#why is it I love useless boys so much in games and loathe them in real life?

[reluctantvnnerd]

I played this last night and it was 100% delightful. Highly recommend checking it out.

"Given the chance, would you try again?"✨

Our Otome Jam 2024 Rekindle VN(DEMO) is out now!

🕯️Over 8k Words of Narrative 🕯️3 Love Interests 🕯️6 Unlockable CGs 🕯️Re-Nameable MC 🕯️Choose Pronouns 🕯️Partial Voice Acting 🕯️and an Original Soundtrack

Play it here: https://minthedraws.itch.io/rekindle

[zenalios]

[Warning: Long ramble ahead]

I have been thinking about Poseidon for an entire day, and not in the horny way. Much as I love to hate him, if I’m going to write about him, I need to know what makes him tick, right? There’s not much to work with if you look on the surface (seriously, I screenshotted and reread his chapters many many times, this twinky blond’s surface personality is almost as flat as an ironing board).

This all stemmed from me exploring whether or not Poseidon would have affairs. And someone else reminding me that canon Poseidon would not (again, thank you, you know who you are). The answer to this?

It depends. haha thanks law school  No, but seriously, I think I have gotten a grasp of his personality, hear me out if you have the time.

How does Poseidon actually function?

If he deems himself to be perfect, what does Poseidon actually do after all, since almost anything could be demeaning for him to do? Author has left us with a few things to work with that he won’t do or associate himself with, and instances where he acted out upon facing them:

Schemes and betrayal - Adamas schemed against Zeus (outcome: Poseidon killed him)

“The herd”/Support - The crowd cheered for Poseidon (outcome: no deaths, but he gave them a death glare and insulted them)

This could possibly extend to more, including protecting his reputation as the “perfect” being, the god of gods (”GOG”). 

But if we go along those lines… why did he even show up or participate in Ragnarok? Did Poseidon sign himself up? A tournament of this level could easily be interpreted as scheming too. That, and now he has to perform in front of the other gods, who he called a “useless bunch of bottom feeders”. Excluding the fact that the Author called him in as a champion (or Zeus, if we want to get cheeky), why did he agree to become one? He’s so perfect, he shouldn’t have to waste his time fighting humans, right? Why does he even care to attend anyways? Is it to watch their demise, which, again, they’re so trivial for a perfect being like him, so he shouldn’t give a shit about it anyways? Is he a repressed god who enjoys fighting like Thor, Zeus, and Shiva? We don’t get the impression he does, because Poseidon has never even had to try his hand at fighting someone better than him; he literally just one shot Adamas and that was it. Poseidon could have just turned down being a champion -we know he’s the most feared god, and nobody dares question him, so actually, nobody would have said anything if he decided not to. The audience didn’t even know he was fighting, so really, he didn’t stand to lose anything if he didn’t participate.

Here’s what I think. He participated because he knew he was strong, and he thought he could make a point there about how insignificant humanity is. His arrogance was further boosted by Thor’s crushing defeat of Lü Bu, and Zeus’s defeat of Adam (who was considered mankind’s trump card too). If they can do it, so can he, because he is the GOG.

What if he’s just doing things to prove a point? It’s very childish, yes. But so is the way he talks and behaves (I play a MOBA, and he sounds like all the trashtalkers I’ve ever met “ur trash uninstall game n00b” <3). He is like a teenager that has taken it upon himself to go through that “Nobody understands me” “I’m better than everyone” phase for all eternity.

Take having an affair for example. As pointed out, affairs can lead to a weakening of his divine reputation, and also, vulnerability. These are things Poseidon would be loath to fall for. So... no affairs? Not necessarily. The gods had tons of affairs. Zeus is literally depicted as a lecherous old man, so there is no way he was not having any of his own as well. With the exception of best boi Heracles, Ares, and Hermes (counting those we have seen so far), I think all of them would have had at least one, one way or another.

BUT, is being lustful contrary to being perfect? And if you successfully resist said lust, does that place you above everyone else? Yes, and yes. And how does Poseidon see himself?

Perfect. Above everyone else. The GOG I can’t not use this term, it’s so pretentious to me. On the topic of affairs, this would actually mean he deems himself impervious to lust as well. Poseidon would do it just to prove that he can, that he is fully conscious of himself, to prove that it’s just sex, just libido management to him, that he alone is capable of having an affair and emerging unscathed (this is childish, Poseidon is stupid).

WHICH NOW BRINGS ME TO THIS.

Why, for the love of the gods, is Poseidon like this?

Apart from the Author just writing him like so, I do believe there are certain underlying factors contributing to his trash personality. 

In Greek mythology, Poseidon was not always satisfied with Zeus’s rule. Though he was not overly jealous, he did attempt to overthrow him once or twice. Homer’s Iliad even mentions that Poseidon has schemed to bind Zeus, along with Hera and other fellow Olympians (think Adamas gathering everyone to do it). 

Poseidon in Ragnarok is never mentioned or shown to be jealous of Zeus; however, this does not exclude him from resenting that he did not become the king of gods. Zeus is their younger brother by order of birth (not counting the second birth), hence he should defer to the older brothers. It’s likely Poseidon thinks the same, there’s literally no evidence he is even loyal to Zeus other than him directly ending a plot that would overthrow Zeus by killing the source of dissent. All he says is that Adamas has defiled everything they stand for a bit harsh, man. Self-projection, maybe? The only difference between them would be that Adamas has chosen to take action and gathered everyone else to do it, while Poseidon just sat there and sulked about it. Then he takes it out on Adamas for bringing it up to begin with. 

I really believe this would resonate with Poseidon. If he’s that good, that perfect, the GOG, as they call him, why then was he not made the king of gods? Does it make sense for the GOG to not... become the… GOG? Underneath the entire “gods are perfect we need no one, gods don't need to scheme, gods don't need betrayal, bla bla” spiel, all I see is an entitled bastard salty geddit that he didn’t get the throne despite the fact that he never fought for it, simply because he thinks he’s so good it should have been handed to him on a golden plate instead of it going to Zeus. 

And when Sasaki pinpoints what he has not done, he gets even more tilted than a player whose match just got thrown, and winds up throwing his own match. Because even though Hermes mentioned that “the true depths of the ocean god remain a mystery even to his own kind”, someone who has lived life to the fullest like Sasaki can easily call him out on his bullshit. Which he of course becomes absolutely incensed at. Sure, he's played by these rules for eons, but if a person has been that way for so long, they would simply be confident and shake the insult off. Why then, is Poseidon so angered by Sasaki's statements? It's simple. After so long, someone has finally seen through it or dared to call it out after seeing it. The gods might not have, since they all believe they're perfect (re: Zeus, "such are the gods"), but a human certainly would.

Killing Poseidon can essentially be simplified into this:

Passion vs apathy (not empathy, again, it is 7am)

Action vs inaction

People you actually want in your life vs toxic people you don’t (I’m kidding, but seriously)

Overall,

Poseidon is a hypocrite and is so self-absorbed that in his own world, he plays judge, jury, and executioner.

“Perfect” this, “perfect” that. The whole thing is an act, ocean man is a sham. Poseidon excuses away his actions by insisting that perfect beings do not need to do such things. Then he goes and does them, but picks apart other people for it. After Adamas attacks, he becomes history erased from the books -hello, this is another scheme between yourself and Hermes, what about gods not needing to scheme? On top of that, doesn’t killing your brother count as betrayal anyways? 

Anyways, yes, he’s stiff, he’s trash, I would not wish meeting / dealing with him upon my enemies, but he is a very nice challenge as a writer to try and pick apart his character. 

[aprilsrant]

Lay all your love on me | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N)’s been crushing on the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain for over three years. Now, in their seventh and last year of Hogwarts, her friends are determined to get them together.

WORD COUNT: 2,833.

WARNINGS: underage drinking. (If there are more and I didn’t put them, let me know).

NEXT PARTS:

Honey Honey! (part two)

When I kissed the teacher (part three).

A/N: so, this came out because of a random idea and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. For some reason, I like to imagine wizards dancing to ABBA, of course it’s the muggleborns and maybe halfbloods that know about them. This was written while I listened to Lay all your love on me, slowed down, on repeat. I algo gave the reader’s friends name because it was easier, and I may or mat not based their personality on my own close friends…

English is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, I’m sorry! Reblog if you can, and if you have any suggestions or requests just DM!

Masterlist.

tags: @peeves-a-legend​ (thank you for everything).

The Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff Quidditch match had ended with a win for the eagle’s house, although the other team did not make it easy for them. The Hufflepuffs were known for their patience and hard working nature, giving up easily was not one of their traits and that’s exactly what everyone had seen on the match this afternoon. They knew their opponent’s Seeker, Cho Chang was getting better with each game  she played, so the Captain of the Hufflepuff Team decided their best chance was, if he wasn’t fast enough to catch the snitch that is, to lash out against the poor Keeper. 

And so they did. 

The Chasers, Preece, Macavoy and Applebee, were unstoppable. On the occasion the Quaffle landed in their hands, which had been like seventy percent of the time, they would use many different strategies to confuse the other players, including the Keeper, and score a goal.

Even after their brilliant performance, Ravenclaw still won by twenty points ahead when Cho Chang caught the snitch. A small distraction from the Hufflepuff Seeker and Captain had cost them the victory, but that didn’t discourage the badgers, hell, (Y/N) thought nothing could after how well they had played. She had never felt so much respect for the usually overlooked House. 

That was pretty much the reason why the Ravenclaws were so eager to celebrate their win and had invited the whole school, or at least everyone up to the age of fifteen, to their Common Room. Many people believed they weren’t capable of throwing a good party since they were supposed to be smart and have their head on a book every minute, but (Y/N) never doubted them. One of her best friends was a Ravenclaw and that girl sure knew how to have fun, school and good grades being the last thing on her mind whenever she got sight of the Firewhisky. 

If you had asked for (Y/N)’s opinion, she would tell you Ravenclaws were the seconds best at Hogwarts on the matter of hosting parties, Slytherins right up to them. Albeit that may have been biased, she herself was a Slytherin and, thinking about it, she never went to any Gryffindor parties because, well, no one except her other friend wanted a Slytherin there. Many of them thought they were some kind of saints just because they were brave and didn’t realise they were, instead, a bunch of reckless and prejudiced twats. The remaining house, Hufflepuff, took parties to a whole other level and sometimes it became all a little too much. She wasn’t much of a party person but she still enjoyed them from time to time, but they went insane any time alcohol was in the room and started to come up with crazy ideas that would, with no doubt, get them expelled. 

After waiting ten minutes for a member of the house to step out and answer the riddle for her, which (Y/N) knew you didn’t need to be part of the house to reply but even as a Slytherin and having, supposedly, a cunning and intelligent mind she sucked at those kind of questions; she, and twenty others,  finally entered the Ravenclaw Common Room, which was completely renovated since the last time she had visited it.

The circular and wide room was filled with students from all the four houses making it seem smaller than it actually was. The moon shone, filtering through the arched windows, barely illuminated but some flickering and colour changing lights on the ceiling made it work. The furniture was against the wall on the left side so people could dance freely in the middle, while the tables on the right bursted with food and bottles of alcohol. A muggle radio had been placed on one of the large table’s corner and to (Y/N)’s delight, it wasn’t playing any songs by the Weird Sisters. She loathed that band since last year when some students, presumably Gryffindors, enchanted the speakers on the hallways to repeatedly play one of the group’s songs. 

The girl started to move towards the left side of the room, avoiding the crowd growing larger and larger. Trying to catch some familiar faces, she stood on her tiptoes and observed the room, but the lack of light and her problem with seeing things from afar, made her search harder. A couple of minutes had passed when she recognized the trio she was friends with. They were waving and screaming her name, trying to catch her attention, right beside the door that led to the dormitories.  

(Y/N) grinned at them while walking in their direction. Once she settled on Isla’s side, her best friend since childhood, some of her nerves were washed away a little. It was easier for her to be in a place packed with people if she had her close friends as company. Dorian, the last one to join the group in their fifth year, offered her a black cup with, judging by the smell, Quintin Black, her favourite. The corners of her mouth quirking up as a way of saying thanks without having to shout at him to make herself be heard through the loud music.

The Multicolour Quartet — name they all despised but stood with it because it was one of Dorian’s drunk comments when he realised how they were all from different houses; (Y/N) was the Slytherin, he was the Gryffindor, and the other two, Isla and Ethan, were both Ravenclaws — easily fell in a conversation about Isla’s brilliant performance as Chaser for her House’s Team, the other three complimenting her whenever she started to list all the errors that almost allowed the Hufflepuffs to win.

Spacing out of her friend’s chat, (Y/N)’s eyes peer round the room looking, nearly in a desperate way, for someone in particular. Answering the comments the other three made with a simple nod of her head or a yes to seem like she was paying attention, her eyes fixated in a figure directly across from them, supporting it’s body’s weight on a wall. He was surrounded by some of his classmates and friends from the same house, but she could still see, albeit with great trouble, his short brown hair and his right hand holding a black cup, equal to the one she had. 

She failed to realise that her friends had noticed where her attention travelled to. Sharing knowing glances and smirks they knew it was time for (Y/N) to talk to the boy she’d been crushing on for three years now. Isla and Ethan left saying some people were starting to cause trouble, not that (Y/N) had actually listened to them, too lost in attempting to catch another glimpse of the boy. That ended on Dorian, the most chaotic of the four, finding the way to make them, at least, share two or three words.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her left arm dragging her along the room and pushing people on the way. That belonged to Dorian and it didn’t take long for her to understand what he was doing, his mischievous smile betraying him. Her eyes widened and she shook her head while planting her feet on the floor, putting all her strength on them so he wouldn’t move her. She didn’t succeed. Obviously because of his friend’s stronger hands. 

A chant of pleas and several no exited from her mouth, but it was useless. If something got inside Dorian’s head, then nothing could stop him from doing it. A trait they both shared and the cause of a few of their arguments, neither of them knew when to back the hell down. Not even the promise of (Y/N) doing his Arithmancy homework for two weeks made him stop on his tracks. Dorian had really compromised to the cause because she knew how much he detested that subject, only taking it to please his father. 

Before she could raise the offer to a month, they were already in front of him and the group he was chatting with. 

Oliver Wood smiled at the two friends, recognizing only one of them but still being kind and inviting towards her, whose heart was about to jump out of her chest from how fast it was beating. 

“Hey, Wood, how’re you doing?,” Dorian greeted him first and then nodded at the others as if he was saying hi, “preparing for the Quidditch match next week?”

(Y/N) stood awkwardly by Dorian’s side, looking and smiling shyly at people she had never interacted with. She was going to cut this boy’s head of the minute everyone left.

“Yeah, the Hufflepuffs played like hell today.” She heard Oliver say. His words tumbling with each other. Was he already starting to get drunk? “I think I’ll need to book more practices if we want to win next week”.

Luckily, or not, Dorian noticed he hadn’t introduced his friend to the group yet. And even if she didn’t like to just stand there like a rigid stick, she hated the new attention.

“This is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), by the way,” he announced while placing his right hand on the upper side of her back and pushing her body to the front. And the shy smile made an appearance on her face once more. 

She whispered a small hello, looking at everyone but Oliver, and instantly felt the need to jump off the Astronomy Tower, not long after making Dorian the next designated Gryffindor Ghost. 

“What house are you in? I’ve never seen you before,” questioned one of the boys next to Oliver with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a lost look on his eyes, as if he was trying to place her and remember the colours of the tie she used daily.

“She’s not a Gryffindor, maybe that’s why you haven’t seen her much,” Dorian answered before she had the chance to, “she’s actually a Slytherin.” A new expression on his face now, intimidating the others to see if they dared to express some kind of negative or stupid comment to his friend about the house she belonged to. No one said anything. She saw Dorian smiling proudly from the corner of her eye, but in that moment (Y/N) had the weird sensation she was some kind of prey to starving lions.

The group began to talk to each again, like nothing happened, all except Oliver, who was looking at her with his eyebrows raised and an intriguing sparkle in his dark brown eyes.

Dorian spoked once more.

Does he ever shut up?

“Remember the other day you said you were falling behind in Potions and Transfiguration?” Oliver nodded at him, signalising her friend to keep talking. “Well, I have the perfect person to help you with that. (Y/N) tutors me from time to time in those subjects too.”

Forget the Astronomy Tower, she desperately needed some kind of magical earthquake that could crack the floor beneath her feet and swallow her whole.

It’s not like Dorian was lying, she had helped him, and still did sometimes, to study for an important test, not only in Potions and Transfiguration, but also in the rest of the subjects they shared. Merlin knew that boy was a disaster when talking about paying attention to classes. But that didn’t mean she was good enough to tutor Oliver freaking Wood. (Y/N) could treat Dorian how she wanted if he wasn’t trying to, at least, know what she was talking about, they were friends and most of their time together was spent hitting each other, but how was she supposed to act around the precious Gryffindor Quidditch Captain?

“Great!,” Oliver exclaimed quickly. A sudden blush crept all the way from below his turtle neck to his cheeks, but she couldn’t identify if it happened because of the alcohol or embarrassment from sounding “too enthusiastic”. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “I was about to start looking for one. McGonagall said that if I don’t get my grades up to an Exceeds Expectations, I won’t be able to play the rest of the matches.”

“That sucks, but you’d found one already so you two can start immediately with the tutoring sessions”, Dorian commented slily while looking at her with the smile of a champion adorning his face.

He was trying exceptionally hard, she had to give him that.

In a swift movement, she drank the whole content of her cup to see if the knot that had formed on her stomach would go away. The blonde girl, perhaps a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, beside (Y/N) noticed her drink was missing and offered her to reach out for one of the bottles of the table across. The Slytherin nodded and asked for the bottle of Quintin Black if there was still one.

“So you like Scottish things?” Oliver observed, with his eyes lighted up and his bottom lip stuck beneath his teeth, when he saw her grab the bottle of alcohol filled to the middle with onyx liquid. 

“She sure does.” She heard Dorian mumble, he had tried to hide the smirk burying his face on his cup but (Y/N) took notice of that too. After giving him a pointed look, she turned her head towards Oliver, who, hopefully, hadn’t heard her friend’s remark; if he had, he was good at concealing it.

