#what's causing it here (beyond just rage = child) because surely there's a process here

[flickeringart]

Planets in the 8th House

Like all the watery houses, the 8th house is mysterious and potent, yet it’s difficult to fully get a grasp of. The area of life that this house represents are usually summarized by worn out key words; death, transformation, regeneration, rebirth, sex, shared finances, the occult, hidden complexes, power struggles, trauma, crisis and the list goes on… from these words one gathers that the 8th is not a light-hearted sphere of life – it signifies struggle and emotional intensity. Having planets in the 8th, strong Pluto or Scorpio influence usually revolves around the same themes – paranoia, the striving for control and a tendency to keep things private and buried in order to sustain power.

I’m not going to discuss the difference of having strong Scorpio-Pluto placements vs. having planets in the 8th house in this post, but since the sign, planet and house are linked and are symbolic of the same themes, there’s a lot of overlap that is to be expected.

A person with planet(s) in the 8th will not act out the planetary principles consciously. Usually, the energy is felt through their aura, quiet but evident, as if the planet makes its presence known without revealing itself. For example, someone with Venus in the 8th might not openly declare affection and love, except in the most intimate of settings, but it’s unquestionably there. Picture the goddess of love living within a person as a body of water. She is there, but she is slippery and unable to manifest through conscious expression in daily life. The reason for planets in the 8th house “hiding” usually has something to do with fear of losing control, of exposing something taboo and risky that could have dire consequences.  We see this phenomenon in movies all the time – a person isn’t conscious of the fact the he or she is in love with a person but it’s obvious to everyone else – this would be typical of Venus in the 8th. One doesn’t dare to express it because it would alter the way of things, it would violate the sense of self-control and expose one’s vulnerability. Pain accompanies planets in the 8th, however benefic, because they impose themselves on the person and puts everything on the line. It’s a little bit like opening Pandora’s box – one can never go back to how things were before one fell in love, yet one resists the power with which one is pulled into a relationship. Even Venus and Jupiter, the most “positive” planets are operating in a way that makes the person feel out of control. Sure, it’s probably more positive to be invaded by love and abundance than anything else, but it can still be shocking and fearful to a person that doesn’t want to acknowledge the autonomy of the planet and has put up rigid defenses against it, only to have them be shattered. In the case of Venus in the 8th, personal love and affection is very private and usually has some kind of trauma or complex tied up with it. Looking at astrotheme’s database of people with Venus in the 8th , Miley Cyrus pops up at the top of the page with this placement. In some of her more personal songs, lyrics hint to her being afraid of love and intimacy. Even in her famous song “Wrecking Ball” she sings about falling under love’s spell and slowly seeing a relationship turn to “ashes on the ground”. If this isn’t typical symbolism of transformation through love I don’t know what is.

With the Moon in the 8th house, the person doesn’t openly express emotion – the emotions erupt volcanically from time to time, and it’s very uncomfortable for the person because there’s a feeling of being exposed and threatened that accompanies this release. Because of the fear that is tied up with emotion, the person might show dislike and defensiveness when faced with other people’s emotional expressions and needs. Sigmund Freud had his Moon in the 8th, which is very telling. He was obviously interested in uncovering the complexes behind certain reactions, presumably because he didn’t feel himself to be in control of his own emotions and inner life. He was certainly motivated to transform and free himself and his clients of the tight grip of the unconscious patterns of the 8th house. He explored the underlying mechanisms of repression, formulated the Oedipus complex and postulated the existence of libido – sexual energy with which the mental processes are invested. The Moon’s placement in the 8th would point to deeply rooted emotional and possibly sexual ties with the mother. The Oedipus complex is after all a desire for sexual involvement with the opposite sex and the presence of repressed incestuous instincts. Freud noted that he had wanted to marry his mother as a child to rival with the father and understood that it must be a universal principle among all boys in all cultures. This has not been thoroughly empirically proven, but it’s certainly reveals something about Freud’s own psychology. In any case with Moon in the 8th, the emotional and instinctual nature is accompanied with a sense of it being taboo and shameful. The emotional nature is experienced to be powerful beyond personal control.

Mercury in the 8th is a another story. Mercury is the planet of communication, thinking and deductive reasoning. When looking up people with this placement, it seems to me that it is common among people who speak up about uncomfortable topics, that which would be considered “risky business” to talk about. Prince Harry has this placement and he has been very open recently about his mental health struggles. Emma Watson has this placement and she has been an advocate for feminism and equality – preaching and advocating strongly with emotional investment when giving the famous UN speech in 2014. Lana Del Rey has this placement and she writes lyrics based on her own personal experiences, not shying away from dark topics like death, heartbreak, destructive and passionate relationships. It seems as if Mercury in this house gives the person a propensity for talking and thinking about that which in uncomfortable, for revealing difficult power-imbalances and dynamics taking place within the psyche. There’s usually a feeling of being cautious of what one reveals, of sitting on information that holds emotional power and that involves other people. With any planet in this house there’s a strong impulse to be aware of other people, in case of Mercury it’s what other people know and don’t know, what they say and don’t say. Mercury in the 8th might be indicative of a person who is controlled by what other people say and feels at the mercy of other people’s opinions – positively and negatively. The narratives and stories of other people might merge with the person on a deep level and fuel one’s own opinions. One might be exposed to challenging, discriminative and harmful opinions, even indoctrinated in them. When speaking one’s mind, one might have to summon a lot of bravery because more than likely there’s a bit of a chokehold that is being felt and effort that is required to break free from deeply instilled thought patterns. This placement could be indicative of a person that likes to think and communicate about deep and taboo topics, reveal and keep secrets.

With Mars in the 8th, one simple interpretation would be “someone who is prone to experience physical violence in intimate relationships”. Either one is the victim of it or the perpetrator, perhaps even a bystander or a protector. The violence, albeit linked to physical action, might just manifest in the form of acting without another’s best interest in mind. There’s usually a sense of being at the mercy of other people’s actions with this placement, but also of having no conscious control over one’s own motivations for doing things, one’s own drive to make things happen. Princess Diana had this placement, conjunct Pluto-Uranus, and she was far from feeling in absolute control of her direction in life. With Pluto-Mars the drive is buried and tied up with the primal survival instinct and latent rage. Her relationship with Prince Charles was anything but smooth and she felt like a victim to greater forces (Pluto-Uranus) making her act in a way that was, most certainly, driven by emotional complexes and not out of conscious will. She also behaved in a way with her compulsive eating and independent streak that was not favorably looked upon. J.F. Kennedy also had this placement, he too had difficulties on the relationship front, mostly because he had a compulsive sexual drive and had a lot of extramarital affairs. This is typical of Mars in the 8th being tied up with emotional complexes – he couldn’t stick to his wife; he had to prove himself and his masculinity through conquering women (he has Jupiter conjunct his Mars and we all know how faithful Jupiter was in mythology). His sexual appetite caused moral problems among the Secret Service agents who were employed to smuggle women in and out of the White House. His behavior was altogether inappropriate but somehow he survived politically as it was kept in the shadows. Diana certainly had her own extramarital affairs as well, perhaps to revenge Charles for his strong tie with Camilla and subsequent declining interest in their marriage. Mars in the 8th is undoubtedly indicative of action taken out of the need to retain emotional integrity, sometimes with unfavorable consequences. Notably, both Diana and J.F. Kennedy died suddenly, Diana in a car accident and J.F. Kennedy through assassination by a bullet. The 8th house is the house of death, and Mars here usually indicates a violent and sudden strike of “fate”.

Last but not least, let’s take a look at the Sun in the 8th house. The same people who shows up when searching for Mercury, Mars and even Venus, also have the Sun in this house; J.F. Kennedy, Lana Del Rey, Emma Watson and Prince Harry, which is not surprising considering that the inner planets never stray too far from the Sun. The Sun represents the ego, the sense of self-knowledge and self-awareness. The Sun is representative of the conscious center of the personality. This suggests that the people with this placement are painfully aware of death and violation, of the destructive nature of reality. While the Moon in the 8th might indicate that emotional reactions or lack thereof stem from deep seated autonomous complexes rooted in survival, the Sun might indicate a sense of self and self-expression that stems from the difficulties and hardships one has gone through. This placement can be understood in the sentiment “who am I without my trauma?”. There’s the tendency to identify with the ordeals of one’s life and how one overcame them (or didn’t). This dynamic is evident in all the people listed at the top of this paragraph. Prince Harry being a very obvious one that people make fun of nowadays – he’s coming out as a survivor of past down ancestral trauma, attempting to work through and shine a light on his personal struggles growing up within the Royal Family, attempting to separate himself from the curses of unconscious programming. Lana Del Rey certainly enjoys identifying and expressing the darker side of herself, illuminating the theme of death and emotional hardship in her songs. Emma Watson also seems to identify with the hurt and injustice present in the world and is a spokesperson for collective movements (Sun in the 8th, Leo in the 11th). J.F. Kennedy has the same Sun –Leo house setup as Emma, channeling his experience of personal hardships into his career and public life. In a sense, people who want to appeal to the masses and make a change on a large scale must be personally invested enough to fuel the movement. In the case of the 8th house being involved with Kennedy and Watson, they might feel as if their sense of self is dictated by other people’s values or that they would have to fight to remain in control of their sense of self. As the Sun relates to the father, the father figure might’ve been quite controlling, demanding and dominant. If the Moon in the 8thsays something about a mother complex, the Sun in the 8thdefinitely says something about a father complex.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

For each member of the Cullens, what do you think it would take for them to realize the extent of how unhinged Edward is and what do you think they would do about it, if anything?

Well, we’re going dark places today, aren’t we?

Alice

Alice is already fully aware of what Edward is, she simply doesn’t care.

There are visions that Alice misses, Edward thinks Alice misses the vast majority of Biology due to being hyper focused on Jasper (and likely missed the school massacre that Edward was seriously planning) but there is a lot she doesn’t miss.

Every time Edward thinks about how great it’d be to smash Mike Newton’s head like a watermelon, every time he considers devouring Bella, every time he enters her room unannounced to stare at her while she sleeps unawares, the time Edward considers genocide of the Quileute Tribe because of Jake’s telling Bella a story he doesn’t even believe, Alice knows.

It changes nothing for her.

She roots for Edward and Bella’s relationship, not because she knows for a certainty it will work out, but because it might. And that slim might, where Bella Swan might survive and become Edward’s lover as well as her own Barbie is worth everything they put Bella through to get there.

Also damningly, Alice cares very little for how good Edward is for Bella just as she cares very little for Bella period. Bella is Alice’s excuse to party and a dress up toy, but Alice will cut contact with her to a) please Edward b) prove a point to Edward.

Worse, Alice will take Bella to Italy, a city where she knows Bella will be killed with a 90% chance upon entry, on the slim chance that they might prevent Edward’s suicide. Yes, she vaguely explains the risk Bella’s taking, but she doesn’t say it in clear terms nor does she waste much time arguing.

Edward is far more important to Alice than Bella.

What I’m getting at is, thanks to her gift, Alice is intimately aware of just what Edward is capable of. She doesn’t care. And yes, there’s something to be said that Edward, more often than not, does not act upon these futures and he shouldn’t be condemned for choices he does not make. However, he does make some of them, and Alice knows.

There’s nothing I think Edward could do to either inform her that she was gravely wrong in how she perceived him or drive her away. Alice would be disappointed he’s thrown the family into such disarray but most likely would try to steer him away from whatever choice would cause such a rift.

She would aid, abet, and enable him because that is what will keep the Cullens together. Which is something Alice very much wants.

Carlisle

Carlisle lives in a river in Egypt, the water is made of double think. There are strong hints that Carlisle’s family is not quite as gung ho or altruistic about the diet as he is. Instead of being appalled, Carlisle quietly lowers his standards, and gives enthusiastic applause when Edward does things like choose not to brutally murder the serial rapist who nearly raped Bella. This is big growth for Edward! He also takes measures like sending family members who have accidents to their victims funeral, in the hopes that something, maybe, might make them see humans as people worthy of life.

If you asked him though, he’d talk about how amazing his family and the Denali are for the diet, and how he’s so proud to be a part of this community that values human life. LOOK HOW MUCH THEY VALUE IT.

When it comes to Edward, I think Edward holds a special place in Carlisle’s heart. He was not only the first person he turned, but Edward left and came back, to Carlisle this signaled that he’d found meaning and purpose in preserving human life. More, Edward... is very good at hiding what he is and is desperate that Carlisle above all others never see it.

Rather than have a conscience, most of the time, what stops Edward from “you name horrific action” of the day is the thought of “What would Carlisle say?” 

My point being, from the outside, especially to Carlisle, Edward truly does look like a noble soul. There are... flags, but they’re easily ignored or written off as issues with Edward’s emotional maturity.

Where Carlisle starts getting concerned is with Bella. Edward leaves for Alaska, great, Carlisle’s proud he was able to make that decision and know his limits. ThEn EdWArd CoMeS BaCK.

Edward comes back, in a week, nothing has changed, and he refuses to leave. Carlisle talks to him, Edward’s thinking he’s better than Hamburger and he can’t let her win, what he actually says to Carlisle is something along the lines of “I can’t run from my fears” Carlisle does an upside down smiley face then says, “Yes, you can, please do” And Edward doesn’t.

Things with Edward and this girl get progressively weird, but Carlisle is very proud that Edward sees the value of human life and not murdering a girl for being nearly hit by a van (this is how low Carlisle’s standards have become), and then Alice goes, “Oh, by the way, Edward is in love with this girl!”

Carlisle just sits there, “Alright then” and quietly puts aside his dreams of moving to a town where Edward doesn’t eat Bella Swan.

But I’m getting off track, this isn’t about canon where Carlisle can explain Edward’s actions away as noble but extreme, emotionally immature, and misguided.

Eating Bella’s not enough. Carlisle will see this as a tragic accident, something he foresaw, but something he assumes will haunt Edward for eternity. And, as it will haunt Edward for eternity (though not for the reasons Carlisle assumes) there will be nothing to make Carlisle question Edward’s character. He was young and foolish to think his limits were endless, but this was a tragic accident.

And it’s something, that in canon, Carlisle is hoping won’t happen but expects with helplessness.

I think there are a number of things that could do it. Had Edward eaten Biology, had he decided to defy Volturi law by eating Saint Marcus’ Square, but staying closer to the realm of possibility...

Had Edward forcibly aborted Bella, murdering her and her child in the process, or else if Renesmee didn’t have her gift, and Edward murdered her after her birth (assuming Jake didn’t get to it first).

Those actions cannot be excused away nor cannot be seen as tragic accidents. They are premeditated and evil, and yes evil is a strong word, yet here we are. This is Carlisle staring in the face of madness.

And that’s what it will take.

If Edward cheats on Bella, then while Carlisle is sad and disappointed, affairs happen and passion fades. More, Edward and Bella married awfully young and barely knew each other, this perhaps isn’t surprising.

If Edward eats a human Bella on the day she’s supposed to be turned, in very suspicious circumstances right at the last minute. Carlisle will know, deep down, but never allow himself to believe it. He’ll think Edward is utterly devestated and had let his guard down on that last day in anticipation of Bella’s turning.

This though, there’s no denying this.

I don’t believe Carlisle can kill Edward. Murder is not in his nature, and more, Edward is so dear to him. And now that this has happened, Carlisle would blame himself in part because surely, the human Edward Masen would never have become this. 

He’d likely reach out to Aro. Eclipse has happened, but not Breaking Dawn, and more everything is in question. He has to know the truth from a man who has seen Edward’s very soul. He goes in person, likely tells Edward his plans, and Edward rages but that doesn’t stop Carlisle.

Rosalie (more on her below) would never forgive Edward, ever, she is done. She and Emmett likely go with Carlisle to Volterra to hear the truth of what Edward is. Esme stays behind with Edward, torn in half, but unable to leave his side in this time of crisis. With that, her and Carlisle’s marriage completely dissolves on the spot. Alice stays with Edward as well, which means Jasper does to, though this likely starts the gears in head and he begins to contemplate leaving his wife. Though I imagine he won’t act for some time.

By the time Emmett, Rosalie, and Carlisle reach Volterra the coven is broken.

If Bella survived, if Edward murdered Renesmee while she was out of commission for three days, then I imagine she too goes to Volterra. Not for truth, but so that Aro can murder her, because there’s no point in living anymore.

Emmett

It would have to be beyond the pale extreme because Emmett gets more hints than most of the family (i.e. Carlisle and Rosalie).

Edward doesn’t really confide in Emmett, per se, but he does say some pretty damning things on their hunting trip in New Moon and give off varying vibes of crazy. Rather than realize that Edward, perhaps, is dangerous, Emmett only gets the feeling that Edward might not be alright in the head. Mostly, Emmett doesn’t want to think about it.

So he gets to listen to Edward raving about how Bella could be crushed by a meteor, wondering why Edward even cares when two days ago he didn’t give a flying fuck about this rando tasty human.

To Emmett, Edward has been laughing madly to himself for days, is now a  paranoid wreck, and is starting to creep him out but... Maybe if he ignores it, Edward will go back to normal?

Not helping is that Emmett doesn’t care about human life. He’s constantly telling Edward to treat himself and eat Bella, in a manner that suggests he vicariously wants to live through the delicious experience (as well as get Edward to calm down). 

If Edward eats Bella, Emmett will slap him on the back and say “Good job, bro!” If Edward eats Bella after the whole “love” thing, well, that’s weird, but, uh, “Sorry, bro?” If Edward murders all of Biology...

Then Emmet might do a double take and think, you know, maybe something’s not right with Edward.

I think he’d suggest he and Rose take a very long vacation and wait for things to calm down. Hoping that, if he ignores this, it will go away and Edward will return to a... saneish person.

What Rose thinks is a different story.

Esme

There is nothing on this planet that could tear Esme away from Edward. Esme’s purpose in life, the thing that gives her joy each morning and each night, is her family which you can condense down to Edward: the best and brightest of all of us.

We see it in canon.

The day after Edward decides he’s in love he acts like a lunatic. The car smells like Bella, as he kidnapped her for a ride home (Bella did not realize she had, in fact, been abducted. Edward does for two seconds then says to himself, “No, no, this is--completely necessary. I’M A MONSTER”

Jasper, Alice, Rosalie, and Emmett get to ride home in this Bella smelling car. Edward keeps laughing, like he’s in an opium den, it’s fucking weird. Edward offers no explanation, the car always smells like Bella, what are you talking about?

Edward then skips to the piano, giggling to himself, and sits down to compose. An action he hasn’t done in years. He’s still grinning and giggling to himself, by the way. Alice joins him at the piano, being equally cryptic and weird as usual. For some reason, Rosalie leaves the room in complete humiliation and shame. This is never explained to anyone watching.

Esme is sitting in the room, taking this all in, and thinks nothing. Instead she smiles, at beautiful Edward, and asks him to play the song he composed for her. She’s so glad to see him filled with joy again. She tells him that he is the best and brightest of all of them.

Esme later gives Edward her pretty much express permission to eat Bella if the girl is causing him such pain and misery. Luckily for Bella, Edward’s in love. So he passes on that and assures Esme the most wonderful thing has happened, he is in love.

My point being, Edward could drop the corpses of the students he murdered in Biology so he could more efficiently eat Bella at Esme’s feet and she wouldn’t blink. It wouldn’t even process for her. Esme would continue carrying on as Esme, nothing changing, while the rest of the family stares agog at the city Edward just murdered.

There is nothing Edward could do or say that would ever change Esme’s mind and she will always treat him as her favorite child.

Jasper

With his gift, I imagine Jasper suspects. Edward loathes Rosalie, despises him, and his feelings for others are... strange. He holds indifference and contempt for mankind and when it comes to Bella. Woof, what a cocktail.

He has no proof though, but I imagine if the smallest thing comes into his lap, that suspicion would become a certainty.

As for what he’d do, it’s hard to say.

I think, in most scenarios, he’d look the other way. Yes, Edward is a monater, but Jasper to is a monster if for different reasons, he has no room to judge. More, Edward is in many respects the heart of the Cullens, far more than Japser himself is. If Jasper goes causing strife, making accusations the others may or may not believe, then the coven could collapse.

This place, these people, are what Jasper thinks he’s been searching for all his life. For the first time, he knows peace, and is trying to live a life where he doesn’t persist in agony every time he succumbs to eating. Jasper is not going to risk that falling apart, even if he finds Edward unpleasant.

And if Edward keeps it to himself, or if the occasional human is the victim, then that’s a price Jasper is willing to pay.

Jasper might actually get concerned when it comes to Bella. For all Bella’s not very close with him, he holds her in very high regard. He nearly devoured Bella, and she forgave him, she forgave him his monstrously brutal past and has never flinched from him. She is a reminder of what humanity can be and why it’s important.

If he realized the threat Edward is to Bella, not just in eating her, but on a level much darker than that, then he might start to act and would probably try to get Bella to leave while she could. However, he also likely knows Bella would never listen, because she doesn’t see what Edward is and nothing would convince her otherwise. Not to mention, as soon as Jasper knows, Edward will plot against him so that no one in the family will ever listen to a word he says.

Not to mention that Alice, of course, must know and doesn’t care. That will be quite the blow to Jasper taking any action.

Barring extreme circumstances, Jasper does nothing, he just watches and waits to see what the others do.

Rosalie

For all that Edward doesn’t bother to be nice to Rosalie, and is ready to lay into her at a moment’s notice, he’s very dear to her. He is, in all regards, her brother and she cares for him deeply as she does the family as a whole.

Rosalie has no idea what he truly is and it would take a lot for her to accept it. More, unlike Carlisle, although she prizes human values and tries to hold herself to human standards her morals have slipped enough that she genuinely advocates murdering Bella Swan in her sleep so that Rosalie won’t have to move.

Murdering Bella won’t be enough, Rosalie will see it as the accident that could have been avoided if Edward hadn’t insisted on being a fool. 

I think, for Rosalie, the best way to drive it home would be a sexual crime. Had Edward forced Bella’s abortion in Breaking Dawn, that would have done it. First, it’d be such a messy, bloody, affair at that point and would look like a horror show (which means Edward’s more than likely to eat Bella in the process). Second, this would be Edward taking the child that Bella wanted, tearing it from her and murdering it, and performing the most vile action that Rosalie can likely even contemplate.

I don’t know what she’d do, I don’t think Rosalie’s capable of killing Edward, she cares for him too much, even after something like this. However, I think she would make an ultimatum to Carlisle “either he goes or I go” and then would never speak of Edward again, he’s dead to her.

[spookysmujer]

Piensa En Mi, O. Diaz

Summary: The relationship with you and Oscars suddenly ends after he gets locked up. Now it’s 4 years later..

warnings: HELLA angst, heartbreak 

word count: 1.9K

a/n: I had an itch to write today, thank you for requesting babes! Sorry it took this long to get done. I hope everyone is doing okay these days. PSA: Stop the hate against Asians! Speak up for our brothers and sisters, please. I love you all! Please consider: following, heart/comment/reblog my content! Thank you <)

Requested by @boujee-bitches!

(gif belongs to @merakiaes)

You can remember the day you realized just how much you were in love with Oscar Diaz. It was a few months into dating, he had been in and out of town on Santo business, and yet still was able to check in with you. He even sent you doordash multiple times. And in that one moment, as the doordash driver stood at your door, carrying a bag of your favorite pastrami sub, you truly felt your heart bleed for Oscar. The feelings entirely mutual with him. You can remember that exact moment you felt it, just as you remember the moment your heart had been ripped away. 

The consequence of having such a pristine memory is the ability to remember not only the good days but the hurtful ones as well. Now, after years of being with Oscar, he’s gone. Things had been going so well with the Santos and moving up in the ranks for him. Then in a matter of seconds, all that changed. The moment those handcuffs linked his wrists together behind his back as he was  whisked away in the back of the patrol car was the day everything changed.

Change. 

They always say that change is a good thing. But whoever they are, they were wrong. Change is malicious, it’s life-consuming and does nothing but harm. In the beginning you were confident everything would be okay. Nothing could break this man, he has been through the highest highs and the lowest lows. He has endured things as a young child that no child should. Even when the judge has sentenced him to 8 years, the look he gave you said: It’ll be okay, mamas.

For the first few months, things were good. The money he would send to you, you’d put on his books regardless of his wishes for you not to do so. The phone calls that didn’t last nearly as long as you wanted it to. And the letters, even if you talked on the phone and visited him often, Oscar still wrote you letters, and he always drew something for you. 

But it began to get difficult. When school started up in the fall, your full-time job and now taking care of his younger brother, you started to miss calls, needed to reschedule visits. And when you would answer, Oscar would give you the cold shoulder. He realized that you were beating yourself up for trying to juggle everything. He hated himself for making you so stressed just to make it to him. So on a surprise call that you weren’t expecting, he broke it to you that dating while he is incarcerated is foolish of you. It’s a waste of your time. Please take care of yourself and Cesar, we’ll see where we are when I’m out. But for now, it’ll be just me.

That day replays in your mind. No more calls, rejected visits, ghost letters. It felt like he died, though you would have been notified of it if that was the case. But that was 4 years ago, everything had changed and according to Cesar, it’s about to change again.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” You ask, after holding your breath. Spooky gets out tomorrow. 

Cesar shovels the rest of his cereal in his mouth and gulps down the remaining milk, rushing around the kitchen and gathering his school things, “Oscar. He gets out tomorrow. His sentence reduced to half the time, remember the hearing they had last week?”

Whenever Cesar would talk about his older brother, you would tune it out. Oscar breaking up with you over the phone without a thorough reason, then dropping you as a person all together really broke you beyond repair. But you had no choice but dust off your shoulders and keep going. 

You hum and nod, packing your lunch.Without saying anything else, you head back to your room to get your things ready for work. As you pass by the room that Cesar had taken residency in, you notice the packed bags. “Cesar!” 

But by the time you make it back to the kitchen, he has already left out the door. Was he about to leave? Did he want out now that Oscar will be out? Though the idea was to care for Cesar while his brother was locked up, to know he is already ready to up and leave, hurts you. But you shake it off, Oscar is coming home, shit. 

Your day goes by painstakingly slow. All you could think about is how it would go when you’d see him again, how will you feel? What about him, what will he feel?

“Y/N, did you hear me?” Cesars voice sounds from across the table, the two of you enjoying some take-out. The day has gone from slower than a sloth to as quick as sonic the hedgehog.

He stares at you, waiting for you to respond. “Now that Oscar is getting out, it’s time for you to head on back home. Yeah, I heard you. Just sucks is all, I feel like my daily routine will be all messed up.” You joke to which he grins at. 

