#mare and describing things

[imjulia-andilikecats]

[spozzthewozz]

I have a little headcannon regarding Mare which is that whenever she uses her abilities electrostatic shock often happens for a while like whenever she touches carpet or metal she constantly gets little shocks

[omarfor-orchestra]

What

[littlerequiem]

we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 1

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Explicit Content, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Switch Levi (WC: 6.7k)

( Next chapter / WMTS' Masterlist )

The first time you see Levi, whispered-about-thug and recently-enlisted Scout, you think he doesn’t seem as scary as everyone paints him to be. Sure, he has a hell of a glare, but that’s not the thing that sticks out.

No, what is most striking is the loneliness.

How alone he looks, shadows like bruises under his eyes.

.

.

.

Levi is lost.

He’s not lost in the physical sense, of course.

Levi very well knows where he is. He has repeated these words to doctors so many times he’s starting to sound like a broken record: My name is Levi Ackerman. I come from Paradis Island. I live in Marley.

No, Levi isn't lost physically.

Rather, Levi is lost in the ways often described in novels. Those cheap-thrill books Erwin liked to read so much, the kind that ensured suspense and chest-clutching moments. Usually, it involved a character going on a journey and finding the thing they lost.

“It’s all a metaphor, you see?” Erwin once pointed out.

But Levi did not see the point of metaphors back then, and he certainly doesn’t get it now.

Levi was a soldier for most of his life: so that he could aid the fight against titans, so that Erwin’s vision to help humanity could come true, so that Hange would not be alone in shouldering the weight of it all, so that the world would not crumble under Eren’s actions.

Now, three years after the Battle of Heaven and Earth, his body is changed, and his mind… well, that's the thing that’s lost, isn’t it? He’s still sane, he knows that, but… there's ways he feels himself slipping.

The first two years after the Rumbling were by far the hardest. There was so much to rebuild, so much to do. Levi spent most of his time in makeshift hospitals and infirmary tents. Refugees all around. People who had lost everything, who were in search of a new home, but who lacked the means to do so (Levi never thought he’d have to witness the sight of starving children all over again).

And then, one day, a new start.

Onyankopon was the one who discovered Mare a year ago. He told Levi that it would be the perfect place to retire from his soldiering days. "Mare," Onyankopon said, "is the town where sky meets the sea."

Levi isn’t sure what to make of that idiom; there’s no such thing as a place where sky and sea connect. Another metaphor, perhaps—another thing that flies right above his head.

But he decided to take Onyankopon's proposal there and then. Levi had been idle for far too long, and there was still fire in him, a will to push on.

To keep going, just as he had in the past.

A month later, Levi moved into his new home—a one-story cottage located by the edge of town, overlooking a cliff that descends into sandy shores. It is far enough from the crowds, just the way Levi likes it, while still remaining close to all necessities—just a ten minutes' walk from Onyankopon's home.

Levi's life, as it were, became ordinary. 

Because Levi now has a roof over his head. He has a garden, with a broken fence. A patio, where he watches sunsets. He gets money from Marley for his so-called war accomplishments (accomplishments is a strange word for murder, he thinks). He sees doctors, all kinds of doctors—specialists that didn't exist back on Paradis.

Despite this, his routines have stayed the same. Levi has always been a creature of habit, and that much hasn't changed in his new life.

There’s tea, for one. Despite all the special blends available in Marley, Levi still prefers the tea he drank back in the Underground, made from cheap black tea leaves. Piss water, Kenny used to call it, and maybe the old geezer had a point. The tea is bitter to its core, much too strong for most people to stomach (“I’m going to be on the shitter for days after this,” Hange once declared after trying it.). And yet, Levi likes it this way. 

There’s his knife, the one Kenny gave him decades ago. Levi still keeps it in his boot or tucked under his pillow. He doesn’t hold it out of sentimentality per say; Levi just doesn’t see the point of throwing it away.

As for other patterns in his life, Levi keeps busy. He sees his doctor on a weekly basis; he's taken a job at the local carpentry shop. He tries to improve his body on a daily basis, even when his mind fights him against it. His leg hurts some days; it’s at its worst when it rains. Over the last year, Levi's regained some of his mobility, enough that he can sometimes walk using a cane when his legs aren't too stiff, though most days, he uses a wheelchair. It frustrates him, sometimes, his reduced range of mobility—he misses pushing his body to the limit—but the physiotherapist ensures him that he is just where he needs to be. He feels coddled, and that annoys him.

Then, there are the people in his life. Scarce as they are, they are all that is left of his past and Levi clings onto scraps of conversation where he can find them.

Most of the brats of the 104th are living their own lives. Levi is relieved to see that. When the war ended, he worried that they would linger too much, but they never did. They moved on.

Falco and Gabi, rowdy kids they are, travel from Liberio to see him. They tell him how Falco is taking flying lessons, how Gabi is part of a youth association that’s going to make Marley a better place.

Onyankopon is another familiar face—a talkative one at that. Every time the man stops by Levi's house, he brings something new to show Levi. Sometimes, it feels like Onyankopon is on a personal mission to get Levi up to speed with the new world. Coffee, typewriters, vinyl players… there doesn’t seem to be a thing Onyankopon doesn’t want to show him.

All these machines are met with a somewhat lukewarm reception on Levi’s part.

All except one.

Because if there's one invention Levi is inclined to think is useful, even if a part of him equally loathes it, it's the telephone. Onyankopon was ecstatic about it, and his enthusiasm eventually rubbed off on him too. It's not that Levi likes to use it—the sound waves, the grated voices… they remind him of the sound of planes and machines, of war and guns, and that gets his heart palpating to the point where he sweats (because Levi’s learned that with his growing age, his body sweats faster than ever before, so much so that Levi sometimes has to wash twice a day).

But the first time Levi hears a familiar sound—your voice—on the receiving end of the telephone, his breath stops. His clammy fingers tighten around the phone, and he glances at Onyankopon, who only gives him a thumbs up in response, two dimples appearing on his lifted cheeks.

Levi decides then that the telephone might not be so bad after all.

“Levi,” your distorted voice sounds from the other side, “can you hear me?”

At first, Levi doesn’t know what to say. He’s seen phones, of course; he remembers Hange using them to communicate with Zeke and the Azumito clan. But he never thought he’d use them personally, and that makes his brain go blank.

“Shit, I think I lost you,” you say, the sound of crumbled papers resonating across the line, “Jean, I think the tele-thing you gave me isn’t working properly. Can you—”

“Hey.” Levi’s voice bleeds into the machine, rough like sandpaper. “I can hear you.”

“Oh, good, I thought I wasn’t using this correctly. Gee, isn’t this just unbelievable? Onyankopon promised me he’d work to set up a phone line in your house, I’m so glad it worked! I know these things are costly but, you know, at least we get to talk, even if it’s brief. Of course, I’ll still write you letters on top of that! And hey—Levi, are you still with me?”

“Yeah, dumbass. You’re the one going on a monologue.”

“I’m just excited! Can you blame me? I haven’t heard your voice in… a long time.”

Levi's heart stutters, your words pulling something in him. He’s all aware of how long it’s been (347 days, by his account).

“I can’t wait to see you next month,” you add in a lower voice, as if you were trying to whisper into the phone, words only meant for him to hear. “I’ve… missed you, 'Vi.”

Levi’s throat feels thick when he hears your familiar nickname for him. His mind buzzes with words, words he has long thought about, words he wishes he could tell you.

I’ve missed you too. I want to see you again. Please come back to me.

All things he thinks to himself, but doesn’t say out loud.

Instead, he manages a breathy, “Mhm,” because more feels impossible right now, especially with Onkyankopon so close by.

“How are the brats doing?” Levi asks instead.

“Oh, they’re good! Armin cut his hair recently. He looks like a blonde mini-you or err… I suppose he’s taller than you now.” If you were standing by his side, Levi would definitely have glared at you. But you chuckle, oblivious to his souring mood. “Guess he always did admire you a lot; I think he’s learned a thing or two from your leadership style.”

“That so?”

“Yeah, he’s cool. Doesn’t glare at everything that moves like you, though.”

Levi clicks his tongue. “Still haven’t lost your shitty sense of humor, I see.”

“Hey, you always found me funny.”

“I never laughed.”

“But you always found me funny—I could always tell.”

“Delusional thinking can get you a long way.”

“Anyway.” You huff with an indignant tone. “Aside from that, Reiner and Connie have changed a lot too! Reiner is still pining over Historia…”

“Disgusting. She’s a married woman.”

“Yeah… weird, right? I keep telling him to move on, he’s got so much going for him now. But he’s hopeless like that, they all are. Besides that… well, Jean grew his hair! Think he’s secretly trying to impress someone. He’s applying pomade and everything.”

He hears the sound of muffled protest, “I am not, Doc,” blending with your sentence. It is followed by your hearty laugh as you seemingly tell Jean to scram.

“That aside, they’re all good. Growing into real adults, you know? It feels like yesterday I was doing their first medical checks... just stupid teenagers. Your old Levi squad, huh?”

The second Levi squad, he wants to correct.

“Yeah, sounds like they’re still a real handful,” Levi mutters.

You chuckle. A comfortable silence follows, one that reminds of old times—you and him sitting in front of the fireplace; him reading his reports, you drawing. The cracking of the phone lines almost sounds like splitting logs now, and Levi feels warmth spread from his lower belly to his torso.

He hears your breath through the phone, like you were leaning closer. “Hey, so… less than a month, yeah? You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I told you already, didn’t I?”

“Because if it’s too much, you can still say no.”

“Adler, I promised I’d take care of you all, and that’s gonna be the case until I’m buried below ground.”

“Don’t speak like that, Levi! It’s morbid.” Levi hears the sound of your laughter again. He wonders if your eyelids are crinkling, the way they always do when you laugh too loudly. “But, hey, thanks. I really appreciate your help, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“I wonder what it is like, your new life.”

“S’nothing special.”

“Sounds to me like you’re still selling yourself short.”

“And sounds like you’re still talking nonsense.”

After a year of not seeing each other, you are finally coming back to Marley.

You are finally coming back to him.

Levi wonders what you will think of all the ways he’s lost.

.

.

.

Section Commander Erwin Smith seeks you out in the infirmary one day. He tells you that there’s a wound he wants you to check, one he supposedly got during the last expedition.

“I have the new recruit’s file with me. You might have seen him around,” Erwin says as you inspect the wound. "His name is Levi."

In lieu of a response, you give him a nod, not thinking much of this passing comment. This is probably just patient small talk. 

You should have known better. Erwin Smith isn't a man known for triviality.  

“I’d like for you to keep an eye on him.”  

You pause at Erwin's words, eyes shifting away from the stitches. “What do you mean by that, sir?” 

Erwin leans back in his chair. “Levi's just lost his friends, and that's made his integration... complicated. He's flighty and hot-headed; he refuses to get a medical check. As it stands, that won't do—I need to know that his condition is stable to place him on my squad. I need him operational.”

“With all due respect, most of these duties you’ve listed fall outside my medical jurisdiction.”

“I know.”

You raise a brow. Erwin shoots you an eyeless smile. You finish the stitch. Erwin pulls his hand back, admiring your work, then shifts his focus back on you.

Waiting on your answer.

“I’ll... I'll see what I can do, sir.” 

Erwin stands, interlinking his arms to the back. “I should tell you he’s from the Underground. Will that be a problem?”

“No, sir…" You rise to your feet as well. "Though, knowing this, permission to speak my mind?”

“Please.”

“May I ask what’s so… special about him? If rumors are to be believed, you went through quite the trouble to get him out.”

“I didn’t think you listened to gossip, Dr Adler.”

“I don’t. But if that wound on your hand speaks for the labors of your efforts… well, I think I have cause to worry.”

A low hum vibrates out of him. “What’s so special about Levi, you ask?” Something lights up across Erwin’s face. The intensity of the pendulum swinging his way. “I believe Levi is one of a kind—that with him, we may be giving humanity a fighting chance.”

.

.

.

Today is the day.

The morning shines brightly over the little town of Mare, an endless cerulean that speaks of summer and new beginnings. The sun peaks over the horizon, lingering where the sky meets the sea, a ripple of lavender and peach glimmering over the reflection of the water.

At this time of the day, the wind is at its strongest, a breeze that blows the long strands of grass to one side. Beyond the valleys, there's footsteps dotted across white beaches, only to be ushered out of existence as the waves roll in.

Mare. This little town was nothing but fire and dust three years ago. Today, everything has changed. Houses have been rebuilt, trees replanted, and life has begun sprouting again.

Levi spent the first hours of the day cleaning his house from floor to ceiling—a painful undertaking for him nowadays. The cleaning material stings his bad eye; the positions he has to adopt to clean makes his leg hurt. But cleaning has always helped to ground him, and that much hasn’t changed here.

Luckily, he wasn't alone in his task.

“Yo, Levi! You ready?” Onyankopon calls out. The man came early to help Levi get the house ready, and he's now driving Levi to the train station.

“Yeah.”

Levi grabs his favorite cane, an elegant stick made of dark wood from up north. For the occasion, he’s wearing his nicest navy suit, silver cuff-links, and a matching hat—a gift from you, something you bought him the day the Survey Corps first set foot in Marley. You thought it suited him and Levi’s inclined to agree: he doesn’t look half-bad.

The drive to the train station is uneventful and quiet. Onyankopon asks him if he is nervous, which Levi denies. He's not nervous, not really. He just needs silence to gather his thoughts.

After a year of not seeing each other, he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely.

Will you be happy to see him?

It’s ridiculous, really, all this uncertainty. In all his years as a captain, Levi never stopped to linger on hesitations, on regrets. No matter what it was—grief, rough expeditions, political coups—he trusted his comrades, he trusted Erwin. Levi trusted himself.

That it would be you, now of all times, who makes him this agitated, seems a strange twist of fate. Perhaps it is his growing age that has turned him into a sentimental fool, perhaps it is the knowledge that it is you, perhaps it’s because Levi doesn’t quite know what to make of the uncertainty... but Levi feels restless.

It took Levi by surprise, your letter. Three months ago to the day. Can I stay with you, Levi? you'd written. Just for a little while, until I figure out what it is I want to do next.

You were gone for a year, helping the Alliance become delegates of peace. Now, Armin and the rest are ambassadors, and Levi no longer needs you letters—he gets to read all about their exploits in the newspaper.

And yet, you never stopped writing to him. Levi's glad of that.  

