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itsuki-minamy · 7 months

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"AYAKA - THE EVE OF A SPECIAL WEDDING" (Novel)

TRANSLATION: NARU-KUN

CHAPTER 6: DECISIVE BATTLE AT KISUI PALACE (Part 2)

* List of Chapters

It is said that his ancestor was a snake that lived in the sea.

Since ancient times, a pair of twin dragons have lived on Ayaka Island. The twin dragons, who rule water and fire, have come into conflict with each other and coexisted, causing life energy to flow and nourishing trees, fish, insects and beasts. The circulating life force harmonizes all things and eventually returns to the life line. The lives congratulated the twin dragons who brought them there, and many followers were born to the great twin dragons. The snake belonged to one of them, the water dragon.

He lived near Gonoshima. One day, a human man appeared there. The snake, who did not know anyone with a will other than herself, became interested in the man and finally fell in love with him. Snakes and humans mixed and gave rise to a clan. Those who live between land and sea: spiritual people.

"That is why we have built our temple here. As children of our mother, the Great Sea Serpent, and our father, human, we have built a shrine of shining land and deep water, the Kisui Palace."

"Whatever you say. So, they're going to push me into deep waters from now on?"

Trapped in a spiral, Jingi looked down at the sea far below and felt a pang of sadness.

The place where Jingi and the Elder were located was near the zenith of Kisui Palace, in a place called "Kerukaido". Of all the sanctuaries submerged in the sea, this tower was the one that went furthest into the sea. A long, narrow bridge crosses the center of the donut-shaped square, and the pitch-black ocean stretches below. Countless bonfires were lit around them, and spirits swayed silently beneath them. Only the low rhythm of the fishing drum could be heard, mixing with the sound of the waves.

The old man looked at Jingi's face and smiled.

"If you wish, Jingi-sama, you can play underwater. You will be able to do so."

"What I want is to untie this rope, return to Ninoshima and have fun with my drinking friends."

Despite the biting tone of his words, the old man's soft smile did not falter. He stroked his white beard and nodded slowly.

"Your wish will come true. Once the congratulations are over, there is no need to tie Jingi-sama up anymore. You can swim to Ninoshima at any time. Sango-sama doesn't like alcohol, but... if Jingi-sama wishes, she will join you for a drink in the evening."

"How am I supposed to drink it inside that guy's belly?"

"You should drink the sake that Sango-sama drank."

The old man laughed, but it didn't seem like a joke.

Suddenly, the rhythm of the fishing drum stopped.

On the other side of the bridge, Sango appeared dressed in white. A pure white cotton hat shines faintly in the light of the full moon.

It was hard to tell what her expression was because she had her head down, but her red lips seemed to be smiling.

Jingi, on the other hand, was wearing a black-crested haori and hakama, but he was tied so tightly that he looked completely tattered compared to his girlfriend. Still, since the only people in the audience were the spiritual people, no one but Jingi cared.

"Now then, Jingi-sama. Go ahead."

The old man turned around and muttered a little.

The center of the bridge is a round pedestal. The idea is for the couple to meet there. He really didn't want to think about what would happen there. Jingi turned his head and made a final plea to the old man behind him.

"Hey, Elder. I don't want to die yet."

"We will not die. We will become one, Jingi-sama."

"So that means I'm going to die! It's going to eat me, right?"

Stroking his white beard, the old man shook his head pitifully.

"It seems like you're misunderstanding something, Jingi-sama. You're not going to be eaten... well, something like that may turn out along the way. Your existence won't disappear."

Pushed from behind, Jingi was forced to take another step forward. Likewise, Sango approached. Jingi let out a strained voice.

"You mean you can live inside her belly? Are you serious?"

"I'm serious. If her husband dies after this blessing, how will the head of Kisui Palace be able to have a child? Sango-sama's father is still alive. In her mother's body. Yatsuchi-sama said that she and her husband live happily together.''

"Did you ever talk to that father? After Sango was born?"

After a moment of silence, the old man muttered to himself.

"No. Now that I think about it, never."

"No! I'm going home! Please let me go home!"

Jingi turned his head and shouted. Still, his legs continued to move forward on their own. As if some kind of magic had been applied to him, he couldn't move freely except from the neck up.

The old man murmured in admiration.

"Hmm. I'm really impressed with how serious your death will be, Jingi-sama. You have a pure soul, free of things like shame or outside rumors."

"Don't praise that!"

"As expected, being chosen by the "Kisuirin" is all that is needed. That is to find someone suitable to be the husband of the head of the Kisui Palace. That is what it means to be you."

At that moment, an idea flashed through Jingi's head.

No, in fact, from the moment he heard the truth about those squama, he had doubts in his heart. That is...

"No way! You guys came right after I sold that squama?! Can such a convenient coincidence happen?! You must have framed me!"

The old man blinked once.

His eyes alternated between seeing Jingi's desperate face and Sango slowly approaching from the distance. Jingi did not miss that the same light that was in her own heart shone there.

"Who told you to go to Ninoshima at that time?! When I let go of the squama, who was it that told you to go ahead with the wedding?"

"It was Sango-sama. She was ready."

"Then it's her doing! She set it up!"

Jingi realized that the old man was not involved in the plan. That was good news. This old man was stubborn, cold, and inorganic, but Jingi knew that he was a stickler for the rules. If it turns out that it was Sango's trick that caused the "Kisuirin" to no longer be Jingi's, then the old man might reconsider the legitimacy of this marriage.

"Give the "Kisuirin" to the couple you meet for the first time. Unless the potential couple returns it, we will consider the marriage ceremony to be completed."

The old man said foolishly. After blinking a few times, his pupils opened horizontally. Like the eyes of a frog.

"No one has ever introduced any kind of arbitrariness into it. Hmm..."

"That's right! Is that true?! Isn't that your rule?"

They were already a few meters from Sango. Coral eyes peered out from under the cotton hat. Her pale pink eyes were redder than usual and seemed to shine in a bewitching way.

The old man was silent for a while and then nodded.

"You didn't return the "Kisuirin". That's all, Jingi-sama. Even if Sango-sama was involved in that, there is no clause in the rules that prohibits it."

And all of Jingi's hope vanished.

He finally reached the central pedestal. Sango had a shy smile on her face, like a bride who has been waiting for this moment. Jingi's heart pounded. Out of fear, of course.

