#to die a monster at the hands of his brother - whether they win or not. (either in the big fight or he gets put down for being a bloodsucki

[ghostpajamas]

damocles ; sword perspective

uncropped + detail closeups

[ananke-xiii]

The natural order is absent fathers.

I’ve been trying to understand what the heck “natural order” means in Supernatural until I’ve finally realized I was giving it too much thought than necessary because it was much simpler than what I had in mind: the natural order in Supernatural is…. Supernatural from s1 to s3.

I can explain.

First of all, the natural order is an “arrangement”:

EVE: You misunderstand me. I never wanted that. Not at first. I liked our arrangement. SAM: What arrangement? EVE: The natural order. My children turned a few of you, you hunted a few of them. I was happy.

Eve turns up in s6 after s4-5 madness and she’s unhappy: the arrangement has been broken. This leads me to think that the key-factor in keeping the natural order alive and well is honoring deals. When Crowley starts crossing boundaries in s6 Eve steps up to put him back in his place. However, she doesn’t realize who her real enemy is until it was too late for her. As always, the enemy of the natural order, the breaker of deals, the one you cannot expect to keep his word, the snake in the grass is our very Castiel.

Billie shares Eve's storyline. She’s also unhappy about the discombobulation of the natural order and she takes it on the Winchesters and then later on specifically on Dean. What's more, with Billie we see that uncontrolled resurrections without deals are a real problem for her. She fails to realize who her mortal enemy is twice: once when she’s a reaper and Castiel stabs her in the back and in so doing he’s breaking a stupid deal; the second time when they die together in s15. This time, though, they die because Cas is honoring a deal, but he’s doing it on his own terms, not waiting around wondering what true happiness is but taking matter into his own hands.  Although I have things to say about how happiness is framed in “Despair”, I’ve got to admit that, in its own convoluted way, it was a badass move.

Interestingly, when it comes to Chuck we don’t see the same respect and passion for the natural order that Eve and Billie seem to share. This is also where I think the writers sort of dropped the ball. In s11 it was established that Chuck had created nature and then nature “created on its own”. Here he seems to respect nature and calls it “divine”. In “The Trap”, however, he says the following things:

SAM: It'll be better. It'll be better. It'll be better. If we win – When we win – When we beat you, I will make it better! CHUCK: You can't, Sam. You, Sam Winchester, have been playing fast and loose with the laws of nature and magic for a very long time – you and your brother. Always breaking the rules. And that's what I love about you, Sam. It's so heroic. It's so...Promethean. But there's still so much about the fabric of the universe that you don't know... that you can't know. 'Cause you're only humans. But I'm God. Think about what I showed you. Look beyond the Mark, beyond you and Dean fanging out – heartbreaking, but not the headline news. SAM: The monsters. CHUCK: The monsters. CHUCK: Without me, it's a law of nature – dark forces prevail, monsters rule, and you, your brother, and everyone you love will die. Can you really live with that?

First of all I find it fascinating that Chuck, of all people, likes Sam and Dean precisely because they break the rules (but then he can't stand Castiel, looool, much to think about). He’s eventually angry at them because they don’t follow his script but he’s ultimately invested in these characters to such a degree that he calls them “Promethean”. Now, lol because didn’t Prometheus die, like, in s8 or something? But also: Prometheus is the hero who got impaled on the mountains of Caucasus because he defied Zeus (*cough* like *cough* Dean Winchester*cough*). So whether Chuck likes their "heroism" or not he only likes it up to a certain point (and this certain point is when their actions reveal his secret desires for self-destruction but that's for another day). For sure he wickedly enjoys when he vicariously breaks the rules and the natural order arrangement via Sam and Dean's actions. Not so much when it's Castiel who inserts himself into the fabrics of his story.

Secondly, “without me, it’s a law of nature”. What does that mean? I promised I wasn’t gonna go too philosophical so I went for the simpler route. If we leave aside the “dark forces” and “monsters rule” shit, what Chuck is saying is basically that without him the natural order will prevail. Which should be a good thing, right? Right?! Which also means that he himself is as much of a disruptor of the natural order as Castiel (oh-oh). Just like Billie, Chuck likes breaking the rules only when he or one of this favorite characters break them. Unlike Castiel and the Winchesters, however, he’s on a different plane of knowledge (therefore power) because there’s so much more about the fabrics of the universe that they can’t know but he can. After all, he is God and he (according to SPN) has created nature itself. So what’s Chuck’s signature on this "divine" masterpiece? What are the foundations of the natural order? I think the answer can be found in “Free to be You and Me”:

DEAN: The hell did you do? CASTIEL: I don't know. I just looked her in the eyes and told her it wasn't her fault that her father Gene ran off. It was because he hated his job at the post office. DEAN: Oh, no, man. CASTIEL: What? DEAN: This whole industry runs on absent fathers. It's, it's the natural order.

That’s it, that’s the natural order according to Supernatural: it’s about absent fathers. It’s on their absence that “this whole industry” runs. Which not so incidentally is also the premise of Supernatural and, like, the whole plot of the first two seasons (and beyond but I'm talking "Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home for a few days" type of absent father, that is John Winchester).

So if my understanding is correct, it’s accurate to say that Billie won in the finale because the natural order was re-established: nobody is resurrected, they all eventually die and Sam and Dean go on a hunt guided by their absent father’s journal, something we haven’t seen in ages, on a case that John himself had worked on something like maybe 20 years prior? Which is what they did in the first seasons of the show. They even meet a vampire from S1 who was there to signal precisely that: they're back in the past, only not in a positive way because it's a fictional past. A past with a mask.

Yes, the natural order is just the past through rose-colored glasses, a “let’s go back to the fun times of season 1-3 before all that angels-and-god-non-sense”. Which is technically possible but practically anachronistic. These two men are not in their 20s anymore, they're fully grown adults who've been through... let's just say a lot. It's a glorification of youth and a "forever young"ism that I find quite worrying. Moreover, with these premises Castiel couldn’t ever come back because, together with Chuck, he was one of the main disturbers of the natural order, aka the way Supernatural was before S4. Chuck's mistake was precisely inserting himself into the narrative because, in so doing, The Father is no longer absent while he must stay so according to the rule of the natural order. That's the arrangement. Chuck and Castiel's narrative fates are thus weirdly knotted together because the arrangement excludes deal-breakers/father-figures like them. Ironically, the ultimate absent father is not God but John Winchester, period. His absence is Order. It's the Law, aka what gives meaning to reality.

The implications of the finale are problematic because why on earth would you end your series like that? It's not even a positive "full-cycle" moment, it's just sad and uncanny in the freudian sense of the word. I know and understand that Dabb was working on his retelling so that we could all go back to the beginning but what is the point to go back without growth? Or to go back and then die? Or to go back and just leave? To me it doesn't make sense from a storytelling pov. I repeat, why would the people involved in this series decide to go down that road I cannot know. I suspect that they took the emotional, fake-happy ending road because Covid had destroyed the world as we know it so maybe they opted for an ending that would comfort people ("comfort" in the sense that's familiar to people, it follows an established path that's recognizable and doesn't destabilize them, which, for the record, I think they failed to do). Or maybe the intent was precisely the uncanny, that feeling of something disturbing and unsettling in what should be familiar and comfortable for us. As in: the story ends like it began, nothing has really changed and everything can only get resolved in the after-life. True happiness is not in the having, it's in just being (dead in Heaven with your brother). I don't know, two things can be true at the same time, but I'm not gonna lie I smell traditionalism, conservatism and heroism as a cult of death that's very Ur-fascist.

Not that anybody has asked for this but, unlike Eve and Billie, I’m actually quite happy because I’ve managed to find an answer to one of my own questions.

[synxxie]

Here's part 2 of 'What if Belos Won' I hope you all like it!

Also bit of a warning that there is a character death in this part so if you don't want to cry then uh sorry lol.

A day passed and it was now time to go to the portal and take back the Demon Realm and kill any witches who stood in his way. His influence on Hunter was already becoming evident and the boy had no idea of it yet. Luz and Hunter were now trying to get the map to the portal first so that they can surprise their girlfriends and flapjack the very cute, very nice, red bird (sry about this) had the job of getting the map but the bird wouldn't listen so Belos had to take over very temporarily “Get the map!” he shouted at the bird finally causing it to listen and steal the map from the pink haired witch. “What the heck?!” Luz yelled questionably at Hunter, rightfully so too, he was never like this. “I- I don't know why I did that.” The bird returned, map in its talons. “Thanks Flapjack, sorry I yelled at you.” As the two stood up to go and meet with the rest of the kids Belos needed to steer them in the right direction so he whispered in Hunter's mind to go into the forest. Hunter was confused but he and Luz went into the forest and towards the portal, Hunter taking the lead. The walk was tense as Belos continued taking control over Hunter’s mind, Hunter was struggling to fight him back but it would end up being futile.

*In Hunter's Mind*

“Ahh, failed grimwalker. Did you know that bird of yours belonged to a witch way back in my day? She seduced my brother with her wicked spells and forced my hand. Now I will take over your body, you won't need it for where I need to go. Hand it over willingly or this will be so much more painful.” Belos menacingly said a short speech, as he seemed to love doing. The version of Belos in this mind was that of the emperor in order to instill even more fear in Hunter. Who was indeed terrified but stood his ground to keep his mind. “I'm not afraid of you any more, Belos. My friends won't let you win, even if you do take my mind. I'd rather die than let you hurt them!” Hunter so bravely exclaimed thinking that he could stop the unstoppable. He should have chosen his last words better. “Hm, you'd rather die?” Belos asked, taking a step forward, seeping green goop where his foot last was, beginning the infection. Hunter stepped back in fear, looking up at the looming threat with widened eyes. “I- I-. Stay back!” He yelled and stuttered. Belos only smiled, slowly walking closer and reaching his hand out to grab the boy, each step seeping more and more of Belos into the kid's mind. Hunter attempted his ‘power of friendship’ magic but it was futile, he teleported behind Belos and attempted to run away but the emperor just quickly turned and extended his arm into the goopy green monster length. Violently taking ahold of him and pulling Hunter back towards the emperor. “Here I was thinking you would put up more of a fight, however in the end you died as pitifully as the rest of them. Thank you for the body.” Belos then went inside of Hunter's body, completing the possession.

*Back outside of Hunters mind*

Luz’s mind was elsewhere, thinking more about what she's going to say to her friends and what Amity is going to do rather than notice the sudden fixed posture and heavy walk of the Belos possessed Hunter. “We're here. Now to just find a way across.” Belos said through the boy's mouth, Luz almost immediately grabbed one of her glyphs as she was testing the power of them as they walked. It was an ice glyph and she created a bridge across the water surrounding the portal. They both walked across and began looking for the blood. Belos needed Luz alive only until she found the blood, afterwards it didn't matter to him whether she was alive or dead but preferred if she was dead. It took an hour but Belos managed to find it first, with no help from the bird of course who was nowhere to be seen. Luz did see it fly back to where the others were but assumed Hunter just wanted to get the others to come along. Belos didn't know this. He grabbed a small vial and filled it with the Titan blood, holding it in his hand tightly and walking to be in front of the portal. Luz noticed this and walked over next to ‘Hunter’ unaware of the possession. “You found it? Nice, now let's go get Amity and the others. I saw Flapjack already flying to get them so we can meet them halfway.” She turned to go back across the ice bridge, her back now facing Belos who smiled seeing the opportunity in front of him. Hunter's body changed, adding horns and streaks of green, rotting goop across his face. He stepped forward, his arm changing into a sharp point. “I am afraid I cannot let you go and get them, Luz the human.” Now it was blatantly clear that this was not Hunter. He thrusted his arm forwards and stabbed Luz in the back, luckily for Luz it missed all vital organs somehow, causing her to let out a forced breath and collapse to the floor. She then began to scream for Amity and her mother. Belos turned away as he saw Flapjack fly back, knowing the children wouldn't be too far away he threw the vial on the ground of the portal. The vial broke and the Titan blood opened the portal just as the rest of the kids and Camila stood at the other end of the ice bridge, all of them in a short state of shock from seeing Luz just lying there unconscious. Amity was the first to snap out of it and ran to hold on to Luz as Belos walked through the portal. The rest of them joined Amity shortly after, each one letting out tears, Camila and Amity more so as they realized that they were unable to call an ambulance. Flapjack flew over and layed on Luz's stomach. The palisman then started to glow a bright yellow light before disappearing and the light absorbing itself into Luz, the wound got healed and after a few seconds she woke up. “Where's Hunter?” She asked quietly, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

Part 3???

[twilightmalachite]

Altered - Angels and Devils 12

Author: Akira

Characters: Hiyori, Eichi, Tsumugi, Nagisa

Translator: Mika Enstars

"You’re obscene. I’m not happy you’re fond of it, Eichi-kun. It’s like finding a dead frog inside my birthday cake."

Season: Spring

Location: Yumenosaki Academy Auditorium (LIVE)

⚠️ This is an import from a unproofed Twitter Livetweet!

One week later, at the Yumenosaki Academy auditorium, fine’s debut live…

Hiyori: I have a feeling I’ve been completely set up!

Look’s like the Five Eccentrics have been invited to fine’s debut live as a guest!

Eichi: Do you have a problem with that? You seem very dissatisfied.

Hiyori: To look so happy in the face of a losing battle, you must be a fool or idiot, or a traitor who is getting along with the enemy.

Eichi: Oya, do you lack the confidence to win against the Five Eccentrics? Preparing to lose even before the fight, are you?

This isn’t like you to be saying something like that, who’s always bursting with confidence and claiming to be the best of the best.

Hiyori: I came here in the first place instead of running away because being provoked like that pisses me off so much.

Which is exactly why I feel like I was set up. You’ve always been this way, Eichi-kun.

Is it fun to play with others in the palm of your hand like this?

You are vile.

Eichi: Fufu, despite being constantly deceived and humiliated by me, you never fail to take me up on my provocations, though.

Does that make you a very dumb person, or perhaps even a very good-natured person?

Hiyori: I should be there for this “pathetic child” of a companion at the very least.

If anything, me being here for you is what’s preventing you from poisoning any other innocent person who doesn't know any better.

I’m doing what I can to protect everyone. It’s my duty as a noble.

Ah, how wonderful I am! To step up to be a sacrifice myself to the evil monster!

Eichi: I truly applaud you for that. You have the ability to do anything you put yourself to, and yet you’re always giving yourself up to somebody else. Whether it be to me, or your big brother, huh?

A benevolent protector of his people, a way of life truly worthy of being called a noble.

Not one akin to a dignified knight, but a life more like a princess from an old-fashioned fairy tale.

Like sacrificing yourself for your house. Very antiquated.

Hiyori: What’s wrong with devoting yourself to what you love? If anything, I pity you who cannot find a companion to devote yourself to in such a way!

Eichi: Fufu, that’s right. You’ve always been the only one who’d feel sorry for me.

Me, the heir to the Tenshouin Zaibatsu, one of the worlds largest mega-conglomerates.

You see through to true natures and pity, even if you despise them.

The clarity you have of it all is sometimes too advantageous for me to bear.