Her response was interrupted by the starting melody of “Lay all your love on me”, one of her favourite songs, and a voice that could only belong to her best friend, screaming her name. Out of nowhere, Isla took her hand, said something to Oliver and Dorian about returning her to them later, and yanked (Y/N) to the direction of the made up dance floor, making her almost drop the cup she was holding.

It was an unspoken rule between them, whenever one of their favourite songs was on the radio, they would stop what they were doing, important or not, and start to dance and sing, without caring about other people’s opinion. It was something like a ritual that had become a safe space and a signature of their friendship for both of the girls.

A few seconds through the song had played when Celine stopped dancing and approached her friend, whispering something in her ear.

“Okay, don’t look and don’t freak out, but Oliver hot stuff Wood is staring at you.”

“What? What do I do?” 

“Just keep dancing, I guess, maybe he likes it.”

“I don’t know how to dance, why would he like it?” 

Confusion and panic in her eyes, (Y/N) tried to think about all the logical reasons Oliver Wood, one of the most attractive guys in the school, could be watching her dance. The girl knew she wasn’t beautiful, even if her best friend repeatedly said so, she wasn’t funny or interesting and, on top of all, she belonged in Slytherin, the House with the worst reputation. 

“No idea, but whatever it is, keep doing it.” 

Her best friend winked at her, a large and contagious smile spreading over her face. Grabbing one of (Y/N)’s hands, she made her twirl around following the fast beat of the song. Seizing the opportunity, (Y/N) glanced at Oliver and discovered that he was, indeed, staring at her while he drank from his black cup.

A random and unexpected laugh flew out of her mouth. Her best friend, carefree as always, began to giggle with her while dancing around the room. She had never felt more alive, and some people would think she was ridiculous for actually thinking it, but singing her favourite song at the top of her lungs, dancing and laughing and just having fun with her best friend. Excitement running through her veins uniting with the nerves Oliver’s attention towards her had provoked; a slight headache caused by the alcohol mixing with the new confidence coming from the same thing. 

Aware of the dark brown eyes focusing on her, she turned around once more, but this time she didn’t look away. She kept singing, beaming at him from the middle of the dance floor, and maintaining eye contact. A sudden thought appeared on her mind, if she’d had maybe one more full cup of Quintin Black, perhaps she would’ve been confident enough to ask him on a date. 

Don’t go wasting your emotions, lay all your love on me.

Don’t go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me.

(Y/N) didn’t think that he would take that as an invitation when she whispered the words while looking at him, it wasn’t even meant to be one, but Oliver Wood had left his cup on the table next to him and was now walking towards her.

A little small talk, a smile and baby I was stuck. 

I still don’t know what you’ve done with me.

[narrans]

A Tall and Small Collection | Soren | What’s Fair and What’s Right

Ashlynn watched, now growing increasingly concerned with Soren’s reaction to seeing the other injured Borrower. Soren was stiff and shaking, eyes locked and unmoving from the small, injured man. Ashlynn had seen some bad injuries before – not including Soren’s busted leg – but had never worked as a medical professional. It was a miracle she was able to get Soren standing. She suspected Soren hadn’t seen these kinds of rough injuries; however, she didn’t expect this reaction – shaken.

“Soren… I know I’m asking a lot, but…”

“I can’t… I can’t help him…” interrupted Soren. Soren was still shaking, his shoulders rising and falling visibly as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. Ashlynn felt her chest tighten. This can’t be easy seeing someone like him injured like this.

“Soren, I know this is tough for you to see, but…”

“No…” Soren interrupted again harshly, this time taking defiant several steps back. “You don’t get it. That’s Brady.”

Ashlynn had to stop and think for a minute. Where had she heard that name before? Why did it sound so familiar? It finally dawned on her – it was that Brady. This was the Brady who Soren had muttered about and curses when he was unconscious. This was Brady, the father of Dorian and Rey who had seemingly abandoned his two young sons.

“Wait. This is that Brady?” asked Ashlynn. Soren’s hands bunched into fists as his features hardened. He nodded slowly and forcefully. It all became much clearer now. Soren’s reaction wasn’t out of shock or fear for his brothers’ father – it was out of anger.

Suddenly, Ashlynn thought that bringing Soren in to help was a bad idea. Ashlynn kept her voice low, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Dorian and Rey were still under the bed before speaking to Soren again.

“Soren, look, I get you’re angry, but I really can’t do this alone and I can’t bring Dorian and Rey into this. Please, I need your help,” urged Ashlynn.

“Angry? I’m furious!” seethed Soren, turning his blazing hazel eyes to Ashlynn. “You’re asking me to help him? HIM! After everything he did? I can’t – I won’t – help him.”

“It’s not his fault. Austin is a rambunctious kid and he was probably caught off guard. He didn’t abandon Dorian and Rey like we thought,” argued Ashlynn, still keeping her voice low as to not alert the boys.

“No, but he abandoned me!” spat Soren. “He left me to DIE, Ashlynn. Die! He knew what it meant to be seen and captured by a human. He left me in that mousetrap knowing full well what would happen to me; and if the human was anyone other than you, I’d be in worse condition than he is right now.”

Ashlynn understood Soren’s frustration. The fear Soren must have felt being left alone in the condition he was in. The pain from his injury preventing him from escaping. If someone like Austin had gotten a hold of Soren when he was injured, her Borrower companion would not be there with Ashlynn now. She wished desperately that she could do something for friend; but could she let someone else suffer when they did nothing to her?

A dozen memories flashed before her eyes. In each, she stood idly by – a bystander doing nothing. Yes, it was cruel and horrible what Brady did to Soren, but she had to convince Soren it was worth saving him or, at the very least, to try. If he didn’t help, he would regret it for the rest of his life. This much she knew for certain.

“Soren,” Ashlynn muttered. “I… can’t imagine what you’re going through and I am so sorry. I wish I could do something to help, but you need to listen to me on this. You have to help.” Soren turned away running his fingers through his dark brown hair.

“No. After everything he’s done?” spat Soren, turning defiantly and pointing to Brady’s unmoving form.

“I get it,” Ashlynn hissed as she caught Soren’s eyes. “Believe it or not, I actually get part of what you’re going through, whether to help someone or not, and I would love to give this scum bag a piece of my mind for leaving you the way he did. Standing up for one another – that’s what friends do for one another; but I also know this. If you don’t help him, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life; not because you owe it to him, but you owe it to Dorian and Rey.”

This statement earned a scowl from Soren. Ashlynn knew she had hit a nerve, but he needed to hear this.

“Don’t you bring them into this,” growled Soren. “I’ve been looking out for them for years while this useless scumbag did nothing for them.”

“So, you’d leave them in the dark? Let Brady succumb to his injuries, slip away, and go on letting Dorian and Rey think they were abandoned by their dad or that he’s still out there alive?” challenged Ashlynn. Soren shook his head and turned to the edge of the desk.

“He deserves to know he failed his sons,” Soren shot back as he began walking to the edge of the desk where Ashlynn had attached a line for Dorian and Rey to practice climbing.

It was impulsive, but Ashlynn didn’t think of that in the moment. She reached forward over Soren’s head and blocked his path with her arm.

Soren, who was still shaking with frustration and rage, felt his heart leap into his throat. That innate, primal fear of humans swelled in him, seizing his entire body. His heart tripled in pace. His breath hitched in his throat. He whipped around, an instinctual fearful expression plastered onto his face, as he backed up an additional few steps from Ashlynn’s face. He felt cornered and small. It had been a long time since Soren felt this fear, this helplessness.

Ashlynn regretted it the moment she did it, but she was already in this deep. Seeing Soren back away in fear like he had done when they first met all those weeks ago hurt her. The trust so delicately and carefully earned possibly shattered in a single moment. No going back she thought.

“Dorian and Rey look up to you. You are all they have. Keeping something like this from them will ruin their trust and their faith in you forever – that much I do know,” hissed Ashlynn. “I had a brother who looked up to me. We were as thick as thieves and he thought I could do no wrong. There’s a lot that led up to it, but, long story short, I told him that our dad was a piece of trash and was never coming back because he was dead. I thought I was sparing his feelings. Well, dad came back – with a new wife and kid. I wanted to protect his feelings and now I’m the one who is ousted. The truth hurts, but more often than not it is better than believing a lie.”

Soren, heart pounding in his ears and breath lost somewhere between his lungs and his head, barely heard what Ashlynn said, but he heard just enough.

“It doesn’t matter what Brady deserves. You’re right. He deserves to know he failed – but I’m pretty sure he’s realized that after his little stint with Austin. Dorian and Rey need this. At the very least, they need closure and to say their good-byes if Brady takes a turn for the worst. We can’t rob them of that.”

Ashlynn was right. The pounding in the eldest Borrower’s head subsided just enough to realize that Ashlynn did have a point. He hated to admit it. He hated thinking Brady would get some satisfaction out of this encounter, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Dorian and Rey not being able to say good-bye if something were to happen. Soren knew he wished he had that moment with his own father.

The overwhelming frustration whitened the clenched knuckles of the Borrower. Why couldn’t he have this one thing? Why was it always up to him? Why did he have to make the tough calls? Why did he need to do the right thing and be responsible? Soren, breathing heavily, let his legs give out so he could slump to the ground.

“It’s not fair,” muttered Soren. The tension eased, dissipating like a mist in the morning. Ashlynn knew she was playing a risky game, but she had gone all-in the moment she confronted her small companion. Ashlynn moved her arm from behind Soren and placed the palm of her hand against his back.

“I know,” she echoed. “It’s not fair.” Soren leaned back into Ashlynn’s hand and let his head tilt back until it bumped against her palm. They stayed there for a solid minute before Ashlynn heard a pounding on the door which made everyone in the room nearly jump out of their skin.

“Ashlynn! Are you in there? What are you doing?” called out the muffled voice of Austin. Ashlynn glanced back to Soren who was now crouched position, ready to bolt for the line but remained motionless tucked into the palm of her hand. She let out a sigh of relief.

“I had to grab something. I’ll be right out,” replied Ashlynn. The human glanced back at her companion and smiled sadly but reassuringly. Then, much quieter, she continued. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with some things to get him cleaned up. Do you want to be up here? Or back on the ground to tell Dorian and Rey?”

“Here for now as long as you’re back soon,” replied Soren. “I need to think about what I’m going to tell the bobbins.”

Ashlynn nodded and moved her hand. “Hey… look… sorry about the… arm thing. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She looked away shyly, suspecting she scared Soren half to death after showing him his worst enemy. He offered a weak smile in response.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. He watched Ashlynn smile, brace herself, and open the door to face the boy who had inflicted such pain on the Borrower. Soren didn’t know what would happen to the boy, if anything. Chances were the human boy Austin would live the rest of his life not knowing what he did.

Meanwhile, Soren was left on the standing desk with the still wheezing Brady. The day started with such promise. Now, Soren prepared himself to attempt to save the one person he loathed and to tell his brothers what happened. Yes. The day had certainly taken a turn, but maybe some good would come of it yet.

Continue

Previous

Beginning

~Feel free to reblog/repost, comment, like, suggest ~

~Prompts Welcome~

[harmoni-me]

Hello! I’m not sure if your requests are still open but, if they are here you go! I wanted to ask if you could write me a request of Nagito Komaeda x a reader who is the ultimate Chess Master? I kinda wanted to imagine him falling in love or already dating his S/O who plays chess as a professional and is more on the kinder side when it comes to him. Good luck! 💖

Ooo! This is such a unique concept, and I absolutely love it! Writing it was an absolute joy! Thank you so much for the amazing request <3

Nagito Komaeda x Ultimate Chess Master Reader!

The ultimate nurse, the ultimate swords-woman, the ultimate photographer…everyone in this class seemed to posses such interesting talents. It made you feel quite jealous, in some sort of way.

Now, of course you never thought of your talent as boring, useless, or unnecessary in the slightest! After all, you were the Ultimate Chess Master. You believed that everyone should try chess at least once before inflicting their nasty opinions on the strategic game. Unfortunately, that was already too late when it came to…basically your entire school life.

In Elementary, you would ask the kids on the playground to play a quick game of speed chess, because you thought it was a fun way to spend time with friends! But all you got in return were child-built insults, saying that chess was stupid and boring. It’s quite ridiculous to admit, but those comments still float around your mind sometimes. Kids were harsh, still are…

In Middle School, you had a few close friends, and when you asked one of them to try playing a game of chess with you, all they did was look at you weirdly, a look that only seemed to scream “uh, are you serious?”. This was when you started to question your liking for chess. Was it that weird? Am I the only one my age that thinks that chess is actually a fun game?

Now, you were sitting in class at Hope’s Peak Academy, a school full of the elite, yet…

This was the first time you felt truly, whole-heartily ashamed about your love for the game of chess.

“Are you kidding me? Chess? You got into this school for an old-people game like CHESS!? Pfft-!” A girl in twin blonde pony tails and an orange kimono let out a shrill of laughter.

“An…old people game….?” You muttered to yourself, steadily becoming a little closed off from the rest of the class.

You’re love for chess was parallel to how you played, which was almost unbeatable on a professional level, yet…

Why were these comments crushing your heart? Why did it make your love for the game waver?

Class continued like normal, just a little lecture to start off the rest of our high school lives. You honestly weren’t paying attention, your focus more attentive to your little chess notebook, filing it with strategies you wanted to try against high-level computer AI.

Though, it would be nice to have even a complete beginner to play with every once and awhile, though, you might be asking for too much.

Thump

Great, more harassment.

You turned around slightly in your seat, and looked down at the ground it see a crumpled piece of notebook paper that had hit you in the back. You picked it up, and looked around to try and figure out a potential culprit, but it seemed as if everyone was acting normal. No dice, then.

Unfolding the messy ball of paper as quietly as possible, you read what seemed to be words written on the inside.

Meet me in the library today after school, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to be seen with trash like me

The wording on the letter was…strange, but that didn’t stop you from feeling a tiny firework of joy in your heart. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel more nervous than joyous due to how the letter was written. It was surely vague, but it really seemed like the writer as quite the low self esteem.

You were suspicious, but honestly, what could go wrong? It had to be someone from the class that you were just introduced to, so at least it’s not like a blind date sort of thing…

The more you thought about it, the more it actually seemed like a blind date. Nice.

Time seemed to move incredibly slow for the whole rest of the school day, but eventually, the bell had rung, and you were out the door in a heartbeat.

After a little while of asking for directions to the school library, you finally reached your desired location: An absolutely humongous cavern of probably any book one could think of.

Only a couple of students were residing in this literal book mansion, and none of which you recognized.

“I guess they’re not here yet…” You mumbled, sitting yourself by a large, lit fireplace. As the warmth from the flames licked your skin, steadily causing you to naturally relax all of the tensed muscles that were stuck to your bones.

You pulled out your phone, and automatically started a game of online chess with a random opponent. The game was done in a mere ten minutes. The other player was no doubt new to the game, but that’s ok, you were there once too.

You suddenly heard a subtle clunk next to you, making your gaze wander to that direction. It was that boy from your class, the lucky boy. You remember him clearly because you thought his hair resembled a fluffy cloud. The two of you made eye contact, his foggy green eyes squinting a bit when he smiled at you, warming your heart a smidge.

“Y/N L/N, correct? I hope you don’t mind my presence, though it’s ok if you do, I would never blame you on something that’s not your fault.” The thin male crouched down to take a seat on the floor with you, sitting cross-legged.

“Yep, that’s me…and I actually kind of appreciate the meeting, honestly. Even if you just came for simple company, I think that’s very nice of you, especially since everyone in the class already thinks my talent is boring and all…Nagito Komaeda, right? I’m happy to meet you.” You shot a warm smile to the boy, causing him to reciprocate.

“You’re too kind to such untalented scum like myself, all I have is the Devil’s luck, after all! I can’t even control any of it! So I’m glad someone like me can be used as a stepping stone for you to be a beacon of hope!” Nagito chuckled, humored by his own self loathing.

You flipped your whole body to face the living incarnate of a four-leaf clover, “Well, um, on a personal note, I don’t think you’re scum. At all. I think your talent is anything but boring…I also think you’re…quite kind, for hanging out with someone like myself.” Fiddling with your uniform sleeves in nervousness. You just want him to feel better about himself.

The boy went quiet, his smile dwindling from your comment. Was he not used to compliments?

After a few moments in silence, Nagito gazed into your eyes, a new type of smile prettily stitched onto his features. It was almost like this expression was more…vulnerable, uncovering itself under layers upon layers of facades. His face almost made you breath out a sigh of relief at how comforting and relieving his genuine expression was.

“I would like to play with you. I-If you would let me, of course.” Nagito gestured his hands downwards to the chess set he had placed onto the ground since the very beginning. And how did you not notice that? It may or may not be the fact that the boy in front of you seemed to be way more intriguing.

You’re eyes widened as sudden happiness started to flow through every vein within your body. The excitement washed over your soul, rejuvenating it’s prior state of melancholy dreariness. Was…he was serious, right?

“Really…?” Was all that you managed to squeak, causing the lucky student to tilt his head in wonder.

“Hm? Well, of course…I don’t really know who else I would be aski-“

“C-Can we please play speed chess!?” You sputtered, the passion and the fireplace flames reflecting off of your eyes to reveal in an enticing glow.

“Speed Chess?” Questioned the frizzy-haired boy, though he did seem quite interested at your sudden burst of energy.

“Yeah! It’s also commonly referred to as Blitz Chess, and it’s like chess, but you have a very short amount of time to make your moves! It’s super duper fun, and if you want even more fun, then we could also play Bullet Chess! It’s even faster, and a game only takes roughly three minutes if you…keep up…the…pace…” Your words started to get quieter and more mumbled. God, you totally forgot the two of you were in a library, how embarrassing….

A hearty laugh spilled out of Nagito’s mouth, the corners of his lips turning upward to the ceiling. You looked down in pathetic nature. That was totally something to laugh at…

“Though I would consider myself a newbie when it come to chess, speed chess sounds lovely.” Nagito smiled, his pointer finger playing and twirling around the queen piece’s crown.

“Ah, a-alright, well, lets get started, shall we?” You stuttered, with joy obviously evident within your voice.

                                       .   .   .

Unsurprising to you, you had won all three games of speed chess against Nagito, though, it was surprising how close each game was. the more you thought about it, the more you realized his luck most likely aids him whenever he plays. Definitely one of the most interesting opponents you’ve been up against, whether it would be for casual online play, or in-person tournaments.