Following all of this, it was decided: of course you could stay with him. Yes, he would help you. When it came to you, there was little Levi wasn’t prepared to do.

And so, with Falco’s and Gabi’s help, he made sure everything was well-suited for your arrival. He got a bed, a night table, a wardrobe, a desk. All of it was arranged into the spare room in his house.

Levi remembers Gabi teasing him about it. “Is she your sweetheart, Mr Levi?”

Levi had just finished fastening a mirror to the wall when she said this; he scowled at the teenager. “No.”

“S’just, it’s an awful lot for an old comrade.”

“Shut up, nosy kid.”

But Gabi raised a point. What were you to him, exactly?

Levi doesn’t know the answer to that question, not exactly. He considers all the people he’s cared about in his life, and he still falls short in finding the right word to describe what you are. He cares for you, that much he knows—he’s cared for you for a long time. It isn’t the same care that he feels when he thinks of his mother, of Isabel, of Furlan, but it’s just as deep. Love, some might call it, but Levi has seldom witnessed it, so he doesn’t know what to make of his feelings.

He supposes if he had to label what the two of you are, it’s connected. Remnants of an old system, a memory of a past when all that mattered was reclaiming the Walls. Two survivors who carry the legacy of those who sacrificed themselves for the cause.

Not that defining it truly matters. Levi’s long accepted his role as the one to carry the torch. He has found stability and peace this way.

Only, Levi wants more for you... even if it means being far away from him.

Yes, it will have to mean being far from him, won’t it? He knows it will. And yet, it doesn’t stop that tiny wisp of something he sometimes feels in his heart at the thought of you—like air, it fills his lungs, begging to be ignited (if you would choose him, he thinks it might).

But Levi’s life was always that of water, and he fears he will drown you if you come too close. 

.

.

.

You glance at the injury on his forearm, gushing red. Those damn cadets, ganging up on the new recruit. Erwin’s gamble won’t pay off if everyone else is hostile to his new prodigy.

“Hey. It’s Levi, right?”

Levi’s gaze flickers to yours. It's the first time you're up close to him. His eyes are striking. Freezing gray, like pale moonlight.

“Who the hell are you?” His voice is deep, slightly grated, but not unpleasant. 

You give him your full name. “But I actually prefer to be called by my last name, Adler, if you don't mind.” His face stays blank. You sigh. “Listen, Levi, I don’t want to butt into your private affairs... But I just came to tell you this: any injuries you sustain from now on, come to me directly, alright?”

"Please. Those cowards were outclassed. They only landed a hit 'cause they played dirty."

"Even so. Don't let that deter you from seeking help; it's important to take care of injuries before they worsen." A pause, one where you weigh each thought carefully. "That said... you also have my word. Those cadets will be punished for what they did to you."

“Yeah, whatever.” Levi glances at your hands for some reason— transfixed by the way you press on his wound with a clean cloth. “So, what are you, some kind of doctor? You heal people?”

Your lips tug into a half-smile. “I certainly try.”

.

.

.

The train groans as it comes to a stop. Levi knows you dislike trains; even on Paradis, when Hizuru helped to install train tracks across the island, you  blanched at the idea of riding in one.

So Levi isn’t too surprised to see you step out of the train carriage on wobbly feet. He takes a step forward, walking into the smoke hissing from the train, avoiding the throngs of travelers passing by. He removes his hat, just to make it easier for you to recognize him.

As soon as you do, your expression lifts.

That smile.

Levi could see your smile for the rest of his life and never tire of it. He hasn’t seen it in a long time, and it tugs at his heart, like a bird flapping its wings.

That you choose to run towards him—your travel bag swinging against your hip, arms dangling by your sides—is no great surprise. If there is something he knows about you, it is your never ending supply of excitement. It makes him want to smile back, but his mouth slightly parts instead.

“Levi,” is the first word that greets him, that swirls through the air and fills his lungs. You seem to catch yourself just a breath away from him, rooted to the spot in front of him. You dip your head down, coy amusement on your features. “It’s really you.”

Levi swallows loudly. He can hear his heartbeat climbing to his head, and he wonders if you somehow can hear it too.

“Your hair has grown,” you say. In the last month, Levi's only kept up his undercut; the top is getting longer now. He knows he should get a haircut, but he's experimenting letting it grow. “It looks good… it suits you.”

The coil in Levi’s stomach tightens. He shields his expression by tilting his head and placing his hat back on his head. 

“Hey, um…” 

“Just spit it out, Adler.”

His peripheral catches a crooked smile. “Would it be alright if…if I hugged you?”

Oh.

That certainly isn’t what Levi expected you to ask. No, he expected many things just not... that.

In his stupor, Levi can't think of the right words to say to you, so he manages a nod instead.

(He’s grateful you ask before you touch him—you always ask.)

And unlike your earlier display of excitement, full of frenetic energy, your hands treat him with more care. They interlace gently around his back. Levi feels his chest lock as your fragrance sweeps across his brain. The scent can only be described as one thing... Home. Levi grows stiff, not knowing what to do with his hands, so he just lets them dangle along his body. You stay put just for a few seconds longer, and when you break apart, there’s something akin to relief on your face.

(Relief for what, he doesn't know.)

Your hands briefly linger on his forearms. “Just needed to do that. My brain can’t make sense of the fact that you’re really standing in front of me. Like you’re not a figment of my imagination, you know?”

Levi’s gut reaction is to glance down. He doesn’t want to see all the ways you inspect him, all the ways he falls short of the portrait you have of him.

His face hardens and he takes a step back, sheltering himself. “C’mon, we’ve been standing here long enough.”

“Alright,” you answer in a tone that’s no less bubbly than before. “Show me home.”

As you walk in tandem, away from the train tracks, Onyankopon comes to greet you. He envelops you into a hug where he lifts you off your feet. You chuckle, patting his shoulders, and when Onyankopon’s eyes find Levi’s, there’s a glint in them that Levi swears is speaking volumes of Onyankopon’s thoughts.

A look that seems to indicate: Should’ve hugged her properly, you damn fool.

Levi promptly ignores that look. Instead, he sets his glare in an altogether different direction.

The walk back towards the car is painful and slow. Levi tries not to let it show, but coming with his cane instead of his wheelchair really was not his brightest idea. He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing sensation shooting up in his leg; his knuckles turn white the more he leans on his cane.

You take notice.

“Is your leg hurting?” he hears you ask.

Levi dismisses your concern with a one shoulder shrug. “S’fine.”

It’s not fine. Levi overexerted himself with cleaning today. The sun is too strong. His leg is throbbing.

Despite that, Levi has no intentions of telling you all about that, because you have a tendency to care, to shower him with attention he doesn’t want, and right now, he just can’t deal with it.

You stop right in front of him. “Hey, are you sure? I can—”

“I said it's fine, didn't I?”

Levi's ears are ringing as he steps past you. Shit—he didn’t mean to snap. Five minutes in, and he’s already screwing this up.

(It's like there's poison on his skin; Levi wants to peel it off.)

But you don’t even seem to pay his temper any mind; you hum and turn to look at the train station’s newsstand instead. From the corner of his eyes, he watches you purchase three lemonade bottles, a hand-out for this summer day. 

The drive back is filled with more words than the journey here. Onyankopon and you engage in easy conversation, talking about all manners of things—how the 104th brats are doing, how the world is looking three years after everything that transpired, how Onyankopon’s husband and family are faring.

Levi sits in the passenger seat next to Onyankopon while you sit in the rear. That doesn’t stop you from leaning forward, your hands resting on the head of the seats as you talk (“Put your seat belt on, Adler.” “It’s on!”). Occasionally, your fingers even tap his left shoulder, a heads up for you to point to interesting things you notice outside. Levi tries to ignore the sparking sensation that’s engraved in his skin.

(Sometimes, Levi wonders if your touch is actually electric.)

“What about you, Levi?” Levi feels your attention settle on the back of his head, drilling heat into his nape. “What do you make of your new home? Mare, the town where the sky meets the sea.”

“It’s fine,” he replies. “The townsfolk are nosy, you’ll fit right in.”

“Consider my interest piqued. I can’t wait to see your new life.” You hum. “I’ve never started over. Not like this. I mean, I suppose I did, once. The last time was when I first enlisted for the Survey Corps a decade ago… phew, that brings back memories. I remember the looks I got from everyone then—they all thought me very strange to enroll.”

“That’s because you were a suicidal maniac, enrolling to save the lives of soldiers who’d soon be titan fodder. Normal civilians usually have safer aspirations, Adler.”

“I’m not sure if you’re one to talk, Ackerman.”

Levi huffs at that. The portrait that flashes through his mind is vivid, as were the words that went alongside them: Him, an ex-thug from the Underground and you, the crazy doctor. A pair of strange misfits, the Survey Corps' gamble in every sense of the word.

“Oh, Walls!” You’re gasping at something behind him, and Levi glances up to see what you’ve seen. It’s the sea—all shades of blue and as mesmerizing as ever. “This is where you’ve been living? Your descriptions in your letters do not do this place justice.”

“What? You expected me to turn into a poet?” Levi grumbles.

“No, but look at this—ugh! It’s everything. The valleys! The beaches! The bay! This feels just like…” you let your voice trail off, not finishing off your words, but Levi knows what you meant to say.

This feels just like the way it was when we first saw the sea.

And yeah, Levi sees your point. The sea here truly does glimmer like jewels, the way Armin always described it, and the breeze does carry that scent of salt that feels like it’s cleaning the air out of his lungs.

Just like it felt to witness it the first time.

“This must be what paradise looks like,” you say.

And just as they pass a curve of the road, something new comes into view: between the soft clouds, a flying boat appears—not one carrying weapons, but instead, carrying with it the tale of a youth whose only sin was a passion for flying.

.

.

.

The medical check is done in silence.

Levi is underweight. His lack of sun exposure has left his skin and eyesight sensitive. You prescribe things to help, though you think some ailments might be a lifelong battle.

When it comes to checking his heart rate, however, that’s when you realize the full extent of Levi’s upbringing. Levi undoes his shirt and your eyes take in the cost of his survival—Levi’s torso, marred with scars. Some of them seem recent, while others are old, stretched-out skin that tells you enough.

These come straight from his childhood.

Just how much violence has Levi witnessed in a single lifetime?

.

.

.

“So?” Levi asks, looking directly at you. He leans his weight against the door’s frame leading to your bedroom, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can redecorate if you like.”

“Why would I do that? This is perfect.���

Levi thinks you might be touched, but he isn’t sure—he was never good at reading your more subdued emotions. Anger, sadness, happiness: those, he can read. Everything in between becomes more complicated.

You continue to step around the furniture of your bedroom, inspecting it like you are discovering details of a new kingdom. Your fingers fumble over the bed frame. “These bed sheets are my favorite color.”

Levi knows. He picked them for a reason.

(He’ll never tell you as much.)

“There’s drawing supplies in the desk drawers,” he says.

He hears it then, the way you suck-in your breath, catching it in the back of your throat. He swerves his attention onto you, only to find you fixing the desk with a stupefied expression.

“You remembered?”

There’s bewilderment in your tone.

Why do you seem surprised? Isn’t this the least you deserve? Levi almost says that there is even more—that he has all your sketchbooks from Paradis, that they were recently delivered by his request. But he abstains from it. He thinks it might be too much right now, though whether it’s too much for him or for you, he’s not sure.

Instead, he just replies gruffly, “It was hard to forget.”

You take a step towards him, eyes softening. “Levi, thank you so much.” You gesture at the room. “For all of it.”

Somehow, those words make Levi want to look away. It isn’t that he doesn’t appreciate you expressing your gratitude, but he’s never known what to do with it served on a silver platter. He prefers to ignore it when he can.

“S’not a big deal.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, glancing towards the carpet on the floor. “Couldn’t let you starve on the streets, now, could I?”

“Hah, I don’t know,” you say softly. You've moved to the windows, your fingers feeling the beige curtains. “You might be underestimating me. I can be very persuasive; I’m sure I’d manage to survive out there.”

“Please. You wouldn’t last a day out there.”

You scoff at him, feigning offense. “And why not?”

“You’d want to help some poor fucker giving you puppy eyes, and they’d just end up mugging you.” Or worse.

“Well, alright. You got me there.” You glance away, raising your fingers to run along the scar on your cheek.

Levi follows your movements, studying the way your hands conceal your old injury. He wonders if it still hurts, if you forget it is there only to be reminded of its existence when you catch your reflection in the mirror.

It happens to him, sometimes.

“Seriously, thank you.”

The gentleness in your tone cradles his ears. Levi takes a step back.

“No need to get emotional on me.” he mumbles.

You chuckle. “Still. Sometimes, it’s good to say things out loud.”

“If you say so.”

Levi turns around, fumbling with the handle of the door. 

But just as he’s about to head out, to leave you to unpack, there's a distinct sound that comes from the other side. Levi hears that familiar "Meow," before he sees the tabby cat sliding in between the cracks of the door.

“Oh..." you say, "what's this?” 

Right. Levi probably should have mentioned this minor detail in his letters.

“Scout,” he supplies, eying the kitten currently rubbing her head against his right leg, a loud prrr vibrating against his calve.

“You… you got a cat?”

"Yeah."

"Like a pet?"

Levi crosses his arms over his chest, tapping a rhythmic beat of five counts against his forearm. “Do you need to get your eyes checked or what?”

You ignore his surly attitude, the same bafflement still present in your tone. “And you named him Scout?”

“Her. She's a female cat.”

You look down at the cat for a moment, your eyes wide like saucers. Then, with a low, hushed tone, you let out a strangled, “Walls, you're a cat dad,” before pinching your lips tightly, like you were trying very hard not to burst out in fits of giggles.

Levi’s jaw instantly clenches. “Stop laughing.”

“I wasn’t laughing!”

“You were about to.”

“Yeah, alright, I was about to.” And then, as if saying those words out loud gave you the right to do as you please, you stifle out a snort, shooting up a hand to cover your half-contained laughter.

This time, Levi doesn’t bother hiding his glare.

Paying this interaction no mind, Scout looks at you with a quizzical stare, her big, green eyes taking you in. Just like you, the feline creature is now discovering the new room and the furniture that goes with it, and she now seems to want to understand what to make of the new occupant that is to share this space.

And so, with a last parting mrrp, the cat skitters towards you, her fast steps tiptoeing against the oaken floor. In response, you crouch down, outstretching a delicate hand in Scout's direction.