"Tonight, under this moon. We will be a couple forever. Dear Jingi-sama."

Sango slowly extended her hand towards Jingi and caressed his stiff cheek. On her hands were pale blue scales and unusually long nails. Her pink lips parted and a forked tongue appeared. The human-shaped spot on the snake's belly flickered in his mind, and Jingi imagined his own face pressed against it.

Unable to bear it, Jingi screamed.

"Yukito! What are you doing? Help me quickly! Your master will be eaten!"

He didn't expect a response to his screams of fear.

However, there was a response. A different roar and vibrations to the rhythm of the fishing drum shook the foundation of the "Kerukaido".

Sango lost her balance and almost fell into the sea, but immediately caught herself. Her face showed confusion and anger, like that of a bride whose wedding is interrupted.

"What is happening, Elder?"

The old man craned his neck and looked out to sea. That was also reflected in Jingi's vision. A part of the Kisui Palace wall that jutted into the sea was completely destroyed, emitting black smoke.

The old man said calmly.

"You are a bother."

Sango wrinkled her nose. If she weren't noble, she would have clicked her tongue. Instead, Sango ordered sharply.

"Then delete them."

"As orders."

With his hands tied behind his back, the old man stepped into the air as naturally as if he were descending the stairs.

+++++++++++

"Man, earth and sky, it's like bowing!"

At the same time as Ibara's voice, multiple thunderclaps were heard.

She invaded the room at the speed of light. About five spiritual beings were struck by the lightning, they convulsed and fell to the ground, unable to move. Yukito was worried that they weren't dead, but he crossed his fingers and completed the technique.

"Man, earth and sky! Water, do not fight for the good of all things, but confront the evils of all people!"

This time it was not necessary to generate water from scratch. There was plenty of water in the numerous jugs placed there.

The water rose like well-kneaded clay and destroyed the spirits that were trying to surround Yukito and his friends. They are not closely related, but with a hoe, sickle or hammer in hand, they are enough to pose a threat.

There were about ten spirits enveloped in a body of water. Ibara immediately used a lightning technique. The spiritual beings who were electrocuted by the water bounced like fish thrown onto the shore and then floated in the water like fish. Yukito quickly spat them out of the water, trying to at least prevent them from drowning.

On the other hand, Ibuki was engaged in a fierce battle with two courtiers.

"Moth, Moth, I follow the life of the ocean dragon and collect all my thoughts."

With a unique sounding spell, countless water snakes emerged from under Josei's feet and attacked Ibuki. Ibuki quickly lowered his gun and pulled the trigger.

A single bullet meant nothing to a swarm of water snakes. Unless that bullet is imbued with witchcraft.

The moment the bullet came into contact with a piece of water, it exploded, dispersing a shock wave. The air in the room trembled and the pure blue technique turned into a stream of water that soaked the place. Later, even Josei himself stepped on the tatara.

"The gutter!"

Uzura jumped towards him, trying to get in front of him.

The fists of both hands were black and hard. As if by some kind of magic, he shook his obsidian-like fist and the hall shook again, causing a huge crack to appear on the stone floor. Ibuki avoided it just in time, clicked his tongue loudly and backed away even further, releasing three consecutive shots.

Two shots veered off course from him and landed on the wall and ceiling, and the other shot was deflected by Uzura's fist. Uzura pursed his lips tightly, moving even closer to Ibuki.

"Hmph."

Ibuki snorted mockingly.

The bullets embedded in the walls and ceiling exploded and returned with a bright light. It turned into multiple beams of light, traveling from the walls and ceiling to the muzzle of the gun and crashing into the back of Uzura, who was on its way. Uzura, who had stumbled forward, crashed into the water jug as if he were flip-flopping, breaking it into pieces.

"Amazing..."

Forgetting the situation, Yukito admired him. Both Josei and Uzura should be difficult opponents. He also remembered that Ibara was going through a difficult time with Sango. However, Ibuki seemed to be the only one taking control of them.

"Yukito! Don't look away!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

Scolded by Ibara, Yukito made the seal again. The spirits entered the room one after another, trampling the unconscious allies and trying to capture Yukito and his friends.

"If you are brave, you will be killed; if you are not brave, you will live!"

Along with the technique, Ibara's body glowed faintly. Even the glove on her right arm emitted a silver glow, and she punched, kicked, and threw the spirits that attacked in groups at a speed that could not be seen. All Yukito could do was manipulate the water and keep the enemy away as much as possible.

(I have to go up...!)

As much as he could, Yukito searched for a way to the upper floor. Jingi should be giving a congratulatory speech in "Kerukaido" right now. Get there and regain custody. Jingi himself is a powerful connection, so, if he could break the seal caused by the cursed tool, his chances of success would increase.

A loud shot was heard.

Surprised, he looked and saw a huge hole in the hallway wall. Beyond the black smoke, he could see the night sky filled with stars. And below he saw Josei, covered in soot, kneeling.

"It's the end."

Ibuki said it coldly and loaded the bullet. Josei looked at him expressionlessly.

At this moment, a voice echoed from a hole in the hallway.

"It was foolish of me to leave it to the brats."

An old man appeared from the hole, as if he was passing through the air.

It's the Elder.

With his hands tied behind his back, the old man descended through the air step by step. He said quietly, not paying attention to the kneeling Josei.

"I'll take care of this guest. Find the other rats and kill them."

"Yes."

"As orders."

Uzura and Josei stood up and turned to Yukito and the others. That alone made Yukito's body stiffen, and Ibara held the glove up to them.

However, with a sigh, the old man reprimanded his subordinates.

"How stupid are you brats? I'm not talking about them; I'm talking about the rats that crawl underground."

Uzura and Josei looked at each other and then started running at the same time. At the side of the hall, they jumped to the place where the spirits came out and disappeared.

Ibuki shouted.

"Yukito, Ibara, go after them! Help the children of Kaizumi Shrine!"

"......!"

A moment later, Yukito and his friends also realized that. The old man pointed to Chatarou and Yako who were hiding. If Josei and the others found them, they would not hesitate to "get rid of them".

That's all they have to stop them.

"Follow me!"

Ibara ran towards the hallway where the pure blue sky was. She punched the ghost that came out of there and then jumped over the area where he fell unconscious and continued forward. Yukito followed her, gritting his teeth.