The next day comes by in a blink of an eye. Here you are leaning against your car that is parked in front of Oscars house. You can’t bring yourself to walk up those stairs and face him. But he hasn’t exited the house yet, you wonder if he even will. After Cesar gets the last bag is when you hear the front door. He makes his way towards you, your breath getting stuck in your airways. 

Cesar hugs you and thanks you again, you squeeze him and ask that he doesn’t be a stranger. Then there stood, you and Oscar. He stares at you for a long moment, studying you. It’s been nearly 4 years since he’s seen you. You are the same with little differences here and there, “You finally pierced your nose.” He points out. 

You purse your lips and nod, scoffing and looking him in the eyes, “Almost 1,300 days of not talking to me and seeing me…. And my nose ring is the first thing you say to me?” 

It wasn’t the plan to argue, you wanted to ask him to be kind to Cesar and take care of him then be on your merry way. But being in his physical presence now, it’s made your blood boil. How could he stand there like nothing had happened between you? The history you two have was an epic love and heartbreak but by the look on his face, it’s as if you are a stranger in passing. 

He licks his bottom lip and digs his hands into his shorts pockets, “What you want me to say? I said all I needed to that day on the phone.”

Your arms uncross from over your chest and your mouth falls slightly open. But before you can let out the rage that’s been building up continuously over the years, “I miss you, querida.” He watches your face contort to confusion then back to anger. He nearly smiles to see that you are still the hot head you’ve always been.

The words weren’t coming out as you wanted them to. All you could do was stomp past him to leave but he grabs your upper arm to stop you. You look down to where his hand wraps around your arm then up to his eyes, the look you give him is loud enough for him to let go.

“Can you just listen to me? You think I wanted to break things off? That it didn’t hurt me just as much as it hurt you?” Oscar begins, standing directly in front of you and slightly craning his head down. “I fucking hated that I did that to you, mami. The last thing I want in this world is not being with you, to cause you pain and to have done that when I was locked up? I hated it. Every single day. But I needed to do it because all I was doing was holding you back. I couldn’t bare knowing that I was making your life hard.”

An eruption of laughter sounds from you, you hold your stomach and one hand clamped over your mouth, hunching over from how hilarious you find his last sentence. Though anyone else hearing it wouldn’t really laugh, seeing as it wasn’t a funny statement. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. But do you hear yourself? You thought breaking up would be better. I don’t know if there was ever a time during our relationship prior that I made you feel I couldn’t handle something like you being locked up, I am terribly sorry if I had but I thought I proved to you that I was more than in love with you, I was hopelessly devoted to you, I was willing to endure it all, every call or visit. I was ready to work hard to make sure you could make tienda… but what did I do or what did I say to make you think otherwise?”

Oscar feels the chains on his heart tighten with every word you say. He doesn’t know what hurts him more, the break-up or now knowing how worthless it made you feel. He knows you are an understanding person, but his intentions didn’t settle as he hoped it would. 

It takes all his might to resist pulling you into a hug, With how you reacted to his touch just moments ago, he knows a hug would only result in profanities being spewed out. As if a hug could magically glue the pieces back together and fix it all. “You didn’t do shit wrong, Y/N. You were the epitome of a down ass girl. But all I could see was the tiredness in your face when you would visit me because you were playing mother to Cesar meanwhile trying to juggle everything else. Trying to make sure you would always come to see me… so I thought ending everything would be better, I thought you would be better off.”

The rage and ache in your heart fights against each other. He is saying one thing but to you its processing as nothing but an excuse. You want to yell and thrash your fists against his chest so he can feel just a sliver of what you went through. 

“I was better off with you. It didn’t matter to me what we were going through Oscar… If it was something joyous or something scrutinizing, as long it was with you and we were together, I wanted it all with you. I was ready to go through this journey with you. But you just gave up on us like that.” You snap your fingers and blink away the tears that had begun pooling for sometime now. His shoulders cave in and he dips his head down, unable to keep his eyes locked onto yours. 

“Give me a chance to prove that I haven’t given up on you or us.”

You wanted to laugh again. To point and scream how silly he sounds and to catch the circus act before they leave town but the way he says it is the reason you didn’t. How low his voice is, how soft his eyes are and his walls had dropped to below sea level is what made you stand so incredibly still.

Do you take the chance? Should push aside all the vines and roots that have grown over the chest labeled: Oscar, to let him in again? 

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[winchesterxxi]

Enough is Enough (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Rating: T (Teen and Up)

Type: Angst

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Female!Reader

Summary: Reader and Poe have been arguing for over a week and completely avoiding each other. This has come to the attention to the person that happens to be your third wheel most of the time - Finn. Along with BB8 and Rey they come up with a plan to get the two of you talking.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Swearing

A/N: I’m back baby.

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It’s only 8am on a Monday and you already feel like murdering people.

Your fiancé to be exact.

As soon as your alarm had sounded across the room, you jumped out of bed and headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You brushed your teeth and hair, got dressed and walked out into the bedroom, striding across it and out the other door.

Poe was awake, facing the door, and he saw you walk out, eyes trailing after your back but a scowl firm on his face. He really had fucked up, and he knew it. But for fuck’s sake, you’re both adults, if you are going to give him the silent treatment like a child, he is not above doing the same to you.

So out he goes. He rises from the bed, tired hand running through his unruly curls at the same time as a yawn proceeding to complete his morning routine, before striding across the same path as you, grabbing his pilot jacket in the process.

The cantina was packed – it’s a Monday morning, of course it is. Pilots, mechanics and Resistance workers from all branches crammed along the trayline trying to get the freshest pieces of toast or the juiciest pieces of fruit before the others could get to them.

Poe doesn’t blame them. Most of these people were either on the brick of hunger and homelessness or being deprived of their needs by the Empire before they had been recruited the Resistance and the fact that they now had warm meals every day for which they paid with their own sweat, was something to be cherished.

The latter case resembled that of Finn who he spotted at one of the tables, and he made a b line to seat next to his friend. Upon getting closer he noticed that Finn was sitting in front of Rey who, in her turn was sitting next to…you.

That’s fine. This is fine. This is absolutely fine.

Before going to the table, Poe decides to take a detour and get some breakfast before sitting down. Because he was hungry. Not because this would buy him some time before inevitably sitting down in front of you and try to contain the immense annoyance you’ve been causing him for the past week.

After a few moments, Poe looks down at his tray and its fullness, food about to spill out – more food than he could ever possibly stomach. He closes his eyes and sighs before an Ewok is pushing him away from where he stood in front of the pastry baskets. Straightening himself back up, Poe finally walks up to the table, flashing a smile at Finn before setting his tray down next to him and sitting in front of you.

When he passes your side you can sense his cologne invade your nostrils and, somehow, that only makes you angrier.

“Morning, pilot.” Rey teases but her smile quickly retracts once she spots the scowl on both your faces, looking from Poe to you and to him again. Finn senses the heavy energy and eyes Rey who gives him a silent clueless shrug.

“So,” Finn asks “what plans does the Dameron couple have for today?”

It’s as if the guy read your minds.

“I don’t know of any couple that goes by that name.” You mumble into your spoon of oatmeal and Poe’s eyes zero in on you.

Panic flashes across Finn and Rey’s once they hear you. Did the two of you break up? Is the wedding off?

“People are individuals, you know, Finn.” You settle down your spoon and turn your face to him, elaborating with a tone that had a slight taint of menace in it “Even though a couple is in a relationship they remain individuals.” You point the tone in word individuals, eyes narrowing to the man in front of you. Rey and Finn exchange a look.

“The fact that people are individuals doesn’t mean they can’t share a part of the other’s identity.” He snakes into the rim of his cup of coffee, eyes never leaving yours.

“It does if that meant they had to give up a part of their own identity.” You snap back, voice low.

“I’m not sure I follow.” Rey wavers and looks between the two of you.

“Thing is, Rey.” You turn to her “and Finn… there is no Dameron couple. There is a Poe Dameron and Y/N Y/L/N couple. But I’m not even too sure of that now.”

Poe puts his mug of coffee down a little too abruptly as he leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“Are you really that entitled?”

“I’m the one who’s entitled? Have you heard yourself speak lately?” you mimic his movements, leaning forward on your own side of the table

“Why is it such a big deal for you?”

“Because it’s who I am!” you borderline-scream and get all of the cantina’s attention drawn to you, specifically those of the two people sitting next to you, looking in shock at your sudden outburst, which they’d never even gotten a glimpse of.

You and Poe hold each other’s gaze for a long while, focused on nothing but each other and the mix of rage and hurt rumbling inside of you. And when you can’t help your lips from trembling and your eyes to burn with tears, you swear you can see something break inside of him.

He himself swore he was about to break this stupid game the minute he saw your face. For the glimpse of a second, he felt like reaching his hand up to cup your face, or to hold your hand or to stroke your jawline in that way that calmed you down. But before he could act on his impulses, you stormed out of the cantina, leaving behind your cooling breakfast and a torn Poe.

“What did you do?” Rey asks horrified at what she just witness and somewhat ready to throw fists at the man who seemingly broke her friend’s heart.

“It’s not what I did it’s what I said.” He mumbles and stands up from his own seat and, just like you, leaving behind an untouched tray of food and a half cup of coffee while Finn and Rey follow him with their gaze.

It was nice of Rey to ask you to go out for drinks tonight. Not just that, but she didn’t ask questions – she didn’t throw you a pity what was that about? or are you okay? Because it obviously wasn’t. It wasn’t and you don’t think it would ever be again.

So here you were, walking into a low-light bar in Canto Bight in your favourite pair of dress and shoes with nothing in your mind but the drink you were eager to order and the friend you were looking forward to meeting – a luxury that, just a few months ago would not have been possible. When you’re fighting for your own survival, a night at the bar isn’t exactly your top priority, but that was in the past.

Straightening yourself up, you smooth your dress and walk over to the table with the number she had told you – number 15. Upon reaching it, you sat down facing the door and nudging away the waiter who comes by to ask if you’d like a drink. There was no way in the galaxy you were starting the drinking night alone. Maker knows how that would end.

It had just been a few minutes of fidgeting with the table towel when you look up to the bar’s entrance and your eyes meet the last person you wanted to see. Poe. And damn, if it weren’t for the current situation he would’ve knocked the wind right out of you.

He looked good. Shinny curls and a fresh face with his good leather jacket. He looked really good. And you hated him for that.

He didn’t quite spot you until he was halfway across the bar in the direction you were sitting in, eyes coming into focus on your figure as you quickly stood up and took a small step back. Standing to your full height, Poe swears he’d never seen you look so perfect, which made the energy between the two of you all the more painful.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, hugging your arms close to your body.

“I’m here to meet Finn.” He replies, hands nervously spasming by his side, a habit you’d come to know and love.

“On this table?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m here to meet Rey.” You answer quietly, scoffing.

“It’s a two people table.” He says matter-of-factly.

“And they’re not here.”

“But we are.”

Realization struck the both of you and Poe runs a hand over his exasperated face as you throw your head back and close your eyes. He sighs deeply before bringing one hand up to his hip.

“Can we then at least talk?”

You scoff at him.

“No.” Is your simple one-word answer before you try and make your way to the door, which he blocks.

“Y/N –“

“No. Are you going to let me pass?” he doesn’t move.

“For fuck’s sake Y/N.”

You scowl and turn around striding to where you know to be an elevator – if you can’t get out, at least you can go up. At this point, being on a different floor was enough. You can hear him mumbling words behind you but you try to pay him no intention, beyond grateful that the elevator’s doors opened as soon as you clicked the button.

“Fuck you Dameron.”

Stepping in, your not quick enough to press the closing button before Poe is slithering between the almost-closed doors and stepping into the same space as you.

“Oh, now you’re okay with using my last name?”

“When addressing you? Yeah, totally.” You nudge him so you can reach the buttons and press R for rooftop. He does a double-take on you before running his fingers across all the floors. You look up at him incredulously. “Really mature.”

“Mature is talking. And we are going to talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about!”

“Will you talk to me?”

“I don’t want t---” you were about to scream when the elevator came to a halt and you stumbled into Poe’s arms, before standing right up, the lights above you flickering.

“Great! Just what we needed.” he throws his hands up in the air, and now you really thought you could slap him across his beautiful face.

“Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t pressed all the buttons like a kid!”

- Meanwhile, above the elevator -

“BB8.” Finn whisper yells from the open door, three floors above. “How long can you hold them?”

The poor droid, with his little tools stuck in the flashing wires, beeps in response.

“He said maybe 5 more minutes.” Rey translates, before flopping back on the floor and away from the open door and the empty elevator space. After a few moments in silence, she nudges Finn’s side.

“Don’t you think this is adding fuel to the fire?”

“They just need to talk. Plus they’ve been avoiding each other. We’re doing them a favour.”

- Back on the elevator –

Taking in a deep breath you lean back against one of the elevator’s golden mirror walls.

“Why did you get like that when I said I wanted to keep my name?”

“I… do you really hate the idea of being called a Dameron so much?” his voice is small as he stands in the middle of the floor, eyes searching yours.

“It’s not that! I just… I hate the idea that just because we’re getting married I need to give up being called by my last name. I never wanted that! It’s not because it’s you. I told myself that if I ever was to get married I’d never take another man’s name.” Tears are back at pooling at the corners of your eyes as you turn your head slightly to look into Poe’s sad face.

“Or maybe you just don’t want to be known as the ex-spice-runner’s-wife.” His statement is but a whisper as his voice gets caught in the back of his throat and you have never seen him this close to tears.

That’s what does it for you. That’s what makes you reach forward and grab his warm face in your hands, guiding him to look at you.

“Hey, hey… That is not true. Don’t you ever think that. I love you. I love you for who you were, who you are and who you’re yet to be… which I hope to be there to cherish.” The tears roll down both your cheeks as a breathy chuckle leaves you. “It’s not about your name. It’s about mine. And I… it really hurt me when you said those things. Acting as if me keeping my name was a sin or something.”

He averts your gaze, looking at the floor but you motion his face back to where it was.

“Hey. Here…” you guide one of his hands to where your heart beats “I’m already a Dameron. Have been for a long time. Just not on paper. And at the end of the day… what is more important?”

It’s his turn to cup your face and bring his forehead close to yours. “I’m so sorry. I was an idiot… thank you for…this.”

“No, thank you.”

His hands are the ones that pull your face up and wipe a stray tear from the corner of your eye, before stroking your cheekbones with a feather-light touch.

“You look beautiful-- ”

“I love you.”

It’s a short and exasperate sentence, but you’ve gone almost two weeks without saying it and Maker, how you missed the way it sounded and the way it felt rolling out of your lips. Poe could say the same, the deprivation of that sentence that he has suffered sending a bolt of warmth across his body as if this were your first date all those years ago.

For a moment your eyes cross, but before too long he is lunching forward and capturing your lips in his. The tears came again as he held onto the kiss as if that was the only thing keeping him alive.

You were reluctant to pull away from the sweet embrace, but you did. And you were met with the sweet smile you had missed.

“What do we say we go downstairs… I have a feeling there’s a table waiting just for us.” He jokes, running a quick hand over his watery eyes and you chuckle at the timely joke.

“Yeah, yeah… I’d like that.” You smile, grabbing his cheek and kissing it once again. And, as if on queue. The elevator starts working again, lights flickering for a few seconds, and the only button that was on was that of the Ground floor from which you were trying to get away from just a few minutes before.

Little did the two of you know that attached to the roof of the elevator was a happy BB8 as the compartment went down and, just a few floors above, two very content Resistance members, high-fiving.

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[saphirered]

I Don’t Hate You (Vagrant pt3.)

The lady at the front desk gives you a dirty look as you come straggling in, leaving a wet trail behind you, boots sopping with an equally disgruntled expression on your face. You toss her a coin, if only to be done with it all and go back up the stairs. There you see, Fjord is no longer sitting in the hallway and probably either has gotten himself a room of his own or Molly’s taken mercy upon the half-orc and let him sleep peacefully and undisturbed in their shared room. A sense of dread still lingers as you approach your door and you take a sip from the opened bottle in your hand, hoping to find some courage to push you over the edge and just get it over with. You can see the hint of orange light bleeding through the small gap. 

When the door opens Caleb looks up from his book, or well, your book. You look like an absolute mess and he knows you know you do. It’s an unspoken agreement to not comment on this fact made in that brief moment of eye contact, for both of your sakes. 

“Do not question my terrible life’s choices, Widogast.” You grumble as you let yourself fall backwards on your bed. You don’t even have the energy to magic away the remainders of the rain that kept you company from your soaked person. Well, that or the fact that the droplets rolling down your skin hid the tears from the panic attack and brief existential crisis you had on that rooftop before you came down. 

Caleb puts down the book, gets up from the bed and slowly and carefully inches over to your side of the room. He hesitantly sits down on the edge. You have half the mind to kick him off just because but can’t find the energy to do so. Despite your distaste for magic users like him, being alone after your mental breakdown you just experienced, really sucks. Caleb pats your knee awkwardly in an attempt to comfort but not wanting to cross any boundaries. It’s pathetic, he knows because one can hardly fix a stab wound by slapping on a bandaid. His own past experiences have left him a tad bit at a loss when it comes to comforting a person in pain, especially one so stubborn and crass as you have been towards him. 

Still, Caleb has figured out your hatred isn’t directed at him personally. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s people with abilities like him that have played a part in your past causing you pain and suffering and the wound is still very fresh, hence your trauma being reflected onto him, despite his complete lack of involvement in your before the moment you met. It may not have helped that your hostility towards him hasn’t exactly encouraged him to try and build a proper relationship with you. He hardly even knows you yet still he feels as if he knows your tells, the things you go through and why you act like you do. He may not know the details of your life but he feels safe to say he knows you better than any of the others. 

It’s not his lack of knowledge and insight into your life beyond what’s surface and what he can read off you that holds him back. It’s the fear of what he might find within you that will tear open wounds of his own he’s worked so hard to cover up. It’s the fear you might be one step ahead of him in a similar story and there is no hope for people like you and him after all. It’s the fear those you run from are the same people he has tried so hard to escape. It’s the fear of you, that you might be each others’ salvation, or undoing because he knows what he has the capability to become, what you could become. 

But here you lie, upon your bed curled up, traces of tears long since fallen, possibly even ran out, tightness in your throat, indents of your nails in your palms from clenching too much, frustration and anger in your eyes is still overwhelmed by pain and hopelessness and a wish the void would just come and claim you, where you no longer fear the consequences of running and will be able to obliterate those who caused you so much hurt, or die trying in the process. Caleb is reminded of himself in that cell of his own, for years, a broken mind piecing itself together from the shambles it was left in, barely a shell of what it used to be. 

When he promised himself he would do anything and everything in his power to take down these tormentors and their accomplices so no one would ever have to suffer like he had, still is suffering, Caleb didn’t expect to find you. He still remembers himself begging, praying, screaming just to not be alone, to have someone tell him there is still hope and not all is lost. There’s still good in this wretched world and if the world turns bleak, it’s up to you to be that good despite everything. Those were the pretty words and empty promises of a dreamer but does that make them a lie? 

“Don’t patronise me. I’m not some fragile broken child in need of mothering.” Caleb retreats his hand, clasping them together in his lap as he studies your face. Your eyes are cold, your expression matching. A mask, he knows. A way to protect yourself. 

“Good. Because I have no intention of doing so. I want you to be blunt and truthful and I don’t want you to hold back. I want you to humour me and answer some questions.” You raise an eyebrow expecting there to be something behind Caleb’s request but his stare is unreadable, like a practiced mask of his own. 

“You want me to be blunt and give you a peace of my mind?” You humour. You’ll tell the asshole okay. You’ll bicker and fight and quarrel if that’s what he wants no problem. Maybe a battle of wits and words will get you back into your groove. 

Little do you know that is in fact not what Caleb is looking for. Not exactly. He isn’t looking for a fight. He’s looking for answers, how to help you despite your differences because no one deserves to go through this, especially not alone. So because of that, he will not humour you in turn with his usual reply to your attempts to push him. He doesn’t intend this to end in another futile empty argument. Not now. So he’ll drop the game and go straight for the jugular. 

“Why do you hate me?” You freeze at the abrupt and sudden question. Caleb knows you don’t really hate him personally but coddling you won’t work and some things you’ll have to realise by yourself first. Finding the strength to lean up on your elbows you tilt your head at him as a half smirk creeps upon your lips.

“Because you’re an egotistical self-serving bastard who cares for nothing but himself and the people useful to him, until they outlive their usefulness.” The words are meant to cut like knives and usually you’d get a rise out of Caleb by such a statement but when you don’t see any response to your words, nothing but those blue eyes staring into yours so… unbothered, it feels as if those knives are turned onto you instead. You’re not quick enough to get rid of that tiny hint of guilt slithering across your features. 

“Why do you hate me?” Caleb asks again, voice still calm like it’s the most unremarkable question ever. He could have asked you about the weather with that tone. 

“Because you’re an asshole.” 

“Why do you hate me?” 

“Seriously? I already gave you an answer. Was I not clear the first time?” That guilt in your stomach starts growing, festering. There’s something in your mind pushing through but you try to fight it off, not liking the thought of being faced with those emotions. You’ve worked too hard to push them away. 

“Just answer the question. Why do you hate me?” Caleb sees you struggle. Your first answers where in the blink of an eye, a defence mechanism slipping into place. That works, for a while, until it doesn’t, until you start questioning it and give yourself a moment to think.

“Because…” Because you’re a coward. Because you run from your problems. Because you leave other people to swipe up the mess for you. Because you’re a monster to blame for the pain of others. Because you’re to blame for your own pain. Because you couldn’t save them. Because. Because. Because. Those are not reasons you hate Caleb. You take in a sharp breath, clenching your jaw in anger, nose scrunching holding at bay the curses from passing your lips and the threat of all your emotions from spilling out like a breaking dam. 

“Why do you hate me?” The words now, do not sound void of emotion, but instead are filled with a warmth and pity. Damn him! Damn him to the hells and abyss! When you don’t answer he repeats it again. Caleb gives you amicable time to answer, leaving a long silence to give your mind the time and space to think for itself, analyse and process and you hate every second of it because you can’t stop it. The cracks in the walls you’ve tried to hard to build become more apparent by the second. He asks again. 

“I don’t bloody hate you!” You shout, pretty sure you may just have woken up the entire floor. The silence after the words leave your lips is deafening. 

“Then what do you hate about me that causes you to act the way you do?” Your hands clench back into fists, your nails pressing down again in the still tender skin from but minutes ago. You don’t want to say it. You really don’t but that pain raging through your body wants to get out and you feel the floodgates opening inch by inch despite your efforts to fight it. Then there’s that voice in the back of your mind; maybe speaking the unspoken will give you some peace. 

“I don’t hate you! I just hate what your remind me of. It’s like you’re here to personally torture me so please just leave me alone to suffer, get over it and move on.” You don’t want to remember the last time you pleaded for something, and had hoped to never plead for anything again yet here you are. 

“I am going to give you a choice and I’ll only offer it once, so listen very carefully.” You’ve never seen Caleb look so intense, so genuine, and so determined. You can’t do anything but listen so you nod, signalling him to continue and that you’re paying attention to his every word and not to twist them for your own amusement for once. Whatever previous relation, or rather lack thereof you’ve had is gone now. There’s only you two, in a place of vulnerability and without judgement. 

“You’ve got two options. One; you tell me to piss off, like you usually do. I’ll go back to bed, back to sleep and leave you alone. We will never speak of this again, never mention this and go our separate ways. We will remain cordial when interacting and won’t let our own grievances get in the way of the others.” You take in the words, nodding to confirm you understand. 

“Or two; you and I are going to talk. You are going to tell me what you wish, and can tell me provided it’s the truth and I will listen. If you wish to tell me your life story I will listen. If you wish to tell me all your troubles I will listen. If you wish to share your pain, I will listen. And know that I will help you if you’ll allow me to. Because if you keep doing this on your own, let the guilt and grief and pain swallow you whole, I know exactly where it will lead. Do not allow it to be your undoing, or turn you into a person beyond your recognition.” Midway through his offer your eyes have closed and your brow furrows. You bit your lip and that combined with the movement of your eyes behind your eyelids are the only indication to Caleb you’re still listening to him. 

Caleb gives you time. He doesn’t expect an answer right away. That’s not how this works but he does study you, attempting to get an inkling of what’s going through your mind. He feels warmth wrap around his wrist, glancing down to notice your fingers have wrapped around it and hold on tightly. You’re holding onto a lifeline and he knows it. 

“Why?” Your, words a pained choke, you don’t dare open your eyes, don’t trust the look in Caleb’s eyes to tear down what last defences you had up and turning you into even more of a broken mess. 

“Because despite what people might have you believe, there is still good in this world.” You’re unable to stifle a sob, feeling a tear slide down your cheek. 

“I’ve not known much kindness in my life but I feel confident in saying this is the kindest thing anyone has ever offered me. It’s why my pervious actions and words towards you make me feel like an absolute ass even more. I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me.” You release Caleb’s wrist, feeling grounded once more despite the buzzing in your head and twiddle with your fingers awaiting a response, the tense air slowly lifting as you sit in peace and silence. 

You nod, wiping at the corners of your eyes before you open them, a bit more red and puffy than they were before you entered the room. You finally look at the wizard and take in a deep breath before nodding again. If it were anyone else, any other moment you might have said no. You’d even have laughed at whoever tried this emotional shit on you. But it’s time. You’re not getting any better nor can you repress everything forever. It’s time to face some of these troubles head on. Luckily you won’t have to do it on your own. It will take time and effort and it’s going to hurt like hell but it has to be done. You have to move on and learn how to live. You owe it to yourself, if not the people you’ve left behind. 

“Now this doesn’t mean we’re going to be best friends from now on. You’re still an asshole and so am I so don’t think I’ll let you off easy for your comments and the trouble you cause.” The corner of Caleb’s lips turns up slightly as he speaks and you mimic his expression.

“I don’t think anyone else could handle it, so I’m sorry to disappoint but you’re definitely stuck with me, Widogast.” You muster a smile, exhausted. It’s mutually understood the conversation as per your agreement won’t happen right here, right now but instead when you’re both ready. For now, at least you won’t pretend to hate each other anymore and start over. 

“Hey, Caleb?” You ask.

“Yes?” He answers but before he knows it your arms wrap around him and pull him into your embrace. Caleb’s form goes rigid shocked by not only the gesture but by the physical touch itself. After a good few moments he finds himself ease just a little, enough to return the embrace lightly.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

[spenciegoob]

Who Needs Luck?

