#as a protector and a source of strength

[hylfystt]

wolbert week 2023 - day 4: we fight as one

"If you need a push, I'll be right there behind you."

[huntressofladyartemis]

A little correction!

Hi! I just want to correct me about something i wrote in my first post and the second too.... Is about Ares as a protector of women.

I've been studying and reading here some posts with the sources and i understand now that call Ares the protector of women is not accurate, at least the ancient greeks didn't worshiped him with this title… He have a epithet which means "feasted by women" but not a "protector".

He was the patron deity of the Amazons (and father according to some textes) but also Artemis was the patron deity and she IS the protector of women... Well, the protector of young girls, she guided them into the adulthood! Something that she shared with her brother Apollo, who was a protector of young boys and guided them into adulthood. That's why neither Artemis or Apollo are married... They represented the youth.

But, again with Ares... Even if he is not the protector of women, that's doesn't mean he could be treated as a jerk misogynist! I said, but i'll say it again and all the time until people understand... GODS ARE NOT MISOGYNISTS OR FEMINISTS!

Ares is not just war, blood and masculinity... He is stregth, courage, he could be protection, yes! Just like all the gods, he showed complexity in epics or the poems, but he also was worshiped! Read the hymns or see his temples! I disagree of claiming that he was the most hated god, that only happenned in the Iliad, he is not the most hated god... No gods were hated by the Ancient Greeks who worshiped them!

I apologize for spreading misinformation about Ares the protector of women, but he can be protection too, for all who want be under his shield and feel secure 💙

The picture is from the Theoi page

[gaza-evacuation-funds]

She lost her support, but she didn't lose you

The father is the family's protector, the knight in his daughter's eyes, the steadfast guardian, the unshakable fortress. Now, imagine the overwhelming heartbreak when this fortress crumbles before her very eyes. Imagine the devastating void a daughter feels when her sense of security is ripped away. This is exactly what happened to Rania.

Rania, a sensitive and gifted artist, witnessed the unimaginable—her father, her source of safety and strength, was taken from her in front of her very eyes while the family sought refuge in Al-Shifa Hospital.

Despite the crushing weight of her loss, Rania continues to channel her pain and the collective suffering of Palestinians through her art. Her work speaks volumes about resilience, hope, and the indomitable human spirit.

But Rania needs our help to keep going. She now carries the burden of caring for her mother, her siblings, and their children. Supporting Rania not only honors her father’s memory but also ensures that her art, her story, and her family’s survival continue to inspire us all. Let us stand with Rania and enable her to be a family supporter after her father

This is also the PiPal link for immediate support if you can't donate via GofundMe

Rania Youssef's campaign received €4,819 five months ago, but in the last days her campaign slows down. Any donation you can send to Rania will serve as a support for her after she loses her children.

@wellwaterhysteria @el-shab-hussein @irhabiya @nabulsi

[astrologydray]

……Ceres in the Houses……

Representing nurturing, food, care, and cycles of loss and renewal. Its house placement shows where and how you express caretaking energy and what makes you feel emotionally and physically nourished.

………………………………………

Ceres in the 1st 🏡: Ceres in the 1st house suggests nurturing, caregiving, and providing support to others are integral to your identity. You naturally exude a warm, caring energy, and people may see you as someone who offers comfort, protection, and nourishment—both emotionally and physically. You may have a strong connection to nature, health, or self-care, and your presence can be very healing to those around you. You likely take pride in taking care of yourself and others, and your sense of self-worth may be tied to your ability to provide for those you love. Depending on the sign, you may express this nurturing energy through practical acts of service, emotional support, or even creative or intellectual guidance. Ceres in the 1st house is ensuring that you don’t overextend yourself or neglect your own needs in favor of caring for others. You may feel responsible for everyone’s well-being, which can lead to burnout. Learning to nurture yourself as much as you nurture others, allowing your caregiving nature to be a source of strength rather than depletion.

Ceres in the 2nd 🏡: Ceres in the 2nd house ties nurturing and care to material security, self-worth, and physical comfort. You express love and support through tangible means—providing food, financial stability, gifts, or creating a comfortable and safe environment for yourself and others. Acts of service and physical affection may be your primary love languages. You may feel most nurtured when you have financial stability, access to quality resources, and a sense of security in your life. Providing for yourself and your loved ones gives you a deep sense of fulfillment, and you likely take great pride in your ability to create abundance. with Ceres in the 2nd house is attaching your self-worth too much to material possessions or financial status. You may also overgive, trying to express love through material means while neglecting emotional or spiritual nourishment. Recognizing that true security comes from within and that nurturing extends beyond material support to emotional and psychological care as well.

Ceres in the 3rd 🏡: Ceres in the 3rd house expresses nurturing through communication, learning, and intellectual connection. You care for others by offering advice, engaging in meaningful conversations, and being a source of mental and emotional support. Words of affirmation and thoughtful gestures, such as writing messages or sharing knowledge, may be your primary ways of showing love. You likely feel nurtured when you have stimulating discussions, exchange ideas, or feel heard and understood by those around you. Sibling relationships, early education, and your local environment may have played a significant role in shaping your understanding of care and nourishment. Ceres in the 3rd house people have a tendency to intellectualize emotions rather than fully feeling them. You might also spread yourself too thin, constantly giving advice or emotional support without taking time to recharge. Your nurturing extends beyond words and ideas, incorporating emotional presence and deeper personal connections.

Ceres in the 4th 🏡 : Ceres in the 4th house makes nurturing, home, and family central to your sense of security and well-being. You feel most fulfilled when you can create a warm, safe, and comforting environment for yourself and your loved ones. Your way of caring is deeply emotional, and you may take on the role of a protector or provider within your family. You likely have a strong connection to your roots, traditions, and childhood experiences, which can shape how you give and receive love. Home-cooked meals, cozy spaces, and emotional support are key ways you express care. Family bonds, whether biological or chosen, are essential to your sense of stability. Ceres in the 4th house has the potential for emotional overattachment or taking on too much responsibility for others’ well-being. You may struggle with setting boundaries, feeling like you must always be the caregiver. Nurturing yourself just as much as you nurture others, ensuring that your home life supports your own emotional needs as well.

Ceres in the 5th 🏡: Ceres in the 5th house expresses nurturing through creativity, joy, and self-expression. You feel most fulfilled when you can care for others in a way that encourages their individuality and personal growth. Your love is warm, playful, and often shown through acts of encouragement, affection, and shared creative or recreational activities. You may find joy in nurturing children, artistic projects, or even romantic partners, as you naturally enjoy bringing happiness to others. Creativity and self-expression could be essential to your well-being, and you might use art, music, or performance as a way to nourish both yourself and those around you. With Ceres in the 5th house there’s a potential to seek validation through your ability to nurture, or to overextend yourself in relationships by always trying to bring joy to others. You may also struggle with balancing fun and responsibility. The key to a fulfilling expression of this placement is embracing your own creativity and joy while allowing others the space to develop their own individuality without dependence on your care.

Ceres in the 6th 🏡: Ceres in the 6th house expresses nurturing through acts of service, health, and daily routines. You feel most fulfilled when you can care for others in practical, tangible ways—whether through providing support in their daily lives, helping with work, or encouraging healthy habits. Your way of showing love often involves cooking nutritious meals, assisting with tasks, or offering advice on wellness and self-improvement. You may be drawn to careers in caregiving, healing, or service-oriented professions. Taking care of pets, maintaining a structured lifestyle, or engaging in activities that promote well-being can also be deeply nurturing for you. Your own sense of security often comes from having a stable routine and feeling useful to those around you. Ceres in the 6th house has the tendency to overwork yourself or place too much of your self-worth on how much you do for others. You may struggle with perfectionism or neglect your own needs in favor of helping those around you. Ensuring that your caregiving doesn’t turn into self-sacrifice and that you also prioritize your own health and well-being.

Ceres in the 7th 🏡: Ceres in the 7th house expresses nurturing through relationships, partnerships, and one-on-one connections. You feel most fulfilled when you can care for others in a way that fosters harmony, balance, and mutual support. Your way of showing love involves emotional presence, fairness, and being a reliable, supportive partner in both romantic and platonic relationships. You may be drawn to partners who are nurturing themselves or who appreciate your caring and attentive nature. Commitment and partnership are deeply tied to your sense of security, and you likely feel most comfortable when you have strong, supportive relationships in your life. You may also enjoy mediating conflicts or offering emotional guidance to those you love. Ceres in the 7th house can give too much in relationships or to depend on others for validation. You may prioritize taking care of your partner’s needs while neglecting your own. The key to balance is ensuring that your relationships are reciprocal, where you receive just as much care and nourishment as you give.

Ceres in the 8th 🏡: Ceres in the 8th house expresses nurturing through deep emotional bonds, transformation, and shared intimacy. You feel most fulfilled when you can care for others on a profound, soul-level, offering them support through life’s darkest moments. Your way of nurturing is intense and deeply personal, often revolving around themes of trust, emotional healing, and shared resources. You may be drawn to relationships where you can play a protective or transformative role, helping others through crises, personal growth, or even financial support. You might also have a strong interest in psychology, healing, or spiritual regeneration. Your own sense of security often comes from deep emotional connections, and you may feel a need to merge with others in meaningful ways. There is a potential for control issues, emotional dependency, or fear of loss. You may struggle with letting go or experience power dynamics in your relationships. The key to balance is learning to nurture without attachment, allowing love to be a source of empowerment rather than control. Healing yourself emotionally is just as important as helping others heal.

Ceres in the 9th 🏡: Ceres in the 9th house expresses nurturing through knowledge, adventure, and personal growth. You feel most fulfilled when you can care for others by expanding their horizons—whether through education, travel, philosophy, or spiritual guidance. Your way of nurturing often involves encouraging others to explore new ideas, embrace different cultures, or seek out experiences that broaden their perspectives. You may be drawn to teaching, mentoring, or sharing wisdom as a way of providing emotional support. Your nurturing style is often inspirational, helping others find meaning and purpose in life. You might also feel most cared for when you have the freedom to explore, learn, and experience life without limitations. Ceres in the 9th house can overlook emotional needs in favor of intellectual or philosophical ideals. You may also struggle with restlessness, always seeking the next adventure rather than being fully present. Integrating emotional depth with your love for exploration, ensuring that both you and those you nurture feel secure while embracing growth and new experiences.

Ceres in the 10th 🏡: Ceres in the 10th house expresses nurturing through career, responsibility, and public influence. You feel most fulfilled when you can provide care and support on a larger scale, whether through your profession, leadership roles, or by setting an example for others. Your way of nurturing is often structured, goal-oriented, and tied to achievement—you may see success as a way to provide stability and security for yourself and those you care about. You might be drawn to careers in caregiving, counseling, social work, or any field that allows you to support others in a tangible way. Alternatively, you may have experienced a childhood where responsibility was placed on you early, shaping your view that love and care are connected to duty and ambition. Your sense of security comes from feeling respected and accomplished. Prioritizing work and public image over personal emotional needs. You may also take on too much responsibility for others, feeling like you must always be the provider or protector. Recognizing that nurturing isn’t just about external success—it also involves emotional connection and self-care.

Ceres in the 11th 🏡: Ceres in the 11th house expresses nurturing through friendship, community, and shared ideals. You feel most fulfilled when you can care for others in a way that supports their individuality and contributes to the collective good. Your way of nurturing is often expressed through acts of kindness, encouraging others to pursue their dreams, and being a source of emotional support within social circles or groups. You may be drawn to humanitarian efforts, activism, or group-oriented work that allows you to help others on a broader scale. Friendships and social connections play a significant role in your sense of security, and you likely thrive in environments where collaboration and mutual support are valued. You may also be someone who nurtures through innovation and progressive ideas, helping others see new possibilities for their lives. With Ceres in the 11th house there’s a potential to prioritize the collective over personal, one-on-one relationships. You may struggle with emotional intimacy, focusing more on helping groups than forming deep, personal connections. Ensuring that while you nurture the world around you, you also allow yourself to receive personal care and emotional support from close relationships.

Ceres in the 12th 🏡: Ceres in the 12th house expresses nurturing in a deeply spiritual, intuitive, and often self-sacrificing way. You feel most fulfilled when you can care for others through unconditional love, emotional healing, and acts of quiet support. Your way of nurturing is often subtle, working behind the scenes to provide comfort and care, sometimes without others even realizing it. You may be drawn to helping those who are vulnerable, such as the sick, the lost, or those in need of emotional or spiritual guidance. You might also find solace in artistic, mystical, or meditative practices that allow you to connect with something greater than yourself. Your nurturing style often involves deep empathy, and you may feel the emotions of others as if they were your own. Ceres in the 12th house have the tendency to neglect your own needs, over-sacrifice, or take on the burdens of others without boundaries. You may also struggle with feeling unseen or unappreciated for the care you give. Learning to nurture yourself just as much as you nurture others, recognizing that true compassion includes self-care and emotional boundaries.

[ninasmovingcastle]

on domestic genshin men

by popular demand!

you know he's busy, but having him around is the ultimate source of comfort. when he's off duty, he'll make sure to make the most of your time together. you mean the world to him, and even when he is away, he always keeps a photo of you with him. you become his strength in his most difficult moments, and give him the energy to continue in his strenuous line of work. contrary to popular belief, he is an excellent cook, and loves to spoil you with all the food you love <3

↳ cyno, kaeya, tartaglia, neuvillette, heizou, kinich, ayato

he gives you all his hours, spending each precious moment with the person dearest to him. he'll plan his whole life around you, making sure he's giving you ample time and attention before considering other tasks. he won't let you lift a finger, taking care of household tasks when you're away, and his priority is always to make you as comfortable as possible. he'll carry you to bed if you fall asleep somewhere else, watching over you while you rest <3

↳ haitham, tighnari, diluc, itto, zhongli, baizhu, venti, wanderer

to keep you safe, he distances himself. his line of work is just too dangerous- it would put you at risk if you settled down in one place. he would never forgive himself if you were hurt because of him, so he uses different methods to communicate and remind you that he cares. he visits you at any chance he gets, never empty-handed. after all, it's the least he can do for you. he is honoured to be your lover, and your protector <3

↳ xiao, kazuha, albedo, wriothesley, gorou, aether, dainsleif

[asyatarot]

who's protecting you..

remember! it's a general reading, so take what resonates and leave the rest.

masterlist.

my readings.

rules.