+++++++++++

Chatarou and Yako were walking through a dark, damp hallway.

Due to the effects of the technique, they can recognize the appearances of others. But they can't make any sound. The spell won't be broken by just making a sound, but if a voice comes out of nowhere, the people present will probably wonder what it is. And spiritual men were everywhere. They went back and forth from one place to another carrying dishes, musical instruments or tools that they do not understand, such as hoes, sickles and hammers. Each time, Chatarou and Yako had to hold their breath and hide behind the scenes to avoid being hit by them.

(So where is what we're looking for?)

In an area where the number of people coming and going had become scarce, he wrote it down in his notebook instead of using his voice and showed it to Yako.

At night, he put his serious face and take notes the same way.

(There is no way for me to know.)

That's how it is. They've only been to Kisui Palace once and they don't even know what's there. So there's no way to know.

But they could make a guess.

Chatarou and Yako moved down the hallway. Towards the side where there are no people.

He had heard from Yukito what the "Kisuirin" was. It appears to be a shiny gemstone the size of a chicken egg.

If it is a treasure like that, it should be kept somewhere. A safe or treasure chest. It is probably located in a particularly secluded location within the Kisui Palace. He doesn't know if they distrusted thieves, but he was sure they kept important things in hard-to-reach places.

However, he had no idea how to get to such a place. Neither of them had yet been taught how to pick locks or find hidden places.

(If the master were here, there might have been a different method.)

Chatarou thought that as he looked at Yako who was walking next to him. Yako was also looking at Chatarou with the same expression on his face. Even without notes, they can communicate to that point.

Kurama Haruaki. Chatarou and Yako's master. If only he were there...

But he's not there right now. Although he said he would come, he never showed up until the day they finally carried out the mission.

Chatarou didn't have any deep worries about that. Although Kurama Haruaki was an extremely good connection, there were some areas where he lacked. Maybe he got lost somewhere, or maybe he just accidentally set the time wrong. Chatarou had no idea that something had happened to him. However, it may happen that he appears suddenly after everything is finished.

The two continued forward. Towards the unpopular side.

(...Yako.)

(What?)

(Do you know where we come from?)

Yako shook his head with a dull expression on his face.

Apparently he got lost. As a result of moving from the least popular aisle to the least popular, they have completely lost their bearings. A dimly lit, board-lined hallway stretches on and on. There was a wall to the left and a row of tatami rooms to the right, but they looked like they hadn't been used for a while. It smelled of damp tatami mats and wet sliding doors.

However, Chatarou didn't think it was that bad. He was an optimistic boy. First of all, if you don't even know where your destination is, there is no way you can get lost. Search blindly. That was all the two of them could do now.

At this moment, Yako stopped and pulled Chatarou's sleeve.

(Please watch.)

Chatarou looked towards the door, indicated by a note and a finger.

There was a heavy door on the left wall. The appearance is clearly different from other doors. Above all, carved into its surface was a pattern that Chatarou and his friends were familiar with. Two dragons chasing each other. It is the patron saint of the twin dragon that is enshrined at the Kaizumi Shrine where they serve.

It seemed like an important place.

And there must be something important in important places.

Chatarou and Yako nodded and tried to open the door together. At first, it didn't move when they pulled, so they both put their weight on it and pushed as hard as they could. Then, the door moved slightly with a creaking sound. Chatarou's face turned bright red and he continued pushing, finally, there was a space big enough for a person to pass through. Chatarou passed first, then Yako.

Inside was a staircase leading down.

He tried to close the door, but no matter how hard he pulled on it, it wouldn't budge. Finally, the two gave up. If someone could see the door ajar, they might discover that there had been a robbery, but they would open it anyway when they returned. They thought they could get in quickly and return quickly.

They both fell. Poom. Poom.

"That's a long staircase."

Chatarou grumbled loudly. In the dim light, he could see that Yako was looking accusingly at Chatarou.

"It's okay. No matter how you look at it, there is no one here."

"...Well, that's right."

Reluctantly, Yako admitted. The stairs were long and dark and there was no sign of anyone. If someone is coming from above or below, they could hear their footsteps.

Finally, a low vibration and the sound of an explosion came from above.

Chatarou couldn't help but look up. He was probably initiated by Ibuki and others. To get Jingi back or to buy time until Chatarou and his friends find the "Kisuirin".

Chatarou muttered to himself as he walked down the stairs.

"Yukito, are you okay?"

He was worried. There was something about Yukito that he couldn't leave alone. They assume he has talent. Probably more than Chatarou and Yako. However, his new friend was quiet, reserved, and seemed unfit for battle. Even at that very moment, his spiritual connections can corner him.

By saying that, Yako also showed that he was of the same opinion. He silently looked towards the stairs and said:

"Let's hurry up."

If they can find the "Kisuirin" and return it as quickly as possible, the battle will be over. Jingi will be back. And Chatarou and his friends will be able to return to Ninoshima without missing anyone. They put their hands on the wall and began to descend quickly.

Finally, the wall he touched began to turn into a rocky surface. The ground beneath their feet began to feel rough, as if they had been carved directly from stone.

The sensation suddenly changed to something soft.

When he looked down, he saw that the stairs had ended. The straight path is lined with wet white sand. The smell of the ocean became even stronger and the drops falling from above ran down his cheeks and into his mouth. It was salty.

"Salty! Is that sea water?"

When Chatarou said that, Yako frowned suspiciously.

"That can't be true. Because... no..."

He murmured into his mouth and looked up. The sheared rock ceiling was wet and shiny.

The two went down the stairs. During that time, it never folded. He wasn't sure of the direction, but if those were stairs leading to the sea, wouldn't that mean they were at the bottom of the sea? Finally, his prediction came true.

At the end of the hallway was a huge dome. There was a blanket of white sand under their feet, and the curved walls and ceiling were filled with black sea water. The white bellies of the schools of fast-swimming fish reflect the light emitted from inside the dome.

The two watched the fantastic scene with their mouths wide open.

"Is this... a jutsu?"

"Yes, I guess. But at least..."

Yako looked around and said without hiding his disappointment.

"It doesn't seem like a hidden treasure. What we want isn't here."

"......"

Still, Chatarou did not give up and walked towards the center of the dome, taking quick steps. There may be shiny squama's buried somewhere in this sand. At that moment, he heard a voice from behind.

"The clear water mesh is strong and the exorcism is fast!"