With a combination of grace and suspicion that only cats are really able to muster, Scout sniffs your fingers, her slit pupils observing your every movement. Whatever she was looking for must have pleased her, because not a moment later, she lets out a high-pitched mewling sound and rubs her cheeks against your digit.

A smile forms on your lips.

And when you look back up, there’s a sparkle in your eyes that makes Levi’s heart skip a beat. "Oh, she's cute," you coo, scratching Scout's chin. "How old is she?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't ask?"

"I don't speak cat, Adler."

"She didn't have an owner?"

"No, she was alone when I found her."

"Oh."

Levi had found the kitten half-dead under some debris less than three months ago; no one in town knew where she had come from, or how old she was. Most likely, her mother had abandoned her, but it was hard to know for sure.

All he knew is that the kitten had been alone, and that was enough for him to want to help the frail thing. Taking her in was only meant to be a temporary thing and yet, here she still was. 

"Well," you interrupt his thoughts, head tilting as you inspect Scout, "I reckon she can't be more than four months old."

Levi lets out a grunting sound, not really knowing enough about cats to refute or agree with your observations. Instead, he half-turns away, grumbling parting words, “I’m gonna make us some tea while you unpack.”

“Your bitter old tea, huh?”

He means to ask if you’d prefer something else, but it comes out all wrong, again. “Got a problem with that?”

Shit.

Your eyes lock with his.

And your smile widens. “Not at all. This feels like being home.”

Levi clears his throat, turning away. Home. Is it really like that?

No, of course, it’s not.

Home doesn’t exist anymore.

And he’s not the same man you once knew.

A/N: This story has been in the works for the last year, and it's been a very precious project for me. This fic seeks to shed some light on Levi's life after the war, with its ups and down - but ultimately, it's a story of love and healing <3 Furthermore, English isn't my mother tongue, so you know the spiel - don't hesitate to let me know if you spot mistakes, but pls be patient!

( Next chapter / Join my taglist )

[heedeungism]

synopsis: the duke loves you dearly, yes, but how could you possibly know that? includes: bridgerton au, suggestive, profanity , hoon is a rake

as duke and duchess of hastings, it was expected that you produce an heir within the year. being the notorious love match of the season, the diamond and the duke, the image of your family back in london was counting on your ability to ‘perform your duty’, as the ton loved to put it.

sunghoon, your husband, the duke, had been the one to propose the deal. you’d been told your whole life that your interests meant nothing if your husband did not share them, yet he had asked you what your favorite color was. you had been told that horse riding wasn’t ladylike, yet he had shown you his favorite mare and asked you if you’d ever ridden.

he was all the right things, you’d thought. though truthfully, he had one quality you couldn't look past. he was a rake. he frequented brothels, fucked whores, but called on you and gave you the most expensive flowers, and spoke the sweetest of nothings. it was almost enough to look past. you’d thought that you’d be able to get past it, that if he was in love with you enough to propose he’d be in love enough to stop visiting the brothels.

that hope was shattered the moment he’d proposed. it wasn’t romantic, nor was it anything you wanted.

“a deal?” you remember asking when he had looked at you with eyes you had never seen so unfeeling, “or a marriage?”

“you will be allowed the estate. every luxury you desire will be yours.” he had stated, “while i—“

“spend your nights at your beloved brothels?” his face when you had spoken those words had sent your heart into its own frozen hell. “you do not have to explain yourself, your grace.”

and so, the two of you married. you knew that despite the pieces he had left your heart in he would keep his word, and he did. you’d never worn such luxurious gowns nor felt fabric so soft and breathable as your nightdress.

your mama had told you little about what the night of your wedding entailed, only that if a certain event did not transpire the marriage would be null. that event was never described in full to you by your mother, only hinted at by jane austen, and yet it had been nearly a month since your nuptials and the duke had left the space between the two of you alarmingly obvious. the large bed that while you both slept on you did not share, the avoidance of eye contact, and the heat of his hand on yours only for him to pull away before you can let it pool.

on mornings that you allow yourself to sleep in, you are unsure if the ghostly touch along your cheekbone and the gentle tucking of your hair out of your face is your imagination or just the breeze coming from the open window. on nights that you are plagued by the feeling of being undesirable, you can feel his gaze on your back when he thinks you’re asleep.

on a night like this one, you find yourself reaching a point of exhaustion. “your grace.” you greet as you enter his study, the place he would keep to himself and even eat on most nights.

he barely glances up from his paperwork, “do you need something?”

shaking your head, you pull the shawl you have over your shoulders to cover the skin that your nightdress didn’t. the pink color of the fabric was what you had described as your favorite when the duke had asked. it’s the color of nearly every dress you have been provided with since moving into clyvedon. “no, i simply came to inform you that i am having the maids move my things into the duchess’s chambers.”

his interest is piqued, and he finally looks at you. “why ever would you have them do that?”

“is reason needed to move into my own chambers?”

your response garners a look from your husband, “separate rooms shall not be suffered.”

his words cause you to scoff, “yet a silent marriage will be?”

he is silent for a moment before he speaks, “jones.” the butler standing by the door straightens up, “inform the maids that they will under no circumstances move the duchess’ belongings from our chambers.”

“sir.” the man nods, exiting the room and leaving you with your husband.

“will you continue to go about your days acting as if i do not exist?” you question goes unanswered as sunghoon resumes his paperwork. “fine, i will move them myself.”

“you will do no such thing.”

“oh, i believe i will.” you retort and sunghoon stands, hands placed on the desk as his jaw shifts.

“i forbid you.”

the audacity baffles you, frustration turning into fury within the second, “you forbid me?”

sunghoon walks out from behind his desk, stopping beside it, “you are my wife. your hatred i can tolerate but i will not allow the agony of separate rooms.”

“am i your wife?” you ask, watching his hands twitch at his sides and his eyes darken, “we had a wedding, yes, but if we did not spend that night together are we truly married?”

“you speak nonsense.” he dismisses, eyes no longer on you as he turns away, “go to bed.”

“do not speak to me like i am a child—“

“i said-“ he starts, voice raising as he turns back toward you with a darkness in his gaze, “go. to. bed.”

his eyes pierce your own as his voice is low and nearly breathless, you lower your chin just the slightest as your heart aches, “i am not a child, nor am i a fool. i know you do not love me but i did not think you cruel enough for trickery.”

“trickery?” he asks, seemingly clueless as the what you mean.

you begin, “the day we met in that garden i thought you different, kind. you led me to believe such lies, you knew i could not say no to you, you trapped me in a loveless marriage that you knew i did not desire—“

“loveless? if that is what you believe this marriage to be, it is not i who is the cause,” he argues, and you narrow your eyes.

“am i to believe that you love me? have your actions up to this very moment warranted such beliefs?” your question causes your husband’s jaw to shift.

“go to bed.” he looks down at his desk again.

“do not tell me what to do.”

“what do you want from me?” he whips around to look at you. “i have given you riches, i have given you every gown you could possibly desire, i have had the finest soaps imported from india and yet you continue to oppose me. what. do. you. want?”

“i want a husband. not a stranger that i share a bed with, not a keeper.” you state, “i know you do not love me, but if I am to be duchess and produce an heir i deserve better than an absent duke.”

sunghoon remains silent for a moment before his hands clench into fists and his cold eyes meet your own. “call me a stranger, loathe my existence for the rest of your life but never think for even a moment that i do not love you.”

you are stunned into silence, and he continues, stepping closer and closer until your breaths mingle as he says, “i have spent the past fortnights in agony. suffering through the nights i cannot touch you. speaking to you is not enough, nor is being in your company. i have never in my life felt as though i cannot inhale what another does not exhale and yet i find myself suffocating with every moment i am not by your side.”

his fingers ghost over your cheekbone and you find your breath caught in your throat. “i have loved you ever since i saw you in that garden. do not dare question that.”

your lips part and his eyes follow them. your chest rises as you inhale sharply and deeply, attempting to process the words leaving his lips as well as their close proximity to your own. “you…love me.”

your tone is not one of question, and his pleasure in that fact is shown through both his actions and the three words you had yearned to leave his lips since he’d proposed. the same lips that capture yours in a hungry and insatiable kiss that has you in shambles.

your knees buckle, legs turning to jelly, and like he had expected it his arms wrap around you and pulls you closer. his tongue meets yours the moment your lips part and as he brings you to sit on his desk, the pressure of his body between your legs sends a jolt of pleasure you have never experienced before up your body, prompting a choked whimper to escape between the mess of lips and tongue.

“your grace.” you exhale against him, quickly silenced by his lips once again as he breathes you in like you’re the last atom of oxygen on earth.

“your grace.” he responds in kind, hand trailing up your thigh under your nightdress. then, there’s contact and a loud keen that like the rest of them, he swallows with ease.

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

[the-mortuary-witch]

ARES

WHO IS HE?

Ares is the Greek god of war, and battle, courage, war booty, city defence, anger and violence, civil order, virility, and courage and fear. He is one of the Twelve Olympians, and the son of Zeus and Hera. The Greeks were ambivalent towards him. He embodies the physical valor necessary for success in war but can also personify sheer brutality and bloodlust, in contrast to his sister Athena, whose martial functions include military strategy and generalship. An association with Ares endows places, objects, and other deities with a savage, dangerous, or militarized quality.      

                         

BASIC INFO: 

Appearance: Ares is often depicted as a strong and muscular man, with a stern and intimidating demeanor. He is often portrayed wearing armour, carrying a shield, and carrying a sword, representing his role as the god of war, battle, courage, war booty, anger and violence. His eyes are said to be fiery and piercing, and he often has a stern and fearsome expression on his face. His hair is typically depicted as dark and wild, adding to his fierce appearance.

Personality: he is known for being a hot-tempered, aggressive, and warlike god. He is also known for his impetuous and impatient nature, often acting without thinking things through. However, despite this, he is also seen as a protector of the weak and oppressed and is often depicted as being a champion of the downtrodden. When it comes to his devotees, Ares is often portrayed as being a loyal and protective patron, guiding them in battle and giving them strength and courage. He is also known for rewarding his followers with victory and honour in combat.

Symbols: sword, chariot, torch, shield, spear, helmet, and iron

God of: war and battle, courage, war booty, city defence, anger and violence, civil order, virility, and fear

Culture: Greek

Plants: thorns, basil, peppers, chilli, garlic, buttercup, yarrow, ginger, and paprika 

Crystals: onyx, bloodstone, garnet, red beryl, mugglestone, crocidolite, tektite, Picasso jasper, ruby, and crocoite 

Animals: venomous serpents, boar, vultures, eagle owl, woodpeckers, horses, barn owls, and dogs

Incense: dragon’s blood, frankincense, sandalwood, and other strong/spicy scents

Practices: healing (especially from being in the army, witnessing wars, etc), protection, war magick, anger management, shadow work, courage and confidence rituals, and strength

Colours: red, purple, grey, black, and gold 

Number: 4

Zodiac: Aries

Tarot: The Emperor, The Chariot, The Tower, Suit of Wands, Death, and King of Wands

Planet: Mars

Days: Tuesday and Ares Gynaecothenas

Parents: Zeus and Hera

Siblings: Eris, Hephaestus, Eileithyia, Hebe, and several paternal half-siblings

Partner: Aphrodite (unmarried)

Children: Eros, Anteros, Phobos, Deimos, Phlegyas, Harmonia, Enyalius, Meleagros, Kyknos, Thrax, Oenomaus, Cycnus, and the Amazons 

MISC:

Horses: the epithet of the Ares worshiped at Olympia was “Hippios”, “of horses”. Ares was the progenitor of the man-eating mares of Thracian Diomedes. While they are often associated with Poseidon, Ares was often the patron of horse and chariot races, especially onward into Roman times.

The colours red and purple: the colour red is often associated with Ares for two reasons: blood and Sparta. The blood of men is Ares’s food, and his shield was described as always being fresh with gore, so it’s pretty safe to assume Ares was very red and/or brownish red most of the time. His planet, Mars, is the red planet. Now purple may not seem to be very intuitive, but the Thracian warriors and priests wore purple, as did the later Roman emperors, who were always priests of Ares/Mars if not conflated into the same being.

War: in Greek mythology, Ares is associated with war because he is the god of war. He is the son of Zeus and Hera, and is often portrayed as a fierce and violent god, who delights in battle and bloodshed. He is often depicted as leading the gods into battle and fighting alongside them. He is also known for his role in mythological tales such as the Trojan War, where he is depicted as inciting the Greeks to war and arming them for battle. Ares is also associated with the darker and more destructive aspects of war, such as brutality and violence.

Sword: Ares is often associated with swords because in ancient Greece, swords were a common weapon of war and were often used in combat. As the god of war, Ares is often depicted wielding a sword in battle. In Greek mythology, swords were often associated with victory and strength, so it makes sense that Ares, the god of war, would be associated with them. Additionally, swords are symbols of power and authority, which further reinforces Ares’ status as the god of war.

Mars: in Greco-Roman mythology, the Roman god Mars is considered as the equivalent of the Greek god Ares. This equivalence is due to the similarities between the two gods, both being associated with war, military strength, and masculine pursuits. The Romans adopted many aspects of Greek culture, including their gods, and over time the Greek god Ares was equated and syncretized with the Roman god Mars. This led to the Romans viewing Mars as the equivalent of the Greek god of war.

Chariot: the chariot often represents power, authority, and conquest. Since Ares/Mars are the gods of war, they were often depicted driving a chariot, which was a sign of their status as powerful and influential beings. The chariot was also a symbol of speed and mobility, allowing the gods to rapidly move from one battlefield to another and oversee the course of conflicts.

FACTS ABOUT ARES:

Some cities in Greece and several in Asia Minor held annual festivals to bind and detain him as their protector. In parts of Asia Minor, he was an oracular deity.

Ares was caught in an invisible net by the god, Hephaestus, whilst committing adultery with the god’s wife, Aphrodite. 

He assisted the Trojan armies in their war against the Greeks, but was wounded in an encounter with the hero Diomedes and the goddess Athena. 

Ares bestowed a “manly” spirit upon his daughters, the warrior Amazons. 

He is associated with the vulture, eagle owl, barn owl, and woodpecker because he created them with the help of Hermes. 