A/N: hi! I solely wrote this because of my 3 recent visits to NY (no, I sadly did not meet mgg)... plus i’ve been going there my whole life.. this is becoming the longest authors note, but as i’m writing I just want to say the people who work at food trucks in nyc are the nicest people ever, ask them about their day (AND TIP OMG PLS)

Summary: Reader invites Spencer to go to New York City with her where he finally sees the beauty right in front of him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff!

Content Warnings: reader can’t drive very well (I apologize if this is a callout post), slight road rage, language

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

____

I never considered myself a lucky man. Life had proven time and time again that no matter how many four leaf clovers I set out to search for, how many pennies on the ground faced heads up I stumbled across, luck was never on my side. I’ve learned to live with it, accepted my fate as the world’s smartest punching bag long before I was even in college.

But then I met her, and as cheesy as it sounds, I didn’t need luck that morning.

The second I woke up, the universe seemed to have it out for me specifically. I swung my legs over my bed, and in my half asleep daze stepped on my glasses, successfully breaking them. Unable to see on my short trip to the bathroom, I stubbed my toe… twice. Once I finally finished my morning routine more methodically, I walked out of my apartment only to bump into a stranger, sending the coffee she was holding all the both of us.

I had tried to apologize so many times, cutting my words short when they didn’t feel right. I had gotten through a series of “I’m, uh, oh, I, you,” before her smile interrupted my thought process, leaving me awestruck instead.

“That’s okay, but you owe me a coffee now.” She giggled, actually giggled, even with the scorching liquid causing her shirt to stick to her body. “Maybe… together?”

I didn’t hesitate to agree, taking her up on the offer that weekend and never looking back. Even when a loud crash, followed by a quiet, harsh ‘shit’ woke me up in a startle, there was no regret. Maybe just a little concern for my girlfriend who now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, can be seen holding her knee on the floor of our bedroom.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered out, grabbing onto the dresser to stand straight again. Once she was on her feet, she came over to sit on the edge of our bed, immediately running her fingers through my hair. If I wasn’t so worried about her knee, I probably would’ve fell asleep again.

“Are you okay?” She giggled at my scratchy morning voice before nodding her head. It’s then I realized how the sun hasn’t even begun to rise, the room still pitchblack. “What are you doing up?”

“Getting ready to go to the city, sleepyhead,” she said as if it was the most obvious answer, but truthfully, it left me with more questions.

“At... 5 am?” I sat up, glancing at the alarm clock three times just to make sure I was reading it right. She may have always been a little strange, but usually at a reasonable hour.

At this, she stood up to continue getting ready for the very early morning. Now I notice why she fell, the piles of clothes leading to the closet had to have at least half of her outfits compiled together.

“Well, yeah. I want to get there before noon.” Even in my perplexed state, I rose from the bed and carefully tiptoed around haphazardly thrown clothes to reach her.

While wrapping my arms around her waist still hidden under my t-shirt, I questioned. “It’s right outside? You have 7 hours.”

She turned to look at me funny as if I wasn’t the one digging through clothes and waking up before dawn to walk literally 5 minutes to my desired location. My eyebrows must have subconsciously furrowed at one point, because she brought her hand up to stroke her thumb on my forehead. Immediately, I felt the tension melt, no longer caring to correct my confusion. She still did it anyway.

“Not DC, silly. New York!” I wish it were untrue, but my heart dropped at her words. She was leaving, going to a city I wasn’t familiar with beyond reading about, solving cases, and memorizing subway maps. Is this how she feels every time I board that jet?

“W-what? You’re just going to New York City?” I inwardly cringed at how desperate and sad I sounded, but I really didn’t want her to leave.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, turning back around to return digging in her closet.

“For how long?” Please change your mind. Please change your mind. Please change you-

Realizing that I was fully awake, she let out a boisterous laugh, allowing the way it bounced off our four little walls to return back to us. It was a sound most treasured. “I was hoping to get back around 9.”

“What?” I leaned back to look at her like she was absolutely preposterous. I mean, she was!

“Roadtrip!”

That’s how I found myself in the passenger seat of her car, no coffee in my hand because I wasn’t allowed until I have “a real cup of coffee.” Whatever the hell that means better happen soon, because as much as I loved watching the way she concentrates on the road in front of her, my eyes were starting to droop.

“It’s going to be another 4 hours. You can sleep, my love.” How she knew me so well, I will never be able to figure out, but I was out before we even made it across state borders.

That however, didn’t last very long. My girlfriend may be short and sweet, but behind the wheel? That’s a different story. The horn to her car is a very familiar sound when I’m jolted awake by a sudden stop.

“Really, asshole? Go!” She yelled, slamming her hand against the top of the steering wheel before looking over at me. “Hey, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I forgot how awful drivers are here.”

“Where is here exactly?” I questioned, sitting up from my slouched position to find cars practically on top of each other on a road not wide enough for two lanes.

“New Jersey. We’re 10 minutes away.” Wow, I didn’t realize I slept for that long, and I have to admit I’m a little surprised I wasn’t woken up sooner.

“How are we 10 minutes away? It’s at least another 30 to get to the tunnel.” Looking at our surroundings didn’t help me determine our exact location. To the left of us, there were dozens of graffiti murals on the side of what I assumed was another elevated highway. To the right, sidestreets with local businesses ranging from auto repair shops to fast food joints to gyms.

“Nuh uh, stop analyzing mister. You’ll know when we get there.” She waved a finger in my directions, putting a pin in my scrutinization. I pouted right back, successfully playing along to the theme of her scolding me like a 5 year old.

“I don’t like surprises you know.” It was the truth, but her contagious laughter that filled the car made me slightly less disinclined to stop asking questions.

“Oh I know, but trust me, you’ll like this one.” She went to go reach over to grab my hand from where it was resting in my lap, but stopped short and retracted in favor of slamming the horn. “Oh, come on!”

***

“So you drove to a train station... in New Jersey?” I asked while she was… attempting to park the car.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been taking this route since I was a little girl.” Once she finally figured out how to evenly space a two door convertible in a very spacious parking spot, she unbuckled her seatbelt, and was quick to grab her bag from the backseat. “Well, come on mister, we’re going to miss the train.”

To be quite honest, I have never been so lost in my life. I could probably pinpoint our exact location on a map if I wanted to, granted I was given any sort of information, but part of me didn’t want to. Scratch that, all of me didn’t want to, because my entire life has been planned out in front of me before, but right now, I get to be spontaneous with the most beautiful girl on the planet.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” she told me, lacing our fingers together and pulling me forward. “Don’t stop to look around, you will get pushed.”

We made it inside, and if I thought the DC transit system was bustling with people constantly, this place was so much worse. There were hallways left and right, all packed with people in a rush. It seems everybody had some place to be and zero time to get there.

“Upstairs.” We walked up two flights before reaching a platform, buying our tickets and making it just in time for a train to arrive. “I know they come every 8 minutes, but thank god we made this one,” she said as she sat down.

The cart we were in wasn’t too crowded, and once I finally found a map on the wall across from us, I saw that it was a direct ride to the World Trade Center.

“You said you took this train when you were little?”

“Yeah, I went to the city a lot as a kid. This was the easiest, and the cheapest way there.” A small smile played at her lips, obviously the product of some childhood memory. “I used to hop it.”

“Of course you did,” I laughed back with her, thinking about how an innocent looking child would be the first person to get away with sneaking onto the train.

***

“I said it before, I will say it again. Do not let go of my hand.” This time it was more stern, and if I were being honest, I would say that it got me the slightest bit nervous. She must have noticed, she always does, because she continued. “Don’t worry, it just gets congested and I don’t want to lose you.”

She was right about that, it indeed was very congested, but that was okay because she was holding my hand, and I would follow her just about anywhere if it meant she kept looking over her shoulder and smiling when she saw me. Once we made it across the way, and in front of heavy looking glass doors, she turned to me and started walking backwards.

“You okay? This is definitely not off to a great start.” She was wrong, it was off to a perfect start.

“Yeah, I’m okay, but you might want to watch where you’re going,” I said before her back hit the door.

“Please I can get here with my eyes closed.” And then we were outside, and all 5 of my senses were hit immediately. The sun was shining down on us, and before I could complain about not bringing my sunglasses, she handed them to me. My heart fluttered at the innocent act, taking the sunglasses with such gratitude even though she had already moved on to retrieve hers. “Do you smell that?” She asked.

“There are a lot of answers to that question,” I told her, not knowing if she was talking about the smell of the construction happening at the corner, the permanent garbage smell or something entirely different.

“The hotdogs, silly. Come on, there’s nothing like ‘em.” This time, I laced our fingers together, not because I was scared of losing her, I was, but I just really wanted to be closer to her. She didn’t mind, in fact, she let out a content hum and leaned her head on my arm as we walked to the stand.

“Can I get four hotdogs with sauerkraut and two grape sodas,” she asked the vendor, who politely nodded before moving on to prepare our food.

“You’re going to have a heart attack by 35,” I said as I nudged her with my shoulder. She gave me a small push back before answering.

“Is that a doctor’s diagnosis?” She asked as she took our now ready food into her hands, after paying the man before I even had time to blink. I just grabbed the two cans of soda and followed her where she was making a beeline for a park bench. “Watch out for skaters.”

“Yes, it is indeed a doctor's diagnosis.” I unwrapped one of the hotdogs before taking a bite. I closed my eyes and let out a content hum. “It may be a little worth it.”

“Exactly.” We sat there quietly, enjoying the warm weather and sounds of wheels against pavement. At one point, she rested her head against my shoulder, and I am convinced wherever she went would be Heaven.

***

“Are your eyes closed?” We found ourselves with both our hands interlocked, my eyes closed while she walked backwards. I gave an ‘mhm’ before she continued. “We’re here, just keep them closed, and…” her words trailed off. “Okay open.”

I opened my eyes to her holding her arms out in the middle of the largest bookstore I’ve ever seen. “Surprise!” My eyes were bouncing everywhere. It wasn’t too crowded, the large stairwell across the store catching my eye first. There were bookshelves tens of feet high, all loaded with different genres and authors. To the right of us, tiny knick knacks and pins and socks. It was beautiful.

“Wow,” I whispered out, still stuck in my place admiring our surroundings. She was beaming up at me, a hint of pride at her successfulness to drag me 6 hours away to the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

“The Strand has always been my favorite place in the city. Come on, let’s go explore.” She grabbed my hands again, pulling me deeper into the store towards a shelf labeled adult fiction.

***

Six books, three pairs of socks and a postcard later, we were back on the busy streets of New York, aimlessly walking and admiring the tall buildings and different attractions. Well she was, I was admiring the way she was looking around like it was her first time here. Maybe I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings, but no amount of skyscrapers or fountains could possibly ever match up to her level of beauty. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” I asked randomly, startling her into jumping a tiny bit before giggling. She stopped us, turning to face me fully before reaching up to grab my face in her hands.

“Once or twice.” The kiss we shared on the New York streets were no different than the ones before, but this time, it felt like a silent promise. A passing between two lovers that no matter where we are, our love is the most beautiful thing there is. “I love you too, dork.”

___

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[xiyao-feels]

☕ possibly unpopular opinion, but I don't think lxc survives his seclusion. I think his world view is too badly shattered and he either wastes away slowly or outright kills himself.

I like—one-quarter agree with this, I think?

On the one hand, as I've said before, I do think CQL LXC kills himself. The man is just... really completely broken. And also just tried to die with JGY. I mean, I don't even think he goes into seclusion first, necessarily.

On the other hand, while MDZS LXC is also very much broken, I don't think he does die; even aside from anything else, JGY is still sealed in the coffin, and dying would be leaving him behind in a way it wouldn't in CQL—so in MDZS I don't think he does.

The part where I totally disagree with you is—I don't think it's about his worldview. It's about JGY being dead. I—think people very much want it to be about something other than that (including his grief for JGY /and NMJ/, which, still no) , and I am as ever prepared to look at a textual argument in favour if someone wants to assemble one, but honestly I think the text is pretty clear here. Throughout the temple, he's reacting and processing pretty normally—to borrow from my own previous work, here's an overview of some of his reactions to things and people other than JGY:

Obviously we see [LXC] react when he’s telling LWJ about WWX’s feelings, but even beyond that, even when he’s occupying a more background role in the narrative, we’re given his reaction quite a few times. He sighs when LWJ seals his spiritual powers (ch 100); he tends to NHS, covering with his outer robe (ch 102), comforting him when he’s disturbed at the sight of the coffin (ch 103), protecting him from SMS (after NHS frames him for stabbing him, ch. 107) and from NMJ (ch 107), and comforting him and giving him pain medicine about the wound in his leg (ch 108); along with LWJ, he’s distressed by the sound of JC’s sword-scraping technique against JGY’s music (ch 101); he tries to warn JC a couple of times when JC is fighting JGY (ch 101), cautions JL (ch 101) and later JC (ch 102) about worsening JC’s injuries, and along with JL, WWX, and LWJ freezes when JC slaps JL to the ground (ch 102); he asks Minshan why he’s being rude to LWJ, and a little later, with SMS and JL, pauses in astonishment when LWJ laughs (ch 100); he averts his gaze from and seems perhaps embarassed by the ghosts that WWX summons (ch 104); he calls out to WWX to remind him that his current body is closely related to JGY, and will therefore attract NMJ’s fierce corpse (ch 107). He actually has a couple of entertaining reactions to Wangxian being Wangxian: he coughs and tells WWX it is maybe not the best time and place for this when WWX is about to repeat “I really wanted to sleep with you,” and then later he and Jin Ling inexplicably! move their sitting cushions far away from Wangxian’s and gaze into the distance (ch 100).

And of course he reacts to JGY again and again, and—again!—is engaging and processing. Again pulling from my previous post—

And more than anything else—in what I think is a very instructive contrast—he reacts to JGY, in a way that reflects an ongoing continual emotional investment. He is, quite notably, consistently worried about JGY and unable to stand the sight of him in pain, even when he thinks he shouldn’t be. When the coffin trap goes off, and they overhear Jin cultivators wailing and a pungent smoke emerges, there’s worry in LXC’s eyes; after JGY and Minshan make it out, and JGY takes some medicine against the poison, LXC hesitates for a moment and then asks what happened (ch 103). After LWJ cuts JGY’s hand off—which means /after/ he’s taken JL hostage, note—LXC “seemed as though he wanted to help him for an instant,” though “in the end he dared not” (ch 106). When Minshan asks him for medicine for JGY, seeing how terrible JGY looks, he hesitates slightly before they’re interrupted by NMJ’s success fighting the Jin cultivators (ch 107). After they’ve defeated NMJ, he treats JGY’s wrist; moreover, “Seeing that Jin GuangYao almost passed out from the pain, Lan XiChen, who in the beginning wanted to use this to punish him, still didn’t have the heart to bear it,” and goes for the pain-relief medicine from NHS. And this is all not even accounting for his reactions to JGY either during his questioning of JGY or post-stabbing!

and

For the first, he calls out Sect Leader Jin when JGY starts in on JC after JC calls him the son of a prostitute (ch 104), although notably he does not do the same in their earlier confrontation when JGY is distracting JC in order to defeat him, only warning JC (ch 101); when JGY confesses to having burned down the brothel, he’s distressed when JGY says that it wasn’t entirely to remove the traces (ch 105); he becomes /less/ angry about the second siege and about QS when it turns out that he was operating under constraint in those conditions (ch 106); and of course, the thing he’s angriest about is JGY killing his father, “and even in such a way” (ch 106). In ch 103, looking down at the coffin he is shocked that JGY buried something that caused such horror to its surroundings, but without further information about JGY’s reasons this does not metamorphose into anger.

And there's even more! I don't want to quote all of that section because it's really long, but you get the point: before JGY dies, he's distressed, sure, but he's still processing.

And then after JGY dies, it's—

Lan XiChen staggered a few steps back from the push. He hadn’t realized what happened yet.

Lan XiChen stared at the coffin enveloped in seven guqin strings. He was still lost in thought. Nie HuaiSang extended a hand and waved it before his eyes, terrified, “… B-Brother XiChen, are you alright?”

Lan XiChen, “HuaiSang, just now, was he really trying to catch me off guard with an attack?”

Nie HuaiSang, “I think I saw it…”

Hearing his hesitation, Lan XiChen pressed, “Think it over some more.”

Nie HuaiSang, “If you ask me like that, I can’t be sure either… It really did seem like…”

Lan XiChen, “Cut out the ‘seem like’! Did it happen or not?!”

Nie HuaiSang answered with difficulty, “… I don’t know, I really don’t know!”

This was the only thing Nie HuaiSang knew to say when he was desperate. Lan XiChen buried his forehead in his palm. He seemed as if his head was about to split, unwilling to speak again.

Lan XiChen was startled, “Induce? Induce what?”

Lan WangJi’s voice was low, “Jin GuangYao’s killing intent.”

If it were the usual ZeWu-Jun, he couldn’t have failed to fathom this. But right now, it was likely he had no more space in his mind to think.

(ch 109)

Veins suddenly lined the back of the hand in which Lan XiChen placed on his forehead. His voice sounded muffled, “… Just what does he want to do? I once thought I knew him well, and then I realized I did not. Before tonight, I thought I knew him well once more, but now I do not.” Nobody could give him an answer. Lan XiChen repeated in frustration, “Just what does he want to do?”

Of the people here, some were cleaning up the scene, some were solidifying the seal on the coffin, some were thinking about how to move it safely, and some were feeling angry. Lan QiRen raged, “XiChen, what in the world is wrong with you?!”

As his hand pressed the corner of his forehead, Lan XiChen’s face was full of an unspeakable grief. He seemed tired, “… Uncle, I am begging you. Ask no further. Really. Right now, I really wish to say nothing.”

Lan QiRen had never seen Lan XiChen, a child he single-handedly brought up, look so agitated and discomposed. He looked at him, then looked at Lan WangJi, surrounded by disciples alongside Wei WuXian, and felt more irritated the more he looked. He felt that of these two of his proudest disciples who had been absolutely perfect, neither listened to him anymore and both gave him much worry.

Lan QiRen watched Lan XiChen who followed behind him sluggishly, still absent-minded, and sighed forcefully before he left with a flip of his sleeves.

(ch 110)

And then in the banquet extras, three months later:

Wei WuXian still clung to Lan WangJi’s chest, face buried at his neck as he felt the sandalwood aroma on Lan WangJi’s body grow even richer. He felt lazy all over, eyes closed, “Is your brother alright?”

Lan WangJi embraced his naked back, stroking again and again. After a while of a silence, he answered, “Not really.”

Both of the two were sticky with sweat. Wei WuXian felt an itch crawl from his skin all the way to the bottom of his heart as Lan WangJi stroked him. He twisted somewhat uncomfortably, swallowing Lan WangJi even deeper.

Lan WangJi lowered his voice, “In the years when I was in secluded meditation, Brother had always been the one to comfort me.”

Yet now the situation was the exact opposite.

Likely because Lan QiRen got a heart attack whenever he saw Wei WuXian, he simply decided not to look at him, staring straight forward. Lan XiChen was pleasant as always, holding the hint of a smile at his lips that always seemed like spring wind. Yet, perhaps because of the secluded meditation, Wei WuXian felt that ZeWu-Jun looked a bit frail.

(ch 115)

After the tasteless meal, the servants took away the plates and tables. As usual, Lan XiChen started to summarize the recent plans for the sect. But after listening for just a few sentences, Wei WuXian began to feel that he was a bit absent-minded. He even remembered two night-hunting locations wrong and didn’t realize after he spoke, causing Lan QiRen to throw a couple of sideway looks at him and puff his goatee into the air. A while later, he finally couldn’t help but interrupt him. Fortunately, the sect banquet finally ended, although somewhat hastily.

(ch 116)

So to recap—before JGY dies, he's distressed but he's still processing and reacting to things basically normally, he's got his head in the game. And then after JGY dies, he is very much /not/ processing things, he's not reacting normally, the things he's preoccupied with are entirely about JGY, LQR is like 'I've never seen him this way before.' And when we see him three months later, failing at very basic tasks he's long performed perfectly, it's the same kind of symptom—just as it was in ch 109, he seems to have no more space in his mind to think.

There's also the explicitly-drawn parallels between him and LWJ—by LQR, and by LWJ himself, paralleling LXC's current state with his own time in seclusion. And what would LWJ have needed comforting about while he was in seclusion? It's not the shattering of his worldview—it's Wei Ying.

I'm not going to go and rewatch and cap CQL temple, but the same basic pattern shows. Before JGY's death, he's functional and processing: afterwards, he's broken. I do think CQL LXC is more emotionally agitated before JGY's death than MDZS LXC is, but he's also even less functional afterwards so it evens out. If you go to 18:40ish in ep 50 (on YT, might be a different timestamp in Netflix) you can watch LXC stand frozen and stare into space and totally fail to react to anything including the conversation right next to him about his brother and WWX having run off.

I mean, I think it's also about the manner of JGY's death, if JGY had, idk, died heroically saving JL's life or something a year earlier he'd still have broken but probably not as badly? But it really is about JGY.

Tldr: I do think he kills himself in CQL; I don't think he does, even passively, in MDZS; but either way, his state at the end of canon isn't about his shattered worldview, it's about JGY being dead.

[megan-is-mia]

Omggg I love your blog!! I'm new here and I'm already so hooked! 😊💖

Could I please request #14 of the monster yandere prompt with Malleus?? With spiciness of NSFW if possible please

XOXO

 (I hope you stay hooked cause you’ll be in for a crazy ride, and hell yeah you can get your NSFW. You are lucky cause this fic is loooong) 14. “You know you can’t run from me forever, one day I’ll catch you” (Yandere! Malleus Draconia x Fem! S/o) (WARNING NSFW AND NON-CON AHEAD) ((MILD CHILD GROOMING)) “Malleus do wipe that bitter expression off your face” Lilia said in a scolding tone as he poked the young king whose mouth was fixed in a deep grimace. “I don’t want to, if I must go to this christening then I will but I refuse to pretend that I’m happy about it” Malleus replied folding his arms and looking out the window of the carriage. “You were so excited about going before, why the sudden change?” Lilia said giving the draconic-fae’s face another sharp poke. 

“That was before you told me it was in the Enchanted Dominion” Malleus said, the corner of his mouth twitching with the force of his frown. “You know I cannot stand that bratty little prince Dimitri, and now there’s going to be two of them” he added with a shake of his head. The Enchanted Dominion was the kingdom closest to the Valley of Thorns, and because of that considerable effect was put in by both countries to keep their diplomatic relations at least peaceful if not outright friendly. “Actually it seems that King Klaude and Queen Eden were blessed with a little princess this time. I believe they’ve named her (Y/n), for the Queen’s late mother” Lilia said, his lips quirked up into a half-grin as he noticed that Malleus’s posture had relaxed with this additional information. They rode the rest of the way to their destination without any further chatter. The two fae were escorted into the banquet hall where a great celebration was already in process as various dignitaries approached to pay their respects to the baby.

Malleus let out a sigh as he walked up to the cradle where the infant princess lay half-asleep. As he stared down at the baby, he found himself begrudgingly thinking that she was rather cute. Not as cute as Silver had been as a babe, but definitely deserving of the cooing and coddling that had been given to her by all the visitors. Absentmindedly he reached down to stroke the child’s cheek and her little eyes popped open to look up at him. (Y/n) gurgled and tried to grab the fae’s finger in her tiny fist. It was like a switch was flipped inside the draconic-fae at this action by the newborn and he scooped the child up despite the cries of protest from the seated king and queen. (Y/n) continued to gurgle and stared up at Malleus sending him into a trance of sorts as his heart raced with infatuation for the sweet infant. It took Lilia tapping his shoulder for the young fae to finally return to reality and set the babe back in her cradle even as she tried to cling to Malleus’s fingers and began to cry as he walked away. Even as he put distance between himself and the child, the draconic-fae’s mind was filled with thoughts of the infant princess. He remembered nothing of the festivities that followed after everyone had paid their respects to the baby and he thought of nothing but her until the next day. Well, that wasn’t entirely true… even though he forced himself to focus on his responsibilities Malleus still found his mind wandering to the condition of Princess (Y/n) to the point that even Lilia noticed he was out of sorts. It wasn’t until the young king finally sent a messenger, in secret, to the Enchanted Dominion to inquire about the state of the baby princess that he was finally able to get some peace and complete his work for the day. At first, receiving an update once a day about the state of little (Y/n) was enough to satisfy Malleus’s curiosity. However, as the months passed the daily message he received just wasn’t enough anymore. He wanted to see the young princess, see how much she’d already grown in the last four months. Malleus had to fight the urge to simply teleport to King Klaude and Queen Eden’s castle to satisfy his need to see the child. He forced himself to be patient and wrote a formal letter requesting permission to visit the castle under the guise of a diplomatic visit. His request was eventually approved and the day after he was able to finally see little (Y/n) again. She was crawling now and was just as cute as he remembered her being if not more so. It was clear, even now, that the baby princess would be a great beauty when she grew up. Regretfully the dragon-fae wasn’t able to spend as much time as he would have liked with the little princess before he was dragged off on a tour of the castle by the king and queen. However, this brief second encounter with the adorable child confirmed one thing in his mind: Malleus could not wait for another four months to pass by before the next time he saw young (Y/n). He resolved to begin visiting the child in secret so he could watch over her like a benevolent ghost or a faithful shadow. Five years passed by, and Malleus dutifully watched over (Y/n) as she grew from a crawling baby to a waddling toddler and into an energetic little girl. He came to realize that his infatuation with her was not only growing but slowly turning into something not as innocent as it had been originally. The draconic fae knew it’d be only a matter of a few more years before the princess would be old enough to start entertaining potential suitors, and that was assuming that she didn't end up betrothed before that! The very thought of such a thing happening irked him beyond belief. In Malleus’s opinion, no mortal man would ever be worthy of his darling (Y/n). However, there wasn’t much he could do to stop such an event from happening. Unless… he asked for the princess’s hand before anyone else had the chance and secured his claim on his future queen now. That thought should have disgusted him, wanting to take a child as his bride to be. Yet instead it filled him with immense satisfaction when he really took the time to think about it. Really he was the best choice for the princess. Their kingdoms were right next to each other so their union would allow their countries to merge and prosper under their joint rule. Malleus knew that some of the lower-fae might object to having a human queen at first but he was sure they’d come to adore (Y/n) with time. Even though she was still very young, the dragon-fae could tell she would only grow in grace, intelligence, beauty, and maturity as the years went by. He’d already seen it during the times he’d already spent by her side.

