Steve said. “We just didn’t know.”

A smile slowly spread over your lips. “That’s okay, Cap. Clearly, there was a glitch somewhere.”

“One that’s now remedied,” Tony assured you.

“Well, let’s get this party on the road!” Natasha said, heading toward an oversized limo.

“We’re taking a limo?” you asked.

“Of course,” Tony scoffed and climbed inside.

Clint came over and kissed your cheek. “Happy birthday, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Clint,” you said, throwing your arms around his neck. “You’re a great friend.”

“Darlin’, I’m the best friend!” he laughed and swung you in a circle.

You didn’t notice the dopey smile on Bucky’s face, but Clint smirked at him.

***

Five drinks in you were nicely buzzed letting Sam spin you around the dance floor. You were loose and soft and what sadness had been hanging around you disappeared in the flashing lights and thudding music. The truth of it was you were more upset by your friends missing your birthday than your boyfriend leaving, having never really been happy with him, to begin with, only going through the motions.

When Sam gave you a spin, and you landed in a new set of arms, you laughed and smiled up at Bucky. He’d lost the jacket at some point, giving you a nice view of how his thick chest stretched his shirt, and how his thighs and ass strained his pants. If you were honest with yourself, it was Bucky you wanted, but the timing had always been off between you.

But now, as you smiled up at him, you knew something had changed.

He pulled you closer, the hard metal of his hand spreading over your upper back when his flesh hand cupped your cheek. “Happy birthday, baby doll,” he murmured right before ducking his head and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your lips.

You tilted your head and deepened it, wanting the taste of him on your tongue. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you swayed together, kissing softly beneath the shifting lights until you both had to come up for air.

“That’s the best present I’ve ever gotten,” you smirked, resting your head against his chest.

“First time I’ve ever gotten a gift on someone else’s birthday,” he chuckled.

You laughed and looked up at him. “Just as long as it’s the gift that keeps on giving.”

“Seeing as I’ve been waiting for you for a long time? Yeah, Y/N. I plan on giving.” He placed a kiss on your cheek. “And giving.” Another on your nose. “And giving for a long, long time.”

The final kiss landed on your lips as the rest of your teammates cheered and catcalled and sang happy birthday.

“Stop sucking face and come cut the cake!” Clint called out.

You flipped him off and kissed Bucky again.

-The End-

[sheweapon]

                                THE WHOLE FUCKING FIRE.

                                            bellatrix hecate lestrange.                                                          thirty four. head of the                                                         department of magical                                                    accidents and catastrophes.                                            + daring, passionate, ambitious, clever.                                             - sadistic, two faced, cruel, unstable.                                                                death eater.

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name: bellatrix hecate lestrange occupation: head of the department of magical accidents and catastrophes. former house: slytherin. date of birth: december 23. age: 34.

BIRTH AND EARLY YEARS:

So. It’s a cold December night, right before Christmas, and the Black mansion is shaken by blood curdling screams. It’s the kind that leaves you breathless, shivers running down your spine, leaving you with the sense that something is very, very wrong. Which, Druella Black fears that it very well might be —- because her (expected) son is four weeks early.

The birth is excruciatingly long and difficult for poor, poor Druella, but when the clock strikes eleven on the night before Christmas, a girl comes crashing into the world. She’s not what they expect, nor what they want, and she never cries — instead, she just watches them with those big black eyes that always seem to be appraising something.

-

Though Bellatrix’s birth was mostly an unwelcome surprise ( she came too early, and it was no secret that her parents had hoped for a boy ), she was also the first child to carry on the Black legacy, which was an honor. A necessity.

As a baby, she was small and meager. Nurses whispered about the Black baby that could barely muster a scream, that seemed so frail. Like she might break at any second. But that memory would soon fade and be replaced by a much more unpleasant one - because Bellatrix’s bones hardened, her skin thickened, her eyes grew meaner. Within a few years, any trace of that soft baby was gone, and instead, a cruel toddler took her place.

As a child, Bella was vicious. Biting, clawing, screaming and cursing were things she picked up fast, and she’d terrorize the other kids at the playground ( with an almost scary aim for her muggle born / half blood peers ).

Once she reached the age of seven, she calmed down a bit, and instead started following her father around ( and was lovingly referred to as his ‘little shadow’ ). Eager to prove herself, she learned everything that a son of Cygnus would have learnt. She was determined to show her father that being a girl would not stop her from becoming worthy of the Black throne, to carry his name with pride. Over the years of her childhood and adolescence, Bellatrix forged herself into the golden girl, a respectable heir in the making. Desperate to wear the crown.

Under her father’s influence, uncontrollable rage was switched in for an eerie quietness, anger instead boiling right below the surface, just waiting to be unleashed. She was so eager to please, to sculpt herself into whatever he wanted, so she suppressed her emotions the best she could, even though it never felt natural. And so, the nurses whispered again, but this time, it was about her sweet, sweet smile, matched with those mean, mean eyes. ‘Doesn’t it look distorted? Like that damn Cheshire cat. Something’s not right about that girl, I’m telling you. She came out wrong’.

Behind closed doors, Cygnus also encouraged Bella’s darker side. Introduced her to the dark arts and the chaos that she would later come to love so desperately.

Most of her childhood was characterized by harsh words, strict rules and high expectations. Her family’s reputation weighed heavy on her shoulders, constantly pressuring her to excel. Luckily, she shared her parents’ ambition and values, and had no problems conforming to their rule. Which also meant that she could get away with much else. As long as she remained the golden girl, Bellatrix could run wild and free.

HOGWARTS YEARS:

Bellatrix had been duly prepped before arriving at Hogwarts. She was the first of their children to walk the halls, so it was important to both Druella and Cygnus that Bellatrix knew how to behave. Who to fraternize with. Who to avoid. Who was worthy of her time. Her parents had also made sure that she already had the appropriate friends — and play dates with other pureblood kids were a common occurrence when Bellatrix was younger.

At school, Bellatrix was popular —- the resident cool girl. The type of girl that hardly ever objects to anything, because she is always down to have a good time. The type of girl that loves Quidditch, dirty jokes and cheap beer. The type of girl that hides her true colors, at least for a while. Until she explodes.

So Bella kept out of trouble, for the most part. There were a couple…. incidents, with muggleborns. One or two may have been turned into rats and toads ( under the guise of it being a joke — can’t you take a joke, come on now? ). More serious things have been strictly forgotten by everyone involved. Powerful parents will do the trick. Mostly though, Bellatrix kept to her fellow Slytherins… biding her time. Waiting to strike.

She played for the Slytherin Quidditch team, as a beater, and was eventually made captain ( nothing less for a child of Cygnus, she must excel ). During her time on the team, she was notorious for her cruel playing style, her foul tricks, the constant smirk on her lips as other players fell to the ground.

And during her sixth year, she was eventually recruited into the Death Eaters. And with them, she found a second home, quickly rising through the ranks.

AFTER HOGWARTS:

After graduating from Hogwarts, Bellatrix took a year off from her studies. The official reason was that she needed to “find herself”. Whatever the fuck that meant. Obviously, it was a lie to hide what she was really up to. In reality, Bellatrix was at Voldemort’s side, learning leglilimency and occlumency, all the while developing her dark magic and her shitty personality.

Quickly became Voldemort’s personal attack dog, always willing to do his bidding, no questions asked.

At the age of nineteen, Bellatrix found work as an obliviator. Though the choice had ultimately been hers to make, the dark lord was always whispering in her ear, encouraging her to infiltrate the ministry. The goal was to have sleeper agents of death eaters in every department once it was time to go to war. It also helped that becoming an oblivator just made sense — fucking with the minds of muggles could already be counted as a hobby (albeit a twisted one), and she had always been good at taking things that didn’t belong to her… Memories would be no different.

Became a senior obliviator at twenty five, which was early, but still not early enough for her, you feel.

And so, at the age of thirty two, Bellatrix came to find herself as the head of the department of magical accidents and catastrophes. There, she got another taste of the power that drives her, that maddens her.

She is genuinely good at her job - even though she’s totally corrupt and obviously does most things in the interest of the death eaters.

Will occasionally throw pureblood galas, but isn’t too invested in them. They’re just for show.

Among the Death Eaters, Bellatrix is in the inner circle. She considers herself the dark lord’s right hand, and prides herself on being his most loyal servant.

Bellatrix also has a pet snake, lovingly named Medusa. We love her.

PERSONALITY:

First of all - Bellatrix is a fucking shit show and we all know this.

She is like night and day —– and her temper switches incredibly quickly, which makes her unpredictable, a little scary. She can go from the girl her family forced her to be - the Socialite, the Sophisticated Woman, the Cool Girl, to something far more sinister in the matter of minutes. Sometimes less.

When she’s at her worst, Bellatrix is cruel, sadistic, self righteous, impulsive, angry as hell, deranged, unstable, manipulative, a little bit unhinged, ruthless, playful, childish and absolutely lethal. It’s always brewing right below, so close to the surface, just waiting to come out.

But she’s also calculating, clever, quick on her feet, intensely passionate, fiercely loyal (until she’s… not), adaptable, intuitive and assertive.

Bella often contradicts herself — she has grown up believing that it’s best to be cold and devoid of emotions (#thanks dad), but she’s a highly emotional person by nature. She tries to suppress that as best as she can, but she usually boils over pretty fast. Other emotions are usually translated into anger as well, so that’s fun. I think the best way to describe her is that she’s just fire, always burning hot or cold.

Voldemort’s influence on her is also really important!! His influence poisons her mind, her soul, her heart. The darkness that was already there is amplified, becomes a thousand times worse. Though already a skilled witch, he introduced her to magic she could only have dreamed of — and that power became corruptive, addictive. For power, Bella would gladly pay the steep price of sacrificing her soul, her humanity.

Bellatrix really does think that she is in the right.

Also probably thinks that she’s better than everyone else at all times. There’s definitively an air of arrogance surrounding her.

Mrs Lestrange thinks that she’s invincible, and likes walking a little too close to the cliff’s edge ( playing with fire ). Will occasionally drop hints that she COULD be a death eater, but never goes too far with it. And if someone suggests that she is one, she acts like that’s absolutely outrageous. How dare you imply that I am affiliated with anything… !

Okay so, I am convinced that Bellatrix doesn’t reach peak evil + instability until after Voldemort’s fall and Azkaban, so I’m really trying to tone her down a bit and give the influence of her upbringing ( + her nature ) a bigger role in the person that she becomes. Hence why she is a little better at hiding her true colors, a little more refined. : ~ ) Though, she’s still the hammer ( doesn’t have the most finesse, mostly just likes getting things done, her technique isn’t exactly intricate, but ALWAYS effective ).

Even if most people probably don’t know that she’s a death eater ( though some probably suspect lbr ), she has a very intimidating presence. That’s her brand. And she still has that Weird Aura about her, like there is something that isn’t quite right, so that could also weird people out.

STYLE / FASHION / APPEARANCE:

Bellatrix has jet black eyes and the hair to match. It falls in soft curls over her shoulders, down her back.

Usually wears dark red lipstick.

She hides her dark mark with a concealment spell while out in public.

Dresses mostly in black. Has to wear clothes that can fit into the muggle world while at work, occasionally, while out and about. While there, she wears a well worn leather jacket ( with shoulder pads, in true 70s style, we love a style icon ), and wide, black pants.

Files her nails into long claws, and paints them black.

Is tall. Likes towering over people.

Her cheekbones could cut a bitch.

AESTHETICS / VIBES:

black dresses, whispered hexes, broken champagne glasses, the calm before the storm, bullets caught between teeth, a constant paradox, skin stained black and blue, a devilish grin, ‘is that wine or blood on your carpet?’, snakes wrapped around wrists, mean eyes, always running hot and cold, a cheshire cat’s smile, soft laughter as the light leaves your eyes, divine violence, a taste of the approaching revolution / the new world order, quiet desperation, family heirlooms, unwavering loyalty, sudden fits of rage, emerald lockets, double lives, ‘would you still like me with my hands around your neck?’, no conscience, silent promises, taunting you with her very last breath, the hardest of hearts, dried blood on expensive clothes and a quiet conviction that this will all make sense in the end.

CHARACTER INFLUENCES:

amy dunne ( gone girl )

jamie moriarty ( elementary )

glory / glorificus ( btvs )

villanelle ( killing eve )

jennifer blake ( teen wolf )

klaus mikaelson ( tvd )

kilgrave ( jessica jones )

lilith ( supernatural )

drusilla ( btvs )

helena ( orphan black )

faith lehane ( btvs )

mazikeen ( lucifer )

FAVORITE CHARACTER TROPES:

SLASHER SMILE - a smile in anticipation of pain or death // a cheshire cat grin.

THE DRAGON - a monster the hero has to get past to get at the big bad. the top enforcer.

TORTURE TECHNICIAN -  takes the heroes and turn them into screaming, shinned shambles.

LADY MACBETH - frequently more crazy than her husband, quite the sociopath, in the business of turning men towards evil.

EVIL WEARS BLACK - duh.

DISSONANT SERENITY - someone smiling gently in the middle of death and carnage, seeming almost enlightened as they slit throats left and right.

THE BERSERKER - throws herself into battle with such reckless abandon, that it seems like she wants to die. never, ever retreats.

THE BARONESS - a female baddie with a chilly disposition and more than a touch of the dominatrix about her.

WICKED CULTURED - evil is intellectual // basically an evil aristocrat.

THE CHESSMASTER - thinking three moves ahead at all times. manipulating, planning, plotting.

DADDY’S LITTLE VILLAIN - shares dark father’s ambitions.

BERSERK BUTTON - always ready to fucking snap.

SOFT SPOKEN SADIST - occasionally. a monster who might describe just how horribly she’s going to mangle you, while speaking in a voice that’s anything but monstrous.

DARK ACTION GIRL - likes beating the hero to a bloody pulp. good at it too.

AMBITION IS EVIL - has grand plans. ends justify the means, always.

[archangelgabriellives]

Blood and Magic

So, I’ve decided that I need to start posting this “I got stuck and missed the Sabriel Big Bang Deadline” fic. It’s killing me to not have it out there for people to read. Plus it’s nice to have support while I’m writing it. So I hope you like it! This thing is so special to me. 

word count: ~1700

warnings: violence, blood, death

Beta’d by the wonderful @warlockwriter <3

Sorry.

Chapter 1

Blood.

Gabriel woke to the smell of blood.

For a moment, he forgot where he was, lost in the coppery perfume filling his nostrils. His mind was thrown back to his days as a pagan, when blood and virtue sacrifices were offered up to him daily. Where he could take his fill and gain a little more trickster power from the offerings at his alter.

Gabriel took in another deep breath of the invigorating scent and listened to the drum beats of his fading dream.

Had he been dreaming? Gabriel can't remember going to sleep. He can't remember anything right now. His last thoughts were of Sam, of falling into bed with him (but certainly not to sleep). But everything is hazy.

The drums flutter. They quicken then dim. They play a song of fear.

The cloud of darkness fades from Gabriel's vision a bit, and he can see the blurry silhouette of his Sam standing tall in front of him. Sam’s leaning back onto the wall, and Gabriel has a hand pressed into the ugly wallpaper of the hotel room, pinning him in place.

Gabriel goes to smile, to make an innuendo laced wisecrack, but he already is. The muscles in his face don't feel right, though. He’s wearing his Trickster smirk, the one he puts on when some asshole gets what’s coming to him.

Why would Sam deserve that smile? Gabriel vaguely thinks.

His vision clears a little more, the echo of the drums reverberating through his mind even though he knows that he is awake now.

Sam's face comes into focus completely, and Gabriel takes in a horrified breath.

Blood is speckled across Sam's beautiful features, gushing out of his nose and the angry looking slashes across his skin. One of his eyes has just about swollen shut and is already an alarming shade of purple. The other is red-rimmed and the tracks that run through the blood on his cheeks tells Gabriel that Sam is crying.

“Holy shit, Sam! What happened?!”

Gabriel moves to reach up to place his fingers on his lover's forehead and heal him. The sudden movement causes Sam to flinch with true fear, swallowing hard and letting out a pathetic whimper. It knocks Gabriel back, hurt that Sam would ever have that kind of reaction to him now, when he needs the healing touch of Gabriel's Grace.

As his hand falls, barely grazing the blood soaked fabric of Sam's flannel, Gabriel's fingers brush against something cold and metallic, and his hands grasp around it.

He can feel the power of the blade as it crackles to life in his hands. His Grace fumbles forward, wanting to take in the power that Gabriel knows is part of him.