Hiyori: You’re obscene. I’m not happy you’re fond of it, Eichi-kun. It’s like finding a dead frog inside my birthday cake.

Eichi: Okay. I fundamentally hate you as a person. There, feel better?

Tsumugi: How can you guys carry on such a vicious conversation with such cheerful smiles on your faces?

Eichi: Aristocrats have to be capable of separating their innermost thoughts from their surface. Isn’t that right, Hiyori-kun?

The life of a noble is but an endless masquerade, where we exchange extravagant rhetoric while masks hide our true faces.

Tsumugi: I may not fully get it, but it sounds like even the rich have rough times…

Just, let’s not be so tense. Not only is it our propitious debut live, but Nagisa-kun is frightened too.

Nagisa: …Mhm. I’m, a little scared.

…Sorry. I’m, not used to such raw emotions, from other people.

…I’m, a tad dazed. I mean, a little disoriented.

Hiyori: Ahh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Everything’s okay, alright, Nagisa-kun? I just want Eichi-kun to die early is all, I don’t mean any harm towards you one bit, ‘kay!

Eichi: Isn’t it because you pamper Nagisa-kun like that his personality will remain the same like an infant, never weaned from his mother?

Hiyori: I will not forgive you for bad-mouthing Nagisa-kun and I!

Eichi: You guys are as close as ever.

Eichi: (And that’s why I can move Hiyori-kun, and Nagisa-kun will move following suit, and vice versa.)

(Not only that, but while I do not know if it is a blessing or a curse… To me, Hiyori-kun is a childhood friend, who I have known for many years.)

(I know exactly where to hit him, and how he will react. Hiyori-kun strives to be someone of simple design, and he adheres to that character of his.)

(He will not bend his way of life for the sake of his pride.)

(He has no flexibility. But that is exactly the vulnerability I need to manipulate him, someone who is greater and smarter than I am to begin with.)

(Yes, at first I wasn’t sure how it would go, but fine appears to work exactly the way I wish it to.)

(The problem is however, that the Five Eccentrics are out of my control. No matter what angle I look at it from, I don’t think I can manipulate them…)

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[bafflement]

RWBY and the protector god archetype

The one thing we really learned in season 9 was that the god of dark and the god of light have a history of leaving others to do the work they should have done themselves. Just look at the Cat as an example. They left the ever after to become gods to worlds they created, after all... but all they were looking for was the slightest excuse to leave.

The brothers are sort of... flaky. They come, create things, then disappear again as soon as their creations dare to disagree with them. They hold themselves to rules they themselves enforce, as though they see everything as a game. Which considering the tree created them, might not be entirely inaccurate. They, for gods, might be very young and very immature. After all, that was never their original purpose.

But they left Remnant to the Grimm and Salem and didn't do a thing to protect it. They killed off humanity entirely, knowing it would return but not really caring what would happen when they did.

So you have a single, cursed human wandering a very much empty world, learning to control the Grimm to have some sort of friends... and no longer caring what happens to humanity when they make that inevitable re-emergence. All Salem has wanted for countless centuries is to die, after all...

And then they grant her wish. Sort of. They bring Ozma back, charged with uniting - but not protecting - humanity. All they bother telling him is that he wll be bought back in such a way as that he's never alone, so when he finds that Salem is still around, he thinks 'I was meant to go back.' Which, of course, ends in tragedy, she can never be the woman he remembers after all.

But. But he wanders, after Salem kills Ozma 2.0. Sometimes he sinks into despair, sometimes he runs away, but that spark inside never truly dies out. Ozma was, and will always be a warrior, after all.

He gives the maidens their powers, maybe with a failsafe, maybe not. He passes out his own power because he no longer feels worthy of it.

Then he looks out, sees the Faunus and Humanity both struggling against... dying against... the Grimm. They can't protect themselves, they haven't got magic or powers or really any defence. So he grants them that power. Looks deep inside each of them, human and faunus alike and grants them the ability to create auras. 'You gave us magic!" They say, and he can only sigh and tell them they have a semblance of magic, not the real thing. But it's enough, it has to be enough.

Then he rests, hoping his magic will recover and it... does. Sort of, but not fully. It's in too many hands now, after all and no matter how much he wishes his power back, that everybody else is protected is far more important than whether he is. He'll come back, they won't.

Eventually, he wakes up in the body of a prince... and knows he can't hide who and what he is anymore. A prince running away and becoming a hermit isn't actually that plausible, after all. By then, he's asked the questions of the relics... knows he can never defeat Salem. But some evil never dies and as long as the world has hope, that has to be enough.

He tells a few of his advisors the truth of what he is. That he's the infinite man, that that rather embarrassing fairy tale has more than a grain of truth. To watch for the next one, because he never stays dead forever, whether that wait be months or decades. He tries to warn them that whoever he is next could be anyone at all, not even necessarily a warrior. They don't listen.

So he wins his war, knowing it's not truly the one that matters. Knowing it never will be, because if Salem had a hand in this one at all, it was unseen. As invisible as she ever is, like smoke in the wind.

But she is evil, will always be evil. So he founds the hunters academies and prays that those being trained to fight the darkness will realise that Salem is a monster, too.

Then he dies, a few decades after winning the war. Sinking down under the premature weight of the years he's lived and the lifetimes he has not. His advisors start to scan the four kingdoms for his successor. It's a long wait.

Finally a fragile child emerges. Maybe he's a native Vale resident, maybe he isn't. Maybe he's a runaway, a lost boy. Maybe he's a kidnap victim. But whoever and whatever he is, all they see is the fragility. The health issues, the limp, the sheer frailness of the child's shaking limbs. They're... not happy.

Because they expected a warrior and got a child who's probably never even picked up a weapon before. That doesn't know how to fight, to protect himself, much less anyone else. But his soul burns with a light too bright to look at directly. His determination to be more than just 'the next Ozma' pushes him to excel. If only he could remember what that 'more' was... if only he truly knew his own name.

But he persists. The gentle soul, who loves everybody and believes in everybody, whether human or faunus. Who sees the good in every soul and never the evil beneath. Who believes everybody can be saved. Except Salem [and maybe Jaques Schnee, even if he doesn't remember why]. Who is so easily taken and controlled and moulded and manipulated. That sound? Is the first crack in the child. The first sign of the shattering to come.

He grows up too fast, forced to become a Huntsman so young that it would be laughable anywhere else. Is laughable, a twelve year old should be studying at Signal, not out fighting monsters on the whims of the adults in his life. And yet, there he stands and there he fights and nobody ever asks if he wants to. Because of course he does, right? Nobody would give a child that young a licence if he hadn't proven himself?

Then there is one too many close calls. One too many accidents... one too many risks. Much though those in control hate this fragile child, they also know just how long it took to find him. They need another option.

Then they look to their own academy. To a head that's bowing under the weight, that's tired and think 'ah, opportunity.' So they install the small, fragile child as the headmaster, locking him up in the clocktower to remind him of the passage of time. Casual cruelties like that have become their bread and butter, after all.

The child is too beaten down, too weary to protest. Though he wrings a concession out of them, just the one. That Faunus be allowed to attend, too. No more bigotry, no more hatred. This little boy who should loathe them all still loves them far too much for that, even now.

So he stands, at fifteen, as headmaster. They fudge the numbers, add four years to his age and order him to dress older than he actually is. To a fifteen year old boy with millennia worth of experience in the back of his head, mature is a suit. Is changing out the glasses he needs for a medical condition for a set that make him look older. Is makeup to give the shadow of stubble to his jaw, concentrating on making all his words sound painfully polite, standing so straight they might have glued a sword to his back. At first, at least. He carries a mug everywhere, pretends it's coffee, not the cocoa that's comforting and familiar [and he doesn't know why, can't remember, it doesn't matter, right?], smiles and pretends. Most people buy it.

[That first faunus at Beacon, by the way, is a twenty one year old Leonardo Lionheart. He's admitted late because he couldn't have been admitted at all until then. He swears loyalty to the new headmaster, all five foot seven of him. Eventually, they'll all know just what that oath is worth.]

Team STRQ is suspicious. Well, Summer is suspicious and the Branwen twins, jumpy, wary of being discovered, follow her in that. Taiyang sees silver hair and those glasses and assumes he is older. But then, that's Taiyang all over.

Then he slips up. Gets a reference he shouldn't one too many times, moves like the teen he is instead of the adult he pretends to be. Hits a growth spurt and gains a foot in height in the course of eight months. Most people assume it's just a late growth, people have them, after all. Glynda looks at him and wonders. Summer, Raven and Qrow look at him and know. See him for who he is and start to befriend him. Sometimes violently so, they're not taking no for an answer, Tai, confused, is dragged along for the ride.

When he breaks, in the end, and tells them the truth of his age? Tai is the only one to be surprised. There are threats towards the Vale council, though he works hard to convince them not to go through with them. His loyalties may be misplaced, but he has them nonetheless.

Then team STRQ graduates. Team GILD, too, Glynda, Ironwood, Lionheart, Demarco. They go out to fight monsters and leave him all alone in that gilded cage the council placed him in. Glynda comes back, decides teaching is the better option, after her team loses a member and Ironwood decides that a career in the military is more important. Lionheart disappears, for now, but he truly believes he can trust them, his first teams. He is halfway right.

Summer vanishes, out on a mission that Tai and Raven seem to blame him for. He's never certain just what the mission was, knows he never gave her it, but how to you argue against the dead? It's his fault after all, it always is. The cracks grow longer, wider, glowing with a viridian light the same electric green as his aura. He doesn't notice.

He throws himself into running the school, protecting the students. Recommends LIonheart and Ironwood and a friend he's met since called Theodore as heads of the other academies. Hopes that, eventually, Tai and Raven will stop hating him. Tai does, Raven does not. But then, the Branwens know how to hold a grudge.

Then Salem, finally, makes her move. Beacon falls and he falls with it, his life for his students, always. He might return, but they never will.

And, of course, Cinder Fall breaks her word. That, too, is inevitable.

He wakes up in the back of Oscar's head and part of him weeps. Surely this one, at least, should be an adult? Should be mature and able to make their own choice? But no, of course not. He has to work with what he's given, but this one? This one he can try to save, at least?

Then the relics happen. The others ask the one question he never wanted them to and Jinn, as all of the relics do, gives a half answer. Sows division. She's been bound to the relic too long and, just like the others, all she really wants to do is rest.

Qrow, telling him that meeting him was the worst luck of his life. Flying into shards and hiding himself away in the hope that by doing so, he might be able to fade completely. To let Oscar be himself instead of just the next Ozma.

Then Oscar needs him. That protective instinct glues the shards of him back together enough to help. Even as he does so, he knows that the merge is becoming more complete, more real... that he can't stop it happening. He hates himself all over again. He takes most of the torture for Oscar, for all that he lets the boy believe that he hasn't done so. He deserves it, after all. Oscar doesn't.

They blow up the whale, knowing it won't kill Salem, but hoping it might get her annoyed enough not to follow for awhile.

The relics betray them again, team RWBY and Jaune fall into the Ever After. There are things there that they need to know, after all... that he needs to know, too. Hopefully they'll tell him.

Salem has two of the relics. Cinder used the charges for both, she wants to be the one true power on Remnant. Salem is reaping what she sowed.

The remaining group travel to Vacuo. It's hard there, proving they belong, that they deserve to survive. Headmaster Theodore blinks at Oscar, sees both him and the other soul... and wonders, will that be enough. After all, everybody knows about the witch now. But they don't know about the wizard.

The staff is recognised. There's a lot of confusion and the fear that Glynda might slap Oscar for a second or two, but they get over that. He stays quiet, watching those he called his friends. Scared to truly trust them.

Then those they lost return with a tale that he can't quite believe... if the gods were created by the tree, if the tree is the origin... then what does that make his curse? Salem's curse? Ruby and Yang go to find Raven, he's too busy trying to work out how to find the tree. He has so many questions.

The relics are united, the gods return. They want to condemn Remnant but Ruby gets the blacksmith involved. They take one look at Oscar, tut and spilt him back into two.

So now there are two, confused looking teenaged boys. One darker skinned, dark haired, hazel eyed. The other paler, all silver and gold. Neither of them are totally seperate, they'll always be linked, but they're both so very grateful to be themselves again. Then they make a mistake, call each other brother, and the blacksmith's eyes light up.

The tree knows everything Ozma has ever done for humanity and the faunus. And they know just how many mistakes the brothers have made. They elevate him to godhood without listening to his horrified protests, give him his magic back and the ability to deal with Salem and set him loose.

He teaches Salem what death is, slowly, patiently, and thus frees her in the end. He brings back Pyrrha, brings back Penny. Refuses to bring back Lionheart or Ironwood. They're rather confused, staring at the glowing teenager who seems so familiar, yet at the same time so much larger than the rest of the world.

He wanders, again. Doing good where he can, stays in contact with Ruby and Oscar, then their decendants. That's happiness. Of a sort. He never stops looking for Qrow, once old age takes him. Sometimes he finds him, sometimes he doesn't. But then, that's okay, too.

[onbearfeet]

Episode 6

Welp. We made it.

As predicted by multiple commenters, Ep 5 was the trauma-heavy one, and Ep 6 was lighter in comparison--mostly plot and a wee bit of character development. And also a CGI fight sequence I choose to describe as "Kaiju, but also Egyptomania".

Marc's reunion with Steven was well-done. Again, my big fear is DID being monsterized, and this was the opposite of that, so well and good. I would have added a line about Marc expecting to die when he gave the heart to Steven, but ehhhh. It's fine. Probably.

I'm not sure highlighting the difference between Khonshu and Ammit as a minor theological squabble was the right move, writing-wise, especially since the whole thing boils down to an argument about free will vs. destiny while 1) that is an argument that nobody really wins in contemporary media and 2) Moon Knight might be the single worst Marvel hero to involve in that discussion. Oh, well. Still rhetorically clearer than FATWS.

Layla's turn as an avatar was fun, although it did get me and roomie arguing about whether she was too similar to Wonder Woman. (I maintain that if Marc is Marvel Batman and Layla is Marvel Wonder Woman, that just makes their relationship WonderBat, which I enjoy immensely, so SHUSH.)

Marc's decision not to kill Harrow was ... interesting? Weird? I dunno, this kind of seemed like a valid use case for Marc VERY occasionally killing someone, what with the apocalypse and all. I get the reasoning behind Marc choosing not to kill anyone at the climax, but it fell a bit flat for me that his actual proposed solution was just...leaving?

Okay, Jake. Let's talk about Jake, because on the one hand, I did get to hear Oscar Isaac speak Spanish, and on the other, eek.

So one last bit of Kat's Dead Brother Lore (and please remember that if you are shitty about him, the bears will eat you): he had at least one alter that I never met but that was, by all accounts, a fucking nightmare. Nearly took my dad out with a carpet knife once. (I am not saying Dad didn't say or do something to deserve it, mind you. But in context, he could have just loomed over my brother by accident in the wrong moment. This alter was not a discerning soul.) According to my brother's best guess, this alter, whom I'll call S because fuck if I'm saying his name when I'm not even saying my bro's, came into being to absorb abuse from his biological parents and, eventually, to protect him and his younger bio-bro from said abuse. Everything I heard about S aligned with what I later experienced with one of MY biological siblings, sometimes referred to on here as my ex-brother. My ex-bro checks all the boxes for psychopathy and is the main reason I have PTSD. So with all that context, I'm prepared to call S a scary motherfucker.