Something like a wind that could not be touched passed through Chatarou's body. The moment Chatarou stepped on the tatara and looked back, he realized that his and Yako's hidden form had dissolved.

Then, behind them, at the entrance to the dome, were two expressionless spirits standing.

"Yako!"

At the same time as he let out a cry of alarm, a large spirit man rushed forward, kicking up sand. On the other hand, the little spirit man, Josei, pointed his index finger at Chatarou and muttered a spell. Intuitively thinking it was a trick, Chatarou turned his body around and threw himself onto the sand. Ultra-high pressure water brushed against Chatarou's arm. He winced at the pain, which felt like fever, but he still made the seals and perfected his technique.

"Those who do not lose their place are already gone, and those who do not die are already gone!"

An armor of strong winds swirled around Yako. The great spirit man paused for a moment. At this moment, Yako took out a fire-breathing bamboo and completed the spell.

"Between heaven and earth, it is like a veil!"

Flames erupted from the bamboo tube, threatening to burn the great spiritual man, but he was saved. Both hardened fists waved rapidly, dispersing the flames. With sullen lips, the great spirit man looked at Yako and then at Chatarou.

Chatarou shouted as he backed away.

"Th-these guys are the palace priests! What are we going to do, Yako?!"

"H-how is this..."

Murmuring into his mouth, Yako also took a step back. According to Ibara's analysis, the priests are stronger than Ibara. And Ibara is stronger than Chatarou and Yako. With two opponents like that, there was no way they could win.

He gritted his teeth. Josei raised his finger again. Could he avoid it next time? To what extent can it be avoided? The image of his body being pierced by that high-pressure water and the white sand stained with blood flashed through his mind.

"Man, earth and sky, it's still like drawing a bow!"

A spell echoed further from behind the palace officials.

The two palace priests narrowly avoided the lightning.

Two more people burst in from the entrance to the dome. They were Ibara and Yukito. When they saw Chatarou and Yako cornered, they immediately used their techniques.

"A fish must not escape from the abyss. A dishonorable vessel must not be shown to anyone!"

"Where the teacher is, there will be thorns!"

A spreading water net and a glowing glove attacked the two palace leaders. When Josei raised his hand, the water nets stopped in the air and formed a shape that linked them together. Meanwhile, Ibara and the great spirit man began to engage in a striking hand-to-hand combat. The black and silver fists collided, sending sparks into the humid air.

Chatarou and Yako took a deep breath and then signaled to join the battle.

(This might work...!)

There's nothing just the two of them can do. But there are four people. Ibara is a great connection and Yukito's talent is obvious. If they can somehow outwit the palace chief, they could reverse the unfavorable war situation.

A roar that shook the ocean floor shattered that faint hope.

Ekkkkkkkkkkkkkkk...

The sound was so loud that the entire dome vibrated. It's as if the sea itself is screaming.

The first to react were the priests. They backed up to the wall of the dome, looked up at the same time, and knelt there.

Josei said quietly.

"Our mistress is angry. A terrestrial creature desecrated her sleeping place without permission."

The great spiritual man also murmured in a low voice.

"It seems that Yatsuchi-sama will swallow them all directly."

Before Chatarou could understand the meaning of those words, the walls of the dome collapsed and seawater entered.

+++++++++++

#ayaka #ibuki aka #yanagi yukito #sagawa jingi #kurama haruaki #ichijou ibara #fukuwake chatarou #amano yako #sango

1 note · View note

blondrichclosetwitch · 2 years

Text

You’re untrustable

I know you wouldn't be if you could choose

Now I’m doing time

“That was just a bait and switch.”

Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know

Well, now they know

“You will not control the threesome. We formed a new religion.”

No sins as long as there's permission and deception is the only felony

Please don't play that song on me again, I'lI explode

I might know what you mean when you say you fall apart

“The reason so many people are here is about to walk out on that stage right now.”

Don't be all up on my french toast when that butter come ((when the TR —or perhaps someone pretending to be her— told me she was my twin sister for 36 lifetimes, I went to milk and roses and she told me what to order, and was adamant about the French toast.that was in May.)

Then you had the nerve to say you're hurt and I'm just like, 'you know what you chose'

There's several different levels to Devil worshippin': horse's heads, human sacrifices, cannibalism, candles and exorcism, animals

Look at me, entrancer!

I got the urge to move

I wander through each chartered street and mark in every face I meet, marks of weakness, marks of woe (mark linkous) but mostly, through midnight streets I hear how the youthful harlot's curse blasts the new-born infant's tear

You keep on building the lies that you make up for all that you lack

It's easier to believe in this sweet madness~~oh, this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees in the arms of the angel

(Both these are really nice; the ref to mark seeing himself in each person he passes, and that each time I fall, katie cradles my head. Fwiw, mark linkous is the only spirit who asked to be taken off the wall)

(Oh yeah one of the women who did black magic on me is in london)

We're supposed to be a land of liberty

We are thoroughly tongue tied

More chances to get Together

Now all your friends are gathered; we are thoroughly shattered

Our collective memories we jog as we negotiate the fog

When you get down to the truth, it hurts me

Wishful, sinful, wicked you

Can't escape the blue

Do you follow me?

Then follow me to:

Further complications in store.

Did you reel it like a rabbit

And did you see me sing this song

Where did it all go wrong

We travel on together searching for the end

Yes it really really really could happen

No one here is alone

“Don’t think about the fact that there might be police around.”

Arrest that dude

“Dude I don’t think I can ride with you.”

Must have been a ghost that passed out

Hey you’re not a criminal but you do need to relax

This bed blows up in three minutes

You can store a mattress too…. in the fucking bedroom(the mattress they did their satanic shit on is against the wall)

I’m never gonna love again

Can we start all over again

The more that you see the less you seem to be free

And when I wrote it down I felt like such a clown but you understood; I knew you would

“…and I’m ready to shape the scheme of things.”

Just as long as I can see, I'll never stop this vision flowing

“Tell me the cost. I can pay.”

The sky's above our heads, the sea's around our legs

“What if I told you none of it was accidental?”