This is his Archangel Blade.

And it’s stuck to the hilt in Sam's side.

Sam lets out a pained groan when Gabriel's hand jostles the blade invading him, and at the renewed electrified power that’s coursing through it. The shock of energy makes Sam's eyes roll, his teeth clenched so tight he thought they would crack.

Gabriel pulls his hand back like he had been burned, eyes wide with panic, and hears the beat of the drums pounding even faster.

Oh Father, he thinks. It’s his heart. I can hear his heart!

“Shit!” Gabriel breathes out. “I’m sorry, Sammy. Let me fix it!”

Sam doesn't flinch when Gabriel reaches for him this time, but when Gabriel tries to pull him away from the wall to guide him to the bed, Sam weakly fights him.

“St..stop.” Sams voice is broken, so weak that Gabriel can barely hear it over the noise in his mind. “Please…” he whispers through silent sobs, “I can’t...no more…”

The words fade and the last of Sam's strength is gone. His knees buckle, but Gabriel is right there to catch him, gently laying him on the floor.

“Sam, please! You have to let me help you!” Gabriel yells, his own voice cracking with fear.

Sam slowly opens his eyes, and Gabriel can see the fog lift in them a little. There is a little pang of hope there. He knows that Sam is a fighter, that there’s nothing that can keep his Sammy down.

“...Gabriel?” Sam asks weakly.

“Shut up, idiot.” Gabriel utters. He tries to put on a smile, something comforting for Sam. “I’ve got to heal you, ok? This is bad.”

Sam goes a little paler. “No Gabriel, n-no.”

“I can't do it with this in you though,” Gabriel gestures at the Angel Blade, ignoring Sam. He leans in close to Sam, so close he could kiss him under different circumstances. “I'm so sorry, babe, but this is going to hurt.”

Gabriel lowers his head the last few inches to press his forehead to Sam's as he grabs the Angel Blade tightly in his hand. He presses down harder when he feels Sam's body tense with pain, grips his shoulder when he can feel Sam's large hands gripping the fabric of his own blood-soaked shirt, doing his best to distract Sam with a different ache and sweet words whispered in his ear.

“Stop,” Sam gasps out. “you can't…”

His words die out as the screams pour out of Sam. Each one sears itself into Gabriel's mind as he slowly pulls the blade out from between Sam's ribs.

“Almost…” Gabriel whispers mostly to himself. “There! It’s out Sam.” The blade clatters as Gabriel tosses it across the room. He didn't even want that thing near him or Sam right now. And materializing it back into his body, still coated with Sam's blood on it, the thought made Gabriel want to puke.

Sam's screams faded to panting groans, his body relaxing a bit without the excruciating pain in his side.

Gabriel looked down to see blood pouring out of the wound, the flow pulsing with the beat of Sam's heart still ringing in his mind. He can't waste any time. He can see what little color was left in Sam's skin fade, the color becoming sallow. Sam was gurgling through his breaths and fresh blood had started to leak from his mouth.

“Hang on, baby, I got ya.” Gabriel placed his hands gently on Sam's chest, pulling his Grace forward to heal Sam's wounds.

But nothing happened.

Blood was still slowly draining from where the blade had torn into Sam. His skin was still a sickly pale and the bruises were not fading. Gabriel could feel the broken and cracked bones under the skin were not mending themselves back together.

“Wha…?”

Gabriel pushed harder, causing another hacking groan to escape Sam. The sound snapped Gabriel's wild gaze up to meet Sam's, one of his blood soaked hands reaching up to cradle Sam's battered face.

“What’s happening?”

Gabriel placed his free hand over Sam's heart, closed his eyes in concentration, and tried to heal him again. He followed the path of his Grace as he pulled it up from the depth of himself. Felt it snake up then down his arm. He could feel the warmth forming in the palm of his hand, feel it trying to penetrate into Sam's soul.

But no matter how hard Gabriel pushed it, his Grace would not touch Sam. He dug down deeper and deeper, stretching his Grace further than he had in centuries. He could feel himself getting desperate, his fingernails digging into the soft skin on Sam's chest.

He watched his golden Grace circle Sam as he tried over and over again to heal. Tears started to blur his vision, hopelessness slowly sinking into him like a weight on his chest.  

“Sam…”

The tears flowed freely now, falling as they pleased to drop onto Sam's cheeks. The lump in the back of his throat finally won, and Gabriel let out a quiet sob, collapsing to press wet kisses to Sam's lips as his Grace continued to frantically bounce and tremble around them.

“...why?” he whimpered. “Why can't I…?”

“G-Ga…” Sam's gasping voice was barely a whisper, the blood in his throat making it impossible to speak. His body felt so heavy, but Sam raises an arm and held onto Gabriel, loosely grabbing the fabric of Gabriel's shirt. “Yo- nng... didn't…”

“No, Sam no. Don't talk. Save your strength. I’ll… I’ll call Cas! He can heal you.”

Gabriel closed his eyes and called out to the younger angel. Cas! Help me! Sam needs help! Before an answer came through, Gabriel felt Sam's hand trail down his arm, coming to rest on top of his own, still pressed into Sam's chest. Gabriel's eyes snapped open as Sam gripped with what little strength he had left, swallowing hard and weakly shaking his head.

Gabriel's breath stuttered at Sam's refusal. “What? Why not?!”

Sam's mouth opened and closed, trying to form words, but all he could muster were coughs and whimpers. Gradually, his breath became more and more sluggish, unsteady.

“Sam?” Gabriel called to him.

Sam looked blearily around the room. He could see Gabriel talking to him, but the words were murky, a buzz in the room that made no sense. Look at all these lights, Sam thought as he glanced around the room.

“Sam! Look at me!”

They remind me of Gabriel. Sam smiled, the corners of his mouth barely turning up. A tear  slipped from his eye, trailing a winding path into his dirty hair.

“Sam...please, no…”

Gabriel reached over and tucked a finger under Sam's chin, guided him so Gabriel could look into his eyes. Eyes that reflected his Grace still in the air and very little of his own self.

“Please don't leave me.”

The man lingering over Sam was looking down at him with sad eyes. Beautiful gold that was sullied with tears. Shouldn't cry, he thinks. ‘S wrong.

The man radiates with light. It's so bright Sam wants to look away. But he can't. His body is so heavy that, even if he wanted to move away, he couldn’t. Must be tired, ‘m seeing angels.

Yes, he felt so tired. He should close his eyes and rest, just for a minute.

He just needed to sleep.

“Sam!” Gabriel watches as Sam's eyes close, heavy lids pushing out one last tear. He shakes his shoulders lightly, but those hazel eyes that Gabriel loves so much don't open. The sound of Sam's heartbeat still echoes through his mind, and Gabriel can only crouch helplessly, his lover's body splayed out in beside him, as he listens to the beats fade, falter, and disappear entirely.

~~

I’ve got 4 chapters written of this, and working on the fifth, so I’ll be able to post regularly for a bit with this. Let me know what you think.

You hate me? I know. I’ll eventually make it better. I can’t leave my babes super sad like that.

Sabriel tags

@bloody-destiel-sabriel @little-boyking @howaboutnotcaring @viana-dascolli @thetricksterarchangel @sabbycorgs @amywyn13 @nnegan @ajcza @digi-doubles @midnightstar789

Everything tags

@doctor-zyre @ourloveisforthelovely @authoressskr @superwhoavengelocketc-blog @sumara62 @mscrazycatbitch @emmii4 @redberrysweets @space-time-paradox @tgpanther @anxietywontmakethewordsgo @l4life @acarpouschimerical

[shestranged]

Bellatrix Hecate Lestrange // the devil shudders as she rises ( she’s taking aim for his throne )

She grew up wanting to break things —- toys and hearts and bones and people. Her father indulged her, quietly forming her into the woman that she is today, a weapon, a beast. Someone who finds peace in the destruction, in the chaos, in the violence. People say that she came out a little wrong - something unhinged about her persona already as a child. Those jet black eyes, waiting to devour you. Sharp teeth pulling into a Cheshire cat grin before she could even speak. As she grew older, she became more adept at hiding her… faults, slowly learning how to suppress her anger, her hatred. Instead growing colder, burning less hot ( a ticking time bomb in the making ). But then she met him. And at his side, she became so much worse. As his right hand, she tapped into unimaginable powers, but it all came at an equally unimaginable price. With him, she became less human, more vile. At his side, all she wanted to see was the streets run red with blood.

what up i’m liz, i’m twenty one and i’m here to bring u my favorite villain and chaotic badass, bellatrix lestrange !! this will be a bit long probably bc i could talk about her 5ever. most important parts to read probably are #hogwarts years, #after hogwarts and #personality stuff !!

PINTEREST BOARD: (x)

PLAYLISTS: (x) (x) (x)

BIOGRAPHY: (x)

QUICK STATS:

name: bellatrix hecate lestrange occupation: senior obliviator former house: slytherin date of birth: december 23. age: 32

BIRTH AND EARLY YEARS:

Let’s set the scene --- it’s a cold December night, right before Christmas, and the Black mansion is shaken by blood curdling screams. It’s the kind that leaves you breathless, shivers running down your spine, leaving you with the sense that something is very, very wrong. Which, Druella Black fears that it very well might be ---- because her (expected) son is four weeks early. 

The birth process is excruciatingly long and difficult for poor, poor Druella, but when the clock strikes eleven on the night before Christmas, a girl comes crashing into the world. She’s not what they expect, nor what they want, and she never cries --- instead, she just watches them with those big black eyes that always seem to be appraising something.

-

Though Bellatrix’s birth was mostly an unwelcome surprise ( she came too early, and it was no secret that her parents had hoped for a boy ), she was also the first child to carry on the Black legacy, which was an honor. A necessity.

As a baby, she was small and meager. Nurses whispered about the Black baby that could barely muster a scream, that seemed so frail. Like she might break at any second. But that memory would soon fade and be replaced by a much more unpleasant one - because Bellatrix’s bones hardened, her skin thickened, her eyes grew meaner. Within a few years, any trace of that soft baby was gone, and instead, a cruel toddler took her place.

As a child, Bella was vicious. Biting, clawing, screaming and cursing were things she picked up fast, and she’d terrorize the other kids at the playground ( with an almost scary aim for her muggle born / half blood peers ). 

Once she reached the age of seven, she calmed down a bit, and instead started following her father around ( and was lovingly referred to as his ‘little shadow’ ). Eager to prove herself, she learned everything that a son of Cygnus would have learnt. She was determined to show her father that being a girl would not stop her from becoming worthy of the Black throne, to carry his name with pride. Over the years of her childhood and adolescence, Bellatrix forged herself into the golden girl, a respectable heir in the making. Desperate to wear the crown.

Under her father’s influence, uncontrollable rage was switched in for an eerie quietness, anger instead boiling right below the surface, just waiting to be unleashed. She was so eager to please, to sculpt herself into whatever he wanted, so she suppressed her emotions the best she could, even though it never felt natural. And so, the nurses whispered again, but this time, it was about her sweet, sweet smile, matched with those mean, mean eyes. ‘Doesn’t it look distorted? Like that damn Cheshire cat. Something’s not right about that girl, I’m telling you. She came out wrong’.

Behind closed doors, Cygnus also encouraged Bella’s darker side. Introduced her to the dark arts and the chaos that she would later come to love so desperately.

Most of her childhood was characterized by harsh words, strict rules and high expectations. Her family’s reputation weighed heavy on her shoulders, constantly pressuring her to excel. Luckily, she shared her parents’ ambition and values, and had no problems conforming to their rule. Which also meant that she could get away with much else. As long as she remained the golden girl, Bellatrix could run wild and free.

HOGWARTS YEARS:

Bellatrix had been duly prepped before arriving at Hogwarts. She was the first of their children to walk the halls, so it was important to both Druella and Cygnus that Bellatrix knew how to behave. Who to fraternize with. Who to avoid. Who was worthy of her time. Her parents had also made sure that she already had the appropriate friends — and play dates with other pureblood kids were a common occurrence when Bellatrix was younger.

At school, Bellatrix was popular ---- the resident cool girl. The type of girl that hardly ever objects to anything, because she is always down to have a good time. The type of girl that loves Quidditch, dirty jokes and cheap beer. The type of girl that hides her true colors, at least for a while. Until she explodes.

So Bella kept out of trouble, for the most part. There were a couple.... incidents, with muggleborns. One or two may have been turned into rats and toads ( under the guise of it being a joke --- can’t you take a joke, come on now? ). More serious things have been strictly forgotten by everyone involved. Powerful parents will do the trick. Mostly though, Bellatrix kept to her fellow Slytherins... biding her time. Waiting to strike.

She played for the Slytherin Quidditch team, as a beater, and was eventually made captain ( nothing less for a child of Cygnus, she must excel ). During her time on the team, she was notorious for her cruel playing style, her foul tricks, the constant smirk on her lips as other players fell to the ground. 

And during her sixth year, she was eventually recruited into the Death Eaters. And with them, she found a second home, quickly rising through the ranks. 

AFTER HOGWARTS:

After graduating from Hogwarts, Bellatrix took a year off from her studies. The official reason was that she needed to “find herself”. Whatever the fuck that meant. Obviously, it was a lie to hide what she was really up to. In reality, Bellatrix was at Voldemort’s side, learning leglilimency and occlumency, all the while developing her dark magic and her shitty personality.

Quickly became Voldemort’s personal attack dog, always willing to do his bidding, no questions asked.

At the age of nineteen, Bellatrix found work as an obliviator. Though the choice had ultimately been hers to make, the dark lord was always whispering in her ear, encouraging her to infiltrate the ministry. The goal was to have sleeper agents of death eaters in every department once it was time to go to war. It also helped that becoming an oblivator just made sense — fucking with the minds of muggles could already be counted as a hobby (albeit a twisted one), and she had always been good at taking things that didn’t belong to her… Memories would be no different.

Will occasionally throw pureblood galas, but isn’t too invested in them. They’re just for show, and she couldn’t care less.

Among the Death Eaters, Bellatrix is in the inner circle. She considers herself the dark lord’s right hand, and prides herself on being his most loyal servant.

Bellatrix also has a pet snake, lovingly named Medusa. 

Today, Bellatrix works as a senior obliviator at the ministry of magic. She handles a lot of paper work, but is also out in the field a lot.

PERSONALITY:

First of all - Bellatrix is a fucking shit show and we all know this.

She is like night and day ----- and her temper switches incredibly quickly, which makes her unpredictable, a little scary. She can go from the girl her family forced her to be - the Socialite, the Sophisticated Woman, the Cool Girl, to something far more sinister in the matter of minutes.

When she’s at her worst, Bellatrix is cruel, sadistic, self righteous, impulsive, angry as hell, deranged, unstable, manipulative, a little bit unhinged, ruthless, playful, childish and absolutely lethal. It’s always brewing right below, so close to the surface, just waiting to come out.

But she’s also calculating, clever, quick on her feet, intensely passionate, fiercely loyal (until she’s... not), adaptable, intuitive and assertive. 

Bella often contradicts herself — she has grown up believing that it’s best to be cold and devoid of emotions (#thanks dad), but she’s a highly emotional person by nature. She tries to suppress that as best as she can, but she usually boils over pretty fast. Other emotions are usually translated into anger as well, so that’s fun. I think the best way to describe her is that she’s just fire, always burning hot or cold.

Voldemort’s influence on her is also really important!! His influence poisons her mind, her soul, her heart. The darkness that was already there is amplified, becomes a thousand times worse. Though already a skilled witch, he introduced her to magic she could only have dreamed of --- and that power became corruptive, addictive. For power, Bella would gladly pay the steep price of sacrificing her soul, her humanity.

Bellatrix really does think that she is in the right. 

Also probably thinks that she’s better than everyone else at all times. There’s definitively an air of arrogance surrounding her.

Mrs Lestrange thinks that she’s invincible, and likes walking a little too close to the cliff’s edge ( playing with fire ). Will occasionally drop hints that she COULD be a death eater, but never goes too far with it. And if someone suggests that she is one, she acts like that’s absolutely outrageous. How dare you imply that I am affiliated with anything... !

Okay so, I am convinced that Bellatrix doesn’t reach peak evil + instability until after Voldemort’s fall and Azkaban, so I’m really trying to tone her down a bit and give the influence of her upbringing ( + her nature ) a bigger role in the person that she becomes. Hence why she is a little better at hiding her true colors, a little more refined. : ~ ) Though, she’s still the hammer ( doesn’t have the most finesse, mostly just likes getting things done, her technique isn’t exactly intricate, but ALWAYS effective ).