And yes, S is why my brother died in prison. He did something horrifying. I will not elaborate beyond saying that nobody died, and that's probably why no one tried to death-penalty my brother.

Anyway. Jake.

Jake reminds me of S in some ways, although he's obviously much more organized, at least with Khonshu directing him. He's also, uh, MUCH more comfortable with lethal violence than S ever seemed to be. The people S hurt were usually people he perceived, rightly or wrongly, as threats. There were an awful lot of bodies in that hallway that I doubt could have been interpreted as threats to Marc or Steven.

That leads me to an interesting place, emotionally. Maybe it's because I'm used to thinking of my brother as a victim in many ways, but if Jake originated as a protector for Marc and Steven--someone who took the worst of the abuse at first and maybe did the worst of the violence later on--then his continued willingness to work for Khonshu might be another layer of self-victimization.

Put simply, Marc was willing to destroy himself for Steven. Is Jake doing the same for Marc? Perhaps making a private deal with Khonshu to let the other two go so easily? Does Jake see himself as an acceptable loss for his brothers' freedom? Has Khonshu manipulated Jake even more profoundly than he did Marc?

I dunno. I've seen fanfics writing Jake as a mysterious, "evil" alter, but there isn't enough in one scene to say whether the story itself is monsterizing Jake. I'd be interested to know if a fanfic writer has portrayed Jake as essentially Khonshu's latest victim. (Not sure I'd have the fortitude to read that, but I'd like to know if it exists.)

Okay. Not a perfect show, and it was a near thing getting through it, but I think I'm glad I did.

Oh, and now roomie wants to watch WBN and Daredevil with me because he's enjoying the comics facts, so that's fun.

That's all for now, folks. Russell the Emotional Support Werewolf thanks you for your attention.

Kat watches Moon Knight

Okay, so with the encouragement of several people on here and the emotional support of my roommate, I have finally (in February 2024) started watching Moon Knight, a show whose basic concept scares the shit out of me.

Context: I had an adopted older brother with DID. Note that I said "had". That's past tense because life treated him so appallingly poorly that he died (horribly, in prison) when I was 19. Part of that abuse was enabled by pop-culture depictions of DID in the 1980s and 90s that convinced everyone who knew about his condition (including the court system) that he was a walking time bomb.

One of my earliest memories is of my brother as a young adult, playing Super Mario Bros with my toddler self. Another is of him patiently teaching me how to make friends with a large dog. I never met any of his alters, afaik; I was small and cute and safe for him to be himself with, so he probably didn't need them around me. He was a profoundly gentle man when he was allowed, and it hurt like hell to see him turned into a monster in movies and on TV. I've turned off a lot of "psychological thrillers" in sorrow and disgust.

Ironically, I loved Moon Knight comics as a kid in the 90s, BEFORE he was retconned to have DID circa the mid-2000s. Because those comics came out right after my brother died in 2002 and leaned HARD into making people with DID seem like violently unstable monsters (for reference, see the cover of Moon Knight: God and Country), I stopped reading them around 2008, when I couldn't take being poked in the trauma by a comfort character anymore.

But I do love Werewolf By Night, and there's been a lot of good fic mashing Jack up with Moon Knight without dehumanizing anyone, and several people have encouraged me to try the show. So this post will be a place for my thoughts as I try to work my way through with my Essential Editions in one hand and my memories of my brother in the other. I'll add to it as I watch.

If this entertains the Moon Knight fandom or provides useful fic reference, so be it. Just don't be jerks on my post.

Also, anyone who chooses to be shitty about my brother will be eaten by bears. I don't make the rules.

Episode 1

Okay, we open with Steven as our POV character, and he's...convinced he's a sleepwalker. All right, not terrible. Steven is now a bumbling nerd, which is probably an improvement; good luck making a billionaire playboy sympathetic in the 2020s. Jake would be the logical everyman POV from the comics, but I understand from fic that he's got a different role now. I'm confused about the accent, but it's only episode 1, and Steven clearly doesn't yet know who Khonshu is, or that Marc exists, so obviously there's a ways to go here. (Is Marc ... undercover inside Steven? Ugh, this is a trope I have seen and do not like.)

Did Marc kill Steven's fish? Did Khonshu kill Steven's fish? I'm baffled by the fish. Which is a nice break from the larger anxiety. I'm gonna try to worry more about the fish.

The bits with Steven losing time and finding himself in odd situations were distressingly close to the old tropes, but both of those happened to my brother, so I'm not going to bitch about them quite yet. I want to be as fair as I can.

Oh, hey, I recognize Harrow from the comics. What up, dude. How's the cult biz treating you?

The end of the episode, with the jackal thing chasing Steven into the bathroom, came RIGHT up to the line for me. I realized that what I was most afraid of was that the story would assign "good" and "bad" labels to the alters--make Steven the sweet, innocent one and Marc (or maybe Jake, I guess) the monstrous killer. The early flashes of Steven covered in blood didn't really help allay that anxiety. And now Marc is demanding that Steven let him have control in a pretty threatening manner. But so far, it seems like the contrast between Marc and Steven is one of competence--Marc is better at fighting and Steven is better at ... panicking? Unclear. At least Oscar Isaac is playing the protagonist, so his character(s) might remain sympathetic. Nobody has been monsterized quite yet.

I finished the episode with every muscle in my body locked up, waiting for the emotional punch in the face. But I did finish it, and I think I'm gonna try episode two.

[ultimatedemonsimp]

It's come to my attention that there is not a lot of t-word content on Obey Me! And as a member of both communities, I am expected to provide what is lacking. This has MC as a switch.

Obey Me! Shall We Date? Tickle headcanons!

Lucifer

Whether you want to believe it or not, he didn't get into tickle fights much.

That being said, when he did, he was a ruthless ler through and through.

He didn't get involved because none of the brothers, not even Mammon, are dumb enough to provoke him.

Then MC comes along.

With their lack of self preservation instincts and common sense, provoking Lucifer into tickle fights, no matter how one sided they are, becomes almost a daily occurrence.

Finds himself now beginning to identify more as a ler-leaning-switch.

Main spots are his shoulder blades, sides, ribs, and hips. Rough tickles get the loudest responses, though reactions to light scratching, fluttering, and/or pinching his ribs are absolutely adorable.

Though he is a ler-leaning-switch, that doesn't mean he has at all left his ruthlessness at the door, he could still probably kill someone if he wanted to.

Uses all kinds of tickles depending on who and where it is. (Will die before telling anyone, but he really like to give and receive sillier stuff like nibbles and raspberries)

He was/is a bit gentler with MC because he, originally, though that the human was too fragile for what he normally does. If MC straight up tells him that they don't want him to be easy on them, then, believe you me, he won't. Do be prepared, MCs that believe they can take it, to be almost killed every single time.

8/10 for ticklishness.

Mammon

If he says his middle name is gambling, he's lying, it's actually switch.

As a playful tickle monster of a ler and a blushy, flustered mess of a lee, this man can not take what he dishes out.

This mf growls in the most teasing way possible, the three times in at least a dozen millenia that Lucifer found himself in the position of lee even he found himself blushing at the second born's antics.

MC comes along and this man almost dies on several occasions.

He doesn't need to breathe, but gdi, he wish he did so he could use that to make them stop.

Don't worry about what gets the best reactions, all of them do.

Even though... go for the middle section (right where his wings pop out) of his back if you want him to beg, ribs+sides if you want frantic laughter, and thighs+ass if you want high notes.

Did I mention that he's a brat? 'Cause he's a brat.

He will do anything but what you tell him to, if he knows you'll tickle him. He's the kind of brat that thinks they can take it, but start begging before you even touch them.

Over all, 13/10 on the ticklish scale.

Leviathan

This mans...

Right off the bat, baby's a lee-leaning switch.

He lers to get revenge on some people and lees most of the time.

He ended up on the losing side of tickle fights nine times outta ten.

When he does ler though...

The tail in his demon form isn't just for direction and decoration, oh, no, no, he'll pin you with it so he can use both hands. If a majority of it is free, he'll use it to help tickle you, too.

His preferred method of tickling people in poking bc it doesn't require to much physical contact, but if he's really trying he'll go all out. Squeezes, raspberries, nibbles, pinches, and that's not even the end of the list.

Teases his lee by pointing out obvious shit, like how red their face is, how they've been bested by a "dirty otaku", how much their laughing, etc, etc.

Then Mc comes along and he just can't-

Malfunctions 75% of the time he's suddenly touched, and when Mc appears outta nowhere to start shit that gets bumped up to 80%.

Tease him, trust me.

He'll whine about it, but he wants it.

Lower back damn near kills him, underarms are torture, and stummy turns him into the giggly-ist, blushy-ist, adorable ball of mush you've ever seen.

12/10 for ticklish asf.

Satan

You can't even attempt to tickle this man.

Right below Lucifer when it comes to who wins the family tickle fights.

He's in a full on war with Lucifer for the No. 1 spot.

He has yet to win against his brother/father, and probably never will-

Ler all the way, and he's RUTHLESS.

Like, more ruthless than Lucifer, because Lucifer will let up so you breathe after a while so you don't suffocate.

Satan has spells that will force oxygen into and out of your lungs and, if he uses them, that's it. You're fucked. You pissed him off, now he's gonna get you back until he feels satisfied.

When Mc comes along, he's actually kinda happy when they challenge him.

Finally! I worthy opponent! Our battle shall be legendary!

Teasing will result in immediate termination by tickles.

He cackles like an evil mastermind if you squeeze his hips, will attempt to fist-fight you if you start poking around him back, and,- just,-... gives tf up if you go for the outer side of his thighs.

7/10 but just can't take it.

Asmodeus

Careful, now! Asmo is just about anything and everything.

This baby is 100% a switch and changes for whatever his partner wants.

Lees, you want a ruthless ler? Merciful? Something else/in between? Asmo's got you.

Lers, you want a brat? Obedient? Something else/in between? Asmo's got you!

Fellow switches? Anytime, anywhere, Asmo. Has. Got you.

Asmo often tries to use tickle fights to feel people up, but it's kinda hard to do that when your arms are pinned above your head, so he'll just sit there and take it.

However, he has accidentally started them from attempting to feel someone up.

He's ticklish just about everywhere, but his thighs, knees and underarms deserve some special attention.

Absolutely the demon to tease his 'lees with compliments (unless it's Mammon, to which then it's straight up lecturing or insults)

NAILS.

Watch out for this man's nails because they're deadly.

That being said, he know just how tickly his nails are and uses them every chance he gets, so you really can't watch out for them.

I've said before that he'll be whatever the other wants, but when he wants to tickle, he's mean. The kind of mean that makes lees keyboard smash.

6/10, but it can and will change depending on the person.

Beelzebub

Tickle monster 2.0

Tickle bear hugs!

He is a ler, but he's a very sweet ler.

Light tickles, nibbles, chomp-ies, kisses, the occasional raspberry here and there.

He teases by asking questions that would be normal to ask in any other situation, but it's flustering in this one.

Gets into tickle fights all the time!

He's the one holding the person who started it down, while the others go ham on them.

Hungy Sweetheart just wants to be helpful!

He's almost never lee'd!

Then MC comes along and figures out that's because he's only ticklish in very certain spots that's no one'd really checked.

The only other person to know where those are, is Belphie bc it's Belphie-

Baby is very scared of hurting you, so he doesn't try to fight you off, or buck, or anything.

Doesn't really laugh, but he does giggle. When you find those spots near his neck and stomach, he's giggling like a mad man.

4/10 but is very sweet.

Belphegore

Our poor, tired, murderous calf...

Yeah, in an alternate universe, he killed us with tickles.

We've got another ruthless ler on our hands.

You'd think he doesn't care about tickling people bc tired, but that's how he gets ya

If you're getting chased, you're more likely to run to the one place you know there's a person who wouldn't wanna tickle you, but, secretly, that person does want to tickle you and once you've locked the door and hunkered down with them, you've dug your own grave.

The ler that's gonna tell you to be quiet while they attack your worst spots.

He's a ler, but that doesn't mean he's not ticklish.

Over all, he's not insanely ticklish like Levi or Mammon, but he's pretty bad.

His neck, thighs and belly make him laugh desperately, but anywhere else is light giggles and squeaks to yelps and squeals.

Squeezing is his favorite, giving and receiving.

6/10 for the 7th born

That's it for now, I've had this sitting in my queue for months now and I had to get this out of it. Consider this a part 1 and part 2 will be the "Neo Dateables" or side characters.

[ikeromantic]

A Moment, No More

Written for @lazy-angel-kitten as part of my 500 follower celebration

Mitsuhide, Moments, Something Blue, Angsty!

Approx. 1400 words

Mitsuhide walked through the castle in the cool morning. Pale light gilded the crown of his hair and lit his amber eyes with a soft glow. Anyone that saw him would say he was beautiful. Anyone but the woman he had eyes for.

She was already up, her hair tucked into a bun at the back of her head. A few wisps already sought escape, curling around her delicate ears and the tender skin at the back of her neck.

His fingers sought that silken thread, and he wondered if each strand would feel as soft as he imagined it.

The chatelaine looked up, noticing him finally. A wary smile turned up the corners of her lips and crinkled the edges of her eyes. “Good morning Mitsuhide!”

“It is morning. Whether or not it is good . . .”

She laughed. “That’s exactly the kind of answer I expected from you.”

Mitsuhide felt a real smile threaten the mask he kept so firmly in place. “I am glad I could amuse you, but next time I will need to be less predictable.” He gave a little bow.

“Then I will look forward to it.” She reached over and patted his arm. Her hand was warm, her touch gentle.

He leaned into the touch, his body obeying its own natural laws, whatever his mind asked of it. “I brought you something.”

“A gift?” She looked up.

Mitsuhide held up a tiny bellflower and turned it in his fingers for her to see. Then he tucked it into her hair. The strands were as soft as he’d imagined. Better, even. And though it was a silly gesture, seeing her wearing Akechi blue made his heart glad. But not as glad as the soft smile that lit her eyes. That made her glow.

“Thank you.” Her hand fell away from his arm, though she didn’t step back. Her eyes met his and Mitsuhide felt his heart stir in his chest.

And then the spell broke, and the moment was gone as if it had never happened. Hideyoshi stepped out of the nearby door, his smile wide and satisfied. “I thought I heard your voice! Did you need help with-” He noticed Mitsuhide. The lack of distance between them.

“I was just wishing our chatelaine good morning.” Mitsuhide’s smile hurt but he’d rather die than let it go.

Hideyoshi’s brows drew together as he struggled with himself.

Mitsuhide waited to see what would win out. His mother hen side? His big brother complex? Or the budding love that he had yet to acknowledge?

“That’s unusual.” Hideyoshi’s eyes narrowed. “Did you need something?”