Strategy sets the scene for the tale

It was all by design

'Cause I'm a mastermind

Now I’m never gonna let you go

Out amongst the walking wounded, every face on every train is you and me and him and her, some days I think I could go insane

You were thinking ahead to a future you must have known deep down would not include you

My brain fails

My knees fail

My words fail

It happens today

She's gonna make them well aware

She's an angry gal

Day-In Day-Out

Shootin her with video-drugs-bullets and promises

They love to see me lonely, hate to see me happy

Call me what you want, she call me "daddy"

Something keeps love away and I can feel it

You claim you're not involved but you're in up to your neck

You said it would last, but I guess we enrolled in 1984

I keep seeing this picture of you

Hide my head, I wanna drown my sorrow

I find it hard to tell you.

You’re trapped

But you can't stick your neck out

We are rid of you at last

#today is a 38/20/11/02 #nusch knows #682hours 6 min

0 notes

messers-moony · 3 years

Text

Hope 2 | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Potter!Reader

Summary: Life is unfair in numerous ways but it seems like it’s out to get the Potters in every way shape and form.

The huge eight-foot man who introduced himself as Hagrid was bringing Harry around London. It was amusing to see Hagrid turn his cousin - Dudley - butt into a pigtail after trying to eat his birthday cake. It was the first birthday Y/n, and Remus hadn’t shown up. Harry didn’t blame them. Of course, to be fair, they didn’t know where Harry was.

“Um, excuse me, Hagrid?”

“Yes, ‘Arry?”

“Where- Where are we going?” Harry questioned hesitantly, and Hagrids lips curled into a smile, “‘Er gon’ meet with som’ of yer folks.” Hagrid answered.

Harry wanted to jump with joy, “Moony and Y/n?”

Hagrid nodded, and Harry smiled brightly. It took a couple of minutes and walking of a couple more blocks. But eventually, they were coming up on an old-looking building made of black stone bricks. In front of the door was a familiar sandy-haired male with green eyes. He was accompanied by his wife with h/c hair and gleaming e/c eyes.

“Y/n! Remus!”

Y/n turned to see her little nephew running up to hug her tightly, “Hey Harry.”

Remus ruffled his hair while Harry hugged his aunt, “Hey there, mini Prongs.”

“I missed you.”

“Awe, I missed you too, Harry.” Y/n replied, pulling apart from Harry, “I’m sorry we didn’t show up right away. But we’re here now. I hope that’s okay. We wouldn’t miss your birthday for the world, okay?”

He nodded, “I know. I can always count on you.”

“Good.” Remus stated, “Now c’mon mini prongs. Gotta get your school supplies.”

Walking into the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid, they were greeted by multiple people. Many people were flabbergasted by meeting the famous Harry Potter and were welcoming to see Y/n Potter. In the back of the Leaky Cauldron, Hagrid tapped his wand against the brick wall, causing it to open into Diagon Alley. Harry’s mouth was agape at this new form of Magic.

It was astonishing. The narrow alleyway was packed with people. Clusters of them walking in groups. Some were carrying animals, or brown-wrapped items Harry could suppose were books. Y/n smiled and intertwined her hand with Remus’. She could remember the first time she stepped into Diagon Alley. James was acting like such a prat.

“Woah!” James gasped, “Look at all the cool stuff!”

Fleamont chuckled, “Yeah. Isn’t it cool, sweetheart?”

Y/n nodded, completely entranced in the stonework in the alleyway. It was littered with different shops, and the roads were an uneven stone. Euphemia and Fleamont shared a look of pure glee. Their children were magical born, and they were finally experiencing it first hand. Of course, they had their incidents where Y/n would make lights flicker or James blowing plates.

As they began walking, James began to run off, bumping into people left and right, “James! Get back here!” Fleamont scolded, but he was out of sight.

Euphemia sighed, “He’s gonna be a handful.”

“Definitely.” Fleamont agreed, running a hand through his dark brunet hair, “Perhaps he’ll be even worse than me.”

His wife glared at him. Despite James disappearing, they took Y/n into Flourish and Blotts to get their books. They needed books such as The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1), A History of Magic, Magical Theory, A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Magical Drafts and Potions, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and finally, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection.

They didn’t find James until they reached Quality Quidditch Supplies. He was already eyeing the new broom on display. His mouth seemed to be salivating at it. Y/n rolled her eyes at James, drooling over a piece of wood. Euphemia chuckled and motioned Fleamont to reel him back in. It seemed that Euphemia would never get a break, and her heart would be in a constant attack of worry. They had a mischief Quidditch player on their hands.

“C’mon Harry,” Y/n beckoned, “Lots of stuff to get.”

His smile faltered just a tad, “But I don’t- I don’t have any money.”

Harry’s embarrassment made the tips of his ears red, “That ain’t true. ‘Course ye got money.” Hagrid replied bluntly, making Y/n nudge him harshly, “Hagrid!”

“What?” Hagrid queried, confused, “‘S not like ‘m lyin’.”

“Yes, but you don’t just say that.” Y/n scolded, laughing lightly.

“Oops?”

Harry looked up at his flustered aunt, “Come on, Harry. We’re going to Gringotts.”

They began walking to the bank of wizardry. The goblin at the front allowed them to the vault, where Harry was able to pocket a couple of handfuls of galleons, sickles, and knuts. Hagrid made a separate trip for Dumbledore as the other three waited patiently. When they exited Gringotts, Harry began to buy all his supplies.

Their first stop was getting him a wand at Ollivander’s. Harry pushed the door open, and it sounded a bell off, but no one appeared the be in the shop. Remus and Y/n stood behind him as he let out a hesitant, “Hello.”

It took a minute, but then an older male appeared with hair as white as snow and wispy as whiskers. Ollivander smiled brightly at the familiar people in his shop and at the little boy who resembled the older female greatly.

“Ah, Y/n Potter.” Ollivander said, “James broken his wand again?”

Y/n released a shaky breath, “No, not this time.”

“We’re here actually for Harry here.” Remus motioned to Harry, “He’s getting his first wand. He starts at Hogwarts this year.”

Ollivander's lips quirked, “He yours?”

“No, sir.” Y/n shook her head, “He’s James and Lily’s son.”

“Where are they? I’d love to see them, you know.”

Remus shifted awkwardly, “You haven’t heard?”

Ollivander shook his head, “My parents are dead.” Harry informed, “Someone killed them.”

Everything clicked into place in Ollivanders mind. How stupid could old age make him? He had just sounded terribly insensitive, “‘M so sorry. Pardon me and my old age. I didn’t mean-“

“It’s perfectly fine, Ollivander.” Y/n smiled reassuringly.