Even if most people probably don’t know that she’s a death eater ( though some probably suspect lbr ), she has a very intimidating presence. That’s her brand. And she still has that Weird Aura about her, like there is something that isn’t quite right, so that could also weird people out.

STYLE / FASHION / APPEARANCE:

Bellatrix has jet black eyes and the hair to match. It falls in soft curls over her shoulders, down her back. 

Usually wears dark red lipstick.

She hides her dark mark with a concealment spell while out in public.

Dresses mostly in black. Has to wear clothes that can fit into the muggle world while at work ( since she is often out in the field, interacting with muggles ). While there, she wears a well worn leather jacket ( with shoulder pads, in true 70s style ), and wide, black pants.

Files her nails into long claws, and paints them black.

Is tall. Likes towering over people.

AESTHETICS / VIBES:

black dresses, whispered hexes, broken champagne glasses, the calm before the storm, bullets caught between teeth, a constant paradox, skin stained black and blue, a devilish grin, ‘is that wine or blood on your carpet?’, snakes wrapped around wrists, mean eyes, always running hot and cold, a cheshire cat’s smile, soft laughter as the light leaves your eyes, divine violence, a taste of the approaching revolution / the new world order, quiet desperation, family heirlooms, unwavering loyalty, sudden fits of rage, emerald lockets, double lives, ‘would you still like me with my hands around your neck?’, no conscience, silent promises, taunting you with her very last breath, the hardest of hearts, dried blood on expensive clothes and a quiet conviction that this will all make sense in the end.

CHARACTER INFLUENCES:

amy dunne ( gone girl )

katherine pierce ( tvd )

jamie moriarty ( elementary )

glory / glorificus ( btvs )

villanelle ( killing eve )

jennifer blake ( teen wolf )

klaus mikaelson ( tvd )

kilgrave ( jessica jones )

lilith ( supernatural )

drusilla ( btvs ) 

cersei lannister ( got )

helena ( orphan black )

faith lehane ( btvs )

mazikeen ( lucifer )

FAVORITE CHARACTER TROPES:

SLASHER SMILE - a smile in anticipation of pain or death // a cheshire cat grin.

THE DRAGON - a monster the hero has to get past to get at the big bad. the top enforcer.

TORTURE TECHNICIAN -  takes the heroes and turn them into screaming, shinned shambles.

LADY MACBETH - frequently more crazy than her husband, quite the sociopath, in the business of turning men towards evil.

EVIL WEARS BLACK - duh.

DISSONANT SERENITY - someone smiling gently in the middle of death and carnage, seeming almost enlightened as they slit throats left and right.

THE BERSERKER - throws herself into battle with such reckless abandon, that it seems like she wants to die. never, ever retreats.

THE BARONESS - a female baddie with a chilly disposition and more than a touch of the dominatrix about her.

WICKED CULTURED - evil is intellectual // basically an evil aristocrat.

THE CHESSMASTER - thinking three moves ahead at all times. manipulating, planning, plotting.

DADDY’S LITTLE VILLAIN - shares dark father’s ambitions and cruelty.

BERSERK BUTTON - always ready to fucking snap.

SOFT SPOKEN SADIST - occasionally. a monster who might describe just how horribly she’s going to mangle you, while speaking in a voice that’s anything but monstrous.

DARK ACTION GIRL - likes beating the hero to a bloody pulp. good at it too.

AMBITION IS EVIL - has grand plans. ends justify the means, always.

[penmansparadise]

Steve Harrington Imagine Request- I’m Done Pretending

*I DON’T  OWN ANY GIFS POSTED* *CREDITS TO GIF OWNERS*

Here is the imagine requested by @theoperators-trashcan  !  This one took me a while because I really wanted to portray the situation correctly and, obviously, add some fluff lol.  I also went a little crazy with it, so it’s a little long.  But, anyway, here it is and I hope you enjoy it!!  

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader 

Warnings: Mild language and mentions abuse

*If anyone is in an abusive relationship, whether it be spousal or child, please please please get help.  No one deserves to be put in that situation and shouldn’t have to live in fear.  Get the help you need if you are or if you know anybody in this situation.*

Standing in front of the mirror, you frantically applied foundation to the darkening hand print on your cheek.  “Shit, shit, shit.” You whispered to yourself when you noticed it wasn’t working as well as you had planned.  Tears welled in your eyes as you dabbed more makeup on the bruise. The sound of a honking horn reminded you of the time.  You took one more look at your poor makeup job before grabbing your backpack and heading to the door.  Like every other morning, your best friend Steve was sitting in his car waiting for you. At the sight of you, a huge smile grew onto his face.  You sent him a weak one back hoping he wouldn’t notice anything.  “It took you long enough.”  Steve said sarcastically when you got into the passenger side.  You let out a light chuckle, “It takes time to look this good.”  As Steve pulled out of your driveway, he sent you a small smile.  “Don’t kid yourself Y/N,” he began giving your shoulder a light shove, “you always look that good.”  You and Steve had known each other since you were babies.  Both of your parents went to Hawkins High together and were best friends since their freshman year.  Things didn’t change when they graduated and decided to make a family and establish their lives in Hawkins.  Growing up, the two of you were all each of you had.  You spent almost every waking moment together and soon became best friends. Your friendship only grew as the two of you aged.  Steve was always there for you and you for him.  

Steve pulled into a parking spot near the entrance to the school before killing the engine.  You took in a deep breath as you searched the schoolyard.  Your stomach fell when you spotted the person you were hoping to avoid. Your boyfriend, Ryan Coleman. Suddenly you were very aware of the covered-up bruise on your cheek.  The bruise that he had left there.  Tears began to make their way back to your eyes, but you squeezed them away before Steve could see.  “Well,” you said quickly grabbing your bag, “I guess I’ll see you around.”  You were shutting the car door before Steve could even reply.  As you made your way to the school entrance, you could feel your heart racing in your chest. Although you tried your best to walk past Ryan without being seen, he spotted you.  “Where do you think you’re going?” He growled low in your ear as he tightly grabbed your wrist.  You swallowed as you slowly turned to face him.  A stern look sat on his face as he stared down at you.  “Did you just try to walk by me without saying anything?  That’s not what good girlfriends do now is it?” He asked still gripping your wrist. You could feel another bruise forming under his hand.  “Uh,” you stuttered, “N-no, it’s not.”  Ryan gripped a little harder causing you to flinch a little.  “Exactly.  So, don’t try that shit again.  Understand me?” He said quiet enough for you to hear and no one else.  You bit your bottom lip and nodded unable to create a coherent sentence.  His grip tightened even more causing your eyes to tear up again.  “I couldn’t hear you.” He said sternly.  You took in a shallow breath, “I understand.”  Ryan let go of your arm, “We also need to talk about last night so meet me at lunch.”  Your heart began to beat quickly at the mention of the night before.  “Okay.” Was all you said before Ryan sauntered back off towards his friends.  You stood where he left you for another moment before showing yourself to class.

You went through your first four periods like a robot on autopilot.  Your body was in class, but your mind was scrambling with the thought of what Ryan had in store for you.  The two of you started dating your sophomore year of high school.  He was new and really cute and immediately took an interest in you.  You started talking and before you knew it he had officially asked you out.  Your relationship was perfect in the beginning complete with cute late-night phone calls and romantic dates.  However, about three months into your relationship things began to change.  His once loving hands changed to angry abusive ones.  The love bites his mouth used to leave all over your body turned into nasty bruises left behind by his closed fists.  The sweet nothings he used to whisper into your ears turned into crude slurs that would wreak havoc on your psyche.  Buying makeup became a weekly occurrence as did crying yourself to sleep.  You were raised better than to stay in an abusive relationship; but, with every superficial apology, you were dragged back under his spell. When the lunch bell finally chimed, you began your slow trek to Ryan’s usual spot.  As you walked into the lunch room, you were stopped by a soft touch on your forearm.  You flinched and quickly turned to face whoever touched you.  “Woah,” Steve began putting his hands up in defense, “stand down, it’s just me.”  You let out a heavy sigh of relief, “I’m so sorry Steve.”  He gave you a concerned look, “Are you alright? I saw you this morning with Ryan and you looked a little upset.  I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”  A warm feeling of appreciation that filled your heart quickly turned frigid when, over Steve’s shoulder, you saw Ryan glaring at you.  “I, uh, I have to go Steve.”  You said brushing past him.  “Hey!” He shouted causing you to turn back towards him.  He walked over and snaked his arm around your shoulders, “Ryan can wait.  Come eat with me, like old times.”  Steve led you towards his table and away from Ryan.  As you walked away, you looked over your shoulder to see Ryan angrily glaring at your fleeting figure.  

You sat motionless in your seat as the final school bell rang.  Although you hated to admit it, you were scared to leave. You didn’t know how Ryan would act or what he would say about what happened at lunch.  A tall shadow casting down on you pulled you from your thoughts. “Miss Y/L/N?  Is everything alright?”  Mr. Ford asked placing a soft hand on your shoulder.  You gave a weak smile and a small nod before grabbing your bag and exiting the classroom.  The halls were mostly empty as you made your way to the parking lot.  When you pushed the main door open you were secretly hoping Ryan would be gone.  However, as you walked out, he was the first person you saw.  Your heart skipped in your chest as he stalked towards you.  “Ryan…” You began in a pleading tone before he grabbed you by the arm and dragged you to the small passageway between the buildings. “Ryan, please just let me explain.” You begged as he threw your small body against the brick building.  “I don’t want to hear shit from you.”  He said through gritted teeth.  His large hands grabbed you by your shoulders and slammed you against the wall again. A pang of pain shot through your body as your head hit the wall.  “Do you think you can just ignore me?  Like I don’t even exist?  I told you we needed to talk about what happened last night.  I wanted to apologize for what I did and what I said, but you didn’t want to listen to me.”  He growled lowly into your ear.  Tears began to pool in your eyes as his voice got louder.  “Why are you so damn stupid!?”  He shouted out making you flinch.  His eyes finally met your watering ones and he let out an irritated sigh. “Don’t be a fucking bitch and cry. You know I only do this because I care about you and our relationship.  If you would just listen and stop disobeying me I wouldn’t have to do this shit.  I really don’t like to do this, you know?”  He said loosening his grip on your shoulders.  Although you tried your best to prevent it, tears began spilling over onto your cheeks. Ryan let out a calm breath and removed his hands from your shoulders.  “I love you Y/N.”  He said softly.  Unable to respond because of your sobs, you simply nodded.  Your vision was blurred, but you could see Ryan give you one last look before walking away.  When you were sure you were the only one there, you slid to the ground allowing your sobs to take over your body.  You sat on the ground and let yourself cry before gathering enough strength to walk yourself home.  When you reached your house, you went straight to your room.  Weak and tired from crying, you got into your bed and shut your eyes.  Fleeting images of your breaking relationship flickered behind your eyelids.  You felt your heart pull when a small image of Steve came into your head.  Your best friend who didn’t even know you were living in your own personal hell. You tried to push him away, but the harder you pushed the more you thought about him.  Soon, you were pulled into a deep slumber with Steve’s smile being the last thing on your mind.

The next morning you were awoken by a couple of light shoves.  Your eyes slowly peeled open to see a concerned Steve looking down at you.  You jumped up, “Holy shit Steve!  What are you doing here?”  Steve took it upon himself to sat on the bed next to you, “Y/N, I need to talk to you about something.  Well, really, I want to ask you something and it is imperative that you are honest with me.” You raised your eyebrows at him, “You need to ask me something at 5:30 in the morning?  It couldn’t have waited until we got to school?”  Steve let out a light chuckle, “No it couldn’t have.” You shrugged him off and motioned for him to talk.  He took a deep breath in and held it for a moment before quickly letting it out.  “Okay, Y/N you know that I deeply care for you right?” He asked to which you nodded in response.  “Okay,” he began, “and you know that you can talk to me about absolutely anything, right?” You nodded again unsure where he was heading.  Steve looked you in the eye, “Then I want you to tell me if Ryan is being good to you.” Your heart began to race at the demand, but you stayed silent.  Steve placed his hand on your knee, “Has he ever hit you?”  You opened your mouth, but couldn’t speak.  Steve gave you a sympathetic look, “Please, Y/N, you can tell me.”  You took in a shaky breath, “No, he hasn’t ever hit me.  He’s always good to me.”  Steve shut his eyes in frustration and ran his hand through his hair.  “Dammit Y/N, I need you to be honest with me.”  He said a little irritated.  “I’m not lying.” You said unconvincingly.  Steve rubbed both hands over his face before standing up and looking at you.  “I know you’re lying because I watched him slam you against the gym wall yesterday after school.”  Steve blurted out.  Your mouth fell agape at the truth finally coming out.  “How did you…what were you…I didn’t see you.”  You stuttered out.  Steve was pacing back and forth in front of your bed.  “Well when you weren’t waiting for me at my car I went to go look for you. I was just walking by the passageway when I heard Ryan and then I saw.”  Steve admitted as he stopped pacing and sat back down.  You could feel tears beginning to slide down your cheeks before Steve pulled you into a hug.  You let yourself finally breakdown in the comfort of his embrace.  His hand rubbed your back as he shushed you.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  You know I would have helped you.”  He said holding your shaking body.  You pulled back enough to wipe your eyes, “I don’t know.  I thought it would stop and things would go back to the way they were before.  I didn’t want him to get angry.  I don’t know Steve, but I can’t do it anymore.”  Steve wiped a stray tear from your cheek and let his hand linger on the side of your face, “I won’t let him hurt you anymore Y/N.  He’s not going to lay another hand on you ever again. Okay?”  You stared into his soft brown eyes and nodded.  You had always been a little attracted to Steve, but pushed those feelings aside to spare your friendship.  However, it was hard to ignore the way your heart fluttered at his touch.  His hand cupped the side of your face for another moment before pulling it away.  “I’ll wait for you in the car.  Go ahead and get ready.”  He said standing up from your bed and exiting your room.  

The car ride to school was quiet except the hum of the engine and the sound of Bon Jovi singing “Always” on the radio.  When Steve finally pulled into a parking spot, he kept the car running and turned to you.  “Are you ready?”  He asked calmly.  You looked out the window and saw Ryan standing in his usual spot waiting for your arrival.  A knot formed in your stomach as you turned to face Steve.  “Can we just stay in here till the bell rings?”  You asked trying to hide the fright in your voice.  Steve took your hand in his and gave a light squeeze untying the knot in your stomach and replacing it with butterflies.  “We can do whatever you want.  I’m here for you Y/N.  Ryan isn’t getting within ten feet of you without me being right there next to you.  I already said, he isn’t going to hurt you anymore.”  Steve said with a small smile before turning up the radio and singing along. You bit your lip trying to contain the grin that was threatening to spread across your lips as you listened.  The song finished right when the bell rang. Steve shut off his car and walked you to class making sure you were safely in your seat before walking away.