“No, in fact, I was just on my way out.” Mitsuhide gave them both a slight bow.

“Have a good day,” the chatelaine called.

Hideyoshi watched in contemplative silence until Mitsuhide was out of sight.

Mitsuhide could hear the chatelaine’s high, sweet voice even over the sounds of the castle staff as he made his way to the gate. Her voice followed him all day. From teahouse to merchant’s stall, to the docks. He couldn’t make out the words, just the sound. Like a distant song.

And then he spotted her. She was nearly at the end of the street. Hideyoshi was walking beside her and she had hold of his arm. Her face was turned up to his, eyes lit up with affection. Her sweet lips curved in a smile.

In that moment, Mitsuhide would have given anything - everything - to trade places with Hideyoshi. He would gladly accept damnation just to be the one she smiled like that for. Just for one moment.

He turned away. It tore at him inside. An itch, an ache, with no relief. Mitsuhide sought out the red lantern. An inn with companions to enjoy for an hour or two, hoping they could drive this from him. He sat at a private table, and the owner brought two beautiful women to serve him. They were beauties. Lips as red as blood, soft skin, eyes like dark pools a man could lose himself in.

Mitsuhide let them pour his sake and sit on his lap. They draped their perfumed arms around him and stroked his chest. They laughed and teased, and kissed his neck. But every touch only reminded him they were not her.

He paid and left. By then, it was dark out. The moon sat low in the sky, nearly full, bloated with its own importance. The stars drew his eyes up as he walked back to Azuchi. They were so distant. Tiny, insignificant things. Beautiful. Like the light in her eyes. Unreachable.

Mitsuhide suddenly felt sick. The sake, the smell of stale perfume and sweat, the lipstick smears on his chest and neck disgusted him. He wasn’t worthy of a love like hers. Not when her gentle rejection sent him crawling into the arms of a courtesan. He deserved the ache in his chest, the tight, roiling heat in his low belly.

The Azuchi castle baths were cold this time of night, and blessedly empty. Mitsuhide didn’t bother with a lantern. He filled a tub and shed his clothes. The cold water cleared his head as he sank down into it. With sand and fragrant herbs, he scrubbed his skin pink. He wanted to be clean, inside and out. But some filth couldn’t wash away so easily.

There was blood on his hands that no bath could remove. He was a man fated to live in darkness. To take on himself the tasks that better men could not do. It had never hurt so much before to acknowledge this . . . and yet. For her he wished . . .

Mitsuhide lay back in the water and closed his eyes. Burnished gold dimmed and hidden. His hair spread behind him like a soft cloud of pale silk. He tried to ease his grief, to forget it. To float, untouched by deep emotion. But a warm glow grew at the corners of his vision, banishing that inner darkness.

His eyes opened as he realized it was lantern light.

“Mitsuhide.” Her face hung over his, a study of light and shadows. Loose hair cascaded down her back, curling at her collarbone.

It was a dream made into life. And a joke. A taunt. He told himself to sit up. Say something sharp, witty. Cruel. Then she would leave and he would be alone. Again. He didn’t move, didn’t speak.

He could feel her eyes like a physical touch, the faintest trace of warmth as they slid from his face to his bare chest, his exposed belly, the delicate trace of hair that led down from his belly button. His breath trembled - and hers did too.

Fingers as soft as fine spun silk settled on his cheek, her thumb smoothing a drop of water from his skin. Her lips parted. And Mitsuhide damned all gods and demons as he sat up and kissed her. She was hot to the touch, like embracing the flame. Like holding to the sun.

For one moment he was blessed. And then she pushed away from him. Her eyes were wide with surprise. Her breath came in gasps. “You kissed me!”

He wanted very much to do it again. He could see all of her now. The thin, damp cloth of her gown clung to her naked body like a second skin. He could see every curve and valley of her body and he ached to trace paths on it with his fingertips. With his tongue.

“What did you think, little mouse, when you stumbled on me bathing? Did you enjoy the view?” He tried to purr the words, smooth and in control, but they rasped from his throat with need.

“I . . .” She looked away. Her hands curled into little fists at her sides.

“Admit it. Tell me you like what you see.” He stood, letting the water cascade down him. The droplets were cold on his now fevered skin. “Tell me, and I promise you I will show you so much more.”

“I hate you.” The words were a harsh whisper. And then she turned on her heel and ran.

Mitsuhide watched her go, the distance between them flaying his heart. There was no happy end for monsters, he thought.

A tiny blue bellflower lay trampled on the ground. Wilted, broken stemmed. Forgotten.

[renee-writer]

I Fought the Law Chapter 29"Murtagh Questions Column

AO3

“ What can I tell you except he is gone.” He lean back comfortably in the chair. The police station doesn’t intimidate him. He seems as comfortable there as he does in his own home. Murtagh glares across the table at him. He just smiles, though it come out more a smirk.

“You except me to believe that your brother traveled back through time?” He raises his thick eyebrows up. His hands lay, palm down on the table. His suspect crosses his legs, placing his own hands behind his head.

“Truly governor, that is up to you. It is the truth.”

Murtagh shakes his head. He had sent Jamie and Angus off to search for Dougal. So far, they have come up empty. But, he has to be about. There is no way he has traveled through time, was there?

Murtagh has grown up with all the legends. The fairy hills, silkies, even the monster said to live in the Loch of Ness. But time travel, it seems more then a bit far fetched.

“You say, he went through to help the Scottish army and Prince Charles, win the battle of Culloden Moor?”

“Just so.” He moves forward, placing his hands on the table. “Come wouldn’t you like to see the British bastards put in their place? To see Scotland, governed by herself?”

“Of course I would,” the other man’s eyes alight, “but not at the expense of the now. If, what you say is true, and that, my friend, is a big if, then how will this change history? Who will be born that wasn’t to be, who will die that wasn’t supposed to? You see the issue. We might suddenly blink out, to be replaced by two different versions of ourselves. Beyond that, what of history itself? The change would be dramatic, effecting more then just England and Scotland.” He sighs. Is he really having this discussion? Debating the effects of time travel? A shake of his head before he continues, “It could be catastrophic.”

“,Aye, and it could be a huge blessing to the world. Africa, Europe, the States, could all be effected positively. It could give them the strength to stand up to British rule.”

“All this is predicated on the reality of time travel. I am not willing to admit it even exists.”

“Far enough.” He returns to his relaxed position. Murtagh still sits straight, his hand now knotted on the scarred wood table. “I have a question for you?”

“Aye?”

“What are the charges you seek to bring against Dougal and myself?”

A damn good question. Was time travel illegal? It seems there should be a charge for screwing with time. There must be. Oh, it suddenly hits him. He unknots his hands and looks at him with confidence. “Terroristic threats. You admit to acts that constitute war against England. Whether you can pull them off is not the only issue. The threats themselves are enough to hold you, at least to we find your brother.”

“Then you better send Jamie and Angus back in time. The portal is in the old surgery in Castle Leoch.”

Murtagh shakes his head before calling for an officer to book him. The portal, indeed! Still, he would send Jamie and Angus to check it out. He can do no less.

[irish-urn]

LWD: “Marti the Monster”

I was thinking about this the other day, but having three women move into the house must’ve been really good for Derek and Edwin, because it introduced them to what it’s like to live with a woman. Like, I can’t imagine what a shock to the system it must be to a guy who’s never had a sister or a mom around, and suddenly learns about bras and that-time-of-the-month and makeup and sexual harassment, and...

Because, like, an anon mentioned something about Derek being protective in that WHAT IF oneshot I wrote, and then I’ve been writing and thinking about Casey-and-Derek living together, and now I start this episode and Edwin asks for “no bra talk” please, and...

I mean: it must’ve been really educational for those two boys in a very weird way.

Anyways: I doubt that’s what this episode is about, but it got me thinking (please don’t be surprised if I bring up this topic again in either tumblr posts or in my stories, because for some reason it’s important to me).

...I swear I owned that exact ruffled skirt of Casey’s at one point.

So, Marti is a total brat, and I’m not surprised due to her upbringing. Look, it makes sense that Derek and Edwin have some manners because of Abby’s presence in their lives, but I don’t think Marti had much of Abby because she’s, what, 4? 5? And according to Canadian law, you have to be separated for at least a year before you get divorced, and George and Nora def didn’t meet immediately after that, so I’ve always figured Marti was under 18months when Abby left. So she’s only had an overwhelmed George and 2 brothers who are kids themselves.

Still. A monster. And I don’t know why Nora isn’t trying to help George more (unless they had a talk about this and came to an agreement???). I totally understand why Casey isn’t doing anything; she’s watching this going, If Mom isn’t going to do something, I certainly can’t.

(Also, understanding that Derek insults her when she looks cute? And Derek’s annoyed look after; I swear that’s more because she figured him out than because she insulted him.)

“Parents are such hypocrites!” is perhaps one of the truest things she’s ever said.

Casey’s analysis of Derek’s thought process re: babysitting -- I 100% follow and agree with. I think she’s totally right; and I also like that Paul pointed out that it was a her vs. Derek thing as opposed to a gender thing. And I like that he takes a few seconds to think about what he says: he doesn’t always say the right thing, but you can tell he cares and is trying his best.

AGAIN COSTUME DEPT: the new girl “hottie” is wearing almost the EXACT SAME SKIRT AS CASEY. THIS IS NOT A MISTAKE; THIS IS DELIBERATE. I swear, if it happens again, I’m gonna scream.

How does Derek go from looking completely gross and teenage boy at the house in the kitchen to looking really pretty cute when flirting with Sandra (new girl)??? This is FASTINATING; he is so good at understanding people and how to work them, even at 15!!!

New girl: unimpressed with him, doesn’t like sports, and is more concerned with going to English class. Writers: what are you doing??

George so obviously adores Nora, that I can see why the McDonald women let him get away with so much; it’s difficult not to like someone who adores your mom/you.

Casey trying to be discrete about a girl’s breasts and Derek having no issue talking about it, and Edwin being disgusted by it all — I love it. Also, he clearly listens to what she says, because he uses her throwaway sentences about the new girl to try to win her.

I feel like I’m going to go through so much second-hand embarrassment soon, and I may die. I can just TELL that something is going to go badly. I suspect for Derek.

I have to wonder, because I know in later episodes Derek helps with kids and is really good with them, whether he actually likes them at this point or not. Casey claims he doesn’t, but... what if he does? What if he does and pretends he doesn’t to be cool; and that’s why he grabs that aspect of Sandra’s likes...?

(Am I giving him more credit than I should?)

Yes, he just mentioned vegetarian food; he’s awful. I cannot deal with this so badly I can’t even listen to it; let me know when the scene is over. I am Casey: utterly disgusted by him.

...but gosh, he has a cute smile.

(AND he likes her ass. Der-ek! Have some class!)

George and Nora’s discussion about who should get the babysitting job is kinda cute — also, it says something that Derek is e-mailing his dad, and Casey is calling her mom; I can’t word it yet, but it does say something.

Derek is actually good with kids because he is fun; that being said, Casey brings what those kids need which is someone keeping them on track.

And the way Casey says, “You get what you want. Again.” is just... She’s so tired and disgusted and resigned. This new life is not what she wanted. She must love her mom an awful lot.

(The hat doesn’t really work, Nora. Gotta say.)

This babysitting thing is going to go so badly; I’m afraid to watch. Am gonna skim it because Sandra deserves better, and I’m too tired to cringe so much.

...

YAY CASEY MADE A NEW FRIEND NAMED SANDRA.

I both can and cannot believe that she agreed to go out with him. I feel like Casey’s face: totally stupefied.

The dance scene in the kitchen was the cutest. Casey is gonna be such a good mom.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

What makes a monster

My Masterlist  

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is my entry for @youbloodymadgenius‘ 1k Followers Celebration, with the prompt “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of war, blood, and death (and a passing description of it, nothing too graphic), descriptions of injury.

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this prompt, though whether or not this is any good remains to be decided. I sincerely hope this makes some sense lol

Thank you for the chance to participate in this!! Congratulations again!!

Ivar taught you many things, in the time that has passed since he made you his wife.

He taught you to play chess. You could never beat him.

Not until you found a way to distract him, to get close enough to make his heart quicken, to touch him just right to make his eyes drawn to you and not the board.

It was easy to take over the board when he was distracted, when words of love poured from his lips like spells, when his eyes -open and maddeningly in love- focused on you instead of the move you’d made.

Ivar taught you how to get his heart.

____

The sword trembles in your grasp, a myriad of emotions swirling inside you and stealing the steadiness of your hand.

The woman guides you into exchanging the weapon, tells you which words to repeat.

You give him your father’s sword, and at the sight of his smile you offer the same, and your lips form the three words that make his smile wider, softer.

The woman finishes speaking, and you don’t hear the words, too trapped in this moment, but you know what they mean, you know what has changed, you know what just started.

The ring on his finger is cold against your skin when Ivar cups your face and brings you close to him for a kiss that steals your breath and your every thought.

His other hand grips at your waist, and you pull away from his lips.

“Ivar!” You chastise lowly, a small delighted laugh leaving your lips. Your own hand grips at his forearm, careful to keep him upright now that he has exchanged holding onto the crutch for holding onto you.

He only smiles, a light and enamored chuckle leaving his lips as he tilts your head to him again, and kisses you passionately as the people around you cheer.

“I love you.” He promises against your lips, before claiming your mouth again. You kiss him back, with all the emotion you can muster.

When he parts one final time, brow pressed against yours and eyes shinning and light and happy as he looks at you; there’s nothing that could keep you from returning that smile, from bestowing the gentlest of touches on the side of his face, tracing the contour of his wide smile.

“My wife.” He calls out, lowly, a whisper, a secret.

“My husband,” You return, and a promise of your own, “I love you.”

You sit up on the bed, but no matter how slight you try to keep your movements, Ivar still mumbles something that sounds quite close to your name, hand stretched in search for you even as he continues to sleep.

And to the silent command that you return to him you give in, and put your hand over his, and take a moment to let your fingertips trace over the ring on his finger.

There’s two completely different men making up the one you married, and you have known that for a while.

A side of him that takes your hand roughly in his and makes you stand at his side even as the gore and blood of the last result of his rage still stains him and the room around you.

And a side of him that offers disbelieving eyes and trembles at the softest of your touches, that whispers your name like a prayer before a dream that threatens to shatter.

Whenever you are together in public, Ivar always finds a way to be touching you. To anyone else, anyone that didn’t know him the way you do, the gestures would be insignificant, would be thoughtless.

Nothing in the way Ivar behaves when he is surrounded by people is thoughtless, none of the ways he moves his body are insignificant.

And the weight of his arm around you, or the comforting grip of his hand on yours, or even the slightest of touches of his lips over your skin; mean something to you, something you couldn’t even begin to put words to.

And that change that takes over him, that softening of his features at the sight of you, that lowering of his guard when you are near, that release of tension when you touch him; it is only accentuated when you are alone.

When you are alone, side by side on the bed you share, secrets spill from his lips as easily as moans, and his eyes never cease to look at you like you remain something out of a dream.