“Ah, bummer, I guess someone as useless as me shouldn’t even try to come close to beating you!” The boy ruffled his cloud-like locks, laughing at his loss.

“Hey! You had me worried for a few turns there, you were no pushover at all, Nagito!” You proclaimed, frustrated on why he would still think that, even thought the game results were all obviously pretty close.

“Also, please don’t say that your useless…it makes me really sad, because it’s not true at all.” You looked up at him with eyes that reflected something that had never burned so brightly before, and Nagito noticed.

Those eyes, previously clouded from the despair given from others, were now shining with a glimmering hope…and he drew that out from you…by simply playing a mere few games of chess.

For a moment, and only for a moment, he believed your words. Maybe he wasn’t so useless, he helped you find your smile and joy, right? Maybe…maybe…

“Oh yeah!” You shot up, causing Nagito to snap out of his thoughtful daze. You stuck your hand out to him, waiting for reciprocation.

“A handshake, to wish a good game among equals.” You encouraged the boy, wanting for him to fully indulge into what it was like to play the game in a professional, yet somewhat casual setting.

The boy looked at your hand, observing everything. Your nails, your fingertips, your knuckles, all the way down to your wrist. Equals, huh…

Nagito then slowly reached out to your hand, grasping onto it gently, yet it felt like it was the most comfortable fit he could’ve imagined. He wanted the warmth from your soft skin to seep into his cold hands, wanting that heat to slowly fill the rest of his frozen body, all the way up to his thawing heart. Though he didn’t linger any more on the handshake than he needed to, not wanting to make it uncomfortable for you.

But god, did he want to hold on forever.

[bellaslilpapercut]

Oh boy New Moon! I've got some Thoughts a brewin' babey:

1. Smeyer: you do not need to remind your audience what happened last book, they aren't stupid. Imagine if SC started catching fire with ANOTHER explanation of what the hunger games are and that's the vibe of the first chapters of new moon. We remember james, we know what vampires are, we know that Bella is white, stop reminding us!

2. Bella has the worst self esteem of all time. Every bad thing that has happened to her since the Van Incident has been Edward's fault but she still blames herself and idk if this is Intentional Insecurity or if smeyer is protecting edward's "character" or both but gdamn it's depressing.

3. The reason I said Jasper was Inconsistently Written jumped out at me again. Smeyer dedicated a whole paragraph to pointing out how terrible jasper is at the diet or whatever but in the guide, smeyer tells us jasper actively tried to starve himself in the past because of how difficult his gift made feeding. He was one of only two Cullens to show bella empathy, he smelled her blood before, why does he attack her? The weakness of this decision is pointed out in the exposition: if it really were likely that Jasper would attack Bella, she wouldn't have needed a superfluous paragraph dedicated to telling us how bad he is at self control. If the story had convinced us of that beforehand, we would have believed the attack without the addendum.

4. The party is my least favorite part of the whole series and I will die on this hill: edward should have attacked bella. Bella should have tripped into something glass and edward should have lost it because he tasted her blood before and couldn't help himself. That way: edwards self loathing makes sense and he's forced to recon with his superiority complex from the ending chapters of twilight AND bella's self blame makes sense. A vamp who was able to starve himself before he even heard of the cullens should not have lost it around someone he spent days in close quarters with, building rapport and friendship. Edward got too high and mighty after he fed from Bella in Twilight, that should have had real consequence.

5. The writing is getting a little better as we near Edward leaving. "Better" isn't a good word actually but it's getting closer to the prose in twilight (which was flowery and annoying but at least it didn't constantly feel like being spoonfed exposition every paragraph). Hm wrote this blurb while I was still on chapter 3 and the vibe of being spoonfed reminders has not really dissipated lmfao.

We remember Sam Uley, smeyer, you introduced him four chapters ago. Just quick question: did anyone proofread this?? I think it's fair to say: when she isn't reminding us of things that we remember the prose is more similar to twilight. A little annoying but interesting enough to forgive the errors (or at least move past them easily enough lol).

6. I'm on chapter 8 now (I'm gonna break this up into three parts so I don't forget stuff like I did during the twilight reread) and there's a very heavy Vibe that smeyer is setting Jake up to be a parallel for twilight-era Bella. This line here is a pretty clear parallel for Bella telling Edward not to hold his breath in Twilight when he tells her she might get tired of him.

7. This line here "almost happy in a shallow kind of way" really jumped out. What Bella's narration says about Jacob versus her conversations with him (and her one paragraph about his happiness being effortlessly contagious) are at odds. It doesn't read like shallow happiness when she's with Jake. However, Smeyer is also a bad writer, she thinks the story she's telling us is literally what the narration says and not what the action shows and I think she realizes this in Eclipse (but obviously I'm not there yet so I can't say for sure).

8. I really can't get over the drop in writing quality. I know that she had already mostly finished Forever Dawn by the time Twilight was published (or was halfway done, I think her website said she had over 300 pages of forever dawn complete when she found out Twilight was getting published). I think the writing quality really reveals that she was not prepared to write New Moon. It's sloppier than Twilight in a way I'm not able to articulate (by that I mean I personally have a more intuitive than technical understanding of grammar and syntax so I don't have the language to break down the differences). Twilight itself is ripe with technical errors and plot errors and awkward exposition so it's not an overt drop in quality but I think it very much reads like a rushed writing job. She was committed to forever dawn, her publishers wanted New Moon, it shows.

9. I think New Moon was when I first started physically editing my copies of the saga lol. Even reading it now I'm so tempted to open up a word document and cut half of the useless shit out and fix all the grammatical mistakes. I can't even talk shit because I am also a comma-abuser but I hoped an editor would at least catch the errors before publishing. Guess not! Brevity is very clearly not meyers strong suit and this would have been a much stronger sequel if she had been able to reign herself in a bit. New Moon isn't supposed to be as narration heavy as twilight, there's already more action in the first seven chapters than the there was in the first 19 of twilight but she always delivers exposition via awkward dialogue or Bella's narration. Again, we already got a lot of the exposition in twilight, we know how vampires work et cetera. You can show us how bella feels instead of making her tell us and the story would run a lot more smoothly.

10. I'll end on a nice note! Little treat!

This is my favorite part of the book so far. I whited-out the useless dialogue tag because the line reads better without it ( line originally ends with "I emphasized" but she could have been brief and just ended the dialogue with an exclamation point for the same effect). The dialogue is natural and shows the J/B relationship that lives in my head way better than anything else I've seen on the page at this point. Like, I literally love this line more than any dialogue that preceded it (including twilight) lol.

[freddyjoncs]

fox e. jones — ❝  Nobody move, there's blood on the floor and I can't find my heart ❞

full name: fox everett jones

city of birth: manhattan, new york.

date of birth: august 25.

zodiac sign: virgo

parents: fred and daphne jones

siblings: january jones

sexuality: bisexual

nicknames: n/a

face claim: manu rios ( voice: ryan philippe )

personality.

+, natural-born leader, calculating, collected -, cruel, arrogant, self-loathing

the bio below touches on many triggering topics. reader discretion is advised. *

background information.

fox jones is the perfect mix of foolish daydreams starring bad boys with twisted smiles and wicked laughs and old-style shotguns and nectar-burnt lungs. on the outside he’s presents the perfect image. one that the jones could be proud of. a golden son that daphne could dote on and a son to take the mantle of mystery inc from freddy as time had passed. To the outside world Fox is perfect but it’s far from the truth. Below the surface there’s a hurt person. someone who chooses to inflict pain on others to silence his own.

fox was born into the world of the underground crime scene. his father was a powerful mob boss in the streets of new york by night and a powerful lawyer by day. the graves his father had filled were unmatched. from young age fox was taught that people were disposable. they were just pawns to further yourself in the game of life. he was taught that he was disposable. his parents weren’t the kindest. his mother was a socialite by day, rubbing elbows with the high class women of society to get into their good graces ( and resources ) and at night she was just as awful and heartless as his father, pushing her kids past their limits and degrading them when failure struck. and the devil himself? well he had kids just to have a legacy. someone to do his biddings and maybe take over once he finally kicked the bucket. fox was just another one of his little pawns. if he didn’t live up to the expectation that were placed upon him there were plenty of others who could replace him. so fox worked hard to be the best, better than his brother and sisters. he refused to be thrown to the wayside. he was going to prove himself useless to his father one way or another.

in a way, fox believed if he was the best then his parents would pay attention to him. maybe they’d even love him. he’d be worth loving if he held value. 

he trained hard in martial arts & firearms. although, a knife was much more desirable to fox. he earned himself the name ‘lucky’ because whenever he was around deals ended in his father’s favor. which meant fox was kept around and closer. his siblings soon picked up on how their parents operated life as a business and progressed. they became just as deadly as fox. ruthless and terrifying. 

but fox? fox was pretty. a pretty bird that no one could ever be scared of. even with how deadly he was people would laugh whenever he entered the room of negotiations or interrogations. how could such an angelic face ever strike fear? he couldn’t -  not without a snide remark or a pass. so fox was put to use elsewhere. his skills and body were used in a way fox never imagined they would be but he did for the business. to be taken seriously and to be a good son in his father’s deck. i mean, his family had already taken advantage of him. why not others?

so he allowed himself to be used. if it meant it’d further his family’s success. his nickname still came through for his family time and time again every deal closing perfectly, and while the success was good it wasn’t enough for fox. he was tired of sitting being pretty with grabby hand old men who complained about their loveless marriages to their wives. he wanted to be part of it - not on the sidelines. 

he had overheard his father talking about a big deal that was going to take place in two days time. it was very much so a make it or break it moment for foxes family. it was also the perfect chance to show he was useful. if his plan went south and the deal failed it would end miserably but if it succeeded? Fox could only imagine the glory. he was able to pull a few strings to get himself into the door before his father. of course when fox stepped in he wasn’t taken seriously. why would they send in someone like him? Fox wasn’t as stupid as they dubbed him to be. he came to a drug deal with the goods to pay. the others decided to pull the tough gangster routine on him. insults were thrown and before they could pull the wool over fox’s eyes he had one upped them. they were all dead within seconds. underestimating fox was their biggest mistake. he was just about to finish off the big boss when a different gun shot off and killed the man before him. fox didn’t need to turn around to know it was his father holding the gun. he also didn’t need to turn around to know he was absolutely livid. 

the car ride home was silent, unsettling even. fox could only imagine how his father was going to reprimand him but when they stopped at a warehouse fox was left confused as to why they were brought here and not home. of course he was taught not to question so fox got out without a word. perhaps he should have questioned why they were here because before he knew it he felt a white hot pain on his back. He managed to get a small glimpse of his father beating him with a crowbar before all went black. He had gone against his father’s wishes and now he was paying for it. the fact he wasn’t dead was sympathy on it’s own but fox was left for dead in that warehouse. He didn’t know how long he was there for but after some time he mustered up enough course to try and seek out help.

wondering the streets of new york looking like he did wasn’t the smartest idea but it garnered the attention of fred jones. when asked if he was okay fox looked the man dead in the eyes and retorted ‘what do you think?’ and when asked if he had a home near by fox went silent.

he had no home anymore. no family. nothing. that alone was enough to have fred take him home. the man saw a lot of himself in the young boy before him: angry and afraid. fox protested and insisted he only stay a day or two until he figured something out. he didn’t need any handouts from strangers. even if they were wealthy strangers. but two days soon turned to a week, to five months and before he knew it fox was adopted into the jones family. it took him quite some time to adjust to a real family. fox was hesitant at first, brash and heinous towards them. it wasn’t until he spent alone time with daphne did fox feel like he belonged. there was no ploy, no gimmick, they actually cared for him. it was a feeling he wasn’t used to. he allowed himself to be loved and for the first time loved in returned. maybe not love, but he cared for the jones’ and saw them as his real family. it took some time but even his relationship with fred has come around. 

currently, fox is the new leader of the next generation of mystery inc. after spending time with his parents their love of the paranormal rubbed off on him. the fact fred wanted to pass the baton down to his son was a honor in it’s own. they trusted him. it’s not something fox took for granted. he also did modeling as well thanks to january. daphne’s love of fashion did indeed rub off on him. you’ll never catch him in a dull outfit. Compared to the life he used to live Fox was now in paradise. he was happy to let the old him die and be reborn into someone new. ( although the new him wasn’t so great either ). the last he heard of them it was that they were in jail. without his so called luck on their side they were finally caught but being incarcerated wasn’t enough for fox. no he wanted them to suffer the way they intended he did but that’s a whole bag of trauma fox refuses to acknowledge among other feelings he’s repressed. 

he was happy with his life, happy with his family and of course happy to make people miserable. his life was perfect until stefan mcqueen decided they would be friends. fox didn’t do friends but he found himself growing attached to the idiot. and of course when marcus teague decided to punch him in the face it left fox to develop something towards him. the anger and hatred he felt melted into something else. something that fox wishes would go away because he can’t like marcus.

let alone be in love with him.

but hey, it’s just another feeling getting shoved into a box never to see the light of day. 

social media.

[ latest tweet ] @foxjones: good morning [ image url ]

[ last outgoing text ] text to january god doesn’t respond why should i

[ most played song ] judas by lady gaga

connections.

mystery inc kids: he tolerates them. ( he loves them rly )

marcus teague: enemies to lovers tea

stefan mcqueen: they’re friends. he won’t admit it.

hadrian foxworth: actual enemy. hates him v much. memo to self to destroy him later

connections: hmu

his pinterest board // playlist

[whereflowersbloom]

Let me heal you

Jason Todd didn’t hate Bruce or Dick. Nah. Waste of valuable energy. In fact, Jason respected, dare he say even admired his ward and brother. What he despised were their inflexible morals, or rather his family forcing their morals on everyone else. Specially him. We don’t kill. Yes, yes. Fine. What exasperated him was when Bruce decided that his morals applied to everyone else that he took issue. Including the black sheep of the family. He didn’t precisely kill, he let himself go for a single minute. He lost it one time. Batman gave everyone unlimited chances at redemption, except the Red Hood. One mistakes and he’s exiled. In the end it didn’t matter. Nevertheless, he was aware that was not the reason he was angry tonight. No. It was entirely something else.

He could hear her anywhere he was, no matter what time of day or night, what state of sobriety or inebriation, critically wounded. In the dark dangerous streets of Gotham, the sparring ring with the smack of fists and bodies, between the breaths he took as he was falling into the arms of Morpheus. He could always hear Raven. Foolish. She was too far from him. He lived and painfully yearned for her. She was soft curves and he was hard edges. She was a fierce and magical Phoenix while he was a fucking jay with broken wings and a delirious mind. What a catch, Jason.

It drove him mad, how much it didn’t make sense, at all. A soldier wouldn’t fall asleep to a lullaby, but rather the drumbeats of wrath and screams of his opponents. But she was that, for in each beat of her heart Jason heard the call to arms. These complicated feelings, he didn’t remember when they started surging in him. He tried to sort out his feelings, even though he knew that would hurt worse than the burning pain emanating from his cracked ribs. Tsk. He could use a cig right this second.

She was probably at the Manor with Richard, staying in the guest room which was Coincidently next to his old bedroom. And here he was alone, in his modest studio apartment. The pain of his bruised and broken flesh and bones was nothing compared to that excruciating knowledge. Jason rubbed his palms over his weary eyes trying to calm himself. Attempt to dampen the burning rage that was about to send him to a dark place in his mind he didn’t want to think about. He had control. He couldn’t lose control over the voices. Feel the boiling anger, burning in his chest, squeezing his heart. Let the eternal agony that burned through his blood and singed his eyes an unnatural green color. He left that fucking bullshit behind. He loathed the Pit for taking his chance to offer her something...relatively normal.

Since Artemis and Bizarro were gone. Officially, Jason was on his own for the first time in a long while. As he pulled his arms up to finish bandaging his wounds, his shoulders stung and in a gasping breath Jason quickly dropped his arms. He was useless. The pain was worse today than it usually had been. Probably from all the previous battles against Black Mask and his personal army of mercenaries. They had become a pain in the ass. Perhaps a short visit to good Doctor Tompkins would have been a better idea. He cursed breathlessly.

A knock at the door was his only warning before he turned around to see her. Raven opening the door and striding in as if this was her room and not his. Not that this was the first time she sneaked into his apartment.

She was here. It wasn’t a vision or product of his imagination or effect of high dosage of painkillers. He swallowed hard as he found himself speechless, mind blank in her presence. With her dark cloak and hood down, serene expression and looking at him with intense amethyst gems.

He paid a high price after using the pit to have his life back and this anew tremendous strength. But there’s something else, something he’d never felt before. A pull in his chest, as though someone had tied a string to one of his ribs and it was tugging on it, gently but insistently, coaxing him towards her...She was his answer. For a half-demon goddess she was the closest thing to heaven to him. The wings of freedom.

“What is it?” Jason growled harshly. It wasn’t a threat. He simply didn’t want her to see him like this. In such a weak position that he couldn’t even patch up his own damn body. Those little bits of his bloody past stopped him from reaching out to her. What right did he have to ask her to love him despite everything? Indeed he paid a high price.

“Came here to gloat, little bird?” He spat poisonous words with a half smirk. Poisonous words and threats were all he ever had. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly, deeply, getting air into his lungs, refusing to be beaten by this, refusing to be anything less than civil and let her see right through him.

There was no answer. She watched him closely for a moment before slowly closing the distance between her and him. As if she was nervous that he would order her away. Like last time she had been here, her palm caressing his cheek with such tenderness he had forgotten it existed. Her breath was warm against his neck and he was dying to mutter ‘please stay’.

What a joke. Jason Todd. Unapologetically and insanely in love with the little Raven. A Titan. Each atom of his body breathed longing into the space between them, aching to be with her, love her as a whole as it should be. But with a fractured mind, chained with firm mania cuffs. So hateful and yet insanely in love with this creature capable of drowning him in his ashes.

“I came to offer my help healing you but if you don’t want then...” She studied throughly his figure for a solid minute but at his reaction, furrowed forehead formed a thin line. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to regain her elegant composure, taking a step back.

He quickly wrapped his hand around her wrist to stop her from leaving. It was our of instinct or his body ice cold starved for a ray of light. He kept his face clear of the pain his shoulders felt at the movement, but Raven’s eyes flickered to them. A flash of genuine worry. Why he couldn’t apologize and be a gentleman like the golden boy. Damn it. Manners Todd.