When lunch rolled around, Steve waited outside your class until you walked out. You let out a giggle, “Steve you don’t have to walk me everywhere.”  Steve placed his hand on the small of your back leading you towards the courtyard, “Yes I actually do Y/N.”  You laughed at his persistence sending a smile to his lips.  “I missed that sound.”  He said as he held the door open for you.  You cocked your head to the side, “What sound?”  He sent you another smile, “Your laugh.”  Your heart danced in your chest and a blush claimed residence on your cheeks as he led you to his lunch spot.  You sat down before Steve took a seat in front of you allowing you to really take him in.  Everything about him felt like home.  His gentle and caring eyes, the way his lips curved up when he talked, the delicate angles of his jaw, the natural wave in his hair, his sweet boyish scent, and his deep voice.  You were so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t even see Ryan approaching your table. “Oh no.”  You whispered, the smile once occupying your face falling.  Steve gave you a confused look, but before he could question you Ryan spoke.  “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”  He said walking up to the table.  Steve stood up blocking you from Ryan, “Get away from her Ryan.  She doesn’t want to talk to you.”  Ryan let out a laugh, “You’re real funny Harrington.  You see, Y/N just so happens to be my girlfriend so I can do whatever the fuck I want.”  Steve took a step closer to Ryan and said in a serious tone, “No, Ryan, you can’t.” Ryan closed the gap between him and Steve, “What?  Are you going to stop me Harrington?”  Steve narrowed his eyes at Ryan, “Yeah I will.”  Ryan let out a low growl, “I’d like to see you try.”  You, and everyone around you, watched in awe as Steve sent his fist flying into Ryan’s nose knocking him down.  “I told you,” Steve began hovering over Ryan, “leave her alone.” As Steve turned to walk away, Ryan stood up wiping the blood from his face.  He let out a chuckle, “That was really cute Harrington.  Trying to be the knight in shining armor?  Coming in to save the day?  Well news flash big guy, no one fucks with me or my things!  And, it just so happens that Y/N is mine and I really don’t appreciate you butting in trying to fuck things up.  So, as you probably already assumed, you’re going to have to pay.”  Steve opened his mouth to retort, but didn’t get the chance.  Ryan’s fist cracked against his jaw knocking him to the ground where Ryan mounted him letting his punches land anywhere on Steve’s face.  The crowds of people around you began to scream. Some were shouts of horror and others were cries of instigation.  You sat frozen in place as Steve’s blood began to smear across his face.  Ryan’s angry voice roared above everyone else’s. “Why are you so damn stupid Harrington? I really don’t like doing this shit. If you would have just listened man I wouldn’t have to be doing this.”  He shouted with each punch.  Anger pooled inside of you as you replayed every time Ryan had said those exact words to you while he was leaving bloody bruises on your body.  You stood up and, without thinking about what could happen, ripped Ryan off of Steve.  “Lay one more hand on him and you’ll regret it.”  You said sternly.  Ryan chuckled as he wiped Steve’s blood from his knuckles, “What are you gonna do? You think you’re gonna stand up for yourself now that your body guard got the shit beaten out of him?”  You lifted your head up with confidence, “No, I’m standing up for myself after months of getting the shit beaten out of me by you.  You’re a piece of shit Ryan and you don’t deserve me.  You’re abusive and manipulative and I can’t believe that I had to see my best friend bleeding on the ground to finally come to my senses. Steve has treated me ten times better within a couple of hours than you have treated me in months.  I shouldn’t have to be afraid that you’re going to hurt me every time I’m with you.  So, I’m done living in fear Ryan.  We’re over. You can go fuck yourself.”  Ryan began walking towards you causing you to move away with each step he took.  “You can’t tell me when we’re over.  I decide that.  Just because you’re having a lapse of judgement doesn’t mean we’re breaking up. So, how about you shut your pretty little mouth and sit down.”  Ryan said moving closer towards you.  You stopped moving and, when he got close enough, kneed him in the groin sending him to the ground.  You stood over him and hovered one of your feet over his junk, “I’m my own person Ryan and you don’t own me.  Not anymore. Now, I’ll say it one more time, we’re through.  You’re going to leave Steve and me alone and if you come near either of us again I’ll make sure your grand-children feel how hard I can kick.  Understand me?”  Wincing in pain, Ryan nodded his head.  You lowered your foot over his junk and growled, “I couldn’t hear you.”  Ryan squeezed his eyes shut and, in a high-pitched voice, said, “I understand.”  You stepped back and gave Ryan one more scowl before quickly moving to Steve.  His eyes opened and closed as he squinted to try and focus your image.  “Y/N?” He asked groggily.  You rubbed your hand over his forehead and shushed him, “Shh, it’s me.”  He let out a cough and a little blood sputtered from his mouth, “Did I win?”  You let out a sympathetic giggle, “You put up a good fight and I finished it.”  Steve closed his eyes and nodded in response, “Can you help me up?”  You smiled, “Yeah, but I’m driving.”  Steve gave a low grunt as you helped pull him off the ground and guided him to his car.

Steve sat limply on the desk chair in his room as you gathered a washcloth and ice pack.  When you returned you placed the items on his desk and looked at his defeated figure.  “Hey,” you said using your forefinger to pull his chin up, “thank you for what you did back there.”  Steve gave you a shrug, “I told you I wasn’t going to let him hurt you anymore.  If that meant getting my ass beat for you then so be it.”  You smiled down at him before grabbing the wet washcloth and cleaning his face.  “I didn’t know anyone cared enough about me to willing get their ass be for me.”  You said handing him the ice pack.  Steve took a quick breath in through gritted teeth as he placed the ice pack on his face, “Y/N I’ve always cared that much for you. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, ever.”  Heat crawled up your neck and onto your cheeks as you held his gaze.  Standing in between his slightly open legs made your heart beat faster.  “Steve.” You began in a soft whisper, but stopped short.  He removed the ice pack from his face and placed it on his bed before gently laying his hand on your hip.  Your eyes never left his chocolate brown orbs as your hand softly glided over the curvature of his jaw until it was cupping his face.  Steve’s other hand found your other hip and lightly pulled you closer to him. “Y/N, for the past six months I’ve watched you pretend to be happy with another guy and you’ve watched me pretend to be okay with it.  We both know we’ve been pretending to be ‘just friends’ for years.  Well, I’m done pretending if you are.”  Steve said in a quiet voice.  You stared down at his bruised face and could feel your heart already starting to heal.  All the feelings you had kept hidden to protect yourself and friendship began to surface.  A sigh of relief fell from your lips, “I’m done pretending.”  Steve smiled before he slowly pulled you in for a soft and passionate kiss.  His hand traveled to the back of your head and pulled you even closer to him deepening the kiss.  Your lips moved slowly against his as you began to smile into him.  When he finally pulled back, a wide grin was set on your lips. He planted a sweet kiss on your forehead, “I love you Y/N.”  Without letting the smile fall from your face, you said, “I love you too Steve.” Before bending down and planting another heartfelt kiss onto his lips.  

[cattythoughts-blog]

Game of Thrones: The Alternate Ending

Intro of Dissatisfaction

           Okay, so I’ve never been much of a revisionist when it comes to story-telling. Whatever ending I got, I could have mixed feelings about with no sway one way or the other to impact my overall enjoyment of a story. When stories go completely off the rails from what they once were (first 3 seasons of Supernatural vs everything after, Penny Dreadful season 3, Hannibal) I can still enjoy the show and, in the end, hold whatever first few good seasons I did have close to my heart.

           And, I think the reason for this is that all all those shows had an “ending” before their true season ending. That ending paid off everything and was consistent with theme and tone first presented. Which brings up the question: What do you do when you have a story as big as Game of Thrones, a grand-scale epic by design? There can’t be a satisfying conclusion mid-way through the Game of Thrones show, where everything comes together because there’s too much going on. Too many loose strings. Too many factions. Stannis Baratheon’s death after burning his daughter could have been that great end-point of the show (the Baratheons known for gaining power by drawing the blood of their relatives finally take infighting to the deepest, darkest conclusion and are left with ashes) if we’d only been following Stannis, the Battle of the Bastards for the stark plot (to resolve the imbalance of rule of the north. The show starting with Ned and his family losing power and this culminating in the ultimate regain of that power through virtuous means but also new compromise and understanding of the “Great Game” on Sansa’s part), go all the way back to the Red Wedding and that could be that satisfying cut-off point if we only cared about the Starks.

           Instead, there’s a show pushing a bolder of its own plot threats up a mountain, slowly dwindling in stakes and tension as the plot armor becomes too strong to kill of anyone important. That’s kind of a problem. The show has lost what made it, and the books, so great in the first place. Understand that I’m mostly talking about the show Game of Thrones, not the book series—but, this is actually a problem I have with both if George RR Martin and the writers are shooting in the same direction. If the TV show was without a doubt Full Metal Alchemisting these final seasons, I would probably not feel the need to write this. I’d just wait for the books and get my sweet, sweet, Brotherhood fix with George’s conclusion—but what if George’s conclusion is the show’s conclusion? If the end-goals set up in the show are the ones I’m to expect in the books then all I can say is—George…my man…my buddy…my better Santa…dafq?

The Core of Game of Thrones:

           Here’s what I mean:

           The main selling point of George RR Martin’s books is not realism—stop that, please. When people say “realism”, they’re talking about the feeling of stakes and motivation that copy realism. In realism, a lot more people would have died from drinking the bacteria in foreign fresh water and syphilis by now. George RR Martin doesn’t kill people without purpose. They have a thematic or plot-related edge to them that makes every death make sense in the grand scheme of things.

           The main selling point of Georg RR Martin’s books is the subversion of expectation, actively taking tropes and turning them on their heads, and the consequences of actions. Every character is out to get something and if you don’t know what they want or how to make them think you can get it for them, you’ve lost. Here’s the problem of the show since season 5, more prominent in 6, and overt in 7, there are no consequences. All that cold-calculated conversation where you were trying to figure out what someone really wanted in the end-game is gone. All those terrible decisions made by Danny don’t backfire and have an overall consequence on how she’s viewed as a leader. Cersei—well the Margery-taking-over-thing was pretty good and the religion backfiring—but no consequence for blowing up the church when (especially in the books) it is explicitly stated that any ruler who ever did that was turned on by the people? The Iron Born suddenly decide to go and team up with Danny and give up their old ways in a snap because we need clear dividing lines on who is good and who is evil to wrap up this thing. Arya gets away with “tricking” the many faced men—the ultimate deception crew? No!

           But, here’s the thing that frustrates me the most about all of this, up until Season 7, I could live with it. Fine. The overall story still had some promise to it. We have the “prince that was promised” thread, Tyrion “using” Danny to get revenge on his family or just see what happens (though in the show they kind of just make him love her and have no motive). Jon essentially usurping Sansa’s birthright to be lady of Winterfell and keeping Little Finger around while also having not told him about the vale, and then the whole Arya killing spree she was finally going to go on, Cersie dealing with a city/country that had to hate her after blowing up the church, the white walkers still had potential to be twisted as some kind of “no yeah, we’re sapient, and it’s cold and we just wanna go south, shut up” type-thing. Pieces were in place to be played with and set in order that was unexpected—an order with consequence.

Why Season 7 Fails:

           What did I get in season 7?

           In a nutshell: sister’s fighting over nothing from 5+ years ago—Danny and Jon, the 5$ love story. Cersei sitting in her chair with a fresh set of crazy pants and Jamie being angry, but not enough to do anything about it. And last—OH NO—That one! That dragon! I’m not sure which one but oh no…oh no…that one’s dead. Bummer. Wall down. Scene.

           So…what was the consequences of this season? What were the biggest changes? The wall came down because the walkers had a dragon. Everything else was putzing around until that point. I’m not even joking. Little Finger’s death means nothing because he’s an inactive player in the story at that point. Danny’s getting evil—except—she’s always been evil (well, like, shes no more ruthless than she had been before). She crucified an entire city, so burning two guys alive is not out of character for her and changes nothing about the propoganda. Jon being declared the prince that was promised means nothing because that prophecy is vague. Bran’s omnipotent and missed the part where his aunt whispered the baby’s legal name because…reasons. Oh, oh, and the sand snakes finally died. Cheers to that.

Petty Child Explaining the Petty Rant

           Now, here’s why I’m so mad. Because they have set up for—maybe not a great ending—but a good one that stays true to the tone of the books. Yes, this is the part where I say I can do better—and I really REALLY wish I couldn’t. The fact that I want every action to have a consequence, should not be something I have to insert to a story.

           The following is “fixing” Season 7 of Game of Thrones, working with the plot threads set up at the beginning. I’m not going all the way back to 6 or 5 because that’s too much work, and I’m honestly just doing this for my own piece of mind. You can tell me this version of season 7 sucks. Hey, you’ve got the real TV version written by people with more talent and success than I’ll ever see. I’m some idiot with a keyboard and some ranting issues. Also, I’m more editing things that already exist like “working off the same budget” not adding new things, just going with what they gave me.

______________

           So, the best way to fix this is to go narrative thread by thread, so let’s start with the 2nd worst one first. Danny. Oh…Danny, Danny, Danny. So much set up. No payoff. Loved you this season, girl. In the original Season 7, nothing changes with her character besides her becoming the ultimate Mary Sue with everyone falling in love with her left and right and her never dying on her dragons. Nothing she does or says or what people do or say to her this season have consequence unless it leads to getting into her nephew, Jon’s, pants (is anyone else not creeped out that there are literally no degrees of separation there. Her brother was his father. He’s sleeping with is aunt…no? And she’s totally going to get pregnant with an incest baby next season because they made a really huge point of saying she couldn’t have kids (and that’s mostly a man’s fault if you can’t have kids—like biologically speaking). Okay, it was a thing when the Lannisters were doing it but sure).

DANNY CHANGE:

           To explain how to fix Danny is to explain her overall relevance to the plot—the plot of Game of Thrones. Her mechanical purpose was two main things. 1. Bring dragons to the army that dies of getting burned so that they can be defeated by getting burned, but also so that they have a dragon to break down the wall and make plot happen. 2. Be the inspirational invader that provides pressure for the native forces to band together and fight on two fronts (north and south) while bringing in these foreign fighters.

           Danny is not meant to sit on the iron throne. Mechanically, she has been foreshadowed to be a great conqueror and a terrible, terrible ruler. In the books, it is better portrayed that she’s a little girl who can draw in inspiration, but has no clue what she’s doing when we get down to brass tax. In the show, she’s like mid-20s, so it doesn’t come off the same way. But, that’s the core of her. A girl who does not want to become the monster of her past, but believes that her lineage—not her actions—makes her deserving—not earning—of the Iron Throne. She wants to rule over this country because it exists and someone told her it was hers. Danny is a villain so letting the invasion play out is fine, but the two major threads need to be addressed. 1. Dragons are in Westeros (check), but now they need to go north. 2. Danny is leading inspiration and causing terror (check if you do the first 3 episodes of her plot the same).

           There’s two main themes for Danny this season that culminate into nothing. She’ll ask for advice and listen to no one after they’ve given that advice “Be a dragon.” That should make Tyrion more frustrated with her and put a strain on their relationship because Westeros is Tyrion’s home, and he’s trying to put a ruler on it that he can’t mold to his views so easily. She’s an impulsive child. That’s what you should get out of all those close calls where she takes her dragon and nearly gets killed. The other theme is succession. After Danny is gone, what will happen? Danny doesn’t want to think about that, but she’s this inspirational ruler that brought armies across the sea for her. What do they have to fight for if Danny is dead? This isn’t their home. They won’t care after she’s gone. That’s why the children thing kept being brought up, and it’s never acted upon. So, here’s Danny’s conclusion for Season 7.

           That stupid plot with the guys going across the wall to kidnap a walker happens, they’re on that lakebed… sure. Tweak it. As Danny swoops in to save them she is yet again not listening to advice and endangering herself. Danny drops with Drogo to go pick up the SQUAD and it’s too hot. She gets on a dragon, commands one to pick up the boys while she goes straight for the white walker kings (as the boys could have pointed out to her that you kill the boss, the adds die). And then, that Olympic-gold-winning javelin throw goes straight into Drogo (the only dragon you can actually tell apart) with Danny riding on his back. They both plummet to the ground behind a mountain or something (not in the lake because where’d the wights get chains?) out of sight and the SQUAD has to take the walker and run because one of the least favorite children dragons takes them away already. Jon can even have his stupid staying behind moment if he was trying to get Danny if they really needed that scene (he’d have a reason to stay in the middle of the army of wights fighting one or two because he’s just as impulsive and brash). I’d prefer everyone just left on least-favorite-dragon #1 or #2 and they flew back over the wall.

           Then, by the end of the season, the white walkers now have the ice dragon they wanted. Not just any dragon. The only dragon the audience could name/care about: Drogo. (maybe Danny’s in there too as a wight, or a wight king if we wanna apply the rule of cool—like this would be kind of dumb but I’d want to see it. It’s probably more poetic for her to fall off the dragon and one of her least favorite children to pull her corpse out of the snow and fly her home).

What does this change/do?

           Danny’s arc is a woman who doesn’t want to be an evil ruler but is not willing to learn or be flexible. Her inflexibility and inability to understand her limits because of years of have the ultimate advantage of dragons is what causes her death, ending that thread. Two, now what are Danny’s forces doing in Esos? Tyrion still has this army to deal with and they have no leader, no inspiration. That burning fire that has been carrying them is snuffed out and an entire group of people who’d hoped to find a great ruler (Tyrion’s hope) is dead. As for Danny, she did not want to become a mad king like her father, she did not want to kill hundreds of thousands, but due to her inflexibility, her ultimate drive for power, her defiance of death shown many times throughout the series—she has failed to reach her ultimate potential (and if we go with the white walker thing, she defies death for the final time becoming the ultimate conqueror of death and the destined ultimate conqueror of the nation she set out to rule, but not how she would have wanted. (but this one I’m ehh on because I got a better plan)) She’s fallen to tragedy because of her lack of familiarity with the country she was going to reign over. (also something else pays off from this in like 10 paragraphs, I’m sorry).