1 > 2 > 3

photos by @honeyluvsw

1.

Your protection may come from someone who operates discreetly or even in ways that aren’t immediately visible to you. There may be someone working behind the scenes to shield you from harm or to prevent a potential threat from reaching you. This protection might not be fully transparent, but it is there, operating in the background. Message from tarot says, that your own inner power is a significant source of protection. You possess great courage, resilience, and emotional fortitude that shield you from challenges. Whether or not you recognize it, your ability to stay calm and composed, even in difficult times, offers you a level of protection. This might also point to someone who admires your inner strength and supports you because of it, reinforcing your personal resilience. You may see it or not, but are probably very lucky with people around you. Someone might be offering you material or emotional support, whether it's through a fair exchange or out of goodwill. This person could be providing resources, guidance, or assistance to keep you secure and balanced. Your protection comes from both unseen efforts and your own strength, as well as the help of others who provide support when needed.

2.

I think, that some people who chose this pile, may have some unhealthy attachment, addictions, unhealthy habits, relationships, etc.

Someone or something is protecting you by preventing you from falling into a negative situation or becoming trapped by your own fears or destructive patterns. Protection comes in the form of breaking free from a toxic environment or influence. Someone may be helping you see the truth and empowering you to break free from harmful cycles. You are protected by your own ability to stand your ground. You are defended by your determination and your ability to overcome obstacles, even when the odds seem stacked against you. You may also have a protector who is fiercely defending your honor or interests, ready to fight on your behalf. Someone might be offering you help, whether in material resources, emotional support, or guidance. This protector ensures fairness and equity in your life, offering you the support you need.

3.

Your protection comes from someone who is alert, vigilant, and intellectually sharp(like from your spiritual teacher). This figure might be a protector who is quick-witted and perceptive, always looking out for potential threats or dangers. This person is likely someone who uses their sharp mind to guide and defend you, possibly offering insight or advice to help you avoid pitfalls. Alternatively, you have your own ability to think on your feet and recognize situations where you need to protect yourself. Protection is coming from someone who believes in balanced exchanges, possibly helping you when you're in need or ensuring you receive what you deserve. It may be someone who gives without expecting anything in return, offering you financial or emotional assistance to keep you safe and secure. You are protected by a sense of emotional well-being, possibly from someone who ensures your happiness or emotional stability. It could also point to a protector who cares deeply about your happiness, bringing joy and comfort into your life.

[hayatheauthor]

Hello! I just found your blog and I love it!! How would I write a good protag's best friend character (or sidekick but not really) Much appreciated!!!

Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took me forever to get to it

How to Write a Protagonist’s Best Friend (Without Making Them a Sidekick!)

A great best friend character does more than just stand beside the protagonist, here are some tips to help you capture that:

What Makes a Best Friend Character Strong?

A well-written best friend character has qualities that make them stand out on their own. Here’s what sets them apart from a generic sidekick:

They Have Their Own Story – They shouldn’t exist just to serve the protagonist’s journey. Give them goals, conflicts, and motivations that intersect with the main plot but don’t revolve around the protagonist.

They Balance the Protagonist – A best friend should contrast the protagonist in meaningful ways. Maybe they challenge the protagonist’s worldview or complement their weaknesses with different strengths.

They Change Over Time – Just like the protagonist, they should grow. Their relationship with the protagonist should evolve based on the events of the story.

For example, in Percy Jackson, Grover is not just comic relief—he has his own mission (finding Pan, proving himself as a protector), and his strengths (resourcefulness, empathy) balance Percy’s impulsive nature.

What Role Should They Play in the Plot?

A best friend character shouldn’t just be there for emotional support—they should impact the story. Here are some ways to make sure they play a meaningful role:

Driving the Plot – Have them take actions that change the course of the story. Maybe they uncover crucial information, make a decision that alters the protagonist’s fate, or even become a source of conflict.

Acting as a Foil – A best friend often highlights the protagonist’s strengths and flaws through contrast. Are they more cautious while the protagonist is reckless? More idealistic, while the protagonist is cynical?

Having Moments of Leadership – The protagonist shouldn’t always be in charge. Let the best friend take the lead at times, making key choices that drive the story forward.

Common Mistakes to Avoid

Even well-meaning writers can accidentally flatten a best friend character. Here’s what to watch out for:

Making Them One-Dimensional – If their entire personality is “supportive and loyal,” they’ll feel like a cardboard cutout. Give them flaws, ambitions, and struggles.

Using Them as a Plot Device – They shouldn’t just show up to deliver emotional support or conveniently solve problems for the protagonist. They need to have agency.

Forgetting Their Growth Arc – Just like the protagonist, they should be affected by the events of the story and change accordingly.

A common complaint about Ron Weasley’s character in later Harry Potter books is that he sometimes feels like just a sidekick, while Hermione and Harry have more direct influence on the plot. Had Ron been given more individual agency in key moments, his presence might have felt stronger.

How to Develop Their Relationship with the Protagonist

A strong friendship isn’t always smooth sailing. Consider:

Conflict & Tension – Friends fight. Maybe they disagree on how to handle a situation. Maybe one feels overshadowed by the other.

Moments of Distance – Do they ever drift apart? Are they forced into situations where they can’t rely on each other?

Loyalty vs. Individuality – The best friend doesn’t always have to be on the protagonist’s side. Maybe they make a choice that goes against the protagonist’s wishes.

Examples of Well-Written Best Friend Characters

Here are some standout best friend characters and what makes them strong:

Samwise Gamgee (The Lord of the Rings) – Sam is fiercely loyal, but he’s also stronger than Frodo in many ways. He makes tough calls, pushes Frodo forward, and carries both emotional and physical burdens.

Inej Ghafa (Six of Crows) – Inej is Kaz’s closest ally, but she doesn’t just follow him blindly. She has her own sense of morality, her own trauma, and her own dreams beyond him.

Peeta Mellark (The Hunger Games) – Peeta isn’t just a love interest—he challenges Katniss emotionally and strategically, making choices that directly impact her fate.

Robin (Stranger Things) – Unlike the stereotypical “supportive best friend,” Robin has her own quirks, insecurities, and motivations that make her dynamic with Steve stand out.

These characters don’t just exist to assist the protagonist—they challenge them, change them, and make the story richer.

Tips to Make Your Best Friend Character Stand Out

Here are some practical ways to make sure your best friend character is strong and memorable:

✅ Give them distinct personality traits – Don’t let them blend into the background. Make sure they have mannerisms, speech patterns, and habits that set them apart. ✅ Let them struggle – Just like the protagonist, they should face obstacles that force them to grow. ✅ Make them essential to the story – If you could remove them from the plot and nothing would change, they’re not well-integrated enough. ✅Let them ride solo – Just because they're friends doesn't mean they have to be glued to the hip the entire story! Maybe they get separated during a key arc, have a bit of tension that splits them (think Ron and Harry) or have different offices/schools/hobbies. ✅ Show their relationship evolving – Friendships aren’t static. The ups and downs should feel natural and meaningful.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[cherriibombfics]

I saw your requests are open but it’s totally fine if you don’t want to do this :)

could you do a self aware crk with a Knight Baker?

Like the Baker is from the modern world but super into medieval history and fighting, owns working armor, sword and knows how to use it?

"ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ꜱʜɪɴɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴍᴏʀ"

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 369

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴀ/ɴ: ɪ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇᴀʀᴄʜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀᴄᴄᴜʀᴀᴛᴇ. ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɪꜰ ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ!

ᴠᴀʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇꜱ x ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⟡ EARTHBREAD was no stranger to knights, great warriors, and protectors of the realm from all kinds. But you, you weren't from this realm at all, and so many different cookies wanted to protect you from the world you found yourself in. You, however, were much more willing to do the protecting.

⟡ Knight Cookie in particular would be ecstatic that you were a knight like him (which is no surprise), and having a suit of armor yourself? He'd have so many questions about them. What are they made of? How long have you had them? Can he try them on? There would probably be some differences from our world and theirs, naturally, but he'd listen intently all the same.

"I'm not sure my lance is as impressive as your sword, Baker."

"It's not the weapon that matters Knight Cookie, it's the wielder that makes a difference."

⟡ Your intensive knowledge of Medieval History would probably catch the eyes of some scholars. After all the history of the realm you come from is important. Even if you might get a little carried away.

"Sir William Marshall was said to be the greatest knight that ever lived for his great combat skills. He actually served five English kings throughout his lifetime. And he was the only man to ever unhorse Richard I according to some sources!"

"Baker, I appreciate your enthusiasm but I asked what you wanted for lunch."

⟡ Your sword skills would make you victim to constant requests for sparring matches with the best warriors around. They don't want to hurt you of course, but the chance to battle with the greatest knight around is too good of an opportunity to miss.

"I challenge you a duel Baker! I shall prove to you my strength and honor!"

"Raspberry Cookie you're a very good fencer but please, it's 3am."

⟡ The Cookie Kingdom didn't only have a benevolent ruler, but a protector as well. A knight donning a suit of armor and blade from another world entirely, full of magic beyond mortal comprehension. Some say that if you find yourself in danger near its walls, you'll be saved by this knight, and they'll leave as swiftly as they appeared.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct Yandere TWST x Fem Reader Monster AU pt 40

(Trein is a Sphinx and as a Sphinx he loves riddles, knowledge, and history. He has already heard most riddles in Twisted Wonderland, so the Human sharing riddles with him is rather welcome and entertaining to him. He walks with a permanent limp on one of his back legs, as it was maimed by the Undying Ursus Major- ancestor to all Ursus Minor and nigh unkillable giant bear- while protecting his students. He almost lost the leg- and probably should have had it amputated- but now he walks with a permanent limp and is permanently lame on that leg. He does not regret saving his students.)