“Are you mad at me?” Raven asked serious. She twisted her body around to face him yet she didn’t pry her wrist from his grip that had gentled as soon as he halted her.

Did she want the truth? No. He was mad at himself for not fighting for her. For being weak. For his wickedness. For all his bullshit. But the beat in his chest was now pounding like a hammer against an anvil, erasing the other sounds around him. He could only focus on her.

“No.” Jason forced a chuckled though it lacked the usual mirth. “I’m not mad at you. Which is surprising considering we are usually infuriating each other every other day, sunshine. Missing me much?” Letting her go was far more unbearable than his cracked ribs. She continued staring at him deciding whether he was telling her the truth or guessing what game he was playing tonight.

He felt his body tense in anticipation of her answer. Did she miss him? Did she think of him as often as he did? He considered briefly sending her away though every fibre of his being rebelled against the action.

Raven knew she shouldn’t be here but yet she found herself coming anyway, despite her rationality telling her to run, to flee, to hide, to forget that she ever came here…But something deeper, something stronger, urged her forwards. She didn’t dare fight it any longer. Yes. She missed him every second since their last encounter. She bit her lip out of habit. She was a Titan and he was an outlaw. Different sides of the coin.

“Jason.” Her free hand stretched for his that had loosened from her wrist. His callouses scraped across her skin and she found herself enjoying the touch perhaps too much for her own good. She recalled the last time they made contact. First he gave into it like a malnourished kid offered a piece of bread, but then he rejected it unreasonably. So adamant on pushing her away. Not this time.

Raven let out a heavy and deep sigh.

“How long do you plan to continue this ridiculous dance? Running around in circles.” She asked him openly with a soft voice. Her heart seizing painfully tight in her chest.

As long as it takes for you to leave me, he thought to himself. No answer.

“Jason” Raven repeated his name until his eyes met hers, it was a combination of lake blue and cyan. Impossibly beautiful and perfect, usually brightening with amusement or laughter, slightly shadowed by regret. Except now they were dull with contained sorrow. Let me heal you. All the hurting parts of you.

“Are you ashamed of me? Is that why you reject me?” She spoke with a cracked voice and glassy eyes. Doubting her worth snd pride wounded.

What. No. No. Hell no. The least he ever wanted was to hurt her. His fists clenched with frustration. How could she ever think he was ashamed of her? He adored her with his broken and dammed soul. He was ashamed of himself.

“I’m not ashamed of you.” Jason said with a shake of his head. “I’m disappointed in my own weakness. I could never be whole...” He admitted out loud with the weight of his past deeds and his unpredictable future. He inhaled deeply as he ruffled his dark curls.

She narrowed her eyes in understanding, wetting her lips before speaking. “Jason. You’re stronger then you think. You can deal with this. Don’t let this ruin who you are and what we could have.” She whispered softly, words caught between mustered courage and steady resolve. Voicing the possibility of a ‘us’. There was no point denying their attraction at this point.

One moment he was standing there. Motionless. Then he was moving, moving towards her, closer, before he’s quite given his body permission to do so because he couldn’t just stand there and not hold her.

At that Jason stopped breathing for a moment and his eyes shot to her. He wrapped his arms around her frame, tightening a fraction. His eyes were filled with something Raven was unsure of how to describe even with her empathic abilities. It was a mixture of emotions she couldn’t keep up with. Something she’s seen in him before but no one else.

Surprise. Fear. Worry. But over all happiness. Yes happiness and divine peace.

He stared down at her, a rational protest rising in his throat, the terrified assertion that she can’t help him, she can’t put up with this side of him. The rage and the voices and his uncontrollable anger. But in her eyes he found the answer. She’d already made up her mind. As if she was saying ‘I choose you’. Him. The damaged not charming and righteous Dick.

She could feel Jason’s volatile emotions call to her, voice hoarse and raw from his injuries but distinct and sharp, piercing straight to her soul. Pleading with his spirit. “Please…Stay with me.” She automatically snaked her arms around his neck. Her touch. Merely touching her used to be enough but now he couldn’t get enough.

He had been terrified by what her touch had inspired in him at first, terrified of what he might be able to do to her body if she let him…The things he wanted ro do to her. But unable to stop thinking about it, craving it, his lips on her neck, his strong, hard body pressing hers into the wall of his apartment, not caring anymore about his own physical pain. He pressed a passionate kiss to her lips.

Jason had never believed in soulmates, that was folks tales for mindless romantics. This didn’t change his mind about the topic. One thing was certain, if there was a person whose edged fit his perfectly regardless of the roughness, that would be Raven. She was darkness herself but in his mind she was the sun encasing him in gentle warmth. The stars were meant to reflect in her eyes. If there was a heaven, Raven was the owner of his.

Small jayrae prompt for @alerialblu @ravenfan1242 @amaati @niahti @jasonrae117 @catyypss 💜💖

[acelucky]

I’m going to be on a little bit of a hiatus from Tumblr for a few days, I’m just exhausted mentally and physically. I’ve been ill, had very little sleep, helped my dad move house amongst other things.

The other thing is related to the football, I’ll keep this brief (I was going to write a much longer post but don’t have the energy). Here’s the thing, I am so excited and anxious about the game tonight! Whether England win or lose I’m proud of the team and the amount of joy/hope it’s brought the nation (especially kids) during this difficult time with the pandemic and everything else, has been incredible and a beautiful thing to witness.

Walking along the streets where I live there’s loads of flags, bunting etc. as well as loads of flags and football shirts coloured in by children, children’s messages of hope and love for football. I think that’s why some of the anti England football posts are getting to me and setting my anxiety off.

Generally speaking I find anti-English/anti-British posts/memes/jokes hilarious and I’m British. I reblog quite a few, I know how to take a joke, how to recognise context, take things with a pinch of salt and to go ‘fuck, I’m British and I hate us too’. Especially as a comedian you have to learn how to laugh at yourself and not get upset about everything or take it personally. 

However, the football posts (some of them) have really triggered my anxiety - on the train home from a comedy gig on Wednesday I started hyper-ventilating after England’s win and seeing some of the posts on here. I just felt so sad and panicky. This is the first time I’ve experienced this with those kinds of posts on tumblr/social media - again, usually I laugh/join in and reblog.

I know it sounds so silly, I’m 32 years old for god’s sake but it’s just affected me so much. I know why. I’m a massive football fan and more importantly a massive Portsmouth Football Club fan, I had a season ticket for years, I’ve been to Wembley with my dad numerous times and travelled to various grounds.

Football meant the world to me as a child/teenager when I was bullied mercilessly in school, when my mother died, when I was exposed to pretty serious mental health conditions etc. It was football at the weekend with my dad and brother that gave me hope, the footballers who made me smile and made me believe things would get better. I’ve even started to write a book on my love of Portsmouth FC/football in general.

It was being a fan of football that meant the boys in my year didn’t bully me and stood up for me. I won a trophy at a Easter Portsmouth FC football training thing for kids, I was the only girl there and it gave me so much confidence and made me believe.

Portsmouth FC did and do so much for the community, for charity etc. And that’s the thing, football is about community, it’s about coming together and being British it’s important to remember that football is (or at least was and still tries to cling to these roots) a sport of the working classes and accessible for all. 

During my gap year to New Zealand my dad made me pack my Pompey shirt so I had a piece of home with me - I also took my shirt to NZ when I was 14 and my photo of me inside bag end is in the shirt! Through wearing the shirt I met Pompey fans in NZ, USA & Oz, I made friends, football was like a universal language!

I remember crying when I was younger at world cups/euros when England lost, just as children will cry tonight regardless of who wins. But the child in me is so excited for tonight and I won’t apologise for that.

All of the above being said, I am so fucking cross at the England fans who are using the football as an excuse to act like hooligans, especially during a Pandemic when all restrictions haven’t been lifted. Of course there’s a long history in England (well Britain in general) of football and violence/gangs/hooligans, but that’s a story for another day,

I hate that some idiot fans boo the other nationalities national anthems. I hate that the English always drink too much and smash things up, get violent - they are an absolute embarrassment. I hate the fact that some England fans use football to mask their racism. It fucks me off so much as, as usual it’s the small percentage who ruin it for the rest of us, it’s these absolute cunts who make all England fans look bad - and again the most upsetting thing here is that a lot of the good fans are children, families etc. 

As always the players, sports commentators, ex players etc. have asked fans not to boo, asked them to be respectful and so on...and as always some won’t listen. I just hope it isn’t too embarrassing and that no one gets hurt etc. But judging by all the singing I’ve been hearing so far today and car horns (nothing wrong with either of those) and the embarrassing scenes outside of Wembley with people trying to storm the stadium without tickets...a chance would be a fine thing. 

But sat at home with my cat and husband, I’m so excited for the game, whether England win or lose I’ll enjoy it. If Italy win i’ll be so happy for them too. I’m taking a hiatus because I know whatever the score, Tumblr is probably going to become a bit of a cesspit of insufferable gloating or insufferable hatred. My mental health needs a break from all this noise and nonsense. Posts have just been setting off my anxiety too frequently and leaving me feel scared, inadequate, like I don’t belong, useless and experiencing self-loathing. So for a few days I choose to enjoy peace and just being with people IRL. 

Love, football chants and peace x

P.S. Yes I put It’s coming home in the tags, no I won’t apologise, it’s an absolute banger of a tune and associated with family, friends and a lot of happy/silly memories. 

[spicyfoodboi]

Request: Can I have s/o struggling with their self confidence in their relationship due not being able put much into it from quarantine? My top five bois are Tamaki, Shinsou, Todoroki, Bakugou, and Kirishima. If five is too many, take your pick! Thank you very much for doing this for me!

Quarantine blues

Genre: slight angst then fluff

Warning: mentions of self-doubt, self-loathing and body image issues

A hitoshi shinso, ejiro kirishima and tamaki amajiki x reader

A/n: so i know i usually try to get all the characters you guys request but i just kinda have a block and just want to rest so here we are doing only 3 characters. sorry anon! To make it up though, i made an effort to make it longer! Anyways, if you want me to continue on with the other 2, anon please dm me and i'll do it. Requests are open with 8 slots so please request anything! Without further ado, let's do this!

Hitoshi shinso

(credits to owner of this gif 😊)

Shinso has been gaming a lot more since the quarantine started, leaving you alone with your thoughts even though both of you live under the same roof.

He start to game early in morning to late at night.

You wouldn't even feel him slip into bed next to you.

That started to spark up negative thoughts inside your head.

Was he getting bored of you? Did he still love you? Maybe he wants the quarantine over so he could move out or even kick you out.

Those thoughts plagued you at night until that night you couldn't stand it anymore.

You started to cry yourself to sleep and it was getting more frequent,

It got to the point you were crying yourself to sleep every night.

One night, you were sobbing uncontrollably, tears streaming down your face when shinso ran into the room.

He heard your muffled sobs from the other side of the door when he went for a bathroom break.

He entered a room in a rush. Why were you crying? Did you hurt yourself?

When he saw you nuzzling your head into his pillow, chest heaving up and down, he felt his heart shatter.

He sat on the edge of the bed and started to comb his fingers through your (h/c) hair.

"what's wrong kitten?"

You sat up and started to rub the tears out of your eyes. You decided to just ask then apologize.

"are you bored of me? Because if you are, i'm sorry. I'll do better. i'll try to join you in games and get you the newest ones. Anything to get you to stay with me. i-"

You were cut off with a kiss by the purple haired boy, followed by a hug.

"don't ever think you need to do or buy something to get my attention. It's my fault that you feel like this and i'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. Let me make it up to you okay? I'll stop playing video games so much and just spend time with you."

He laid you down on the bed and settled next to you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder while his arms are around you.

"let's start with cuddling yeah?"

You nodded, letting his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

Ejiro kirishima

(credits to owner of this gif 😊)

During quarantine, kirishima would try to entertain himself with exercise and diet plans.

You were happy to join in,

At first it was for fun.

You were laughing and joking around as you did the work out routine.

One day, You decided to search up some of the models and training instructors on social media.

And boy, did that make you feel big.

You checked out a lot of photos, looking into the mirror in your room for comparisons.

Your thighs were thicker. Your arm fat was sagging. You had flab around your stomach.

You pointed out more and more things until you crumpled on the floor, crying.

More thoughts hit you like a train.

Once kirishima sees the comparison, he's gonna dump your fat ass. He's gonna feel how heavy you got during quarantine. He wouldn't accept a fat ass as a girlfriend.

So you started working harder.

Even without kirishima, you would still exercise,

He came into the living room, seeing you on your 4th 30 minute work out video.

That got him a bit concerned.

"(y/n)... Maybe you should take a break."

"it's okay kiri, i'm just bored."

You would just flash him a smile and get back to work.

You stopped eating big meals, opting for your boyfriend's protein drinks instead.

"have you eaten?"

"i had a protein shake this morning!"

During one of your exercise sessions, you started to feel lightheaded, you didn't realize you dropped to the ground with a thud.

Kirishima was working when he heard it. He ran out of the bedroom when he heard it and carried to your shared bed.

You woke up in comfier clothes and a worried kirishima looking over you.

"(y/n)... I told you not to exercise too much..."

"i'm sorry kiri. I just wanted to become thin for you..."

"Thin for me? Is that why you've been drinking my protein shakes as your food substitute? You don't need to do that (y/n)... I like you the way you are. You don't need to get thin."

He stood up and made you something to eat.

You finally let yourself finally eat something solid and relax into the pillows, netflix on with your boyfriend by your side

Tamaki amajiki

(credits to owner of this gif 😊)

Everyone knows about tamaki's anxiety.

The quarantine added a whole new level to that.

Anything could be a trigger for him to start panicking.

You tried your usual methods to calm him down but none of them work.

Didn't really want you stressed out when he's having a panic attack.

You never wanted him to freak out, it just feels like it's your fault that you can't help him.

Soon, voices of hatred started to whisper.

Why can't you just do something? You can't even help him. You're useless. Maybe if you were gone he wouldn't be having to worry about you all the time.

That day, you guys were both watching the news when news anchor announced the newest cases and there were so many.

He started to breath heavily and shake at the thought of you getting sick.

You tried calming him down with every method you could think of but nothing worked.

You crumbled besides him on the couch, hugging your knees and burying your head into them.

You started to sob and mutter out apologies every 5 seconds.

He was startled. He always knew you were the stronger one in your relationship.

He steps up to comfort you.

"t-tamaki i-i'm sorry i-i c-can't he-help you-"

He places his hands on your shoulders so you could look up.

"it isn't your fault. That isn't your responsibility either. You being with me is more than enough. Let me take care of you for once."

He took you in his arms and hugged you until your sobs turned into sniffles.

These were one of the longest hcs i ever written and i'm proud hehe 😊 i love everything about these, hope you guys do too! Requests are open with 8 slots so go on! Request something. Thank you guys so much for reading, love you guys 😊😘

My rules | masterlist 1 | masterlist 2

[razorblade180]

The NaruSaku post

@perfectkidalienpatrol asked me a two questions a couple weeks ago one about restructuring Kingdom Hearts DDD and 3 to be more emotional which you find right here < [it took time, please read. Also leave a reply on this one because it also took way too much time. Thank you 😅]

The second question is about how I would write NaruSaku, which is this post. [I rewatched 60 percent of Naruto Shippuden for this. I’m not playing games here.]

I’m gonna follow the same rules I did for KH more or less. I’m not changing 90% of any major events just certain people surrounding it and I’ll add stuff that’s not unreasonable. Most of the things I’m about to say is gonna be from Sakura’s perspective since Naruto is already in love with her and have a good of his feelings towards her. I’d also like to take a moment and say I’m a person who doesn’t believe Sakura is weak or useless, but she’s sorely underused. What makes this bad is her screen time is almost always to make others around her have more of an effect or her doing something stupid because plot. Okay, let’s get the big stuff out of the way first that lays the ground work.

Part 1 of Naruto is unchanged. (Rip Sakura, she’s still of no use here.)

The start of Shippuden, all the way up to Pain is basically the same. The thing about NaruSaku is there’s plenty of ground work in the show. The series definitely shows Sakura warming up and caring about Naruto in a variety of ways. The entire blueprint is there, Kishimoto just decided to go with Hinata.

During the Rasenshuriken training, Kakashi grabs the food pill basket from Sakura and tells her stay. Since Naruto’s training is more trial by fire and repetition, Kakashi uses his free time to train Sakura. Combat, a little ninjitsu, even tricks about genjutsu and things he’s learned about sharingan. (You know, sensei stuff)

Neji will live for obvious reasons.

Okay, so my whole thought process really starts at the point in the show where Sakura falsely tells Naruto that she loves him. At this point, the show has given tons of scenes of Sakura healing Naruto, defending the way he is, acknowledged his growth, and has him as a strong motivator do whatever she can whenever she can. All while being emotionally torn because of her love for Saskue and being faced with the reality that Naruto has been in love with her forever. The scene plays out the same with Naruto not believing her and the Saskue murder team leaving. Sakura doesn’t let it show she is deeply conflicted about telling that lie. Was it a lie? It certainly wasn’t completely truthfully. Her thoughts and feelings on Naruto had been rapidly changing and confusing her little by little since he returned to the village. All she was certain of was that Naruto was a person that had become very important to her and she didn’t want to cause him any more suffering.

Fast forwarding to Sakura encountering Saskue, the encounter is only different by Sakura confessing her honest feelings to him right on the iron bridge, telling him how she’ll join his side if he can’t find it in himself to stop being a criminal. She’s unknowingly under a genjutsu that’s letting Sakura see him in front of her, pretending to care about this conversation while he’s actually about to chidori her from behind. Sakura catches on to the trick a bit too late but was fortunately saved by Kakashi. Naruto eventually shows up, the fight happens, and we get the scene where Naruto tells Saskue that they well both die the next time they fight. Two very important things come out of this entire event. The first is Sakura’s feelings for Saskue are now shattered after he tried to kill her twice, while the other thing is Sakura’s fear of Naruto’s prediction coming true.