With the months that follow your wedding, you banish the side of him that is made of jagged edges and cruelty and biting coldness from ever entering the room you share. And he remains, he always will -and you wouldn’t feel for him what you do if it weren’t so- made out of two sides of him, but you lay claim to one, the same way you lay claim to his heart.

Your heart beats quickly in your chest, and the shadows envelop you but you still fear, you still jump at every step and every voice.

Because these people know your face, these people know the way you walk, know what your body looks like. No cloak, no hood, no lowered gaze will help you hide.

Which is why you need the shadows. Which is why the darkness of the forest ahead is comforting.

Which is why when the shouted commands reach your ears, and out they go like hounds searching for Kattegat’s Queen, you run for the comfort of the darkness.

“I am sorry,” He starts one night, startling you from your lazy exploration of the lines of ink on his chest. You lift your head to find pale blue eyes focused intently on you, searching your gaze with a blend of pain and devotion that tugs your heart in two different directions. Ivar swallows, and continues, “For what I do, for…for what I did.”

His hand reaches to take the one that was wandering on his chest, and Ivar holds on tight to it.

You look into his eyes and say, “You have done nothing but make me happy.”

His expression falters, as if for a moment he wants to believe you, but with a furrow that trembles on his brows he insists, “I did many things wrong, when it came to you.”

But you shake your head, “You owe me no apologies. It is in the past.”

“The Gods…uh, they…they have never given much to me, not without…” He stops, licks his lips, avoids your gaze. You watch in silence, hanging onto the words that are yet to leave his lips, “Not without taking just as much. I…I had my father treat me like he did my brothers and…and I lost him, then I came back and I lost my mother, my home,” He frowns, and his hand tightens on yours. The anger that accompanies the grief, that always will. Ivar continues, “I…I was one more among my brothers, even Björn had to listen to me and I-…Sigurd made me kill him, and they hated me for it, I lost him, and I lost them too.”

“Ivar…” The word is hoarse as it leaves your lips, but you don’t know what to say, what to do.

“Now I have you, and I…I love you,” Each time he says it there’s a fragility in the three words, there’s a fear in the admission that some days is louder than others. Today is the loudest. “I am happy, with you, and I…”

His words die with what feels like a dying breath leaving his lips, and you offer the only words you can.

“You won’t lose me.”

You never wanted to fight, you never bothered learning. But you know about hiding.

You wait for the man to run past where you are, measure your breathing as you watch him turn his back to you. Your grip on the heavy log is tight, and you pray for strength before you move.

He grunts when you hit his legs, making him fall on the ground. Startled eyes look up at you before you bring the log down again, the scream this time shrill and echoing over the dark forest.

His leg bends wrong at the knee now, and the man pants and keens in pain, but you kneel next to him, and make him listen to you with frantic eyes.

“Go back where you came from, I am not going with you. Tell Ivar…tell Ivar I’m going home, tell him there’s no other way.”

You leave him there, darting for the comfort of the woods with your mind set on the next stage.

On the docks of the small fishing town neighboring Kattegat a ship awaits, Ribe’s flag on it, welcoming you back.

You board it, feeling eyes on you, as if Ivar could see all the way from the place he made you call home what you are doing. The ghost of who still lives, the ghost that haunts you with the burden of what you have betrayed.

You leave him behind, but he follows.

____

Ivar taught you many things, in the time that has passed since he invaded a kingdom and forced you to be at his side.

He taught you to wage war. You could never beat him.

Not until you found a way to get his focus on you, to make him face across a battlefield the eyes of one that promised him love and forever, to grip his heart tight enough in your fist that even across the board where warriors become pawns you see his pain.

It was easy to win each battle when he was distracted, when pain and grief left his lips like blood from a fatal wound, when his eyes -betrayed and still maddeningly in love- focused on you instead of the move you’d made.

Because Ivar taught you how to get his heart.

____

Ribe greets you with a feast and a sacrifice of which you still bear the blood of.

“We have word from across the sea. Kattegat is weakened. Once the King falls, we will be able to take over.” Your mother states, and you nod, swirling the drink in your cup and keeping your eyes on your brother, who seems to cling to her every word, just like when you were children.

“But Ivar the Boneless lives.” A shieldmaiden argues, scarred face frowning at her plate.

“Not for long,” The once Queen consort of Ribe states, spine straightened when she looks at you. You lift your eyebrows, but wait for your mother to speak. “I taught you better than to fail.”

“I haven’t failed. I lured him here, I weakened his army,” You snarl back, not caring for the sudden stillness in the room as mother and daughter face one another. After a breath, you motion with your head and insist, “What is the plan, when they land here? When his army is at our door?”

She sighs, “Your brother-…”

“My brother is too much of a coward to lead his own men into battle, I know,” You silence Emil’s complaint with a gesture of your hand, and your brother obediently stays silent. Turning your gaze to your mother, you insist, “And you were never a good Queen, mother, our men won’t follow you. So, tell me, who will lead them?”

“You,” She doesn’t miss a beat, always so certain the ground will be solid under her feet. You admire that, more than you could ever admit. She lifts a cup your way, “You were the one to return when they believed you had died. If our army is to listen to any of the people of our blood, it is you.”

“You’re making a mistake,” You warn her, but she is certain. You accept her words with a shrug, but one last time you offer, “This mistake will cost you, mother.”

____

Your mother taught you many things, ever since you were old enough to understand the ways of the world.

She taught you to betray. To be a lie in a world of men.

And a lie would know to put on a smile and to summon softness to her gaze, a lie would be able to whisper empty promises of devotion, a lie would do whatever it took to keep the lie alive.

A lie would survive, in a world of men. A world of monsters with the pleading blue eyes of someone a better woman could love, a world of beasts that are soothed at the vow of love sealed over hungry lips.

Your mother taught you to betray it all in the name of love.

____

The King of Kattegat limps away from the body as if it were nothing, turning to your mother and faking a bow with his free hand.

“The Princess is coming with me to Kattegat, or I raze this kingdom to ash. Your choice, Dane.”

When he leaves, the carefully held breaths in the room seem to stutter past all your lips, and your hand falls slowly from your mouth, no longer trying to keep at bay a scream you didn’t let out anyways.

“F-Father…” You whimper, and distantly you hear voices, you hear sounds. But you cannot take your eyes off of the lifeless ones of your father, who lays on the floor of his own throne room with a knife deep in his chest.

Your mother’s hands are trembling as she holds your face and makes you look into her tear-filled eyes. You can still hear her scream in your head, the shrill keen of a woman that saw the man she loved be killed in front of her.

“We have to kill him,” You whisper, and you wonder dazedly if it isn’t her hands that tremble, but the whole of you. “We have to make him pay. Mother-…”

“We will,” She vows, and her voice doesn’t waver, her resolve doesn’t crumble even if she does. “Remember what I told you? You keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

Realization dawns on you, and you start shaking your head. Please, Gods…

“No, n-no, don’t make me do this,” You beg, and you feel your shoulders rise and fall but no breath enters your lungs. You refuse to honor a deal your father made when the man he made the deal with still has his blood warm on his hands. “Mother, please, I can’t-…don’t-…”

“You will be his wife. It is as arranged,” She snarls, her hands on the sides of your face shaking you slightly. “You will take your father’s sword with you, and you will give it to Ivar the Boneless, and you will bear his ring in exchange.”

The men that mere months ago bowed their heads to you now look you over with distrust; the word -the title- that they once echoed respectfully is now a sneer as you walk them by.

Hvitserk looks at you like you saw him look at his enemies across a battlefield, unbridled rage and nothing but hate in a once-warm gaze. You still offer a smile as you pass him by, as you walk into Ivar’s tent.

“Do you have to…to leave so soon? We’ve barely been married a fortnight, Ivar.”

Your smile is soft when he turns to you, and you know he only sees love shining in your eyes.

“Will you miss me?” He teases, but there’s truth behind the question, there’s longing and the need to be reassured of love behind that practiced smile.

You lift your hand to his face, a teasing yet gentle push of your finger to his temple, before you cup his cheek and delight yourself in the way armor crumbles to dust at your touch.

“What kind of question is that?” You insist, shaking your head, pretend-fondness on your voice.

He turns back to his brother, promises the attack on Ribe will happen soon, that the Danes will be theirs. But, he acquiesces with a soft squeeze of your hand on his, after the winter has passed.

And it dawns on you that with but a touch you’ve bought them more time, almost a year.

Later that night you lay on his chest, tracing absently the ink marks on it, wondering if he notices how your touch lingers on the skin over his heart. Wondering if he would be naïve enough to believe it a gesture of love.

When you married him, when you followed your mother’s orders and set not to be devoured by the monster that ruled Kattegat, but to satiate his hunger for long enough that you could escape; you were startled by the…rawness of him.

The anger always too-quick to flare, the easily infuriated gaze of a man that revels in death, the bare truth of a monster made out of jagged edges and blades that broke as soon as they pierced the skin. That didn’t surprise you.

But the vulnerability that seemed to startle him as much as you, the secrets spilling from his lips with pale eyes looking up at you expecting answers, the bloodied hands that offered you a battered and cold heart with the unwavering trust that you’d keep it safe. That did surprise you.

It also surprised you how easily you made him believe you loved him. How easily you got his heart.

And when his hand grasps yours, stops your aimless wandering over his chest, you smile up at him, warmth in your chest.

What a terrible thing, what a dangerous thing, to crave love.

You walk out of that tent alive, something no one with a sound mind would believe. No enemy of Ivar the Boneless survives him, much less one that dared betray him.

But you do. And past the disdain, past the disgust, now in the army that surrounds you in this place they have decided to set camp in; there’s surprise, there’s fear.

Something, a question, a seed of doubt, shines in Hvitserk’s eyes when he sees you again, and once again you offer only a smile.

Your feet are bare on the cold ground, and you peer out the small opening into the cold world around you. You don’t have much time left.

Your heart trembles in your chest as you walk back to the bed, sitting down and hearing the soft rustling of Ivar moving at your back. His hand, almost by instinct, almost by heart, finds your leg, and he moves closer, a sleepy hum leaving his lips.

His voice, roughened by sleep and something else, calls out your name.

“I’m here, love.” You tell him quietly, a promise.

Your thoughts linger on the last word, though. Love.

You grew up hearing the stories of how love turned Gods into mere men, and made men believe themselves to be Gods. There was always a part of you drawn to those tales of how love made the worst of monsters human again.

They don’t talk about the other way around, though, you think to yourself as your fingertips dance over the ring on Ivar’s finger.

About how love makes monsters out of humans.

And, terrifyingly enough, it is not in the absence of love, or the loss of it. No, just in its existence, something as pure, as selfless, as vital as love can make a monster.

You close your eyes and you can see that horizon that is so familiar yet so strange, so wrong, and as Ivar sits behind you, hand loving even if threatening at your throat, lips reverent and fervent against the skin of your neck; you feel truth pour from your lips.

“My mother, she…she taught me to lie. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, she’d say.”

“Hm. And who is your enemy?”

Your mind lingers on that horizon, on the distant monsters that walk those streets you so loathe. And you have your answer.

You walk through familiar doors again, and Ribe’s people, Ribe’s warriors, greet you warmly.

You walk up to your mother, who stands by Emil where he sits on his throne, always the voice in his ear. Her eyes are cold when she gazes at you, but there’s the beginning of a smile on her lips.

You bow your head, a show of deference, before you tell her, “Ivar has agreed to a cease fire. He will be here come dawn to…negotiate.”

Once, he would have been a welcome sight in Ribe, when your father let a King from Norway ally himself with Danes, when your family rejoiced at the prospect of having the Princess of Ribe marrying a son of Ragnar. But with his arrival came war, and death; not the peace and allegiance your father was promised.

Last time Ivar the Boneless and the King of Ribe negotiated, your father ended up with a knife in his heart.

There’s hunger in her expression, a hunger you only saw once before. When she wiped your father’s blood from your face and whispered keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, when she turned you into something worse than a monster and told you to kill one.

And dawn comes, and death follows.

____

Your mother taught you many things, ever since you were hungry enough to understand ambition.

She taught you to betray. To be a lie in a world of men.

And a lie would know when to bow her head and fake deference, a lie would be able to weave tales of victory to those underserving, a lie would do whatever it took to keep him alive.

A lie would survive, in a world of men. A world of monsters with blood that runs red from the throat slit on the undeserved throne he sat on, a world of beasts that pretended to have the bond of family run deeper than a bond before the Gods, and lie dead because of that mistake.

Because your mother taught you to betray it all in the name of love.

____

The blood stains your hands, your dress, the knife you still hold on to as you stand in that throne room, the evidence of your betrayal still dripping slowly to the wooden floor.

But you smile, and when you lift your gaze, you find the smile mirrored in familiar lips.

The knife clatters on the blood-soaked floor under your feet, and there’s a little bit of madness in the laugh that leaves your lips as you cross the space between you.

But, as your laugh dissolves against Ivar’s lips, you gather it doesn’t matter.

You close your eyes and surrender to his kiss, you let bloodied hands cup his face and bring him closer to you, and stave off the cold of so many months away from him with the warmth of having him back in your arms.

When you part, his brow presses against yours, and there’s shaky relief in the way he breathes out your name, there’s a heart that was threatened with breaking shining in pale blue eyes.

But there’s love in the way he makes love to you that night, and there’s love in the way your fingers dance over the ink traces of his chest again.

There’s love, and you do not dare ask what it made out of him, or what it made out of you.

____ ____ ____

I hope to have taken you by surprise, hopefully more than once lol

Idk if this is any good but it was fun to write, I hope you liked it, and thank you so much for reading!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless  @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld  

[deep-space-elf]

A little Vampire research

So I did a little research about Astarion or rather on vampires and found some pretty interesting things...

First of all: I have all the information below from the book called: Dungeons and Dragons: A Monster Manuel - so for people who know some things about this universe and its lore, the things I found are probably old news. But I thought I can't be the only one new to it, so I thought I share my findings.

The first thing I discovered was a little unsettling as someone who will totally romance the hells out of the charming vampire spawn:

Dark Desires. Whether or not a vampire retains any memories from its former life, its emotional attachments wither as once-pure feelings become twisted by undeath. Love turns into a hungry obsession, while friendship becomes bitter jealousy. In place of emotion, vampires pursue physical symbols of what they crave, so that a vampire seeking love might fixate on a young beauty. A child might become an object of fascination for a vampire obsessed with youth and potential. Others surround themselves with art, books, or sinister items such as torture devices or trophies from creatures they have killed.

Mind, this behaviour is said about vampires. I'm not sure if it's any different for vampire spawns. Then again, it looks like Astarion's goal is becoming a full-vampire so... 👀

I also wonder if it has something to do with how vampires came to exist. If you're not interested in this topic, skip the next huge chunk of text.

Strahd von Zarovich. A brilliant thinker and capable warrior in life, Strahd von Zarovich fought in countless battles for his people. When war and killing finally stripped him of his couth and strength, he settled in the remote valley of Barovia and built a castle on a towering pinnacle, from which he could survey his lands. His brother Sergei came to live with him in Castle Ravenloft, becoming Strahd’s adviser and constant companion.