When the time came for them to finally wed there would be no way anyone could object to their marriage. Yet before any of that could happen, he had to ask for King Klaude and Queen Eden’s permission to become Princess (Y/n)’s betrothed. When Malleus went to ask for that honor he did not go empty-handed. Oh no, he wanted to make it quite plain to his beloved’s parents that he’d make for a suitable husband with extravagant courting gifts as he made his request. However, the king and queen did not respond the way he’d hoped they would. Instead of being impressed by the gifts and his heartfelt request they were disgusted by his intentions towards their second-child. Malleus’s eyes narrowed as these pathetic mortals tried to lecture him about how reprehensible they found his offer to be. They threatened death upon him as well as war on his people if they ever caught wind of him getting anywhere close to the young princess again. Malleus found himself consumed by rage and teleported back to the Valley of Thorns unaware that his wrath had taken corporeal form as green flames that sprouted where he’d been standing last before spreading like an actual wildfire through the castle ravaging objects and killing people in its wake. When news of the terrible disaster came to the young king the next day he found himself desperately hoping that (Y/n) had somehow survived the terrible blaze.

Sadly this was not to be. While King Klaude, Queen Eden, and Prince Dimitri had managed to get out alive, the little princess had been consumed in the inferno before it had been successfully extinguished and the Enchanted Dominion held a funeral for their dearly departed princess a week later. Even Malleus attended the event albeit in disguise. He was far from ready to face the reality that (Y/n) was truly dead nor was he ready to handle the accusations from the king and queen for his crime. 

Malleus spent the next decade and a quarter in a deep depression. What was the point of living when you had nothing to live for? He ate little, slept little, and tried to keep his mind busy with work improving the Valley of Thorns. Alas, there were still times when his mind was filled with thoughts of (Y/n) especially when the anniversaries of her death and christening passed by each year. This year would have marked the princess’s eighteenth birthday, the year she’d finally have been old enough to wed. Overcome with sorrow the young king disappeared in the forest that covered the border between the Enchanted Dominion and the Valley of Thorns to wander aimlessly until his mind would finally allow him some peace. When suddenly a beautiful voice caught Malleus’s ear and made him stand straight at attention. The voice was clear as the call of a songbird and soft like the jingle of sleigh bells. The draconic-fae found himself drawn to the voice, determined to find out what its source was. Malleus followed the voice all the way to a glen with a cottage situated at the center but it wasn’t the cottage that truly interested the dragon-fae at this moment. No, his interest was for the figure who had been singing all this time. For a moment, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him; there was no way the scene unfolding before him was really happening. There in the glen, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world… was Princess (Y/n). Not as he remembered her, but how he’d imagined she’d one day be. Beautiful and graceful as can be, (Y/n) sang for all the world to hear as she walked away from the cottage and toward where Malleus was standing in the shadows of the trees. As she drew closer the young fae was able to see the burned flesh of her left cheek and right arm clear as day. Malleus felt rage begin to bubble in his stomach, he’d been lied to all this time. The princess hadn’t died in the fire he’d created! They’d hidden her away in the forest probably in an effort to make him stop pursuing her. “So this is where they’ve been keeping you all these years… clever” Malleus said, stepping out from where he’d been standing in concealment and making the young woman shriek with surprise. “Hello (Y/n), you’re looking quite lively for someone who supposedly died in a fire thirteen years ago” he added with a smirk as the girl stared at him with bug-eyed disbelief. “Come on, I know you can speak. I just heard you singing quite beautifully before you knew I was here” he finished before going silent to await her response. “King Draconia! How’d you find me?!” (Y/n) said with undisguised horror. She’d spent most of her childhood and teenage years in fear that the dragon fae would locate her. The great fire he’d caused was one of her only vivid memories of her youth and had been the basis of many nightmares when she’d first been brought out into the forest. Her parents had been planning to marry her to a foreign prince this year and she would never have to worry about being in the crosshairs of a fae again. “Fate my dear child of man, we are meant to be together and so fate made it so” Malleus said coolly as he advanced on (Y/n) and grabbed her wrist as the girl’s eyes darted from side to side as she tried to formulate an escape plan. “ (Y/n), I would advise against trying to flee from me for you’d only be postponing the inevitable. You know you can’t run from me forever. One day I’ll catch you, and the longer it takes for that day to come the more pain you’ll cause both yourself and your family” he warned softly. “What do you want from me?” (Y/n) asked quietly even though she already knew the answer to that question. “The same thing I’ve always wanted from you. I want you to be my wife. I need a queen to rule by my side and I want that queen to be you” Malleus said calmly as he pulled the young woman against his chest and wrapped his other arm around her waist to keep her there. “And what if I don't want to be your wife or your queen?” (Y/n) said hesitantly and received a patronizing laugh from the dragon-fae in answer to her question. “I’ll raze the Enchanted Dominion to the ground and still take you as my bride. I’m giving you a choice to either accept your destiny with dignity or to cause massive suffering for your kingdom through a refusal of your destiny” Malleus said gently but firmly making it clear that there was no choice, not really. “I’ll marry you… and I promise not to fight” (Y/n) said quietly, letting her head flop forward to rest against the fae king’s chest. She was dimly aware of him pressing his lips against her forehead before everything went dark. Malleus cast a minor sleeping spell upon (Y/n) with a kiss to her forehead. He knew that she was probably trying to process everything that had just happened and wanted to ease the process by letting her rest for the time being. He teleported the two of them back to his castle and into his chambers where he gently tucked the young woman under the covers with another kiss to her forehead before leaving the room. As much as Malleus wanted to stay by (Y/n)’s side and bask in her beauty, his kingly duties called.

First thing, first he needed to tell Lilia the joyous news and start the preparations for the wedding. He found the older fae hanging around one of the attics in the castle and gleefully told him of his discovery in the woods. Lilia was overjoyed to see his ward smiling again after so many years of sorrow and he eagerly agreed to oversee the arrangements for Malleus and (Y/n)’s wedding. He shooed the young fae away telling him to not worry about it and that he’d handle the specifics of the matter. Next thing to do was sending a wedding invitation to King Klaude and Queen Eden. He kept it simple and didn’t reveal the identity of his bride until the final sentence of the invitation. Malleus handed the letter off to a messenger and sent them off to the Enchanted Dominion to deliver it to his future in-laws. The draconic-fae spent the rest of the day buzzing through his paperwork with a vigor he hadn’t shown in years. By the time the sun had set, Malleus was finished with his work and retired eagerly to his chambers where (Y/n) awaited him.

As he locked the door behind him, the dragon-fae smiled to himself. The princess was still deeply asleep from his spell and there was a little smile on her face. Malleus sat on the bed and ran his fingers through (Y/n)’s hair and found himself memorized by her beauty. The burn-marks on her face and arm did not detract from her good locks, if anything they made her even more beautiful in his eyes. He still wished that things had turned out differently and that he had been granted her hand when he’d asked all those years ago. However, Malleus couldn't say he was totally unhappy with how things had turned out. Sure, (Y/n) was afraid of him for now, but with time she’d come to see how much he loved her and fall just as madly in love with him as he was madly in love with her. The young king was certain of it, he would make the princess a happy bride, happy wife, and happy queen in time. The young fae was pulled from his thoughts by the young woman moving in her sleep and letting out a soft whimper It was clear that (Y/n)’s sweet dreams had now turned into a nightmare and Malleus dispelled the enchantment he’d placed upon the young woman allowing her to wake up from her terrible dream. The young woman blinked slowly and looked around her with an expression of confusion on her features. The draconic-fae did not speak, allowing his darling human to take in the features of the room as he continued to stroke her hair soothingly as she did so. “How do you feel child of man? I’m sorry for the abrupt waking but you were having a nightmare” Malleus asked and felt the princess suddenly stiffen as if she only just remembered who she was in bed with. The young fae let out a sigh as he pulled down the covers and pulled (Y/n) out and up into his lap. “Relax my dear (Y/n), everything is alright, your bad dreams cannot hurt you anymore” he said softly pressing his nose against the nape of the young woman’s neck.

“King Draconia… Did you… did we? While I was…” (Y/n) trailed off her face turning bright red with embarrassment as she tried to articulate her question. Malleus found it adorable how easily flushed the matter made her. He knew humans took such interpersonal relationships more seriously than the fae did and he couldn't resist teasing his sweet human a little over it. “Did I deflower you while you were asleep?” he asked bluntly, making the girl blush even more as she nodded her head.

“What do you think? Do you think I took your innocence already?” the fae crooned, enjoying the way the young woman squirmed at his words and her skin began to heat up from how flustered she was. “Be at ease, I was only teasing you a bit. Your virtue is still very much intact my dear child of man” Malleus said with a chuckle. “And that is how it will remain until our wedding night my love so worry not. I promise to not lay a finger on you until then” he finished pressing a kiss to (Y/n)’s chin. “King Draconia—” a finger was placed over (Y/n)’s lips. “— (Y/n), I’d prefer it if you called me by my first name. We’re going to be married after all so you might as well start getting used to it” Malleus interrupted gently. “Malleus” the young woman said, not quite sure she liked the way the word sounded in her mouth. “Malleus... how long until we are to be wed?” she said even though she didn’t really want an answer to her inquiry. Maybe if the date was far enough in the future, she’d have a chance to escape and warn her family. “We will be wed by the end of the week my dear” Malleus replied, his words chilling (Y/n) to the core. “E-eh-end of the week?! That’s way too soon! We hardly know each other, we can't get married yet! I already agreed to marry you, can’t we take it slowly?” the princess said frantically with obvious dismay in her voice. “I have already been forced to wait thirteen years for you to reach maturity my dear child of man. So on the contrary, I think the end of the week is not soon enough” the fae replied with a small frown. “But, but… I’m not ready to be queen” (Y/n) said desperately. “I can’t be queen! Look at me!” the princess added frantically gesturing at her burnt face and then looking back at Malleus with a pleading look. “I am looking at you (Y/n), and what I see is the soon-to-be Queen of Thorns” the fae said resting his chin on the girl’s shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about, I will be by your side every step of the way through this experience you have my word” he finished as he pressed kisses to her collarbone. (Y/n)’s mouth opened again, but no words came out. What else could she say? The fae’s mind had been made up and there was nothing she could say to change it. Sure she could try running away, but doing such a reckless thing was sure to backfire on her. Even if she got away, Malleus would undoubtedly go after her family and take out his rage on them. The princess felt tears welling up in her eyes and soon her cheeks were damp as the tears began streaming down like little rivers on her face. Malleus forced her to turn around in his lap so he could wipe the tears away and spoke what he must have thought were words of comfort but only brought despair to (Y/n) who sobbed until she was out of energy and passed out in the fae’s lap. The next few days were a blur to the princess, between the lectures on fae etiquette in the morning and being forced to accompany Malleus when he held court each afternoon there was hardly a moment of peace for the young woman. 

The only relatively quiet moments (Y/n) got were the three hours in the evening during the dress-fittings for her wedding gown. The seamstress had the tact not to ask about the burns that covered the princess’s left cheek, upper back, right arm, lower abdomen, and left leg. The young woman knew the fae wanted to ask questions but appreciated that she did not voice them. Instead putting her energy into making sure the dress would fit (Y/n)’s conservative tastes and cover her marred skin. The day of the wedding finally arrived with the finishing touches being put on the dress even as (Y/n)’s face was caked in make-up and her hair was pulled back into an elegant updo. Since her father King Klaude would probably not be in attendance, the ancient fae Lilia Vanrouge had volunteered to be the one to walk the young woman down the aisle and was permitted to help with getting her into the freshly completed gown. Once everything was laced up the girl was permitted to see herself in a mirror. “Well I’ll be, you look exquisite” Lilia commented as he watched the girl stare at her reflection with wide eyes. (Y/n) found herself overwhelmed with sorrow. The woman in the glass looked like a regal queen, not the terrified teenager she knew she was under the makeup and dress she wore. For a moment despite how ridiculous it was, she considered trying to run for it now. However, Lilia’s hand clamping down on her arm and gently guiding out of the room put an end to that notion. (Y/n) let herself be led down the aisle to where Malleus stood with an eager grin at the altar. Distantly she was aware of the sounds of screaming. The princess turned her head and locked eyes with her mother Queen Eden. She wanted to run to her mother and hide her face in the familiar warmth and aroma of cinnamon that clung to the queen’s clothes. However, she couldn’t move a muscle, whether it was because she was frozen with fear or it was because Malleus had bewitched her… she’d never know. When the time came to recite her vows there was no passion behind the young woman’s words, which were in vast contrast to the dragon-fae’s impassioned oaths that had been spoken only moments before hers. They exchanged rings and kissed before (Y/n) was swept off her feet by Malleus and carried up to his chambers before being dropped on his bed. She watched as the fae fumbled to undo the tie on his dress shirt before giving up and just ripping it off before sitting on the bed and kissing her again. This kiss was worlds different from the one they’d just shared at the altar and all the ones he’d given her over the past six days. This kiss was hungry, and it would not be easily satisfied. (Y/n) tried to pull away from the liplock but Malleus’s arm wrapped around her waist keeping her close as he forced his tongue into her mouth and ran it over the roof of her mouth, inside of her cheeks before darting under her tongue in what he probably thought was a playful move. (Y/n)’s vision was starting to go dark from lack of air when Malleus finally pulled back before flipping her over to start unlacing her dress before running out of patience and just tearing the back open so he could feel her skin under his hands. He had planned on taking his time originally, it was going to be his darling’s first time with a man and he did not want to hurt her unnecessarily. However, she looked so intoxicating it was hard to hold himself back and not just rip everything off so he could bend her over and fuck her. He had to force himself to take a few deep calming breaths as (Y/n) quivered beneath him. With his head a bit clearer now, Malleus slowly pulled the top half of the dress down to the young woman’s hips as he peppered kisses down her spine. He sat back on his heels and began unbuttoning his shirt and jacket so he could shrug them off onto the floor beside the bed. The dragon-fae gently rolled (Y/n) onto her back once more before bringing her hands up to his lips so he could kiss them. “I love you” he said in a low purr as he continued to press kisses to the girl’s fingers and gazed down at her with his cheeks now a faint shade of pink. “I love you so much” Malleus added, adjusting his grip so he could pull (Y/n) up into a seated position and kiss her again. He let go of her hands but kept kissing her as he wrapped his arms around her waist and began laying back so she’d fall on top of him. One of the fae’s hands crept down to cup at the curve of the young woman’s ass before lightly squeezing it.

(Y/n) threw her head back and let out a soft squeak at the sudden grope to her rear before hiding her face against Malleus’s neck. The young king smirked to himself as he squeezed again this time with a bit more force, and received a second adorable sound from the girl as her cheeks turned red with embarrassment. Not wanting to waste any more time undressing her, Malleus snapped his fingers making (Y/n)’s dress vanish into thin air and leaving her with nothing but her undergarments to preserve her modesty. The young woman tried to squeeze herself flat against the fae, shivering from how drafty the room was as well as the fear she felt coursing through her veins. Malleus allowed her to lay like that for a few moments before he coaxed her head up for more kisses. He slipped a hand under the cup of her bra so he could grope her chest experimentally. (Y/n) wasn’t the most well-endowed but the bounty she did have was more than enough in his eyes. He playfully pinched her nipple enjoying the way she twitched in response to his touch. The dragon-fae’s other hand retook its place on the young woman’s rump, squeezing roughly before slipping in between her thighs to press his nails against the fabric of her panties and tease her clit underneath. (Y/n)’s body twitched again, this time more violently and the fabric of her panties became damp from the stimulation she was receiving. Malleus pulled back from the kiss to chuckle at this cute response and continued his teasing until the young woman was shaking like a leaf with her eyes rolled back from his ministrations. (Y/n) wasn’t completely oblivious to the carnal pleasures of the body. She’d experimented quite a bit when she was first going through puberty. Yet all of that had been on her own, it was something else entirely to have her body manhandled by someone who knew what they were doing and wasn’t afraid to get a bit rough with her. Thankfully Malleus’s fingers went still and fell from between her legs to rest on the bed as his face contorted into an expression of thoughtfulness before he brought that hand up to her chest With a hand already under her shirt, it was easy for the young fae to pull the princess’s brassiere up and off her body before tossing it aside onto his shirt and jacket on the floor. Malleus pressed his face between (Y/n)’s breasts inhaling her unique aroma of raspberry and blackberry. His tongue flicked out from his mouth as he licked up the valley betwixt her boobs lapping at her delightfully, soft skin before reluctantly pulling back so he could reposition the girl into facing away from him with her legs straddling his chest. The young woman was perplexed momentarily by this sudden shift in position before her eyes focused in on the bulge in the fae-king’s pants and felt his hand on her back forcing her to bend forward. (Y/n) braced an arm on the bed next to Malleus’s thigh and with the other, she shyly ran her fingers over his clothed erection. Her move was rewarded with a soft growl and she repeated it a few times before a squeeze to her leg told her that more effort was necessary. 

Timidly she undid the buttons to the draconic-fae’s pants and let out a yelp at his boner, no boners sprung free. (Y/n) stared bug-eyed at the twin dongs with a bewildered expression before jolting as her panties were ripped off and something wet touched her clit. Malleus’s free hand pat her butt to remind her of what she was supposed to be doing before it trailed down to the nape of her neck and gently pushed down on it so her face was now brushing against the dragon’s double cocks.  Taking the hint she stuck her tongue out to give one of dicks a cautionary lick. The other she ran her fingers over tentatively. Malleus let out a purr and thrust his tongue into her cunt in answer to her inexperienced touches. (Y/n) was starting to understand what was being asked of her and responded accordingly, shyly taking the head of one member into her mouth and the other into her fist before slowly taking more of the fae’s cock until it was all the way in and someway down her throat. She went still for a moment, letting her oral chamber get used to the feeling before she pulled back a little and repeated the process with her hand moving in time to her mouth. While she jerked and blew the dragon-fae, he, in turn, fingered and tongue-fucked. Malleus knew if he wasn’t careful and didn’t probably stretch (Y/n) out beforehand he’d only hurt her instead of pleasing her. His free hand trailed down from her neck to tease her chest again causing the girl to choke a little on his rod. Slowly (Y/n) managed to find a rhythm to her movements and was able to disassociate somewhat from what was happening to her. Of course, it wasn’t possible to completely dissociate with Malleus’s mouth and fingers in her pussy but she was going to take what she could get. Her brain was going a bit hazy now, the combination of being eaten out and having a cock down her throat making her vision go blurry before she felt something burst inside her and she came all over the young fae’s face. A moment later she felt his cocks twitching in her mouth and hand, this was the only warning she got before she found herself coated in cum both inside and out. She had no choice but to swallow the dragon’s load as he lazily licked up her fallen juices and gave her cunt a quick swipe with his tongue to make sure he got everything. (Y/n) pulled off Malleus’s cock and tried to wipe off the cum on her face and hand on the mattress with little success before she was abruptly forced onto her back again. The fae-king stared down at his wife’s flushed face and felt both his heart and cocks twitch at the adorable sight before him. Malleus positioned himself between (Y/n) legs and lightly pressed the heads of his cocks against her now well-prepped pussy. He smiled at her as he began to slowly sink into her inviting depths. The young woman let out a whine, even though she’d already stretched out by the fae’s fingers and tongue it still wasn’t enough to make this part completely painless. Thankfully Malleus took his time sheathing himself, running his hands over (Y/n)‘s skin and pressing kisses to help her relax and take him without injury. The princess’s legs were wrapped loosely around the young king’s hips and her hands had balled into fists that caused her nails to dig into her palms so they were bleeding a little. The fae went still when he noticed this and clicked his tongue scoldingly before he reached down to force her fingers to uncurl from clenched fists “If you need something to grip onto, may I offer these instead?” he crooned bringing her hands up to his horns and gently encouraging her to grab tight to them before resuming the task of slowly burying himself inside the girl’s cunt. (Y/n)’s hands tensed up on Malleus’s horns and she began babbling nonsensically for him to stop. The fae-king ignored these ramblings as his mouth latched onto one of the young woman’s boobs and began to suck lightly as he finally bottomed out inside her. Malleus did not move until (Y/n)’s breathing had stabilized again and her body had finally relaxed again. He pulled back a little, and thrust forward striking her sweet spot directly and making her body arched up into his. The fae repeated this motion again and again with varying speed and intensity. Sometimes it was slow and gentle, sometimes it was fast and rough, and sometimes it was somewhere in between. Regardless it didn't take long until the young woman was babbling for a very different reason. To the fae-king’s delight, his darling human’s hips pushed back against his needily which only egged him on into being wilder and wilder with her. His teeth dug into her neck, her chest, any flesh he could get his mouth on was soon covered in marks. It made for a fitting contrast the burn-marks of passionate rage and the bite-marks of raging passion to cover his beloved one. Even better when (Y/n)’s fingers fell from Malleus’s horns they found a new perch in his shoulders and he let out a lusty growl as she bit down on his shoulder. The two drove each other closer and closer to that coveted high of orgasm before finally going over the edge in a fit of moans and groans that shook the very walls. Neither party spoke for a long while, too busy trying to catch their breaths as the horny haze over them began to clear. Malleus finally gathered the strength to gently pull out, his cocks flopping limply against the mattress as their exit was followed by a gush of cum flowing out of (Y/n)’s ruined cunt. The fae gently scooped the escaping jizz back into his darling’s pussy making her whimper weakly at this attentional stimulation to her already oversensitive body. Malleus chuckled softly as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and grabbed a plug from the nightstand beside the bed. Carefully pressing it against (Y/n)’s gaping cunt until it slipped it and prevented any more cum from dripping out and ruining the sheets. He had a second reason for doing such a thing of course. He knew that the sooner they had a child the better. A babe of their two people was sure to put an end to any objections that the princess’s parents might attempt to raise against him for taking what was his. Malleus knew that the human king and queen wouldn’t dare try to start war if there was an unborn grandchild they might put at risk. Plus… he wanted to be a father, a real father. As he pulled (Y/n) under the covers with him, his mind was full of thoughts of their future together as the King and Queen of Thorns… THE END

[modern-inheritance]

I don’t really know where I’m going with this but do you have any Oromis/Morzan headcanons? Before or during the fall, or Oromis’ feelings towards Morzan afterwards?

I have a few! More than a few apparently, I'm just finishing this up and uh...yeah that got longer than I thought!

I’m going to do my best to leave Glaedr and Morzan’s dragon out of these because while they’re large parts of each other's lives and even maybe personalities considering how deeply bonded Riders and their dragons can be, I want to be sure I’m keeping the characters separate. Kinda like how you shouldn’t constantly group identical twins together as a single entity, ya know?

Alright let's start off with Morzan. Time for some backstory!

Modern Inheritance!Morzan

Morzan was born into a family of low level nobles. By the time Morzan was about six or seven though, the family had fallen out of favor and was struggling to keep up appearances, spending money they didn’t necessarily have on lavish items and acting increasingly narcissistic in a desperate attempt to hold onto the standing and power they once had.

Morzan probably started showing antisocial behavior around this time, mainly impulsive petty theft, inserting himself in dangerous situations, and manipulation through charm with adults and intimidation and violence with other children. Due to his family’s last shreds of political strength and their long time in the area, most of these incidents were swept under the rug or outright ignored by his family. This generally left a very angry, disgusted-with-others, burgeoning narcissistic young Morzan to his own devices.

When Morzan was chosen by his dragon, his parents were quietly glad that he wouldn’t be their responsibility anymore. They didn’t disclose any of his troubling behaviors and Morzan was quick to understand that he would need to tamp the more obvious ones down and manipulate others into hiding his transgressions.

Despite all this, Morzan and his dragon do deeply care for each other. Due to Morzan’s mind linking with the hatchling, there was a sort of evening out of his behaviors as some were ‘shared’ do the hatchling and some of the hatchling’s personality was ‘shared’ with Morzan. This is what helped Morzan fly under the radar for so much longer until his eventual betrayal.

On a lighter note, Morzan shot up like a weed when he hit puberty, once growing nearly five inches (~12.7 cm) over the span of a year. It took a year or so for his muscles to visibly bulk up, so he was this tall gangly teenager for a while. His clothes constantly needed altering.

Initially Morzan doesn’t really know what to think of Oromis and Glaedr. His family was always distracted from giving him the attention and nurturing he needed, and suddenly he has not only this baby dragon who he can share his frustrations and emotions with but also parental figures.

Eventually he warmed up to them, but more in the sense that he became attached to their attention and the praise he got when he did well in magic and other lessons. He didn’t showboat as much, but would push himself to get more compliments, praise and attention from Oromis. Oromis saw this more as Morzan taking his training seriously. There were a few instances of Morzan and his dragon being pointed out as instigators of some scuffles or small acts of possible, unproven acts of sabotage harming or tripping up other Riders-in-training, but these were generally believed to be accidents or bad luck.

Morzan’s bullying and belittling of Brom was the result of Morzan feeling like his unfettered access to Oromis and Glaedr’s attention was being threatened. He knew he couldn’t get away with physically injuring Brom and Saphira I, so his physical actions never really went past ‘accidental’ full force hits in sparring and roughhousing. If Brom got praise or compliments from Oromis, Morzan would seethe quietly, eventually exploding in rage at some later point after it built up. Again, Oromis merely thought this was just adolescent growing pains.

Wooo! That is getting LONG, eh? I’ve got more, but for now I’m going to move on to Oromis and his feelings around Morzan’s betrayal and link you to whatever extra stuff I add later. I’m really unsure about the timeline of when Morzan betrayed the Riders and when it was known that he had, so I’m mostly going to skip that chunk. Let's go!

Modern Inheritance!Oromis

Even without 100% knowing/being sure of Morzan’s betrayal, I think there was a whirlwind of confusion and general chaos when Galbatorix murdered Shurikan’s original Rider. Who was a child. A Rider had murdered a child Rider and while everyone knew Galbatorix was unstable I don’t think anyone would have expected that. Oromis was swept up in all this and didn’t have time to really ask where Morzan was. I mean, Morzan was a grown man at that point and well beyond Oromis’s control.

Morzan’s involvement was probably confirmed without a doubt at the initial attack on Ilirea, and Oromis and Glaedr didn’t have time to process this until after their brief capture.

Oromis felt some really strong guilt. That’s putting it bluntly.  Let’s expand it, shall we?