We get back to the village and everyone starts going their separate ways except for Naruto and Sakura, because she tells him to stay back for a moment. She takes this moment to apologize to him for what she said. The guilt about the entire thing builds more and more as she continues her apology until Sakura gets so frustrated with her own actions, or lack of action. Naruto interrupts her apology before she got too far gone into self loathing and sorrow and tells her that it’s okay. Yes, his promise is a big reason for motivating him but Naruto is also in it for himself and tries to lift some of the guilt Sakura has for all of this. In the process he ends up mentioning just how much she actually does for everyone, especially him; which only makes her feel more conflicted about everything since all of his feelings are on the table clearly for her. Sakura mentally decides she having such a kind person like him always supporting her was something she wasn’t close to being worthy of, so she would strive to be that person. Sakura decides to do one more selfish act though, she asks Naruto to stay alive through all of this. Naruto simply looks at the girl that is clearly concerned about all of this and says yes, despite not knowing just how sure he can keep this promise.

At this point in the anime there’s a lot of war preparations. In one scene there’s Sakura looking at photos of the gruesome tragedies that she should expect to see as a medical ninja. A head nurse also explains how sometimes you have to prioritize who to save. Sakura then thinks to herself in a crazy circumstance where both Naruto and Saskue are fatally wounded, who would she rush to? I’m keeping this scene but giving it new context. This thought plagues her mind not because of love, but because desire. Sakura hates to admit it but she still very much hates the idea of Saskue dying. Like Naruto, she very much wants him to come back, regardless of the heartache she feels whenever she thinks about the boy who barely gave a damn. But Sakura also has made the goal to do all she can to support Naruto the right way and the thought of leaving him to die is ludicrous. Sakura shakes off the crazy thought and focuses on the task at hand. None of those ideas matter if she can’t get stronger. I like the idea of her hitting a rut someone like Ino or Shizune coming to her aid since Tsunade is busy. One of the women reinvigorates her drive by telling Sakura how Naruto is probably pushing himself to the limit as they speak. [Nine tails is beating him up] Not just for his friends, but for the world. Sakura takes that to heart, protecting everyone is the bar, not just Naruto and her friends. Sakura decides now would be a good time and take a step back, going off to train by herself until it was actually time to head into war. Kakashi would personally be the one to get her when that time came, surprised to see a very specific part of their previous training had gotten much better along with her chakra control.

On the Naruto side of things, all the same events happen. The only thing I would add for my own personal amusement would be Naruto mentioning Sakura to his mom and how they’re similar, but Sakura has no interest in him. Kushina laughs and tells him if Sakura really is anything like herself then Naruto can’t be too sure of anything until it happens. He doesn’t understand that all but nods anyways.

War starts! All the cool fights happen and the filler. All of this is same obviously because so much is going on, including injuries. Naruto eventually joins the war and sends his clones to help everywhere. The location where Sakura is stationed is under severe condition, to the point it’s about to fall apart. Injured ninja and attacks have relentlessly assaulted the place in one form or another and the medics are running on fumes. Sakura herself is barely hanging on as another wave of injured people are in desperate need of healing. Supplies are diminished to almost nothing, staff has gotten hurt, and more white zetsu were said to be headed their way. Sakura took a moment to look at the chaos of war. The overwhelming feeling of it, the pain, how everything just kept going until something gave out. She was about to give out. Her body exhausted from being up for days treating people was finally catching up with her mind in thinking about shutting down, until she thought about Naruto. She wasn’t sure why she did, but he popped into her head, as well as the numerous times he’s pushed passed the breaking point to the finish line. Then she remembered his praise about her and her vow to catch up with him. Not yet, she couldn’t be done yet. Not while there was still everyone to protect. Sakura rallied the people she could to both attack and defend what they had left. Somehow, through all the madness, the injured had been treated and another wave was taken out. More had to be done and all who were able to move were more than willing to help the ninja that had saved their life. Unfortunately, a zetsu had snuck into the ranks and was heading right for Sakura who was far to tired to defend herself from the attack she saw coming. If she got hurt then it was game over for this unit and her, now that they had basically nothing. Sakura should’ve died on the spot but a Naruto clone had finally arrived in the nick of time, beating the zetsu in an instant. Sakura couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her body gives out and Naruto catches her in a similar way Minato catches Kushina. Naruto tells everyone how awesome it was that they held out so long and they rightfully give Sakura a majority of the credit. Naruto starts to tell her how amazing that is but she passes out. He simply chuckles and tells all of them to follow her lead. He’ll step in now and let them rest. It’s his turn to protect everyone.

The next time the show cuts back to this location is when reports of Naruto clones suddenly vanishing after many tremors and explosions have happened, giving Sakura an uneasy feeling. Minutes later word reaches them that the real Naruto is fighting the masked man and Madara. Many ninja from everywhere go ready to race off to this final battle. Sakura’s had the chance to rest and is ready to give her all in any way she can, along with so many others.

[Cool shit happens! The allied shinobi force appears!]

Neji gets injured protecting Hinata and Naruto, bringing him right to deaths door and nobody is around to help him. Naruto looks around to see all the death and destruction that leads to Obito into giving his speech. So basically I just changed this scene from Neji being dead, to Neji dying and having to be left there; causing everyone to simply accept that they have to press on and that Neji isn’t going to make it. We still get the moment of Hinata snapping Naruto out of despair and Kakashi’s elaboratetion on his meaning behind the statement “I will not allow my comrades to die.” That way we still get Kurama motivating Naruto, causing Naruto to snap Lee out of his despair and then outcome plays out like it usually does; the people rallying to attack the ten tails again with the Nine Tails Power given to them. Naruto spends up all his chakra protecting everyone and gets badly injured. I had forgotten Sakura literally gave a speech to motivate ninja to do their best protecting him while she healed him, so that was nice to see.

The Hokage show up. People are hyped. Minato asks Naruto if that’s his girlfriend, to which Naruto says yes like the goofy fool he is. Sakura still hits him for it, but blushes. Minato clearly sees a lot of Kushina in Sakura, but says vocally, instead of in his head. Naruto thinks about his conversation with his mom. Sakura just tries to stay focus.

Tiny Rant-I can’t wrap my head around why this scene actually exists. This happens after Neji’s death, a cornerstone event that pushes NaruHina greatly. Why would Kishimoto almost immediately swing back in the exact opposite direction! It paints the picture that while Naruto is extremely grateful for Hinata’s actions, Sakura is still the only girl he is interested in! Neji died for NaruHina like five minutes ago!

Saskue shows up like a cool guy. We get the moment of Naruto telling Sakura to stay back after he’s fully healed; to which Sakura tells both of them how that’s not gonna happen. Team 7 is back! Another moment I don’t have to change because the show flat out shows how happy Sakura is to be standing next to the two most important men her life. She’s by their side and fighting, they don’t feel out of reach. Sakura has her team back for once and is protecting everyone thanks to Tsunade’s training. Finally, things feet right. Until they don’t.

The battle progresses naturally. Eventually the Kagoshima show up, Obito becomes a Jinjuriki, Madara is being terrible, etc. Things are spiraling out of hand pretty quickly but everyone keeps pushing as hard as they can. Then the worst happens, the crazy scenario Sakura didn’t think was possible has suddenly became reality. She feels both Naruto and Saskue’s chakra fade away, they’re down. Madara has taken both of them down. However, now isn’t time to despair on that fact. Every second matters. Two people, fatally injured, only enough time save one. The one she promised to protect to protect, or the one she desired to come back home. Time feels like it’s come to a stand still. Sakura didn’t want to imagine a world without either of them, then it hits her instantly. Sakura has been living in a world without Saskue for years now, but Naruto, the agony of a world without him gives her an immense sorrow in her heart she refused to ever feel again. It was the same sorrow she felt when Saskue left that night years ago. The sorrow of the one you love leaving you. Sakura realizes that she does in fact love Naruto, and she isn’t about to let it fade. She will keep her promise. Sakura rushes to go save him, fearing she’s wasted enough time as it is. In actually, Sakura had made that decision in less than second. She had been running his way the moment his chakra stopped.

With the help of Gaara and Minato, Sakura is managed to save Naruto. Minato has been watching the worry the girl tried to hide and stared again how much she was like Kushina. He then thanks her for looking after his son. Sakura corrects him, giving Minato thanks for bringing someone who cares so much about her and support her into this world, despite the many slip ups and pain she has inflicted on Naruto. Minato tells her that he didn’t have to be around long to know his son must feel same sentiment towards her, if not greater. They get informed that Saskue has been recovered and receiving medical aid. Sakura feels a weight lift from her shoulders. Both of them, she still in a world with both of them.

[More craziness happens! Night Guy!!!!!! All the hype stuff!]

Naruto and Saskue are back in action! Naruto save Guy, then he gives Kakashi an eye. Everyone is impressed, but not as impressed as the moment he senses that Neji isn’t dead yet and heals him to the point he’ll live; Neji is still completely out of commission though, but it’ll be quite the surprise for Hinata, her father, and Team Guy.

More of the same stuff happens all the way up and through Kaguya. Sakura gets a little bit of emotional whiplash by Saskues actions. One minute he’s looking out for himself, the next he’s actually saves her from a threat. It’s a very confusing couple of minutes. It’s welcomed though, it’s like old times. Things just might get back to some since of it in Sakura’s eyes.

[He is so rude! Still love him though.]

Now we’re gonna skip to after Kaguya is beaten. Team 7 has saved the world. Now they just have to release the people, except Saskue is still on his nonsense. Naruto confronts Saskue about his plan to kill the Kage. Sakura could feel her heart sink. They were going to fight again. If that happened then Naruto’s prediction might come true, they would die. Naruto would die. Sakura couldn’t stand still and ran in between the two unexpectedly. Sakura pleaded to Saskue to just stop for once in his life. That if he ever cared about her and Naruto in any form, then the fighting would stop here; reminding him of what Naruto said about dying. Saskue takes a step closer and Sakura’s tearfully eyes hardened. This wasn’t going to be like last time. Sakura wasn’t going to hesitate to use force and Saskue could tell. “You really are annoying.” He says before activating a genjutsu, but it doesn’t work on her. This was it, the exact thing her training with Kakashi and by herself had been about. Constant days of intense chakra control and being trapped in various visual genjutsu that Sakura had to learn resist/breakout of. Saskue had made his answer clear, but Sakura refused to let him dismiss her like that and charged at him. She knew she was outmatched. She knew that there was only so much she could actually do against him, but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying. Sakura was going to stand up properly to Saskue and give everything she had to prevent an unavoidable fight. The fire in her was immense, but the fight was over in no time, ending with Saskue knocking her out from behind like when he first left her behind. Naruto was pissed and Kakashi rushed to her. All that effort and pleading from someone who wanted nothing more than to be by her comrades, tossed to the side like a leaf in the wind. The final confrontation had begun. Naruto vs Saskue.

[One exceptional fight 10/10 fight later]

Sakura has woken up and is racing to the Final Valley in absolute terror, along with Kakashi behind her. He didn’t show it but he was fearing the worst as well. He could see tears fly off of Sakura as she took off. Her mind was flooding and rejecting thoughts all at once the whole way there. All she wanted was the reality of the outcome. Whatever it was, she’d have to face it. What she faced was a miracle. The ability to save both of her friends who were definitely battered and broken, but alive. The fighting was finally over. Saskue apologized to her, noticing just how angry she stil was through her tearfully relieved expression. Sakura told him to shut up. The emotional rollercoaster she was dealing with was crazy enough as it is.

Fast forward to Team 7 at the Hidden Leaf Gate to see Saskue leave. Instead of Sakura asking to join, she walks up to him with confidence, giving both a playful and serious attitude. She holds her fist out and taps his chest. “Get into trouble and I’ll stand in your way again to knock the sense back into you.” Naruto’s jaw drops hearing that. Saskue smile then flicks her forehead. “Still annoying, thank you.” Sakura can’t help but smile back. Naruto gives Saskue his old headband and then the man sets off.

Naruto lets out a huge sigh as he walks back into the village with Sakura. He feels exhausted from the whole legal experience but there was more things to be done, but first, he was starving. He started waving goodbye to Sakura until she asks to go too, offering to pay. Naruto was shocked. His ears had to be playing tricks. He turned back around to see Sakura not directly looking at his face but she clearly talking to him. He could tell her face was a little pink too. “You know, like a date...” Sakura said, walking past him. Naruto stood motionless for a couple of seconds before catching up with her. “How about we go halfies?” Naruto asked. He had asked this same question when he asked her on a ramen date so long ago. Sakura remembers this and can’t help but giggle. The fact that she had rejected such a gesture before was embarrassing to say the least, now it was too her benefit and it was still dumb. The more things change, the more they stay the same. “It’s a date.”

The the tail end of the show where time skips gives us how they continued to grow closer and do these little dates until the moment Sakura tells Naruto that she loves him one moonlit night by the training field or academy swing. This time those words are real, and Naruto gets emotional because he finally gets to say those words back, their promises fulfilled. The final episode is their marriage. The start of their new and strongest promise to each other.

There, I’m done. In summary, what if Sakura stopped liking a person because they tried killing her and everyone she cared about. You know, sane people stuff. She’s a smart girl with critical thinking skills and able to blossom in many areas in her life, and yet the series didn’t let her fully exlpore or evolve it in the one area that arguably mattered the most. How her relationships with Naruto and Saskue. They left it one note even though many scenes and articles point into the direction of her affection towards Naruto was growing. They even paralleled her with Kushina. It’s so weird to lay all that ground if that isn’t the route. Those moments of romantic growth could’ve gone to Hinata, the one with nearly zero interaction throughout the series. I can only think of four scenes, two of them being in part 1 of Naruto. It’s weird.

Side note:If anyone is having a hard time believing Sakura could learn a way to resist genjutsu, Deidara did it with one of his eyes to deal with Itachi, and also didn’t fall of Saskue’s. You can not convince me Sakura wouldn’t learn a way, someone with far more control and an affinity for that kind of thing. Especially with the help of Kakashi. Also it’s just very thematic that the two people Saskue wanted to push away the most, could see right through him and render one of his major things useless.

[szivtalan]

character ask: kagami, momoi, alex and himuro 👀👀👀

!!! omg thank u Ceru! u might be one of my favorite mutuals <33 (putting this under a read more just so I can speak at lengths about each individual character)

Why I like Kagami: this is where I sarcastically ask “why DON’T i like him” but that’s literally the next question so; he’s everything i want to be and more. He has the determination and the willpower to make his own dreams come true, he’s gay as shit, he’s tall and buff and well-adjusted, mature enough to live on his own at an annoyingly young age, he’s funny and dumb and a total himbo as well as an excellent advisor bc of how grounded he is.

Why I don’t: I’m... not really good with explosive people. Violent men with loud voices especially scare me, and I’d think I’d flinch around him a lot and that would make me rlly anxious.

Favorite episode: it’s a toss-up between the Seirin fam visiting his place for the first time (is it where Kuroko confesses his love to him and then passes out in his arms? idk), and the onsen episode. I also loved all his plays against Kise and Aomine. AND the training camp w him running a lot in the sand.

Favorite season/movie: season 2 probably because he’s not a jerk anymore, but he’s still on his way to shed off any asshole behavior stuck to him. And I actually liked Last Game?

Favorite line: “There’s no such thing as useless effort.” and “This is our drama and we write the plot.” because he’s so ridiculous.

Favorite outfit: all of his casual fits... comfy but manly is my Jam

OTP: AoKaga....they’re truly soulmates, star-crossed lovers, canonically brought together by fate.

Brotp/otp no. 2: KagaKuro, I love them

Head Canon: I have several collections because I think too much about this boy, but here’s something I think about his family: he doesn’t know what happened to his mom. He never asked, because it wasn’t relevant, and he didn’t want to inconvenience his dad by questioning him. Occasionally, as a kid he felt like he was missing out on something (seeing other kids with their moms, feeling like they’re being treated with much more gentle care because they have moms), but as he grew older he realized that nurturing behavior shouldn’t have been limited to only a mother, and that he was just straight up neglected without any regards to missing a parent in his life.

Unpopular opinion: I never realized this was an unpopular opinion but I’m glad he went back to America at the end of Last Game. Obviously, it’s sad that he had to separate from the others, but I felt like Japanese basketball has always been just a stepping point to him, and now that he’d beat the best of them, it was time to move on. And it also warms my heart that him getting scouted in the US gave Aomine hope to aim big, too. I felt like both of them would’ve felt trapped in Japan with their skill sets.

A wish: I want him to be happy and gay and to confront Himuro and tell him how hurt he was by how he treated him and probably do the same to his dad too

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: ....whatever I’d say Shinsun has probably written it/will write it, but I don’t want him to forget about the GoM just because he becomes a world-famous athlete.

5 words to best describe them: sweet child with anger issues

My nickname for them: not mine (it’s Sypha’s) but “Kags”, Kagami, Tigerboy, Kagababe, Baby

Why I like Momoi: she is SO nurturing and sweet and she cares so much about her boys!! I’m sorry it always turns into “how they remind me of myself” but actually I get feeling like a background character and being the moral/emotional/physical support of those who are more talented or in any way better than you. I feel a strange kind of kinship with her and also,,, feminine girls make my heart stop, and it doesn’t get more feminine than Momoi. Added: Aomine aside, the Touou team wouldn’t worth shit without her skills tbh, and she’s not in any way less than the GoM. Also, I appreciate her being the one person to try to keep their friend group together.

Why I don’t: Analytical People Scare me like!! how do u know stuff people are Unknowable!! I usually am also irked by her pointing out Riko’s breast size but I can just pretend that’s in a gay way (maybe Momoi likes girls with small boobs and she’s just bad at flirting) (also I don’t exactly liked her calling Aomine a “ganguro” but I have too little knowledge on the use of this word to say exactly why)

Favorite episode (scene if movie): uh the one where Aomine made her cry? It really came through how much love she actually has for her friends at that one.

Favorite season/movie: she was great in all of them!!

Favorite line: I can’t remember the exact quote and Google isn’t really helpful either but the one where she made Kuroko promise they’ll always play together or something? Or that they’re gonna beat Aomine?? idk?

Favorite outfit: I like all of them but mostly I just appreciate her wearing so many hoodies, she looks so cute in them

OTP / Brotp: it’s both AoMomo. I feel like the have the most special and strongest bond in the entire series.

Head Canon: She’s never been shown to do, but I feel like she wears Aomine’s clothes a Lot. Also, they definitely have sleepovers To This Day.