____________

           Chopping block goes to Cersei next…also not that long. Mostly because it’s not hard to make it interesting.

CERSEI FIXING WHAT’S BROKE

           Cersei’s character is fine. It’s not great, it’s not the best with the magic plot lack of logic, but it’s fine. Have her do the thing with the iron bank and take Highgarden…Highgarden—the wealthiest country—being overthrown because…rich people don’t have the biggest armies to protect their loot? Oh my god, Highgarden. The way the show presented it, I could run in there with a toothpick and win.

           Anyway, sure. But, the people hate her because she blew up their religion. (I know the show plays it off that the people think it’s an accident but…come on). Consequences is that she now has lack of support from the people while this foreign invader tears up her home. She needs aid. So…she’ll call upon the north, upon Winterfell because there’s a new Boss up there who may be wiling to work with her. She hears they’re in need of military aid. Why wouldn’t she band together as many men as she could from all corners of her country to kill Danny?

           When she summons Jon, he’s already south yucking it up with Danny so Sansa has to deal with that.

What does this change?

            Things remain basically the same, but Cersei has to be willing to drag in new allies like she did with the Iron Born. The Lannisters have always been a flexible group. With the North having a new power player, why wouldn’t she reach out to them? Also, she should be shown protecting the people to keep them happy. It has never been a more crucial time to get rid of the problem that is Danny. Danny is making the people unhappy as Cersei’s reign is starting with the terror of invasion. People already hate Cersei. The longer Danny’s around, the more they’ll hate her. Now, she has motivation beside territory claims to hate Danny. Motivation is clear, it’s present, and it relies on public opinion—something the Lannisters are slaves to. The lions do consider the opinions of the sheep.

_____________________________

That Meeting at the End Tho:

           Okay, that last episode was everyone bitching until nothing got accomplished or changed. Here’s how you change/fix it. Danny wasn’t invited. Cersei organized the meet-up, inviting Jon along with other lords she’s going to try to win over. Jon happens to be doing exactly what he’d been doing throughout the entire season with the walker expedition (there’s honestly just no good way to fix this, unless they break the wall early or if they just have Danny fly up, swoop down to grab a white and fly back. I get it. Mechanically, walkers need to be shown as real and dragon needs to die. Mostly, dragon needs to die) So the show can do whatever needed to happen to get Jon to meet Danny and be like…you’re a hot aunt. That…happened. Then the usual sich happens with Jon coming back with the walker. Sure. Whatever.

           But, we changed what happened with Danny. Danny’s now dead. Tyrion is the one in charge. So…what does he do when the Queen’s dead? Tell everyone pack up and go home? NO! He’s got a steak grilling on this army. He wants his family out of power and this is the only way he’s ever going to get anywhere. He’ll show up, uninvited, as the ambassador for the queen, a messenger protected by the knight’s law (or a dragon). He will take a seat at the council saying that Danny wants to negotiate peace in order to fight the wight walkers. Spin the excuse so that he says it was Danny’s plan all along to invade Westeros just to kill the things in the north and she has every intention of leaving afterwards (some kind of clever bs lie that gets his foot in the door and makes Cersei consider it).

           We’ll come back to this in a second, but the point is, this meeting had a reason to happen. Here, there’d be tension because…why couldn’t Danny come herself? Cersei has a reason afterwards to doubt the power of Danny. Tyrion is left a leader, unofficially an equal with his sister.

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           Next important plot line is Sansa, but it won’t be touched on that much. Because, basically, for what they were going for, they did okay. Like…yeah…if you took Sansa, put her in her own Sansa box in this season and edited some things in your mind, it’s cool.

SANSA, LADY OF WINTERHELL:

           Okay, so first off, Jon has to scream at Sansa for not letting anyone know that she had a cavalry that would be a larger army. That knowledge alone would have prevented many deaths in the battle of the bastards. (or at least have it that Sansa told him and then they go like “Oh, I guess the vale didn’t show…shit we have to fight these guys on our own” and then it just turns out the vale was late. Jimmy stubbed his toe—anyway). Sansa and Jon have a power dynamic that is inherently interesting—until it’s presented to you.

           A bunch of old white guys chose a bastard over a queen and Sansa’s birthright was taken from her. Now, the reason this is cool is because, though the Starks are the closest family, they haven’t seen each other in years and Sansa has grown up in places of manipulation and deceit. Living with her Aunt should have broken trust she had in family ties. Jon, has usurped her and she’ll see it like that, but know that he’s too stupid to have done it on purpose.

           In public, she has to put on a bold face because if they go against Jon, they go against the Starks. She and Jon are a packaged deal in the eyes of the northerners right now, so she has to be quiet and kind in public, while in private, they can have those confrontations. (If Sansa learned anything from the series, it should have been to keep her mouth shut and pretend to be one unbreakable unit—but she doesn’t in the show. Pretend she did in this version and went against Jon only in private). Sansa would be caught between two things: The love and trust she has left in her family, and survival through playing the great game. She can love Jon, but think he is a terrible leader in Winterfell, think/ know she can do better, be great where Jon is failing.

            When that letter comes from Danny inviting the king of the north, it should be Sansa pushing Jon to let her stay in charge if he does go—because she knows he will go. Make it her decision. The consequences of her conversations with him are carefully crafted for Jon to instill confidence in her and leave Winterfell to her as if it was his idea. Sansa wants power because she thinks she can be better. So, Jon shoves off, and she’s lady of Winterfell, to many people’s chagrin.

           Then, she uses the tactics she learned in the south, throwing sly comments here and there that make people twist on themselves and acknowledge her as ruler and stabilizes her power. She’s not trying to take the throne back from Jon as much as she’s trying to secure it (instead of little finger doing all of this for her). The entire Season 7 could have been her dance between loving her family and desiring power because she can’t trust anyone else with it. Little Finger would be the devil on one shoulder, whispering encouragement to be tricky. She could employ him to sway the Vale her way, making their change in allegiance and sudden trust in Sansa not LIttle Finger make sense. Arya would be the voice family on the other shoulder.

            Little Finger would still die in the end. Sansa, the most Tully of the Starks, ultimately choosing family over the poison she’s seen in the slimy pursuit of power—but she will want to remain lady of Winterfell because she’s doing such a good job at it and Jon (who she hasn’t seen in years, has deserted the night’s watch, come back, and never even waved at her as he passed their home some 2 odd times on his travel past the wall and back) isn’t capable, and she uses her manipulation to strengthen the FAMILY not herself.

What does Sansa change?

           This basically gives Sansa more agency and culminates in payoff for her arc. That whole thing where Arya was accusing Sansa of wanting power comes off as flat in the show because you know Sansa already chose family and hasn’t been manipulative, it’s only been Little Finger. So…give those actions weight. If Sansa really is torn, show why, because she has more than enough reason to be.

           She’s a new ruler of people in uncertain times whose alliances are in a shifting period. Power is hers and Jon’s but unstable and she should be able to see it. She does in the show. The fickleness of the people around her is a danger and honest tactics, which rely on knowing another’s character, is impossible for someone like Sansa or Jon who haven’t been present. Have men whispering of usurping the absent Starks, saying things were better before this dumb war. Have them saying two children of Ned, their failure, will get them all killed. Have Sansa deal with that. She’s learned from her travels how to be clever, how to make people follow her, how to gain power, but only ever power for herself. Here, with her family, she’ll take the cruelty she learned and grow as a character to expand her definition of rule and make the Starks, as a house, as a name, strong as a pack.

__________________

           So, let’s go to the next major plot thread that made me gnash my teeth: Sibling rivalry. I think the worst part about this is that the fight between Sansa and Arya never needed to happen. It has no consequence. It had no reaosn to exist because niether sister changed status. Before, they were annoyed with one another but willing to work together. After, it’s the same thing. The presentation of this plot is also terrible. The writers leave you in the dark with Sansa and Arya because they want a cheap “shock factor” when Sansa puts Little Finger on trial. But for an entire season, Arya is bringing up bs from 5 years ago (as sisters tend to do) and threatening to murder her own sister over it! But, twist! Sansa and Arya actually weren’t fighting—but they were-and it was all a ploy to get Little Finger exposed…only we were only ever shown Arya saying she is super jiving to kill Sansa in a room with no one else around. Why would a single private conversation between them ever end with Arya threatening to kill her sister if they’re fine with each other by the end? It certainly wasn’t for Little Finger’s benifit, he clearly wasn’t around. It was to manipulate the audience, and it’s dumb. Simple as that. Dumb. Soap Opera levels of lacking in consequence. (In my head, Bran was the one to end it. Like the fight between the girls got so bad it literally created a future that would tear down Winterfell, so he had to grunt and wheel himself into a room with them. Then he used his omnipotent power and told both his sisters to stop being idiots off screen).

           Arya…oh god. She has plot armor just because she’s the favorite and it hurts. Nothing hurts more than seeing a 14 year-old rave about how they could have done everything better and you suck for bending to the world. And, unfortunately, she hasn’t had to compromise for a long time. Everyone she interacts with lets her get away with things that would kill other characters. (many faced men plot).  Somehow, she’s still one of my favorite characters in principle, but execution is….er… The girl needs a thematic slap on the wrist.

ARYA AND THE MANY-FACED CONTRIVANCES

           Let’s look at the core of Arya’s character again. She’s the reluctant princess. The girl who was wild and always wanted to be wild, and there were consequences for that for a very long time. She was never able to be a proper lady, and judged for that so she turned to being tough. That was great with the hound and the red wedding for a long time. Her learning the hardships and cruelties of the world and the need for compromise through a man like the hound was great. 

        Then, she goes to the many-faced men and…tricks them. The cult that makes a living understanding people and taking on the personas as their own indoctrinated a faker because 12-16 year old Arya was the first kid to try to trick them? By being good at the hazing ritual of being blind that everyone probably had to go through? It’s dumb, but roll with it because the books is doing it cleverly so I’ll live.

           Let’s say we keep that, but that the many-faced man let her go because he knew she’d only be more trouble if she stayed. (GLaD0s motivation pretty much. Want her gone because killing her has proven to be more trouble than its worth). Arya can have her Frey thing and the poisoning scene, but then she goes home to Winterfell. She was on a murder spree until she heard Jon was alive. When she gets there and there’s no Jon, she should want to go right back to murder. She’ll want to leave. But Sansa, seeing Arya is trying to travel alone to the most dangerous place in the country, will want to keep her around. As far as Sansa’s concerned, Arya is a child. To Sansa, if she goes out on her own again, she may very well die. Sansa has to keep Arya in Winterfell, lock her in for her own good, not wanting to split up a family. Arya can even tell Sansa she has people on her list to kill and Sansa isn’t going to believe her sister became a magical face-murderer. She’ll say “Okay, that’s nice. Wash up for dinner, don’t stab anyone, please stop creeping everyone out by staring at them like they all killed Nymeria.”

           So, Arya has a reason to bring up distrust and events of Sansa’s past. The sister fight now has a purpose grounded in the characters and their actions. The fight still shouldn’t last long. At best, two episodes. The consequences of a conversation/fight matter more than the actual fight/conversation.

            Set the scene so that Arya confronts and threatens to kill Sansa in that lying game. Sansa says something like this, “I’m keeping you here because I love you and I love my family. I don’t want you to die, and I don’t believe that you can waltz into king’s landing and kill the Lannister’s. You’re a child. You’re going to get yourself killed so excuse me for trying to keep what little of our family is left together. You belong home to be a lady of the house and help when winter is coming!” Only, you know, written well.

           Arya is told for the first time since bravos that she’s not “the shit.” (because who was listening to the waif or the many-faced guy. No one she’s taken seriously has talked her off of her high horse in a while and it shows). So the fight happens and though it ended with Sansa confessing her choice of choosing family over power, Arya takes it to heart that someone thinks she can’t take care of herself. She hates the the idea that she may still be that powerless little girl watching her father get executed from season one. All that’s been keeping her going since that point is that list. If she can’t check off the names, and can’t be a proper lady, what’s left of her? She’s stuck in the past, stuck in a fantasy that will be a revisionist history and keep her from achieving closure.

            Thinking this, Arya runs away from Winterfell and fast-travels to King’s Landing. There, she steals the face of another servant girl and tries to kill Cersei, but the mountain (or something) catches her and her face is removed. Cersei (who’d is about to have a council meeting with the king in the north) will now have leverage. She’ll use Arya as a pawn to win the Stark loyalty, showing her craft and desperate need for allies.

           Arya gets traded for Jon’s declaration of loyalty. He’ll choose family over Danny (who he’s been dicking around with for a while the same way as in the show, sure). Now we got a happy little brigade that’s going to fight the white walkers together.

What does this change?

           Now, there’s a reason for Arya to stay in Winterfell and for her to have a conflict with Sansa. It also fleshes out Sansa’s family vs cunning theme we were going for. Now, Arya can bring up her sister’s past mistakes because Sansa is actually trying to overthrow Jon, so there’s grounds for suspicion. NOW this fight has a consequence. It leads to Arya, who’d been a character shown to be consumed by revenge, relentlessly pursuing that path instead of truly coping.

           When Arya fails to kill Cersie, it makes an impact on her character. She goes to thinking she’s just as powerless as she was when she was little, and it crushes her, frustrates her, boils in her. She can’t stand that thought. She’s trapped in the past and now her purpose is shown to be infeasible. She’s the weak princess she didn’t want to be. (of course, she’s not actually, but that’s what she would think of herself as she’s taken down a peg and she’ll understand her sister’s need to play the game.)

           What else does this change? Something that I really hate. (coming up next).

THE PRINCE THAT WAS PROMISED

           I wonder who—it’s Jon. It’s always Jon. Sure. But NO! NO! NO! NO!

           Here’s why I say NO! Because prophecies in this show have been used as kind of like a cryptic underline to events that happen. Whatever is said is not always whatever is meant. Now, remember when everyone was theorizing who could be the prince that was promised and this is basically Game of Thrones Jesus? For the story to be in keeping with it’s original tone, Game of Thrones Jesus should not exist! Jon should not be him. He’s the most obvious choice and the show has built that up since day one. Sure. It was a three-way tie between Jon, Danny and Tyrion for a long time. But…how about this:

         Keep it the obvious choice everyone discounted. Keep it Danny.

           “But…you killed Danny in this narrative before anyone got to smash,” you say.

           “I did!” I say to you. “Because we’re going to make this prophecy better.”

           Arya has been set up as the girl who can steal faces, someone designed to slip into personas that aren’t hers and nothing of use has been done with that. (I mean in the overall plot. There’s this story telling tool that says you introduce a mechanic early on in a book and reuse that mechanic for another purpose later that wouldn’t be initially thought of. Face stealing is a mechanic with boundless potential).

             What if, at this meeting with Cersei, Arya is thrown in the center with the face of the servant she tried to use. Arya’s called a witch. Tyrion takes notice (because we put him at that meeting already). When Arya is traded back, and Jon has her, Tyrion takes Arya aside and asks her if she can slip into any face. (This is why we need Danny’s corpse back—Oh shit, Danny could be that white walker they present to Cersei. Like, they got what they wanted…you know what? They should have literally just brought someone [like a prisoner marked for death or something] over the wall, killed them, tied up the corpse, waited for the corpse to reanimate, walk back…ANYWAY). Tyrion and Arya have a conversation about the face-stealing-thing and a plan forms in his mind.

           He looks to Arya and asks, “How would you like another chance at ending the Lannister reign? I can help you kill all the people on your list.” (With better written dialogue). Arya’s super down for this plan. Why wouldn’t she be?

           They got the Danny-dead-body-face and Arya slips it on. Now, she’s impersonating queen Danny. In comes the Princess that was promised. Arya will be exactly who she wanted to be, Nymeria, the conquering queen, who has to juggle the duality of the game in her deception, with the gore and violent vengeance promised to her. Now, the legacy of Danny will truly be one of a merciless mad-queen driven only to kill the enemy. Burn them all, Arya. Burn them all.

WHY?