In his brother, Strahd saw everything he has lost. Sergei was handsome and young, while Strahd has become old and scarred. Resentment coloured their relationship, eventually turning into hatred. Strahd’s beloved Tatyana, spurred him for Sergei, whom she pledged to marry.

In a desperate attempt to win Tatyana’s heart, Strahd forged a pact with dark powers that made him immortal. At the wedding of Sergei and Tatyana, he confronted his brother and killed him. Tatyana fled and flung herself from Ravenloft’s walls. Strahd’s guards, seeing him for a monster, shot him with arrows. But he did not die. He became a vampire - the first vampire, according to many sages.

In the centuries since his transformation, Strahd’s lust for life and youth have only grown. He broods on his dark castle, cursing the living for stealing away what he lost, and never admitting his hand in the tragedy he created.

But things get REALLY interesting when you look at the abilities of vampires and vampire spawns.

This is what vampire spawns can do:

Vampire Spawn Skills: Regeneration Spider Climb

Vampire Spawn Weaknesses: Forbiddance Harmed by running water Stake to the heart Sunlight Hypersensitivity

Actions: Multi-task Claws Bite

A Vampire can do all these things as well and a little more, such a shapeshifting. But then there's the full-vampire action called Charm and it sounds awfully familiar:

Charm. The vampire targets one humanoid it can see within 30 feet (~9m) of it. If the target can see the vampire, the target must success on a DC 17 Wisdom saving throw against the magic or be charmed by the vampire. The charmed target regards the vampire as a trusted friend to be heeded and protected. Although the target isn’t under the vampire’s control, it takes the vampire’s request or actions in the most favourable way it can, and it is a willing target for the vampire bit attack.

Each time the vampire or the vampire’s companions do anything harmful to the target, it can repeat the saving throw, ending the effect on itself on a success. Otherwise, the effect lasts 24 hours or until the vampire is destroyed, is on a different plane of existence than the target, or takes a bonus action to end the effect.

I'm not really sure what to make of it, but I thought it was really interesting. We know that Astarion is different from other vampire spawns and seeing the Charm Action, I wonder if he's actually far more powerful than we, or Astarion himself even, realises.

[omgrachwrites]

The Princess and The Duke - Chapter Ten

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: As the Princess of  Spain, you were always supposed to marry King James of   England to make an alliance between Spain and England. When he marries a woman at his court for love, you are married off to his best friend, Sirius Black the Duke of Bedford to keep the alliance. However, the court is riddled  with secrets and a rebel in the North starts to rise against the Throne. Royal AU.

Warnings: angst, character death, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, fluff

Words: 2816

A/N: How are we on chapter ten already?! I’m so sorry for this chapter, but why is angst so fun to write? Hope you guys enjoy this part and please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged! xxx

Chapter Ten - To Die in Battle

The harsh winter wind was raging fiercely as Sirius stood on the frozen front lawn of the castle, if he didn’t die in the fighting then he would surely freeze to death. But, the wind was nothing compared to the emotions swirling in his heart. He was leaving his beautiful wife and his unborn child; he was surely walking to his certain death. Sirius didn’t know – no one did – what the numbers were like in Cumbria. But, with Scotland on this Lord Voldemort’s side, Sirius and James would be outnumbered, even with the Frenchmen that King Francis had sent.

Y/N looked beautifully sorrowful and melancholy as she looked up at him, tears filling her eyes. She reminded him of a painting he had once seen of Guinevere, when she had heard the news of Arthur’s death. Sirius hoped that he wouldn’t go the same way.

Sirius tried to smile but he feared that it came out as more of a grimace as he cupped Y/N’s rosy and frozen cheeks, “I’ll come back to you, my love. I promise, I love you so much.”

“You better had come back to me Sirius, I love you too,” Y/N sniffled and pulled him into a long passionate kiss, he poured all the love he had for her into the kiss and he knew that she was doing the same.

The kiss lasted for so long that James had to speak up, “Sirius, I’m sorry but we have to go,” reluctantly, Sirius pulled away from Y/N and pressed a kiss to her forehead, her eyes were pleading with him not to go, but he had no choice. As he rode away, he stole one last look at his Princess, hoping that he’d be able to see her again.

The journey up North went by without so much as a hitch and it surprised Sirius but he was glad that they hadn’t run into any trouble. There was enough trouble in Cumbria, they didn’t need more. The army made camp about a mile outside of Cumbria close enough to the fighting but fat enough away that they could feel safe.

Nerves swarmed in Sirius’ stomach as he heard the pounding drums of the battle, this wasn’t his first time fighting but now there was so much at stake; the state of the country and the life of Y/N and their child. What would happen to them if he died? He was going to fight tooth and nail to make sure that he survived, he had to.

“You look positively green, Peter. Are you alright?” Sirius tried to laugh but it came out hollow and humourless.

Peter swallowed, “I’m scared.”

Sirius nodded and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, Sirius would have called him a coward if he didn’t care so much about him, “so am I, Peter. But, we’re going to win, I know we are,” Sirius’ voice sounded more confident than he truly felt.

Peter nodded and gave Sirius a tight smile but for the rest of the day, he looked increasingly better.

The first few days of the fighting started off slowly but that didn’t mean it was any less brutal, Sirius hated killing men, even in battle, he felt like a monster. Dark red blood tainted the pure blanket of white snow, like spilled wine. The screams of dying men and the stench would forever haunt Sirius’ dreams as he fought in the beautiful countryside of Cumbria. He prayed to God every night, thanking Him for keeping him safe. Sirius had never before been a religious man but now seemed a good time to start believing.

What Sirius thought was odd was the fact that they hadn’t seen the fabled Lord Voldemort yet and they hadn’t seen the Scots. Thankfully, Sirius didn’t see Regulus among the men who were trying to kill him. He hoped that his kind little brother was somewhere safe, somewhere far away from the fighting.

Days rolled by and the fighting continued and the warring men painted the countryside red with each other’s blood. James had received an arrow in the shoulder and Remus had been on the receiving end of a dagger in the side, though they would both pull through. Sirius and Peter remained unscathed apart from a few cuts.

Sirius worried more about the effect that this battle would have on his mind and his dreams. James’ army dwindled in size, too many good men died, too many men that Sirius had known when he was a child.

A couple more days went by and Sirius’ young squire, Johnathan succumbed to a fatal wound by the frozen river. He asked Sirius to hold him, he didn’t want to be alone as he died, “it’s a beautiful place to die, apart from the battle of course,” Johnathan tried to laugh but he only choked on the blood that spilled from his mouth as he looked at the frozen river and the mountains beyond.

Hot tears fell down Sirius’ cheeks as he held his friend, Johnathan was so young. Sirius hadn’t wanted him to fight but Johnathan had begged him, he had wanted to be a Knight, “Johnathan, you crazy bastard,” Sirius sniffled as he tried to hold the life inside Johnathan by putting pressure on the wound but he knew it was no use. Johnathan was going to die, “you would have made an amazing Knight.”

“Damn right,” Johnathan gave a little pained smile as his voice grew weaker and began to fade, “when you get back home to your lovely wife, please tell the Lady Sophia that I love her. I’ve thought of her every moment and I’m thinking of her now as I lay dying. My only regret is that I didn’t see her beautiful face once more.”

Sirius nodded, “of course, I will.”

“Thank you, my friend,” he gasped out in pain as his breathing slowed and the life left his body. Sirius sniffed as a great wave of sadness crashed against him and he closed Johnathan’s eyes so now it only looked like he was merely sleeping. Sirius made a mental note to bury him when the fighting was over.

Rage filled Sirius’ chest as he saw red and he swore that he would find the man who had killed his friend. Sirius cut down many men and anguished cries filled his ears but he didn’t flinch as he once did. For the first time since the fighting began, the sun peeked over the mountains and filled the battlefield with watery winter sunlight. The mere sight of it filled Sirius with hope, hope that he would get back to his wide and he’d be able to see his child grow up.

That night when Sirius entered the war tent, he found that James was smiling brightly, he looked like a young God as the light bounced off his golden crown, “the Scots aren’t here, I think we’ve been lured into a trap but we can win Sirius.”

Sirius’ eyes widened and it felt like all his dreams had come true, “it was Malfoy who told us of the Scottish presence. Where is he?” Sirius wondered whether Malfoy had been a traitor among them and had tried to lure them off to their deaths. Whatever the truth was, it was definitely suspicious.

James shrugged, “I honestly couldn’t care less.”

When the rest of the army realised that the Scots – or Lord Voldemort – weren’t going to show up, it filled them with new hope and they began to fight tooth and nail. They fought so fiercely that in hundreds of years, songs and stories would be told of this day. Till the end of history would this day be sung of. It would be the stuff of legends and Sirius doubted that the mighty King Arthur had fought so well.

“They’re retreating like the cowards they are!” James yelled gleefully after hours of brutal fighting.

Sure enough, ahead of them men were retreating, led by a man in a mask and Sirius wondered if it was Lord Voldemort. Though, he couldn’t find it in his heart to care, he was just so glad that this battle was finished, even though he knew the threat was not yet defeated and there was still the Scottish to worry about.

But, he was going home, even if Johnathan couldn’t be at his side, he couldn’t tell Sophia that he loved her himself, he would be remembered. All Sirius wanted to do was ride all the way back to the palace, to his wife’s arms but of course he couldn’t do that yet. As the men celebrated, Remus turned to Sirius with a grin, dozens of cuts littering his young handsome face.

“Where is Johnathan? He should be celebrating with us! I like that man.”

Sirius’ face dropped and he felt hot tears pricking behind his eyes, Johnathan couldn’t celebrate with them and he wasn’t coming home, “he’s dead, I held him as he died,” Sirius’ voice broke,

Remus sighed mournfully as he pulled Sirius into a hug, “I’m so sorry, I know how much he meant to you. We’ll have a funeral for him and he’ll be remembered as a hero.”

Remus was true to his word, Sirius and his friends buried Johnathan – and all those who had fallen. Johnathan’s funeral was beautiful; James said a few words for him as did Sirius, who knew him best. On the day that they buried Johnathan, the sun come out and melted the snow and the river began running again. It gave Sirius hope that better days were coming. He knew that better days were coming.

Sirius was in high spirits as the army began the trek back home and he joined in with the triumphant bawdy songs. He grinned at those who remained those who would see the people they loved again. He thought of Y/N every second of the way, he was going to sleep in her warm comforting arms for a whole month and nobody would be able to stop him.

---------------------------------------------------

It had been two weeks, two whole weeks since your love had gallantly rode off to battle and you were missing him terribly. You had vivid dreams about him every night, and in those dreams you were happy but that happiness was shattered when you woke up with a broken heart when your beautiful husband wasn’t lying next to you.

He was your anchor, you had shared so many experiences with one another, it felt like you were a widow already but you wouldn’t think about that. Even though, you had heard no news of the battle. Though, you weren’t the only one who was feeling lost, Lily waited for her King and Sophia paced around your chambers with a nervous look on her face as she held her stomach.

“It’s going to be okay you know,” you smiled at the pretty girl as you knitted baby clothes by the warmth of the fire, “they’ll come home safe,” you tried to convince yourself of that too. There could be no alternative; you didn’t even want to think about it.

Sophia shot you a nervous smile, “it’s not just that,” she sighed, biting her lip, “I suppose that I should tell you, word will travel fast when the army return for the victory feast,” she took a deep breath as you frowned at her words, “the father of my baby is King Francis.”

“Sophia, I…” you trailed off, gobsmacked and hurt that your dearest friend had lain with the man who had threated your child. The only sound in the room was the crackle of the roaring fire.

“At the summit, when you were with Lily, he came by to apologise to you for being rude. He saw that I was upset and he comforted me. I wrote to him and he bids me to come to court as his mistress.”

“Do you want that?” you asked weakly as you found your voice, you were utterly shocked at this news.

Sophia shrugged as she played with her fingers, “I’d be ruined here when people find out, France will be the safest place for me and my child. He was a kind lover,” her eyes welled up, “I know that I’ve shamed you.”

You shook your head as her voice broke and you pulled her into a hug, “you could never shame me, if this is what you want that I’ll support you,” she was right, France would be the safest place for her and you couldn’t be angry at her for wanting to keep herself and her unborn child safe, “I’ll miss you,” you teared up, your heart feeling heavy, “can I persuade you to stay until I give birth? I want you by my side, Sirius and I will see to it that you get safe passage to France.”

Sophia pulled away from you and she smiled kindly as she took your hands in her soft ones, “of course, it would be an honour to attend you in your birthing bed. Thank you, Your Highness.”

The two of you warmed yourselves by the fire and Sophia told you stories of what the King was like and what she imagined his court to be like. She looked so happy that you had to support her decision even if it killed you to hand her over to France. You talked with her for a couple of hours before a trumpet was blown outside and Sophia looked at you with sparkling, happy eyes.

“That means that the army has returned!”

You gasped, your heart felt impossibly light, your husband had come home – you hoped – and without another word, you picked up your skirts and hurried onto the front lawn. The King was riding at the front of the company and you heard Lily squeal in delight before she ran to him, and you knew that Sophia was looking for Johnathan. Your heart stopped when you looked behind James and saw him, he looked so beautiful and gallant.

You watched him as he dismounted his horse and at once you ran into his arms, you never thought that you’d see him again or feel his warmth around you. Sirius chuckled as he lifted you off the ground and spun you around. You pulled your head away from his neck long enough to look at his handsome face, his eyes were soft as he gazed at you but you could tell that in their depths he felt haunted. You gently trailed your fingers over the bloody cuts on his face before leaning down to kiss him desperately. Sirius put you down as he kissed you back, clutching you desperately as his tongue dived into your mouth.

“I missed you so much,” he spoke in between kisses.

“I missed you too,” you stroked your thumbs against the hollow of his cheeks, “I’m so glad that you’ve come back to me. I love you.”

“I promised, I love you too,” he smiled as he pressed his forehead against yours.

Later that night, you were wrapped up in each other’s arms; it was obvious by the look on Sirius’ face that he didn’t want to talk about the battle so you didn’t ask him. He had been so brave but you wished that he didn’t have to be, you couldn’t lose him, it must have been so horrible for him. The only thing that Sirius had told you of the battle was the fact that Johnathan died in his arms. Sophia sobbed when Sirius told her the news and she sobbed even more when Sirius told her that Johnathan loved her and she was the last thing that he thought of.

Sirius huffed out a laugh as you leaned forward and lovingly kissed every single cut on his chest before you placed a kiss over his beating heart which jumped beneath your lips. You smiled as Sirius’ fingers dived into your hair, “you were all I thought about when I was away, every day I fought to come home to you.”

Your eyes teared up as you felt an overwhelming wave of love for the stunningly handsome man that was at your side, “I thought about you too, I dreamt of you every night, wishing you were here with me. Thank you for coming home to me, to us, thank you for keeping your promise,” tears fell down your cheeks as Sirius kissed your forehead.

“You don’t have to thank me my love, I keep the promises that I make, no matter what happens, I will always come home to you,” his thumbs wiped away your tears as he pulled you in for another kiss, resting his hands on your stomach.