The older man smiled and began giving Harry wands. The first one was horrid. It made wands on the shelf fall onto the ground, making a vast clatter noise. The boy smiled sheepishly and placed it back in the box. The next wand caused a shatter of a vase which Harry cringed at. It took a couple of minutes until Ollivander came out with the following wand. It was 11 inches long, made of holly, and possessed a phoenix feather core.

Harry waved the wand, and nothing disastrous happened. Remus and Y/n smiled with joy. Ollivander charged him seven galleons for it, and Harry placed down the golden coins with glee. Ollivander could remember the way James had done the same while Y/n beside him. Their identical toothy grins as Fleamont paid the man.

“My wands cooler than yours!”

“No way!”

James nodded in triumph, “You’re just lame.”

“And you’re boring!”

“No way!” James gasped, “I am far from boring!”

Y/n crossed her arms, “And I’m not lame.”

Euphemia chuckled, redirecting her children to look at the counter while the two parents stood behind them, “Ignore them. They like to try and be better than the other.”

Ollivander grinned, “Ah, siblings. What amazing pairs they make.”

Fleamont scoffed, “Yeah, try having two at the same time. Felt like the crucio curse.”

“What do you say?” Euphemia beckoned, and both twins turned to Ollivander, smiling gleefully, “Thank you!”

“They’ll be a handful.” Ollivander informed Euphemia and Fleamont, “But they’ll change the world, and they’ll do it together.”

The older man smiled at Remus and Y/n as Harry went outside to see Hagrid carrying a giant golden cage with a beautiful snowy owl inside, “That boy is something else.”

Remus chuckled, “We know. Little mischief-maker, just like James.”

“Perhaps he is,” Ollivander replied, “But he’ll change the world.”

The rest of the day went by blissfully. After getting all his school supplies, they retreated into the Leaky Cauldron to eat dinner. The tavern was practically empty as they sat at a long narrow table. Hagrid at the head, Harry to his left, Remus across, and Y/n beside Remus on the other side. They were eating in silence before Harry spoke up.

“What happened to my parents?” Harry questioned, and before anyone could answer, he continued, “Truthfully. No lies.”

Hagrid and Remus turned to the female at the table who swallowed thickly, “Something horrid, Harry.”

“How horrid?”

“Harry-“ Remus began.

“A death I wouldn’t wish upon anyone, even my worse enemy.” Y/n answered, staring at the soup in front of her, “The way they died doesn’t matter.”

Harry crossed his arms, “I believe it does.”

“In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t.” Y/n replied, taking deep breaths in and out, trying to stay calm, “It doesn’t matter how they died. They’re dead, and they aren’t coming back.”

Tears collected in her eyes when she muttered, “No matter how badly I want them to.”

Hastily Y/n wiped her face and placed her napkin on the table. She sniffled before standing and pushing her chair in. Y/n leaned down to kiss Harry on the forehead before retreating to the room they got upstairs. Harry sighed and stared at his bowl of soup that remained steaming hot. Remus rubbed his face with his palms.

“Harry,” Remus called, and Harry’s green eyes met similar ones, “Your parents died at the hands of a very evil Wizard. He went as dark as one could go.”

Harry looked intrigued, and Remus continued despite his throat beginning to constrict, “His name was Voldemort, but most people call him ‘You-Know-Who.”

Hagrid flinched at the actual name being said, “James risked everything to try and save you and your mother. When he died, Lily tried to save you. In the end, it all worked out because you were saved. You didn’t die like you were supposed to.”

“Why did aunt Y/n leave the table?”

“Talking about this is still hard for her.” Remus replied, and Harry could see the tears in his eyes too, “It’s hard for me too, but- but you need to know.”

“What were they to you?”

“James and Lily were everything to me, Harry. Everything and so much more. Your mother saw the good in people when they didn’t see it themselves. Your father? Well-“ He chuckled, “He was a trip and a prat. But he cared for those around him. Treated me like family and took care of me like a brother.”

Harry fiddled with the sleeve of his sweater, “James was a mischief-maker that one.” Hagrid said, “Always up to no good.”

“Him and that Sirius boy.” Hagrid chuckled, “Dynamic duo those two.”

Remus let out a tearful chuckle, “Yeah, that was Padfoot and Prongs.”

“Always up to no good.” Remus whispered.

The following day Remus had waken up to what he swore was the most perfect sight. Y/n was still sleeping beside him. Her head was nestled under his chin, drinking in his body heat. Her hair was laid against the fluffy white pillow. Their legs were intertwined together. Gently Remus kissed her forehead before seeing the clock read about nine o’clock.

Remus took five more minutes to admire her before waking her up. He began to kiss all over her face, and Y/n scrunched her nose, waking up as his lips kept attaching to a new place on her face. He smiled as she opened her eyes to meet his green ones.

“Mornin’ love.”

His Welsh accent was to die for, “Morning, Rem.”

“You ready to take Harry to Platform Nine and Three Quarters?”

Y/n shook her head, “No. Not really.”

“Hey,” Remus said softly, stroking her hair, “You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

“There are so many memories there, Rem.” Y/n replied, “Like- Like meeting Sirius for the first time.”

“Or seeing you come back after fourth year with an entirely new style.” Remus chuckled, “Or- Or seeing James almost fall out of the train.

Remus caressed her cheek with his thumb, “We’ll make it through, love. Harry needs us today.”

“Yeah.” She replied breathily, “He does.”

They both ventured out of bed into the cool air of London. Remus, Y/n, and Hagrid walked Harry to Kings Cross. When they arrived, Hagrid had departed from them to do something for Dumbledore. Harry was bluntly confused when his ticket read Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Last he checked, that wasn’t a platform.

As they reached the main floor of the train station, Remus and Y/n recognized the Weasleys almost instantly. Molly had embraced them tightly as they all went through the platform. Harry gave his trunks to the man at the end of the train and turned to the only family he had left. His eyes glistened with tears, and he tried to hold them back but failed.

“Harry,” Y/n knelt to his level, “You’re gonna be okay. I promise. James and I made lots of friends at Hogwarts.”

He smiled at the mention of his father, “Do you think… Do you think he’d be proud of me?”

“They’d be beyond proud, Harry.” Remus replied, smiling, “You’re everything they wanted you to be.”