Warnings: inky issues, yandere, yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, manipulative behavior, two mature platonic yanderes having a chat, blot potion, injury, jealousy/envy, MC needs a nap/break, gross imagery, the needs of the many vs the needs of the few, perceived violence, abuse (not towards reader), blood,

~~~~~~~~

A solemn Shinigami stood, looking out over the sleeping dorm that held his greatest weakness and his greatest strength within. Even is own descendants were resting- for once- and he had tucked them in himself so their night would not be disturbed. Centuries spent in blinding agony, suffering the full weight of his withdrawal and certain he would die in that pain as well.

Having the source of his agony and the source of his drug of choice so close by was soothing to the great and ancient man. The veil of agony lifted and the soft voice of that Human- trusting and kind- acted as a balm for the ragged pain that consumed him so deeply. He would be lying if he said he didn't wish to permanently move into the run-down dorm to keep that Human safe and protected by his own strength.

Still, he was curious to why the Human was so resistant to blot and part of him wanted to see how a full Overblot could be soothed by the Human in question. He didn't wish to put the Human in harms way, nor did he wish to put any of the students through something as damaging as an Overblot just to soothe his curiosity. Perhaps the continued research and studying would prove fruitful.

"You sure are up late."

The elder was somewhat startled by the sudden voice, turning quickly to see the Human-esque shape of the Yeti that had been hired to aid the Human. Though his role was to teach all the students on paper, his role as a protector and teacher to the Human came first. Still, it spoke volumes to his ability to sneak up on the old Shinigami without being noticed.

"Shinigami don't sleep often, and sleep less the older we get."

"Guess that explains it."

The Yeti stood next to the Shinigami, looking at the quiet and still dorm that seemed to loom in the darkness. With the blanket of night came the threat of ill-intended poachers and all manner of beast drawn to the soft Human everyone craved on a primal level. Perhaps it was the Shinigami's mind dulling with his ancient age, but the Yeti was a comfort as a second pair of eyes watching the dorm and protecting the treasure within.

"I had assumed Yeti to be diurnal, is that not the case with you?"

"My sleep schedule has been messed up for a while. Most Ferals and Poachers prefer to mobilize at night, but I needed the information of those awake during the day to find the wretched hives they claimed as home."

"Your reputation precedes you. I hear you have brought down many a Feral in your time."

"I've heard the same about you. I've even heard that you've gone against the Beast more than a handful of times. Most can't even face it once without it costing their lives."

The elder frowned at this, knowing the ancient and cataclysmic threat he spoke of. A beast twisted into the form of a bear that slept deep in the bowels of Sage Island's mines, fathering equally cursed young that wandered deathless through the land. It was a creature that destroyed everything in its endless search for death.

"Yes, that beast is best to remain unbothered. Even one such as yourself would fall before it."

"I don't doubt that. If you struggled against it, I have no chance."

A comfortable silence passed between the two as the dorm seemed to remain quiet and those within continued to slumber. Though the Shinigami knew more than he would ever let on, it was nice to speak with someone that descended from the same branch as Humans. For the Yeti, he was humbled to speak so casually with the ancient being that had seen ages in his long and storied life.

"I have a question of sorts for you, Lord Hades."

"Yes, child?"

"Humans aren't as magicless as we believe, are they?"

"They cannot wield magic, so are considered magicless."

"But they impact others in a different- almost magical- way, correct?"

"... That is correct. In my studies of their kind, Humans are... Addictive. Being around them even for a short time forms an addiction. Depending on how that addiction is 'fed' determines how it takes hold of a magical being's mind."

"So, for argument's sake, touching them makes an addiction to their touch?"

"Yes. Touching them is addictive. Looking at them is addictive. Tasting their skin is addictive. It was not the full fault of the species that consumed them. One taste of a Human's flesh was enough to sink anyone into obsession, needing and craving more until it drove them mad."

Clay frowned at this, thinking back to the odd behavior of the old Bat Fae that had thrown himself into the arms of the Human. The red crimson that the Bat drank down so greedily, filling his stomach with ambrosia. It can't have been coincidence.

"... So the Bat is harming himself on purpose."

"What?"

"That Bat Fae, the impish one that follows the footsteps of the Dragon, he begged (Y/n) for her blood, starving himself until he could get another taste."

This concerned the Shinigami deeply, having already known Lilia was keen to drown himself in his addiction, but not knowing how far it had already gone. If he has gotten a taste of her blood, how long until he wanted more than just blood from the soft Human they all adored?

"He needs to be watched, and needs to be limited if he has already decided to partake after starving himself. It does no good for one of her guards to crave her in such a way-"

The Shinigami fell silent as movement caught his eye. Both fixating on the dark shapes emerging from the dorm and setting the pair on high alert. None should be awake at this time and the fact that such an indeterminate sized group was awake was no small cause for concern.

"Something's wrong."

Clay said, immediately setting after the scurrying group without another glance back at the Shinigami. Something was certainly wrong or would be soon, and that was enough to prompt the Shinigami to follow suit.

~•§•~

You clung to Rook as he scuttled quickly to the school, his Spider legs giving him a speed that had Sebek and Silver struggling to keep up. The events prior to this panicked 'flight' replaying in your head. Rook had been so desperate to seek your aid that it made it difficult for you to deny the Drider despite the protests from your ever faithful Dragon.

It made it even more difficult to demand he stay behind.

~~

"Absolutely not! If he is planning to Overblot, you should be nowhere near him!"

The Dragon had snarled and was clearly concerned for you, trying everything he could to keep you safe in the dorm. He didn't want to face yet another situation where he failed to protect you from harm. He couldn't endure such a thing yet again.

"I can't just let Vil do this! If he is acting this way because of me, then I need to do something to stop him!"

"No, (Y/n), it isn't safe!"

"I don't care if it is safe or not! This is Vil we are talking about! If he Overblots, what happens to his life, to his future?"

You had yelled back at the Dragon who tried to keep you from going anywhere near the begging Drider that continued to plead for help. Time was short and arguing was only pissing that time away when there was little to waste. Even if you knew it was Vil responding to his own addiction to you, the weight of what could happen to him was suffocating you.

Vil was an actor and model who loved his many colors and prided himself on his control. If he Overblots, all of that cultivated beauty and effort he has dedicated his life to may as well be meaningless. His feathers would dull, his pristine face would tear, his life- as he knew it- would end.

All because of you.

You didn't ask for this. You didn't want this. You wanted to go home where the world wasn't addicted to you and vicious because you simply existed. But you couldn't just ignore a genuine plea for help.

You needed to help him, or at least try.

"Malleus, please. I need you to stay here and watch Grim-"

"Absolute not! I-"

"MALLEUS!"

The Dragon flinched at your tone, everyone wincing and curling in on themselves from your intensity. If they valued your happiness as much as they claimed to, he would have no choice but to listen.

"I need you to stay here and look out for Grim. If we all storm Vil, he will feel trapped and may Overblot on his own. I just need to get to him before that happens. If we can stop Vil, I will bring him back and I will be sharing the nest with him to make sure he doesn't tip over that edge until he can get himself under control again."

"The nest is not for outsiders-"

"I don't care if you don't want it, this is my nest now and I choose who gets to be in it. I understand you made this nest, but it is still mine. Tsuno, I need you to be here for Grim and I need to go to Vil. I would do the same for you if you were on the verge of Overblotting. Let me be there for those that need me."

There was a clear worry and stress in the Dragon's eyes as he stared in silence at you, the tension high in the room. Your mentioning of doing the same for him made that tough outer shell break, his eyes full of worry as he stared at you. Just another thing for him to adore you for, your kind heart wanting to keep himself and the others safe, even if it meant stopping them from self destructing.

"... Very well, but you will be taking Silver and Sebek with you. Understood?"

~~

Now Rook scuttled through the school, almost losing your duo of knights in the many twists and turns. Part of you was interested in how Rook could scurry along the walls so seamlessly as he never lost speed in his frantic pace. You had little time to dwell on such things given the situation at hand, but it was something to keep in mind for when you next had a chance.

As the Drider rounded the corner towards the Potions classroom, a sickening glow could be seen from beneath the door. Rook was quick to throw the door open and you both were stunned as the Harpy came into view.

He was laying collapsed on the floor by a dark inky cauldron that was mostly full, bubbling thickly with a potion of liquid shadows. Next to him was what remained of a lovely crystal vial, shattered and in pieces with more of that viscous potion clinging to the remnants. The potion itself was crawling out of the cauldron, leeching and spreading across the floor before up into the open mouth of the Harpy who lay with a deathly stillness.

You didn't wait for Rook to respond as you slid from his back, running to the collapsed Harpy. Seeing him up close was even more disturbing.

Vil's body had the slightest of tremors to it, as if trying to fight the potion that willingly poured itself into his mouth. His eyes were rolled back, the veins slowly darkening with black as his body weakly shook, unable to fight the aggressive bile. His chest did not rise or fall, stuck and choking on the viscous liquid that forced it's way into his mouth, his nose, his eyes, and anywhere else it could find entrance.

Tears rolled from the suffering eyes of the Harpy as the potion choked and suffocated him, almost whimpering sounds fighting to escape his chest. Who knows how long the potion had been choking Vil as he lay unable to fight back against the liquid taking residence in his body. Given the cauldron was mostly full and slowly moving, he must have been suffocating for only a few moments before you and Rook arrived.

"Vil!" You screamed out as you collapsed to your knees next to him, the black inky substance beginning to slide towards you instead, "Vil, please!"

The Harpy either didn't hear you, or he couldn't respond, too engulfed in the potion that sought refuge in his body. More footsteps let you know that Sebek and Silver had caught up, but you refused to take your eyes off of Vil. The thick potion was at your thighs now, sliding up your skin to seek entrance into your body as more began to gurgle from the cauldron.

"Little one, get back! That potion will take you too!"

A familiar voice you couldn't place at the moment screamed out in stress to you, but you didn't care. If you could take blot from those around you, perhaps you could stop this dark sacrifice from taking over Vil. The blot needed a host, and though it was trying to consume the lovely Harpy, it seemed more drawn to you.

You only had seconds to choose, and you hoped you would choose right.

Lifting the Harpy's body into your arms, you gave the blot the fastest way to be absorbed into you and crashed your lips into his. The potion responded immediately.

That inky darkness drew itself out of the Harpy and shoved back into your throat, the tendrils clawing into your nose and eyes as it abandoned the previous prize of the weakened Harpy and instead chose a new host. It was suffocating and despite how your body convulsed in an effort to stop the liquid, it pushed further. You couldn't stop the gagging as your body filled with the globulous ink that choked you. Still, you refused to drop the Harpy, your arms locking up as the potion eagerly abandoned its previous host.

Darkness swirled in your eyes and consumed your vision, leaving you tumbling down deep into shadows.

~•§•~

The Cervitaur and Raiju attempted to rush forward, to stop or lend aid however possible, but the large Shinigami stopped them. It would do no good to let the other younglings fall to the same potion that now covered and coated their beloved Human. Both screamed and writhed against the firm hold of the Shinigami who refused to let them closer. He couldn't let them throw themselves away so easily, even if it was for the Human.

Rook was able to escape the hold of the Yeti, his legs and flexibly helping him as he grabbed whoever he could to pull them out of the writhing mass of ink. The body he tugged on came loose easily and from it he pulled a shaking and convulsing Vil. Even as he wrenched the Harpy free from the hold of the blot, any trace left on him squealed and rolled back into the larger blob that still held the cherished Human captive.

Any attempt to sink his arms back into the blob were ineffective as it shoved both Drider and Harpy back, refusing to give up its quarry held within. The potion almost seemed alive in how it writhed, slowly losing size and shrinking down as more forced its way into the Human. Clay had to drag a frantic Rook and limp Vil to stop them from being consumed or trying to reach the Human.

"Non! Release me! Mon Trickster-!"

As they fought to free themselves, the collapsed Harpy slowly began to come around. His head was spinning and his very being ached in pain as he slowly lifted himself from the stone floors of the classroom. He looked up to see the inky abomination he created trying to consume the one he longed for.

He did this.

In his desperation to be noticed and finally acknowledged by the soft Human everyone seemed to love, he created a monster. A monster that tried to consume him and choked him so agonizingly slowly he had longed for death before it was being ripped back out of him. That cold pain from the blot was nothing he had experienced before and now he had thrust that suffering onto the very one he loved.

Clay was too busy and too focused on Rook to realize the Harpy had regained himself, unable to stop the feathered student from rushing forward, slamming a heavy lid down onto the cauldron and forcing it to sever the connection between the tendrils of ink and the deep pools of blot inside the cauldron. Successfully severing the link from the source, the remaining free blot screeched and scurried faster into the form of the Human, trying to escape into the limp body.

The potion still inside of the cauldron fought to escape, but a swift binding spell from the elder Shinigami kept it contained as Vil tried unsuccessfully to get that remaining blot away from the choking Human. Escaping through his fingers like smoke, it sank into the skin of his beloved.

"No!"

The Harpy cried and tried to fight the inky shadows that faded from view, settling inside the slightly convulsing body. He couldn't let his own blinded and misguided plans take the Human away from him so easily. To think, the one he refused to harm and longed for the attention of was the one who suffered his arrogant folly.

He had been so consumed by his jealousy that he had willingly sent his own faithful Hunter away on a fool's errand to get components he didn't need, completing his potion without witnesses. The intent was to only have a small bit of that potion, just enough to trigger an Overblot, but instead it latched itself to his face. Vil didn't even have the chance to scream as it flowed into him and choked him, agonizingly slow and bringing all of that negative thought to the surface of his mind.

What a fool he had been!

~•§•~

You felt lost, tumbling through shadows and left adrift in a sea of ink that smothered out all light. Only darkness seemed to remain inside and outside of your body, leaving you wandering the shadows of pain and suffering. Voices murmured and babbled mindlessly around you, the feeling of hands grabbing at you and tearing your soft flesh as if each hand could take a chunk from you for themselves.

Despite how you tried to flail and fight back against the hands, your limbs hit nothing and you felt as if you were thrashing uselessly. Drowning in the darkness that sought to consume you. No hands were touching you, yet you felt like you were being torn to pieces by unforgiving claws.

Eventually the loud wailing of a child came to the front of your mind and you were shoved from the shadows into an unusual scene. Around you were the opulent walls of what had to be someone's home, expensive looking furniture strewn about as if a fight had taken place. Intricate carpets were shoved to the side and lay as haphazardly as the furniture.

"Disgusting little whelp! You should have never been born!"

The screeching voice of a woman compelled you forward, exiting the room you were in to see a truly heartbreaking sight in the next. What looked like a young and downy feather covered Harpy child was sobbing, trying to seek shelter beneath a heavy metal and stone table. His rounded face was almost unfamiliar to you, but the blond and purple ombre hair gave you a good idea who this child was.