Unpopular opinion: Momoi is good at basketball and she loves playing!!! But try being successful in it when ur opponents are Giants and Way More Buff than you are

A wish: I wish people appreciated her more!! Both in fandom and in canon. She’s an amazing person and she has her own skills and strengths that are rarely explored or even mentioned anywhere.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: her falling out with her boys ;-; I do not want that

5 words to best describe them: strawberry sweetheart to steal ur heart

My nickname for them: Satsuki :> I feel like it’s a little too much to call characters on their first names sometimes but hers is so cute I can’t

Why I like Alex: yet again another woman with an extensive skill set. I love her persistence and again I appreciate getting disillusioned and finding your way back to the thing you love. Also it’s just sweet that she did that by teaching (again, something I can relate to)

Why I don’t: the whole “kissing children” thing rubbed me the wrong way but again, just like Momoi’s obsession with comparing breast sizes, it’s just bad/sexist writing from Fujimaki probably

Favorite episode (scene if movie): adshg any and all where she expressed that Himuro and Kagami are equally important to her <33 that shit makes my heart burst

Favorite season/movie: she only appears towards the end of s2 and in s3 so... I guess s3?

Favorite line: its so Bad that u literally can’t find the iconic quotes of these iconic ladies anywhere but... her story on finding her passion again through teaching kids, and anytime she mentions her fondness of Kagami and Himuro.

Favorite outfit: her iconic olive green coat with the short red shorts... wtf was that I loved it.

OTP: she doesn’t really interact with people her age but I’ve heard she’s shipped with Masako Araki and I’ve seen some seriously good fanarts and like... Yes Good I’d Love To See It

Brotp: I feel like her and Himuro would be that sassy pair that Kagami tries and fails to contain and they get into all sorts of weird, absurd situations asdjs what I’m trying to say is Kagami has to bail them out of jail from time to time

Head Canon: fck me if I’m wrong but she’s the lesbian single mom of the two gay kids she reluctantly adopted from the streets

Unpopular opinion: it’s more like another headcanon, but she can dunk and she taught Kagami how to do it.

A wish: I’d love her to coach the Seirin fam more!! Pls let her be part of her children’s lives (she could also judge streetball games between the goms it would be fun)

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: anything about her being romantically involved with her pupils makes me.................no

5 words to best describe them: Beautiful Beach Blonde Basketball....goddess

My nickname for them: Alex!! sometimes An Icon

Why I like Himuro: em dash Asdgsdj I’m joking, I’m becoming more and more fond of the boy. Once I realized that he shouldn’t have been the “bigger person” in that situation and one year doesn’t really mean much when you’re that young and that hurt, I realized he’s actually a good and hard-working kid and I’m sorry for giving him so much shade. Also I really like his snark and sass, but that might not even be canon at this point tbh

Why I don’t: I’m still sort of irked by him beating down on Kagami because he was envious/mad, but I realized the aspect of that situation that Really got to me was how devoted Kagami still was to him after all that. That devotion was what felt toxic, nothing that Himuro actually did to him.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): the time they met up w Kagami just to exchange a dramatic socially distancing bro fist and a few encouraging words.... gays be Like That

Favorite season/movie: I really didn’t mind s3 Himuro

Favorite line: apparently he’s said some iconic stuff that I don’t remember (and my sources don’t seem really legit) but I’m gonna say “let’s see you become number 1, bro” because again, that’s just so ridiculous and endearing. On one hand he really went from loathing Kagami to rooting for him and wanting him to reach his full potential and on the other, honey ur  like 17 stop speaking like That

Favorite outfit: his knitted V-neck sweaters and the black coat with the white fur.... boy’s got all the fashion sense that’s missing from Kagami

OTP: can I say.....AoHimu asdfh I ship 3/4 of these characters with Aomine what does that say about me

Brotp: KagaHimu. They can be sweet, but I’ve only ever seen Jake write them really well

Head Canon: I’ve been entertaining the idea of....trans Himuro.....

Unpopular opinion: everyone thinks that Kagami is the violent kid and Himuro is the chill, sweet child who’s somehow wound up with this mess of a fiery tiger, but it’s actually Himuro who taught Kagami how to fight and Kagami learned quite a lot of aggression from him

A wish: I feel like Himuro should’ve gotten a separate episode to explore his thoughts, feelings and past. He had so much potential as a character Is2g

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: him quitting basketball would fucking destroy me. I’d be devastated for others too, but it would really pull on my heartstrings if he just dropped the only thing he’s been so passionate about.

5 words to best describe them: gender-non-conforming emo child

My nickname for them: Himu, Tatsuya, Tatsu

[queenof-literature]

I know that you just posted your Rito story and I loved. I can't wait for more! I noticed it mentioned Wild blushing when asked to sing one of Kass's song. I am pretty sure it's Kass's final song, and thought it would be cute if one of the other Links hears Wild singing under his breath (maybe while cooking) and the story and song get dragged out of him.

Hi! Thank you so much! I wasn't quite sure what you meant by song and story, but I used Kass' final song with the story of Wild's death and the story with Kass' teacher, so it got a little angsty. I hope that all is okay. If not, please let me know and I wil l write a different one! Thank you for the request!

It had been a rough day. The group had landed in Hyrule’s land, and had instantly been attacked by groups of monsters with insane amounts of bloodlust. Luckily, there weren’t any injuries that couldn’t be fixed with a potion or two. Some scrapes here, some sprained ankles there, physically they were fine. But they were absolutely exhausted.

Wild was making a hearty stew for his friends before they turned in early that night. Four was leaning against a tree, book in hand. Warriors and Legend were playing a weird card game that involved slapping each other’s hands as hard as possible while Wind and Hyrule watched and made fun of them both. Time and Twilight were chatting and laughing softly, while Sky was already dozing off on a tree near Four’s. Overall, it was a tired peace that made Wild’s heart swell.

He never really got this peace before he met the other heroes. It was always sleeping in trees away from monsters, or riding through the night to discover new shrines, or pushing forward to save Zelda and other villages infected by the Calamity. This was peaceful, something that Wild wasn’t used to, but didn’t really hate like he thought he would when he first met them.

“For fierce and deadly trials await. To regain his strength. Fulfill his fate.” Wild didn’t really notice when he began to sing softly as he was stirring his stew. He also didn’t notice the rest of camp slowly getting quiet, or Four elbowing Sky in the ribs. His eyes had grown distant as he continued to sing softly. “To become a hero once again. To wrest the princess from her den.” The rest of the Links looked at each other silently. Wild had a pretty voice from what they could hear. Pretty in a way that it was unique, and rough from lack of use, but also soft and comforting. He almost looks like he doesn’t notice what he’s doing. Should they tell him? 

“The hero, the princess-hand in hand-Must bring the light back to this land.” Wild finished just as soft as he began, like he had sung the song millions of times before. But he realized he felt eyes on him. He looked up to see the entire camp staring at him, even Sky, all with confusion and a bit of awe. Oh dear Hylia. Wild yanked his hood up to find his bright red face as he realized what he had done. ‘I am so sorry.’ Wild signed ‘Sometimes I do that without noticing. I didn’t mean to interrupt you all I promise. I’ll stop. Just let me know when I do it in the future, sorry I just didn’t notice-’ Twilight and the rest of the boys had gathered around Wild, but still gave him space. Twilight gently put his hands over Wild’s. He didn’t like doing that if he didn’t have to, Wild sometimes expressed himself only through sign and he never wanted to get in the way of that. But if he let Wild continue too far, he would spiral into a dark place where it was harder to pull him from. All of the Heroes of Courage had that issue. Sometimes it was better to stop the train of loathing and questioning before it got too far off the track. 

“Don’t apologize about what you do while you make us dinner, Cub” Twilight teased gently, taking his hands off of Wild’s. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, we all got our habits. Besides, ya got a pretty singin’ voice.” Twilight smiled, while Wild simply flushed further into his hood, at this point his face was the most red thing Twilight had ever seen.

“Yeah Wild! I knew you would have a pretty voice!” Wind exclaimed. The group couldn’t see Wild’s eyes at all, but they could see his lips twitch upwards slightly at the younger’s enthusiasm. 

“Ummm… thank you.” Wild said softly, still not coming out of his hood. 

“Can you sing us the whole song? If you’re comfortable of course.” Wind asked hesitantly. He wanted to hear the rest of Wild’s song, but he didn’t want Wild to feel forced into anything. The group looked at Wind in slight shock. They hadn’t expected anyone to ask the blatant question no one else wanted to ask, but Wind was good at that. The shy boy somehow managed to get even more flustered, his face so red he looked like he was about to explode. 

“W-well.” Wild was slightly stuttering again, not that the group minded. It wasn’t just nerves, Wild couldn’t talk very well when the group first found him, so he mostly signed like he did to others in his Hyrule that needed help. Through sign, they discovered that he was actually very witty and fun, but it turns out not using your voice for more than a hundred years and having rough scars around your neck made it a little hard to talk.

“My voice isn’t very good, maybe Kass could sing it to you? It’s better with the accordion anyway.” Wild said nervously.

“Your voice is very good Wild!” Sky urged. 

“If you’re okay with singing it we don’t need the music Wild.” Time stated. “But no one's forcing ya. We would love to hear it, but only if ya want to sing it.” Wild pondered these words. Ever since he started talking verbally again, he tried to push himself out of his silent shell with help from the other heroes. Maybe singing was the next step? 

Once again, Wild felt weak. He could take down entire camps of monsters, defeat Calamity, and kill Guardians with a single ancient arrow to the eye, but he couldn’t talk to people properly. He had relayed those thoughts to Twilight before, how useless he felt sometimes that he could be strong except in the face of normal, everyday people. Twilight had told him that it was perfectly okay, and that everyone had their struggles and fears, but Wild still felt stupid sometimes. 

“I guess… If you really wanna hear it…” Wild emerged from his hood slightly. Maybe it would prove he wasn't as weak as he thought? Wind cheered and put his head in his hands, waiting. The rest of the group smiled, and Twilight patted his arm for encouragement. 

“An ancient hero. A calamity appears. Now resurrected after 10,000 years”

The other heroes are surprised when Wild starts singing. It’s still soft, and it’s still rough, but Wind is right. Wild’s voice has a nice comfort in it.

“Her appointed knight, gives his life. Shields her figure and pays the price.”

Wait, what? Wild’s death is part of the song? And the words, shielding her figure, did Wild take every Guardian laser for Zelda? How did he make it to the Shrine of Resurrection? Oh Wild…

“The princess’ love for her fallen knight, awakens her power and calamity cowers. But the knight survives in the Shrine of Resurrection. He sleeps. Until from his healing dream he leaps.”

Anger fills the group at this. It was known that Wild was in the Shrine? Why did no one check on him? Why did no one keep guard so he wouldn’t be alone and scared when he woke up? Sure it was 100 years, but did no one get suspicious? Especially with elders who saw the fall of Hyrule!

“For fierce and deadly trials await, to regain his strength, fulfill his fate. To become a hero once again. To wrest the princess from Evil's den.” Wild finishes his song while looking around the camp with nervous eyes. Some of the boys looked troubled. Was he really that bad? At Wild’s nervous look, most of the boys snapped out of their stupur and began applauding, Warriors whistling at an ear piercing volume while the others whooped and hollered. Wild, who had kept his hood on to feel a small amount of security at revealing his voice in such a vulnerable way, hid within it once again, except it was a different embarrassment this time, he was relieved he had done it and gotten through it. But the group could see a smile threatening to break out. It was a sweet sight. 

‘Thank you’ Wild signed with fingers trembling from the adrenaline of singing in front of all eight heroes. 

“No problem, Buddy.” Twilight clapped his back.

“Yeah Wild! Thanks for trusting us enough to sing that song!” Hyrule smiled across the campfire. A smile that Wild returned instantly. Hyrule and Wild related to each other in this way. They spent so much time away from civilization and traveling the woods, it was sometimes scary to go back. All of the boys were smiling at him, except for Time. He looked solemn and serious. 

“You okay, Old Man?” Four questioned. Time turned to Wild, look serious. Wild hadn’t been this intimidated by Time since he had first met the man.

“Wild… how many times did those things’ lasers hit you?” Time said the word ‘things’ with such malice the entire group got chills.

“Time.” Twilight whispered urgently. Wild didn’t like to talk about his death one hundred years ago. 

“It says you shielded the princess. How. Many. Times?” Time asked coolly. On the inside he was livid. He was trying so hard not to take it out on Twilight’s protege, because it wasn’t his fault. None of it was, no matter how much he blamed himself, Wild was sent into the situation to die. He took blast after blast with his own body, and he still didn’t make it to Ganon. His friends all died except Zelda who he shielded with his own body.    

“U-um. I don’t remember. I-I guess. Maybe five? Six? I-I’m sorry Time. I-I don’t remember.” Twilight put a hand on Wild’s shoulder when the boy’s breath hitched slightly, jolting Time out of his external anger. The rest of the camp were looking at him in confusion, or in some cases, (Legend), anger.

“I’m sorry Wild I didn't mean to spring that upon you. I was just mad. Not at you.” Time rished the last part in when he saw Wild open his mouth to apologize again. “I was mad at your situation. Wild… you didn’t deserve that. No one would ever deserve that but Hylia, not you kid.” Wild tilted his head in confusion. It would have been slightly cute if the next words hadn’t come out of his mouth. 

“But I failed.” Wild said like it was the most natural thing on the planet. There was an uncomfortable silence in the group, then a descent into chaos. 

“Failed?”

"Wild, no!”

“How the fuck was Calamity’s shit actions your fault? He’s the fucking monster that fucked up Hyrule!”

“Dear Hylia, Wind. Language. He’s right though Wild, it was Ganon’s fault.”

“Wild it wasn’t your fault, it was Ganon’s.”

Wild appreciated the support, but all their voices began blurring together. Tears pricked at his eyes, Twilight’s hand on his shoulder burned hotter than a Guardians laser. It all became too much too fast. 

“It was my fault!” Wild yelled. That halted the group in their tracks. Wild yelled sure. When he was in his environment he would yell while shield surfing, or talking about a crazy plan he had, but this was in anger and despair. Wild harshly brushed Twilight’s hand off, trying to ignore the slight hurt in his eyes. 

“I doomed Hyrule! By the time Zelda unlocked her power I had collapsed. My body quit on me! I quit on all of Hyrule! The other champions died! Why am I the only one left? Kass told me the story of his teacher! He was Zelda’s age and he fell in love with her, but she loved me! I don’t even know if I loved her back! She doesn’t deserve what she was put through! No one does! I did that to them, that was all me! I failed! I got hit with laser after laser after laser but I had to keep going! But I couldn’t, I didn’t even make it the castle! Kass’ teacher was mad I wasn’t a noble or royalty, and he was right! Zelda deserved better! She and I are the only ones left! All the other champions died because of me! Why am I the only one? Why am I still here? Why am I-” Wild choked on his last words on a sob. His entire rant, tears began to cascade down his face as the group looked on in horror.

Wild couldn’t hold it in anymore. He cried and he grieved and he yelled. Wild didn’t feel the white and burning rage anymore, he just felt the despair and sorrow he had been keeping in for years, only releasing a couple of times in small doses. When Twilight reached out to gently touch his hand, it didn’t feel like lava from Death Mountain anymore, it felt warm and loving and Wild simply leaned into it, silently telling Twilight it was okay.

“Oh, Cub.” Twilight murmured before pulling Wild to his chest. Wild curled up in his mentor's arms and allowed himself to sob over all the losses he had felt. His sobs grew harder and he felt like a child, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t breath, his sobs overlapping and clogging his lungs. One of his hands was pulled away from where it was curled into Twilight’s tunic and he whined. 

“Just me kiddo. You gotta breathe with me.” His hand was led to a different chest. Legend, Wild recognized in the back of his mind. Legend exaggerated his breaths for Wild to copy. The first time he tried, he simply choked more and shook his head. “That’s alright, you can do it. Another try.” Legend said gently. Wild would be laughing in a different situation. The word gentle and Legend wouldn’t be put together when he had first met the snarky hero. Wild tried again with a little more success. Legend kept helping him as another hand went through his hair. Four.

“I’m so sorry, Wild.” Wind said from across camp. The younger felt guilty that he had started this when asking if Wild could sing. Wild wanted to reassure that this wasn’t his fault at all, that this had just been building, but he couldn’t talk. Luckily, Warriors and Hyrule were there to cover for him, talking quietly to Wind on the other side of camp. Wind shook it off though, Wild needed them more.

Wild had calmed down slightly. Still crying, and still curled up in Twilight's arms and getting help from Four and Legend. But once he was sure he could hear him, Time spoke up. 

“Wild, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to grill you that hard. That was my mistake.” Wild opened his mouth to tell him that it was okay, he knew Time had no malintent, but Time continued on. “Wild. I need you to understand something. What happened wasn’t your fault.” Wild opened his mouth to correct Time, but Time was having none of it. “No, it wasn’t your fault Wild. I’m not saying that to comfort you or baby you. What you were sent into was an execution Wild.” Twilight's wolf instincts got loud in his head and he almost snapped at Time for being so harsh but stopped himself. He remembered Time told him once after he took Wild under his wing, that mentoring wasn’t just about kind words and support. It was also about knowing when to state hard facts. Sometimes that’s all people understood. 

“No one knew what Ganon had planned, and you had no time to prepare because of the mistakes of those before you. You had nothing to do with their ignorance, Wild.” Time’s face was set in stone, but his eyes showed a fiery passion for every word he was saying. “Wild. Look at me please, bud.” Wild peeked out from Twilight’s shoulder and looked into Time’s eyes, which softened as he met the younger hero’s sky blue eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, because you couldn’t control anything around you. You are not a God. You have the limitations of a Hylian that you already find ways to exceed. Wild, you were so brave. You took hit after hit to protect Zelda. And her powers awakened right before you collapsed. Do you blame her for not unlocking them sooner.” Instantly Wild’s eyes became hard, and he opened his mouth to bite into Time, who could see where this was leading just by the expression on Wild’s face. He held up a hand. “I’m not saying you should. I’m saying that she also had limitations that were out of her control, just like you. If you don’t blame Zelda, why do you blame yourself?” That one stumped Wild a bit. He wanted to say because Zelda was born into a family she never asked to be in, and worked hard everyday to fulfill their expectations… but he was in the same situation. Did Zelda feel the same way he did when he sorrowfully watched her blame herself? Time saw he struck a chord.