First off, I think Oromis felt some guilt over not being able to help in the sort of final big battle at Ilirea. He was previously quite powerful since he was on the council that refused Galbatorix a new dragon (that’s a whole other topic to look at later on btw), and despite his age and wisdom I think it’s safe to assume that any sudden event causing massive life changes can be pretty shocking. Oromis felt powerless and after the deaths that occured in Galbatorix’s initial attack with the Forsworn on the Riders, I think he knew that there would be more. And all he and Glaedr could do was hide in Ellesméra and tend to their wounds and new maladies.

As they healed I’m pretty sure Oromis spent a lot of time thinking ‘how could I have stopped this?’ Hindsight is...well, whatever-elves-have/20, and Oromis would have put all the signs together that were telling him that there was something off about Morzan from the start. He probably thought subconsciously that he was fixing Morzan and didn’t want to acknowledge just how dangerous that little 10 year old boy and scrawny hatchling he had met all those years ago had become as he grew. There was also a lot of guilt post-Ilirea’s final fall around not protecting Brom from Morzan enough, and feeling like a lot of Brom’s pain was Oromis’s own fault because of this.

Oh man, Oromis also has heaps of survivors guilt about the Riders that, while he does work through it and focuses on extending his life to train the next Rider, never really fades completely. He understands that he could not fight in his condition, but there’s always the nagging ‘what if’ questions that can rear up unexpectedly.

Once he learns of Murtagh and Thorn and their forced fealty to Galbatorix, I think Oromis’s guilt probably pushed him over to definitely join the fight at Gil’ead. It’s likely that he feels that if he had separated Brom and Morzan, had taken the signs of Morzan’s growing antisocial disorder seriously and gotten him proper help, and hadn’t been so blind during the Golden Age, then in some strange way he may have prevented everything from happening. Morzan wouldn’t have let Galbatorix into Ilirea, Shruikan wouldn’t have been stolen, the Forsworn wouldn’t have been influenced by Galbatorix and Morzan (who used his manipulative charm to sway some), and it all comes to, in the end, Murtagh and Thorn, both relatively innocent in this and dragged in only due to parentage and some situations which they have no control over, would have never been forced through torture and cruelty to join Galbatorix and fight people they once saw as friends and family.

Overall I think Oromis, while having processed/processing and come to terms with the Riders Fall and the hand he inadvertently had in it due to his connection to and, in some ways, his failures surrounding Morzan, he still carries this deep feeling of guilt. He doesn’t let it simply sit there though, as he pushes himself to be able to train the next generation, but it’s always there.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH okay that’s what I’ve got for now. Holy shit that’s a lot of bulletpoints, huh? 

I spent some time researching antisocial behavior and Antisocial Personality Disorder, but per usual I want to state that I am by no means an expert, and the behaviors and traits portrayed here are not the only results, symptoms, or scenarios that can occur when someone has antisocial behavior or ASPD. Mental health is a difficult subject to write about, especially when I have no personal or second hand experience with the specifics, and I’m always open to educating myself on these topics. I am doing my best to learn so that I don’t stereotype or offend. If there are comments/concerns/critique please please don’t ever feel bad about messaging me privately, via the comments, via reblog, or through the ask box point out what I got wrong or if you simply want to share your experiences or concerns. 

I’ll probably have more Morzan specific backstory and ideas later on, but for now I need to make some dinner and get to work on the other ask. Cheers!

Thank you again to @siriusly-misunderstood-creatures​ for the ask! I always appreciate asks and comments, they make my brain work!!

[peel-a-potato-with-a-potato]

So I binge read Invincible

What a trip of a story. Gotta say, I’m really hoping Amazon doesn’t screw it up, but what I’ve seen of the show so far seems to be a good update. The comic came out in 2003 after all, so there’s some parts that don’t hold up well 18 years later.

The ending wasn’t to my taste, but it was mostly satisfying. Spoilers if you keep reading beyond here.

The comic makes gratuitous use of time skipping, usually because of Mark being very vincible (yes, bad joke, don’t care), at several points. The worst ones for me were the 3 or 4 months he spent with his father and brother healing from a stomach wound and the 5 year skip after the “reboot”.

And oh boy do I have thoughts on that reboot. Some mysterious entity we are never given any further information on traps him in a cave and sends him back to being 17 with no powers on Earth. He proceeds to do everything in the most efficient way he can before giving up to be with his family. And then he’s back, but 5 years after he left. Was he really in the past or was that entity just messing with his mind? And did it really take him 5 years to process those few weeks? Or did he get brought back to the wrong time? Was that thing vengeful and wanted to rob him of what he wanted for disobeying it? And after that little section is over, we never hear about that thing again.

And then there’s the deaths of Oliver and Nolan. Both were mostly well done, Oliver died in battle (sure he would have wanted it that way), and Nolan died with his favorite son present. Or least favorite, it’s hard to tell at some points. And both were well used catalysts into propelling the story. Oliver’s death convinced Mark he had to act against Thragg. Nolan’s death put Mark in control of the new Viltrum Empire, and in direct opposition to Robot. I refuse to call him Rex. Rex Splode deserved better than that.

Through the whole series, I didn’t trust Robot. From the beginning, I had a bad feeling about him, and when he was revealed to be a human, Rudy, that pretty much cemented it for me. A genius who relies entirely on logic, even when they have an emotional attachment to someone? Yeah, if that doesn’t scream trouble, I don’t know what does. Putting his brain in a jar and leaving Immortal in charge seemed like the best option.

But that also brings up the question of why he left Immortal in charge at all. Having been brought to the future by two people working for Immortal just so he could get his death, don’t you think Mark would have remembered that? Would have known the pain he would cause his friend? Or was there really no better option? It does provide continuity, answers why Immortal was in charge, and I guess prevents a paradox, which is all probably why it was done. Mark doing that knowing what would happen though, it’s probably the most Viltrumite thing he does in the series, cold and devoid of human emotion. Mark does have a habit of disagreeing with his allies at times, and sometimes that leads to what feels like betrayal.

Even Allen got the short end of that stick, with the Viltrum Empire spreading peace at the end, Allen’s coalition fell apart. And Mark makes some good commentary there that definitely applies to Earth today. But wouldn’t you think he’d want to help Allen change the COP to make it better for those planets being exploited? That seemed to be his thing, but instead he just left them to figure it out.

Going back to immortality for a bit, let’s talk about Eve. She gets severely wounded and suddenly she becomes a god just long enough to patch herself back up. This is used a couple times, first on Eve alone, and then on herself and Mark. The first time she gives herself bigger breasts (yup, it’s a guy writing the series) and the second time Mark asks “Did you make me stronger?” while he flexes. Given that Eve was carrying their child at the time, it makes sense why he wouldn’t leave her power to kick in to replace her lost leg, but it ends up making death feel a bit cheap, the way Marvel and DC do by killing off their heroes and bringing them back. It’s really made worse when Eve dies of old age and is suddenly in her 20′s again. “Guess I’m immortal” my ass. If she’s just going to keep doing that, eventually she will outlive Mark’s thousands of years and she’ll be just as lonely as Immortal. Feels like they didn’t think the ramifications of that one through. I do enjoy the fact that Eve is always, and I do mean always, the one initiating their intimate moments though. A woman taking charge of her sexuality is nice to see.

And then there’s Marky. Poor Marky. Left alone on Earth with an adoptive human father while Mark ignored him because of his rage at Marky’s mother. Debbie steps in to help, and it’s clear Mark still has some contact with his son, but he’s definitely not going to have the support his father did growing up, even if he is the new Invincible. Why on earth would this poor half abandoned child take the name of the father that clearly doesn’t want to take much interest in him? I get it’s a carrying on the family legacy kind of thing, but it gives me weird vibes.

For all my griping though, I have to mention Cecil. Almost a perfect foil to Mark’s black and white thinking. Cecil only sees in shades of grey. No matter where someone’s actions put them in Mark’s eyes, Cecil always sees them as a force to be used to his own ends. Cecil’s need to protect people and his search for peace align so perfectly with Mark’s but because of his way of looking at the world and lack of superpowers, he contrasts so perfectly with the hero of the story. I disagree with Rudy that Cecil would have been okay dying to get the world brought about by Rudy, but I’m not really sure how to put those thoughts into words just yet.

But the ending in general, while neatly wrapping up most of the plot threads (looking at you tentacle entity from the reboot storyline), feels a bit too much like a happily ever after. Now that’s personal taste, but honestly, if they’d just ended it with Mark taking over and saying he was going to leave Earth with the Viltrumites on his mission to help the universe, I’d have been a lot happier leaving the rest up to the imagination. Instead, we get flashes of this race of near gods forcefully bringing peace to the universe and we end with another vaguely satisfying callback.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved the series and I’m honestly tempted to read it again to get a better idea of the callbacks and setups we see. The perspective on some things might be different now too, and that’s always interesting. I’m very much of the opinion that if you love something, you should be critical of it. And there’s a lot in Invincible that seems like doing something just to make the story work. I can’t tell if that’s just because of the medium or if it actually makes sense given that Mark is an alien, so maybe I would need to read it again to figure that out.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

The reason aoc had no stakes is cuz even if we lost link would just take a nap and then wake up and murder ganon with a stick

Ok I recognize that this is a joke and I love you good job have a lil kiss *mwah* nice joke nice joke but also I am in MAJOR WRITING MODE which means that I am prompted to write essays on the storytelling process at the flip of a switch and buddy, pal, chum, mate, this is a major switch that has been flipped

Because it gets on my nerves, it’s one of my BIGGEST PET PEEVES of ALL TIME, I abso-fucking-lutely DESPISE, when people think that stakes is equivalent to life and death. I just hate it, it makes me seethe to no end. I could grip the clouds from the heavens, and my rage would make it rain upwards.

People who think stakes is just about winning or losing or living or dying, I will stake you, I will do violent crimes. You wanna know why those big superhero movies like Justice League and what not don’t work? It’s because it thinks that big giant death armies are meaningful stakes. You know stuff like Civil War, or hell even shows like Attack on Titan or Gravity Falls work? It’s because it’s stakes exist both externally and internally, and the consequences of actions exist beyond just living or dying or winning or losing.

Listen to me very closely. The reason Age of Calamity has no stakes, is because you don’t care about the characters. It’s not because of the timelines, or resurrections, or whatever whatever, no. It’s because you don’t care about the characters.

Now Ashshshshsh, yes you love your bird and fish husbands and wives very much ok yes I get that, I do too. BUT, BUT, when you look at this from the storytelling perspective, like thinking from the perspective of someone experiencing the story fresh for the very first time, with or without botw context. You did not care about the characters, you cared about the ending. That is why there are no stakes. 

Why the fuck do you care if Teba dies? Like, sure, if Teba dies, you are sad, the character that you love is dead, you might even cry! But why do you care, what are the consequences of his death, what happens if he dies, what does he, on a character level lose?

What you’re typically supposed to do to get your audience to care, is establish a character, develop them, then give them a goal and a need to attain that goal, a good goal or motivation that affects a character both externally and internally, and then when the conflict or battle comes up, you’re left with that feeling of “oh no, I really hope this character wins, because otherwise, [insert something] happens, and I don’t want that.” That’s what stakes is, in very broad concept. 

That’s why living and dying is a form of stakes, but it’s not the only one. “Oh no, this character is hurt, I really hope this character wins, because I like them, and I want them to live.” That’s you stakes. Same idea with winning and losing. “Oh no, this character is losing this volleyball match. I really hope this character wins, because they’ve worked hard to reach their goal, and I don’t want to see that go to waste.” Okay, great. 

Now the PROBLEM is, those concepts are overdone to the point of extinction, like it’s arguable that the stakes of living and dying just doesn’t exist as a strong good form of stakes in media anymore. Whether by symptom of plot armour, of predictable writing, or the establishment of modern tropes and clichés, blah blah blah, you can’t solely rely on those ideas for stakes. ESPECIALLY in the realm, of video games. I don’t need to spell out the whole living and dying aspect of it right? And the winning and losing stakes goes out the window because that concept has an entirely different meaning and tone when the player is the one in control. Essentially what I’m saying here is, on a character level, you can’t rely on those ideas as a sense of stakes because it just doesn’t have meaning. But the thing is, Age of Calamity does rely on it. And it SOME aspects, it worked. 

You have experience good stakes in this game before. You’ve probably done it on some crazy tough side mission or some interesting self-made quest to find yourself that last raw bird wing to finish up that upgrade. You yourself struggled, and understood the journey that you went through, the time that you invested to make yourself better (as big or small as it may be) at the game, and you eventually beat that level, or found that item. And you were genuinely relieved and happy. Whether you realized it or not, you were on the edge of your seat, intently focused on the task and “battle” at hand, you were invested in yourself, and the effects of the outcome of your struggle. That’s what good stakes does. That’s why so many videogames have impactful story telling.

But listen here, the reason you only experience those good stakes through the gameplay, is because you don’t need to put in the effort to care about yourself. You’re you! You know yourself, you played out your motivations and struggles. That all happens without the games help. So now the issue becomes, you need to emulate that same feeling for the story world and it’s characters. And Age of Calamity just puts in none of the meaningful work to get you care about the CHARACTERS on a CHARACTER LEVEL. It relies SOLEY on the work done by Breath of the Wild, with the exceptions of maybe Kohga and King Rhoam. And also Sidon is an exception in the sense that his relationship to his sister is a pretty decent stake (but tbh the bar is VERY LOW)

We’ve established how the stakes of winning or losing or living through a battle don’t have as much strength as motivations or stakes in this game. So, knowing that....Name Daruk’s motivation. Name a true and honest reason why Zelda shouldn’t die. And don’t tell me that “because it would make the other characters sad” because that is just a reaction to events (based on the characterization and writing work done by AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT GAME cause again Hwaoc doesn’t character develop for shit) being sad isn’t motivation, or stakes. Being sad is a normal human reaction to anything ever, it isn’t anything new, and by god it doesn’t inherently impact the world or story around you.

You know what would have been good stakes? If Age of Calamity developed the New Gen Champs a bit more and maybe one of them could say something like, “I feel it’s my duty to help stop the Calamity, because the fact that I time traveled here means that I have a big responsibility, and if we lose then I’m a failure in both this time and my own. So I need to step up to the plate that has been set for me” or something something. Or, and this is a big one, give ASTOR something to do (because stakes is inherently about CONFLICT and you can’t have good internal and external stakes when there is nothing to CONFLICT with the other characters) let Astor be like “This world doesn’t deserve to go on, humanity has made too many mistakes, I was abandonded as a child, the King murdered my mom, I need power to get revenge, or to revive some dead family member” blah blah blah pick one of the clichés but at least it would be SOMETHING. When motivations conflict, that’s what gets you to care about characters, because then it’s not just about living or dying, it about the effects of that death, or that loss. If this character dies, they died believing a lie, or believing they were a failure and I don’t want that. If this character is defeated, they won’t get another chance to save the people they care about, and I don’t want them living with regret. These two characters have sympathetic goals, and I can see the points that both sides have with their motivation, but I also like them so I don’t want them to die, oh no, what’s gonna happen. 

If you don’t CARE about the characters, and their goals, if the only thing that’s keeping you awake at night about them living or dying is “I like them” then there is something wrong. 

You didn’t finish Age of Calamity because of the characters, you didn’t finish it out of an honest desire to see these characters reach their goals. MAYBE there’s a connection you had for Zelda, but honestly compared to Breath of the Wild, it’s nothing. You finished Age of Calamity simply out of curiosity to see what happened at the end, to see what your efforts of gameplay lead up to. You had no actual character arcs to latch onto or care about, which means you had no expectations or desire to see how they would play out, no STAKES no INVESTMENT. Which means live, die, resurrect, or perma-death as you see, you’re not invested in the characters, your invested in the time you put into that media. 

[drummergirl231-2]

Happy Autism Awareness/Acceptance Day 2020!

To me, true awareness and acceptance go hand-in-hand. I still don’t mind the word “awareness,” since most people, even people who think they’re spreading Autism awareness, aren’t totally aware of what it is or what it’s like. But I also love calling it Autism Acceptance Day, because that’s what we need more than anything. 

To spread some awareness, I’d like to address some misconceptions about Autism and share some other thoughts I wish people knew/understood.

1. Autists/Aspies do not lack empathy. 

I found this thing and it explains it super well so I’ll just leave it here:

Imagine a scenario where you say something totally innocent and it triggers the person you’re talking to. They start flying off the handle at you and you don’t know why. But because they’re angry, you are, too. But since you don’t know why they’re angry, you don’t know why you’re angry, either. It’s crazy overwhelming and confusing. And you want to fix whatever you did because you don’t want this other person to be angry or hurt, but you don’t know how, because their all-consuming rage makes it really hard to think and try to put yourself in their shoes. Also, you’re scared on top of it all.

That’s what having high affective and compassionate empathy and low cognitive empathy is like. It’s not that we don’t care. It’s that we care too much, and all the super specific nuances of socializing are things we have to learn one at a time, through either our mistakes or others’ mistakes. These things don’t come naturally to us, but it’s not like we can’t learn. If I were to compare math to socializing, it’s like you all have calculators or other doohickeys to do all the math for you and we just have paper and a pencil... and no eraser. 

2. Autism is not a mental illness to be “cured.”

Now don’t get me wrong, I am ALL FOR people finding ways to help us be able to deal with the world better, whether that’s a better diet, items to block out sensory stimuli or items that stimulate, or counselling that can help us navigate social situations and talk through anxiety and/or depression. But those things don’t “cure,” us because Autism isn’t a disease or something wrong with us. Autism gives us different challenges, sure, but neutotypicals have their own challenges. 

The symptoms typically associated with “low-functioning,” Autism don’t necessarily have to be a part of Autism. Many non-verbal kids grow up to be verbal. That doesn’t mean they stopped being autistic. There was a celebrity mom years ago who claimed to “cure” her son’s Autism with a gluten-free dairy-free diet. He’d been so trapped in his head, he couldn’t engage with the world around him. She altered his diet and one day he laughed at Spongebob, and that was a turning point. He became able to interact with people and react to things on TV. It was a huge breakthrough. But he was still autistic. If you were to have plopped me down on a rug as a toddler next to a toddler like this celebrity’s son before his altered diet, you wouldn’t think I was autistic at all by comparison. But I was, and I am.

Autism is a different neurological blueprint, and yes, brain-healthy diets and detoxes can do wonders for us because it seems like our brain type does make us more susceptible to negative effects from neurotoxins. But if you think someone has lost their Autism just because “the bad parts,” went away... no. That’s not how it works.

3. Not everyone is “a little autistic.” 

When I was newly diagnosed and trying to process it, someone told me something along the lines of, there there, we’re all a little autistic. But that’s not true. There are a lot of traits associated with this brain type, and yes, a neurotypical person can have a few of them. That doesn’t make them a little autistic. To be considered autistic at all, you’d have to have a large number of quirks plus social delays (not associated with excessive technology use), odd or repetitive behaviors, unusual and intense interests, communication struggles, and unusual sensory processing. Suppose you’re white. If you are white, this should be easy to imagine. Say an African American just told you about some of the challenges they’ve faced, whether it’s race-based bullying in school or racial profiling later on. Would it be appropriate to say, “There there, we’re all a little black?” NO. One, it’s false. Two, while all people struggle with stuff because to be human is to struggle sometimes, the struggles of different groups of people are totally different, and you can’t say you know exactly what it’s like or pretend everyone’s the same. We all have equal dignity and worth, but beyond that, everyone’s different. Don’t pretend differences don’t exist. Just value them.

4. Autism doesn’t have a “look.”

When I tell people I’m autistic, this is usually what I hear: “Wow! I wouldn’t have guessed! You don’t look autistic.”  ...What does that even mean??? Is it supposed to be a compliment? Because if it’s a compliment I “don’t look autistic,” then that’s kind of an insult to other autistic people. Or do they mean it like, “I don’t believe you’re really autistic because I have a preconceived idea of what an autistic person looks like and you don’t fit the bill so I’m not going to give you grace if you act weird?” I don’t know. Y’all say weird things too, sometimes, ya know? But Autism doesn’t have a look. There is a sort of distant intensity in our gaze sometimes... and I can legit see it when Jim Parsons plays Sheldon Cooper, but when I see an interview with him as himself, it’s gone. It’s not a fixed feature of our faces, and a talented NT could totally put it on.

5. Autism presents itself differently in boys and girls.

You know how not a lot of people know the symptoms of heart attacks in women because mainly people only talk about what a heart attack is like for men? It’s kinda like that with Autism, too. Typically when you hear about Autism, you’re hearing about the signs and symptoms in boys. Even most pediatricians only know to look for the way it presents in boys, which is how so many girls don’t get a diagnosis until later in life, if ever.  One difference is that, for whatever reason, girls tend to be better at nonverbal communication and taking hints. We’re mimics. Chameleons. We take on the mannerisms of those around us and who we see on TV as we force ourselves to adapt. Verbal boys might speak at unusual volumes or with an unusual voice, rhythm, or cadence, but verbal girls learn to mimic the speech patterns of others. Our special interests/obsessions aren’t typically seen as strange given our age and sex. For example, a six-year-old autistic boy might be fascinated by WWII. I was interested in fetal development. People thought, “What’s so weird about that? She’s a little girl who loves babies.” We often play with Barbies or other dolls long after our peers have stopped. It helps autistic girls process social situations. When I was shamed out of liking Barbies, I started writing stories in notebooks or in my head. Autistic boys usually struggle with social communication from an early age, but autistic girls usually don’t have any major communication struggles until adolescence, when relationships, platonic or romantic, get way more complicated.  Since little autistic girls can mimic their neurotypical peers, and since some doctors only know how to look for Autism in boys, we tend to fly under the radar, causing that huge gender gap in diagnoses.

6. Mental illness is common with Autism, but NOT part of it.

I read an article by an autist in the UK who struggles to get help for his anxiety or depression because therapists have brushed him off, saying “Well, that’s just part of being Autistic, so it can’t be helped.” NO! Just like neurotypicals can be mentally healthy or unhealthy, Autistic people can be mentally healthy or unhealthy. Just because something is common for us doesn’t mean it’s how it’s supposed to be, or that it’ll always be that way, or that it’s part of who we are and we need to embrace it. People with mental illnesses should be embraced (literally or figuratively, depending on what they’re comfortable with). Mental illnesses should not be embraced. Ever. Because autistic kids and adults often face abuse, bullying, discrimination, and are ostracized, anxiety (especially social anxiety) and depression are common for us. In more serious cases, especially in autistic teens and young adults, dissociative disorders can develop. What’s worse, it doesn’t take much looking to find the dark corners of the internet where people, autistic or not, are encouraged to embrace their developing dissociative thoughts and feelings. I once saw an interview with someone who found healing from a dissociative disorder, and she gets emails every day from others with the same disorder she had who regret some of the things they were talked into doing while living with the condition and  who want to find the healing she did. She said many of them are autistic and under the age of twenty-five. Autistic people with mental illnesses shouldn’t be talked into believing their mental illnesses are a part of them, or not mental illnesses at all, or something to celebrate and cling to. I reject the notion we should have to settle for being ill in any way. We deserve to be as healthy and whole as anyone else, and it makes me sick there are so many internet predators preying on us in this way, and that there are therapists who think Autism and mental illness has to be a packaged deal.

7. If LGBT people were treated the way autistic people are by the media, it’d lead to outrage. But it seems like no one is outraged on our behalf.

We’ve seen the news stories, haven’t we? A couple invites the news over to their house, upsetting their autistic child who then has a meltdown, the meltdown is filmed and aired, and the parents are just like, “This is what our life is like because of Autism. And it sucks. Pity us.”

There was one video I saw... I’m just so enraged by it, even after two years. A mother was praised for her open honesty as she vilified her autistic son and complained about how he ruined her life and how hard it is to go out and have people stare. I’m sorry, hard for WHO??? I don’t even want to go into the details. I know only sharing this much doesn’t make it sound like that bad of a video, it’s just... ugh. Guys. It’d be a whole separate post. I can’t deal with it right now. 

If parents went on the news after their kid came out to them as gay, and wept and begged for pity and said some of the things this woman said of her autistic son (wondering what she did wrong that made her deserve this or that led to this or saying she doesn’t believe in God but finds herself praying anyway that God’ll “fix him”), America would call them the worst parents ever. But parents of autistic kids who do this are praised for their openness and vulnerability as they publicly shame their child.

Another time, after a mass shooting carried out by a teenage boy, the news reported that he was autistic and that might have contributed to the attack (there they go, combining mental illness with Autism as one and the same again).

If a pedophile were arrested, and they said on the news, “And we just got word that he’s gay, so that may be why,” there’d be a riot. But the news can pin autists as mass murderers and no one bats an eye!

All of May last year working at a clothing store, I watched as various departments filled up with pride t-shirts to get ready for June, and I couldn’t help but think,

Where were the Autism acceptance t-shirts in March to get ready for April?

I probably shouldn’t be so surprised with the media painting us as life-ruiners and life-enders. 

I know it’s a vile and disgusting thing for me to be jealous of LGBT people in this way, especially since they have their own struggles, too. I just wish society had our backs and celebrated us instead of wanting us “fixed,” for their own convenience, ya know?

8. Almost all of us hate Autism Speaks, and those who don’t are probably just new. XD

I used to be all “Light it up blue!” as well (even though that seemed weird to me, given blue lights might be overwhelming to some people on the spectrum). But then I read something on their site that made me feel really betrayed, and down the line, I learned most autistic people hate them... some because they saw them say the opposite of what I saw they said. Basically we all have different opinions but Autism Speaks spouts whatever information their donors want them to (sellouts), and that donated money doesn’t go towards helping us, but toward more fundraising or research on how to prevent people with our brain type. I guess they’re not fond of the artistic and scientific advancements we bring to the table. They should change those puzzle pieces from blue or multi-colored to white with black specks because they want a world that’s vanilla. 

9. Some of us still like the puzzle pieces, even if we hate Autism Speaks.

I’ve talked about this in a fanfic, but I’d love it if we could redeem the puzzle pieces, because they’re still a good analogy if you assign a different meaning. Autists and NTs are puzzling to each other, no sense denying that, but the more time we spend together, the more we start to understand each other. Also, Autism does have a lot of pieces, and figuring out I was autistic was like solving the puzzle of my life. The missing pieces came together and things became clearer and made more sense. Also also, some autistic people are really good at puzzles. And then there are autists like me who aren’t necessarily good at puzzles, but get totally absorbed in working on them anyway (my parents have been doing some puzzles during the quarantine lol they’re traps! TRAPS I SAY!!!).