Above the table- clawing with hands and taloned feet- was a lovely Harpy woman with vivid purple and blue feathers. She was hissing and seemed to want to attack the poor child that was screaming for help as he hid beneath the table. Though she could not reach him, and did not seem to have the strength to get through the table to get to him, that didn't stop her from trying.

"Mommy, please-!"

The child cut off with a crying yelp as the Woman's talons caught his shoulder, leaving a deep and bleeding cut. His soft downy feathers became sticky with the red blood as he sobbed and screamed. The woman screaming back.

"Do not call me that! Never accuse me of mothering such a wretched and hideous Feral brat like you! You took everything from me!"

"Please, stop, mommy! Please, I'm sorry-!"

"Silence, you wretch!"

You couldn't stop yourself from running forward, trying to shove the female Harpy away as she attacked the child again. As you reached her, your hands and body went right through her and you realized this must have been the same as when you saw Alistair's haunted memories. Instead, an adult hand gripped the Harpy female and threw her backwards, away from the weeping child.

The man who had thrown her looked eerily similar to Vil, only his strong jawline made him more masculine appearing compared to the lovely Harpy you knew. If you had to guess, the two adult Harpies were Vil's parents, and his mother was the one attacking him.

"Don't you dare stop me, Erik, that hideous brat deserves death for what he did to me!"

"Get away from him, Calliope! Vil did nothing to you-"

"That Feral is why I can't have any more eggs! He ruined my life!"

"He is a child! He did nothing to you-!"

The female screeched, this time turning her violence against the Harpy male that stopped her. The two Harpies fought viciously, tumbling out of the room in a flurry of hisses and wings as they battled. Before you could follow, the sudden feeling of something wrapping around your leg made you look down in surprise.

Large violet eyes filled with tears looked up at you, seeking comfort after the painful experience he had at the hands of his own mother. His shoulder above his left wing bled and it was clear the child version of Vil was barely holding himself together. A lost child seeking comfort from the only place he felt he could receive it.

"Vil..."

You couldn't help but fall to one knee, pulling the sobbing Harpy boy close as he whimpered into your shoulder, gripping your shirt tightly in his little fists. He shook and flinched every time another loud bang was heard from the room adjacent where the adults continued to brawl. He couldn't have been a day older than five.

"Please don't ye-yell at me... I'm sorry..! I-" the chick hiccupped and sobbed, his little face flushed with red as he squeezed his eyes shut and held tighter to your leg, "I'll be- be a good boy, I s-swear!"

"He deserves death!"

"How can you say that about our chick? He's just a boy! Where did all of that love go when we incubated his egg?"

"How could I ever love such a wretched little beast? That monster took everything from me! And if you can't see that, then maybe neither of you are worth loving!"

A loud bang followed the hissed argument and the house fell into silence. Young Vil shivered and sobbed into you, slowly fading away from your view and back into the darkness you had been adrift in before. Your time spent in the shadows was shorter, but no less suffocating as you where thrown into yet another scene.

A young teen Vil stood with his back against a wall, his wings wrapped around him to protect himself as other kids of various species threw stones at him. They were jeering and laughing any time Vil yelped from another lobbed stone as they continued to pelt the Harpy.

"We don't want villains like you here!"

"Go back to your tree, Harpy!"

"Get out of here, freak!"

Again you tried to intervene, and again you phased through them unseen and unheard. Part of you wanted to scream in frustration and pain, but even if you did, no one would hear it. Instead, help came in the form of a fluffy white furred boy with an elongated muzzle and bright yellow eyes.

"Leave him alone!"

The other children ran when they saw the Wolf charging at them, scrambling and tripping over their legs as they fled from the other boy. That same boy who stopped once the rest of the kids had run and turned back to Vil, who had slumped to the ground with his face in his hands.

"Hey... Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"Go away! I don't need your help!"

The teen grabbed one of the stones that had been thrown at him, halfheartedly trying to hit the Wolf that had helped him. That Wolf refused to leave though, approaching and sitting next to the curled up Harpy who eventually leaned against the furred teen, seeking comfort from the one who stood up for him.

"It isn't fair they treat you like that."

"Haven't you heard? I'm Vil the villain... Of course they hate me."

"They shouldn't! You just pretend to be a villain for movies and stuff, I've seen your work and you are so good at it."

"It takes a villain to play a villain."

"I don't think you're a villain."

"You might be the only one..."

The scene shifted once more, this time going straight into the next scene instead of casting you back into the darkness. This scene was a more familiar one, as you recognized the general layout of a Pomefiore dorm room. It was decorated and even the curtains were embellished in golden designs that gave an air of opulence.

"Why is it never me..?"

The soft voice of Vil as you knew him now almost whimpered out behind you. Turning to see the Harpy, a kind of pity pulled at your heart. His mascara had run down his cheeks as he was clearly crying, glaring into the mirror before him with a deep hiss.

"Why can I never be the first choice for anyone? Why do I always have to be the villain..?"

He gripped the frame of the mirror and rest his forehead against it, his nails digging into the wood of the frame. The Harpy let out a sad sigh, looking back up at his face with a wince.

"My own mother could not love me... Why would (Y/n)? I am unlovable... Hideous, disgusting, worthless Harpy. Completely and wholly unlovable... I do not deserve her affection... I do not deserve any of it..."

~•§•~

Coming back into awareness was painful and sudden, your body responding for you as you flipped from your back onto your front. The convulsions were the first thing you registered, hacking and spitting out mouthfuls of the black ichor. It seemed to try and reach back out to you, wanting to return to the host it had chosen, but blue flames ignited it and burned the squealing blobs. Each mouthful squealed and tried to run from the flames, taking refuge inside of the empty cauldrons the others fled to.

As you finally could take a breath, one more sudden rush of mucus covered ink ran screaming from your throat. This one felt like it took all of your strength just to eject it from your body, the hissing of the blob only louder as the blue flames forced it back and into the cauldron with the rest. A sudden lid came down on the cauldron, chains wrapping around it and sealing the squealing beast inside.

Your arms shook, collapsing beneath you as you fell to the ground, panting down the crisp and clean air around you. Each breath was exhilarating as if you had been starving for oxygen while the blot come to life smothered you. A large hand rest against your back, rubbing soothing circles and lifting you from the cold ground.

The figure slowly rolled you into their arms and you noticed the concerned expression of Papa Hades gazing down at you. His worry sparked a stressed feeling in your mind as you vaguely tried to recall what could have upset him so much. Over his shoulder, Silver, Sebek, and Rook let out heavy weeping sobs, trying to console one another and hold themselves together.

You turned your head away from the group, looking for the Harpy whose darkest memories had played across your vision in some macabre video of sorrow. Vil kneeled next to you, weeping just as heavily as the others. One of your hands weakly reached out, brushing against the cheek of the Harpy who startled from the touch.

"... Vil..?"

"(Y/n)!"

The Harpy almost tried to wrench you out if the hold of the elder Shinigami, pulling you close to him with loud sobs of relief. Despite seeming hesitant of the Harpy, Papa Hades allowed the Harpy to hold you. Slowly you felt like you could move again. Certainly worse for wear, but conscious enough to understand the sobbed words of the Harpy.

"I- I am..! I am so sorry, (Y/n)! I will leave Night Raven College, I will leave Sage Island! I refuse to stay where I could harm you again-!"

"Vil."

"I don't want you to leave."

"... Please..." the Harpy whimpered, "... Please don't yell at me... I'll be good and leave you alone... I swear..."

"... What?"

"Vil, do you really think I would come all the way here in the middle of the night if I wanted you gone?"

"... No."

"You made a bad choice, Vil. Did you even stop to think how Overblotting would ruin everything you've worked to achieve? Have you seen Alistair? Riddle? What would it do to you?"

"... It would make me as ugly outside as I am inside."

You winced slightly, having seen the pain in his heart and the weight he carried. The world saw flawless and immaculate Vil Schoenheit, but you saw a weeping child scorned by his mother for simply existing. An adult with a wounded child hidden away in his heart, longing for someone to finally love him when his mother could not.

"Vil..."

You sighed and pulled the Harpy close, kissing his forehead as he tensed in your arms. He eventually melted into it and curled close, cooing at you affectionately and resting his head against your shoulder. His wings lay over you body and you let the Harpy collect himself. It was obvious that though you had absorbed almost all of that vile concoction from Vil's system, he was still drained physically and emotionally.

"Come on."

"... What?"

"We're going to my nest in Ramshackle. It's not as fancy or put together as your dorm, but I really don't think you should be alone right now."

The Harpy smiled gently and genuinely at this, grateful you were not screaming at him as his heart wouldn't be able to take it. The weight of his actions was crushing him and he felt properly miserable, making it hard to even enjoy the fact you wanted him in your nest. It wouldn't have been worth it and he sees that now.

You noticed only the slightest difference in the appearance of the Harpy, the faintest of deep blacks at the edges of his tail and wing feathers, adding a kind of faint striping pattern down the outer flight feathers. Nothing too outwardly destructive, but a subtle sign of the blot altering his appearance if you looked closely enough.

"It seems yet another data point will have to be added to this study."

[genericpuff]

ARES IN GREEK STORY, HE IS PROTECTOR ALL WOMAN, I HATE HOW ARED KIND SEXIST IN LORE OLYMPUS, I KIND WANT ARES IS STILL FEMINIST, IS HE FEMINIST IN YOUR STORY? I FEEL HE IS BECAUSE HE IS CLOSER HIS MOM AND SEE HOW MOST ZEUS HURT HER

a bit of a dicier answer to your second question but:

Just like the widely spread belief that Despoina is the goddess of frost and Persephone went down to the Underworld willingly, there isn't actually much official source on Ares being worshipped or portrayed specifically as a feminist protector of women. He did have affiliations with figureheads who were naturally closely affiliated with ideas of feminism, such as the Amazons - but whether or not sending off a bunch of women to slaughter others for you is considered "feminism" is going to be up for personal debate. After all, many of his own patrons who prayed to him for strength were war mongers who committed vile acts against women.

As for personal debate and interpretation, Ares is a unique god whose biggest domain over war itself isn't a natural part of the world order like Kore's or Demeter's - rather, war is a consequence of mankind's brutality and lust for power and control, a consequence of violence. As such, his domain can represent protection of women, if the patron who prays to him uses his blessings for such an act or if Ares' own actions align with what we could interpret as "feminism"; it could also be just as easily aligned with the societal expectations at the time of his worship, to use violence and male bravado to protect themselves, their wives, their daughters, their families, even if it's to a dangerous fault (what you could now attribute today to toxic masculinity).

But Ares himself? He has traits and stories that are positive, and traits and stories that are extremely negative, as is the case with every god in Greek myth. How those traits are conveyed in media is often entirely based on the perspective of the writer, not solely on the source material itself, as the source material was always up to interpretation and varied depending on the perspective of the writers of said source material to begin with.

Such is the way of violence. It can be used to protect, just as it can be used to destroy.

As for how that factors into Rekindled: how he's planned to be written is complex and complicated. He's not inherently evil just for being the god of war, but that doesn't make him inherently good either. He tries to do right by his family and those that he loves, as any man in that era would be expected to do, but oftentimes the right thing to do pragmatically is also the wrong thing to do morally, and vice versa.

I hope that when Ares does eventually make his appearance in the story he's treated with the same willingness to accept his complex sides as a character like Kore. In many ways, they share a lot of similarities to each other that I'm eager to explore through their eventual interactions :'3 <3

[aspenmissing]

ꜱʜɪᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴋɪʟʟꜱ ᴘᴛ 2

ᴊɪɴx | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ | ᴇᴋᴋᴏ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | || ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 5815 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ/ꜱʜɪᴍᴍᴇʀ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴄᴀɪᴛʟʏɴ | ᴠɪ | ᴍᴇʟ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊɪɴx | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ | ᴇᴋᴋᴏ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ

JINX

It was a cold, oppressive night in the heart of Zaun, the air thick with the scent of oil and smog. The world felt too heavy for Jinx, her mind teetering on the edge of something darker, something that always felt just a little too close. But tonight, there was something even worse lurking in the shadows.

Y/N had always been there for her—like a sister, a steady presence in Jinx's chaotic life. The older woman, warm and patient, had been the first person to ever show her kindness, to let her see the world as something other than an endless series of explosions and pain. Y/N understood Jinx in a way that no one else did. And she never judged.

But tonight was different.

Jinx had seen them—shimmer addicts, the same ones who’d been hunting down anyone they could get their hands on. They had appeared out of nowhere, their eyes glowing with the unnatural light of the mutagen, their bodies twitching and full of fury. Jinx hadn’t been fast enough to dodge them, her head swirling with thoughts of her old friends and of the things she had lost. Her hand had reached for a weapon, but before she could strike, the shimmer-addicts lunged at her, their eyes flashing red.

Then, out of nowhere, Y/N had appeared, her expression fierce as she shoved Jinx aside. The shimmer addict, a man whose body contorted unnaturally from the drug, swung his weapon with a brutal force. Y/N caught it in midair, her strength surprising even Jinx.

"Go!" Y/N shouted, her voice strained. "Get out of here, Jinx! Now!"

But Jinx stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t want to leave her friend, her protector, to face this alone.

Without warning, Y/N had grabbed the shimmer user by the waist, pulling him close, her arms wrapping around him as tightly as she could. The addict flailed wildly, his arms caught in her grip. Y/N’s strength was incredible, but even she couldn’t hold on much longer.

The ground beneath them began to crack, and Jinx watched, helpless, as they both tumbled back. Y/N’s arms tightened around the man just as the pit below them yawned open, swallowing them both into the abyss.

"No!" Jinx screamed, her heart breaking as she tried to reach for Y/N, but it was too late. The darkness of the pit swallowed her voice, and the world went eerily still.

Jinx couldn't remember how long she had stood there, frozen in place, staring at the black void that had taken Y/N away. But the pain in her chest was so deep, it felt like her heart had shattered into a thousand pieces. She hadn’t even had time to say goodbye.

=

The days that followed were nothing but chaos. Chaos flooded her mind—more than it ever had before. Jinx could feel herself spiralling, but there was something else, too.

It was Y/N.

She had started seeing her—hearing her voice in the back of her mind.

"Jinx," Y/N’s voice echoed, soft and reassuring, "It’s okay, I'm still here."

It wasn’t possible. Y/N had fallen. She had to have fallen. Yet, Jinx couldn't shake the feeling that she was still there—watching over her.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could see her: Y/N’s warm smile, her comforting presence, her laugh that made everything feel like it was going to be okay, even when it wasn’t.

But something was wrong. Y/N’s image was fading—blurred, distant, like a faint memory she was struggling to hold onto. And then, the voice. The voice that had once been a source of safety, of solace—now felt hollow, accusing.

"Jinx…"