“I understand feeling like a failure. I lost battles too. But you did what you could do with what very little of the situation you could control. You said it yourself, you took laser after laser for her, and you only collapsed after you were sure she was safe. The safety of others is the only thing that kept you going, Wild. I’m not saying I approve of you taking lasers for others, but do you realize how much of a hero you are?” Tears flowed from Wild’s eyes once again, but for another reason entirely. Time really cared. He really thought Wild was a hero, even after he heard the song, the stories, the death. He heard it all, and the Hero of Time still thought Wild belonged with them. Wild whispered a quick thank you, and the rest of the group sighed in relief. Wild’s sobs had turned to hiccups as the rest of the group told him similar things to Time. It didn’t feel suffocating this time, it just felt like his eight brothers were trying to comfort him. Wild felt a weight lifted off his shoulders he had felt for so long. Time knew Wild would still struggle with his feelings of failure, one night wouldn’t change that, but he hoped he got through to Wild for the long run, at least a little. 

Wild realized how absolutely exhausted he was before this whole ordeal even started, which only increased tenfold now that he had cried. He was embarrassed that he had lost his shit that much in front of all eight heroes, and realized with a jolt how exhausted they had been too. 

“Um. I’m sorry, I know you all were really tired. I didn’t mean to have this happen-” He was cut off with a flick to his unscarred ear by Legend and a small yank on his ear by Four while Wild yelped.

“What did we just talk about you idiot?” Legend hissed, but it lacked the usual bite he had. 

“Yeah Wild! Don’t be sorry. Everyone needs a good cry once in a while! It’s healthy! I’m a medical professional, you have to listen to me.” Hyrule added with a joking glare. Some snickers rang through the group at Hyrule’s proclamation. Time looked over and smiled in pride at Wild, which Wild returned with red dusting on his cheeks. Hearing all his brothers laughing and fighting, and feeling the comforting arms around him, Wild slowly dozed off into a deep sleep, feeling lighter than he had in years.  

[pompadorkery]

What do you mean you find it hard to relate to female characters. It's a fictional universe, you can make them anyway you want. Lucy is pretty feminine and Anglo too. I realize almost all the moms of your ocs are bad or thier children hate them. I understand that you have an abusive mom but do you really have to projected on every character you have. Do you have something against women or your just not attracted to them. Probably the latter because all of your ocs are sex dolls.

Wow. Where to even start with this one.

Why do you think the majority of Hollywood action heroes or video game protagonists are cis white males?

It's because it's the easiest to relate to for the biggest demographic of their audience.

Many anime have just a boring plain normie male protag for the same reason. They're supposed to be easily relatable, and like a blank slate that you can project on.

For me, female characters are hard to relate to.

Growing up, I never cared for female protags or love interest characters. And usually actively disliked them. (Much of this is because female characters are generally poorly written in alot of media, but that's besides the point)

I have never felt "in touch" with womanhood. I could never relate to female characters because none of them were like me, or had the same thoughts or struggles I had.

The female characters I like now are generally mold breaking. They don't fit in the typical box. And they give me something I can relate to.

For example:

Mako Mankanshoku from Kill la Kill. She's an absolute idiot and a total bimbo. She eats alot, she's loud, she's kinda useless at times, and she cares alot about her friends.

Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani from Overwatch. First of all, she's on the autism spectrum. She's rigid, stubborn, and can often come across as mean- but in reality she's just very goal oriented and likes things to be orderly.

While these are very different characters, I find alot of things in them that I can relate to and identify with. Not every aspect is true at all times, and there are plenty of things in their characters that I can't relate with, but regardless, there are aspects of myself that I can see in characters like them.

I've always related better to male characters. And like I said, much of the time female characters aren't written well, while the male characters are. I just always found them cooler. I liked their designs more, and they had more interesting stories. Whereas many female characters entire plot revolves around getting with the protag.

I've struggled with gender my entire life. I never felt like a girl. Even the people around me would say that I was such a "tomboy". I would often get told to dress more feminine, or that my haircut made me look like a boy, etc. One of my happiest moments as a teenager was when I got to play a male character in my high school's spring musical and during that entire time everyone referred to me in character, as a boy. I had a great time playing this character, and it really showed through in my performance. I was comfortable for once.

I identify as non-binary now, and I still have alot of questions about my own gender, and I'm still figuring alot of things out. But what I know for sure is that I'm not a girl.

Now, getting into my OCs.

You claim that all my OCs have troubled relationships with their moms, because I have a troubled relationship with my own mother.

2 of OCs.

2 of my OCs have mommy issues.

Out of all the characters I have, only 2 have issues with their mothers. So like, are you just pulling things out of your ass, or?

Lucy was abandoned by his mom at a young age and has alot of bitterness towards her because of this. Which is perfectly reasonable given the situation.

Sanka is just a brat. He still loves and cares about his mom, their relationship is just strained due to his own insecurities and self-loathing.

All my other characters either have no mother in the picture at all, or have perfectly fine and normal relationships with their moms.

Neither Sanka nor Lucy's moms are abusive. So it's pretty yikes of you to bring up my own abusive mother in this conversation. What are you trying to prove? In your concocted narrative, I'm writing characters with abusive moms because my mom was abusive and that's the only mother figure I know. So.... I'd be writing from experience.... in what world is that a bad thing?

You also mentioned Lucy and Angelo being feminine. "Feminine male" does not equal "woman". Those are two very different things. Just as a butch woman is not the same as a man. Experiences are completely different. Equating them is extremely sexist, and could be incredibly transphobic if you also think this way about real people.

And claiming I'm not attracted to women because my OCs are 'sex dolls'. Literally what are you even trying to get at? You do realize that real women and fictional characters are different, correct? Plenty of lesbians create stories or art about mlm characters. Plenty of lesbians draw gay porn. Are they not attracted to women because they draw men getting fucked?

I am bi. I also fall somewhere in the ace spectrum, due to alot of my own dysphoria. Of course I'm attracted to women. Real women are so incredibly sexy and beautiful and interesting. What isn't there to like? Just because I like making male characters doesn't somehow mean I hate women. I just haven't been able to create a fictional woman I find as interesting and captivating as real women are.

Also. I just enjoy drawing men. So a majority of my characters are gonna be men. Sue me. Sorry for enjoying myself.

And the whole "sex doll" comment. I answer the questions people ask. Which happens to be alot about sex. What can I say? People have cumbrain.

I'm also an nsfw artist. So obviously alot of the art I create is gonna be porn.

Is that the entire story of the characters? No, of course not! Do you think me and Ren would have enough storyline for an entire book if all the characters did was fuck? There's so much more to it than that. There's so much more that people don't see.

I mean, what's more interesting to see a drawing of:

Two characters in the heated embrace of love making

Or two characters sitting on the couch doing completely different mundane activities

There's a time and a place for everything, and sometimes drawing something simple and mundane is a fun look into a characters life.... But also I just like drawing dicks and the faces of people who are thoroughly wrecked.

Tl;dr- It's not that deep, fam.

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 7: Brawling

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Maeve nodded, and Rowan let the girl stalk into the waiting hallway, following close behind. Both of them were positively seething, radiating heat and tension and fury. Now that the inescapable force of Maeve’s presence had been removed, there was no damper on either of their tempers, no check on the threat of violence that steadily spread between them like a pit of lava.

Rowan would count himself very lucky if they made it to her rooms in silence, if the princess managed to keep her mouth shut. Any word exchanged between the two of them would serve as a match being thrown, inevitably causing the noxious gas swathed around them to spark into a fiery explosion of rage and violence.

Rowan told himself he could keep himself in check, could retain his tight hold on his anger. It wouldn’t be a good idea to give in while still under Maeve’s nose, and so soon after the two females had struck their bargain and made their tentative peace. They were so close, only a few more turns, a few more steps –

But then the girl spoke, sparks igniting. “You must be very important to Her Immortal Majesty if she put you on nurse duty.”

Lightening crackled through his veins, icing over his limbs. There was a great roaring in his head as the primal part of him rared to meet the challenge the girl was setting him, to fight his opponent until she was defeated, or destroyed.

He responded without thinking, focusing on keeping the leash he held on his anger from snapping. “Given your history, she didn’t trust anyone but her best to keep you in line.”

The words were barely more than a growl. Rowan couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to someone with so much heat, so much vitriol. Not even Fenrys’ taunts could pull him out of his icy shell so easily.

The princess’ eyes lit up – he was giving her exactly what she wanted. Rowan lashed down even harder on his fury as she retaliated, “Playing warrior in the woods doesn’t seem like the greatest indicator of talent.”

He clenched his jaw tight, speaking through his teeth. “I fought on killing fields long before you, your parents, or your grand-uncle were even born.”

Rowan nearly snarled in satisfaction, seeing the girl bristle in indignation. “Who’s to fight here except birds and beasts?”

He had to choke down a laugh. The child had no idea, none whatsoever. If not for her arrogance and conceit, he may have sympathized with the girl’s obvious ignorance. As it was, it only served to increase his contempt.

“The world is a far bigger and more dangerous place than you can imagine, girl. Consider yourself blessed to receive any training – to have the chance to prove yourself.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve seen plenty of this big and dangerous world, princeling.”

A soft laugh escaped through Rowan’s clenched teeth. Two could play at that game. “Just wait, Aelin.”

The barb hit home – she dropped all pretense of playfulness, her voice now filled with pure aggression. “Don’t call me that.”

Rowan’s eyes sparked. “It’s your name. I’m not going to call you anything different.”

She stepped in front of him, and he flashed his teeth at her. Rowan could smell the scent of her power as it writhed around her, filling the corridor. He choked on it.

“No one here can know who I am. Do you understand?”

He pressed down hard, pushing his advantage. “My aunt has given me a harder task than she realizes, I think.” She flinched slightly as his claiming, his dig at her demi- status. She did not belong, and Maeve was his, not hers.

The she responded, loathing coating her voice with its slimy fingers as she bathed in its addictive touch. “Fae like you make me understand the King of Adarlan’s actions a bit more, I think.”

Before he could reconsider, Rowan punched the girl in the face. He had aimed for her nose, but she had managed to roll slightly to the side, catching the blow on her chin. She hit the opposite wall hard, her head connecting with the bricks. Blood leaked from her mouth.

But the spark in the girl’s eyes didn’t fade. She wanted this fight, wanted Rowan to beat her into a pulp. Why, he didn’t know. Probably to get him in trouble with Maeve – a ploy to alter the bargain they’d struck in her favor.

So before Rowan could strike her again, he halted, preventing himself from fracturing her jaw and instead snarling in her face, low and vicious.

She just purred, “Do it.”

Rowan only barely maintained control, knowing that this would do nothing to teach the girl respect or humility. It wouldn’t make her yield, or break, or hurt. He’d have to find another way to penetrate her armor.

“Why should I give you what you want?”

“You’re just as useless as the rest of your brethren.”

He just laughed again, lowering his fist. “If you’re that desperate to eat stone, go ahead: I’ll let you try to land the next punch.”

She didn’t hesitate, swinging wildly, no control, no discipline. He moved quickly and easily aside, then hooked his foot around hers, sending her careening into the wall once more.

Rowan stepped back and crossed his arms while the girl spat blood, swearing. He smirked, sending her hurtling towards him again, so overwhelmed with fury that she moved with no plan, no strategy.

Rowan grinned viciously as he efficiently countered, sending her crashing into a darkened brazier behind him and landing on the hard stone floor, her teeth ringing. The monster in his chest purred its satisfaction – the struggle providing an outlet for his fury, allowing it to ebb from his limbs.

“Like I said, you have a lot to learn. About everything.”

“Go fuck yourself.” She snarled past her already swollen lip.

Rowan sauntered down the hall, leaving her lying there in a heap. “Next time you say anything like that,” he said without looking over his shoulder, “I’ll have you chopping wood for a month.”

Rowan paused momentarily, listening to her drag herself off the stones. Then they made their way down the hall, and he dumped her in a small, cold room that was tucked away in a corner of the fortress, which would be hers for the foreseeable future.

It was little better than a prison cell, and would be achingly cold at night. There was no fireplace, only a small bed, a chamber pot, and a washbasin filled with a layer of water currently coated in ice. Perfect for the spoiled brat.

“Give me your weapons.” Rowan picked up a bucket and tossed its contents into the hall, holding it out towards the girl.

“Why? And no.”

“Give me your weapons.”

She just looked back at him, eyes blank. “Tell me why.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Then we’re going to have another brawl.”

Rowan raised his brow. You call that a brawl?

But still, the girl’s face was leaking blood like a dripping faucet, and he would already have to answer to Maeve for the punch he’d thrown. And, now that he’d struck out, he’d lifted some of the burden of his fury and what remained was far easier to ignore.

So instead of giving the girl what she wanted, he answered, “Starting at dawn, you’ll earn your keep by helping in the kitchen. Unless you plan to murder everyone in the fortress, there is no need for you to be armed. Or to be armed while we train. So I’ll keep your daggers until you’ve earned them back.”

Her mouth twisted into a frown. “The kitchen?”

Rowan bared his teeth in a wicked grin. “Everyone pulls their weight here. Princesses included. No one’s above some hard labor, least of all you.”

Her frown deepened into something deeper, and darker, her teeth clacking together with an audible snap. “So my training includes being a scullery maid?”

“Part of it.” And I’m going to savor every damn second of your misery.

She pursed her lips. “For an old bastard, you certainly haven’t bothered to learn manners at any point in your long existence.”

“Why should I waste flattery on a child who’s already in love with herself?”

“We’re related, you know.”

“We’ve as much blood in common as I do with the fortress pig-boy.” He shoved the bucket in her face, exhausted by this trying game of wills.

Her nostrils flared, but finally she acquiesced, and began to disarm herself. Rowan carefully counted the weapons she pulled from beneath her clothing, running them against the mental tally he’d generated.

When she finished, he tucked the bucket into his side and strode from the room without a farewell, calling over his shoulder, “Be ready at dawn.”

The door slammed shut, but he could still hear the girl say, “Bastard. Old stinking bastard,” before he stormed down the hall and back up the spiral staircase.

···

Rowan had never stayed the night at Mistward, though he had passed through it countless times. So while he had never slept in the room he was heading towards, he knew that it was the one he would be given.

He opened the wooden door and slid quietly inside, utterly spent. The room was small and shabby, a large four-poster bed occupying much of the space. Worn rugs were thrown over much of the floor, an attempt to soften their cold stone chill. A small but acceptable fireplace was set into one wall, with a worn wooden worktable placed in front of it.

Rowan placed the bucket of weapons on the ground next to the table, where his saddlebags were already waiting. He turned to the fireplace, and set to work constructing a meagre fire, knowing that as night came on, it would get harder and harder to keep the mists’ cold chill from freezing his bones.

Just as he got the fire lit however, Rowan felt that familiar tug deep in his chest, pulling him out of his room, back up the stairs, and over to the small office where Maeve still sat, holding court.

This time once he approached, Rowan knelt, bowing his head before the Queen of the Fae.

She didn’t waste any time with formalities. “I see you and the Heir of Terrasen have become quite close over your travels.” Rowan didn’t respond, keeping his eyes low. Waiting to see how she would react.

Maeve regarded him carefully, evaluating. “I’d just struck a bargain with the girl, a formal agreement between Doranelle and Terrasen – a historic moment. Even accounting for the princess’ tenuous relationship with her throne.”

Rowan frowned. He was completely empty, the girl’s fire having robbed him of all remaining strength, and was far, far too exhausted to continue to play this game.

“And then the moment she leaves my sight, you hit her.”

Rowan’s fingers twitched. “My apologies, majesty.”

Maeve smelled an easy victory. “Does your remorse undo the potential damage you have done to this bargain, and to the future relationship of Doranelle to the nation of Terrasen?”

“No my queen.”

“Then I would say that you have a debt owed, Rowan Whitethorn.”

Rowan finally raised his eyes to look up at her, his face carefully blank. Maeve’s eyes were narrowed, her brow set and her mouth wry. She seemed to be coming to some kind of decision, to be weighing different strategies against each other.

Her presence was lighter than it had been earlier; her dark power was still there, but it was no longer oppressive in its weight. Now that the princess was gone, Maeve’s performance had slipped ever so slightly, become more comfortable, easier.

She was no longer actively malicious, and yet still Maeve was a force to be reckoned with.

“I do not know if this is fortunate, or unfortunate, Prince Rowan, but I believe that there is no punishment that I could bestow upon you that would be more effective than that which I already have.” Maeve’s grin twisted into something dark and inescapable – a cage.

Rowan’s jaw twitched in response, but he was far too drained for Maeve’s harsh words to cut him the way she intended them too. He'd already accepted his fate, any more fury expended on its behalf would just be an unnecessary excess. So instead of snarling, or protesting, or asking why it had to be him to train the girl, and not someone with far more experience or ability, he just said quietly, “Yes my queen.”

Her lips tightened, “I must admit, while I had formed very few expectations regarding the heir of Terrasen, I certainly had not expected for the two of you to detest each other so entirely.”

Rowan remained silent, still watching his queen’s face intently.

She watched him right back, seeing past his icy armor and down into his very essence. Maeve knew him better than any still living, knew him better than he knew himself. There was nothing he would hide from her, nothing he would deny her – even if such a thing would have been possible.

Yes, Rowan had known who this female was when he had tied his life to her, had known her many faults, known of the darkness that nestled deep in her soul. But she was all Rowan had, the only person he had left.

Maeve looked right through him, divining whatever knowledge she sought. Then she leaned back, and turned to look out the window, ruminating. A whisper of words passed her lips, “It seems I did my work too well.”

But before Rowan could begin to question, she turned the full weight of her gaze back onto him, saying, “Regardless of your feelings for each other, I expect adequate results.”

Rowan nodded brusquely.

“The girl will likely prove difficult. She has received almost no training whatsoever. Her mother…was difficult. She never believed the girl needed to receive proper training in order to achieve the necessary control. The princess was only taught to suppress.”

Maeve scoffed. “The woman knew that the only way the girl could be taught was through me. And after her disobedience in marrying that Terrasen prince, she feared me too much to allow her daughter within my clutches.” She smiled wickedly. “But it didn’t work, and the girl ended up here anyways. As was inevitable.”