HOW TO INVOKE ARES:

To invoke Ares, try using unique methods such as creating a personalized altars or ritual space dedicated to him, incorporating elements that you feel connected to. Use unconventional symbols such as a sword, the color red, or a picture or statue of a warrior that you feel represents him. During the invocation, instead of traditional methods, try using breathwork or energy work to connect with his presence. You can also use personalized words and/or symbols as part of your invocation. Most importantly, be original and authentic, and focus on connecting with Ares in a way that feels right for you.

PRAYER FOR ARES:

Great Ares I praise, bold one of the flashing eyes,

Son of mighty Zeus and noble Hera you are,

Beloved of golden sea-born Aphrodite. You take joy in battle, the war-cry is your song.

Strength is yours, peerless warrior, and firm resolve,

And the pure, clear drive to defeat the enemy,the battle rage that pushes us beyond our boundsto achieve victory against a greater foe.

To the weak you lend strength; to the fearful, courage;

To those enslaved, the will to break the stoutest bonds.

Fierce Ares, you whose gifts ensure our survival,

O god of warriors, I praise and honour you.

SIGNS THAT ARES IS CALLING YOU:

Dreams, visions, or thoughts of war, violence, or battle. 

Feeling of restlessness and a desire for conflict or competition. 

A growing interest in warrior culture or military history. 

Strong desire to defend oneself or others physically or mentally. 

A desire for physical strength and power, such as a sudden interest in weight-lifting or physical activity. 

Feeling a sudden connection to warrior cultures or histories. 

Experiencing a sense of determination and resilience. 

A sudden fascination with martial arts or weaponry. 

Feeling of intense energy or passion. 

A sense of being called to a higher cause or purpose. 

Strong connection with the colour red, fire, or other symbols of war and battle. 

Experiencing a sense of connection to animals associated with war, such as horses.

A sense of being on a path of self-discovery or transformation. 

OFFERINGS:

Images of things he is associated with. 

Red flowers. 

Thorns.

Snake skins. 

Iron or steel jewelry. 

Weapons, armor, and shields (art, statues, toys, handmade, etc.)

Statues of horses or dogs. 

Food and drinks: dark wine, whiskey, spicy foods, black coffee, water, olive oil, red meats, honey, beef jerky, pure water, heavy spices, bacon, garlic, and black tea. 

Cigarettes. 

Frankincense or sandalwood. 

Medals, trophies, or ribbons you’ve earned. 

Animal teeth. 

Red, black, and dark purple candles. 

Art or statues of Him. 

Matches. 

Sport drinks / protein shakes. 

Feathers from eagle owls, vultures, woodpeckers, or barn owls. 

Miniature or toy weapons and armor, especially helmets. 

Antiques. 

Photos of riots or past wars. 

Lighters.

Storm water. 

DEVOTIONAL ACTS:

Learn self defence. 

Create a playlist and listen to music that makes you feel brave/empowered. 

Donate to the Rape Crisis Center or other similar programs. 

Tell Him about your accomplishments and fears. 

Learn about shadow work and try it for yourself. 

Cook with garlic or heavy spices that you haven't tried before. 

Donate and support victims of war. 

Try new things and don't feel ashamed about doing so. 

Learn about history, past wars, and past riots; what they accomplished or failed to accomplish. 

Take care of your family and mental health by going to therapy, eating, drinking enough water, and remembering to take your medication. 

Partake in combat sports like martial arts, fencing, etc.  

Exercise. 

Do things that make you feel brave/badass/empower you. 

Learn about the effects of war. 

Play some strategy games like chess, Risk, Civilization, etc.  

Stand up for yourself and what you believe in, write to your governor/mayor for things you want to see changed, attend riots, etc. 

Physical activity. 

Honour his children, Aphrodite, and his companions in battle. 

Learn first aid. 

Pray to Him for strength, ability to fight and defeat enemies, courage, to keep others safe, and help in a battle. 

[kelpweedkelpweedingkelpweeds]

Reading analysis about Cal while screaming into the void known as an empty room and here to publish my unneeded thoughts about my blorbo.

Cal deserved more screen time, he deserved more chapters of his POV and honestly VA did him so dirty 😔

Because our dear RQ characters are definitely unreliable narrators, the reader’s perception of characters is based on their own POVs and how other characters perceive them. Unfortunately, every character describes Cal as a lovesick puppy, a mopey matchstick, a dense moron and everything in between. It's not that these are wrong, they're part of his character, but these are incredibly surface level traits which leads to the general perception of Cal’s character being superficial, bland and boring. It seems like his only purpose in the story is to be Mare’s love interest because Maven betrayed her.

However, he has a whole lot of untapped potential. My man did not get betrayed by Mare, betrayed by his brother, find out his mother was murdered buy Elara, get forced to kill his own father, lose everything he had and got sentenced to execution all in 1 day for people to call him boring. Honestly, when I listed it out like that, I truly realised how crazy the whole situation was. Within the span of a day he lost any form of stability he had even known in his life, and found out that one if not the closest person to him (maven) was a lie. If that isn't traumatic, I really wouldn't like to hear whatever other definition of trauma there is out there. I think the only reason we very much overlook Cal's trauma is because 1. It happened in real time, 2. He's no longer a child, 3. We didn't see it from his POV and 4. In this scene he and his father are technically the "bad guys".

Here's the thing though, he has never talked about it. Not once. Never. The closest we ever saw this man to losing his mind was when he was planning the Corros prison break. He'd never mentioned this trauma from any POV, not even his own. Maven told Mare about how Elara messed up everything in his brain, and how he never recovered from it. For Cal, we never found out how he dealt with it and how close to the brink of insanity he was. If he ever just felt like exploding and destroying everything. Nobody except Mare ever asked him if he was ok. He had every right to go mad. But he didn't. Some miraculous way, Cal managed to maintain some semblance of sanity and that is unimaginable mental strength like holy shit.

Another way too glossed over plot point was why he chose the crown over mare in the epilogue of KC. This one I get genuinely frustrated over sometimes because there were so many reasons for him to make that decision. I know many people have talked about this before but I'm just going to repeat it 1. It's the best political move in the situation. Cal isn't stupid, no matter how many people seem to think he is. He knows better than to let the place of King open for anyone to snatch up and that it was the only way the Silvers and the Scarlet Guard would ever work together. 2. To him it's his moral obligation. Cal's loyalty and sense of duty is a huge part of his character. All his life he's been told it's his responsibility, his destiny to become king and serve the people. Not only that, the crown is his family's legacy and considering the fact that he was the one to behead his own father Cal likely feels even more morally obligated to become king. The words he said to Mare, "I love you and I want you more than anything else in this world". He uses the word "want", but how can a want, a desire ever compare to what he believes is a need, an obligation? It's not that he didn't love mare enough like Evangeline suggested, or that he fell prey to the power's lure like Mare insinuated in the epilogue. He did what he full heartedly believed was right, and unfortunately this was barely touched upon in war storm which made me want to tear my hair out.

This yap session is nearly done, just hold on a bit longer. The last thing that DEFINITELY should have gotten more words was his ultimate decision to abdicate. All we got was him reading Coriane's diary, Evangeline telling him "if it's not too late for me, it's not too late for you" and then the decision. WHERE'S THE IN-BETWEEN THOUGHT PROCESS? He read through Coriane's diary and realised that she wanted her son to have a different life, and of course he probably had some thoughts about it. Considering how he knew the Scarlet Guard and Montfort weren't with him, how he still loved Mare, perhaps realizing what his life could have been with an alive mother was what tipped him over the edge. Perhaps it was loyalty to his mother he never had the chance to know, loyalty to the little of her forever bound in a gold-covered book, buried in the graveyard known as time. Maybe he asked Julian who seemed to want him to reconsider his decision as king, but we'll never know because it wasn't written 😭😭😭

Cal is incredibly kind, loyal, warm, passionate, motivated, and indecisive, and I love that about him. His story could have been a tragedy, a prodigy put on a pedestal that had everything and was forced to be everything, reduced to nothing in an instant. But it wasn't. He found love in a girl that took everything from him, and rebuilt himself a far better life from the ashes of nothing. Normally the circle between characters I like and characters I respect rarely overlap, but somehow this 6'3 adorable ass dork stuck himself straight in both and this is why I will defend what his character is and could have been. Thank you for attending my Tedtalk, it's literally all my thoughts about this man exploding into text and falling onto a Tumblr post.

This is me getting distracted from writing Fated god send help I just can't stay on track

Funny story I wanted to copy this essay into a document for fun just to see how many words and guess who highlighted a portion of it and clicked space by accident. Hahaha (that whole thing was 1000 words btw I need to learn to shut up)

[formerlympp]

Unhappy Hour

Lily was starting to detest happy hours.

Inaptly named things they were, she’d privately started calling them misery hours. She’d have to make it her New Year’s resolution to grow a backbone and start declining the invitations. That, or stop drinking, which might be easier than saying no to kindly Muriel, her generally reserved coworker who turned into a sailor after a couple of G&Ts. After all, her inability to say no to Muriel was precisely what landed her in her current predicament.

“Why don’t you just beg off?” Mary, her roommate, called from the corner of their cramped kitchen. Lily had long thought that her backbone had been imparted to Mary, who had no qualms about shutting people down over the slightest menial transgression.

“Can’t,” Lily called back, the best she could manage without toothpaste slipping down her chin.

“Can’t or won’t? No, don’t bother answering that.” A threatening pause came next, quickly followed by the crinkling sound of paper that Lily knew meant Mary was stuffing a sweet into her mouth. “Oo’ zit, gin?”

“Muriel’s sister-in-law’s cousin’s best friend’s son. Jeff something-or-other.”

“’O no-un.”

“He’s someone surely.”

“No one to you,” Mary clarified in a slightly less muffled voice. “He’s probably no keener to meet than you are.”

“Well thanks for the vote of confidence, Mare.”

Mary appeared in the doorway just as Lily slipped her toothbrush back in its holder. The pair of friends caught each other’s eye in the mirror as Lily started unpinning the rollers from her hair.

“C’mon, since when does anyone look forward to a blind date? Speaking of, you’ve put in a fair bit of effort for this Muriel’s… sister’s… er… whoever’s son. More effort than I’d expect for someone apparently dreading her evening.”

Lily merely shrugged as a reply, uninterested in justifying her pre-date ritual. It was a good ritual, and besides, she deserved to feel like the best version of herself whenever she wanted to.

“Shit,” she exhaled, after catching a look at her watch, “I’m going to be late.”

**

Shockingly, Lily arrived at The Shack, a hip, low-lit bar—“frequented by the young people,” Muriel had told her—ten minutes earlier than the agreed-upon time. She couldn’t stop herself from studying her reflection in the dark glass windows; she brushed her fingers through the mess of curls her hair had become in transit. Breathing deeply and squaring her shoulders, she pushed her way into the bar.

Clusters of people stood every few feet, making the pathway between the tables and chairs into a labyrinth. She wove her way through, an odd determination in her step that clashed with her internal desire to walk right back out the front door. She was supposed to meet Jeff at the bar for drinks and starters and hopefully riveting conversation (Lily wasn’t holding her breath). The semi-circle bartop stretched along a large expanse of the room, barely inhabited at this time of a Friday evening, and Lily couldn’t help herself from admiring the rather nice-looking man tending the bar at the far end.

Eventually, she rounded the bar in search of Jeff, who had been described to her as: tall and handsome. (She didn’t mind a cliché now and again.) Scholarly, and a sharp dresser, if not a bit disheveled. (Whatever that meant.) Dark hair and framed glasses. (She did not mind a nice set of specs to be sure.)

Then she spotted him, sitting across from a stretch of beer taps, shoulders bowed slightly as he studied his phone. As Lily drew closer she watched him press his glasses back up his nose. Even from the admittedly shrinking distance, she could tell he would give the bartender a run for his money. For a moment, a brief, unrelenting irrational moment, excitement flooded her system; it burned in her veins, sent bubbles straight to the logical part of her brain, then—

“Hi, you must be J—” A set of hazel eyes locked with hers and her jaw dipped lower, all the buzz of excitement leaving her. “You’re not…” Jeff.

Oh no.

Oh—but, wait had it been Jeff? Maybe she had heard the wrong name—

“Oh Christ, you are the Lily that Auntie Mabel… I had no idea, Evans, I assure you.”

Of that she was fairly certain he was telling the truth. He was many things, but a liar was not among them. Besides, only an evil force in the universe could explain why out of the billions of people on this planet, Lily had been set up on a blind date with her ex-boyfriend, James Potter.

[gallonofgoldfish]

Whiskey and Winning

It's easy to get distracted at the rodeo. At least, it should be, under the lights and in the crowded stands, but you've only got one thing on your mind. Champion bronco rider Abby Anderson could say the same.

Pairing: cowpoke!abby x reader (sort of)

Content: established relationship, fluff, poor attempts at depicting the rodeo, reader is barely described, i swear im not slut shaming i just think the term buckle bunny is funny, i don't think any warnings apply

A/N: wrote this last night in a haze. i hardly know anything about tlou and rodeos actually make me really sad but yk. the parasites. might make another part to this at some point. didn't tell my friends i was posting this so if you guys see this hello i love you thank you for hyping me up <3. also friendly reminder fuck neil druckmann and do not give that zionist your money!!!

WC: 1080

The blare of the announcer’s voice from the overhead speakers is deafening, but you haven’t heard a word he’s said. The lights are blinding, but you won’t squint against their glare. The stadium is packed full—roaring with the drunken cheers of thousands of strangers, glittering with the flash of every camera and belt buckle and rhinestone-studded hat suffocating in the stands—but it may as well be empty save for the two of you.

The world is quiet. Eerily so, though maybe the ringing in your ears is playing a part in that. It’s narrow. It’s tinged by the black splotches at the edge of your vision and strained by the clench of your jaw.

The world is the cowpoke settling onto the bare back of the bronc in the chute only a few feet away from you. It’s the wide-brimmed ten-gallon pressed firmly down over the dirty blonde braid hanging between her shoulders. The collared white shirt stretching over her back, quilted with Marlboro patches and brand logos. The crimson bandana you’d had in your hair an hour earlier, resting around her neck.

The world is Abby Anderson, from the freckles strewn over her scarred, sunburned face to the cold focus in her steely blue eyes that evaporates when her gaze settles on you. Ice turns to the warmth of Jack Daniel’s, neat in its absence. To the gray of campfire smoke winding into the white-speckled sky, burning away the chill in the air. Warding off the spectators and the clamor and the awful, twisting feeling of waiting.