It was soft, yes, but there was something sharp in it, something Jinx had never heard before. The warmth was gone, replaced with a cold edge. Y/N’s face, when it appeared, was a twisted mockery of the woman Jinx had known. The smile, once bright and full of warmth, had now become a sad imitation, her eyes hollow, like she had been staring at Jinx from a place far beyond her reach.

"Jinx..." The voice spoke again, low and quiet. "You shouldn’t have let me go..."

Jinx flinched, the words cutting through her chest like a blade. She tried to shake it off, to push the hallucination away, but it lingered, relentless, like a shadow that refused to leave her alone. Was Y/N blaming her? Was it her fault Y/N had fallen?

"No... no..." Jinx whispered, tears threatening to spill as she clutched her head, trying to make the voice stop. "I didn’t want you to go. I tried... I tried so hard, Y/N!"

But Y/N’s image only faded and returned, morphing into something darker. The voice was no longer comforting, no longer a source of strength. It twisted in the air, accusing, and Jinx felt herself suffocating beneath the weight of it.

"You weren’t fast enough, Jinx," the voice came again, colder now. "You didn’t save me. You never save anyone..."

Jinx’s breath hitched. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Her hands trembled as the image of Y/N flickered before her, an ethereal, fading presence, pulling further and further away from her grasp.

"I... I was too slow..." Jinx whispered, her voice breaking. "I didn’t mean to... I tried to protect you, I did, but... but I couldn’t... I wasn’t enough..."

The hallucination shifted, Y/N’s form becoming almost unrecognisable now—her face twisted in silent judgment, her eyes now accusing, like she could see every failure, every mistake Jinx had ever made.

"You never could do enough, could you?" Y/N’s voice whispered, now almost bitter. "You let me fall."

Jinx’s heart twisted with guilt and sorrow. It felt like the weight of the world was crushing her chest. The shimmer had taken over her mind, warping her memories and emotions into something unrecognisable. But the guilt—the crushing guilt—was all too real. The things Y/N was saying, the things she had never even thought about before—was it all her fault?

"No, Y/N," Jinx whispered, her hands gripping her head tighter. "Please, don’t leave me like this… I didn’t mean to... I couldn’t stop it."

But the hallucination didn’t respond. It only stood there, the accusing image of Y/N still lingering in the air, forever out of reach.

Jinx’s mind screamed for it to end, but all she was left with was the sound of Y/N’s voice, forever haunting her, always reminding her of what she could never undo.

She had failed. She had failed Y/N. And she would never forgive herself for it.

SEVIKA

Sevika sat at the bar in The Last Drop, nursing a glass of something strong. Her eyes were tired, haunted. She hadn’t been able to sleep properly since that night. The weight of it clung to her—Y/N's face, the last words they'd shared, the warmth of her hand slipping away in the cold.

The glass in her hand felt heavier than usual, as if the very weight of her grief had sunk into the amber liquid. She had no one to blame but herself. No one could have stopped the shimmer addict, the madman who'd killed Y/N. But Sevika couldn’t shake the feeling that she should have been there, that somehow, she should have seen it coming.

Her thoughts drifted back to that night, the echo of the explosion still ringing in her ears. The sudden chaos, the flash of fire, the sound of glass shattering. The alley had been a war zone—a battlefield in the heart of Zaun, where death was all too common. But this time, it felt different. The second that explosion hit, everything seemed to shift, like the very world had spun off its axis.

Y/N... That voice—the soft whisper of her name—still haunted her. Sevika had been only a few steps behind. She'd seen Y/N's familiar silhouette, heard her gentle voice calling out as the explosion rang in their ears.

“Sevika… stay close, I’ll be alright.”

But Y/N hadn't been alright. The shimmer addict had been too quick, too crazed. Sevika had turned just in time to see the man’s wild eyes, the crazed grin, as he lunged toward Y/N with a blade in his hand. The shimmer in his system made him unpredictable, dangerous. Y/N hadn’t stood a chance. The flash of steel, the sickening sound of a blade cutting through flesh. Sevika’s blood ran cold. She reached for her gun, but it was too late. By the time she pulled Y/N into her arms, the damage was done. The woman who had always carried herself with such grace, the person who had offered comfort and guidance to the kids of Zaun, was now nothing but a crumpled, lifeless weight in her lap. No, no, no... Her breath came in short, frantic gasps as she tried to stop the bleeding, tried to do something—anything. But there was nothing to be done. Y/N’s blood mixed with the dirt of the alley, staining the streets she had once walked with such kindness. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, weak and unfocused. She blinked as if seeing the world for the first time. Her lips parted, trying to say something, but no words came. “Y/N… please, don’t…” Sevika whispered, her voice a broken thing, rough with panic. “Please stay with me.” But Y/N’s hand moved—slowly, so slowly—reaching up to touch her cheek. The touch was soft, gentle, like it had always been, but this time, it felt different. There was an emptiness behind it, a finality Sevika couldn’t ignore. “Don’t…” Y/N whispered, barely audible. “Don’t let the darkness consume you… You’re better than that…” The words hit Sevika like a punch to the gut. Y/N had always believed in her. Always believed she could be more than the monster she’d let herself become. Now, Y/N was gone, and all Sevika had was the weight of her dying words.

“Y/N, no... no…” Her voice cracked, and with it, all the years of pain, regret, and fear poured out. Her chest felt like it was being crushed under the weight of the loss. Sevika held onto her, unwilling to let go. I couldn’t save you... I couldn’t... But Y/N’s hand fell limp in hers. Her body grew cold in Sevika’s arms, and the world around her seemed to still. The sound of the distant chaos, the crackle of burning buildings, faded into a hollow silence. Y/N was gone. Sevika couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She just held her, cradling the woman who had meant everything to her. But the minutes, the hours—how long had she been sitting there?—dragged on. The rain began to fall softly, mixing with the blood, washing everything clean, leaving only the memory.

Her thoughts now drifted back to the present. The bar around her felt distant, as if she were no longer a part of this world. The clinking of glasses, the low hum of murmurs from the other patrons—nothing mattered. Nothing could fill the emptiness inside her.

Jinx's voice cut through the fog of her grief. “Sevika…” The younger woman’s voice was soft but insistent. Sevika looked up to see Jinx standing beside her, her wide eyes flicking nervously between Sevika and the empty bottle in her hand. “You’ve been here for days.”

Sevika only gave her a cold stare, but inside, it was like a fist around her heart. Jinx had been there too. She’d lost someone she cared about, and yet, here she was, trying to keep things together. Trying to keep the chaos at bay.

“She’s gone, Jinx,” Sevika muttered, her voice rough with emotion. “Y/N… she’s gone, and I couldn’t save her.”

Jinx didn't say anything at first. She simply reached out, placing a hand on Sevika’s. It was warm against the cold bitterness that had settled inside her. “You didn’t do this, Sevika. You didn’t kill her.”

But Sevika couldn’t hear it. The shimmer addict who’d pulled the trigger was still out there, somewhere. He was the one to blame. He had taken Y/N from her. But the truth didn’t change the fact that Sevika hadn’t been fast enough, hadn’t been there in time. She’d failed.

The last thing Y/N had said to her echoed in her mind: “Don’t let the darkness consume you, Sevika. You’re better than that.”

Sevika closed her eyes, the tears threatening to break free. Y/N had always believed in her, always believed there was a way out of the darkness. But now, there was nothing left but the abyss.

“I’ll make them pay,” Sevika whispered, her voice cold and resolute. “I’ll make them all pay.”

Jinx nodded, the grim look in her eyes matching the one Sevika knew too well. “We will. But you need to pull yourself together first.”

Sevika’s expression hardened as she looked at Jinx. She nodded, her jaw clenched. “I’ll make it happen, Jinx. Just... leave me to it.”

With that, Sevika stood up, leaving her drink untouched. Her heart burned with the need for vengeance, the need to make the world feel her pain. The shimmer addict, the man who had torn everything apart... he would pay. And anyone who thought they could harm those she cared about would learn just how far Sevika was willing to go.

She walked out of The Last Drop, the sounds of the bar fading behind her, as she set her eyes on the streets of Zaun. There was work to be done, and Sevika would see it through, no matter the cost. She would avenge Y/N. The darkness would consume her enemies, not her.

EKKO

The dimly lit streets of Zaun had never felt colder, not even with the biting wind that usually swept through the alleyways. Ekko’s usual sharp, confident steps now faltered, each one dragging him closer to a pain he didn’t know how to deal with. His heart, once filled with hope, now felt heavy—like a weight that threatened to crush him entirely.

The news had hit him like a freight train. Y/N, the one person who had always been there, the one who had made everything feel brighter, was gone. And it wasn’t just any death. She’d been taken from them by someone who had dared to abuse the power of shimmer. A power that was meant to change the world for the better but had corrupted those who wielded it into monsters, willing to take anything, including lives.

Ekko had been there, fighting alongside her, feeling invincible as they always had. But this time, when the battle raged, it was different. He hadn’t been fast enough to save her. His hands trembled as he adjusted the goggles on his face, still not sure if he was seeing things clearly. He had come too late, just in time to see Y/N fall, her eyes filled with an expression he had never wanted to see: pain, fear, and worst of all, the realisation that she wasn’t going to make it.

Her last words were burned into his memory, though he hadn’t wanted to hear them. "Take care of them… Ekko... please..." It was a plea she had made countless times for the people of Zaun, and now it was for him. She had always put others first, always willing to sacrifice for the greater good. And now, she was gone.

But Ekko wasn’t here to make a statement or to seek vengeance. His path was one of healing, of remembering her for what she had been. He could have torn down the shimmer users who had done this, could have thrown his fury into every fight, but that wasn’t what Y/N would have wanted. No, she had always fought for something better, something more than just a cycle of revenge.

=

He stood in front of the mural that now adorned the wall in the heart of Zaun. It wasn’t just a memorial—it was a testament to who she had been, to what she had fought for. The mural depicted her as she had always been: kind, strong, and full of light. Her vibrant energy captured in the strokes of the paint, a smile on her face, her hands reaching out to the children, her heart always giving. And at the centre of the mural was the soft glow of her eyes, filled with the warmth and compassion that had touched every life she had encountered.

The children of Zaun, the ones who had loved her so dearly, were the ones who had painted the mural. It was their way of saying goodbye, their way of giving her something back after all the kindness she had shown them. Their small hands had brushed the vibrant colours onto the wall, their laughter ringing through the streets as they worked—just like she had always encouraged them to do. They had taken something painful and turned it into something beautiful, just like she had.

Ekko’s hand rested gently on the wall, his fingers brushing the image of her smiling face, his breath catching in his throat. She was still with him, in this space, in the memories, in the legacy she had left behind. The city had lost so much, but what Y/N had given would not be forgotten. The wall seemed to echo her spirit, reminding him of all she had fought for—her hopes, her dreams, her belief that they could make this city a better place, even in the face of darkness.

He closed his eyes, letting the memories flood over him. Her laugh, soft and comforting, had always been his safe place. Her endless dedication to the kids of Zaun, always working to mend the torn clothes of the orphaned, always helping without hesitation. The way her eyes would light up when she talked about her work, when she talked about making things better, when she talked about them. She believed in the future, in the people of Zaun, in the children, in hope. And now that hope had been shattered, leaving nothing but the aching void of her absence.

=

Ekko had tried to stop the pain, tried to hide it, but it was impossible. There was no hiding the loss, no denying it. But she wouldn’t want him to give in to the anger, to the darkness that shimmer had brought into their lives. She had always believed in doing better, in lifting each other up.

"I’m sorry," Ekko whispered, his voice breaking for the first time. "I should have been there… I should have—"

His words were interrupted by a soft voice from behind him, breaking the stillness. It was a child, one of the faces that had been painted in the mural.

"You couldn’t have stopped it, Ekko," the small voice said, filled with a wisdom beyond their years. "But we’ll carry on what she started. We won’t let it end."

Ekko turned, surprised to see the group of children standing behind him, their eyes filled with the same mixture of grief and resolve. Among them was a boy who had once been a tearaway, but now stood taller, stronger, his shoulders squared with a new purpose.

"We know," Ekko said softly, offering a sad but grateful smile. "She always taught you well."

The boy nodded, his expression serious. "We’ll change this place, Ekko. You don’t have to do it alone."

Ekko’s chest tightened as he looked at them, at the kids who had given so much of themselves to this city, who had lived through pain and loss, but were now standing tall in defiance. His eyes flickered back to the mural.

"Zaun will change," Ekko murmured to himself, his voice steady now, the storm inside him quieting. "Because she believed in it. And I believe in it too."

The tears that had threatened to fall now felt unnecessary. Instead, he stood tall, resolute. Y/N would never truly be gone, not while there were people here who remembered her, who would carry her legacy into the future. He would continue to fight, not for vengeance, but for the world she had always dreamed of. For the city that she had believed in. He would make sure that her hope wasn’t lost, that her vision for a better Zaun would live on.

"No more shimmer. No more corruption," Ekko said, a fire reigniting in his chest. "Only the work of those like her—who had made the world brighter by simply being in it."

With a final glance at the mural, Ekko turned away, the weight on his heart now transformed into something else. A quiet determination. A promise.

=

He knew that this city, broken as it was, could still heal. He would make sure of it. For Y/N. For all the children whose future she had worked so hard to build. For a world that would always need people like her. And as long as he had breath in his lungs, he would carry her spirit, her strength, her kindness with him.

Zaun would change. And it would change because of her.

Ekko turned to the children once more, his gaze steady.

"We’ll do it together," he said, his voice firm. "One step at a time."

The children nodded in unison, their faces alight with the same determination he now felt burning through his veins. They would rebuild. They would honour her. And Zaun would rise from the ashes, stronger than before.

SILCO

The streets of Zaun were never quiet, but tonight, something felt different. Silco, his face stoic and cold, walked through the alleys with purpose. The clink of his boots echoed in the damp air as he made his way to a familiar, darkened corner of the city. He had been searching for her all night, driven by a gnawing feeling in his chest. Y/N had been gone longer than he cared to admit, but something in his gut told him she was near.

When he reached the spot, the air was thick with the acrid stench of violence and the distinct metallic tang of blood. His eyes flicked to the ground, where he saw her. Y/N’s lifeless body lay in the gutter, blood staining her clothes, the warm glow of her skin already fading. A shimmer user, hunched over her, still thrusting the sharp steel inside her.

Without hesitation, Silco reached for his gun, his anger rising like a tide. His voice was a low growl as he spoke, just loud enough for the attacker to hear, “You. You dare lay your hands on her?”

The shimmer user didn’t even look up. Lost in their frenzy, they didn’t care who was watching. But it was too late for them to make a move. Silco pulled the trigger, the sound of the shot echoing down the street, loud and final. The shimmer user collapsed, their body falling to the cold stone with a sickening thud.

For a moment, Silco stood frozen. His heart raced in his chest, but there was no time for grief. His eyes shifted to Y/N. Her body was still warm, but the life had gone from her, leaving only the shell of the woman who had once been his everything.

He knelt beside her, his fingers gently brushing her hair from her face, wiping away the blood that marred her features. His hand trembled, but he steadied himself, his gaze hardening with a mixture of fury and sorrow.