Rowan just nodded.

Maeve spoke more to herself than to him. “The journey may have been more winding than I initially supposed, but now here she is. And the next stage can begin.”

Maeve paused for a moment, and then spoke directly to Rowan, her voice hard and commanding. “I want you to unleash her for me Rowan.”

He nodded grimly.

“That child has no idea what agreement she just made. Yes, when she comes to me, I will give her the answers she seeks, but she will not get a chance to do anything with them. You will train her for me Rowan, reforge her. Make her into a weapon.”

Maeve stood, her violet skirts billowing around her, obviously dismissing him. Rowan stood, beginning to leave, but then Maeve spoke again, a dark finality coating the words.

“I need you to break her.”

Rowan bowed low, and strode from the room.

···

Rowan sat on the edge of his bed, staring into the writing depths of the flames before him.

The smell of ash and burning wood permeated the space. Rowan wondered dully if he would ever be able to dissociate the scent from the princess of Terrasen, or if for centuries to come Rowan would be forced to think of the insufferable girl whenever he smelled flames.

And now he would be forced to spend the coming weeks and months and years in her delightful company, training her.

He had only rarely trained individuals – normally he was placed in command of large groups of soldiers, to lead them in battle and ready them for war. Occasionally, he shared the duty with one or more of his fellow blood-sworn. But most often he was alone, at the head of a legion that could number in the thousands.

Within that very small group of individuals, he had only trained a handful in magic. And never had he taught one with even a drop of power such as this princess had.

Normally, when a demi-Fae sought to enter Doranelle they were trained for a number of years in combat, and if they had it, in magic. Until they were given some kind of test to evaluate their abilities, and were either let in or turned away. Only a very, very select few were allowed to enter, and once they were, even they were not greeted with open arms.

In Doranelle, the demi-Fae were second class citizens, relegated to the tasks that full-blooded Fae regarded with contempt and distaste. Particularly those who weren’t gifted with magic. Lorcan, the most powerful demi-Fae male living, was the exception, not the rule.

However, this girl was unlike all the others, even Lorcan. Her training, and her life afterwards, would be unlike any he had heard of. Even Rowan’s own training those centuries past would not compare to what this girl required, despite the similarities in the strength of their power. He had very little relevant experience to draw from.

Rowan had given the girl kitchen duty, meaning that he had mornings to himself. Maeve hadn’t given him any other tasks to fulfill at Mistward, meaning that he now had the unexpected benefit of a limited freedom, and time. Time away from Maeve and her conniving court, in an outpost where he so outranked the occupants that he had no one to bother him, no one who would seek him out. Where he could do what he wished.

If it weren’t for the princess sleeping in the bowels of the fortress below him, Rowan may have been anticipating this unexpected freedom with gladness, or at least a measure of relief. It was rare that any of Maeve’s warriors were given such time.

And yet Rowan was sure that the Heir of Terrasen would find a way to ruin it for him, just as Maeve had promised. This was far from a gift.

Rowan wanted the coming months over and done with. Wanted the princess gone and out of his life. But Maeve had ordered him to train her, to break her and unleash her power, and so he would do so. But he didn’t have to ensure that the princess followed through with her side of the bargain. If she abandoned it of her own volition, Rowan would be free. Free to return to Doranelle and face Maeve’s wrath empty-handed. It might even be worth it.

In the meantime, Rowan would have to figure out some kind of plan, a test for the princess to take. A way for him to evaluate the girl’s magic and her control. For that was the real talent in working with magic – not your ability to manipulate it, but your skill in conforming your power to your will.

Stubbornness was equally helpful to creativity and ingenuity when working with magic. And while the princess was perhaps the most stubborn person he had ever encountered, she hadn’t demonstrated one scrap of self-control in the week that he had known her. Rowan’s stomach sank.

Perhaps he would have her face some kind of threat…a foe within reach of the fortress.

He sighed. He could think on it further some other time, when his head wasn’t pounding with exhaustion. Rowan still had weeks before that day dawned. Weeks he would spend almost entirely in the company of that spoiled, useless, insufferable child. Trying to teach her. To get her to listen.

Through the exhaustion, Rowan felt the familiar stirrings of a well-worn irritation, deep in his gut. He frowned as he turned on his side, falling into an uneasy sleep.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[nukyster-blog]

Changing course, chapter 1:

I started writing this story because I love Ivar, but disliked what he became. I loved him up to where Ragnar died, after that he became more of a villain than an anti-hero. For that, I wanted to give him a good hit of karma and figured making him a slave for Christians would be his worst nightmare. Before you continue reading, I’d like to address that the story will be graphic in the blood/guts/death/violence sense. I’m also aiming to get things as historically accurate as I can, but this is my hobby so if I make horrible mistakes, bear with me. 

Chapter 1) Changing Course .-.-.

Ivar had always been plagued by pain. Since the day he left his mother’s womb and drew his first breath, life had been an endless road of physical suffering. As a nursling, those insufferable muscle aches and stiff joints made him cry relentlessly. Endlessly. It would drive his brother’s up the walls; send their father overseas. He’d weep in his mother’s arms, only silenced by the warmth of her breast; his pain absorbing strength which turned him hungry. He’d endured remarkably, survived the first crucial years and eventually managed to tolerate the pain as part of his life. He learnt to see the inevitable suffering not as foe, but as an unwelcome acquaintance that needed to be ignored in order to get through the day. That mindset, combined with his stubbornness and willpower made it possible for him to keep his chin up and get through the day. It did not lessen his self loathing and envy towards his brothers. Blessed with strong and healthy bodies, their mere existence were three thorns in Ivar’s eye; the youngest son of Ragnar Lothbrok. The black sheep, the boneless; deformed from the waist down. 

His handicap planted a seed deep inside his chest and it spread all throughout his ribcage like poison ivy. It was blinding hate towards the world, to all who were capable to roam free and looked down upon him. Burdened by his physical limits his rage would at times rise high above his handicap, withstanding the pain to solemnly focus on destruction.  

Not a single soul forgot Ivar’s first victim. How he’d embedded his axe into the skull of another child. He remembered vividly how his tiny fist had trembled around the handle, how his mother pulled him tightly against her chest and rushed him inside. Hush dyrbare, she’d soothed him, her voice soft and warm, it’s not your fault, don’t feel regret, you are the son of Ragnar Lofthbrok, it’s only right for people to fear you. Her response was the only validation he needed. Ivar took the reassuring words of his mother to heart and smothered all forms of empathy. He was entitled to lash out to others and from that very young age Ivar found a coping mechanism; hurting the less fortunate. It wasn’t physically torture per se; his mother’s smothering grip enabled him to actually torture their thralls and peasants. He might be a useless prince, but he was a prince. His royal blood burdened him to keep their name up to certain standards, so purposely torturing their slaves was inexcusable. 

That did not mean Ivar would let any change go by to destroy the little belongings their thralls valued, pinch his nursemaid up to the point it left bruises, sink his teeth into ankles and throw a fit over the littlest of things. It was interesting to see that over time, he became quit infamous to the poor and powerless population of Kattegat. They saw him as a monster and that was much better than to be perceived as a crippled. So Ivar willingly took on the role of something dark and disgusting, he embraced being a monster.

His second act of bloodthirst happened during his pre pubescent years. The Seer had condemned a Christian to death by starvation. 

Curiosity made him crawl to their city centre in the middle of the night where he first observed the haggard form of a man, fiercely praying to it’s false God.

It was an offense, openly performing such devotion for it’s Christian God. Although the slave never laid an eye on him, Ivar resented the man with every fiber of his being. It wasn’t the poor man per say, that set him off, the poor thing simply represented defiance; praying to it’s Christian God in the centre of their town. What he later claimed as hate for the Christian, had simply been an excuse to unleash his rage. The wrath towards the entire world had been sprouting all throughout his chest and some of the roots must have reached his brain. Because what he did with his bare hands was inhuman. He destroyed the Christian, with his bare hands, knuckles and teeth. Like a meek lamb the man, awaited his death and did not fight when he was being slaughtered. It had been Ivar’s first intentional murder and it was hypnotic, addictive. Without empathy, it was easy to perceive the human body as a gigantic canvas; with endless possibilities. Destruction and pain was the purest form of art, of life itself. By ending it. Ivar loved every moment, every hair, teeth, every fiber of it. The iron taste of warm blood, the warmth of it running down his hands, chin and chest. He welcomed it, all of it and bathed in it. All for glory, all for Odin. All to make the world forget the crippled boy that wept for his mother’s warmth and see him for what he wanted to be. A monster, because he failed to perceive himself as a man, as an equal to his brothers. No, his weak legs would never place him in the same line as his brother’s. So, a monster then, was the second best choice. 

Ivar showed Kattegat another form of Boneless. At the first lights of dawn, the centre filled itself with exclamations of horrors and awe. The cobblestones were painted crimson and a flock of chickens were pecking at the intestines of the Christian. They lay spread throughout the centre, attracting flies and more bystanders. Ivar had just ripped out the tibia bones, leaving the muscles and skin lay wobbly and in a strange angle now that it’s inner skeleton had been removed. Ivar had been scraping the last bits of flesh from the bones with his fingernails when his mother appeared from the crowd and cried out in horror, falling down on her knees. 

From that day, his brothers looked at him differently. With disgust, yes, because he mauled the body of the Christian like a starved wolf. Which wasn’t far from the truth, honestly, he’d been hungry. Hungry for blood. And validation. 

From that day on, there was a hush whenever Ivar entered the Great hall, or any other place. Folks turned their head, acknowledged his presence. It was enough clarification for Ivar that being ruthless and malevolent paid off. Instead of being the handicapped son of Ragnar Lothbrok, he was the Christian slaughterer. Ivar the Boneless, now he was able to wear that byname with pride.

He’d carved pawns from the Christian’s bones and used them for his tafle game. During a game, he jokingly commented that he should’ve taken a knee bone too, it would have made an excellent king. Hvitserk chuckled uncomfortably, Sigurt’s eyes widened and Ubbe walked out. He’d loved it, pressing everyone’s buttons, making them uncomfortable and on edge. But eventually, his prepubescent act of monstrosity faded. 

That was why he felt blessed when their father asked him to join his raid in Wessex. Him, only him; Ivar the Boneless, joining their father on a raid. The Gods never favoured him and instead of glory, Ivar found despair. Their father, Ragnar Lothbrok willingly walked into the belly of the beast, with his hands raised high, unarmed and broken. Like a loyal dog, he’d crawled after his father, knowing full heartily in the castle of Wessex lay nothing but doom. Still, he’d rather die by his father’s side then end up dead in a ditch, from hunger and thirst. His father broke his promise, or rather King Egbert’s son did. The safe passage back home, which had been arranged turned out to be a lie. When he was dragged away from his father’s cell, a blunt object collided to the back of his head and pain temporarily blinded him. Quite helplessly, he’d been listening to Prince Aethelwulf arranging his deposit. The pain in the back of his head was severe. Pain throbbed so violently around in his skull that he wondered why it didn’t just crack open.

For the first day, the nausea was overwhelming, he could not keep anything down. Drifting in and out of consciousness, he lost track of time and place. Curled up, cradling his damaged skull he wished for his mother. Any form of light ravaged his brain, pounding, throbbing, like a rotting tooth right between the eyes. It took his sanity away, his coordination. The few altercation he had with Saxxons made him whimper and plead for salvation. But no relief came to his pain. Without power to fight back, Ivar found himself tossed into a ship hold, as if he were a sack of potatoes; nothing more than damaged cargo. The circumstances below deck were horrendous; human cattle packed up and wedged together as tightly as the overseers could cramp in. Ivar, half aware of his surroundings and halfway sliding into a deep pool of endless nothingness, flinched when fingers reached for his oath ring. A fist formed itself around his wrist like a bear trap and with that, the last bits of his hereditary was ripped off of him. The leather protecting his fragile lower limbs, gone, taken too. His necklace, also gone. Even his shoes and tunic were worth taking. The overseers sniggered at the sight of Ivar’s weak attempt to intervene and shoved him aside, like a thing. Like a nothing.

Their journey overseas started although Ivar wasn’t aware, which in his case was a good thing. The onerous space was filled up to the max, with minimal resources. There was barely any light, no personal space. Water was scarce and so was food. Hygiene became a problem after the ship set it’s sails and some of the unlucky ones got seasick. It did not take long for the cramped out area to turn into a sewage; the stench and heat insufferable. 

Ivar withstood the trials in silence, cradling his head in a fetal position. The pain in his head was all consuming. Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed the pain to go away. Over and over, until in the end, the rest of the world became detached. 

He could barely hear the people around him. Some prayed in foreign tongues, others whimpered. Somewhere afar, a young child cried. 

Eventually, he drifted into sleep, waking up by a sudden toss aside. Cries were lost beneath the thunder that rolled overhead. Their cage of wood and sails was mercilessly thrown into a storm. The waves resolutely grew in size. Their vessel rode the mighty swelling sea like a child’s toy, no longer controlled by the hands of men. 

The inhabitants below deck were violently thrown from the far end of the hold to the other. Bodies were being trampled, panic spread like the plague, festering into each and everyone’s head. Violence roamed among the poor souls in captivity in order to breathe. 

At one point, Ivar found himself suffocating. Never had he wished more for land, to feel the sweet green grass of his home against the palms of his hands. The sea, it felt like his rage from within. Like punishment, ready to tear itself through the wooden construction to claim their souls. His mother’s prophecy would come true. He would drown and never enter Valhalla, because there was no honour in this poor death. To be dragged down to the bottom of the sea with countless slaves. There was nothing heroic nor royal about this death. This was not the end of a Prince, yet it seemed inevitable. And although he fought the feeling with every last bit of strength he could muster, Ivar was petrified. For the cold water to seize his body, for his lungs to fill up with water, to feel his life slowly ebb away.  

In between the lightning, darkness prevailed. In between the darkness there were flashes of his fellow unfortunate souls, their faces overcome with terror. 

‘Is it Odin’, Ivar thought, ‘fighting with the Christian God?’ Was this his fault, for it was him who’d coldly, bloodily mauled a defenseless Christian? 

‘Please Odin, the All-father, do not allow a Viking prince to die such an unworthy death,’ Ivar pleaded, ‘if I survive this storm I promise you, I will make it worth your while.’ 

As sudden as the storm erupted, it disappeared. Along the dawn of morning, the ship anchored ashore. 

Sunlight burned his eyes, blinding Ivar momentarily as the portholes were pulled open by the overseers. Orders were being shouted in unfamiliar tongues, for those who weren’t familiar with the language, there was the beating of a whip. The human cargo was expected to exit the ship, rather sooner than later. 

Few bodies remained lifeless, passed away due to suffocation. One by one they were removed by the overseers; by simply being thrown off the ship. There was no honor, nor time to bury a slave.

When one of the overseers took hold of Ivar’s curled up body, he was surprised to find the slave to be alive. Surprise was rapidly replaced by irritation. Lashing his whip he struck Ivar across the face, making the poor young man hiss and hide his face. 

The overseer signaled another member of his crew to lend out a helping hand. Both grabbed Ivar underneath his armpits and dragged him up his feet. 

Both men grunted in annoyance when their slave immediately dropped back on the floor. One chuckled and nudged against Ivar’s deformed legs. The other one let out a long impatient sigh and kicked Ivar’s arms right from under him. 

Ivar’s chin merely had time to hit the wooden floor, before a familiar boot planted itself onto Ivar’s spinal cord, taking his breath away. 

The other overseer sank down on his knees, a knife playing between his fingers. Though rust had set on the handle and blade, it was strong and jagged, enough to cut a throat. 

The tip of the knife pressing against Ivar’s  Adam’s apple prevailed the pain in his head, the stiffness of his limbs and the heavy weight on top of him. 

“I can crawl you croaked-nosed bastard,” Ivar snarled, his hands bracing to carry his upper body. The overseers must have found it amusing, seeing him squirm on the floor like a spider being squished. To exaggerate Ivar’s deride, the boot placed on his back moved up to in between his shoulder blades, pressing him down firmly. 

The boiling rage inside of him, swept through his system, like an old favoured friend patting him on the back. 

In effort to remain silent Ivar gritted his teeth, his knuckles turned white from clenching his fists too hard. His eyes squeezed closed as his face contorted and he placed his palms down onto the splintery floor. Arching his back, the pain rushed through his body like an igniting fire, but he would withstand it, even if it was the last thing he’d do. Inch by inch, he pressed himself up while another man’s weight pressed him down. With every inch, his demolished resilience sparked back up and inwardly he roared when the overseer took the boot off his back, allowing him to carry his crippled arse out of this hellhole. 

Crawling like a worm from a bird, he climbed up the steps, one by one, while sweat trickled down his face and his right eye twitched from the explosive pain inside his damaged skull. 

On the upper deck, he briefly sank against a barrel, allowing his lungs to fill up with the salty fresh breeze. Grey clouds roamed freely above – hindering the sun and its warmth. 

Once Ivar caught his breath and expelled the headache to the far end of his brain, he risked a peek over the railing. 

Dejection curled around his chest with the grip of an iron straight jacket. The ship had anchored at a small harbour, bedded near a murky dirt road. A long line of future slaves were staggering towards carts pulled by mules. One man’s sanity must have drowned during the storm, the poor bastard broke the line and made a run for it. 

He did not get far, an armed horse rider strode after him, stabbing a spear through his neck. There was no escape, at least not now. 

And so Ivar the Boneless, son of King Ragnar Lothbrok, found himself obeying the commands of Christians, lost in a faraway land while his father was at the mercy of a mendacious king. His mother presumed him to be dead, lifeless at the bottom of the sea. So there wouldn’t be a soul looking for him. 

He came to Essex as a Prince, for fame and glory; yet resurrected as a nameless, crippled slave. Oh, the Gods played him the most lousy cards of all. 

.-.-.

A/N: So this was chapter one of my Ivar fanfiction, I’m thrilled to hear what you think of it so far. As I’m still very much on Ivar’s side, I’d like to point out that yes he murdered a person in a gruesome way, but he basically did it for validation. Ok, yes that fact might make it even worse, but the way I see it is that Ivar desperately wants to become ‘something’, that he’d rather be a monster than be the person he is. 

And now he’s not even a monster anymore, now he’s just a slave, that’s karma baby. 

Xoxox Nukyster