           Because I don’t doubt that Jon Snow’s birth would be a great twist, but it makes the prophecy too obvious now. It fits too well. I hate the prince that was promised prophecy because of how much it adheres to modern convention. I just think George has set up a world that can easily subvert the obvious. If it turned out that someone was wearing the face of the person who was supposed to be this prophesied messiah, that’s so much better in my opinion. (It also has to be someone the audience has as much attachment to as Danny. Someone from season 1, who won’t be a “lesser” replacement. You still want to keep people interested after killing off a major character so another major character has to take her place). Arya’s technically Danny from that point on, making her the prince that was promised. The “savior” is now Arya, the girl consumed by revenge and blood, the girl shaped in this world, taken all around it, and culminated into this leader for people she doesn’t care about. Her own goals are short-sighted, leaving her a pawn for Tyrion (a great ruler the people would never follow) to shape the world as he sees fit. You can even add Cersie’s prophecy that a younger queen will usurp her–Arya in Danny’s skin.

             You remember that phrase “The dragon has three heads?” One for Danny (the OG ruler), one for Arya/impersonator, one for Tyrion (the man who will rule in her name). I know it’s supposed to refer to the riders, but let me dream.

______________

           Oh my god, we’re finally near the end! There’s other plot points that aren’t great, but they either ultimately don’t impact the story that much, are implied with the changes, are fine as they are, or I don’t care. This is long enough as it is. A few closing thoughts: you can’t have a long-running series and kill off all the main characters while still keeping investment intact, I get it. Danny’s a favorite, so is Jon, so is Arya, so is Peter Dinklage. That’s why they have super thick plot armor. But, the show has grown toothless. The overall story is not the story of these characters. It’s the country’s story. How this one continent ends up scarred by the damage of people who ends up ruling it. Whoever sits on the Iron Throne says something about the world, not the people in it.

           The main conflict of the show is that there’s this terrible force coming in from the north. While it’s approaching, power has to be a loose structure and chaos has to run rampant through all of Westeros. If you watch everything before season 6 and say “Hey, looks like this country’s plot line is finally going to be in order and we may have a stable and just power structure”—No. That’s why you had the Red Wedding, that’s why you had the Lord of Light and demon baby, that’s why you have a line of dead Lannister kings. It’s a world-wide story. That’s why there’s no mini-cut off point with perfect plot resolution.

           Also, I know there’s a lot of cool stuff in the books I’m not mentioning. That’s because the books and show are separate entities with just the main stretch goals as their common ground at this point (I guess). So, most of this is show-based.

           I feel like I said this before, but I don’t hate this series. I love it. I’ve had a lot of fun with it. There’s a metric ton of talent going into the show and the books and I am glad they exist. I’m still dying waiting for the next book, and the show will have my groaning support every Sunday when it next airs. Until then, for my own piece of mind, I’ll just scream at this wall.

[sweetwriting]

Tim Drake Week 2017 - Day 4: Enemies / Family

Category : Gen

Genre : Angst / Fluff / Family

Fandoms : DC Comics, Batman (1940), Detective Comics, Young Justice (1998), Robin v4 (1993), Superman - Batman (2003), Teen Titans (2003)

Continuity : Post-Crisis/Pre-Flashpoint

Summary : Tim always wanted a family but things aren't that simple. Or are they ?

Author’s notes : This one's a little longer than I expected (I try to do less than 1000 word each) I hope you'll enjoy it.

Word Count : 2251

To read it on AO3

There were many Rogues in Gotham, but each of its vigilantes had their own nemeses among them. Well Tim only had one. One whom, strangely, none of the other members  of the Batfam had ever gone against (and while they were all competent he was a special breed which would be hard to overcome for anyone other than him, Bruce or Barbara, well even for him it was hard), two if you added Ra's Al Ghul on the list after Ulysses but Tim wasn't sure whether to call him a nemesis or a creepily obsessed stalker (he had sent him a woman to bear his heir and if this wasn't a creepily obsessive behavior then what was). Well and King Snake but it was a whole can he'd rather avoid opening.

But Tim had held his own against them all. And especially against the Joker.

Sure the Joker wasn't the worst of them all really (honestly in Tim's mind Scarecrow, Ulysses, and the Riddler were on top of the list), but he was the one who had murdered Robin and seeing Robin back, well…He might have developed a bit of an obsession too even if, weirdly he never seemed that tempted to act on it aside from their first encounter.

His first meeting with Scarecrow (who was Dick's own Gotham nemesis) had been quite something too since it was thanks to that encounter that Batman had allowed him to become Robin. Though now that he was older and more -or less depending on how you see it- emotionally stable he was trying to remember if the hallucinations he had seen were due to a bit of the gas reaching him or not (he had thought Conner was another hallucination back in Paris after all).

And of Course Two-Face, the first time he met Bruce and Alfred…How had they never realized Tim wasn't alright is beyond him now that he's started introspecting on his life as Robin since the very beginning.

Finally, the Riddler. He may not have faced him much but Tim would be lying if he didn't admit that, despite the lives hanging in the balance, he couldn't help but enjoy trying to solve those riddles (to this day his favorites were the ones on baseball and that time he had to team up with Wally).

Of course he had face them all but, some like Penguin were a real pain but they weren't that important to him. Others like Selina or Ivy were different because Selina had, at least partially settled down (and was usually pretty nice to him even if she loved mocking him) and he couldn't help but feel for Ivy's crusade.

The biggest one though had been Jason Todd (and Damian Wayne). Because Bruce was still so attached to him and Tim had tried, he had freed Jason because he chose to let his own issues go and give Jason a chance. What a bad idea that was. Apparently the pit Madness was still present. Even if it had lessened.

Now. Now however Jason seemed to have slightly settled. And Tim still felt the guilt for letting him go too soon but he had still let go of most of his resentment toward him. So sure Jason wouldn't be his family (maybe one day but at most Tim believes they'll be cordial to each other), but at least he and Bruce were making progress and really that's what matters even if… Tim had always wanted a family. It was easier to admit now that he had finally mourned his father, but he never really gave him one. First he and his mother kept leaving him behind, then Jack was forced to stay and still had the reflex to leave him behind when he wanted to -even if for lesser lengths of time- and got angry when Tim had to cancel at the last minute. Tim now realized the depth of the hypocrisy his father had shown back then. The anger he always directed at Tim for simple mistakes. Tim realized it now, because he followed some courses on parenting to be of at least some use to his Neon Knights Program (also Conner had convinced him to see a therapist who treated the few heroes who admitted they needed the help and seeked resolution. Bruce had, of course, verified all their references before Tim could even think about it, after all if they had been helping Kon they were probably good -and Conner seemed to feel so much better). He realized now that his parents had been neglectful and that his father managed to be both neglectful and verbally abusive (and physically violent even if it was never directed at Tim's body, it was still only directed at Tim's stuff).

So he wanted a family and when he was 9 he started projecting on Dick, because Dick had hugged him when he was still pretty much a baby and he had been so happy and Dick was Robin, and he had been taken in by Bruce Wayne, by Batman and he seemed so happy. And not long after this Jason joined and, well Tim didn't know him so he mostly focused on him as Robin.

And then he really met them and, of course they weren't a family. It was a job and Tim still wanted his parents to be the ones taking care of him. Still he and Bruce got closer, especially after his father became comatose and his mother died. Because there was no way to know when he'd wake up and Bruce and Alfred took care of him and, sure it was more like going to your grandparents with your uncle than anything else but it was the closest Tim had had to a real family since he had been 4 or 5. And Dick. It took about a year but Dick became Tim's big brother, and oh how he loved him. Dick was easily one of the most important people in Tim's life, the one person (with Conner and Bart) he thought would never hurt him. Of course he ended up being wrong but he still loved him so much and Tim shouldn't feel so betrayed for one little mistake but he couldn't help himself (according to his therapist though he should have a talk with Dick because apparently it wasn't just one simple mistake but, Tim didn't want to ruin the fragile status quo they had reached. Of course he knew his therapist was right but he just couldn't do it).

Now Dick was obviously the biggest influence on him, but one shouldn't forget Alfred Pennyworth, who was the one person everybody loved and no one could refuse him anything. Alfred loved everyone so much and they all know it. If there's one thing that they knew it was that.

One of the thing that surprises Tim the most is the number of sisterly figures he gained : Barbara who was like a mom sometimes, whom he shared a passion for computers with, one of the rare people who was more intelligent than him. Helena who was one of the first people he teamed up with and who had become a sort of on and off sisterly figure to him (who allowed him to raid her fridge), he only partially trusted her on the field, but if you put aside her murdering streak she was genuinely one of the most compassionate people he met (as long as you weren't a criminal). Finally Cassandra Cain who had just come back to Gotham had really intimidated him at first, not especially because of her skills and efficiency (though there was that) but because of her kind heart and strong will which made him ashamed of his own. But he got past it and things weren't always good but he loves her so much, she's one of his favorite people in the world. And he's so glad he accepted to see a therapist because she convinced him to *force* a little reconnection with them and they're all amazingly supportive.

He misses Harold, who was great company when he was around despite his lack of speech. He misses Ace, the Bat Hound who was the only pet he was ever allowed to have (he could hep but be jealous of Damian's zoo as he was never even allowed to keep a cat for a night and he had never dared ask his parents for one before, at least not since he was a kid and decided they wouldn't be able to take care of a pet and that they didn't want to take one and have to take it back if Tim grew bored…He couldn't help make a parallel now and it's one of those times he wishes he had never gone to that therapist). He misses Steph even if he now realized how unhealthy they were being. It might have been better if they had been friends (if he hadn't tried to run from the drama with Ariana), according to his dear therapist one of their biggest issues was the imbalance in power due to Tim mentoring Steph at the beginning, maybe now they could work on that and start being friends. Not to forget Dana, his sweet step-mother. She was still in a mental institute but Metropolis was a lot better for her health than Blüdhaven was (not that it was a surprise) and he had -finally- introduced her to some of his fellow Titans. She of course fell in love with Bart and Kon who were "sweet and thoughtful". One day she even took them aside and they discussed something that none of them ever revealed to him, but whichever it was, it obviously made them all happy (and really as long as they were happy he didn't care that much what had happened). He and Damian still didn't get along but they did have a sort of truce now (mostly because Damian's pets liked it when Tim petted them and it probably did more for Tim's cause than anything else ever could. On his side Tim had admitted to himself all the progress Damian had done and it was easier to not see him as a threat).

Then there were his friends. Young Justice had felt like a holiday camp sometimes, it was mostly fun and Tim couldn't help but wish he had been able to be himself completely and not just the Robin part of him. Back then it felt like they were all a bunch of (un)disciplined siblings and cousins. Then Donna died and…Well things got hard. Cassie who already had anger issues became worse and… he still can't believe they dated when they never really saw each other as anything but siblings (it says a lot about what Conner's death did to them and…Well he only started on this part with his therapist but at some point, they had had a weird knowing smile that felt slightly out of place). He loved Cassie but not in a romantic way and he felt honestly disturbed every time that week-end wass brought up. Bart was like a little brother whom he had mentored for a while, he was a true and tried genius when it came to engineering and computer programming. Tim would be jealous if he wasn't so proud of everything Bart had accomplished (or simply happy that Bart was alive), some of the Titans usually joked that Bart was the Baby friend to Tim's Dad Friend Trope and to Conner's Mom Friend one (they didn't know that Tim and Conner had done it long ago and he never realized how right he was).

And of course Conner. His best friend still loved to mock him (and it went both ways, Tim never missed his shot), but they were even closer than before. When he died Conner had been away for a couple of weeks and refused his calls because he felt guilty for breaking his arm (and other things which...honestly were too big to start thinking about). But before that he had been one of the rare people able to convince Tim that he wasn't a bother and that he should talk to him/them when something weighted him down (of course he still needed a push but he accepted it gladly). And Tim knew that, likewise, he was one of the rare people Conner felt comfortable talking about his harshest fears and issues with. Despite this, or maybe because of it, Conner was probably the healthiest relationship Tim has ever had with anyone (even Bart and Cass) because they didn't hesitate to talk about things that were wrong between them (not that there were many to begin with) and they actually dealt with them and that before even going to a therapist, they had even gone to a session together once, they had joked that it was couple counselling and the therapist told them that a lot more friends should do it because whether it's romantic or platonic every relationships need work. But, apparently theirs didn't because they naturally (or not, apparently it's mostly thanks to an advice Conner got from the then supergirl that they started having healthier reflexes) dealt with their issues. So yeah lots of love and support there. It was nice to have at least one person he could entirely trust and rely on.

And Tim couldn't help it but, it gave him hope for the future.

Author’s Note 2 : Hope you enjoyed it. As most of my works it was unbeta-ed.

For the physically violence toward Tim's stuff, I don't remember the number of the issue but there was at least once when Jack broke Tim's TV because Tim was distracted by it. (if I remember correctly it was after Jack grounded Tim because he refused to listen to Tim's explanation after Ariana's uncle called him and Tim was stuck in his room so he was watching the news which are, admittedly slightly more important than his father coming to explain to Tim how it was his fault that Jack ended up reacting this way...A++ Father Jack)

[blustersquall]

Only Make Believe // Chapter 5: Sisterly Protection

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December 17th, afternoon

--

The town of Edgehall was a scenic, twenty minute drive away. The road gave views up to the Frostback Mountains and down to the valley in which the town was situated. Even from a distance it was possible to make out Christmas lights flickering on buildings. It was the town where Ineria's children went to school,  and though small it was well populated and surprisingly busy. Over the years it had become something of a tourist town given how easy it was for visitors to take a ski lift or cable car up into the mountains to partake of the activities there.

It was mostly made up of hotels and family-run bed and breakfasts. There was a quaint, old fashioned pedestrianized high street with shops packed together on either side of a wide road. A small shopping center was undergoing some renovations, but was still accessible by three sets of doors.

It was a town that, in some ways, seemed almost untouched by modern culture. Nevena counted only two chain coffee houses as Cullen drove the car through the streets, following closely behind Ineria and Josef's people carrier. Many of the restaurants, cafés, and businesses were independently owned and seemed to do well for themselves given the bustle of the town and the number of people milling about.

As they drove, looking for a place to park, they passed a park lined with fir trees where Nevena saw a temporary ice rink was set up for the winter season. She was surprised   to see so few people taking advantage of it - but given the way the weather was brighter now than it had been in the morning, she reasoned more people might be up on the mountains skiing.

Cullen parked up in a space across from the people carrier and turned off the engine. He and Nevena both waited for people to begin piling out of the larger car before either of them unfastened their seatbelts. There was still a certain coolness between them following her father's comments, and though she apologized and he accepted her apology, she had a feeling it would take an apology from Nevan himself for Cullen to truly relax.

She wanted to tell him not to hold his breath, that it wasn't worth getting worked up over. Her father was one of the most stubborn people she knew and he rarely apologized, if ever. A heat wave in winter was more likely than Nevan Trevelyan apologizing.

Cullen locked the car when they were both out and waited for Nevena's sisters to organize themselves. Ineria was staying up at the house to help Katrin and Nevan unpack, and Nevena felt a little calmer without her around. Of course, it meant she didn't know if Ineria was saying anything harmful about her to her parents, being vindictive or spreading falsehoods, but she would worry about that later.

"Nevvie!" Arienne linked her arm with Nevena's dragging her away from Cullen. Nevena stiffened for a moment, unused to the contact before she fell into step with Arienne. Ineria's youngest son, Dante, ran up to hold Nevena's hand and walked with her.

If Nevena would enjoy one thing about this time with her family, it would be catching up with her niece and nephews. They were the family members she missed the most. Matilda emailed her frequently from school, but it was not the same as seeing her. In the time since Nevena had last seen them, Matilda had grown to be almost her height - something Nevena was jealous off, given her niece was only twelve and had several years of growing still left to do. The baby fat that had lingered around Matilda’s face was gone, leaving her with fine features and pretty hazel eyes. Rowan, now six, and Dante, now four, both looked more and more like Josef. They were rambunctious, energetic and always up to something. Rowan only seemed to stop when Josef told him to. Nevena noticed that morning how the two of them were the ones who played up when Ineria was telling them to change their clothes or stop fidgeting. Rowan was the ringleader, Dante copied his brother and Matilda was the quietest of the three.

"Did you see the skating rink?" Arienne asked, almost marching with Nevena down the street. Monty was on Arienne's other side, tapping furiously away at his phone. It seemed even though this was meant to be a break for everyone, Monty was still working.

"Yes." Nevena managed to wriggle her arm enough so Arienne's grip loosened. She glanced back to see Cullen a few paces behind them. He was glancing in shop windows as they walked past, but seemed alert and listening. Clotilde and Owen walked on Nevena's opposite side, going at Liam's toddler pace, and Josef had Rowan up on his shoulders. The boy was trying to reach for the Christmas lights dangling overhead on shop awnings and signposts.

"You should take Cullen skating!" Arienne told her. "Cleo and I can't go, obviously." She patted her belly. "But we could watch you."