With a deep, steadying breath, Silco lifted her into his arms. He held her close, the weight of her body in his arms almost unbearable. Her head rested against his shoulder, her once vibrant presence now an absence he couldn’t begin to accept. Every step he took toward The Last Drop felt heavier than the last, each movement pulling him further from the present moment and closer to the aching reality that she was gone.

=

The door to The Last Drop creaked open, the sound almost unnatural in the otherwise hushed atmosphere. Silco’s eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the dimly lit room. The few patrons still inside froze at the sight of him, their eyes darting nervously toward the body he cradled in his arms. Y/N. The weight of her lifeless form was enough to silence the room.

Without a word, Silco moved through the bar, his steps heavy and deliberate. He wasn’t looking at anyone, didn’t acknowledge the whispers that were starting to ripple through the crowd. His gaze was fixed forward, focused on the narrow staircase leading up to their shared room. The only thing that mattered was getting her there.

The creak of the stairs under his boots was the only sound that followed him. The usual warmth of their room now felt distant, foreign. It hadn’t been long since Y/N had filled it with her presence — laughter, light, a sense of comfort that Silco had never truly known until she had entered his life. But that warmth was gone, replaced by the thick, suffocating cold of her absence.

As he gently laid her down on the bed, Silco’s hand trembled ever so slightly. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on the skin of her cold cheek. His eyes, usually so steady and sharp, faltered for a moment, staring at her as though he could will her to wake up. To return to him.

But it was too late. She was gone.

"Y/N..." His voice cracked, the name falling from his lips in a low, broken whisper. "You can’t be gone. Not like this."

He stood there for a long moment, just staring at her. The silence in the room was deafening, pressing in on him from every angle. His chest ached in a way that no amount of rage could burn away. She was gone, and nothing could bring her back.

A dark chuckle, bitter and hollow, escaped his throat. "You always did think you were invincible, didn’t you? But you’re not. And now… now they’ll pay for this." The words came out in a growl, the promise of violence thick in the air.

He turned his back to her for a brief moment, walking toward the window. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. The city of Zaun was out there, sprawled beneath him — a broken, chaotic mess, just like the world that had stolen Y/N from him.

He turned back to her, his gaze fixed on her now-still form. The overwhelming desire to break something, to make the world feel the same pain he was enduring, pulsed through his veins like wildfire. But in the back of his mind, beneath the fury, there was the raw, jagged ache of loss.

"I should have protected you," Silco muttered, his voice shaking. "But now… now it’s just me. And that’s not enough."

He took a step toward her again, crouching beside the bed. He placed a hand gently on her arm, as though touching her one last time might change something, anything.

"Rest now," he said softly, though the words were harder to say than he had anticipated. "Rest. And when I’m done with them… when I’m done with all of them… I’ll make sure no one forgets who you were. No one will forget us."

With that, he stood again, straightening his back. His posture returned to the cold, unyielding figure he had always been. Silco’s eyes hardened once more, but beneath that, there was a quiet sorrow that would never leave him.

He had one last promise to keep, and this time, it wouldn’t be broken.

BONUS: VANDER

The dim glow of the Undercity was never comforting, yet it had become familiar to Vander. The moans of machinery and distant shouts from the slums had been his life for as long as he could remember. But tonight, something was different. The air felt heavier, the silence thick with an unspoken weight pressing on his chest. The kids—Vi, Powder, Mylo, Claggor—were still in their rooms, but Vander couldn’t rest. His gaze drifted to the door, as though waiting for someone who would never come through it again.

Y/N. She had been everything to him—an anchor, a light amidst the madness that surrounded them. But now, she was gone, torn from him by the cruelty of a shimmer-fuelled rage.

=

It had been a quiet evening, the Last Drop bathed in the soft light of flickering candles, the steady hum of conversation swirling around the bar. Y/N had been there, laughing at something silly one of the kids had said, her bright voice a balm against the chaos of their lives. Vander could still see her, standing near the counter, her dark eyes glinting with the warmth that she always brought into the room.

And then the door had crashed open. A shimmer addict, his eyes wide and unhinged, stumbling into the bar. He was high—frantic. The madness of the drug turning him into something far worse than just a person in pain. The scuffle had been sudden, too fast for anyone to react. Someone had shouted, and then everything descended into chaos.

It had happened so quickly, too quickly. Vander hadn’t even realised that Y/N was caught in the middle of it until it was too late. The shimmer user, desperate and panicked, had lashed out. The air was filled with the sounds of broken glass, muffled shouts, and the sickening thud of fists meeting flesh. When Vander had forced his way through the crowd, he found her crumpled on the floor, blood seeping from a wound too deep. Her breathing had been laboured, slow, her once-bright eyes now dimming. She had reached out to him, a final plea in the grasp of her fingers. "I... I’m sorry, Vander," she whispered, the words barely audible. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” “No, no, don’t,” he had begged, his hands shaking as he tried to stop the bleeding, but the life was already slipping from her, the glow in her eyes fading with each passing moment. “Y/N, please, stay with me...” But she didn’t.

The weight of it crushed him, and it was in this darkness that the door creaked open again, pulling him from his reverie. He turned to see the kids—Vi, her face drawn with a mixture of worry and confusion; Powder, her wide eyes too bright, teetering on the edge of something too big for her to fully understand; Mylo and Claggor, standing silent, their usual banter missing, the bravado that always accompanied their steps nowhere to be found.

Vander’s chest tightened at the sight of them. The reality of what had happened settled heavily over him. They needed to know, but the words felt too sharp, too final. He swallowed hard, fighting to push down the bile that threatened to rise.

Powder was the first to break the silence, her voice small, fragile. “She’s not coming back, is she?”

Vander’s heart lurched. The question echoed in his mind, louder than any scream or battle cry. His throat constricted, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. The truth felt too much, too raw. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep the emotions buried beneath the weight of his grief.

“No,” he whispered, the word barely making it past his lips. “She’s not.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. The room seemed to close in on them, the truth hanging heavily in the air. None of the kids were old enough to fully grasp the depth of the loss, but they felt it, just the same.

Vi stepped forward, her usual strength faltering as her hand reached out to Vander. Her face was pale, the mask of composure slipping as the tears threatened to fall. “I’m sorry, Vander,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll keep fighting. For her. For you.”

Vander didn’t respond immediately. He wanted to say something—something that would make it better, make them believe that everything would be alright. But the words weren’t there. Instead, he just nodded silently, his eyes dark, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond them.

His throat tightened, the lump growing, but he had to keep it together. He had to focus on them. On the kids. They needed him to be strong, to help them through this. He couldn’t let himself fall apart, not now. Not when they were looking to him.

His voice cracked as he spoke, but he kept it steady. “You’re right, Vi. We’ll fight. For Y/N. For all of us.”

The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable, but before anyone could speak again, Powder shuffled forward. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around Vander’s waist, pressing herself into him with all the desperation she didn’t know how to express. Her small form trembled against him, as though the weight of the world had descended on her fragile shoulders.

“We’ll make sure you don’t have to be alone,” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm. The words were simple, but they carried the promise of something more—a quiet declaration that they were still here, still together, despite everything.

Vander closed his eyes, fighting the tears that were now burning behind his eyelids. He had to hold it together. For them. His arms found Powder’s tiny frame, pulling her close, holding her as though he could somehow shield her from the pain. His hand brushed over her hair, his grip tightening as he whispered a broken, “Thank you.”

Then his hand moved to Vi’s, pulling her into the embrace as well. Mylo and Claggor followed suit, their usual swagger replaced by something quieter, more solemn. They all huddled together, a group of broken souls trying to find comfort in each other amidst the wreckage of their world.

Vander didn’t allow himself to break. Not now. His emotions, his grief—it was something he couldn’t afford to share. Not when they needed him. So, he kept it buried, hidden behind the walls he had spent years building. His chest tightened, his breath ragged, but he didn’t let it show. He just held them close, his focus entirely on comforting them.

The tears came, but they stayed inside, hidden beneath the surface as he clung to the kids, the ones who needed him to stay strong. The world could burn for all he cared. In this moment, it was just them. The broken pieces of their family, clinging together in the face of something too big to comprehend.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, tangled in their grief and shared silence, but eventually the sobs began to quiet. Vander didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. They would fight, they would carry on. For Y/N. For each other. He just held them, his heart breaking in ways he didn’t dare to acknowledge, his sadness locked deep inside, where it wouldn’t burden them.

And for them, he would keep fighting.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

beefy!masc!wanda who loves scary movies and r hates them, wanda purposely puts them on so r can get scared and cling to her because wanda loves when you need protection and she's the only one there for you

Your Knight

Beefy!Wanda Maximoff x GN!reader

Summary: Wanda wants to watch a scary movie so you'll end up in her arms.

Word Count: 738

Warnings: None this is rather cute and fluffy~

A/N: Happy Summerween even though it's a little early!

Wanda loves scary movies. The thrill of a good horror flick always excites her, but there’s something she loves even more: you. More specifically, she loves how you react to scary movies.

It's Friday night, and you and Wanda are cuddled up on the couch, surrounded by popcorn, blankets, and dim lighting. The perfect setting for a movie night. Wanda knows you hate scary movies, but she can't resist the opportunity to play the protector. She picks a particularly terrifying one, "The Conjuring," and smirks as she sees the apprehensive look on your face.

"Do we have to watch this one?" you ask, already inching closer to her side, your eyes wide with trepidation.

Wanda chuckles, a deep, comforting sound. "Come on, detka, it'll be fun. Plus, I'll be right here. Nothing's gonna happen to you."

You bite your lip, eyeing the DVD cover warily. "Promise?"

She nods, wrapping a muscular arm around your shoulders and pulling you into her side. "Promise. I've got you."

The movie begins, and it doesn’t take long for the tension to build. Each creak and shadow on the screen has you jumping and clutching onto Wanda's arm. She wraps it around you, pulling you closer, and you feel her solid strength beneath your fingers.

"See? I've got you," she whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You can feel her breath against your hair, and it’s oddly comforting amidst the eerie soundtrack of the movie.

A particularly frightening scene causes you to bury your face in Wanda’s broad chest. She chuckles again, but this time there's a hint of pride in her voice. She loves being your safe haven, the one you turn to when things get scary.

"Oh my God, did you see that?" you whisper-shout, peeking out from behind your fingers.

Wanda grins, eyes fixed on the screen. "Yeah, pretty freaky, huh?"

"Why do you like these movies?" you ask, voice trembling slightly as another jump scare makes you flinch.

She shrugs, her arm tightening around you. "I dunno, I guess I like the adrenaline. And, well, I like it when you cling to me like this."

You look up at her, her face illuminated by the flickering light of the TV. "You do?"

"Yeah," she admits, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Makes me feel... I dunno, protective, I guess. Like I'm your knight in shining armor or something."

You snort, despite your fear. "You're ridiculous."

"But you love me anyway," Wanda replies, her smile warm and her eyes twinkling.

You sigh, sinking back into her embrace. "Yeah, I do."

The movie continues, and you're torn between watching and hiding. Each scare brings you closer to Wanda, and she revels in it, her hand stroking your back soothingly. She holds you tighter every time you jump or shiver, her presence a constant source of comfort.

By the time the movie ends, you're practically in her lap, your head resting against her strong shoulder, and her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"You did good," she teases gently, kissing your forehead. "Proud of you."

You look up at her, a mixture of exasperation and affection in your eyes. "You're terrible for making me watch that," you mutter, though your tone is soft, and you can’t hide the small smile playing on your lips.

"Maybe, but you love me anyway," Wanda replies, her smile warm and her eyes full of love.

She’s right. You do love her, even if she tortures you with scary movies. Because at the end of the day, you love how she holds you close, how she makes you feel safe, and how she enjoys being your protector.

"Next time, we’re watching a rom-com," you declare, poking her side playfully.

Wanda laughs, a rich, hearty sound. "Deal. But for now, how about we get some sleep?"

You nod, letting her pull you up from the couch and lead you to bed. As you curl up together, you feel her strong arms wrap around you once more, and you know that no matter what nightmares the movie might bring, Wanda will be there to chase them away.

"And Wanda?" you say softly, just as you're about to drift off.

"Yeah?" she replies, her voice low and comforting in the darkness.

"Thanks for being my knight in shining armor."

She presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips warm and gentle. "Anytime, detka. Anytime."

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @mrsromanovaa

[cielettosa]

LEVI ACKERMAN: WHY HE IS HUMANITY'S STRONGEST SOLDIER

This post contains:

An in depth analysis on Levi's motivations and what underscores them

His view on his strength

Why Levi is so reserved

Why Levi was obsessed with killing zeke

Levi presents a nuanced exploration of the gap between initial impressions and underlying motivations.

While his initial demeanor appears stoic and potentially aloof, bordering on arrogance, a closer look can reveal a profound sense of responsibility and dedication driving his actions.

Levi's act of comforting a dying comrade while vowing to eradicate the Titan threat signifies a deeply ingrained sense of purpose.

This act transcends mere pragmatism, demonstrating an emotional connection to the fallen and a commitment to the collective cause of the Survey Corps.

His vow is a promise to honor the sacrifices made by countless individuals, carrying their collective resolve forward in the fight for a Titan-free world.

He is burdened by the weight of loss yet driven by an unwavering commitment to the ideals and the fallen comrades of the Survey Corps. He embodies the collective hope of humanity, particularly those who dedicate their lives to the eradication of the Titan threat, ensuring that the sacrifices made will not be in vain.

His physical prowess is a defining aspect of his character and role within the narrative.

His strength serves as a pillar of support for those around him. His ability to consistently survive and excel in battle, as evidenced by his reassurance to the dying comrade, instills a sense of hope and security in his comrades. He becomes a symbol of unwavering resilience amidst the constant threat of annihilation.

However, Levi's perception of his strength extends beyond its immediate utility. He views it as a burden, a responsibility inextricably linked to his title as "Humanity's Strongest Soldier."

He recognizes that his superior abilities often come at the cost of countless lives lost around him, leaving him as the sole survivor in dire situations. This realization fosters a profound sense of duty within him.

Levi's strength compels him to carry the memory and legacy of the fallen. He acknowledges that his survival necessitates fulfilling their unfulfilled aspirations and carrying forward the collective resolve of the Survey Corps.

This is exemplified in his willingness to take responsibility for Eren, even to the point of eliminating him if necessary, and in Erwin's unwavering trust in Levi to handle crucial tasks, such as subduing Beast Titan.