This is what it’s about, right?

The rush. The thrill.

The hitch in the air as her hand tightens on the rigging one last time. 

A grin splits her features.

She winks.

And then she’s gone. The gate swings open and the bucking mare takes off with her on its back and the world bursts back into a mess of color and noise. Eight seconds.

You’re yelling—you’re not sure what you’re yelling, but it’s loud enough to leave your throat raw and earn some sideways looks from the flock of buckle bunnies pressed up against the railing alongside you. 

Seven.

Part of Pour Some Sugar on Me blasts from the staticky speakers, and Abby appears on the jumbotrons in perfect detail. 

Six.

The bay mare thrashes into the air, but Abby’s faster, stronger, the muscles in her arms pushing against the seams of her shirt as she holds her free hand held up in the air. 

Five.

The snarling wolves engraved on her belt buckle flash under the lights. 

Four.

Every kick whips the fringe along the edges of her shotgun chaps, but the timer ticks down anyway. 

Three.

She holds on, anyway.

A closer shot brings her face into focus: grit teeth, a furrowed brow, a muscle ticking along the edge of her jaw. 

Two.

Sweat runs down the side of her features and into the scar on her cheek beneath the shadow of her hat’s brim. 

She’s in the middle of the arena now, gritty sand flying up around her. 

One?

If you could tear your eyes off of her, you’d check the time to make sure you’re counting right.

The music stops. An airhorn sounds. She’s still the rider—some distant, mythical thing up on a screen and down in the dirt.

Abby’s mouth opens in a shout when the second set of floodlights kick in, raising her head only to lock eyes with the pair of wranglers who burst out of the chutes after her to rope the bronc back in. She rocks forward with the mare’s motion one more time before swinging herself off its back and bailing into the sand. 

You finally get a breath out, resting your head against your forearm on the railing and heaving a sigh.

The announcer’s words retreat to the back of your thoughts again, but not before you catch her score. 95.

Ninety–fucking–five. The day’s record.

Just as the stadium begins to die down, the strangers beside you erupt into another round of cheers. Abby’s on her feet again, dusting herself off and sweeping her hat off of her head to shake out the loose strands of hair framing her face. And she’s walking. Jogging. Full-on running, back towards the chutes.

Or maybe not. 

She vaults the rickety fencing at the edge of the ring like she’s been practicing and hauls herself up into the stands. You can’t bite back your smile at the sight of her, shoulders heaving, beaming, alive. The crooks of her boots expertly find the backs of the plastic stadium seats between spectators’ shoulders. As she makes her way over, the strangers along the railing surge towards her, arms outstretched over the section’s edge. 

Abby doesn’t even see them; her stare never leaves yours except to glance at the railing before stepping up on the platform and hooking an arm through the top metal rung. 

She’s real again then—the world in flannel and denim and muddy boots, inches away.

Abby. Your Abby.

You’re breathing it in. Smoke from the night before. Pine and sweat.

Then, you’re tasting it. Whiskey and winning.

Her hat settles atop your head. Calloused, resin-stuck fingers thread through your hair at the back of your neck and reel you in. Your lips are on hers—or maybe it’s the other way around—and you laugh against each other.

Heat creeps into your cheeks long before you pull away.

“You shouldn’t be up here,” you scold, but your smile chases off any thread of sternness your voice might’ve held.

“Agree to disagree.” She wipes her forehead on her sleeve and huffs, one brow arched. The rosy blush in her features lingers even when the sweat is gone. 

The screens over her shoulder change to show two familiar shapes. 

“We’re on the jumbotron,” you say. 

Abby doesn’t bother looking back. Just laughs “Good,” then kisses you again. This one is quicker, lighter, but your stomach flutters all the same.

“Go.” You squeeze her arm. “I’m sure you’re gettin’ somethin’ good for a ride like that.”

She scoffs. “I do this for no damn awards,” she drawls.

“Can’t all be adrenaline,” you murmur, tugging at her bandana.

That sly, smoky look creeps across her features again as the hat lifts from your head and sinks back down onto hers.. The corner of her mouth tugs upward. Her eyes dart over your face. Stepping down, she leaves you two more words and a pounding in your chest:

“It ain’t.”

[pressgforgoodgirl]

Arthur's Mare (Part 2)

Summary: After the passing of Arthur’s beloved equine companion, a conversation at the saloon leads to a discovery you couldn't ignore.

Pairing: Arthur x reader fluff

Word count: 2,424

Warnings/tags: animal loss, grief, mentions of slavery, man hitting on you (no cat calling or anything though), fluff, romance, arthur's crippling self esteem issues

Read part 1 here

Weeks had gone by since the passing of Arthur’s animal companion. The first few days had been rough, but Arthur was returning to his regular self bit by bit. He had even gone a few mornings without the thought of her instantly flooding his mind. He had continued to hitch rides on your horse when needed, leading the two of you to spend quite a lot of time together. You explored, collected debts, and hunted game together.

One night, the two of you decided to hit the town. As you entered the bar, your eyes scanned the room, looking for a fellow you could seduce into lowering his guard until you could rob him blind. Arthur made his way to the poker tables on the other side of the large saloon.

You identified your target and sauntered over. You took a seat next to him and he was quick to make conversation, being sure to laugh at all of his stupid remarks, even allowing your hand to lightly rest above his knee. All the while, you snuck glances at Arthur, admiring how handsome and strong he looked. How commanding his presence was at the poker table.

Your attention snapped back to your conversation with the gentlemen at the mention of horses, however.

“Yep, bought this beautiful standardbred from a gentleman a few years back. Beautiful coat, hard-working, obedient as ever. The owner had bought her mother from this odd old recluse feller that lived off from the edge of town decades prior. Said to be an ex-slaver. Mother was a fantastic horse, from what I hear. The mother had a sister, though I hear the ex-slaver feller kept that one. Gentleman who bought the mother eventually decided to breed her and raised the colt to maturity. I happened upon his ranch on a business trip. Saw the young horse and knew I had to have her. Gentleman agreed to sell her to me for a fair price and she's been mine ever since.”

Standardbred? That's the type of horse Arthur had. The mother owned by an ex-slaver? The recluse had kept the sister for himself… Could that have been Arthur’s horse? That would make this man's horse the niece of his late mare. You had to see her.

“Whereabouts did this ex-slaver live?” you asked.

“Not sure exactly, but I think he lived somewhere up north of Valentine” he replied.

North of Valentine? That's where Arthur had found his horse. This horse would be perfect for him. Sure, he would always be reminded of the old mare, but knowing him, he would feel it right to let her memory live on through her niece.

You knew if you asked to see the horse, the gentleman would likely take it as an invitation to take you to bed. When you refused, you’d have an awful hard time buying the horse, and you didn't want to steal her. It wasn't that you were beyond crime. Hell, you had murdered on your adventures with Arthur. It just didn't feel right in this scenario. You wanted to buy something for Arthur with cash, even if it was stolen cash in the end. You also couldn't ask Arthur to buy it, though, as you wanted this to be a surprise.

Instead you said, “I think I know a gentleman who would be interested in buying if you were open to selling her.” You figured you could convince John to meet him and prevent any misunderstandings between you and the gentleman. You would pretend John was your brother so there wouldn't be any questions as to why you had flirted with him at the bar.

“I'm not so sure, she really is an amazing beast” the gentleman replied. He paused for a second, looking you over, “but hell, for a thing like you, why not. Come by tomorrow. I'll sell ‘er to ya for $100.”

He described where his homestead was located and you parted ways. You were sure to catch Arthur’s eyes to signal your departure. You waited outside as he finished his poker game and joined you.

As both mounted your horse and began to ride away from the town, back to camp. Once the saloon disappeared into the background, he pulled cash out of his satchel. “$520. And what did you manage fine lady?” Arthur boasted.

Shit. You hadn't managed anything but the horse lead, which you didn't want to tell him about just yet. What would you say?

Despite your brief panic, you quickly recovered and claimed, “Not much luck tonight. Guy wanted to get handsy with me. When I declined I decided to get out of there as soon as I could. Didn't manage to pick him.”

“Really? That feller was fixin’ for a cracked jaw gettin’ handsy with you. He’s lucky I didn't notice.” Arthur replied. His hands began to draw comforting circles on your hips, trying to soothe any anxiety or uneasiness you might have felt after your alleged encounter. Your heart warmed at his words and his touch. You loved how protective Arthur was over you. You hated to lie to Arthur, but you knew you would make up for it handsomely tomorrow.

The next day, you found John and pulled him aside, somewhere you could talk out of earshot. You told him about your night at the saloon and what you hoped to do.

“That's a fine plan, y/n. I’d be happy to help. You must really take a liking to Arthur to spend that much money on him” John replied with a lopsided smile.

“Guess so” you replied, a blush creeping up your cheeks, a smile involuntarily spreading across your face.

“Alright then, let's head out before Arthur comes ‘round asking questions” he said.

The two of you began to mount your horses just as Arthur came walking through camp.

“Y/n!” Arthur called out. “Where you headed off to? Think I could join ya?”

“Don't worry, John and I will be right back. I think we’ll handle this one ourselves” you shouted back, trying not to let on that you were nervous he would discover your secret.

Your heart ached when you saw Arthur’s face drop ever so slightly, blue eyes betraying the tinge of sadness he tried to conceal at your denial. You wanted so badly to jump off of your horse, kiss his disappointment away, and tell him to join you. But you again reminded yourself of what a special surprise you had in store for him.

“Alright” he replied, using a hand to wave you off, shoulders slouching and his gaze dropping to the ground. He turned around and began to walk toward his tent. Again, you felt your heart throb painfully inside your chest at his disappointment. You took a deep breath, gained your composure, and turned to John.

“Ready?” you asked with a smile.

“Didn't mount my horse to stay here, now did I?” John replied, teasing.

“Oh shut up,” you replied with a chuckle.

And so you were off. You rode for a while, making light conversation along your journey. Finally, the homestead the gentleman from the saloon had described came into view. Your eyes scanned the fenced pasture until they settled on a beautiful, strong thoroughbred baring a strong resemblance to Arthur’s mare.

John followed your gaze. “By god, that sure does look like her. I bet that's it.”

You found a hitching post to tie your horses to and identified a hammering sound coming from the barn. You figured it was likely the man from the saloon, so you made your way over. After announcing your presence, the man came out to greet you with a smile and you introduced John as your brother.

He led you over to the very horse you had spotted. She looked over at you curiously. He pulled a piece of hay from a bale nearby and gave a bit to each of you. You held out your hands in offering and the horse sauntered over, nickering softly as she gladly ate the hay. She allowed you to softly stroke her forehead and muzzle. As you cooed to her softly, John and the man exchanged the money you had passed to him on the way over.

“I've got a saddle that fits her and I just right that I could throw in if you'd come visit me again” the man offered.

“We could see about that” you offered flirtatiously, hoping he was naive enough to give it to you now rather than make you follow through on your promise to receive it. And naive enough he was. As he grabbed the saddle from the barn, you found your way into the pasture and attached a halter and lead to the mare. She was hesitant at first and you were sure to work slowly and gently. You spewed soft reassurances and praises as you led her out of the pasture to where the man was waiting with the saddle.

After helping you attach it, he rather delightedly shared how he hoped to see you back again, offering next week. You promised to return, hoping he wouldn't seek vengeance when you didn't make good on it. But hell, instead of robbing him that night in the bar you had actually given him money today, so really, he should count his blessings.

Making your way back to the horses, you and John climbed into your saddles as you continued to gently lead Arthur’s soon-to-be animal companion alongside your own. You were careful not to drive your horse too fast, but the mare seemed eager to have you pull her along, occasionally even chomping at her halter for lack of a bit.

Just before you reached camp, you asked John to go ahead of you and invite Arthur to meet you out here where the two of you could have some privacy away from the gang as you introduced Arthur to his new horse. As John rode off into camp, you suddenly felt a twinge of anxiety course through you. You hoped that Arthur would enjoy the new horse and not become angry with you for having selected one for him. Or worse be angry that you caused him to think upon his late mare. But again, you reassured yourself, knowing this is a chance Arthur would not have wanted you to pass up.

Eventually, you saw Arthur approaching on foot bearing a look of slight confusion. Arthur wondered what kind of trick John might be playing and what part you played in it. But then you saw Arthur stop in his tracks when he saw the horse standing beside yours. You beamed a large, excited grin toward him as he stood, entranced by the sight, and waved him over. He picked up his feet and continued to walk toward you, that same look of confusion returning to his face.

When he reached you and the horses, he was initially lost for words, eventually stammering, “This horse looks just like her, but I know it can't be, can it? Have I finally lost my mind?”

“No,” you chuckled, “you haven't lost your mind, not just yet anyway. But it does look like her, doesn't it?”

Arthur let out a breathless, “Yeah,” and began stroking her mane and shoulders, even nuzzling his face against hers. She gave Arthur a friendly nicker in response.

“How did you find this horse? I've never seen a horse that looked so much like her.” Arthur questioned.

“Remember the man I met at the saloon last night that I claimed I couldn't rob because he had gotten too handsy?”

“Yeah?” Arthur replied.

“Well… that may not have been the full truth. I hated to lie to you, I really did, but him being handsy wasnt the reason I couldn't rob him.”

“Go on,” Arthur urged. He was glad to hear that the man hadn't tried to come onto you physically, but felt nervous, unsure of what you might say next.

“You see he began telling me about this Standardbred he owned. Said he had bought the horse from a man a few years back. It was said to be the offspring of a magnificent horse that the owner had originally bought from a recluse ex-slaver living somewhere in the woods north of Valentine. The man said he thought the ex-slaver owned another Standardbred, too, a sister, though he never sold it. I started putting the pieces together and figured his horse was the niece of your mare.”

Arthur couldn't think of what to say at first, awestruck to be holding a relative of his ol’ girl.

“So what, you stole ‘er? Brought John with you as an extra gun?” Arthur asked, still trying to put the pieces together, shaking his head a bit in confusion.

“Good to know you think so highly of my morals, Arthur” you teased with a smile. “No, I bought her. With my own money. Which does happen to have been stolen” you chuckled, looking at him sweetly.

“You what?” Arthur said, face screwing up, almost in anger. His fingers made their way up to his forehead, punching the skin above his eyes in frustration. You knew he wouldn't like that you had spent money on him, but you hoped that he would still keep the horse.