"Maybe." Nevena held tighter to Dante's hand as they approached a road to cross. "I don't skate much anymore."

"Did you know she used to skate at a Championship level?" Arienne peered over her shoulder at Cullen. "Our Nevvie was very good!"

"Please don't call me Nevvie," Nevena muttered under her breath.

"I didn't know," Cullen's voice came from behind Nevena. She glanced back again to see him looking at her. Another thing about her life she probably should have mentioned before they entered into this arrangement. Another thing she would need to explain. Her stomach tightened at that thought. She would have to go into detail at some point, divulge to him all the details of her past and the reasons why she  continued to distance herself from her family for so long.

She dreaded that inevitable conversation.

She did not want him to know the reasons. She wanted to forget them, as she had been unsuccessfully trying to do for the last three years, but some things never went away. If he asked, she would tell him. Maybe. Eventually. If it was necessary. She hoped it wouldn't be, but she knew she was fooling herself. She would have to tell him.

"What else haven't you told him?" asked Clotilde with a smile that reminded Nevena of a snake about to strike. Nevena blanched. Of course, if Ineria wasn't around to make snide and passive aggressive comments, it fell to her second-in-command. It was disappointing to realize that her sisters really had not changed much since Nevena's childhood. She was still the black sheep of the family, still the odd one out. At least Arienne seemed too focused on herself to join in - though how long that would last, Nevena was not entirely certain. Eventually she would get bored of gushing about how great it was that she was pregnant and how excited she was. When she got bored, Nevena wasn’t sure if Arienne would join forces with Ineria and Clotilde, or stay out of it. Arienne always was the wild card and could be hard to read, even when they were younger she didn’t always join in on tormenting Nevena. She didn’t come to her aid or defense either, but she wasn’t as bad as she could have been.

Nevena glanced at Clotilde. "It's never come up. There aren't any skating rinks in Denerim so..."

"So?" Clotilde pressed. "You could have told him and made a day trip somewhere. I'm sure there are ice rinks within driving distance."

"Okay, I get it." Nevena huffed suddenly irritated and weary. "I didn't tell Cullen I used to skate. Now he knows. Can we drop it, please?" Her face burned hot from her forehead to her neck. Her ears felt as though they were on fire underneath her hat and when Clotilde refused to drop her gaze, Nevena looked away submissively. “It’s not like it matters anyway.” She finally unlatched her arm from Arinne’s grasp and walked off with Dante, following his tugging towards the window of an old fashioned sweet shop, with a decorative Father Christmas in the window.

Not caring if anyone – including her sisters - was watching, Nevena pressed her forehead to the glass, enjoying the cold surface on her hot skin. She closed her eyes, counted slowly in her head and breathed between each number. Anxiety flared in her chest. She hadn’t considered the small innocuous things about her that her sisters might bring up. It seemed so foolish to get upset and angry about them mentioning the skating  but it was a part of her life she once enjoyed that she was forced to give up. The last time she'd goneskating was before Dante was born. She still had a pair of skates in her closet at home. Occasionally she took them out and examined them. The blades needed sharpening, they were old and out of style, old. Not that she could bring herself to wear them again.

After allowing herself to feel the brief nostalgia of a time when she’d enjoyed herself and had things in her life which were hers, she would put the skates away and ignore that feeling. She was an expert at ignoring a lot of things, even as they scratched at the back of her mind until they were almost too invasive to bear.

"I don't know how to skate," Cullen's voice was behind her and she saw his reflection, distorted a little in, the glass. "Maybe you could teach me at some point while we’re here?" He offered a supportive smile, one Nevena just managed to return.

"Maybe." She turned to face him. "It's been a long time though. I don't know if I'll even be able to balance."

"I'm sure it's just like riding a bike," Cullen remarked, his smile broadening. "You do know how to ride a bike?"

"Yes," Nevena treated him to a half-hearted withering look, her mouth pulling into a small smile. She appreciated his attempt to make light and make her smile – the only other people in her life who made the effort to do that were Roselyn and Alistair. "Who doesn't?"

"I don't!" Dante piped up, grabbing both Cullen and Nevena’s attention He wiped his nose on his sleeve. Nevena grimaced and Cullen chuckled. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and gave it to Dante. He shoved it in his pocket, unused and sniffed loudly. "Can we go in, please?" He pointed to the shop door.

"Uh..." Nevena glanced around. She could see Clotilde and Owen peering into the window of a jewellery boutique. Arienne and Monty were chatting with Josef, the three of them meandering down the road with Rowan. Matilda's attention was taken by a street performer nearby. "Sure." She looked to Cullen. "Would you like to come with us?"

He looked inside through the window at the bustling bodies and shook his head. "I'll stay out here and wait for you."

"Okay." Nevena opened the door. A bell tinkled above her and Dante slipped out of her grasp, running inside and disappearing almost immediately in the throngs of people. “We won’t be long.” She followed him through the people trying to keep him in sight. The door closed behind her.

Cullen waited outside as he said he would. He stepped to one side to allow other people to look in and admire the festive decoration in the window and fished his phone out of his pocket. He had a handful of text messages from his friends and family. Nothing urgent and no missed calls. He replied to a message from his sister and another from a work colleague asking if he wanted to attend a Christmas Eve party. As he was typing, an email popped through.

Hey Curly,

Been a while since I heard anything from you. How's life in the big city? I can't believe I wrote that. That's as big a cliché as in one of my books. You don't have to answer. Kirkwall is still standing, I'm sure you're happy to hear. Cassandra says 'hi'. (Not really. She just kind of grunted when I said you emailed me. I think that means 'hello'.)

That's enough small talk.

What's this favor I owe you? I thought we were square after that whole double or nothing drunk bet debacle a couple of years back when Josephine took you for literally everything you were wearing (don't deny it, I have the photographic evidence). Or did something else crop up that I forgot? That's more likely. I really need to get myself a PA.

- Varric

Cullen smirked at the email and read it again. If Varric was good for one thing, it was replying promptly to messages that weren’t from his editor or publisher. Cullen sent his email barely two hours ago while waiting for everyone to organize themselves at the house before they left to come into town. If Varric was replying this quickly, he probably had a deadline he was trying to avoid.

He started to tap out a reply.

Varric,

Burn the photos. Delete them. I don't care how; just make sure they never see the light of day. Mentioning that event in an email is still mentioning it. And we agreed not to. For all our sakes.

About this favor. Think you could squeeze in few minutes for me on Skype at some point? Between dodging your editor and deadlines.

- Cullen

PS. Grunt ‘hello’ at Cassandra too for me.

"What are you smiling at?" Cullen pressed a button so the screen of his phone went blank after sending his reply. Clotilde was at his side, a disarmingly sweet smile on her face. His interactions with Nevena's family so far were minimal. From meeting her the day before, Clotilde seemed a nice enough woman and happy in herself. Still, following on from the morning and Nevena's general demeanor when around her sisters, Cullen was determined to tread carefully.

"Sorry." He pocketed his phone. "Just an email."

"From?"

"A... friend." Cullen tilted a brow, uncertain as to why Clotilde inquired as to who the email was from. "An invite for to a get together on New Year's Eve. Obviously, I refused, given I'll be here."

Clotilde looked at him shrewdly, a look that matched the one Ineria had given him the day before when she answered the door and looked him up and down. If anyone ever doubted the two were related, all they would need to do is ask them both to make the expression. The similarities were uncanny. The way it pulled Clotilde's face in made her look harsher and sharpened some of the roundness of her face. "A male friend? Female friend?"

"Male," Cullen replied sharply. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing." Her eyes went wide with a look of innocence and insult that struck Cullen as very practiced. "I'm not implying anything. Just looking out for my sister."

"Right."

"We don't know you, Cullen. And Nevena is an important member of our family," Clotilde said with a smile that was less than genuine. "We protect our own."

Except from each other, Cullen wanted to say. Almost said. The words stuffed themselves onto his tongue and he had to fight the urge to let them out. He didn't have the knowledge or the grounds to say something insulting or cutting like that. Even if just watching Nevena interact with her sisters was enough to make him sure he was right, he couldn't in good conscience say it… but he could certainly think it.

"You have nothing to protect her from," said Cullen, controlling the tone of his voice to remain cordial. "I have no intention of hurting her." That was true. Even though their arrangement was a contract, she was a client, and there was nothing there, he was not about to do anything to humiliate or hurt her in what was already a difficult situation.

"That's good," Clotilde's expression slipped into a saccharine sweet smile. They stood in silence for a few moments. Cullen glanced around through the people passing by, trying to see if he could spot any of Nevena's other relatives. The faces all meshed together for him, and apart from Clotilde, he could not spot anyone else. "How did you two meet anyway?" asked Clotilde. "Nevena hasn't said."

"You never asked," Cullen replied bitingly. "Well, you started to ask at dinner last night, but when Nevena answered you lost interest."

There was an instant where Cullen saw shock flicker across Clotilde's face. Her eyes widened and he was sure he saw color flood her cheeks. She stared at him, as  anger covered the shock. She was poorly forcing herself to keep it under wraps. Judging from her expression, Cullen doubted anyone ever called any one of Nevena's sisters out on their treatment towards her. It was a good feeling to know he had. If he was going to spend the next few weeks with these people, he was going to try and step in and call them out when he could.

The instant passed and Clotilde schooled her expression to cool interest. "Well, I'm asking you now," she said with an enigmatic smile. "Where did you meet?"

"At a party her friend Roselyn was throwing."

"Roselyn?" Clotilde repeated. "She's still friends with... with her?"

Cullen quirked a brow, "What's wrong with Roselyn? She's very amiable. She and Nevena are close." He assumed they were at least. He got the feeling they were from the way Nevena spoke about Roselyn when they first met.

"Roselyn is an interfering busy body," she said sharply. "She had to stick her nose in when Nevena and Rick were going through their break up. I'm sure they would have patched things up if she'd just stayed out of it!"

"I don't know." A pause and Cullen brushed his thumb over the puckered skin of his scar. He glanced across the street where he could see Rowan's head peeking over the top of the passersby from where he was sitting on his father's shoulders. "From what I understand, Roselyn is the closest friend Nevena has." Another assumption, but one he was sure he was right in making. "I don't think she would have stepped in unless she was doing it for a good reason."

"What do you know about Rick?" Clotilde spoke to Cullen but her eyes were elsewhere, looking around the people walking down the high street. "Has Nevena told you anything?"

"No, it's her business. She'll tell me when she wants to, when she feels ready to."

"It's a fascinating story," she smirked. "Completely fantastic. If it was in a book, it would be a riveting read." She looked at Cullen. "You should ask her about it."

"Why is everyone in your family so fixated on her ex?" The question left Cullen's mouth before he could stop it, and it was one he’d been wanting to ask since the day before. Seeing Nevena's reaction to the photograph that still contained him was enough to pique his interest. Her father's reaction that morning, and now Clotilde's comments were causing his curiosity to brim over. "What, was he some kind of genius? A new age thinker?"

"He was practically family," Clotilde snapped. "She was selfish when she ended it. Didn't think of us. Just herself."

"Forgive me, but shouldn't her happiness with her relationship and her life matter more than yours?"

When Clotilde looked at him, it was a look of condescension and it made Cullen bristle. "That's cute. Quaint." She patted his arm, adding to her patronizing manner. "He was gift-wrapped for her, or as good as, and he spoiled her rotten. She was ungrateful. And worse, she started to spread vindictive rumors and slander him afterwards."

"Nevena did?" Cullen crossed his arms. "That Nevena, in there?" He pointed into the shop. "The one who jumps at loud noises and apologizes just for breathing?"

"Oh, she has her claws in you very deep, doesn't she?" Clotilde smiled at him. "It's a good act, no doubt about it. She's probably a better actress than Ineria ever tried to be in school. But she'll show her true colors eventually."

"I..." Cullen wanted to laugh. He wasn't sure if Clotilde was serious or if this was just some kind of twisted hazing. As if by saying these poisonous things, it would prompt him into believing her. Or questioning her further. Or she hoped it would cause him to make a scene and confront Nevena. He was curious, there was no doubt about it. The more people mentioned this mysterious Rick, the more Cullen wanted to know. There was clearly some deep-seated issue surrounding him and whatever reason Nevena gave for ending things. But Cullen wasn't about to press for information from Clotilde. He wouldn't seek information from anyone except Nevena, and even then only if she offered it to him. He caught the things he wanted to say and held them back. Instead he took a breath to settle the tightness in his chest and reconsidered.

"Why are you telling me these things, Clotilde?" he asked, turning on a friendly smile and relaxed tone of voice. "Are you hoping saying these things will cause me to confront Nevena? Or make a fuss in public? You want me to humiliate her?"

"I don't know what you mean," Clotilde's smile was just as aimiable, warm, and false as his own. "I'm giving you some friendly advice, as someone who was there when Nevena became a member of the family and watched her grow up."

"And I'm sure you had a deft hand in molding her into the woman she is today," he continued to smile, his cheeks beginning to ache. "If this is how you ‘look out’ for your sister, I would hate to see how you deal with your enemies."

"I am -"

"Not in a position to tell me anything about her. She hasn't seen you in three years. So, thank you for your friendly warning - but I'll take my chances." He nodded to Clotilde, stiff but polite. "Excuse me." He left her standing as he pulled the door to the sweet shop open. It was bustling and noisy inside, but anywhere was better than out there with someone as spiteful and vicious as Clotilde.

The late-evening news was winding down, and Cullen was waiting for the next day forecast so he could get an idea of what things he might be able to do tomorrow. The trip into Edgehall had been successful and now he and Nevena had the cupboards in the kitchen stocked with bits and pieces they could use for cooking meals and snacking. He sat on the couch, legs sprawled out in front of him, while Nevena was curled up at the opposite end, already changed into her pajama bottoms and the same hooded shirt from the morning. She had a mug between her hands and her glasses on, though her attention was drawn to the tablet on her knees.

On the drive back to Skyhold and during the dinner Cullen cooked, they had made casual small talk, more comfortable alone together than the day before. He hadn't mentioned the comments Clotilde made, uncertain as to how to approach the topic. So far, Nevena's only reaction when it came to talking about Rick had been negative. Clearly it was a difficult and sensitive subject for her, but he needed to know details. Even if they were the most mundane details, just something so if Rick came up in conversation again - and Cullen had a distinct feeling he would - he would have some information at his disposal.

Adverts popped up on screen and Cullen muted the television. He glanced across at her, this woman who was putting herself through her own personal Hell, and found himself wondering why. His parents had always told him not to speak ill of people if he could help it, but the Trevelyan family were simply not nice - at least with what he knew of them so far. Perhaps, when the sisters were alone, they were nice people. But together in a gang, as they were now, they were like a pack of wolves. He knew there must have been a reason for their disdain towards Nevena beyond sibling jealousy and rivalry, but what?

There was the mysterious ex, of course. He had Clotilde, Nevena and Nevan Trevelyan confirming that Rick was almost family. Nevena had called him 'the son her father always wanted'. Maybe there was a time that he had been close to the family and almost was family, but breakups happened every day. Cullen found it astounding and immensely infuriating that her family chose to side with Nevena's ex, rather than their actual sister or daughter. She seemed to be a pariah for having done something for herself. It wasn't fair.

"What's on your mind?"

Cullen blinked hard. He practically felt himself falling back into the room as his gaze shifted from staring at nothing in the middle distance to focus in on Nevena. "What?"

"You muted the television and just... stared into nothing." Nevena unfurled her legs from beneath her and placed her tablet on the coffee table. "What's on your mind?" She stretched her arms out towards him, wriggled her fingers and gave a satisfied little groan when her muscles relaxed.

"Why should anything be on my mind?" He  gathered soiled plates from the table then stood. He crossed to the kitchen area, placed them in the sink, ran the tap and began to clean up, entirely aware of Nevena watching his every move.

"You were talking to Clotilde for a while." Cullen glanced back to see Nevena leaning up over the back of the couch. It was amazing to Cullen how different she was when she was relaxed and there were no sisters. Even now, she came across as more playful. The tone of her voice was lighter and there was no tension in the way she held herself. "Did you talk about anything interesting?"

"No."

"Just me?" The mug in his hand slipped into the soapy water and clunked on the bottom of the sink. He looked across at her and noticed the wry smile on her lips. "It's okay. I knew she would talk to you about me. Either her or Ineria." He watched Nevena climb off the sofa.

"Not Arienne?"