Harry turned back to Y/n and hugged her tightly, “Please make sure you write to us.”

“‘Course, Auntie.” Harry replied as they pulled apart, “Love you guys.”

Y/n stood beside Remus, “We love you too, sweetheart.”

Harry smiled and wiped his cheeks before hopping on the train. He found a compartment alone and watched out the window as the train began moving. Y/n and Remus watched as the train hauled by. Kids who started waving their last goodbyes to their parents.

“Mum, dad!” James exclaimed from inside the compartment, “We love you!”

Euphemia and Fleamont chuckled tearfully, “We love you guys too!”

Truthfully James never wanted to leave his parents. They were his entire world. When Kings Cross was no longer in sight, he plopped down in the seat beside Y/n, who put her head on his shoulder. His left arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her tightly to his side.

“We got this, sis.” James assured, “We always have each other.”

It didn’t take long for Harry to get in trouble. As a matter of fact, it made Y/n laugh that within the first month, he had already managed a detention. She had settled for a letter rather than a Howler. Remus had made sure to tell him his fair of scolding words (“Say hi to Minnie for me!”). Harry smiled when the letter arrived in the morning.

Harry definitely made sure to say hi to “Minnie,” which made McGonagall smile like an idiot despite her usual strict nature. She could see and hear James saying the name when she gave them detention or Sirius’ pouty face begging her to have some form of mercy on them, for they had just turned the Slytherin robes red. Ever the dramatics that Black.

When he arrived back at the Platform, he nuzzled into Y/n and Remus’ arms before departing to the Dursleys. But all was good because in just a month he’d see them again for his birthday, which he did. They took him to Diagon Alley to get his second-year stuff along with some ice cream to celebrate his twelfth birthday.

He spent a week of his summer with them in their little house in London. It was far better than Privet Drive, and he felt a lot safer. But after the week was up, he was forced to return to the Dursleys. Within a week of being back, he’d managed to screw everything up. A thing named Dobby had quite literally dumped puddling all over one of the Dursley’s guests, and that got him trapped in his room.

Thankfully, Ronald Weasley, who had become his close friend, had saved him. Harry went to the Burrow for the first time and met everyone else. Molly had notified Remus and Y/n of his entrance. Sadly, they couldn’t make it to the Platform for reasons. Molly wouldn’t tell Harry, but he was okay with it.

Until Ron and he smashed into the brick wall, making them late for the train. It was then Ron had a brilliant thought of taking the flying car to Hogwarts. It did work until they got stuck in the Whomping Willow and then got caught by Severus Snape. A letter was sent home to Y/n and Molly. Both of which made two very different Howlers to their children.

Molly’s howler was scolding them, and it made Ron’s ears turn pink. Y/n and Remus’ howler was a different story. The moment it opened, laughter rang through the Great Hall. Familiar laughter of Remus and Y/n. It made McGonagall furious and happy at the same time.

“Merlin Harry!” Remus’ voice rang out, “You’re brilliant, aren’t you!”

“Remus, we’re supposed to be scolding him!” Y/n retorted jokingly, “I’m scolding myself for never thinking of it!” Remus replied.

Y/n chuckled, “Obviously, you shouldn't have done that, Harry; however, as long as you’re not harmed, we aren’t mad. Just be more careful next time.”

Remus was still dying of laughter, “Remus is still dying of laughter. We love you, Harry. Stay safe.”

Ron looked appalled with the coolness of the howler, “Bloody hell, you have a cool family.”

“They’re pretty cool.” Harry shrugged, smiling.

Y/n and Remus would be lying if the whole petrifying thing didn’t scare them. They were worried for Harry’s safety but weren’t surprised when Harry ended up saving them all like last year. When they were on the Platform, Remus began getting on the train with him after kissing Y/n goodbye.

He was grunting and groaning at every movement. The bags beneath his eyes looked more prominent than usual. Remus moved sluggishly, which was very unlike him. But Harry didn’t question it until he began to get on the train at Harry’s side.

“Uncle Moony?”

“Yes, Harry?” Remus replied after sitting in a compartment, his cloak covering most of his body.

“Why’re you on the train?”

He chuckled, “I’m your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.”

Harry smiled, and Remus fell into a dreamless sleep after a rough full moon the night prior. Hermione and Ron joined them not too long after as Harry began telling them about Sirius Black. The year went by as eventful as usual. Harry found out the accurate way his parents died along with Remus and Y/n. Peter Pettigrew being the culprit and then leaving before someone could catch him.

Afterward, Sirius had been staying in the guest bedroom at Y/n and Remus’. He didn’t want to go back to Grimmauld Place. That was the last place he wanted to go. So despite not wanting to be a burden, he took the position that Y/n offered him. Ever so kind, just like James. When he walked through those doors, Y/n had hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek.

“It’s good to have you back, older brother.”

Sirius could’ve cried on the spot, “It’s nice to see you again, little sis.”

The next couple of years were a trip. Fourth-year Harry had managed to get his name pulled out of the Goblet of Fire, leading to a new adventure of challenges. After finishing his fourth year, Cedric Diggory had died, marking the return of Voldemort, which had traumatized Harry in more than one way. That summer, he decided to stay with Y/n, Remus, and Sirius. They were all fantastic help throughout the entire thing. Through his nightmares, Y/n would make him hot chocolate and sit on the couch with him as he talked.

Fifth-year was dreadful. Delores Umbridge had come into the office as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and the Order of the Phoenix reformed. Her detentions were terrible and horrid, especially for the first years. They were just kids, for Merlin’s sake. It made Y/n fume when she saw the back of Harry’s hand. The night they ventured to the Department of Mysteries was almost the worst night Harry could have dreamed of.

Sirius had almost died if Y/n wasn’t as quick as she was. Bellatrix was stunned to see her spell deflected but kept firing nonetheless. When they got home, it was silent. Remus had made tea for himself and Sirius while making hot chocolate for the other two. Harry had laid his head on Y/n’s shoulder and fallen asleep.

Truth be told, sixth year wasn’t any better. Dumbledore had died, and Harry was left to find the rest of the Horcruxes. It was then Sirius learned the actual death of his brother, making him mourn him all over again. Seventh year Harry, Ron, and Hermione ventured out to find the rest of them.