“I bought her, Arthur. For you. I wanted you to have her and for you to know how much I care about you.”

“For this ugly bastard?” Arthur muttered. Nobody had ever shown him as much thought and care as you had. He found himself at a loss, unsure how to react to this new experience.

You felt your heart shatter bit by bit as you saw his self-doubt seeping through the cracked shell of a man he tried to wear.

You came down from your horse to face him, grabbing his hands in yours and leaning your forehead against his. “For the most beautiful, worthy man this great world has ever seen. For the man I love so much it hurts” you said, softly stroking the sides of his face.

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed, trying to convince himself that your words were true. While he still couldn't quite bring himself to believe you, he murmured a thank you and planted a soft kiss against your lips. You savored each other’s touch a moment.

Eventually Arthur turned back toward his new horse. “Hey pretty girl. Let's get you cleaned up and go for a ride, huh? Maybe y/n will join us.”

You weren't sure you had ever felt happier and Arthur was sure he had never felt more loved.

[untitledgoosegay]

pegasus and the gender thing

It's commonly believed that pegasus only accept female riders. This is a misconception, but a sticky one:

Pegasus are quicker and more agile in the air than wyverns, but they're also lighter and more delicate. Flying with a heavy or uneven load is exhausting, even dangerous. A strain injury that impairs flight can kill a pegasus.

Consequently, they're very picky about riders, and will reject -- violently, if necessary -- anyone who doesn't meet their standards.

Bottom line, pegasus really care about 1) flight dynamics and 2) confidence.

A pegasus knight should be as light as possible, with a low center of gravity. This selects for short, wide-hipped jockeys; statistically, that describes more women than men.

(Pegasus will also reject taller, heavier, and top-heavy women; this is considered just "not being cut out for it." You'd think somebody would have made the connection, but these things are stubborn.)

Really, most of it's cultural. A quirk of statistics has become a whole self-fulfilling thing.

Pegasus mares are larger than tiercels, and make better mounts. This is offputting to a certain kind of guy, and lends itself to the idea that of course a mare would prefer a woman rider.

"Pegasus attack men" is now a common belief. Men get nervous and uncomfortable around pegasus, which sometimes translates to belligerence. Pegasus react poorly to both, which only reinforces the idea that pegasus hate men.

It's not uncommon that the above produces pegasus which actually do have a grudge against men (by whatever standards a pegasus can tell -- some combination of affect, physical cues, and social cues).

Many men who could physically qualify as pegasus riders aren't interested, because the profession is so associated with women. Even if they were, many pegasus stables refuse to train men, because "men can't ride pegasus" is such a pervasive belief.

A "man" who's committed and dedicated enough to enter a profession generally restricted to women, with women as colleagues, teachers, and peers ... is probably a woman, actually. She's sure as hell not cis.

[icaffs]

PJO HEADCANON

Run.

Don't look back.

Run.

It wasn't your fault.

Nico screams inside as he sprints at full force away from the incoming wave of shadows. His legs are shaking like a broken vending machine but he can't stop now it's too late he can't go back. Can he?

Black spots dance around Nico's vision the pressure is building it feels like an elephant just sat on his chest the shadows wrap themselves around him refusing to let go but he has to keep running. Doesn't he?

Nyx's palace of darkness shrinks in the background and the shadows start to ease off feeling like a massive weight has been lifted off his chest. The horrors that Leigh in Nyx's castle can never be described. The fear and pain she can inflict with a snap of her fingers. The thought of how powerful one God could be is enough to make a mortal mind shatter into a million pieces one hundred times over.

Nico sits by himself only able to dwell on the events that just took place. Will's lifeless body drenched in blood and cloaked in a veil of darkness with Nyx's silhouette behind him. Will can't be dead. Beautiful, amazing, morning person Will. Nico knows better than anyone how permanent death is that the only way to describe it. Permanent. It's like loosing a hairband, you know you'll never find it again.

"Come out come out wherever you are," The voice sends shivers down Nico's spine this can't be it I can't die I don't want to die, Nico thinks terrified to his core.

" It will only end faster, Don't prolong your suffering," Well that's reassuring.

Nico's hand trembles. The only thing Nico was ever truly afraid of was Nyx. Not the fact that she was arguably the most powerful goddess but that she could take everything away and all you could do is watch your loved ones suffer in the most excruciating way possible.

A dark figure narrowed around the corner of Nico's hiding spot and a hand reached for his thro-

It was only a night mare she can't hurt you you're safe she can't hurt you anymore, Nico tells himself this over and over again rocking back and forth knees tucked into his chest sat blot upright in the Hades cabin. Nico must have woken the whole camp with the blood curdling scream that escaped his throat.

There a bang at the door.

" Nico open up, let me in," Shit it's Will he must have heard, well you would have to be pretty deaf not to have heard his scream.

Nico gets up out of bed and opens the creaky old Hades cabin door to see the faint glow of Will in the dark night.

"I heard you scream do you want me to come in," Will doesn't wait for Nico to reply but comes in and sits on Nico's bed with enough popcorn to feed the whole of camp for weeks. Will pulls out his DvD collection and pats the bed next to him looking at Nico pleadingly.

Nico plonks down next to him," You have a habit of making yourself at home, you know that."

" Yeah, now which movie do you wanna watch, I brought the whole star wars series, obviously, footloose and the breakfast club."

Honestly, Nico didn't mind what movie, he was just glad to have Will next to him knowing that he was safe was all he needed.

" Let's watch footloose."

[blacksheep28]

Phoenix Song 24

Luo Binghe peered nervously over his Shizun's shoulder. He understood that Shen Yuan was taking the chance to see all these incredible things he'd only read about, but he did think that maybe Shizun could stand to be a few feet further away from the elephant aurora butterflies.

Shen Yuan glanced back at Binghe, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Aren't they incredible? Man, it is so unfair that they weren't given more attention when they were described." For what seems like the hundredth time he cursed Airplane for not focusing on the world he was building in exchange for sex plots. Binghe had never fought these beasts so he figured they would remain docile. What is a butterfly going to do?

Binghe couldn't help smiling back at him. "They are impressive Shizun." The trails of light they left behind as they moved was incredible. It was the only way to figure out where the mostly transparent creatures were as well.

"All these beasts are left so underappreciated." He huffed, his attention turning back to the elegant creatures. It's easy to gripe to Binghe about his misgivings with his universe. He finally has someone who will listen to his rants about the worldbuilding of Proud Immortal Demon Way. He avoids plot points and complaints about Binghe's future wives, but he'll happily rant to his heart's content about underutilized beasts Binghe encountered.

Binghe tilted his head. He didn't really understand what his shizun meant. "This one would appreciate them," he offered a bit awkwardly. He wasn't sure what Shen Yuan would consider proper appreciation for elephant aurora butterflies. He was just glad none of them had knocked them over.

Shen Yuan sighed and waved a dismissive hand. "That wasn't a complaint directed at you," he explained. The protagonist isn't at fault for his writer's incompetence. "Would Binghe like to choose our next destination?" He finally stepped out of reach of the butterflies, leaving them be. "I've been dragging you around for the past few weeks, Binghe should have an input."

Binghe beamed at the offer. He would love to pick a beautiful place to bring Shizun to! He wanted to awe him with wonders. Out here it was so clear that Shen Yuan loved the world. Over and over again Binghe got to watch him delight in the things they discovered. There was just one problem with the offer. "This one doesn't know of wonders like Shizun does." How could he suggest somewhere to visit when he didn't know anywhere?

“I do have some in mind. Binghe is welcome to choose between them.” He offered. “There is a volcano in the southern borderlands home to a herd of flame-maned dire horses.” Binghe had tamed one of the mares and gifted her to wife #367. “There’s a lake a several day’s trip from us known for its giant lily pads.” Binghe’s 87th wife had been a water spirit and he’d slept with her on one of said lily pads. “And there’s a mountain range I’ve been wanting to investigate that has a cavern of crystals deep inside of it.” Binghe had fallen into the cave in a rare moment of weakness and was found and ‘cared for’ by a passing caravan of women.

Binghe listened eagerly to the descriptions. As Shen Yuan spoke of the lake with giant lily pads a hunger swelled up inside him. He was still a handful of months away from his seventeenth birthday, but he couldn't resist the thought of swimming in the water with his shizun. The way Shen Yuan would look in the water, his cheer transformed with water running down his body. "I want to visit the lake," Binghe declared.

“The lake it is.” He agreed. He cast one final look at the butterflies before leading Binghe away from them. “I believe there are quite a few water spirits that make that place they’re home, so we’ll have to be courteous of them.” He would rather not have his vacation interrupted by an angry spirit trying to kill them.

"Will Shizun tell me about them?" Binghe asked eagerly. He bounced along with Shen Yuan happy to be continuing onward with their travels. "How do we greet them? What do they like?"

Well, the one Binghe seduced liked him and not much else. Airplane didn’t exactly give the spirits as a whole much development. “I’m not sure, they prefer to keep to themselves. I haven’t visited this place before. We should be accepted as long as we remain polite.”

"Will they let us?"

“I do hope so. We’ll ask for their permission before climbing into the water.” There’s always a risk that comes with traveling to any of the wide plot locations. Binghe is often granted an exception to any rules against outsiders.

Binghe nodded. "Yes shizun." He would have to make sure to practice his sword skills before they arrived so he could protect them both if it proved necessary. Shen Yuan was stronger than him, but he was poisoned. Binghe didn't want to risk losing him.

After several days of traveling the pair finally arrived at their destination. Shen Yuan halted at the edge of a beach covered in pearl white sand. A white expanse of water lay before them, dotted with lily pads wide enough to build a house on. Cranes strode gracefully through the water and silvery fish darted just below the surface. So far there were no signs of the water spirits, but they usually lurked in the depths.

Binghe stared at awe at the lake before them. It looked so serene. The lily pads were truly gigantic as well, enough that he could easily imagine people living on top of them. He checked that his sword was secured properly and trotted forward to the edge of the water. He poked at it gently. "It's amazing."

A girl’s face appeared below the water after he poked the surface. She shimmered the same silver as the fish and broke into a giggle, small bubbles floating to the surface. A moment later several more faces appeared beside her. Shen Yuan followed close behind Binghe, blinking as he spotted the faces below the surface. “That was fast. Seems you’ve drawn their attention.” As expected of the protagonist.

Binghe peered at the collection of water spirits that were shimmering just below the surface of the lake. They looked pretty with their soft silver colors and wide black eyes. He smiled and gave a polite bow in greeting.

Shen Yuan mimicked his bow and stepped closer. “Greetings spirits. This one does not mean to intrude on your lake and has come bearing no ill will. He would like to swim in your waters for a short time if you would allow.” He called to them respectfully. The first girl to appear flicked a finger and the surface of the water mimicked the movement, playfully splashing Binghe in the face. She giggled and nodded her approval before vanishing below the surface once more.

"We can swim then?" Binghe asked hopefully.

Shen Yuan nodded and stepped back. “They’ve approved of us.” He agreed. He stepped off the sand and began pulling off his robes, stripping down to his inner robes and taking off his boots.

Binghe flushed as Shen Yuan started stripping right there. It was what he'd wanted, but it still felt so shocking! He followed his Shizun's lead as he always did stripping down to his inner robes before jumping into the water.

Shen Yuan slowly waded into the water, letting his skin adjust to the faint chill. He walked until the water reached his shoulders and then finally dunked his head under. Once he surfaced he was thoroughly soaked, his wet hair clinging messily to his chest. He’d never had the chance to swim in a natural body of water. The original had a probate bath so why would he bother? It’s sort of nice to be able to feed the soft sand underfoot.

Binghe was really glad that he had gotten in the water first. It covered up his reaction. His eyes trailed the water dripping down Shen Yuan's throat. He wanted to lick him all over. Shen Yuan was prettier than all the water spirits here, far better suited for this place.

Shen Yuan gathered his wet hair and pulled it over his shoulder to keep it out of the way. He glanced back at Binghe before gesturing to one of the lily pad. “I’m going to sit in the sun. You’re welcome to keep swimming.” He swam a little clumsily out to the lily pad and climbed atop it, thanking this body’s natural strength that he can do so somewhat gracefully. If he was in his original body he’d be forced to awkwardly squirm onto the giant leaf.

Binghe couldn't keep watching. Not when his shizun was serving himself out on a platter like this. Was he aware that Binghe could see his nipples, two perfect red berries? He dove under the water trying to cool down. Jealously he watched to make sure none of the water spirits were taking advantage of his shizun.

The water spirits flitted around below, staying away from the surface while eying them warily. Upon seeing Binghe dip below, the girl from before swam up to him and lightly touched his temple. Her body was slightly transparent, solidifying into her silvery skin only to dissolve into foam with a simple shift in the water. Her finger faintly glowed as she touched him and then darted away. All of a sudden faint chatter echoed through the water around him. More spirits came into view before disappearing. It was as if the water itself was whispering about him. Faint words could be heard such as ‘human’, ‘guests?’, and ‘danger?’.

Binghe stared at them in awe. His mind quickly flipped over. This was perfect, Shen Yuan loved discovering new things. He could learn something new here from them! He smiled at the girl that had touched him. 'Hello', he mouthed trying to speak below the waves.

The girl giggled and a series of clicks came from her mouth. “I have connected our minds human. You need only think my way.” A soft, musical voice rang aloud in his head. “It’s so rare we receive visitors. Apologies, this one couldn’t help her curiosity.”

"No, I'm glad to speak with you." Binghe smiled. "I've never seen any water spirits before. Perhaps we can help each other."

“I would be happy to assist. Is it concerning that immortal master? I can sense your interest in him.” She chirped mischievously.

"He doesn't know," Binghe told her sadly. "He sees me as a child still."

“You are young.” She stilled and dissolved into foam before reforming. “Hm. I’m afraid I am quite limited in that matter. I could connect your minds, but that wouldn’t change his thoughts about you.”

"That's alright," he said. "I have plans to court him when I'm a little older. I will prove myself an adult to him. But I can still do things for him before then!"

“Oh?” Her eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Do you have something mind of what you want to do with him?”

"Today I want to be able to tell him about water spirits." He smiled at her. "My shizun loves learning things, but he doesn't know anything about you."

“That’s it?” She giggled once more and nodded. “I can speak with him, though I’m unsure what he could wish to learn.”

"No!" Jealousy flared inside him. "Tell me, and then I'll tell him."