Nevertheless, I understand why other autistis don’t like the puzzle pieces and prefer the rainbow infinity symbol, and I quite like it, too. It’s very pretty, and the way the colors fade together is a nice symbol of how it’s a spectrum.

It’s a sign of the infinite possibilities in our lives when we’re empowered, because we can do and have done good and great things in the world.

[fullmetalscullyy]

the way it was - chapter 37

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1915

i can only tell you how it, how it looks from here

i think you've made up your mind

i think you've made up your mind

Everything about this room set Riza’s nerves on edge. The glaring white walls were bright enough to give her a headache. The decaying body across from them, surrounded by pieces of smashed armour, was creating a stench strong enough to make her gag. Riza pressed a hand against her mouth and nose, stifling it as best she could. It didn’t help much. The smell still made her stomach lurch.

Aside from the foreboding atmosphere of the room, the smirking homunculus at the other end was making her skittish. That was the same one who’d tried to kidnap her earlier, probably to use her against Roy. When they’d first set eyes on Riza, Envy flashed her a smile with teeth fully on show. It was unsettling.

“Nice to see you again, Riza,” they’d sneered at her.

In response Riza lifted her gun higher, aiming down sights to settle it upon their face.

It had been a while since she’d fired a gun. Riza wasn’t sure if she had it in her to shoot to kill someone, but she would do her utmost to protect those she loved. The wounds didn’t need to kill, just hinder, and slow them down. The thought settled uncomfortably in her gut but Riza was not naïve. The homunculi wouldn’t go easy on her just because she was a civilian. When it came down to it, she had her children and her husband to fight for. She’d fight to survive for them. Growing up she’d learned how to survive from a young age and had been forced into doing what needed to be done far too soon. Now would be no different. If they threatened to kill her, kill her family, then she’d fight back. There was no question about it. The weight and consequences of any actions would be dealt with later.

After Envy’s welcome party Roy stepped up close behind her. He placed his hand gently upon her hip to garner her attention.

“Stay close,” he murmured in her ear, before moving around her, placing himself between her and Envy.

He didn’t know just how much comfort that action provided.

Even half shielded from view, Riza never relaxed. Her gun lowered so it wouldn’t be pointed at the back of Roy’s head, but her muscles were still coiled tightly and ready to react at a moment's notice. She didn’t let her guard down.

“Got your back,” Riza replied quietly.

Still facing away, Roy’s head bobbed once. Taking that as a sign he acknowledged her, Riza turned her gaze to the rest of the room. Her eyes skipped between everyone in front of her, making sure Edward was all right.

The strap of the rifle Breda had presented to her threatened to slip off her shoulder, so Riza shrugged it back into a comfortable place. She didn’t see the need for her to have two weapons however she had to admit, she did feel more comfortable with the rifle. That was what she’d grown up with and it was a comfort to know her preferred weapon wasn’t far away. Not that she wanted a weapon at all, but Riza knew these people could very easily kill her. She didn’t want to be left defenceless. Not when she had two children waiting for her to come home.

Finally, returning to the conversation, Riza turned her attention to Envy. They smirked maddeningly and Riza’s stomach twisted.

“Congratulations, Colonel Mustang. You’ve finally hunted down your culprit.”

Her stomach dropped.

Envy’s body glowed bright red, changing and morphing into -

Gracia.

They’d… They’d killed Maes… Using Gracia’s face...

The gun in Riza’s hands dipped to point at the floor with her shock. Riza didn’t even realise. She was too stuck on the revelation that this was the person who’d killed one of her dearest friends. They’d taken a loving father away from a child, left a woman widowed… Made him think his own wife had killed him - 

“That’s enough.”

Bile crawled its way up Riza’s throat, but it stalled when she saw Roy move. Her head snapped to face him, seeing his whole body shaking with…

Rage.

Gloves were tightened over his hands and all Riza wanted to do was reach out, place a hand on his shoulder, and jerk him back, out of reach of Envy. Anything to break his concentration. Envy was taunting Roy, playing with him, and it caused Riza’s fear to skyrocket. Roy had already been volatile enough about this topic of conversation at home. He didn’t need to be teased further about Maes’ murderer. But Riza was frozen in place. Her brain was still trying to process that this was who’d murdered Maes Hughes.

Roy walked toward Envy so Riza lifted her gun, training it on Envy’s form now that Roy had stepped out of her line of fire. She swallowed thickly, past the lump in her throat.

“This one is mine, and mine alone.”

Her breath caught, eyes nervously shifting over to look at Roy again.

Please… Please don’t do anything reckless, she pleaded inside her head.

“Mrs. Mustang, do you really think the two of you -?”

“Edward, go.” She shifted her grip on the gun. The day was not won, and they still had a job to do. Edward still had his own goals to achieve. “You’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Are you sure?”

“She said go, Elric,” Roy snapped.

Riza frowned at the back of his head, affronted by his tone. Still, she wanted Edward out of here. Riza felt the same way about the young girl standing by Scar too. She was sure they were more than capable, but her maternal instinct was clawing its way to the surface. She could handle Roy, and they had somewhere better to be.

They walked by without incident. Envy glared as they passed but made no move to stop the group. Their tongue was still smoking after Roy had snapped earlier, burning it to stop them from talking.

“You go too -”

“She’s not getting to leave,” Envy sneered. “No,” they smirked, “I think she can stay here with you and watch how you work, Colonel.” Envy snickered to themselves and Riza’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

Before Roy could open his mouth to reply there was a deafening crack of energy.

The pistol fell limp by her side. Riza’s mouth parted in complete shock, brain struggling to comprehend what was in front of her.

Envy had changed shape completely. The massive form of a green… She didn’t even know what to class it as. It was no beast she knew of, more a culmination of numerous beings all mashed together into one. The human bodies and faces that pressed out from the green skin almost made her vomit. It would be naïve to think they weren’t real people stuck inside there but… Riza couldn’t help but hope beyond hope. A foolish hope, but enough to keep her sane for the moment. It was enough to keep her breakfast in her stomach and stop the horror from keeping her completely frozen in place.

Her fear about running from the imposter at her front door was validated in that moment. Initially she’d been compliant so she could avoid any kind of conflict as the homunculus’ powers were unknown. Seeing this new form in front of her Riza was really damn glad she hadn’t fought it. Those massive paws could end her life in one playful swipe.

“I’ll give you the fight you’re looking for Colonel, seeing as you’ve been so relentless in your search for Hughes’ killer. However, I can’t exactly tread lightly in this body so you better -”

Envy’s eyes erupted into flames. Riza balked at the show, their howl of agony slicing through her entire body and making her shudder. 

“What’s it like having the fluid inside of your eyes boil? I’d imagine it might sting a little,” Roy stated coldly.

Riza turned to look at her husband. Dread prickled over her skin, lifting the hairs on her arms, and turning her blood to ice. Horror roiled inside her chest, squeezing her heart painfully and making her break out in a cold sweat.

Enraged, Roy didn’t relent on his assault and Riza could only watch on, terrified.

This was the power she’d unleashed upon the world. These flames had ravished the desert, razing it, and destroying everything in its path. Riza was well aware of this, had discussed it with Roy years ago, but had never seen it at work.

“I think she can stay here with you and watch how you work, Colonel.”

Envy had already known of Roy’s destructive power.

Shortly after they were married, he’d playfully lit the fireplace with it, used it to light the gas on the cooker – sometimes with almost disastrous results – but after Ishval the gloves were neatly tucked away inside a drawer and were never brought out except for when he went to work. He never wore them again inside their home, taking his time to coax a fire from the coals on their hearth, or almost burn his fingers with a match.

This was the power that had torn him apart once before, it was threatening to do it again.

Riza couldn’t let that happen.

Envy’s massive form shifted, their tail swinging to hit the wall beside them. The force of it blasted rock towards Roy and Riza’s heart lifted into her throat.

“Roy!”

His hands lifted to in front of his face to try and shield it, but she lost sight of him as more stone flew by and dust filled the room. Riza crouched low, feeling grains of stone scrape gently across her hands as she covered her head. Luckily, she was out of range of Envy’s attack.

“You coward!” Roy barked.

She heard footsteps against the stone floor, running. As the dust cleared she saw her husband running towards the door Edward had walked through, and Envy was nowhere to be seen.

“Roy, wait!”

She was desperate. Riza took a step towards him. She’d heard the fury in his voice, saw the inferno of hate inside his eyes before he’d attacked Envy. In her mind she was silently begging Roy not to run headfirst into something he’d regret. But she never got a chance to voice it aloud.

“You stay here where it’s safe,” he called over his shoulder, running towards the door. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I’m going to take care of Envy myself,” he spat.

She hated hearing the fury in his voice. That wasn’t the Roy she knew. This wasn’t the doting father who laughed and cherished his children. Riza knew his time in the military hadn’t been sunshine and roses. It had been difficult and cruel, but this was something else entirely. He was changing, teetering on the edge of morphing into… into a monster. If pushed enough he just might. The realisation of it cut deep into her chest, making it ache as she exhaled.

Her shoulders slumped as she stared after his retreating form. She felt momentarily helpless –

Riza frowned. As if she would stay and let him run off to fight Envy alone. The irritation and anger she’d felt festering during their last argument about him seeking revenge and justice came hurtling back. He was losing it, but he’d already said he didn’t want to become a monster again. Riza wouldn’t let him.

The pistol was gripped tightly in her palm. Riza started moving and picked up her pace to a run. Her gun was cocked and ready.

As she walked through the tunnels she’d heard the explosions, heard Envy’s distant screams. Riza was on high alert. The blasts and the screaming eventually stopped but she wouldn’t let her guard down until she knew for certain Envy had been defeated. The sudden lack of them made her wonder if Roy had already defeated and delivered his justice to Envy, but she held onto the slim hope that maybe they’d just escaped. She clung to it desperately.

Footsteps were approaching her current position. They were in the hallway ahead, heavy but steady as they walked. Ducking, she hurried as quietly as she could to the opening where the tunnel she was in opened up into another. Gun poised and ready, she waited for whoever was approaching to come into view.

At the last second, Riza spun out and swung her gun, lifting it so it came face to face with - 

Roy.

She blinked at him, surprised to have seen him so soon. Her shoulders fell with relief and realisation but paused when she saw the dark look in his eyes. His stare was hard as he looked down on her.

A seed of doubt planted itself into her mind when he remained, poised to snap at her, for a moment longer. He should have recognised her right away...

Was this…

Unless he thought she was Envy.

“I told you to stay behind, Riza.” Roy straightened his posture and lowered his hand to his side. His hand relaxed and went limp.

“I wasn’t going to let you face this alone. I already told you that.”

Riza thought he might argue with her, stating it wasn’t safe down here, but he just scoffed quietly and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Where’s Envy?” She rose to her feet and lowered her pistol but didn't loosen her grip.

“They outran me.” He turned away from her, speaking into the empty tunnel. “This place is like a labyrinth. You might as well help me kill them now that you’re here. Stay right by my side, Riza,” he ordered over his shoulder. “Don’t leave it.”

Without another word, Roy walked off, leaving her to stare after him.

That seed of doubt was putting down roots and sprouting slowly within her mind.

Riza started to walk behind him. He didn’t even acknowledge her.

“You might as well help me kill them”. That didn’t sit well with Riza at all.

I don’t want to get you involved. He’d told her that, adamant about that fact, when she’d offered to help Winry after she’d had a run in with Scar. He’d begged her to stop pushing for her own safety, as well as their unborn child’s.

I didn’t intend for this to happen. He’d been miserable as he reassured her of that on their couch after his meeting with Bradley. And it was me that put you in harm’s way.

This isn’t over, he’d vowed after seeing that Pride had hurt her. I swear my life on it.

Roy had never wanted her to get her involved in anything relating to his work. He’d even fought to share his plans for the day with her, stating the less she knew the better. However, she’d managed to wear him down and it had helped him to talk it through with someone, rather than shoulder it all by himself.

Before running off after Envy he’d even told her to stay where it was safe. That he didn’t want her to get hurt. Why would he invite her to help him kill Envy, when he knew that was the opposite of what Riza wanted him to do?

This was not her husband.

Riza lifted her pistol towards Roy’s head. She let out a quiet breath, ignoring the horrible imagery of pointing a gun at her husband, poised to kill.

He stopped, turning to half face her. His fringe was almost hiding his eyes, but his expression never changed. It was the same steely one he’d worn earlier when he didn’t lower his hand, despite realising it was her around the corner.

It was possible he was just being cautious but his command to help him kill Envy was what settled it for Riza.

Slowly, Roy turned back around and lifted his hands in surrender. “Do you know who your gun is pointed at?” 

Riza scoffed. “Who? Don’t make me laugh. When we’re alone, my husband calls me by my maiden name. A throwback, to old times.”

She heard Roy gasp, then jump away in a flash. As he did so, red sparks erupted from his body as it morphed into Envy. “Maiden name?” Envy scoffed. “What kind of weird marriage do you two have -?”

“I lied.”

Riza fired, hitting Envy in the face with her bullet. They cried out in pain, hurtling backwards to crash into the ground. Her stomach lurched with the impact of that first shot, very aware that she’d fired at another ‘human being’. She knew they couldn’t be killed so easily but… It was still jarring.

Just like it had been after her first successful hunt as a child.

Fight to survive, Riza.

Red sparks erupted around Envy’s face, healing the wound she’d just made, repairing skin and muscle insanely fast. It angered Riza that they could heal and repair themself so easily while a friend couldn’t and had been left for dead in a phone booth in the middle of Central.

“It was nice of you to fall for it though, Envy. And now you can do us all the favour of dying.”

Riza fired again and again, almost emptying a clip into the homunculus. 

“Ow! That hurts!” Envy yelled at her.

Something very green and sharp shot towards Riza, cutting into the skin of her shoulder faster than she could react. The arm that held her gun jerked out as she ground her teeth together against the pain. The way her body spun from the impact made the rifle strapped to her back lose its grip on her clothing and it slipped down her other arm. Riza caught it quickly, so fast that even she couldn’t believe it, but she was being fuelled by indignation and this being’s carelessness for human life, as well as adrenaline. With that combination, the rifle was caught easily.

Riza’s knees buckled with surprise and the sudden pain in her shoulder. One hit the ground painfully as she steadied herself, getting ready to fire. Despite the rough treatment and the recovery from Envy’s strike, she still managed to hit her target.

Envy’s body jerked with the hit, pushing them back a step with every single one until they dropped to their knees.

“You’re really annoying with that thing!”

Furious, another bolt of green disrupted the stones beneath her feet before shooting up and racing towards Riza. She stood sharply but it was too fast to dodge. It wrapped around her entire body, sealing her arms against her body tightly. It squeezed impossibly tight, restricting her ability to breathe. Gasping for a breath, Riza’s eyes bugged open wide as she was lifted off the ground. Knowing what was coming before it happened should have helped her prepare, but she was too caught off guard. She was still recovering from the sudden lack of oxygen and the pain lancing through her shoulder. She was slammed down into the concrete, the back of her head bouncing sickeningly off the stone. There was a crack as her hair clip broke and let her hair loose. The blonde strands tumbled down her back and over her shoulder, springing free from their restraint.

“I’ll dump you at his feet like a rag!” Envy cackled.

Gasping, Riza lay there as she tried to blink away the spots from her vision. They danced in front of her, but one thing did make its way into her pain addled mind, there was a quiet snap in the distance. It sounded so out of place that it caught her attention. Riza knew what that snap meant.

Envy screamed as Riza felt a sudden heat. Looking down her body Riza saw flames lick at the green appendage holding her still. They stopped far enough down that they wouldn’t harm her, but the sudden rush of flames made the skin of her face heat up.

“Roy,” she cried out, partly with relief and partly to get him to stop.

There was another snap and Envy was consumed by fire. Their screams drowned out Roy’s approach so Riza had no idea where he was.

“What in the hell are you doing to my wife?”

Riza’s head snapped up, blood running cold at the fury she heard in his voice. His face was like thunder as Roy stared Envy down. Glancing over at their enemy, Riza finally saw fear in Envy’s face. They were petrified. They’d made a mistake going after her and now there would be hell to pay.

“Don’t interfere, Riza.” His tone was softer as he spoke to her but that look in his eyes… His rage knew no bounds. “I told you I would deal with this, and I don’t want you to get involved.”

Before she had a chance to reply hell rained down on Envy, like fire and brimstone. Roy snapped and grunting, letting out all of his fury as he sent attack after attack at the homunculus to drain their power. It blew her hair away from her face and the intensity of the heat almost made her turn away.

All Riza could do was stare. She felt numb.

He’s going to kill them. He’s giving into that hatred.

She had to do something. She had to move.

Struggling to her feet was a great effort. Riza felt herself stagger. She was almost knocked backwards by the force of Roy’s alchemy and her head was still spinning from the hit she’d sustained after being slammed into the ground.

After one last ferocious blast Envy’s body started to disintegrate. It crumbled into a charred mess, leaving a tiny green creature in its place. Their voice turned almost child-like as they cursed Roy, crawling away from their own remains with tears in their eyes.

Roy approached and lowered his foot harshly atop Envy’s body. They were squashed underneath his boot, almost crushed completely. Any slight increase in pressure and they’d be dead.

Like hell Riza would let Roy do that to them.

“So this is your true form then?” The growl in his voice almost made Riza sick.

Stop… This isn’t you, Roy… Stop it, please.

“You’re ugly.”

Envy whined, begging for Roy not to do it, just like Riza was in her mind.

“I don’t want to die!” Envy cried desperately, tiny limbs flailing frantically.

It was too much for her to take anymore. Catching herself on the wall, Riza shoved herself so she was standing.

“I’m not giving you a choice. Now burn in hell!”

His fingers snapped together. Riza lifted her weapon, cocking and pointing it at Roy’s head, as her heart broke clean in two.

“Roy!”

Her yell echoed around the tunnel, bouncing off the walls with such clarity even she didn’t expect it. In the lull of the explosions the world sounded eerily quiet. Roy’s quiet gasp filled it once he realised what she was doing. His body stilled, his foot easing slightly on Envy’s body underneath his boot.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His tone was harsh but genuine surprise had seeped into it as well.

“Stop this,” Riza commanded, putting as much authority into her voice as she possibly could. Her gun shook in her hand, the grip slacking. No. She couldn’t let herself slip now. Not after all they’d already been through with this discussion. She wouldn’t let him talk to her like that either. The grip on the gun tightened. “I’ll deal with Envy from here on out.”

“Riza. Lower your weapon,” he ordered with the same authority she’d heard him use with his team at work.

Riza was no soldier and had to follow no such order. She was his wife, she loved him, and she’d made a promise that she’d watch his back and watch out for him always. He’d asked her to do that and she wasn’t about to let him down.

If I lost myself to all of this… That’s not the husband or father I want to be. I don’t want to be a monster again.

I choose you. I choose all three of you. There’s no contest and never has been.

He’d picked his side, that night in the darkened bedroom, and she wasn’t going to let him back out now.

“No. Put your hand down, Roy.”

He scoffed. “I won’t ask you again!” He shouted, almost startling her. He’d never used that tone with her before, never been so angry towards her like this. It didn’t even sound like her husband. The barrel of the gun quivered.

There was the sound of a transmutation and the ground beneath his foot was alchemised, disrupting their conversation. It rose up sharply to throw Roy off balance and send Envy sailing through the air. They were both startled out of their argument by the sudden appearance of Edward Elric and Scar.

Edward plucked Envy out of the air effortlessly, gripping onto them tightly with a scowl on his face.

“Fullmetal.”

Riza’s head turned sharply back to face Roy, noting how much calmer he sounded. But it was all a ruse. He hadn’t changed one bit. The fists at Roy’s side began to shake with his fury. One of his arms extended outwards towards Edward.

“I’ll be taking that.”

Edward was surprised by the request, seemingly unsure for a second. He glanced over at Riza and she shook her head the tiniest fraction.

“That is an order. Give them to me, right now!”

“No, I won’t,” Edward refused and Riza felt herself relax the tiniest amount.

With a controlled movement, Roy’s arm lowered. Alchemic energy still sparked around his gloves, a sign that he hadn’t given up the transmutation yet. He still needed to decide where to direct it.

Not at Edward and Envy, Riza pleaded. She couldn’t take it if he did.

“Elric,” Roy growled. “That thing belongs to me.”

“No they don’t!”

“Give them to me! Or I’ll burn up your hand along with it!” Roy’s hand twisted, pointed towards Edward.

“Roy!” she scolded, outraged that he’d threaten such a thing, and to Edward of all people too.

He’s almost gone, Riza. Do something!

Edward wasn’t one to give in so easily either, though. He interrupted before Riza could recover from her burst of anger. “Try it then!” he goaded, daring him.

Roy fell silent as he and Edward glared at one another in a standoff.

“Think of our children, Roy,” she commanded, trying another way to get through to him. It had worked before so she hoped it would again. Although Riza tried to keep her voice strong, one mention of them almost broke her. Her voice cracked and she was almost pleading with him as she spoke his name. “Remember what you said to me when we discussed this before. Don’t give into this,” she begged. “Remember that you’re letting go for them, as well as yourself.”

“What would Mia ask you to do?” Edward’s voice rang out in the tunnel, adding onto her point.

Roy’s shoulders stiffened and she heard him inhale sharply. “Stay out of this, Fullmetal,” he warned harshly.

“What would Maes ask, huh?” Edward continued on as if he hadn’t heard Roy speak. “What would those kids say to finding out their father gave into anger and hate and killed this homunculus!” Edward was spitting angry, furious that Roy was even considering such an act, but was desperate to get through to him as well. Riza could see it in his eyes. There was fear in them too. “If it were me I certainly wouldn’t want to look at you again!” Edward yelled. “You look like a monster!”

“I know I have no right to tell you what to do, Mustang, but they are correct.” Scar’s deep and calm timbre rolled through the air, settling over Riza, and making her loose another breath from her lungs. Hope swelled within her that maybe the three of them would be able to get through to him together. “You’re a father and you need to set an example. Do not cause any more death than you already have. End this cycle of hatred,” Scar snarled, “do it now. Break the chain. Otherwise you’re no better than a beast and those that have come before you. And I shudder to think what kind of world you will create after you become its ruler with all of that hatred burning inside of you. I dread to think what kind of father you will be.”

Roy’s body stiffened.

“Roy.” She brought his attention back to her. “This is not who you are.” Her voice was controlled as she steadied her weapon. She knew the Roy she loved was still within him but was buried underneath the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within. He had to be. Riza wouldn’t accept anything otherwise. 

His shoulders tensed. “Riza… I did it,” he growled. “I finally ran them down and they’re right there. They attacked you –”

“I understand that,” she barked harshly. “I know you did, and I know what happened, but you’re about to do something you’ll regret here and I won’t let you. You’re better than this. I know you’re better. I know the man I love, and he’s not here right now.”

His shoulders jerked up towards his ears.

“This course of action benefits no one. All it will do is hurt the ones you love.” Riza took a deep breath. “This is pure hatred. And I will not let it take you. I already told you that. I already promised I wouldn’t let you do it!” Her cry rang out in the silent hallway.

He was struggling, teetering on the edge, but he was listening to her.

“Would you really shoot me with that gun, Riza?”

Her breath caught tightly in her throat, choking her. What… What was he asking her?

His tone changed completely, along with his body language. His shoulders relaxed and he let out a long breath. He sounded calmer, that edge to his voice gone. He almost sounded defeated.

He still didn't let go of the transmutation though.

“If you’re going to shoot me, shoot me.” 

It was just a threat, really. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to kill her husband if he actually went through with this. She was no soldier, had taken no human life, and Riza wasn’t sure if she was emotionally stable enough to hit her target regardless of that.

But would she be able to live on with him, knowing that he’d become the monster he didn’t want to be, but had sought out that path anyway?

“Maybe not,” she admitted quietly.

She’d only been able to target Envy because she knew they wouldn’t die. That first pull of the trigger though… It was jarring, horrifying. When she’d fired a gun before it had been for food, for survival. This fight was a way to try and keep her alive, but she gained nothing from each hit. Just the sickening realisation that she was harming another living thing and gaining nothing from it.

“Maybe I can’t pull that trigger on you.” Despite the turmoil rattling her bones her voice held steady. Sorrow bled into her tone, shoulders dipping as her resolve to point the weapon at him wavered. “I couldn’t do that to you. Couldn’t do that to our children either,” she added, bile rising at the thought of taking their father away from them, regardless of their current conversation.

Memories flashed inside her mind. Roy lifted Mia high in the air, spinning her round as she giggled with glee. Maes’ happy squeals filled the room as Roy blew raspberries on their little boy’s arms, tickling him. Hayate barked happily in their garden as she, Roy, and Mia chased each other in a game of tag on the grass. Little Maes clapped his hands happily as he watched, sitting on Chris’ lap.

Riza clenched her jaw to stave off the sudden tears and keep a hold on her emotions. She wanted that Roy back. She just wanted her husband back.

“But I’m doing what you asked me to do,” Riza replied with more confidence this time. “I’m watching your back. You told me you didn’t want to be a monster again. Don’t give into it. Mia wouldn’t want you too.” Her voice wavered. She cleared her throat to try and shift the lump in it, but it was futile. “Little Maes wouldn’t want you to either. Neither would Big Maes.”

Roy’s head jerked suddenly, no doubt remembering their conversation in the dark in their bed. He’d held her close that night. She remembered pressing a kiss against his throat, feeling his pulse thrum beneath her lips.

“I…” The words stuck in her throat, halting her. They needed to be said because they were true, no matter how much it hurt to think about. She needed to get through to him and the hope that she could was dwindling second by second. “I don’t think I will be able to live on with you if you do go down this path.”

Roy flinched violently.

“I can’t follow you down it. Our family can’t. And I refuse to leave our children behind.”

He let out a choked breath. Suddenly, Roy’s hand jerked out and with a yell, the fire torpedoed down an empty hallway, filling it with heat and his anguish.

He didn’t do it.

Riza had never felt such strong relief in her life. A choked breath left her lungs, stuttering as it passed by her lips. Her knees shook and her pistol trembled in her hand. She almost lost her grip on it.

“I… I can’t afford to lose you. Or them. This madness… Scolded by a child and a man who was once my enemy.”

Roy turned to face her and Riza felt hope blossom tentatively at the look in his eyes. All his hatred was gone. A deep exhaustion had settled over his bones and it showed clearly in his expression. The features of his face drooped, eyes filled with so much regret and agony that Riza almost lost her breath. He was broken, defeated by himself, but he was Roy.

“And you.”