While Levi's immense strength grants him immense power, it is not a source of pride or personal gain.

As Kenny said, Levi is a slave to being a "hero".

He feels an immense responsibility to utilize his power for the greater good, becoming a protector and champion for humanity in their desperate struggle against the Titan threat. This unwavering commitment manifests in various ways, from advocating for the desperate measures of feeding civilians to his relentless dedication in the fight against Titans.

Levi's reserved demeanor is a consequence of a life marked by constant anticipation of tragedy and the loss of countless comrades.

His atypical upbringing, from the harsh realities of the underground to the brutal world of the Survey Corps, has instilled a deep-seated expectation of further losses.

This environment makes emotional expression difficult, leading him to adopt a detached exterior as a coping mechanism.

However, Levi's emotional self-preservation doesn't diminish the profound care he harbors for human life. He fights relentlessly for the sake of strangers, suffers immense anguish with each squad he loses, and his empathy for suffering stems from his own deprived childhood, where basic necessities like sunlight and food were scarce.

Throughout the manga, Levi endures a relentless cycle of loss, constantly grappling with the responsibility of being the "last man standing."

He carries the weight of their sacrifices, driven by the unwavering determination to fulfill their shared dream and ensure their deaths were not in vain. This ever-growing burden continues to shape his reserved nature and fuels his unwavering dedication to the fight for humanity's survival.

Levi's unwavering dedication extends beyond his own burdens. He readily takes on the emotional weight of others, particularly evident in his interaction with Erwin.

When Erwin confesses his guilt and internal turmoil regarding the lives sacrificed in the charge, Levi deliberately chooses to shoulder that burden himself.

This act transcends mere support; it is a conscious decision to relieve Erwin of the immense pressure associated with the lives lost.

Levi explicitly states, "I am making the choice," signifying his deliberate assumption of the responsibility.

This choice carries immense consequences. Levi takes on the horror of the charge and the weight of all the lives lost – the recruits who perished and ultimately, Erwin himself.

This decision contributes significantly to the profound weight that burdens him throughout the manga.

It manifests in his overwhelming sense of failure when he ultimately cannot eliminate Beast Titan, and his heartfelt apology to the charging recruits further underscores the gravity of the responsibility he carries.

As the manga progresses, the weight on Levi's shoulders intensifies. Eren, the boy he once vowed to protect and take responsibility for, ultimately betrays humanity, leaving Levi questioning the "awful joke" of the sacrifices made throughout their journey.

The lives he feels deeply responsible for, even going so far as stating to Zeke that he views them as "killed" by their actions, become a constant source of internal conflict and fuel his unwavering determination to continue the fight for humanity's survival.

As Levi enters the final battle, the physical and emotional toll he bears surpasses anything he has faced before.

He loses the last remaining comrade from his friend group (Hange), faces the seemingly impossible task of fighting his former subordinate, and suffers critical injuries, losing an eye and fingers just days prior.

Despite his weakened state, his sense of responsibility intensifies. He refuses to rest even when Armin urges him to, driven by an internal pressure that compels him to fight.

No external force compels him to engage in this final battle; it is solely driven by his overwhelming sense of responsibility.

His determination to protect his remaining comrades manifests in his actions – offering himself as bait for Mikasa, saving Jean, and enduring further injury while saving Connie.

Even while coughing up blood, he maintains a facade of strength, burdened by the weight of being humanity's strongest.

Finally, after temporarily being sidelined due to his injuries sustained while saving Connie, the immense pressure he has been carrying throughout the narrative culminates in a moment of vulnerability.

Levi is forced to confront the "awful joke" of their situation once again. Now physically broken, Levi contemplates his inability to contribute further, succumbing to self recrimination in the face of immense loss, horror, and guilt.

He questions the purpose of their struggle, wondering if it was all in vain.

However, amidst this profound despair, Levi exhibits a remarkable resilience. He reaffirms the idealistic dream that the Survey Corps fought for, recognizing the inherent value of the lives lost and refusing to succumb to regret.

He chooses to look forward, believing in a better future and the potential of the next generation of idealists. Even in the darkest moment, physically unable to walk and coughing up blood, Levi remains the voice of reason, urging Mikasa to pull it together as they are the "only ones left who can kill Eren."

This unwavering commitment to his duty proves the fact that Levi never stopped fighting, even when his own body betrayed him.

Despite being presumed out of the fight, Levi's unwavering spirit compels him to push through his debilitating injuries and excruciating pain.

This final act of defiance proves crucial in both halting the Rumbling and saving countless lives, fulfilling the promises he made to his fallen comrades and granting meaning to their ultimate sacrifice.

In the aftermath, a profound shift occurs within Levi. He acknowledges the immense contributions of his comrades, recognizing that their unwavering dedication fueled his own actions.

The immense pressure and the burden of countless lives he carried finally lifts, allowing him to release the pain he had bottled up for so long.

For the first time, after enduring countless tragedies, we witness Levi shed tears, signifying a release of the emotional weight that had burdened him throughout his arduous journey.

Levi's title as "Humanity's Strongest Soldier" extends far beyond his physical prowess.

It is his unwavering mental fortitude, forged from constant struggle, that truly defines him. He chooses not to succumb to bitterness or resentment, even after facing a lifetime of hardship and loss. Instead, he exhibits an extraordinary resilience, fueled by an unwavering determination to protect humanity.

Many characters within the narrative succumb to the cycle of violence and hatred. They wield their power to inflict pain and dominate others, fueled by the trauma they have endured. Others, like Ymir, become paralyzed by their past, unable to utilize their abilities to help others. Still others, like Zeke, lose hope in the possibility of a better future.

Levi's journey stands as a powerful counterpoint to these destructive tendencies. He demonstrates that even individuals who have suffered immensely, who have every reason to be disillusioned and apathetic, can choose to believe and fight for the betterment of others. He views his exceptional strength not as a privilege but as a profound responsibility, a tool to be wielded for the benefit of humanity and the preservation of individual lives.

Even as the world around him crumbles, Levi continues to exhibit compassion and a desire to contribute positively. He chooses to break the cycle of hate and despair, actively seeking to put more good into a world that inflicted immense pain upon him. This unwavering commitment to hope and the value of human life stands as a testament to the enduring strength of the human spirit, even in the face of unimaginable adversity.

Other analyses by me:

Levi and Kenny

How Levi utilizes his intellect in fighting and decision making and his leadership in final battle

Levi Ackerman (an overall analysis? One of my first one so it's not that good ig)

The Yeagers and the Ackermans I: Their motivations and dynamic

The Yeagers and the Ackermans II: The Similarities and the Contrasts

[beckyninja]

Dread

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemOC (Formerly FemReader)

Warnings: stalking, abduction

Description: Someone is watching Sera from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.

I hope you guys like some old-fashioned horror movie shenanigans. Remember to check out the previous chapters of this series on my Masterlist.

(And feel free to ask if you'd like to be added to/removed from the Taglist.)

The lumens flickered in time with your heartbeat. Your breath came in quick pants as you made your way down the deserted corridor. 

Where is everyone?

It was still the middle of the day cycle. You should be in the midst of a crowd. Cleaning crews pushing brooms. Techpriests on their way to perform interminable Rites of Repair. Fellow medicae running errands for the Lord Apothecaries. 

But the corridor stretched ahead of you, empty and silent. Except for….

Footsteps.

Ceramite boots on metal flooring, the sound as familiar to you as the patter of your own sandals. You whipped around, searching for the source of the heavy thuds.   

“Lord Chairon? Lord Gadriel?”

The corridor behind you remained empty and dim, your protectors nowhere to be seen. A sudden chill sent shivers across your skin.

Perhaps….

You whispered the name in desperate hope. “Demetrian?”

“No.”

Iron-hard fingers dug into your hair, wrenching your head back until you stared into the fiery lenses of a skull helm.

You screamed.

***

“Sera! Wake up!”

Your eyes snapped open. Vesta leaned over your cot, hands shaking your shoulders. Her freckles stood out even more vividly than usual against her white face. You clutched at her sleeping robe.

“Don’t let him take me! Don’t-”

Thin arms wrapped around you. “Shhhh, Sera. You’re all right.”

Slowly, your surroundings came into focus. A room, far smaller than the quarters you shared with Titus. A converted storage alcove, really, just off the main Apothecarion. You remembered Vesta telling you Lord Callistus had requisitioned it especially for her. 

Your cot butted right up against your friend’s, halving the already minimal floor space. Vesta could kneel on her mattress and still lean over yours.

“Sera? Please say something.”

You gasped for breath. “I… I’m fine, Vesta.”

Your friend narrowed her eyes. “Liar.”

“Vesta-”

“You’ve been having these nightmares for weeks, Sera! Are you finally going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

You bit your lip.

Maybe I should tell her. I can trust her.

An image of bloodred lenses in a skull helmet flooded your mind. You shivered.

Tell her what, fool? That the Honored Lord Chaplain of the Ultramarines 2nd Company haunts both your waking and sleeping hours? 

You shook your head. “It’s just… just stress, Ves. I worry for Dem- for Lord Titus.”

Demetrian.

Your heart ached and you clutched at the necklace you never removed.

Where are you? Are you safe? Please come home. I need you!

You sniffled like a child.

Vesta didn’t look convinced, but her eyes softened. “Oh, Sera.”

Her arms tightened around your torso, pulling you into an embrace. “He’ll be back. He won the Laurels, for the Emperor’s sake! What could defeat such a warrior?”

You drew comfort from your best friend’s undimmed optimism. You needed it. With each passing week, your own seemed to fade a little more. You missed your lover’s touch, his strength, the safety you felt in his arms. Nothing could harm you with him near.

Please, Emperor, please! Protect him!

You buried your face in Vesta’s shoulder.

And protect me.

***

“Are you still asleep, girl?”

Lord Callistus’s growl snapped you out of your haze. Looking down, you realized you’d mislabeled an entire row of medicines. Your face burned.

“I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t bark at her, Uncle!” Vesta placed her hands on her slim hips and glared up at the towering Astartes.

You tensed, expecting reprisals. But none came. Instead, the Apothecary’s granite face seemed to soften.

“I am no Space Wolf, child. I do not bark.”

“You could’ve fooled me!” Vesta’s eyes glinted with mischief. “You growl like an old canine.”

“Impertinent creature.” He huffed. “Why do I tolerate you?”

“Because you like me.” 

Another huff. “See this fixed before I regret taking on a personal serf to perform a medica’s tasks.” Turning away, he stomped off, muttering under his breath.

“I do not bark.”

Vesta sighed and came to stand beside you. “Are you all right?”

You dodged the question. “Three weeks, and I still can barely believe what he lets you get away with, Ves.”

She grinned. “He practically raised me, remember? And, as I said, he likes me. Even if it doesn’t seem like it sometimes. Besides,” she began replacing labels, “I only speak like that when no other Astartes are present.”

You could understand that. Again, thoughts of Demetrian pushed into your mind. It was getting harder and harder to push them out again.

A yawn all but cracked your jaw.

“You could ask him for something to help you sleep, you know.”

“Oh no.” You helped Vesta correct your mistakes. “He may like you, but I think I’m a different matter entirely.”

She handed you another vial. “Don’t say that! You’ve been doing a wonderful job here. And you’d know it if he didn’t like you, trust me.”

You arched an eyebrow.

She smiled. “The last medica who truly angered him spent three days and nights scrubbing the Apothecarion with a brush the size of my thumb before being reassigned to Sanitation.”

“Throne! Vesta, if that is supposed to make me feel better-”

“He’d been hoarding pain suppressants and making Guardsmen trade… favors for them.”

“Oh.” You remembered the bloodied, desperate Cadians you’d treated during the Battle of Demerium. “Bastard.”

“Mmmhmm.” Your friend returned her attention to the vials. “I’ve only seen Uncle lose his temper like that once before, when this one Ultramarine Scout shook me after I dared suggest he- but that’s another story.”

You smiled. “You’re very fortunate, Ves.”

“We both are.” Vesta set down the final vial and stretched. “There, all fixed. And just in time for the mid-cycle meal.”

You froze.

A meal. In the Refectory. Five decks away, down the corridors. The long, dim corridors full of shadowed alcoves, sharp corners, flickering lumens, and half-dead candles. The echoes of booted feet-

“Sera?”

You shook yourself. “I… I’m not very hungry, Ves.”

“How can you not be hungry?! You barely touched your ration bar this morning!” She placed the back of her hand against your forehead. “You don’t feel feverish. And I know it’s not that time of the month yet. Sera, please, tell me what’s-”

The Apothecarion door slid open, and a booming voice filled the chamber.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Brother Chairon’s smiling visage drained the tension from your body. “Would you care to join me for a meal?”

***

Chairon listened to the medica chatter on and on, glad Gadriel had decided to forego food in favor of another round in the sparring cages. The Sergeant had made no secret of his distaste for the bubbly female. 

“The Lieutenant may have asked us to watch over his personal serf, but that does not mean I must play nursemaid to every gibbering annoyance she associates with!”

“Careful, brother.” Chairon had chuckled. “Rumor holds that Apothecary Callistus guards that one with all the ferocity of a mother ursus.”

“The Emperor only knows why.”

He, for one, did not mind the chatter. It was… pleasant to be treated with informality. Refreshing.

Especially from such a pretty little thing.

The Ultramarine blinked at the intrusive thought.  

“Sera,” the medica turned to her companion, “would you please eat? You’re going to need your strength if Lord Callistus assigns another round of supply categorization.”

Chairon turned his attention back to his charge, chastising himself for becoming distracted. Did she look thinner than she had a week ago? The skin under her eyes a few shades darker? 

He frowned. Once, she had stood out amongst the other serfs. A picture of health unusual aboard the battle barge. 

“Are you ill?”

“No, my lord.”

“I have given you leave to call me by name, little one.”

Did her smile seem forced? 

Chairon cursed his uncertainty. He prided himself on recognizing baseline emotions better than some of his more detached brethren.

“I promise I am fine, Brother Chairon.”

The medica, Vesta, glanced his way. He read concern in her eyes as well.

Sera seemed to observe the shared glance. “Is there any news of Lord Titus?”

Ah, an explanation.

He gave her a pitying look. “You ask me or Gadriel the same question each time we meet, little one. I swore I would inform you as soon as I heard anything.”

She looked away, picking at the food on her plate. “Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive. The Lieutenant is blessed to have such a loyal attendant.” Another frown. “Though I confess I am still uncertain why you were not permitted to accompany him.”

She tensed, but said nothing. He studied her, a memory striking him. Just after the Lieutenant’s departure. Finding his serf cornered against a railing by none other than….

“Little one, when the Chaplain spoke to you-”

She stood. “Maybe I am feeling a bit unwell. With your permission, my lord, I think I’ll return to the Apothecarion.”

He stood as well. “I will accompany you.”

“Please, my lord!” She looked almost panicked. “I know my Lord Titus requested you watch over me in his absence, but I cannot bear the thought of being a burden. I can make my own way.”

With a hurried bow, she all but fled the Refectory.

Chairon remained standing, torn as to whether or not to follow. Vesta moved next to him.

“Please don’t be angry with Sera, Brother Chairon. She hasn’t been sleeping well.”

His eyes remained fixed on the door she’d run through. “Oh?”

“More often than not now, I awaken to her screaming. And just last night she grasped me with fingers like ice and said-” She hesitated.