"Eh," Nevena shrugged. "Arienne is a bit of a wildcard. Sometimes she's on their team, sometimes she's on mine." A pause. "And then sometimes she's Estwatch."

Cullen stared at her, confused. "Estwatch?" he said. "What does Estwatch have to do with anything?"

"Estwatch is an impartial party. Never gets involved with wars or politics. Somehow avoids being dragged into conflict, even though its neighboring countries might be undergoing radical changes." Nevena came to his side and leaned against the counter. "Arienne is sometimes Estwatch, even when we were kids."

"I see." He continued to wash the crockery and stack it, surprised when Nevena picked up a dishtowel and began to dry each piece as he set it aside. It was relaxed, almost domestic how easy and comfortable it was to fall into something so mundane. He was used to cleaning up after himself rather than letting things pile up. For all that it was something so simple, it was actually nice to have the company while doing such a dull task. A few times she splashed water on clean objects so he would have to clean them again. He retaliated by flicking water off his fingers tips into her face. Her nose crinkled and her expression lit up when she laughed.

"Can I ask you something?" Cullen said, after a long period of comfortable silence.

"Mhm-hm." Nevena rocked onto the balls and heels of her feet with the regularity of the metronome.

"It's about your ex."

She stopped. "Okay." She gently put the plate she was drying to one side and placed the cloth on the counter. She faced him, expression hard and steady. "What do you want to know?"

"Just..." Cullen dried his hands, crossed his arms and faced her, leaning his hip against the work surface. "Why is your family so attached to him? What happened? They act like he was Maker-sent."

Nevena smirked to herself and laughed softly through her nose. She pushed her fingers through her hair before she straightened up. "They thought he was perfect. He could do no wrong in their eyes. He was the perfect gentleman, at least in their fantasy. They loved the person he presented to them. The man they met maybe two or three times a year.."

"Oh..."

"The person he actually was... was very different."

"I see." Cullen rubbed the scar of his lip. The hair on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably and his stomach grew strangely heavy in his gut. As if the meal he had consumed had turned to lead. "So..."

"They adored him. Adored him more than I did, that's for sure." Nevena's lips quirked to one side. "And the break up was messy." She peered up at him through messy locks of hair. "Like, nuclear fallout messy." She mimicked the sound of an explosion and gestured what Cullen assumed was meant to be a mushroom cloud.

Cullen chuckled, "That's pretty messy."

"Yeah..." Nevena trailed. Her smile weakened and she pushed both hands through her hair, brushing her fingers through until it was less tangled. She left her hands to rest on her shoulders, palms down. "They've never quite forgiven me for ending things with him. It was over three years ago, and they still ask about him in phone calls and emails. As if I would be in touch with him after--"

"After...?"

Time froze for a moment and Nevena's eyes locked with his. He saw uncertainty, rising panic, almost terror - as if concerned that just talking about this man would somehow summon him. She had let her guard down too much and he could practically see her putting the walls back up as high as they could possibly go. Protecting herself. She had to protect herself.

"Nothing." She shook her head and the moment was gone. The fear and trepidation in her expression was replaced by tiredness. "Never mind."

Cullen placed a tentative hand on her shoulder moving his thumb in a circle. "Nevena..."

"Maybe I'll give you the gory details some other time." She smiled - false and brief - before she slipped and out of his grasp and away from him. "I'm going to bed." She waved. "Night Cullen. Have a good sleep."

Cullen watched as she disappeared behind the bedroom door. He wanted to try and coax her into staying and talking longer. He found he enjoyed her company and they didn’t have to talk about her family, or her ex. But the door was already closed when he opened his mouth to try and stop her. He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Goodnight, Nevena."

Hey everyone~

Thank you again for reading the previous chapter, and reading this one. I am appreciating it so much. And thank you for all the comments on the last chapter. Some really gave me some food for thought, and that is never a bad thing. I hope you liked this chapter, and you're enjoying the fic. As always, let me know in the comments, tags, reblogs or on in the comment son AO3 or ff.net.

See you in the next chapter. <3

[glopratchet]

astryl-wondering

with an angry face, it's eyes are filled with hatred and rage Cludstrum is a computer program that is attached to the conciousness of astryl wylde, a journalist for the realm of astokahn He bursts out of a tent made out of stained bed sheets in a desert environment It keeps whispering to astryl trying to get him back online, who is full of bitterness and captive to sin and this is evident because of astryl being attached and fused within a succubus and a incubus he's got his hands tied behind his back and has been brutally beaten up by Cludstrum Astyrl of course comes out of the tent naked with his green smelly breath He falls on his knees and out come his cow shaped teeth a garbage dump "Alright faggot demon imbecile! keep it together" The wrecked tent looks like with green, blue and reddish purple stripes yet it's made out of bedsheets and thin particles hold the tent from collapsing This is Cludstrum The mutated tent is colored Large speaker machine Snow white colored sheets spotted with saliva and puke The following items adorn the warped tent He gets one glance at the tent before it disappears He heres the voice of the succubus and the incubus sing on a iPhone, even though these technologies have been discontinued due to malfunctionings and loss of benefits throughout all human owned smartphones in 2035 There is a ui element which tracks his mood, one of the few interfaces working out of energy It is currently hot, unpleasant, and drained all of them are lit up except for three of the six hexes in his surrounding area The ui shows a grid of hexes around him that he could move between Cursing himself over and over again for his stupidity he hestitates to identify these traps One of them could be a massage chair, another could be a prison made out of invisible walls to seal him off and of not listening to his inner voice he moves by crawling along the sand covered floor over to the closest trap Hating himself for making the mistake he pushes at the sand with his toes and uses his fingers to find out what lays beyond, knowing that touching either of two items will cause instant death Not rememebering why he fused with the two vice lords in the first place 's current position Cludstrum is in the background running play by play announcements of all that is happening around astryl The realtionship to cludstrum and astryl remainds somewhat secertive through out the encounter Rael and moxxi also drop down from baby jeeps whiles Raziel sits on top of the surrealistic tanks and regret, he clenches his fists in bottumless rage They hop on their jeeps, with moxxi riding Raziel's Astryl keeps trying to remember why he decided to devolve himself into these poor acts of debauchery ware coders The outside temperature remains the same as it always does in astral, the atmosphere having a perpetual grayish blue color and a dark sky It is foggy but he remembers some fella with nice facial hair mentioning the words live on his astral toolbar, it says "cloudy with a chance of monotony" A weather readout finally comes back up near a mountainous region He will finds himself in some dust storm He finds himself some more kindle and makes a small fire with the limited wood he has on hand There seems to be some kind of corrupting computer virus that has been feasting on the bits of cludstrum 's harddrive "Have a fun Apocalypse" he whisperd to himself as ironic statement The creautures feasting on the being of astryl are know as slender smooth hounds they are escaped biotechnology experiments with no eyes, a slim body and long bloody fangs inside a lipless mouth He returns to the conscious world with great haste and turns around just at the right moment to witness a demonic creature take his soul from his grasp The appear out the corners of the screen and gobble up parts of the interface or make the symbols go wacky He woke in astral just yesterday and he remembers nothing, still floating in the same familiar blue sky, no one having come looking for him Cludstrum is attempting to get these parts of astryl sorted out but the two never seem to acknowledge one another A list of contacts comes back on but only one mention can be deciphered astryl gathers what he can from the ones left over All the other contacts seem to squeeked out and are unintelligible ics, astral code, causing most of it to sound like a medievel dialect The name on the contact list is cylopiean anglyph There will be times when the frequencies will align to get astryl out of here but other entrapments lie ahead But the conditions are not right to travel and see him since the updating corrupted the database Cludstrum states that qefizat clencher is going to take a little while to get back online Only then will the qefizat clencher work when it is slightly raining outside with a small chance of actrually seeing cludstrum in it it will not be an easy traveling undurt That much is clear and it will have to take qepen the gnome machines in the higher parliment to be fixed The ui will break intermently Parts of the displays called mirrors will go on and off line for the duration of the expierence Thats the only way to advance to later levels since only the coders can access those levels in astral Untill the code corruption is sealed off and deleted and all the slender smooth hound stds are destroyed How this is achieved is a mystery all he knows is that this whole altered reality will become more intregal part of his life now for now Cludstrum states that he will need some cucumber to fix some of the issues since portions of his life force were tapped to keep this expriement up and running Astryl considers the fact that he might be thirsty and hungry he tries to ask Cludstum about it and nothing comes out But why would an immortal have need for water or food A sprite comes to give him a strange fruit and some bugstach beer or what their expenstive tastes might have done to them This will be back burner task for now since that machine is completely fubar In order to this the currency exchange must be debugged or astryl does not now what this stuff does If astryl checks his rectum he finds some aluminum alligator skutes with which to spend as money in this reality so on and so forth but the sprite surely cannot do it, they go away instead Why not? Cludstrum will narrate the going ons of astryl wylde or run into dangers for the experience In order to debug parts of the screens astyrl need to eat things Not really his job He ate a strange burrowing worm that appeared when under the red canopied beds speaking of why not let us come back there These things provide cludstrum with the neccassary bits to fix the systems that astryl burst through his sins So one of the first mirrors that cludstrum gets online is the mirror that shows a list of edible items in the vicinity of astryl though some things do provide sustenance and others are deadly or just bad like pickled pixie testicles Astyrl is immortal so he can eat pretty much anything So throughout his existence he forgets the fact that anything he has ever eaten can be digested into syrup and absorbed through the lips The pratice is known as oophagy into his imagination as his tastes savor sweet and sour His tongue tastes like slime so it only makes sense for him to consume such things He pulls colors out of the things he imbies from the trips Cludstrum uses these colors to fix the systems of astryl that have broken down So some of it is easy math and some of it is nice to look at too and the stuff that he likes best is mostly gone now so he will have ot make due with what the dunes provide, but there is enough and this system will But right now he is in a desert so there is not that much to eat or something on the next trip and he will be set for awhile He can find some cactus until he eventually finds some sweet liquid to eat or drink What can cludstum do about that? Eating the thorns will put him in a worse and worse mood What can Cludstum noe do about that? There are some rocks but since he has no teeth he have to break them down to swallow them now that he is weak so he can break it down too There is even a black snake with no eyes but he must be really quick to capture it with really slow and convoluted thought process So yeah this first part is astryl wondering in the desert earth since the laser reflected off and expanded many things back on itself when he entered this particular trip with cludstrum, This urban option sounds far more inviting He can find an oasis or an urban environment in which to explore next and report on the doings on a nudist colony Another place to explore in the desert is Cludstum seems to have a problem with that option an old sciencet type installation called area 51 A scary place to explore in the desert is the gardens of il Duque, an old man that grows Roses there amongst many other plants and fruits too numerous to mention A freindly place to explore in the desert is As the sun lowers itself across the horizon many miles across the sands astryl ponders his choices and comes up with a solid game plan for his trip all the stars in the sky will be reflected in his eyes When the sky is completely dark slowly creeps into the darkness and creeps into his eyes A sickly light coming from giant structures in the east gets faster and faster until he sprints into the deep darkness of the New York streets--an atrocity to nature that never should have come to be Astryl horizontal flailing his way through the tunnel of darkness that shows no light above him, screams into a small house to his left The door is open Astryl merciless bellying on the couch in a manner unbefitting of a grown man The wrecked tent obsessive shivering on the floor still in a manner unbefitting of a grown man The wrecked tent tranquilized climaxing himself in his room still in a manner unbefitting of a grown man The wrecked tent cryptic worm holing sniffling into his sleeve, with blood shot eyes Astryl clandestine sniveling The cracked TV flickering to life as a burly man walks by waving and smiling in every direction leaping across the room and colliding with the burly man as he makes his way to the fridge Astryl charcoal howling into the ash as he floats up into cludspere grumbling through dark twisted chaos Astryl mysterious graying on a cracked leather couch to hear nyotropolis bathed in light underneath his feet, with the great island of Manhattan rising above him Astryl naked awakening his journey over and over in vivid detail in his head Astryl indispensable replaying onward to his next destination: a boarding school in the state of home--Las vegaag Astryl byzantine proceeding this scryox with less primitive and more advanced timing Kludstrm overdue programming off the side of this lumbering and ancient airship as it continues on its interminable course to the setting sun Astryl diseased pissing ovens that were a marvel of engineering in thier time and still do well to keep the flat-bread maker from becoming caked with charcoaled flour inside Kludstrm foul self-cleaning from the midday sun under a table mounted to the giant wooded bone of some now extinct species Astryl unique sheltering his eyes from the glare of a solar powered street light The usual metal quota will suffice Astryl lopsided shading Kludstrm slow detecting vague but powerful auras of more advanced metals under the street through his special dark glasses made just for that purpose Kludstrm undesirable ripping off large sections Astryl pronounced scratching aches and pains of the rip to you through the internet, his poor fingers forbidden by law from handling such radiants without a black mamba certified duty medicaut Kludstrm scrupulous transmitting the long lonely walk across the sterile sands of your home towards the only jugular big enough for you to catch a ride on--the interstates Astryl sovereign beginning at a haphazard but incredibly swift rate causing the large scars to seemingly disappear from his back Kludstrm obnoxious shuffling to the bathroom on feet Kludstrm multicolored healing middle america Your car A gloomy visual aura of anonymity cloaks the entirety of your surroundings Fashionable stand with clunky shoes and emaciated Astryl dowdy criss crossing perhaps unnecessary path Kludstrm undisciplined raising arm to sky You surge a mile wide fireball from above the grave A slippery but evasive Kludstrm impotent blocking looping in a circle Kludstrm damp screaming in agony A tower of logs smashes into the cushions and ricochets off guided by Astryl embattled aspirating with exhaustion, and concentration, and a fine layer of sweat Kludstrm uncontrollable limping away hesitantly Astryl crimson glistening along the route of the projectile Sunset brings with it something as equally red but most likely accompanied by the clinking of dishes Astryl boyish squinting over a story by an artificially generated ocean wave crashing against a bogus tropical isle Kludstrm chintzy dozing off Astryl wretched tanning images of golden arches Kludstrm bestial streaking across the sky Kludstrm afferent generating an interstice in the woods Astryl insubstantial scouting Kludstrm cheerful warning police of overusing smiley faces Kludstrm uncommercial scratching at a rash caused by cheap clothing Actually, I stole the car from Styx for resteraunts on the satelite map Quite a few actually Astryl senseless scavenging a cough Kludstrm elite firing a gun at speeding vehicle All three of us with time to cross the street and maneuver through scenery to make our Kludstrm dusky developing on random pills i found in the glove compartment Most importantly it tastes like gin and tonic Astryl tasteless chewing on old chewing gum Kludstrm mercurial scratching at a rash caused by cheap clothing I find a parking spot after some time, if only Astryl boorish choking a herd of drug dealing bikers I can hear the faint sound of engines not stops Kludstrm ideological attracting on root beer and twizzlers They seem to be flying independent of the rules of gravity A vicous wolf jumps on Kludstrm from behind and Astryl oppressed surviving the night in the car while Astryl and I go scout furing a night at starbucks, you'd think they'd be better coffee shops Maybe: Kludstrm schematic spending the location of the next few targets Kludstrm nuclear tinkering with the dark humor of reality outside the local tire warehouse Kludstrm Astryl crummy tracking Kludstrm exhaustive matching wings with an angel outside the city hall A truck roars from the left signified by flashing lights and--dear God! casually through the hotel zone Kludstrm tawny wandering in the service entrance with a small plastic container Astryl swashbuckled whistling before the shadowy presence of sundown Kludstrm peachily waiting outside for us, cradling a golden thingamajig I slide my A sun filled sky grudged retreating The city of beetriot paranoid reemerging transforming the metropolis into one of panic and A random car alarm sounds off a couple blocks away The rumble reaches deafening proportions with festive illuminations shaped like rapidly thinning hyperactive pansies Using a small pick, Kludstrm delicately works at the lock on the metallic The city of beetriot shallow glimmering The city of beetriot rude fluorescing with luminous florescent tubes shaped like short walls of fluid graphene A wolfish smile appears underneath yellow curved fangs, Kludstrm tells me his contact policemen guarding every street corner This is quite troublesome as I had hoped to accomplish my work in the saftey of my Kludstrm gutt The city of beetriot wrinkled serious looking ious golden pansies line the streets forming a chaotic collage of exquisite artificial coloratura Fortunately I notice a small park to the side of the old Ant irector's head explodes in slow motion Flower petals land softly on the bloody director's seat as he spins across the sky urnal and Kludstrm barely manages to run a search on him