Tears flooded his eyes. Roy’s touch was gentle when it rested upon her gun. His hands were bare, gloves gone. Riza was unsure when that had happened, but it didn’t matter. The fact remained that he’d unequipped his weapon and taken that step away from where he was threatening to fall over the edge.

Riza watched completely mute as they both lowered the gun to her side slowly.

“It almost cost me you. I forced you to go through all of this. I pushed you away. My love,” he breathed, so quietly only she would hear. “My children. I would have lost it all.” Roy cleared his throat, dropping his gaze in shame. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispered. “I did it again. I’m such a fool,” he cursed in disgust, dropping his gaze. He turned to the side as his knees shook. He fell to the ground, finally spent, with his face hidden by his hands.

Relief made her body shudder and tremble. The pistol grew slack in Riza’s hand and dropped to the floor without her realising it. She joined him, kneeling by his side. Pain shot into her kneecaps after she fell, hitting the ground hard enough to make her wince. Her old injury with her fight with Envy flared up but Riza paid it no mind. All of her attention was focussed on the side of her husband’s head. She stared, knowing she wouldn’t be able to discern anything from it, but still looked upon those dark strands as if they would give her all the answers she sought.

Tentatively, Riza reached out. Her hand hovered before the space in between his shoulder blades. It was an action she’d done numerous times when helping him through his low points. She wasn’t sure what his mental state was. She had no way of knowing until she took the first step and made contact. Her fingertips pressed down first, lightly, before the heel of her hand kissed against his back. She watched, saddened, as his shoulders bunched up further at his ears, head dipping down. He was hiding from her.

“Roy?” Her call was apprehensive. She just wanted him to turn and look at her, give her something to go on. But he didn’t.

Shifting on her knees, Riza angled herself around him so she was kneeling by his side. Her hand naturally moved to come to rest on his shoulder. She gave it a squeeze of comfort and encouragement.

“Roy, look at me,” she prompted gently.

Unable to bring himself to, his gaze remained on his feet which were crumpled underneath his body at odd angles.

“Roy.”

It was just enough coaxing. The hand that covered his eyes moved a fraction. His eyes were desolate once they made contact and barely visible as he peeked up at her through a gap, filled with shame and sorrow. 

“You didn’t do it,” she reminded him.

“I was close.” His voice was a whisper, only loud enough to reach her ears. “I - I saw you being hurt… And thought about what had happened to Hughes and –” His sigh made his whole body shudder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in a hoarse voice.

Riza gathered him close, placing her cheek against the top of his head. Her arms wrapped around his shaking frame, bringing his face against her chest to hide him from the rest of them. Just for a moment, she wanted it to be just them, to have a tiny moment to themselves so she could get him back on his feet.

“You’re all right for now. You came back to me,” she whispered into his hair, focussing on that fact at the moment. The day was not over so everything else could be left until later when they were alone.

Slowly, hands lifted to her hips and held on. His fingers dug into her sides almost painfully. Then, the arms wrapped around, squeezing her against him. Her fingers ran through his hair as relief made them shake, thankful that for now, the worst of the confrontation was over.

[swearingintengwar]

@sortinghatchats: Bokurano Edition

It’s no secret that I’m more or less obsessed with Bokurano, and that I absolutely love @sortinghatchats​‘s work. So, finally, I’m going to combine the two and sort the fifteen pilots! I’m using @wisteria-lodge​‘s animal terminology and including both burnt and exploded houses. There’s probably mistakes in here since I’m a very new sorter, so don’t expect the work of a veteran here. I’m just doing this because I love sorting and Bokurano’s a good show. Also, there will be SPOILERS under the readmore, as well as the usual content warnings for Bokurano: a lot of child death, plus brief mentions of rape, suicide, and familial abuse. (Let me know if I missed something!)

It’s no secret that Takashi Waku is a Lion secondary. He’s a shounen protagonist. ‘Nuff said. His primary is a little harder to pin down - for a while I was torn between Badger and Lion, but I’m going to go with Badger. While there’s some traces of a glory hound Lion’s “this is gonna be awesome” attitude in him, on the whole he’s driven by the Badger thought process of “the world needs a savior, and, well, I’m the one with the fucknormous robot”.

Masaru Kodama is as exploded Bird primary as they come. He’s organized his life around a strict and unhealthy set of principles, survival of the fittest taken to an extreme, and his wealthy, sheltered upbringing gave him the echo chamber characteristic of exploded Birds. Within the confines of that system, though, he’s a Snake secondary who lives by his whims. Stealing Kokopelli’s glasses, being an ass to the neighborhood cats, going on a rampage through the city - he does things because he feels like it.

Isao Kako’s houses are a perfect storm of tragedy. He’s a very young Bird primary, still working out his system and looking for guidance anywhere he can find it. Even if it’s obviously bad guidance like Dung Beetle’s suggestion to go rape Chizu, he’ll listen to it. The boy’s about to die. His world’s been turned upside down. He’ll grab on to any anchor he can find at this point. His exploded Lion secondary turns those ill-advised ideas into equally ill-advised actions that he throws himself into utterly - Chizu had to kill him to get him off her back.

Speaking of Chizuru Honda, I’m usually not the best at spotting models, but she’s definitely got one. Specifically, she’s a Snake primary modeling exploded Lion. She’s obsessed with a cause - namely, kicking Hatagai’s ass - but not for its own sake. She rages against him because he hurt someone she loves. While she thought their affair was between the two of them, she was willing to forgive him, but when he dragged her sister into it, that was the last straw. Her secondary’s hard to pin down, but I’m guessing a burnt Bird. As a young child, she seemed to appreciate knowledge, but at the time of the series, Hatagai’s betrayal has ripped out her moorings, and she’ll do whatever it takes to make him regret his actions.

Daichi Yamura is also a Snake primary, though if he has a model I can’t see it. More than anything else, Daichi loves his family, and would do anything for them. His secondary seems to be Badger. He’s hardworking, diligent, and finds fulfillment as a provider for his siblings.

Mako Nakarai was easy to pin down as a Badger secondary. She’s studious and hardworking, and loves to work with her hands - all classic Badger secondary traits. Her primary was harder for me to figure out, but Snake seems likely, since deep down she just wants to be loved.

Kunihiko Moji is yet another Snake Badger. He’s devoted to his childhood friends, who are like family to the orphan boy, and he’s very big on the principle that friends should be able to rely on each other. Add his dutiful and reliable personality and he’s a textbook example of his sort.

Maki Ano is definitely a loyalist primary, and I’m leaning towards Badger. She loves her family, she loves her friends, she loves pretty much everyone except Jun (whose treatment of Kana infuriates her) and Dung Beetle (who’s… Dung Beetle). What really solidified her as a Badger primary for me, though, was the very end of her battle, where she opens up the enemy robot’s cockpit, acknowledging the humanity of the people she’s about to kill. Secondary-wise, she has the boisterous determination of a Lion.

Yousuke Kirie was hard for me to figure out, but in hindsight, it seems pretty obvious that he’s a Snake primary who’s just starting to explode. His family is everything to him, and while he’s not outright hostile to others, even friendly (if a bit reserved) towards the other pilots, he’s more than willing to sit idly by while the universe is destroyed if he doesn’t like the way it’s been treating his mom. I ended up having to guess his secondary, but I’ve got a hunch he’s a Bird.

Aiko Tokosumi had me stumped for quite a while, but I think she’s a double Lion. The scene where she lashes out at Yoko for her betrayal gives me Lion primary vibes. Her secondary’s a little easier to pin down as Lion - she exhorts and inspires, drawing on an indomitable Leonine spirit to lift up the ones she loves. She sings, she encourages her friends, she talks her mom out of a mental breakdown. If Lion is the shounen protagonist secondary, Anko’s got the motivational speeches down pat.

Takami Komoda is a pretty clear Bird secondary - proper, patient, doing things the “right” way. I struggled with her primary for a while, but given the sheer amount of strength she draws from her father’s love, I’m thinking Snake. (Bokurano seems to have a lot of Snake primaries whose circles are their families!)

I didn’t get a very good handle on Kanji Yoshikawa, but the sheer amount of scheming he does points me towards a Bird secondary. I’m even less sure of his primary, but that gives me Bird vibes too.

Yoko Machi is so badly burnt I struggled with her sorting for a while, but I eventually pinned down her primary as burnt Lion. Yoko’s a seeker of justice forced into a fundamentally unjust role, and when she comes clean, her Leonine code of honor shines through. (Killing your own brother in retribution for his transgressions would normally point me towards exploded Lion, but let’s be real here, Dung Beetle deserved it.) Her secondary, however, is burnt beyond recognition. With how much she’s suffered, and how little time passed between her redemption and her death, there’s not really much to go on here.

Jun Ushiro-Tanaka. He’s probably my favorite pilot, but more to the point, he’s a textbook burnt Snake primary, an asshole because he doesn’t know what else to be. In the later part of the show he gradually unburns, first taking a few tentative steps outside his little circle of one when he visits Kirie, and ultimately letting his family and Yoko into his heart shortly before his death, until he finally gives his life without hesitation for the sister he once abused. I had trouble with his secondary at first, but I’ve pinned it down as a burnt Badger. For most of the show he’s pretty listless, but when he’s healing in the last days of his life, the thing he does that stuck out to me most was helping Kana and her friends build a treehouse. Helping others. Working with his hands. Badger things.

I think the onion ninjas are lurking around here somewhere.

Finally, Kana Ushiro is, like her brother, an unhealthy loyalist primary, but she’s the opposite unhealthy loyalist primary to him, an exploded Badger. Could the girl with the martyr complex the size of about three Zearths be anything else? She also shares Jun’s Badger secondary, but hers is healthier. She’s comfortable in the domestic role she’s taken on, patiently caring for her brother no matter how strained their relationship may be, and in the epilogue she tenderly cradles a wounded bird as she comforts the Yamura siblings, showing them that their lost brother was a true hero.

[teacupfulofstarshine]

the crossroad of our destinies book one: earth

summary: virgil isn't sure how he got roped into this crazy adventure. somehow, he's traveling around with the avatar, his blind earth bending younger brother, a chipper air bender, and a banished fire bender prince, and they're supposed to save the world? virgil can't even tell them he's a water bender. he's not cut out to save anyone. little did he know, they're cut out to save each other - and maybe the whole world in the process. 

(OR: an avatar the last airbender!au, centering around a water bender virgil)

a/n: i . . . wrote the entire first chapter in one day . . . how i still do not know . . . the confusion is real. huge, huge, HUGE amounts of thanks goes to @lovelylogans for cheerleading me through this and also beta reading the first chapter. this wouldn't exist without her, and i love her, and i am so eternally grateful 

CW: atla-typical fantasy violence, brief nonspecific allusions to child abuse, angst, background death of minor unnamed OCs, family angst, mentions of burns

wordcount: 5882

read it on ao3! 

“This is gonna be so interesting!” Patton says, draping himself on his belly over the ball of air beneath him. “I’ve never seen real earth bending before!”

“That would imply that there’s such a thing as fake earth bending, which there decidedly is not,” Logan says, adjusting his shirt with a huff. Virgil glances up from where he’s sharpening his knife next to the fire, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’ve done all kinds of reading about earth bending!” Patton says, seemingly oblivious to Logan’s indignation. “There are scrolls about it all over the Air Nation temples, but I’ve obviously never seen one! Earth benders went extinct so long ago that -”

“What?” Thomas says, lifting his head to stare up at Patton. 

“The Fire Nation desecration reaches beyond our home?” Logan asks, one hand curling into a fist at his side. “They have burned more villages to the ground than ours?” 

Roman pokes at the campfire with a stick, keeping his eyes cast to the ground. “The Fire Nation is trying to wipe out all other benders. They don’t want anyone left but us. Why do you think I ran away from home? My father told me that the other nations attacked us first, but . . .” 

“Falsehood,” Logan snaps. The earth begins to shake beneath him. “We would never do something so horrendous! The Earth Kingdom is a peaceful settlement, we - we would never -”

“Calm down, Rocky, I’m not accusing you,” Roman says. The campfire flares up, and Virgil’s eyes flicker to the waterskin at his side. His hands won’t move fast enough if Roman’s temper causes him to lose control. Something else might, but he refuses. “I’m just saying, there’s a lot of propaganda in the Fire Nation. We’re not all heartless evil bastards. Some of us are just trying to protect our homes. I abandoned a lot when I saved you and your brother from my father’s army.”

“Oh, yes, like what?” Logan snaps. “Like a cushy life in the palace? Like your status as the next in line for overlord of us all and destroyer of my people? Like -”

“Like my twin brother,” Roman says coolly, tone betraying the way the fire surges and sinks in time with his heavy breathing. “Like my best friend, the boy I was to marry. I loved him so much, and he helped me escape, and - and my father probably killed him for his insubordination. I’ll never see him again, and whose fault is that? Mine!” 

The fire surges up in a pillar. Before anyone can react in a meaningful way, a vortex spirals to life around the flames. In a flash, all the oxygen is sucked out of the fire. It dies instantly, leaving a pile of half-charred twigs. Patton lets his bending stance drop, and the vortex falls away. 

“Everyone,” he says quietly, “needs to take some deep breaths. It’s going to be okay. Everyone here has suffered at the hands of the Fire Nation. Everyone here has lost something. It’s okay to acknowledge that pain, and hurt, but it’s not okay to blame each other or ourselves. Roman, you can’t control what your father did to you any more than Thomas and Logan can control the fact that they’re earth benders.” 

“I am an earth bender,” Logan says quietly. “Thomas is -”

“The Avatar,” Thomas says. He studies his hands in silence, and Virgil slides his knife into his boot. 

“Yeah, well, Avatar or not, you were born an earth bender,” he says. Everyone looks at him in a surprise that he mirrors internally; he’s not really one for speaking up during moments like this. There have been plenty since they all started traveling together, but Virgil typically keeps his mouth shut. 

“What?” Thomas asks. Logan turns his head towards Virgil’s voice. His unseeing eyes bore right through Virgil, as though they’re peering into his soul. 

“You were born an earth bender,” Virgil repeats. “That’s the whole damn point of the Avatar cycle, isn’t it? The Avatar spirit gets cycled through all the nations so that each Avatar gets a new and different experience to the one before. No matter what anyone says, you’re an earth bender. Just ‘cause you’re the Avatar too, that doesn’t change your birthright.”

His voice slips away from him, falling into the familiar cadence of his grandmother telling him stories as a young child. “You are an earth bender. You were born with the pull of Mother Earth in your bones. The Lion-Turtles have gifted you with an awareness of what is beneath us, always, a firm and unyielding constant in a world too fluid to appreciate it. You must hold steadfast to what is right and true, because no one else will do it for you. Air, flighty and fluid; fire, scorching and shifting; water, rapid and raging; all these will move from one form to the next as it suits their needs. You must anchor them, or no one will.” 

He blinks, snapping himself out of the strange trance he lulled himself into, and becomes aware of the other three staring at him. “What?” he snaps defensively. 

“That was . . . something,” Thomas says. “Where’d you get a story like that?”

“My grandmother,” Virgil says, pulling a knife from inside his robe. He makes sure that everyone catches the sharpness of its edge glinting under the half-full moon before he goes back to sharpening it. “She would tell me stories of the other benders all the time, how every element has its strengths and drawbacks. She told me that every element plays a role in keeping the world balanced, and that someone would have to repair what the Fire Nation was breaking without destroying the Fire Nation in the process.”

“And why not?” Logan asks - not accusing, genuinely curious. He shifts one foot a couple of inches and a rock springs from the ground next to Thomas, allowing Logan to sit down. 

“Because if we lose fire benders completely, we lose everything we worked to rebuild. We need harmony between all four elements. That includes Princey and his fire bending.” 

Roman thrusts a fist forward, and the campfire reignites itself as a small fireball bursts from his fist. “Thanks, Waterboy.” Virgil flinches a little. “What? You’re from the Southern Water Tribe, aren’t you?”

“What? Yeah. What about it?” 

Roman just shrugs and goes back to the campfire. 

*~*~*~*~*

Logan is amazing at earth bending. 

Granted, Virgil knows next to nothing about the techniques, other than the fact that they involve a lot of foot movements and heavy grounding. It seems to be the complete antithesis of Patton’s air bending and Roman’s fire bending, both of which appear to center heavily on movement. Still, it’s plain to see that Logan is something of a prodigy. He moves as though the earth he bends is an extension of his own body, controlling it with an easy, fluid grace that belies his solid stances. 

It’s hard to believe, watching him, that he’s the younger brother. It’s hard to believe that he can’t see anything. Roman comments as much, and Logan sends him flying with a blunted earth spike without so much as turning to face him. 

“Ow!” Roman shrieks. He’s unharmed, of course; Patton had swiftly leapt into the air to catch him and return him to the ground. “What was that for?” 

“I can so see,” Logan retorts. He barely comes up to Roman’s shoulder, but he’s solidly built, despite his young age. 

“I thought you were blind!” 

“I am. My eyes have never seen a day of my life. That does not mean I cannot see, you moron. I simply do not see with my eyes. I use my feet to see. The ground tells me everything I need to know. You, for example, are currently clinging to Patton like a terrified lemur, and he is hovering approximately as far above the ground as my forearm is long.” 

“How do you do that?!” Roman says, dropping from Patton’s arms to land on the ground. “Also, there’s no way that you’re strong enough to take me down.” 

“And why not?” Logan asks. “I could so take you down.” 

“This is a bad idea,” Virgil says. 

“You could not!” Roman boasts. 

“This is a bad idea,” Virgil repeats. 

“That sounds like a challenge,” Logan says, turning in Roman’s direction and tilting his head in a clear act of dismissal. “Unless you are afraid to face a young, blind earth bender, Prince Roman?”

Roman’s face changes from pride to ice in a split-second. He’ll tolerate Virgil’s “Princey” jabs, but he hates being called by his proper title. “You’re on.”

“Not here!” Thomas yelps. “We are standing in a very flammable forest, and none of us can water bend!” 

“Aren’t you the Avatar, master of all elements?” Roman says testily.

“Only in the Avatar state, at the moment, which I cannot trigger on my own! If you guys set the whole forest on fire, people will come and investigate! We can’t risk being found - I can’t risk being found!” 

The sound of his older brother’s voice seems to snap Logan out of it, at the very least. He shifts his left foot, and Virgil shivers as a small earthquake rumbles through the ground. It’s low-scale enough that anyone else who notices it will pass it off as normal seismic activity. For their little group, however, it’s much more than that; it’s Logan checking the nearby terrain. 

If that isn’t enough to terrify Roman into surrender, Virgil seriously worries about the state of his brain. 

“There is an isolated rocky plain not far from here,” Logan says. “I suggest that we have our battle there. Will tomorrow suffice?”

“Fine by me,” Roman spits, stalking away. Patton drops to the ground and begins to croon to his giant sky bison Remy, stroking his nose. Remy huffs out a breath that rustles the trees around them. Virgil is inclined to agree. 

*~*~*~*~*

“I have said it before, and I will say it again. This is a BAD idea.” 

Virgil tugs his thick jacket on over his loose tunic and pants. Logan sits next to him, controlling a small mound of earth like it’s wet clay. With every shift of his perpetually-bare feet, he changes its shape. 

“I will not be injured,” Logan says. “Roman will not intentionally injure me. He considers me an opponent beneath him, and he is too gallant to harm a child.” 

“How old are you, anyway? Not judging or anything, I’m just . . . curious.” 

Logan’s earth mound trembles. “I am . . . twelve years and six months old.” 

Virgil just blinks at him. He’d thought that Patton, newly fourteen, was the youngest member of their crew; he and Roman are both sixteen, and Thomas is seventeen. He’s assumed this whole time that Logan is around Patton’s age, maybe a few months older, despite his slight stature. “That’s . . . younger than I was expecting.” 

“Are you going to remove me from your expedition?” Logan challenges. He clenches his fist, and the earth mound shatters into dust. “I will not abandon Thomas. He is my brother, the only remnant I have of my family. Of my village, my people, my culture. He is everything to me. I will not return to an ashen husk of my home because you do not consider me mature enough for this journey.” 

“You’re the most mature person here, and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot,” Virgil says, holding up his hands in an “I-mean-no-harm” gesture. He says it because it’s true, because he believes it, but he also says it because he can see the way the earth trembles below Logan. It reminds him of the sea, in a way - calm and quiet, but constantly roiling beneath the glassy surface. 

Logan takes a deep breath, air in and out, and the earth calms to stillness on his exhale. 

“Thank you, Virgil.”

“You’re welcome. Now that the mushy shit’s out of the way - this is a terrible idea and you shouldn’t fight Roman. Not because you’re young or weak or anything like that, but because if one of you gets seriously injured, it’s not like we can waltz into the nearest village and ask for help.” 

Logan shakes his head, smiling. He looks much older than twelve and a half. 

“Trust me, Virgil. This will not be much of a fight.” 

*~*~*~*~*

“If I could talk him out of this, I would,” Thomas tells Virgil. They’re sitting on a tall mound of earth that Thomas had bended up from the plain. Patton hovers casually behind them, sitting cross-legged on a ball of air. Logan and Roman stand facing each other, arms at their sides. 

“The duel will end when one of the participants is unable to bend, or when one participant cedes to the other,” Virgil announces. He’s still not sure how he got roped into refereeing this crazy death match. Patton bends the wind so that his voice carries down to Logan and Roman, but he doesn’t have to. It’s so silent that Virgil could hear for miles. “No attacks shall be permitted which may result in death or grievous bodily harm. Are these rules understood by the participants?” 

“They are,” Roman says. They’re different than the rules to a Fire Nation duel, Virgil thinks, judging by the slight confusion that crosses Roman’s face before he settles back to cool indifference. 

“They are,” Logan says. He and Roman are an arm’s-length apart. 

“Bow!” Virgil calls. Logan and Roman each take a step backward and bow from the waist, a sign of respect between duel participants. Despite their bickering, they do respect each other. (Virgil thinks.) 

“Turn and walk! Ten or fifteen paces!” The traditional standard is ten paces, but Logan’s legs are much shorter than Roman’s, so he has to walk fifteen paces to cross the same amount of ground that Roman does in ten. They turn around and walk, and once they’ve made it the designated distance they turn back to each other. 

“Ready your bending stances!” Roman squares his shoulders and lifts his hands, curling them into fists. Logan spreads his feet apart, planting them shoulder-width apart. Virgil raises a hand up high, bringing it down sharply to connect with his palm like a knife slicing through a fresh kill. 

“Begin!” 

Roman immediately launches a huge fireball at Logan. It’s red, the lowest intensity Roman is capable of producing. Virgil laughs internally; Logan was right. Roman is holding back. Thomas makes a worried noise, but Logan is unaffected. He shifts one foot, thrusts his hands out and flicks them up, and suddenly a massive wall of earth rises in front of him. Roman’s fireball slams harmlessly into it, singing the upper layer of dust but otherwise having no effect. 

“I knew you would temper your attacks for me!” Logan shouts, dropping his wall. “If that had been your usual strength, my wall would have disintegrated!” 

“And you took that risk?!” Roman says. 

“Because I knew you would go easy on me! That is not the point of this duel, Roman! Fight me like you mean it!” Logan stamps his foot, and two massive pillars of earth rise up beside him, one on either side. Another stamp, and the pillars segment into disks. Logan begins to move, still between the pillars as he hurls the disks of earth at Roman. 

Roman dodges the first few disks easily, but Logan is relentless. For every few disks he throws, he stamps his food again, and the pillars rise up again. He draws more and more earth up from beneath him, and it’s all Roman can do to keep himself from being crushed. 

“Are you trying to kill me?!” 

“I thought you were a prince! You should be stronger than this!” 

Roman stands perfectly still, and Logan sends a disk hurtling towards him. Roman screams and throws his hands forwards, and a massive burst of golden-orange fire roars out. It engulfs the disk, pushing it backwards and melting it. Molten rock splashes to the ground, and Roman runs forward. He has twin flames clenched in his fists, like knives, and Logan grins wildly. 

“Finally!” 

The ground grows soft beneath his feet. Roman yells, thrusts a fire-knife forward like he’s going to stab Logan in the head, and Logan vanishes. He drops down, sinking below the earth, and Roman whirls around, confused. The pillars sink down into the ground, and Roman growls. 

“Get up here and fight like a man!” 

The ground rumbles beneath him, almost like Logan is laughing, and then a pillar of earth bursts up beneath Roman and sends him flying into the air. As he falls, another pillar flies up, smashing into him, and then another and another and another. Roman is knocked around like a ragdoll; he fire bends in the air, hurling jets of flame at the earth, but Logan is apparently so far underground that he is unaffected. 

Finally, he slams onto the earth, flat on his back. Logan pops up from underground, covered in a layer of dust, breathing heavily. He takes a single step towards Roman and collapses. 

“Logan!” Thomas shouts. Roman pushes himself to sit up, placing a hand along Logan’s neck. The earth bender doesn’t stir. Roman says something, but it’s inaudible. “Patton, please!” 

“On it,” Patton says, bending Roman’s words toward them. 

“He’s alive,” Roman rasps in their ears. Thomas stands, slamming his foot into the ground, and a curved chute carves itself into their observation mound. Another stamp, and a flat piece of earth appears at the mouth of the chute. Thomas leaps onto it and begins to surf down towards Roman and Logan. 

“A little help?” Virgil asks Patton dryly. Patton offers his hand, pulling Virgil up into his arms, and then they’re flying.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan sleeps for about six hours before sitting up, rubbing at his eyes. “What hit me?” he groans. “Did I lose the duel?”

“You both lost, morons,” Virgil says shortly. 

“You and I are the only ones here - no, wait, someone else is laying by the fire. Roman?” 

“Yeah. He’s sleeping off what you two did to each other. Patton and Thomas are off by the river getting water, because if I have to watch Thomas mother-hen over you two anymore I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.” He stabs angrily at the fire. “You over-exerted yourself with that crazy tunneling move.” 

“I . . . have never tried it on that large a scale before,” Logan admits, shakily sitting up. “Even now, my bending feels . . . exhausted. My vision is foggy. I - for the first time since I learned to bend, I feel truly blind.” He sounds like a scared kid, and it’s enough to evaporate what’s left of Virgil’s anger. 

“Hey, you’re alright,” he says gruffly. “No one’s dead, and you two hopefully have a better understanding of each other’s power now, right?” Logan nods, silent. “Good. Just know that if you ever scare your brother and Patton -” ( and me, he doesn’t say) “- again, I’ll drown you in the fucking river.” 