She hesitated at his tone, her body dissolving for a moment before reforming. “What does he wish to know then?”

Binghe relaxed at her easy acceptance. "How do visitors greet you? What do you like as gifts? How do you live below? Do you travel to visit other water spirits?"

“We rarely receive visitors, but their arrivals are typically ruder than yours. We are quiet about our presence, I fear few know of us. Humans do not mind helping themselves to our waters regardless of our presence. We do not typically leave our home, though some do. We bring nutrients for the plants above and in turn they fill these waters with qi to keep us alive.” Her eyes turned to the massive stalks stretching into the water. “Those who are lucky may cultivate off the lilies enough to speak as I do. Many do not obtain sentience and remain one with the water.”

Binghe hummed thoughtfully. "Is there a way you would like to receive visitors?" Maybe he could repay them for their help in this way, creating a way for them to have more peace. Even if they weren't human, they weren't as monstrous as Binghe and the original Shen Qingqiu.

“We prefer to be left alone, but if we were to receive visitors we would just ask they be polite as you have been. We do not dare ask for much other than the preservation of our home.” She dipped her head to him.

Binghe dipped his head back politely in return. "Your home is truly beautiful."

“This one thanks you.” Her lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Shall I knock the immortal master into the water as thanks? I’m sure he would be delighted to be saved by you.” She teased.

Binghe flushed but nodded his head. A chance to save Shizun! A safe one where he wouldn't have to worry too much too.

The spirit dissolved into the water once more, her giggle echoing throughout the water. All of a sudden, the lily pad Shen Yuan was resting on was shaken by a wave, his body unexpectedly plunging into the water as the leaf gave way. Shen Yuan flailed for a moment, suddenly shaken out of his doze by the plunge. He quickly reoriented himself and began to swim back to the surface.

Binghe dove through the water swiftly and heroically pulled Shen Yuan into his arms to keep him safe. He surfaced up near another large lily pad and lovingly lowered his rescued shizun onto it. Shizun was fully capable of swimming of course, but this was better! An excuse to hold him close and tight! "Are you alright Shizun?"

Shen Yuan clung to Binghe, coughing heavily as he tried to expel water from his lungs. He laid down on the lily pad and wiped his hair out of his face. “Was that one of the spirits?” He questioned, voice hoarse from the coughing. “Do you think I upset them somehow?” He was lounging in the sun and minding his own business. He didn’t want to anger the spirits at all.

"Ah, no, shizun!" Binghe hurried to cover that up. He couldn't let his sweet shizun take the blame for what he decided! "I was playing with one, I suppose we got too boisterous."

Ah. That must have been his future wife. “I apologize then. I suppose I interrupted Binghe’s fun.” He sat up, his robes barely hanging onto his body after being thrown around so much. “You can go back to her. I appreciate the worry, but I’ll be fine.”

Binghe looked over his shizun with hunger. He was so close, practically naked. The way the cloth stuck to him made what was hidden all the more tantalizing. He carefully moved up onto the lily pad beside him. "This one would prefer to rest here with you for a while."

Shen Yuan hesitantly nodded. “If that’s what Binghe wants.” He straightened his robes and laid down in the sun once more. His feet dangling off the edge of the lily pad and he leisurely kicked them in the water.

Binghe settled as close to Shen Yuan as he could manage. He was allowed closer now, but his shizun would still get uncomfortable at too much contact. He couldn't wait until he could persuade him that it was right for them to touch!

It only took a few minutes for most of his skin to dry. The robes and his hair would take longer. He sat up with a small grimace and took ahold of his unwieldy hair, squeezing the water out of it. He missed having swim trunks and short hair as the acceptable norm. If he cut off his hair and stripped to just shorts everyone around him would be scandalized.

Binghe ached to touch. He swallowed carefully. "Would Shen Yuan allow this one to help with your hair?" He had found his shizun was more willing to allow such intimacies when he called him by name, a delightful discovery.

Shen Yuan hesitated, but he couldn’t resist when Binghe called his name like that. “…Binghe may assist.” He agreed, allowing his hair to fall back down in a wet curtain.

Binghe reached out and carefully began to comb through the wet hair with his fingers. He was gentle of course! He would never want to pain his shizun by being too rough. "This one has learned some things about the water spirits."

“Oh?” He glanced back, his interest peaked. He seemed to remember himself after a moment and stilled again, letting Binghe work.

Binghe smiled delighted to have his Shizun's attention on him so firmly. He quickly began to explain to him what he had been told about the relationship between the water spirits and the plants, how they cared for them and in turn provided Qi for the spirits.

Shen Yuan listened, enraptured. However this world was created, it didn’t skimp on details like Airplane did. Who knew the one off location had such interesting lore about a symbiotic relationship between the lily pads and the spirits living underneath.

Binghe came to an end of the small amount he had learned from the water spirit. He had finished with Shen Yuan's hair and was just resting on his side now. There was so much of his pale flesh visible. He wanted to lick it.

Shen Yuan reclined once Binghe finished with his hair, watching him closely as he spoke. “Binghe managed to get all that from his time underwater?” He laughed quietly. “I’m beginning to suspect you were busy interrogating them instead of playing with them.”

Binghe flushed red. "There was some playing!"

“I’m glad Binghe enjoyed himself.” He smiled as Binghe flushed, endeared by his embarrassment.

Binghe smiled at Shen Yuan. "Thanking shizun for bringing me with you." He could have left him behind at so many points, but he had indulged him and let him care for him instead.

“Binghe…I’m not your shizun. I’m just a wandering cultivator now.” He gave him a small smile. “I’ve enjoyed your presence. I’m glad you came.”

"I am still learning plenty from you! I have learned so much traveling beside you and seeing the things we find," Binghe said quickly. "How can I not honor that? You aren't Qing Jing's peak lord, but you are still my shizun, even if I'm not your disciple."

“I suppose that is true.” He acquiesced. That doesn’t stop it from feeling odd. He shouldn’t be Binghe’s shizun anymore. He doesn’t have to teach him, but he still enjoys it.

Binghe beamed and settled back to subtly watching Shen Yuan. He looked so pretty, at peace and mostly undressed on the lily pad. Soon, he promised himself.

Shen Yuan relaxed under the warmth of the sun, content to lounge on top of the lily pad. For a moment he wished for his fan, but quickly dismissed that. It’s back in his pile of clothing. It would be perfect to be fanned and spoiled like this.

Binghe noticed the slight shift of Shen Yuan's hand that would usually accompany him using his fan. He quietly slipped into the water and retrieved one of Shen Yuan's fans. He swam back out and offered it to him. "Here Shizun."

Shen Yuan sat up and sheepishly accepted the fan. “How did you know I wanted this?” He asked before flicking it open and lightly fanning the heat off his skin.

"You reached for where you usually keep your fan," Binghe told him honestly. There was so much about his shizun that he had memorized. The knowledge that this shizun, Shen Yuan, had always been kind to him warmed him so much.

He didn’t realize he was that predictable. “I appreciate it.” He gave Binghe a small smile before reclining once more. Now with cool air balancing with the heat on his skin it felt perfect.

Binghe beamed. "I'm happy to help!" Especially since Shizun looked even better with a slight breeze stirring him from the fan.

Shen Yuan closed his eyes, leisurely fanning himself. “Binghe made a good choice bringing us here.” He murmured.

Binghe ducked his head. "I only chose from places you suggested." He wished he dared to hold one of Shen Yuan's hands, instead of just touching at the shoulders as they currently were. It was still such a wonderful gift, being allowed so close.

“Perhaps we can stop by a library at some point and you can find a place you truly want to visit.” He offered. Binghe did manage to find plenty of nice places when he had a harem- granted most of them by accident.

Binghe smiled. "If Shizun wants to." He would certainly enjoy finding a new place to reveal to Shen Yuan and show off. Especially if he knew about it so he could show off its wonders like Shen Yuan always did when they went somewhere.

“There’s plenty of places I want to go, but I want to find something that interests Binghe.” He confirmed. “It will be fun.”

"I will find an amazing place!" Binghe promised. He hoped he could live up to that. Shen Yuan seemed to have a gift for finding the most amazing places for them to visit, little corners no one else seemed to know about.

“We’ll have to find a library, then. We may have to go to a bigger city for that, so we’ll need disguises.” He hummed thoughtfully. They’re both too recognizable. How is he supposed to dim the protagonist’s aura?

"If anyone tries to harm Shizun I'll protect you," Binghe promised. He didn't think it was fair that Shen Yuan had to fear being hunted down for something he hadn't chosen. He wished that the awful ice spirit had never revealed that Shen Yuan was pretending, then Shen Yuan wouldn't be afraid.

“I would prefer if Binghe doesn’t hurt anyone.” He replied, frowning softly. “We can run, but if we hurt someone they will have a more pressing reason to hunt us down.”

"Shen Yuan deserves better than being hunted," Binghe grumbled.

“I figured I would have to go on the run at one point or another.” He thought he would be running from Binghe not with him, though.

"I'll follow you as long as you let me," Binghe promised.

“Binghe...” he trailed off as he heard the promise. “You shouldn’t follow me forever. You have your own life to live. You should find a wife and build a home for yourself.”

"I don't want a wife," Binghe said firmly. He only wanted his shizun.

Shen Yuan blinked at him. Oh. Oh no. Did breaking the system break the protagonist? Does he have no desire to continue the plot anymore? “You…don’t?”

Binghe shook his head. "I know who I love, and it's not a woman."

Who- Oh. Oh fuck. Did breaking the system turn the protagonist gay?! He stared at Binghe in stunned silence. What guy did he hang out with the most? Could it be Ming Fan? Their relationship had improved slightly but he didn’t realize it improved that much.

Binghe fidgeted uncomfortably. "Is-is that wrong?" He asked quietly. He had little chance with his courtship if his love repulsed his shizun.

“No. No it isn’t-“ He couldn’t have the protagonist thinking he’s homophobic! “I just didn’t realize you were close to any men. You should court the one you have your eyes on instead of following me around.” He quickly amended. “I’m happy to have you here until you’re an adult, but I still think you should find your…husband at some point.”

Binghe took a deep breath. Okay, so Shen Yuan wasn't instantly horrified by his interest. Good, that was good. He already had his demon heritage working against him, but that was still hidden. If he could keep it that way then he should have a chance. "When I am grown," Binghe said softly.

“Of course. Until you leave I’m happy to have you stay with me.” He assured.

Binghe beamed at him. "You really don't mind that I want a husband?"

“Of course not.” It’s an adjustment from the massive harem of women, but not an unwelcome one. There’s plenty of pretty men that were killed off by Luo Binghe before. He’s sure that once the protagonist is grown he’ll be able to take his pick of them. Ming Fan could replace Ning Yingying’s place and maybe Liu Qingge could replace his sister. Ah wait. Luo Binghe would have to fight Shen Xue for him, that might be a problem.

Binghe smiled. "Thank you Shi-Shen Yuan." It was the man he wanted to be with after all, no matter how beloved a teacher he was. It was the man he saw underneath the masks he had fallen so hard for.

Shen Yuan softened as he heard his name. Binghe will still have his chance to be the powerful and charming protagonist after all of this. He’ll move on from Shen Yuan at some point and find himself a husband or maybe a few hundred.

[mysteriousmayden]

Anyone else MAJORLY procrastinating on a vary important project just to make a ponysona because you’ve been watching MLP infection AUs non stop for almost an entire week and it’s slowly dragging you back into the mlp fandom?…………Yeah me too, crazy ain’t it? So this isn’t at all connected to the Undertale Multiverse I’m making I just wanted to create a ponysona for my persona, Mysterious, Mysti for short, cuz she’s a traveling shapeshifter and one of the worlds she regularly visits is the mlp world (gen 4).

Backstory

Scarab’s (Changling name) backstory is relatively simple, she’s a changling born and raised in a separate hive thats outside of Equestria hidden in the dunes of the desert, she was loyal to the hive and followed orders almost without fail until one day she wondered if this is all there is to life, just stealing others love and enslaving other creatures for it? Not to mention creatures were becoming wise, moving farther away from the hive meaning food was becoming scarce and if they don’t find another way soon all the workers and drones will have to leave the hive and the queen. Scarab secretly snuck out of the hive looking for a better source of love or an alternative, something that will last longer and won’t have to travel so far to get it. It took about 3 days just to get to the closest town and there’s hardly a shred of love in this place, unless you count the love of money which isn’t vary appetizing, but something’s better then nothing and I’ll keep her going for a bit longer, but turns out she wouldn’t have to wait much longer because strolling in were these 6 colorful mares, like Saddle Arabians but smaller, and a tiny dragon and they were bursting with love, more then she had ever seen, so she followed them hoping they’ll lead her to there home, it took a while and a lot of will power to not take there love right then and there but it was worth it because Canterlot was full of love enough to save the hive. There was a problem however, how was Scarab supposed to export all of this love? She figured the best way was to get the ponies to the hive rather the hive to the ponies but how? Perhaps by poisoning there water with her venom she could control them by mass and make them go to the hive, no that’ll require more venom she could ever produce in her whole life and it’ll wear off before they even get close enough to the hive. Maybe convincing them to go there by their own will? That could work but how would one do so? Eventually she found out about Trixi’s show and after seeing everyone being so enamored by it she decided to observe and learned all of Trixi’s tricks even a few from other magicians so she could put on her own show advertising and promising that “you too can be as great and powerful as the Great and Powerful Mysterious Mare if you go and spend one night at the Magical Mountain” (the hive)

Cutie Mark

I know changlings don’t have cutie marks but ponies do so here’s there thought process behind mine! I originally wanted to be something are related, cuz I’m an artist, but that’s over done and boring so I went with something more encompassing of me. The mark is a mixture of the deck of cards joker, jester, and just over all cards. I started with the joker/jester motif cuz I’m often described as a “jack of all trades” also adding the idea of the fraze “two faced”, jester cuz I like making people laugh and entertaining the audience as well as the historical side of jesters where they have to keep things calm and light hearted in the court room and often try to being the people’s struggles to the king only to be laughed at, if I’m being honest I tend to escalate situations more than bring them down but I often have to the the truth sayer or the middle man in many situations growing up, and the deck of cards motif? I just like card games, ever since I was a kid I was a monster at card games, no one could beat me at the elements card game in club penguin, I went up against adults in monopoly and was winning almost every single time. I love card games!