You didn’t know what you would do without him, you knew that you could never love another, and you thanked God that he was home with you.

---------------------------------------------------

@smiithys​ @elayneblack​ @amelie-black​ @siriuslyjanhvi​ @pregnant-piggy​ @lindatreb​ @mabelle-cherie​ @hxrgreeves​ @britishspidey​ @mads-bri​ @classicrocketqueen​ @sxtansqueen​ @hufflepuffzutara​ @missmulti​ @bruxa0007​ @ourstarsailor​ @fific7​ @galwithbluethoughts​ @2410slb​ @sunles​ @krismeunicornbaobei​ @theincredibledeadlyviper​ @deathkat657​

[kurama-is-love]

An unusual proposal (Oneshot)

It's been a while since I wrote in english, so please bear with me if this is not perfect. English is not my first language ;-;

Oh and this time it's a female Half!Demon/Human Reader x Kurama. Just to let you know! Again as warning, much much fluff between you and Kurama.

The Dark Tournament was looking forward to its grand finale.

Team Toguro faced Team Urameshi, consisting of Yusuke, Kuwabara, Hiei and Kurama. Their fifth member, Mask, or rather Genkai, was 'killed' in battle by the younger Toguro brother the night before. Although you and your friends mourned about your deceased comrade, the others were not allowed to give in to their feelings now. One single mistake could result in the next death, everyone knew that.

You hadn't left your friend's side since the beginning of the Tournament and you were even allowed to stay at their side near the battle field. Though now you were concerned about the last battle.   You had asked to stand in for Mask as the fifth participant, but before you were able to speak to the competition officials, you were prevented from doing so by your friends, mostly Yusuke and especially Kurama. It was a lengthy and exhausting discussion that followed with the two of them. Yusuke was anything but calm and tried to dissuade you from your idea with irrelevant threats for "beating the shit out of you if you continue to try to participate". Of course he would never lay a finger on a friend, especially not if he were to draw the wrath of a certain fox on him ..

Speaking of the fox. It was Kurama's empathetic and factually convincing words that finally led you to abandon your idea and not take part in the fight. As much as you hated not being able to stand by your friends, it was clear to you aswell that you would not survive 2 minutes in the ring against a member of this diabolical team from Toguro .. It was just maddening ..

Before the fight started, you cleared your throat to attract the attention of your friends.

"Before you fight, I want to get rid of something .." you began and looked at the ground slightly.

"Spit it out, [Y/n]-chan." Kuwabara tried with a calm and understanding tone of voice to reassure you that none of them were mad at you for your earlier discussions. He thought that, because you were trembling all over and he could also tell that you were fighting back tears.

"I want you .. to be extra careful this time .. Your opponents are of a completely different caliber than all your opponents before .. And if ..Uh.. when you notice that you .. can't do it .. that you. . " you stopped, the thought of what should follow your sentence stung your heart. "... you will die if you keep going .. I beg you to give up .. just give up and end the fight .. Fuck this stupid tournament, your lives are way too precious ..!" you spoke a little louder and more determined as you looked at your four friends.

Hiei's expression was disinterested as always. Kuwabara looked away, slightly embarrassed, while Kurama had put on an illegible expression. Yusuke crossed his arms before briefly closing his eyes.

"Sorry, but we can't promise that." he said then.

"W-What ..?"

When you looked up, startled, you felt a hand on your shoulder. It was Yusuke's.

"If we give up, everything was in vain. Our training, the preliminary fights. And ... also the death of that old witch ... The least we owe her is to try to defeat her killer." He continued serious, but his face showed no sign of annoyance or anger towards you. He showed you .. friendliness and a small smile. "Anyway, thank you for taking care of us all. With that knowledge, we can do our best," he added.

"B-But .." your quiet objections were stopped again when Kurama took Yusuke's place and put both hands on your shoulders. A slightly worried smile graced his pale lips.

"Yusuke is right. If we give up here, everything we have been through so far will be wasted. Besides .." he continued and his expression darkened slightly as he looked at his opponents, especially at Karasu. "..we can't allow these .. monsters to continue their mischief to continue their murders in the world of spirits, demons and humans. If we don't stop them, who should do it?" he asked you.

You didn't know the answer and looked to the side. Kurama smiled sadly and put his hand on your cheek to turn your face back to him.

"Just trust us, okay?" He said softly and lovingly before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Kurama .. I trust you. But I'm still scared okay ..?"

"That's perfectly okay." The redhead whispered and you sighed softly.

"I'm serious. I don't want to go through the same fear that I did during your fight against Bakken ..."

"Mhm .."

[Flashback]

The battle against the members of Team Masho had reached worrying proportions after Kurama lost consciousness while standing shortly after he was named as the victor in the battle against the ice demon Touya by Koto. The rules of this match were like an endless battle. As long as a member could fight, he fought against any opponent. This is exactly how he had defeated Gama at first and was able to win against Touya with the last of his strength. But now the luck of the kitsune seemed to have run out when he stood bleeding and unconscious on the battlefield and Koto checked whether he was still alive.

"That's enough now! I'll take over for Kurama!" Yusuke called to the judge when the third opponent, a tall, dark-skinned man with short black hair, stepped out.

"Not so fast. That guy is still there, so I'm his opponent now." The shinobi grinned maliciously and was already flexing his fists.

"You can't be serious! You can see that he is not able to fight!" You said and looked angry at Bakken.

"You stay out of it, you brat. I say: He can fight." With these words he turned to Koto, who looked back and forth between the two parties, perplexed.

"Well .. Well .. I also think that Kurama is incapacitated. We have to wait for the decision of the competition committee before an exchange takes place .." the cat demon spoke uncertainly.

All attention was then turned to the speakers when the committee announced its decision. They disagreed with the exchange and declared Kurama's ability to fight.

Yusuke and you had to watch in shock when Bakken started hit the unconscious Kurama again and again and injured him so badly that it was a miracle if he could survive this ordeal for long. When Bakken pulled Kurama up by his top and beat him again, the fabric on the top tore and Kurama fell to the ground. Blood ran down his forehead.

While you could only watch in shock, the stadium echoed under the calls of the demonic audience, who very unanimously demanded only one thing.

"Kill him!"

"Kill him, Bakken!"

"Yes, kill this traitor !!!"

You clenched your fists in anger before turning to the bleachers.

"SHUT UP YOUR DAMN MOUTHS ALREADY!" you shouted so loudly that the stadium fell silent and Yusuke and the others looked at you too. "I CAN'T STAND YOUR HATE TIRADS ANYMORE! The next one who says anything about 'kill this bastard' will get a free ticket to hell from me. WAS THAT CLEAR?"

Your friends had seldom seen you so loud and serious. The girls, Botan, Shizuru, Keiko and Yukino were very shocked by your exclamation.

Suddenly one of the demons jumped down from the stands and stood next to you.

"Pretty loose mouth for such a shitty, weak half-breed, darling."the green-colored beast grinned and licked its lips with its iguana-like tongue. "You are nothing but a shabby one demon, who has human blood in them. It doesn't surprise me that you are on the traitors side. But don't open your mouth like that if you know what's good for you. " He threatened you.

Your eyebrow twitched menacingly as the demon extended its claws and tried to slit your stomach. You reached for your weapons,  chakrams, and a reddish-orange aura flooded the metal, your Reiki, mixed with Yoki. The audience held their breath when they could only hear lightning-fast cuts and white clouds of energy sliced the demon that was attacking you until the attacker fell dead to the ground.

"Anyone else has something to say to a " failed half-breed "? you asked the ranks, but the audience fell silent before you could finally devote yourself to the fighting again.

"T-That's enough! Kurama is on the ground and can no longer fight! I think a countdown is also unnecessary .." Koto interrupted the scene now when she saw the battered Kurama.

Bakken seemed to disagree and lifted Kurama up in the air again by his top.

"Now he's standing again. That means the fight goes on."the black-haired man smirked and wanted to make the final punch that should blow out Kurama's life light forever.

"Stop. That's enough, Bakken." a masked figure behind Bakken, another member of Team Mascho, spoke up.

"Why are you stopping me, Risho? I was just about to finish it." Bakken grumbled while Risho pointed to the opposite side of the arena.

"If you had landed this punch, that would have been your death." Risho spoke only dryly, while Bakken blinked and looked in the direction in which Risho was pointing.

Yusuke and you stood there, both of you in your strongest attacking postures. Yusuke was ready to use his "Rei-Gun" while your chakrams had turned into icy-tessen (Metal fans), the tips of their spikes were reinforced with your Reiki and turned into razor-sharp blades that could be shot individually. You were both ready to kill Bakken if he made any move.

"Tch. Fine. Well, you can have him back." Bakken sighed and threw Kurama carelessly out of the ring. Yusuke and you immediately rushed to the passed out Kitsune and Yusuke carried him to the edge of the ring. You were right behind him. After Yusuke dropped him off, you kneeled down at Kurama's side and looked up your human best friend.

"Yusuke." You spoke in a serious tone. Yusuke turned to you. questioningly. "... Beat the shit out of him. Hit that asshole really hard with a greeting from me." You muttered with bared teeth. Yusuke grinned and gave you a thumbs-up.

"Rely on me, [Y/n]. I will make sure that he gets a proper rubdown. And greetings from you. Just take care of our Kurama." Yusuke answered with a wink.

You nodded gently and put your hands on Kurama's damaged chest to let your Reiki flow into his body. That should give him enough energy to activate his own self-healing powers. At least that was how it prevented him from having too little energy.

He almost died ..

When Kurama woke up a little later, he promised you to never again risk his life so lightly.

[End of flashback]

"Remember your promise." you said softly and took Kurama's hand in yours to give it an affectionate squeeze. The fox just looked at you apologetically, but he was weighing whether he could really tell you that he couldn't keep this promise.

"I'm sorry. This may be my first promise, which I can't keep, as much as I would like to. But ..." he began before you could sigh in frustration. Kurama smiled and put a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'll give you a new promise for that." He said and made you blink in curiousity.

"One that you will keep?" you asked.

Kurama smiled and pulled you close for a moment.

"Yes. I promise you, if I survive my fight against Karasu .." he almost sounded as if he didn't believe in it himself, which only unsettled you even more. "... I will take you as my wife as soon as my human body is 18 years old."

Your eyes widened, speechless, at these words. Kurama, who had sworn off love and certainly did not want to settle down in the human world, had just given you the promise of marriage if he should emerge victorious from the battle ..

"K-Kurama .." you started, touched, when the Kitsune put his index and middle fingers on your lips and gently shook his head.

"I have to go into the ring now." He said, because the referee Juri had to call his name again.

Kurama broke away from you and went to the battlefield, where Karasu was already waiting for him. You held your breath as the fight began. It was going to be the hardest fight of all time for him, you were sure of it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The fight was clearly dominated by Karasu for a long time, who seemed to foresee every one of Kurama's steps. His rosewhip basically crumbled to dust before it could hit Karasu due to a miniature bomb that the black-haired man had already placed. Knowing that Kurama would resort to his signature attack.

Even the transformation into his Youko form only briefly gave Kurama the upper hand in this fight.

Karasu was strong, incredibly strong. Kurama was already bleeding profusely on his legs and arms from the bombs that hit his flesh. The transformation into his demon form had already reached its limits. Now everything seemed to be over for the redhead when he went down and his robe was already completely bathed in red blood.

It was a horrible sight, almost worse than Bakken's back then. Kurama stopped moving when Karasu tried to put an end to it.

With the very last of his strength, Kurama was able to mobilize his last reserves and thus also make his Reiki to zero when he conjured up a large, gray plant. Shortly afterwards he sagged dead and his friends, as well as you, cried out in agony.

"KURAMA!"

Karasu stopped. Not because he thought his opponent was dead, but because something had pierced his chest. Everyone stared in disbelief at the three vines of the plant that Kurama had conjured up with his last strength. They seemed to suck out Karasus blood.

"What is happening?" Kuwabara asked in disbelief.

"The plant sucks out its blood. Like a vampire." You explained and looked a little more composed again. Apparently you knew this technique. Since dated Kurama, the others weren't surprised.

Before the crowd could properly process what had happened, Karasu fell to the ground. His skin was pale from massive blood loss and his eyes were blank and torn. He was dead.

But what about Kurama?

Kurama opened his eyes. The bleeding wounds had closed again as if by a miracle and he straightened up slightly wobbly. Did the vampire plant fed him with the blood of his victim to save his life? It was the only logical explanation.

Tears now ran down your cheeks. No tears of sadness, tears of infinite joy. He was alive. Kurama had kept his promise and survived this fight.

Without hesitation for a second, after Juri made him the winner, you ran onto the battlefield and threw Kurama to the ground in a stormy embrace. The Redhead was unprepared for the impact and lost balance when you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"Idiot. Idiot idiot idiot." You repeated several times, still sobbing slightly. This kitsune almost seemed to enjoy causing you so much grief by letting himself be beaten up in every fight.

Kurama smiled gently and caressed your back soothingly.

"Ssh. Everything is fine.", He whispered and heard only briefly loud sobs before you pulled away from him and stared at him.

"DO. THAT. NEVER. AGAIN." You warned and if Kurama wasn't grinning at you so sweetly, your anger would also come across convincingly. Instead, you just sighed softly and patted him gently on the shoulder. "But you also have to keep your promise," you added.

"Don't worry, I will." Kurama chuckled and turned to Yusuke with a hand sign. You blinked perplexed when Yusuke grinned and threw a small velvet box to him. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that it was a box with a beautifully decorated rose on the lid.

"Kurama .."

Kurama got on one knee and took your hand in his.

"I should do this formally and properly, don't you think?" He laughed and you suddenly realized something.

"... You already planned everything in advance, right ...?" You wanted to know.

Kurama gave a small laugh and kissed your palm lovingly before looking intensely into your eyes.

"Quite possible. No, but .. I've never met a woman like you in my life - and that applies to my human and demonic life - and I never expected to lose my heart to someone who makes me as happy as you. "

"Kurama .."

Kurama smirked when you didn't let him finish and cleared his throat to continue.

"Originally I wanted to stay in the human world because my mother and my friends were so close to my heart. But now there is another reason why I don't want to leave this world anymore. I want you by my side until the end of my days and ... start a family with you. In the human world. That is why I ask you, here and now, [First Name] [Last Name], do you want to be my wife and eternal mate? ", He asked and opened the box. Inside it was the most beautiful diamond ring you ever saw. Its sides were adorned with two beautiful jewels, a shiny [gem with your eye color] and a shimmering emerald. It was more than obvious that these jewels symbolized the eye colors of the both of you.

"Yes .. Yes, I want Kurama. Of course I want that!" You said overjoyed and let a smiling Kurama put the ring on your finger before he pulled you to him and kissed you passionately.

"U-Unbelievable! A marriage proposal during the final of the Dark Tournament! I've never seen anything like it!"Koto announced, she sat in the crowd as the second announcer and looked dreamily at the engaged couple.

You smiled and looked at the ring.

"So beautiful. But something's missing," you mumbled.