Logan cracks a smile at that, and it doesn’t fade, even when Thomas returns from the river and practically tackles him into a tearful hug.

*~*~*~*~*

Sometimes, Virgil has regrets. 

Remy coasts through the sky, Patton seated on his head with a loose grip on the reins. Logan, Thomas, and Roman all huddle together, Roman in the middle so that his warmth exudes out to encompass them like a bubble. Virgil is starfished on his back, staring up at the sky. It’s so different to the one that he’s used to seeing over the Southern Pole. 

He misses home. 

He misses the familiar sting of ice and snow against his skin. He misses the scent of seal jerky drying out next to the campfires. He misses packing down the firm snow to create walls for the igloo, misses hunting with his friends and family. 

He misses bending. 

The Fire Nation thinks that they have eradicated water benders from the Southern Pole. They believe that Virgil’s father, whom they cruelly killed on their last raid, was the final water bender. 

They think incorrectly. 

Virgil’s father sacrificed himself to save his son. The pendant Virgil wears around his neck, carved from the rib bone of an ancient and mighty Lion-Turtle, was the only thing he was allowed to keep when his father’s body was prepared for burial. His mother gave it to his father when they were married. She died bringing him into the world, and the Fire Nation made him an orphan. 

“Virgil?” Thomas asks, shifting on Roman’s chest. “Are you okay?” 

Virgil exhales, rolling over so that he’s facing his sleepy friends. “Yeah, Thomas, I’m okay. Just homesick, you know?” 

“I get that,” Thomas says. He reaches over and gently touches his sleeping brother. “At least I have Lo with me, to remind me of home. You don’t even have that. I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Virgil says easily. “It’s not like I have a family to go back to, anyway.”

A sad look crosses Thomas’s face, but he doesn’t push. Virgil can’t decide if he’s grateful or disappointed. 

*~*~*~*~*

It’s amusing to watch Logan drill Thomas in earth bending. Every time Thomas messes up, Logan throws a pebble at him, and not with his earth bending, either. He will literally pick up the nearest chunk of rock and throw it at Thomas. He hits him in the arm without fail. 

Virgil snickers from where he’s darning a tear in his pants. He has a bone needle in his pack, and it doesn’t take a lot of skill to find plants that he can twist into sturdy fiber thread. He’s already got a pretty sizable ball of thread rolled up beside him. 

“You can sew?” Roman asks. 

Virgil flinches at the sudden noise, nearly pricking his finger with the needle. “Don’t scare a guy like that, Princey!” 

An upset expression crosses Roman’s face, but he brushes it off. “Still!”

“Yeah, I can sew. In the Water Tribe, you have to learn to do stuff for yourself.” Especially when the Fire Nation kills your parents, he doesn’t say. 

Roman bounces eagerly. “Do you think you could teach me to do that?”

“Why the hell do you wanna know how to sew?”

“If something rips, I have to be able to fix it myself,” Roman says firmly. “Teach me, please?” 

Virgil sighs. “I only have one needle, so you have to wait until I’m done with this actual work before I start teaching you. You will prick your fingers a lot, and you are not allowed to bitch at me for this. You brought this upon yourself.” 

Roman just grins, sharp and wild. It’s the grin of a Fire Nation child, and it should strike terror into Virgil’s heart. He’s almost more terrified by the fact that it doesn’t.

*~*~*~*~*

Virgil quietly creeps away, after ensuring that everyone else is soundly asleep. They’re fortunate enough to have camped near a river this time, despite the fact that they’re still in the middle of the woods as they travel. What their endgame is, Virgil doesn’t know. For now, they’re just traveling so that the Fire Nation doesn’t catch them off guard, complacent in one place. 

He steps into the river, and the feeling of water around his ankles is soothing. “Hello,” he breathes. 

Virgil knows that his father wasn’t a water bender. He doesn’t think his mother was a water bender, either, although it’s impossible to say. The pendant that she gave his father was carved by water bending, tiny thin streams of water manipulated skillfully along the surface until they etched grooves. It doesn’t make sense that she would have trusted its creation to someone else, but if she had no choice . . .

Despite his insecurities, being in the water always makes him feel closer to both of them. 

He slowly lifts a hand, and a stream of water coils up to meet him. It wraps around his wrist, like a vine, like a friend, coiling up towards his neck. Virgil exhales, tips backwards, and lets himself fall into the water. He moves his hands as he falls, bending the river water so that it flows around his head. The water rushes through his ears, and Virgil is at peace. 

He stares up at the full moon, pretending he can see his father’s smile staring back at him in the craters on its surface.

*~*~*~*~*

“There are spirits in this place,” Thomas says. His eyes aren’t glowing the way they do when the Avatar State overtakes him, but there is an unnatural shine to his irises. “They are here, and they are angry.”

“Why?” the village leader asks. Thomas turns his head towards the village leader’s young daughter, sees the way she cowers away from her father. Virgil doesn’t have whatever supernatural perception Thomas does, but he doesn’t need Avatar State eyes (or whatever the fuck is going on) to see the bruises that litter her arms under her tight sleeves. 

Thomas takes a step forward. The earth shakes beneath him. Logan shifts to a bending stance in a single breath, but Thomas puts a hand out to stop him. Ice-blue wisps of fog coil up around him, and Virgil takes a step backwards as a massive spirit-dragon appears in the village square. 

“They are angry,” Thomas repeats, and his voice reverberates with a power well beyond his years.  

Yeah. Virgil’s pretty angry, too.

*~*~*~*~*

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Logan comments idly, as they fly away from the village. He’s holding tightly to his brother; without the ground to, well, ground him, he tends to cling to Thomas. “With the spirits.” 

“You could sense them?”

“Not with my earth bending. They’re not solid. But I could feel them. I knew they were there, and . . . and once you spoke, I knew they were angry.” 

“No child should be hurt,” Roman says darkly. He’s slumped over the side of the saddle, watching the ground pass by below him. “No - no child. No child should be hurt.” 

Patton is silent, clutching Remy’s reins with white knuckles. He’s been silent since they left, but Virgil is too attentive to miss the tears streaming down his face. They’d saved the day, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a pit in all their stomachs.

*~*~*~*~*

When the Fire Nation soldier bursts through the bushes, everyone moves in an instant. 

Patton and Logan spring in front of Thomas immediately; Logan is in an earth bending stance and Patton has wind spiraling around his fingertips. Virgil draws a knife from his sleeves and grips it tightly. The soldier looks to be in his mid-sixties or so, with gray-white hair pulled back in a topknot and a beard flowing down his front. He has a round potbelly, but there is something sharp and militant in his eyes. 

Roman is the only one who hasn’t moved. “U - uncle?!” 

Everyone stops and stares at him. “Uncle?” Patton echoes. The Fire Nation soldier blinks at Roman, and his entire face softens. 

“My beloved nephew.” 

Roman throws himself at the strange soldier, and the soldier catches him, hugging him and holding him close. “Uncle! Uncle, you - what happened?! After I left, Remus, Dee - what happened to them?!” 

“I will explain all in time,” the soldier (Uncle?) says. “But first, perhaps you should tell your new friends that I am not a threat before they kill me?” There’s a wry smile on his lips as he looks at them all, a bedraggled group of teenagers ready to fight and kill. 

Roman just hugs the strange man tighter, and Virgil sheaths the knife when he hears Roman’s muffled sobs. Despite their constant bickering, he knows that Roman really, truly does miss his home, and now he has a small piece of it back. Virgil imagines he’d react in a similar way if a member of his family showed up right now (even though he has no one to show up). He can’t begrudge Roman this little scrap of comfort.

*~*~*~*~*

The Fire Nation soldier is revealed to be Roman’s Uncle Emile, brother of the current Fire Lord. “My brother,” Emile says, stroking his beard slightly, “can only be described as . . . a little bitch.” 

“Remus,” Roman repeats, sitting next to his Uncle and gripping his hand. “My brother, Uncle, what happened to him? What happened to Dolos?” 

“Your father was furious at them for letting you and the young earth benders escape the capital,” Emile says. “He dared not wound Prince Remus, but Dolos is only a noble’s son. He was spared no such courtesy.” 

“Is he dead?” Roman whispers. He’s shaking; Virgil wonders if he should attempt to offer some sort of comfort. 

“He is not dead,” Emile says. “Your father challenged him to an Agni Kai - a traditional fire bending duel. Dolos barely fought back. He knelt, prostrated himself, begged for forgiveness. The Fire Lord did not grant it. The left side of his face and torso are badly burned. But he will survive.” 

Roman blinks, and tears pour down his face. 

“Your father banished him, and you as well,” Emile says. “Remus has been sent on a mission to capture the Avatar - to capture you.”

“Where is Dolos?” Roman rasps. 

“Remus insisted on taking him with him. He told your father that he would leave Dolos in an outlying colony somewhere, but he remains below deck on the ship. He is healing from his wounds. He will be scarred for life, but he will still have a life.” 

“I want to see them,” Roman says. 

Emile shakes his head. “Prince Roman, no. It is a bad idea.”

“Why?” 

“If you are spotted on board the Fire Nation ship, the crew will have no choice but to take you back to the Fire Nation as a prisoner. You are a fugitive. It cannot be risked.”

“I’ll risk my own safety if I damn well please!” Patton flinches at Roman’s shout, but Emile remains calm. 

“I will not risk your safety, Nephew. Will you risk the safety of your twin? Your betrothed? Your new friends?” 

Roman’s fire-angry glare shifts to them, to Virgil, who meets his eyes coolly even despite his terror. He won’t let Roman know that he’s afraid. He knows how much Roman hates it when they look at him as though he’s a fire bender to be afraid of. Roman exhales, and the campfire flares but he remains calm. 

“I . . . I won’t. But I miss them, Uncle.”

“I know you do,” Emile says. “My status as a disgraced general has finally come in handy, for I have been assigned as your brother’s advisor on this so-called fool’s errand. I will do my best to keep him safe and out of trouble.”

Roman fidgets with his hands. “Could . . . could I write them a letter?” 

Emile hums, considering. “I suppose that could be arranged.” 

Roman scribbles down two scrolls and passes them to his uncle. “Please take care of them for me, until - until I can come back and take care of them myself.” Emile nods, kissing his forehead. 

“I am proud of you, my nephew.” 

He disappears back through the bushes he came from, and Roman stares longingly after him. “Roman?” Patton asks. “Would - do you want a hug?” Roman stands stiff, back straight, shoulders pushed back. For a moment, he doesn’t look like their friend. He looks like a soldier. 

Then he turns around, and his eyes are wide and wet, and there’s snot dribbling down one corner of his face. “ Yeeeeeeeees,” he wails. Patton smiles, opens his arms, and lets Roman come crashing into them. 

*~*~*~*~*

Before they head out the next morning, a bird flutters down to land in front of Roman. He gasps when he realizes what it is, gathering the sharp-taloned bird into his arms and crooning over it. He showers its head in kisses. Virgil is lost. 

“This is Dragon! He was my pet back home, he’s a messenger hawk!” The bird chirps, nibbles on Roman’s ear lobe, and presents him with the parchment tied to his leg. Roman snatches the scroll, unrolling it eagerly, and Virgil peers over his shoulder. 

The upper half of the scroll is a near-illegible scrawl, with a splotched signature that Virgil can barely make out as “Prince Remus” accompanying some doodles and a splatter that looks almost like blood. The lower half is in shaky but beautiful calligraphy. The opening address is “My darling flower,” and the ending signature reads “Yours forever, Dolos.” 

“My love,” Roman whispers, tracing his fingers over Dolos’s signature. “And my brother . . . I love them . . . so much.”

“You gave up a lot to be with us,” Thomas says. “I appreciate everything that you’ve sacrificed. Logan and I would be dead without you.” 

“I’m glad no one is dead,” Roman says softly, voice wavering. “I just . . .”

“You love them,” Patton says. “We understand.” 

Roman strokes the parchment. His fingers come away slightly black with ink from the upper portion that his brother scrawled, and he exhales. “I am going to write them back. I’ll send Dragon to them. I’m not losing touch with my family, not again. Not this time. Remus and Dolos aren’t going to leave my life, not this time. They’ve got just as big a bone to pick with my father as we do. They can give us usable information.” 

“Will that endanger them?” Logan asks. 

“Uncle Emile is there, too. He can help them be discreet. I’m not abandoning my old family for this one, but - but I won’t betray you to my father, either. That’s not what a prince does.” Roman squares his shoulders again, and Virgil blinks in surprise. Roman doesn’t look ridiculous, like a child-soldier, or militant, like an enemy. He looks proud and strong and regal.

He looks like a real prince.

“I support you,” Logan says, startling all of them. “You are a prince, even if you are not our prince. I trust your judgement.” Roman seems the most shocked of all of them by Logan’s bold proclamation, especially considering the heated duel they’d had just three weeks ago, but Logan’s milky grey eyes look like they’re staring into Roman’s soul. 

Virgil is familiar with that look. 

“If Lo trusts you, I trust you,” Thomas says, and he smiles widely. Patton nods, smile bright and bubbly, and Roman looks to Virgil. He offers a thumbs-up and ruffles Roman’s hair. Roman squawks and bats at him, pushing him away. Virgil laughs and falls over easily into a back-bend. 

“Once you’re sure Thomas is solid on his earth-bending, we’re going to a sacred Fire Nation site on the fringes of the empire,” Roman tells Logan. “Fire comes next in the Avatar cycle, right? After earth?” 

“I think so?” Thomas says. 

“I know so,” Logan confirms. “And I think he’s ready.”

Roman nods, and the fire blazing in his eyes is the most reassuring thing Virgil’s seen in quite a while. (It’s strange to say, considering Roman is a Fire Nation prince, but Virgil’s used to people judging him by appearances. He’s learning to reconsider his assumptions.) 

“Alright then,” Roman says. “I’ll write back to my brother, try and find out what sites might be relatively empty so that we can camp ourselves out there. Fire Nation, here we come.” 

[monomonomagines]

hey there! if it's okay, would I be able to request a similar thing as one of your recent posts with the V3 characters being taunted abt their s/o's death except it's for the v3 girls with a fem s/o? and otherwise p much the same if that's okay?? thank you!!!! yall are great!!!!

Thanks so much for requesting this. I’m sure since you read the last one of these I did, you know I can’t go into too much detail about gore/blood but I’ll still try my hardest! I’ve been working harder to make all of these imagines better written so I hope you enjoy this and if not please feel free to tell me where I goofed so that I can fix it up. Also for anyone that isn’t familiar with the previous version I did of this request with the V3 boys you can find it here.

Kaede

Kaede dreaded those awful announcements more than anything.

Whenever another body was found so was another murderer, both being the very people she knew to be her friends.

It was too much for her most of the time but she was determined to remain positive. As long as you were with her, she had nothing to worry about.

That’s what she thought at least until she entered the Gym and realized she couldn’t pick you out from the crowd.

She felt her heart suddenly sink but before she could even confirm her suspicions Shuichi pulled her by the arm to drag her aside.

He didn’t want her to have to see the horrible state your body was left in but even as he told her of what happened she couldn’t believe it, not until she saw it with her own two eyes.

When she did see you though, with your lifeless eyes crumpled on the floor like some forgotten rag doll with the murder weapon next to you she knew.

She knew but she couldn’t accept it at all.

The whole investigation she’s trying her hardest to still help Shuichi and during the class trial, she’s staying fairly strong.

However, that all comes crashing down as soon as the murderer is cornered by the two and begins to mock you.

Kaede couldn’t believe her ears but she definitely heard them mock the way that you didn’t even see them coming, the way that you thought of them as a mere friend passing when you saw them, and how you simply fell to the floor lifeless without even knowing what happened.

Kaede had discerned with Shuichi that the cause of death was instantaneous and was a result of blunt force trauma but she still didn’t want to hear about your suffering at all.

You were always so kind and for someone to betray your trust like that was just unacceptable!

She’d push Shuichi to finish things off as tears streamed down her cheeks but she couldn’t bring herself to watch the execution at all.

She knows you wouldn’t have wanted this but she had no choice but to do this for your sake and everyone else’s. That murderer had to pay for their crimes!

Kirumi

Kirumi had taken a while to dedicate herself to one person but now that she had, she had never been happier.

That’s why she was prepared to investigate as soon as she heard the Body Discovery Announcement with you and your remaining friends.

However, when she opened your lab only to find you hung up like some oversized ornament with the murder weapon laying below your dangling body she was in total shock.

She still wasn’t prepared to have someone like you and she wasn’t prepared at all for you to be taken out of her life.

She was normally so calm and so composed but just like when she had fallen in love with you she had only been able to fall to her knees and begin to wail like a child.

Everyone was shocked but no one dared to disturb her, not even Kokichi.

This was such a rare explosion of emotion from the Ultimate Maid and all of them knew it wasn’t a good idea to make things worse.

That is everyone other than the murderer.

As soon as there were a few pieces of incriminating evidence used against them they immediately turned to try to rile up Kirumi, telling her about how you cried for her to save you, how even as you died you were spouting nonsense about how she’d get them even if you didn’t make it, and most of all how she failed to do either.

Unbeknownst to them though, Kirumi had no tears left to shed. She was only filled with ice-cold rage.

Her expression didn’t change but her eyes certainly glared daggers at them.

She was ready to end this and if she had to she’d do it herself.

Kirumi brought things to a swift end, putting together the pieces without even investigating herself.

She thought she’d feel relieved but even as the execution played she felt sadder than she ever had before. This wouldn’t bring you back, nothing could.

Angie

Angie was rather carefree even when it came to the Killing Games so when the Body Discovery Announcement reared it’s ugly head she barely paid it any mind.

This just meant that she’d go spend more time with you, get through another Class Trial guided by Atua, and then she could go back to the dorms to hang out with you.

She expected you to already be there as you normally were a lot quicker about these things yet something was odd.

The place of crime was your room somehow?

She merely thought it coincidence at first but when she saw everyone but you crowded around the outside of your dorm she knew something was amiss.

Before anyone could stop her, she pushed her way through, calling for you.

However, once she saw you, she realized that you weren’t going to respond anytime soon.

There you lay on your bed as though you were just sleeping, the only difference on you being some blood on your hands.

She wasn’t ready to comprehend the intricacies of your murder though.

All she could comprehend was that she was back to being the world’s loneliest girl and that you’d never return to her.

Surprisingly she wasn’t emotional at all. No, instead her normally aglow face just held a strangely foreign downcast look.

It was so unusual for Angie to not be her usual smiling self but even when it was time to begin the Trial itself she still just stood in her place with that same expression on her face.

It was all she had done during the investigation. No one had heard a word from her within the entire Trial even.

That is until the murderer had dared to mock her.

She couldn’t feel anything but sadness and anger swirling inside her despite her lack of expression.

She didn’t retort at all she knew that you probably would’ve called for her.

She knew you’d believe in her to the last minute just as much as she believed in Atua but what use was it when those beliefs weren’t granted?

She knew she had to end this so finally acting like her old self she put on a smile urging Shuichi to finish things up.

She didn’t watch the execution at all she just would wait until she could return to her room before she could wail and scream at the heavens to give you back.

 Tenko

Like Angie, Tenko can get carried away with her own interests.

She always cares if she loses a friend (including degenerate males even) but she doesn’t always help out the most during the investigation process.

Again not because she doesn’t care but rather because she has her priorities, priorities which happened to be you.

Because of dating you she’d be stuck to you like glue most of the time. That and you were what was always on her mind even in this awful Killing Game.

So when that blasted Announcement played itself she knew she would be needed. You were probably scared without her there to protect you.

She quickly sprinted to the Dining Hall, prepared to be a source of comfort for you in these trying times when her eyes didn’t spot you.

Huh? That’s odd. Perhaps she had just missed you?

She kept scanning all the standing students gathered around, not even bothering to look at the body until it sank in.

You weren’t here so that could only mean one thing. That body she saw sprawled out in the corner was none other than you.

Tenko always had trouble being a bit overemotional but this just made things worse.

She was equally angry and sad and she really couldn’t pick between crying over you and threatening the others even when they had to touch your body for the investigation.

She impeded the investigation more than helped it but no one wanted to blame her for that.

You two were so close, she always made sure everyone knew it too so for someone to do this was just plain cruel.

And that couldn’t have been more true.

The murderer just had to add insult to injury by mocking her about how you cried out for her, that she’d protect you because she swore to, and how you still died with the foolish hope that she would come in time.

It was too much for her and if not for Gonta holding her back they might’ve had another murder on their hands.

Tenko would push Shuichi to finish things, not being much help herself this time around.

She wouldn’t watch the execution but she wouldn’t be quite the same afterwards. Compared to Angie, she isn’t good at faking going back to her old self and wouldn’t seem like it until a good while had passed.

Then she’d decide to keep living on for you! Even if she couldn’t have protected your body, she’d protect your memory for sure!

Miu

Miu had made some basic walkie talkie like devices for you and her to keep in touch but you hadn’t been picking up.

She assumed you were just ignoring her or sleeping or some shit so at first, she was just anticipating you to send a message back.

However, more and more time passed and there was no word back.

She had begun to grow a bit worried by then so she decided to go by your dorm but even when she knocked there was no answer.

The only other option was the dining hall then! She quickly made her way over to the hall but something on the way stopped her.

Because of being in such a hurry she had tripped over something but when she looked down to see that it was a literal arm she couldn’t help but let out a shriek.

Soon all the others came running and as soon as they did that terrifying Announcement played.

At first, Miu was confused, but as she looked a little further beyond the arm she had tripped over she knew why you didn’t answer her.

She couldn’t look as they looked over your body, all she could do was dejectedly pick up your walkie talkie laying next to you.

Both of her newest favorite things were now in pieces and she didn’t even know how to react.

Throughout the investigation, she’d be rather angry impeding more than helping like Tenko.

However, that anger wouldn’t subside even in the Class Trial.

The whole time she kept both walkie talkies in hand ready to incriminate the asshole that killed her lover in a heartbeat.

In fact, she was so angry that even when the killer began to mock her she didn’t get meek like normal at all.

She didn’t care if you tried to call her with the walkie talkie or if you screamed or whatever. What she cared about was getting rid of the asshole that stole you from her!

She’d actually somehow wrap up a Class Trial herself, surprising everyone there.

But when the execution played she was more focused on fiddling with that walkie talkie. She had made it so that it wasn’t just like any old one. She could still get your chat logs if she fixed yours.

And once she did she’d just sit and listen to the sound of your voice. Now all those, “I love yous” and “Good mornings or nights” felt so long ago.

Himiko

Himiko was normally woken up by you so that she didn’t have to worry about getting up herself but weirdly enough that awful Announcement woke her instead.

It wasn’t like you to just suddenly not come to wake her up so she made her way towards the crime scene in the pool rather leisurely.

She didn’t feel hurried at all until she saw something that caught her eye in the pool.

Was that you?

She couldn’t comprehend it and even though she was always so relaxed she couldn’t help but feel panicked.

How was this happening? This was really happening, right?

Himiko felt her legs give out underneath her, falling to the ground in a small heap as she looked on in horror.

She couldn’t cry or scream, all she could was look on in a terrified stupor.

By the time she felt even slightly more balanced the whole investigation had gone by.

As far as she was concerned the investigation was a total blur but as soon as the Trial began she had some newfound anger.

She was demanding answers even before Shuichi had a certain suspect pinned and even then her questioning only grew in ferocity.

She wasn’t backing down at least not until that awful murderer mocked you.

That was a whole other story. She couldn’t believe that she didn’t hear you calling for help, that you believed in her even then, and that you died with such faith in her never being realized.

She felt awful and before she knew it she was a crying screaming mess.

She wanted this to end. She needed Shuichi to finish this for her. She was too weak to do this even with her magic.

After the Trial, she’s still just a sobbing mess. Tenko would have to take her back to her room, trying to comfort her.

But she doesn’t want to come out of her room again. You’re not there so what’s the point?

She’ll be down for a good while but with her friends encouraging her she’ll try to follow Tenko’s example, living to honor the memories of you she held in her heart.

Tsumugi

Tsumugi was used to eating breakfast with you in the morning so when you never came to the Dining Hall she immediately began to worry.

She’d run out before she even registered that her legs were moving towards your dorm.

She’d knock and knock but you wouldn’t respond and that’s when she knew something wasn’t right.

Running out to check whatever rooms she knew were nearby, she never expected to find you by the top of the stairs on the second floor.

Who could’ve done this!? She was overwhelmed by the sudden sight that all she could do was fall to her knees as a few tears began to trickle down.

She had to call for the rest of your friends, she knew she did but she didn’t want to acknowledge that this was really happening.

Even though her voice felt like it barely came out she was able to yell loud enough for a few others to come, signaling that terrible Announcement.

She was far too shaken up for the investigation and she wasn’t any better in the trial.

That’s why when the murderer began to mock her everyone was sure it was going to break her. 

Instead, though, she looked very angry.

She didn’t ask to hear about how you screamed for help or how the life left your eyes. She only cared about delivering the final blow to this scumbag.

Even after the Trial is over though she can’t look anyone in the eye. She just feels so lost without you that she ends up being rather distant.

She’ll make a lot more cosplays to try to cope but she just ends up making all of your favorite characters even when you can’t wear their outfits.

Maki

Maki was used to losing people that she cared for.

That’s why she expected something like this to happen. She just didn’t know it’d happen so soon.

It was only last night when the two of you spoke. She had warned you to be careful, to not get yourself killed and you promised that you wouldn’t.

She didn’t know why but the fact that promise was broken only made that ache her heart worse.

She didn’t express anything even when the Announcement played after everyone showed up to the Gym.

She could tell what was going on. You were the only one not here so it had to be you laying in a puddle of your own blood there.

You were such an idiot. You promised her and now here you were.

As much as she wanted to avenge you, she knew she couldn’t kill to get back at your killer. She needed to do this right and that’s why she’s stepping up for the investigation.

She knew everything there was about murder obviously and she was going to use it to her advantage.

It was this very knowledge that helped incriminate the brute that killed you but they didn’t want to give up hurting others apparently.

Maki wasn’t too fazed when the killer mocked her but when they talked about how you cried out for her, an assassin of all people she was beyond mad.

How dare they talk about you like that!

She makes sure there’s a swift finish to that trial and she watches that execution with cold eyes.

She wasn’t happy to see another classmate of hers die but she was more concerned about one thing.

How could they look so scared to die? How scared were you with her not there to save you?

It all just left a bad taste in her mouth. It was worse than failing a mission. She had allowed herself to get close to someone and for what?

She was all alone in the world again.