Extra Stuff

Scarab has all the abilities of a regular changeling however her variant are more terrestrial and prefer to hunt there pray at night, out of the scorching sun, and will hind under the sand waiting for the pray to come close enough to sting, they’re venom is non toxic just hallucinogenic, and whoever gets stung will become acceptable to influence allowing the changlings to easily lead them back to the hive. Scarab dose know about the Crystal Empire it’s just too far away and she’ll need help if she’s going to employment her plan there she also knows about Ponyville and she choses to stay away from there because that’s where the main 6 are and if they find out about her or her plan, well she saw what happened to the Storm King. And a bit more into the pony design, it’s inspired by the last unicorn and Rain from the movie Spirit.

[calisources]

𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒, 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences have been taking from different media and literature, movies and more regarding the topic of mistresses and favorites, mostly in the setting of royal court but can also be adjusted to other time periods. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit. Some of these include foul language, so beware. Implications of cheating are also in these.

You are my king, Niko, and I need you.

Everything I say is obeyed; everything I want is given to me.

You are such hard work to seduce, Niko.

She wanted to sit ON him, not next to him.

Never underestimate the power of a woman's intuition.

Behind every great king, there is a great queen. And behind them, there is a mistress.

The King is allowed to have as many favorite as he pleases.

A queen is never without her secrets.

A woman's beauty is her greatest weapon, use it wisely.

Rules are meant to be broken, especially by queens.

Queens do not beg for love, they command it.

Have as many bedwarmers as you wish, but I am your wife and you will not humiliate me.

A queen's grace can disarm her enemies.

He will grow tire of you, as he does with the others.

Having an ugly mistress is therefore a fatal mistake.

When a man takes a mistress, he doesn't turn around and divorce his wife.

Finding out that you are not your lover’s only lover hurts.

But a mistress can do interesting thing with food. Shall I describe them?

You will come back to the castle with me.

I-I'm not your responsibility.

You are mine. They gave you to me, remember? And I want to keep you. 

Your Grace---I am a virgin.

I realize that, and it pleases me. You do not doubt that I can be gentle with you?

They say you grow tire after the first night. No mistress last longer than a night with the king.

I know what you are trying to do, but do not think to take the King away from me. Let him play with you.

Done being sore yet, by chance?

From a mistresses’s perspective, taken men are low maintenance. All they want is sex, sex, sex. 

Do not take it harshly. It’s only flesh. And a body wants what it wants.

Kings have mistresses, Queens have secrets and they die with them.

To be the mistress of a married man is to have the better role.

The role of a mistress if make a man’s mood change and send him happy to his wife.

Don't be mad at a hoe for doing what she does best, besides it's not her that owes you that loyalty.

It was not a request. I will take you to bed and make you mine.

My wife has no interest in my bed, butb I assure you, my bed has interest in you.

 Wives are young men's mistresses, companions for middle age, and old men's nurses. 

I don't want her to know the truth about us.

They know about us and they do not care. My wife does not mind to share.

As long as I do my duty, I am allowed to do who I please.

This absurd jealousy.

A mistress should be like a little oasis, refreshing and exciting, away from the mundane realities of life

The bedchamber is where political alliances are sealed, and where empires are born.

A king may rule a nation, but a woman's allure can conquer the king.

Behind every great king, there are the whispers of his mistresses.

The allure of a mistress lies not only in her beauty, but in her ability to manipulate.

A mistress must be both lover and confidante, juggling passion and secrecy.

In the court of kings, a mistress can become more powerful than a queen.

He is one of his favorites, and everyone knows it. You must become his favorite too.

In the arms of a mistress, a king can escape the weight of his crown.

I want more than this. You cannot offer me more than secret meetings and a warm bed. People whisper.

You can be my wife here. 

If I desire to marry someone else, would I be allowed or you would not let me?

I'll take you as my only mistress. I won't have a thought or an affection for anyone else.

I call Mary my English mare, because I ride her so often.

He cannot give you his true heart... for *I* have that in my keeping.

You can't have 3 people in a marriage!

Seduce me. Write letters to me. And poems, I love poems. Ravish me with your words. Seduce me.

You've taken her honor!

I swear to your grace, someone else was there before me.

They say all his liaisons are soon over. He blows hot, he blows cold.

Sometimes I believe you will grow tire of me. But then I find you here in my bed.

If I cannot please the King, will he kill me?

You must not touch me, for Caesar’s I am.

Everyone knew she was his queen and wife in anything but name.

You will have this orgasm if it’s the last thing I do.

What happened to the art of seduction? A woman enjoys being seduced.

I will not be the laughing stock of the realm. A woman who can only be a lover, never a wife.

I found her a very beautiful young woman with a very sweet and yielding disposition, She confessed to great admiration for Your Majesty. Should I, arrange ...?

If you put the Queen aside for this affair, the kingdom will fall apart.

If you seek Your Grace, you know where to find him.

I trust his mistress more than I trust any man on this table.

My husband is extremely jealous. Wants me sent to a nunnery.

I am with child. It is His Majesty's child.

Slow down so I can see how you do it.

Think of this as training. For your future husband’s pleasure. And mine.

should like to be your wife in every way.

I was wondering if you'd like to become my mistress.

You like to board other men's boats.

You know perfectly well what the King desires and what he shall have.

I saw with my own eyes how attentive he is to you.

My only satisfaction is that in frustrating you, I hasten your fall from the King's good graces.

Any man is weak against a maiden’s magic. Alluring and sweet. Like spring.

I make you this promise. When we are married, I will deliver you a son.

I have yet to decide whether to make your bedmate a head shorter.

So you can have your lovers and I have my own, but at the end, we return to one another. 

If you are not careful and a bastard is conceived, you will be ruined.

Everything will change for her. That kiss is her destiny and fortune.

So, what about this girl, this putain, the king's whore? Why doesn't somebody just get rid of her?

Have any of the women you've bedded with lied about their virginity?

Pretty, witty Nell, don’t forget you are mine until I say so.

Do you seriously expect me to be the first Prince of Wales in history not to have a mistress?

I will teach you many things, how to please a man and in turn, you will be my eyes and ears in court.

I thought you wished for us to be over.

How can I when you plague my mind at every turn.

Let me have you, at least once. Many women would consider it an honor.

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 8 : Arkham Creeping with Dan pt.2

[ꀸꍏꈤ꓄ꍟ-ꉓꍟꈤ꓄ꋪꀤꉓ ꉓꃅꍏꉣ꓄ꍟꋪ]

[ꜱᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 29, 12:00 ᴀᴍ, ᴀʀᴋʜᴀᴍ ᴀꜱʏʟᴜᴍ]

Dante lit a cigarette as he slowly heard the hoovesteps of Fright Knight's Mare. "My liege, you have called." Fright Knight hopped off his Mare and Kneeled Behind Dante who was looking over Arkham Asylum from afar.

"Yes yes.... I have indeed. We have been given permission to take a new victim.. isn't that fun frighty?" Dante chuckled as he breathes out a puff of smoke from his cigarette. Fright Knight perked up, seemingly from slight excitement at a new victim from the 'mortal plane'. Dante laughed "Excited you are and so am I. He dare hurt our little Ghost Prince, and thus he must pay the price of Torture and The Endless Torture Of The Nightmare Realms." He turns around to glance at Fright Knight, Fright kept his head down but even the Mare is Excited and hyped up by this.

"We can't take any more, any less. Just one. Soul by the name of Jonathan Crane. Let's Depart." Dante floated and went invisible as he closes in on Arkham Asylum.

"May we have fun Tonight." Dante laughed silently his hair transforming back to it's original Flamey White Form, his eyes crimson red with Green Rimmings and Pupils white and slit like that of a cat.

"The Nightmare Realms Await your Damnation." Fright Knight said as he hops back on his Mare and became Invisible as he followed his Master.

[ꜱᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 30, 9:00 ᴀᴍ, ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴏʀ, ʙᴀᴛᴄᴀᴠᴇ]

┈◈◉◈┈┉[𝙳𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚜𝚘𝚗 & 𝚃𝚒𝚖 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝙿𝙾𝚅]┉┈◈◉◈┈

"This is... So gruesome- his head is completely crushed but not by something, and it can't be possibly someone unless-" Tim Sputters out in a fast Speaking pace but Dick Interrupts. "Calm Down Baby Bird, Slow Down your talking, let's look at the cameras again okay? Breathe." Dick demonstrates breathing slowly in and out and Tim replicates that slowly calming himself down.

"Okay..." They review the camera clips of Scarecrow's Cell, they couldn't see much as the clip was obviously corrupted with... Green and Red Glitches. They can hear some voices.

["ｍ𝔂 𝕃Ɨ𝑒𝕘𝑒 𝓱𝐚丂 𝓭𝑒ĆƗ𝓭𝑒𝓭 𝐓𝓱𝐚𝐓 𝔂Øย 𝔀Ɨᒪᒪ ๒𝑒 卩ย𝐍Ɨ丂𝓱𝑒𝓭 ย卩Ø𝐍 м𝔂 ĆØмм𝐚𝐍𝓭, ⓕØя 𝓱ยя𝐓Ɨ𝐍𝕘 Øยя 卩яƗ𝐍Ć𝑒 𝔂Øย 丂𝓱𝐚ᒪᒪ 卩𝐚𝔂 𝐓𝓱𝑒 卩яƗĆ𝑒 𝔀Ɨ𝐓𝓱 𝔂Øยя 𝑒𝐓𝑒я𝐍𝐚ᒪ 𝓭𝐚м𝐍𝐚𝐓ƗØ𝐍 Ɨ𝐍 𝐓𝓱𝑒 ƤƗ𝐓丂 Øⓕ 𝐓𝓱𝑒 ⓝƗ𝕘𝓱𝐓м𝐚я𝑒 ⓡ𝑒𝐚ᒪм."] The voice said, it was all static and clicks and hisses, Tim could barely translate it. Trying to find and piece the sounds together but he fails miserably instead.

"It hurts in the ears.... Something is clearly not right and I don't like it. The other population in Arkham are also Terrified, especially the ones near Scarecrow's Cell." Tim flips through the Files, "They Described seeing a man with a Flame like White Hair Walking down the halls past their cell towards Scarecrow's, and a ... Horse?? A Black horse with wings, fangs and Red Glowing Eyes that's being ridden by a Black Armored Knight that also had Red Eyes. One of them claimed to having nightmares about that said Entity upon making eye contact." Tim states seeing the sketches the 'people' near Scarecrow's Cell have made.

One of them sketched out a terrifying picture of said horse and it's rider. It's like something out of a horror movie. "... So... A flame like white hair man and a knight with a terrifying Horse, okay- wow- that's a lot of information that I will never honestly understand. The thing now is ... Did they, were they the one who crushed Scarecrow's skull into bits and pieces? Maybe I should call Raven after all—" Dick said nervously, and oddly terrified of the drawings, it's as if they're staring right at their souls, sentient and about to go hunting.

Nightwing/Dick adjusts his Suit's Neck trying to shake off the feeling of this chilling fear. Tim folds the papers and puts them in the files back again, also getting cold and chilled. "Maybe it IS supernatural? A demon? Maybe. Maybe a demon but there has to be a motive somewhere, there's Always a motive, did Scarecrow make a deal with a demon? Possible , or maybe this demon had a grudge but why a grudge? What's the cause??" Tim scratches his head trying to review every single footage given to him but he freezes.

"Oh fuck." Tim backtracks and plays the video footage on rewind and pauses at the right time. "A CLEAR FRAME! FUCK YEAH!" Tim yelled out loudly feeling victorious.

"Language Young Master Tim." Alfred corrects him as he places the cup of coffee by his desk, "Ah sorry Alfred and thank you for the coffee.... Just got caught up in this Case." Tim says as he sat back down.

"It's quite alright Young Master Tim, but Remember, indoor voice." Alfred smiles gently and Tim just nods, Alfred Walked off leaving Dick and Tim by themselves again.

Tim analyzes the blurry but not too glitched photo and trying to make out a picture and a clear frame of the suspect's face. The Man was looking at the camera with an obvious grin, his face was more glitchier than the others around but it was obvious his eyes were glowing and a piercing red with Green Rimmings. His Hair was indeed flame-like.

"Maybe, just maybe this person or demon or SOMETHING is in our system." Tim was frantic and desperate now trying to find this... Terrifying thing.

One File Came Up in the Bat-Computer.

"Dante.. Jamie Masters...?" Tim questioned himself. Because this was the Bartender of his Local Coffee Shop, and The Bartender who he got along with because of His Baby Brother.

Wait.

Didn't his Baby Brother Get Caught In the Fear Toxin Attack...? Was that.... The motive?

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Dante plopped into bed as he finished washing the blood off his body, He was pleased with himself and what he has done, his core purred in happiness for it has been so long since he's done something like this, not after his redemption for Danny.

╔⏤⏤╝𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐧(𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝)╚⏤⏤╗

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤

....𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞.𝐩𝐧𝐠

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡 : 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬.

𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐄𝐜𝐨𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 : 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐀𝐀𝐀𝐀𝐀𝐇!!!! 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 : 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐰, 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 :3

....𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞.𝐩𝐧𝐠

𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 : 𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞

𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 : 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓. 𝐇𝐔𝐇?? 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓- 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆?? 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑??

𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐄𝐜𝐨𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 : 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃!

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡 : 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬

𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫/𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬//:𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤/𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰-𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝-𝐢𝐧-𝐡𝐢𝐬-𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐥...

𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 : 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐘'𝐒 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐌- 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔-

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐝 : 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲.

𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄!!

𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐄𝐜𝐨𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 : 𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐞.

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐝 : 𝐒𝐀𝐌!! 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊!!

𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐄𝐜𝐨𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 : 𝐍𝐮𝐡-𝐮𝐡

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐝:𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐍𝐔𝐇-𝐔𝐇???!?!?

Dante laughed as he read the messages very amused by their reactions, although it's concerning that kids like them find this normal but then again they've been through worse and Trauma so it's reasonable for now—

..╔⏤⏤⏤╝𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬╚⏤⏤⏤╗

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬: 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐉𝐨𝐛.

Dante stared at the Message pleased with himself. Not knowing he's about to get into a lot of shit because of one single frame that recognizes him.

Oh well, he'll get away with it... Maybe.

GHRAAAAH anyways

:33, that's the end for Dan Mission XD now it's gonna be Dan getting JL and JLD's attention because of a single frame, RIP.

Translation for the Glitched Text :

["𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐦."]

Enjoy as always. <33.