"Huh?", Kurama asked and you turned to him and grinned slightly.

"A topaz." You answered with a smile.

Now Kurama was the one whose eyes widened and he even blushed a little.

A topaz as golden as Youko Kurama's eyes. His demon form.

Now he was more certain than ever. He would never let you go again. He swore to himself.

[noiamnotcrying]

Chapter 1:

Au where Remus and Nymphadora get to live.

After the war, Nymphadora and Remus help to rebuild Hogwarts and it is extremely sad for them, especially for Remus. Walking around the first place he was more than a monster, first place where he was able to have friends and knowing that every memory he has here is now defiled because the boy he once saw as a brother; caused the boy, who was the first person to see through his "illness", the first person that made him realize he was much, much more than "monster", to die. 

Knowing that every memory he has about this place is now a sad memory, knowing that what he once saw as a family is completely gone, and knowing that the boy, who slept in the hospital wing for days just to be with him, who gave him chocolates in the morning just to make him feel better, who disowned all of his family because they were disgusting; thought he could betray his family, thought Peter was more trustable and he is gone now, just 2 years after they got to chance to be friends again, just 2 years after he got the chance to be a marauder again.

It is even worse when he helps to rebuild the Quidditch pitch. It reminds him of the days when Sirius was the best beater in Hogwarts, when Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup for 3 years because James "Fleamont" Potter was the best seeker Hogwarts has ever seen. It reminds him of the days when he and Peter screamed to the point where they got hoarse to support their house, when Peter bragged about how his "brother" caught the snitch in 12 minutes; when he had to wear sandals for a week because he lost a bet to Sirius about whether he will be able to cripple the Slytherin seeker or not.

It reminds him of May 29th, 1976; when James Potter finally kissed Lily Evans after 5 years of him chewing every marauder ear off, and most importantly it reminds him that James and Lily didn't get to live enough to tell Harry about their days in Hogwarts, it reminds him that Sirius didn't get to chance to be a professional beater, it reminds him that Peter didn't get to chance to open the toy store he always dreamed about because he was a coward because he was not loyal as they thought he was; because Remus had this "illness" that made him unreliable on his best friends eyes.

And for Nymphadora; it hurts her most when she is helping with the Great hall. It reminds her of her first day in Hogwarts, how scared she was while walking towards the sorting hat because, for her, the possibility of being put in Slytherin means being a black and being a black means being the thing she hates the most. For her; being a black means, being Nymphadora, not Tonks. It reminds her of the day she gave Dumbledore a friendship bracelet and how he wore it for the rest of the term. It reminds her of 1986, her second year when her hair was blue for 2 weeks because Charlie Weasley was sad and his favorite color was blue. It reminds her of 1988, her fourth year when Hufflepuff won the house cup. It reminds her how happy Charlie Weasley was when he was talking about Fred being interested in dragons. And It reminds her that her friendship bracelet was gone now, it reminds her that blue hair can't help Charlie now because his little brother, his favorite brother is gone now. It reminds her how much they had to lose to win.

After the construction is done, they decide to walk around. They just hold hands and walk in silence -they don't need words to understand each other now-. When they are on the 4th floor, a magical door appears: room of requirements decides to show them itself. They walk in, knowing that they can't have what they actually need.

There is a table in the center of the room. There are 3 friendship bracelets and 3 little curios on the table. One bracelet identical to the one Nymphadora gave Dumbledore, one bracelet identical to the one her mother gave her, and one bracelet identical to the one she made for Charlie before he went to Romania… One little rat curio, one dog, and one stag.

There are two shelves near a mirror. One is filled with blue ribbons, little Hufflepuff house cup curios, and a miniature dragon you. Other is filled with toys, chocolate, and snitches.

And they see each other crying through the mirror; realizing that the room didn't have what they actually wanted but what they actually needed.

4 years after the war, when everything is slowly turning back to -a new- normal; a letter comes from McGonagall. She is offering both of them a teaching position in Hogwarts. For Remus, it is DADA; for Nymphadora it is Transfiguration. They accept happily. They redecorate the shrieking shack and move there as a family.

Remus loves teaching Patronus charm the most. After all, it is what made it clear that James and Lily were meant to be and every time he sees the "unexpected" reveal of soulmates; he feels the happiness filling his heart; knowing that they will get to live what Lily and James couldn't.

For Nymphadora; Crinus Muto is her favorite spell to teach because she knows how a change of hair color can help someone. She knows that sometimes seeing your favorite color walking around makes everything better and every time she sees a student use it; she feels the happiness filling her heart, knowing that it will be helpful now, knowing that it will do what she couldn't do for Charlie.

CHECK MY BLOG FOR CHAPTER 2!

[danger-xylophones]

The Ice General (Captain Rex x reader)

mobile’s fucking with formatting, sorry.

The Ice General is a miniseries following the love story of our one and only Captain Rex and the elusive and confusing Jedi general Y/n L/n. Certain aspects of the character of the Ice General have been chosen by me, the author, as a way to keep my sanity intact. 

This is narrated primarily from Rex’s perspective but it will shift to yours now and again. 

Words: 2160 

Warnings: Mentions of injury but that is about it

{Masterlist}

Taglist: @tararuthven // @questforgalas

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Captain Rex once heard that clones take on the personalities of the Jedi they serve. Now, he wasn’t exactly sure that that was true but the clone captain did believe that certain traits previously dormant could be awakened or amplified if the general they served had similar traits. Case in point: Commander Cody. Rex had known Cody for a long time and as a result, was pretty familiar with the way his vod thought and acted. Cody had always been thoughtful and calculated with plenty of sarcasm and snippy remarks to spare but Rex noticed that his endless wit had seemed to expand upon serving under General Kenobi. The captain noticed it with Commander Wolffe as well though to a more subtle but still heartwarming extent as Wolffe had always been compassionate if a little closed off. His brothers’ changes often left the captain wondering what personality traits he had let show after serving with General Skywalker and Commander Tano. 

But, bearing all this in mind, that didn’t mean that Rex could always guess the personality of the general based on the personality of the commander. Such is the case with CC-4290, better known as Commander Fritz of the 205th battalion or the right-hand man of the infamous Ice General. 

The 501st was en route to a backwater planet named Elaroth, a dry and miserable mining world ripe for a droid factory if the Grand Army didn’t claim it first. And while the men of the 501st were buzzing with anticipation for meeting the almost legendary general of the 205th, Rex was a little nervous and his orders to keep chatter to a minimum did little to quell the enthusiasm in the air. The general of the 205th was an...interesting character, or so he had been told. In truth, Rex knew about as much about her as anyone of his brothers outside of the 205th-that is to say, he knew almost nothing. He knew that her name was Y/n L/n and that she was a human Jedi who studied under Ki-Adi Mundi for ten years before being knighted shortly before the war. He also knew that she was known for her eery calmness and the ability to see through bantha skrag faster than anyone Rex knew personally. And of course-her tactics. Strike hard, strike fast, and stay out of sight as much as possible-confusion and mystery were the friends of the 205th, how ironic that that would extend to their general as well.  

Rex was pulled from his quiet ponderings by the sound of loud, boisterous laughter emanating from next to him. Commander Fritz clad in his blacks and the bottom portion of his teal painted armor was nearly doubled over as he guffawed at some joke a shiny had made. His messy silver hair was in disarray (a constant; Rex was starting to think that it was just the way he styled it) and it had moved to the side to reveal a black tattoo that read ‘Freedom’ in Mando’a on the back of his neck. The captain of the 501st had noticed that most of the veterans of the 205th had the same tattoo but in different locations and it caused a certain unease to arise in his gut. All he could think of was the words of his brother Slick who had spoken about how the clones were just slaves with different titles: they had no freedom. The reminder of Slick only encouraged his wariness of the Ice general. Why would her men all have the same tattoo? Had they gotten it as a way to cope? Was she a monster in disguise?

No, she couldn’t be. Commander Fritz spoke of her with such rapport and admiration. But, admiration can be faked. Rex’s more cynical side countered. He could be court-martialed if someone found out he held any distaste for his general. But, maybe he truly adored her? He had to, especially if what he had seen earlier was a regular occurrence. 

When the 501st touched down, they weren’t expecting to immediately be caught up in a fire-fight (though with a man like Skywalker as their general, they were always itching for one) that had them racing to rendezvous with Y/n L/n and Commander Fritz where they were trapped in a ravine with a rock slide slowing their retreat and a droid battalion intent on wiping them out. One of the medics had informed Captain Rex that the Seppies had already gotten to the planet and had built a factory that was producing units faster than the 205th could cut them down. If they didn’t move quickly, they would all die. 

The 501st had made it (they were the best for a reason) and together the two battalions were able to push the droids back to a dried-up delta that afforded them the one thing the 205th needed to win; mobility. After that, it was only a matter of time before the droid factory was destroyed by a mixed force of 501st boys and 205th. Though, in the midst of it all, a tank had managed to take a shot at the Commander. It had launched him back and Rex couldn’t forget the way General L/n had sprinted away from Skywalker’s side to get to him. She hadn’t panicked, she hadn’t yelled for her felled commander, she just ran to him and took her spot over his body, deflecting blaster bolts, like it was routine till one of the field medics could get to the silver-haired ARC. Rex remembered how her jaw was set and how still her face was as her arms worked to swing her dual lightsabers. She had looked bored as she stood over the knocked out commander. 

And when Fritz had been dragged away, she surged to the front again as though her commander hadn’t been injured at all. It was perplexing. But Rex couldn’t erase the image of the Jedi standing over Fritz’s body, ready to protect it whether he was dead or alive. That was the evidence Rex held onto that contested his theory that Y/n L/n was one of those generals that didn’t care for her men. 

Commander Fritz had been alright, just knocked unconscious and a little banged up from the blast and now he sat next to Rex barking out loud peals of laughter and acting like he hadn’t broken two ribs. “Try-try telling that to Ice-I dare ya!” The silver-haired man choked out between chuckles, pointing a hand at the shiny that had spoken from across the fire they had made. Rex felt out of the loop as he glanced between the 205th-ers and his boys who were all sharing varying looks of amusement. What had the shiny said? 

“Try telling me what?” A cool, even voice cut through the laughter like a blaster bolt through a calm meadow. In his peripheral, Rex saw Jesse, Fives, Echo, and Kix stiffen up and snap their attention towards the sound. The men of the 205th, however, were far laxer in giving their general their attention (minus the shiny Fritz had been laughing at who had gone pale and stiff). Rex was struck with the realization that General L/n’s tone was no different than the tone she had used when explaining the best move Skywalker could make to help her over the comms. It was a little unnerving. 

Y/n L/n was unnerving. She stood beside slightly in front of Skywalker, perched on the edge of the firelight. The warm light kissed the apples of her cheeks but did not quite illuminate her face, leaving her appearance mostly to the imagination. She looked like the physical embodiment of a shadow, distant, amorphous, ambiguous. The only thing keying the men into the fact that she was a real person was the datapad held firmly in her left hand and the rim-lighting on the most dynamic parts of her face. Her eyes were sharp as she scanned over the men though the captain could not tell if she was disdainful of their conduct and lax postures. 

“I-uh…” The shiny began uncertainly, looking around to his brothers for help. The veterans were smirking down at the shiny, unwilling to aid him in his struggle while the other shinies looked ready to piss themselves. 

“Go on, Boom, tell the general what you were going to say when she got out of her meeting.” Fritz waved his hand to signal the shiny to continue while he sat back with a smug grin. Briefly, the commander’s elbow dug into Rex’s side as he whispered ‘watch this’ out of the corner of his mouth. 

Boom swallowed and carded a hand over his shaved head, unable to meet General L/n’s inquisitive gaze. “I...I was just…”

“Go on, Boom, I am eager to hear what has Fritz so amused.” Y/n encouraged in the same even tone though she had slightly cocked her head to the side. 

Boom muttered a string of curses in Mando’a under his breath before finally deciding that he wasn’t going to get out of this easily if at all. Still unable to meet the general’s eyes, he summoned whatever courage he had left to at least spare his dignity and spoke. “I was going to ask if you needed a seat, ‘cause I’ve got one right here for you.” And with that, Boom hesitantly patted his thigh. Tension started to descend over the gathered group of clones as Y/n mulled the pick-up line over that threatened to break as a result of Fritz’s barely contained giggles. 

Y/n stepped into the light and Rex swore he heard the shiny take a sharp intake of breath, apparently already resigned to his demise. Her face was stoic and entirely unreadable as she faced Boom and regarded him with a swift once over. “Earn some more nicks in your armor, shiny, then we’ll talk.” Fritz and the other veterans lost it. All doubled over in laughter and the softly spoken retort. One of them who sat closest to Boom clapped him on the shoulder, commending him for his moxie. Rex swore he saw Y/n’s lips quirk upward momentarily before she was turning to look at the boys of the 501st who all sat pensively, still more than a little unsure of her. 

Noticing the tension in them, she addressed Skywalker over her shoulder. “Skywalker, you didn’t tell me your men were so serious.” Was she teasing them? It was hard to tell. 

“Normally they’re not.” Anakin answered, slightly baffled as he walked around to plop down on Rex’s right. 

“I think you’re reputation proceeds you, Ice.” Fritz chimed in before anyone else could with a poorly hidden wince as he scooted away from Rex and gestured for Y/n to sit. 

“Careful with those ribs, commander, or Bolt’ll have my head-you weren’t supposed to leave the med tent.” Y/n scolded in her still unwavering tone as she looked down at the injured man. Fritz shrugged. 

“Eh, you’re the general, General, tell him to can it.” The commander simpered nonchalantly, leaning back on his hands. 

“Or, as your general, I could court-martial you for insubordination.” Rex stiffened up, would she really do that? 

“With all due respect, General, kriff you.” Fritz bit back with a grin a parsec wide. There was a horrified gasp from what Rex suspected was Echo and frantic muttering from some of the shinies. 

Y/n seemed unfazed though as she sat beside Fritz and began pouring over the datapad in her hands. “I mean, you could if you wanted to but I feel I should inform you that I prefer blonds.” 

“Damn, what are they up to now, Hyde?” A veteran whistled lowly, reaching around Kix to poke at his brother who was wedged between the medic and Jesse. 

“22 to 3, Ice’s winnin’.” The redhead answered back quickly. 

“They do this a lot?” Jesse gasped in disbelief, looking to Hyde as he dug a piece of flimsi out of his glove and used some ash to mark it before folding it away. 

“All the time. We didn’t start to keep track of who wins the sass-offs till recently though.” Hyde explained. 

“I find it relaxing and it makes sure I stay sharp.” General L/n chimed in once again, eyes fixed on Jesse. “I just realized I never asked your names.”

“Fives.” The man in question stated with a lopsided smile. “This is Echo, that’s Kix, and that’s Jesse.” He waved his hand around to each clone as he said their names. Y/n nodded and closed her eyes, muttering their names under her breath in a move Rex recognized as a way to memorize them. 

“It’s nice to meet all of you.” Suddenly, Y/n turned to Rex. “And it’s nice to see you when we’re not getting shot at, Captain Rex.” And Rex’s questions multiplied. 

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