He looked down at her. “What did she say, Medica?”

Vesta bit her lip. “She said, ‘Don’t let him take me.’”

***

You didn’t know how long you’d been running before you realized none of the corridors looked familiar. 

I must have made a wrong turn at the….

You couldn’t remember.

“Warp damn it!”

Pressing yourself into a shrine alcove, you covered your face with your hands. Your eyes burned. Your heart threatened to beat its way out of your chest. Tears wet your fingers before you even realized you’d started crying.

I am so tired. So tired.

Perhaps that was the problem. Insomnia could cause hallucinations, you knew. It was a common enough complaint amongst serfs who’d worked days without rest. 

Yes, that’s it.

Your anxiety about Demetrian robbed you of sleep, and therefore of rationality. There were no eyes in the dark. No skulls watching from empty doorways. No following footsteps-

Thud.

Your heart stopped.

Looking up, you realized you stood alone in the corridor. The lumens flickered. The empty passage seemed to stretch on and on in either direction.

“Emperor….” You whimpered, torn between the urge to flee and the urge to hide.

No. No no no! It’s not real. It’s not-

Thud.

At one end of the corridor, the lumens crackled and went out entirely. You tried to tear your eyes away from the patch of darkness, but couldn’t. Something stood there. A darker silhouette in the shadows.

You couldn’t breathe.

The red lenses appeared first. Then the skull helmet. The figure you’d seen out of the corner of your eye for weeks now. Watching. Always watching.

You’d tried to ignore him, following Titus’s command to stay away. But the sick dread of being stalked day after day wore upon your nerves until you felt on the verge of madness. He invaded your dreams. Stole your appetite.

You clutched at the golden laurel leaf around your neck. 

“Please….”

He stepped toward you.

You ran.

You ran as you hadn’t run since the day you fled your village, as a prey animal runs. Corridors and doorways flew past. Sobs wracked your straining lungs. 

And still the footsteps followed. Closer. Closer!

Tears blinded you. You stretched your arms out, praying for something, anything-

Armored hands caught your shoulders.

“No!”

“Calm yourself, woman!”

You knew that voice. Through blurred eyes, you looked up into Sergeant Gadriel’s perpetually annoyed expression.

His scowl deepened as he stared down at you. “What in the Emperor’s name are you doing here?”

Where am I? How far did I run? Where is-?

With a choked cry, you twisted in the Sergeant’s grasp, staring over your shoulder to see-

No one.

“Woman?” The Sergeant’s voice sounded more confused than angry. “What is-”

“Don’t let him take me! Don’t… don’t let him….”

Your world spun and went black.

***

Voices filtered slowly through to your semi-conscious mind.

“... sure she has not told you anything, Vesta?”

“No, Unc- Lord Callistus.”

“Is the Lieutenant’s serf a madwoman, Brother Apothecary?”

“I will not believe it, Gadriel. The little one is terrified of something, or someone. Which means we are failing in our promise.”

“We have done our duty, Chairon! It is not our fault if she is mentally deficient in some-”

“Shut up, both of you!”

Footsteps. An armored hand against your shoulder.

“It is all right now, girl.” Lord Callistus’s voice sounded more gentle than you’d ever heard it. “Come back. You are safe.”

Your eyes flickered open. You lay on a bed in the Apothecary. You tried to rise, only for a fierce pain in your head to drive you back down.

The Apothecary tsked. “Remain still. You struck your head when you fell.”

Glancing around the room, you saw Chairon glare at Gadriel, who looked affronted. 

“I did not expect her to collapse in front of me!”

“Are your reflexes so poor that you could not-”

“I told you both to be silent!” The Apothecary glared at the younger Astartes. “Vesta, fetch me a mild sedative.”

Your friend complied, but not before shooting you a worried glance.

You tried to speak, to reassure her, but found you could not summon the energy.

How did I get here? Did I have another nightmare?

All your memories seemed so unreal.

The Apothecary looked you over. “Vitals are stable, though your heart rate is elevated beyond what is normal for a baseline.” He humphed. “And you have lost a concerning amount of weight since your reassignment here.”

“Are you overworking her, Apothecary?” Chairon frowned.

Callistus turned toward him, expression stormy. “Do I look like a Black Templar, boy? It is not, nor will it ever be, my custom to abuse my medicae. Such practices are a waste of resources, as are those who employ them.”

Gadriel spoke again. “So, my question stands. Is she unbalanced in some way?”

A long silence.

I am not mad. I’m not! Am I?

Tears threatened again. 

“She is a relatively new serf, yes? Such reactions are not unheard of for those not born and bred to this life. And personal serfs are a different breed. Her separation from her Lord only added to her turmoil.” Callistus glanced at you and must have seen the fear in your expression. “But, this one has proved herself strong before now, and I believe it will pass in time.”

You met the Apothecary’s eyes. 

Thank you.

A corner of his mouth tipped upward. The closest thing you’d ever seen to a smile from the grim veteran. 

Vesta returned with a syringe. Callistus nodded to her.

“Inject the sedative. What she needs most is rest.” A snort. “After the last campaign, most of the serfs on this vessel need rest. I am surprised we have not seen more breakdowns.”

His words comforted you.

Rest, yes. I just need to rest.

Vesta pressed the needle into a vein on your arm with practiced skill. “It’ll be alright, Sera. Sleep now.”

As your eyes closed, you heard Gadriel’s voice once more. “She… acted as though someone pursued her. And, now that I think of it, for a moment I swore I saw the Ch-” His voice stopped.

“What, brother?” Chairon asked.

“No. It is irrational.”

Wait… who… who did you… wait….

But you could not fight the sedative.

***

You awoke in the middle of the night cycle, curled on your side, heartbeat pounding in your ears. All was dark. 

That’s not right. The candles. Who snuffed the candles?

Thud.

You whimpered. 

No. I’m supposed to be safe here.

Another footstep. Behind you. Closer.

This is another nightmare.

Closer.

Wake up. Wake up!

Breathing. Not your own.

“Lord Apothecary?” You forced the words through a bone-dry throat.

No reply. You wanted to roll over, to see. But terror froze you in place.

“Vesta?”

The breathing came from directly above you, now. You squeezed your eyes shut, your hand automatically seeking the laurel leaf around your neck. 

“Demetrian… help me-”

A gauntlet slammed down over your lower face, fingers biting into your flesh. You tasted blood. You tried to shriek, to struggle. But your assailant’s weight held you immobile. 

A deep, dark chuckle.

“Finally.”

The Chaplain carried you into the darkness.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

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[blue-lotus333]

💕Goddesses of love💕

Aphrodite: Greek Goddess of love, beauty, sex and lust.

Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, emerged from the sea in a scallop shell and sailed to Cyprus. She possessed a magical girdle and had many lovers, including Ares and Adonis. Ares killed Adonis out of jealousy, leading to the creation of anemones. Adonis became a god split between the Underworld and Earth due to Aphrodite's love. She travels with the Three Graces and bestows joy, brilliance, and abundance upon mortals. She aids in romantic love and is associated with myrtles, roses, and anemones.

Freya: Norse Goddess of love, war, fertility and magic.

Freya, the Norse goddess of love and ruler of war and death. She mediated conflict between warring groups of Norse gods and established peace in Asgard. She is known for her beauty, sorcery, and sexuality, as well as for riding a cat-drawn golden chariot. Freya wears a falcon-feathered cloak that allows her to move quickly between heaven and Earth and has an enormous palace in Asgard where she celebrates with the souls she chooses from the battlefield. In one myth, she obtains the famous amber necklace, Brisingamen, from four dwarves by sleeping with them, beauty for beauty.

Oshun: African Goddess of love, beauty, prosperity & femininity.

Oshun is a goddess of love in the Yoruba religion. She is one of the 7 orishas and the source of power for all the other orishas. Oshun has the ability to make all things flow in the universe through her love and strength. She played a significant role in encouraging Ogun, father of civilization, to continue creating. Oshun is the only goddess who can carry messages between the mortal world and the Supreme Creator in heaven. In Nigeria, there is an annual ceremony called Ibo-Osun where women dance for Oshun during a feast of yams, with the best dancer winning Oshun's favor and becoming the village adviser on healing and fertility.

Parvati: Hindu Goddess of love, fertility, harmony and motherhood.

Parvati is a golden Hindu goddess known for love and devotion, forming a holy trinity with Saraswati and Lakshmi. She was born in the Himalayan mountains and embodies nurturing feminine energy. Parvati won over her husband, Shiva, through patience and determination in asceticism. Parvati is the creator of her son Ganesha, the elephant-headed god of wisdom. She is also worshiped for her strength and ferocity. In one legend, she transformed into the fearsome goddess Kali-ma to overcome & destroy demons who threaten the earth, showing her protective nature.

Guan yin: Buddhist Goddess of compassion, love, peace and kindness.

Guan Yin, originally a mortal princess named Miao Shan, was known for her compassion and kindness. Despite her father's cruelty, she devoted herself to helping others and performing miracles. After her death, she chose to remain in human form as a bodhisattva to help suffering beings, eventually becoming a goddess. By simply invoking her name, people can receive protection from harm. Guan Yin is often depicted in a white gown on a lotus throne and is revered by her followers as a symbol of love, compassion & purity. Her devotees often follow her vegetarian diet on her sacred days. Guan yin is not only the goddess of compassion, but the literal personification of it.

Hathor: Egyptian Goddess of fertility, love, womanhood and the sky.

Hathor, ancient Egyptian goddess of love and joy, has been revered for over 3,000 years. Known as the Gentle Cow of Heaven, she provided milk to the Sun God Ra, making him and other pharaohs divine. Hathor created the Milky Way and is often depicted wearing a crown with cow horns. She is worshipped through joyful ceremonies of music and dance and is the most beloved goddess in ancient Egyptian belief. Hathor is also the goddess of the Underworld, protector of females, and champion of romantic bonds. She can appear in different forms and her symbols are the sistrum and hand mirror.

Laka: Hawaiian Goddess of love, wilderness, the hula & music.

Laka is a Polynesian goddess of love and wilderness who taught humans the art of the hula dance. She is married to the fertility god Lono, and rain is considered a sacred time for them. Dancers in training build altars to Laka with her favorite flowers and plants, and offerings are taken down to the ocean after performances to thank her for her blessing. She is a Goddess who rules over all vegetation. Plants sacred to her are: maile, Lama, hala pepe, `ie`ie, ki, `ôhia lehua, `ôhelo, and palai.

Aine: Irish Goddess of the summer, love, wealth and light.

Áine is a powerful and loving fairy queen in Irish legend, associated with agriculture, animals, and light. She is celebrated at the Midsummer Festival in Limerick, where people run up her hill to seek her blessing. She is also a survivor of sexual abuse in legends, where she shows strength and guides women to empowerment. Áine is depicted with red hair, a headband of stars, and surrounded by her animals. She can transform into a red mare who is unbeatable in speed.

Xochiquetzal: Aztec Goddess of fertility, beauty, flowers and love.

Xochiquetzal was a powerful and complex Aztec goddess known for her beauty and seductive nature. She was worshipped as a patroness of lovers and prostitutes, encouraging love-making for pleasure rather than reproduction. Despite her associations with sexual relationships, she also had the ability to absolve humans of sins unrelated to sex. She was married to the water god, Tlaloc, and was considered a consort to the creator deity, Tezcatlipoca. Xochiquetzal was widely worshipped and honored through great rituals that included acts of sacrifice and confessions.

Ishtar: Mesopotamian Goddess of love, war, fertility and power.

One of the oldest goddesses in the world, Ishtar, the goddess of war and sexual love, was the queen of heaven. Ishtar is considered a member of the special class of Mesopotamian gods called the Anunnaki. Ishtar is often called Inanna, she is also an astral deity, linked to the planet Venus, and was worshipped widely in the ancient Middle East. She was known as the Queen of the Universe and had powers attributed to various other gods. Ishtar was the very first goddess of love, Mesopotamians described her in her many legends and poems as young and strikingly beautiful, with piercing, penetrating eyes.

[microwavesaferat]

No one in Gotham is human.

It's something in the water, it's in the air, it's in the soil. It's rooted deeply into the soul of Gotham, a distinct sense of wrongness that permeates the streets; Gotham has marked every one of her children.

With every chemical that has been dumped in the sewers, every gas attack, every chemical lab explosion, the people of Gotham grow more and more metahuman. Most of the time it's subtle, a greater constitution, thicker skin, higher pain tolerance. You need these things to manage in a place like this and Gotham will do anything to keep her children. Other times, the mark will distort and corrupt those who have wronged Her. The bird-like man who dumps his trash (living or dead) into her bays develops a distinct waddle, unable to laugh without squawking. The man who clouds her air with cloying, heavy fear, that same fear redoubles on him, constantly seeing the smallest movements in the corners of his burlap-covered eyes.

Gotham gives her greatest blessings to her protectors, the knights of the dark, her precious pet birds.

For the eldest bird, who flipped through her skies with a light and joy sorely needed, she let him bend. While yes, he was always a soaring acrobat, now his muscles were elastic and his bones rubber, contorting and molding to his will. He would never notice the mark, but Gotham would know he was hers.

The bird with the clipped wings, girl who was shot down in her prime. She had lost so much and still kept pushing, striving for her father's and mentor's dream to improve the streets of the city. What better gift than the bird's-eye view she could no longer have? While the woman behind the screen may seem omniscient, she is not. That comes from a mix of her own skill and the slight sense in the back of her head of where to look, what to do, where to go. Call it a hunch, but she will always be there at the right place, at the right time.

The second, the twice born, the one that returned to her, she gave her strength. The strength of the underdogs, the looked-down upon, the rejects. He would always find that strength to defend the defenceless, to aid the needy. He chalked it up to the effects of the Pit, but Gotham knew. Gotham gave him the strength she couldn't when he left her reach, in a warehouse, so far from her watchful gaze.

For the inquisitive one, what to give? He had deduced the city's greatest mystery off of his own merit, he had taken his place as a protector, not been handed it. He was stubborn, and committed, Gotham needn't give him any mark. Until, with allies dwindling and hope fading, with his title taken and his family lost, Gotham gifted him that stubbornness he once had. There would only be one problem who couldn't solve, one task that, once he set his mind to it, he would not complete; the source of his determination, what drives him to work through till dawn, to not rest until his job is down.

Then came the blonde one, who was cheeky, and cunning, and oh so determined. The mark that was left was one of laughter, of a smile in the face of anguish, a joke in times of war. She would be a beacon of hope, of the joy to come in her wake. Regardless of what happened around her, she would always be able to crack a smile, such is the optimism that Gotham granted her.

Then came the youngest, the violent child with eyes far older than himself. He was often misunderstood by those around him, he himself would be understanding. He would always know what someone needs, and, more specifically, what the voiceless would need. Gotham did not anticipate that this mark be utilised for his growing farm, apparently the 'voiceless' extends to those who moo or bark, but she was happy regardless. Her children would always surprise, but never disappoint.

Then came another girl, a silent, skilled, deadly girl, with a capacity for great pain, but a will for something better. The child was trained beyond what Gotham could gift her. So Gotham gave her comfort: the ability to hide. she would always be able to disappear into the shadows when needed, a safety so rarely granted to her before.

She will admit that she was not as subtle with her final gift, but that did not matter. While her dark nights defended her people and her streets in shadow, this new bird was a shining light to the public, protecting her people as the sun shone. It was only fair that he shine just as brightly then.

Yes, Gotham loved her children. Regardless of what people thought, she was not a malicious city, and would do her best to protect her own. But who could forget her favourite? Her crusader defending her honor every night, her knight in black armour. To him she gave the greatest gift she could, his birds.