When Harry returned to Hogwarts through the passageway to the Room of Requirement with Snape as headmaster, the war had officially started. In the end, everything had fallen into place. When Harry used the resurrection stone, he saw them. He saw James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius. Harry almost wanted to laugh at seeing them all together. They looked so happy.

“Where- Where’s Y/n?”

Remus gave a solemn smile, “She made it. She’s still out there. Waiting for you.”

“Does that mean…”

“Turns out my sister is a tougher cookie than I thought.” James stated, and Harry turned to him, “She misses you.”

James chuckled, “As I do her.”

Harry turned back to Remus, “Does she know?”

“She was there when it happened.” Remus replied, “I had to give her one last ‘I love you’ and kiss goodbye, right?”

A noise rumbled from a distance, “It’s time, sweetie.” Lily stated.

Harry released a shaky breath before dropping the stone on the ground. He had to do this for Y/n, for Ron, for Hermione, for everyone. He was ready. When he stepped in front of Voldemort to die, all he could think about was his Aunt's eyes. The way they glittered with tears when she let him go for the first time. The way they creased when she smiled at his first Christmas. The way they gleamed with mischief when she gave the Weasley twins new prank material.

His last words would be ones he’d never regret, “Thank you, aunt Y/n, for everything.”

Because through everything, she was the only constant. She was the only one to hold him through anything. Through every nightmare, every battle, every tear, every smile. She was there with her radiant smile and caring nature.

When Harry defeated Voldemort, the world stopped. It was done. It was over. But the pain wasn’t gone. The trauma wasn’t bypassed. This was more than a war. Harry walked into the Great Hall to see crying parents, kids, and siblings mourning their dead loved ones. His eyes zoomed on Y/n sitting crisscross beside her husband, holding his hand tightly.

Wordlessly Harry sat beside her and leaned his head against her shoulder. Y/n tilted her head onto his. No tears fell from her eyes despite everything she had gone through, two wars, friends dead, parents dead, brother dead, and now husband dead.

“His last words were- they were,” She choked, and Harry rubbed her shoulder, “I love you more than Moony loves the moon.”

Harry smiled, “Dad said you were a tough cookie.”

Y/n chuckled, and Harry relished in the sound, “He said that if anyone could get through this, it’s you.”

“Damn it, James.” She said to no one, still holding Remus’ hand.

“We’ll get through this.” Harry said, “And we’ll do it together.”

“Together.”

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 3 years

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When you think about the individual statistics of the bnha / mha characters, no other person has lost as much as Shigaraki Tomura has.

Let's see a list of the people he has lost so far:

Nana Shimura, his grandma from his father side (dead).

His grandma from his mother side (dead).

His grandpa from his mother side (dead).

Nao Shimura, his mother (dead).

Kotaro Shimura, his father (dead).

Hana Shimura, his sister (dead).

Mon-chan, his dog (dead).

Kurogiri, his parental figure (captured).

AFO, another terrible parental figure (that man never loved him I mean).

Magne, a friend (dead).

Twice, a friend (dead).

Mr. Compress, a friend (captured).

Giran, a friend (captured).

Toga, a friend (unknown location).

And now he doesn't even have his own body. This boy has lost like no one on this manga. And the people who hasn't died, they have several consequences like losing fingers, losing arms, etc.

The deaths surrounding Shigaraki are also more explicit and terrible than the rest. He has witnessed himself a good number of those deaths, at least half of them. All of them have been directly related to him, which means Shigaraki can freely blame himself for what happened, even if those were accidents and even if the people actively choose to participate on the actions that lead them to their deaths.

Shigaraki has the greatest killing rate, thanks to the big waves of his quirk he used both on the MVA arc and the War arc.

He has all the reasons to believe he's a monster. The problem comes when you realize he is a created monster, he wasn't born like that, contrary to what AFO has suggested before. What happened on the MVA and the War arc are twin situations to what happened with Tenko the night his quirk awoken. He lost his mind and the control over his quirk, leading to great catastrophes. We have evidence that he was not thinking clearly on those moments of great kill, but he was rather in great pain and very very scared, tortured by his mind. That pain and fear was caused by a great abuse that generated the feeling of pure hatred. In his three big killings, there's a pattern of him remembering his past and what happened with the Shimuras.

Now, almost half of the people on the list above choose to sacrifice themselves. Three of those people do it in order to save Tomura: Nao Shimura, Kurogiri and Mr. Compress. They have in common that they acted as Shigaraki's parental figures. We could include AFO, but only if we see what happen on Kamino from Shigaraki's perspective. We could include Twice but he was not exactly sacrificing himself consciously, he wanted to scape alive.

Two people on that list tried to kill Shigaraki: Kotaro and AFO. Both tried to shape his mind into what they wanted it to be and that lead to Tomura being unstable and sometimes unpredictable. We can see the symbolism of this in the fact that Kotaro's hand was always over Tomura's face, almost wanting to erase his identity, and when AFO possessed Tomura one of the first things we saw was him tearing apart Tomura's face. Other moment related to this is Tomura's confession to Doctor Ujiko in the beginning of My Villain Academia, were he states that he couldn't remember clearly his life before AFO. With limited information, including the years of manipulation from AFO, Tomura came to the conclusion he would never be satisfied and he would rather destroy it all– except what his colleagues wanted to save.

However, the majority of the people on that list loved Tomura and wanted to see him safe. What does this boy has that people keeps sacrificing themselves in order to try and save him? What makes them want to save Tomura?

Not matter how hard AFO tried to make a monster out of Tomura, we see how people keep reaching for him seeking comfort or even seeking a better future. For some reason, Tomura generates love in the hearts of those closer to him. Magne, Twice, Giran, Kurogiri, Mr. Compress, all of them gave beautiful speechs of love and acceptance, of protecting the people they like, of working towards a better future. Nao ran towards her son, Hana apologized for leaving him while being scared.

Or if you like, let me give you the maximum example: Deku changed drastically his hero path after witnessing himself who exactly was the real Tomura Shigaraki.

The reason why Deku looks like a villain on the last chapters is because there's a war inside of him– and also because it's the closes he has ever been to understanding the villains, by being on their shoes. While peeking through Tomura's mind Deku finally realized the reality of the hero society condition, and Deku is currently on a painful progress of growing, along with going through a phase of being an outcast and a rejected kid himself. Like a child exposed to war, or like a child getting more mature after a big trauma, Deku is reshaping himself in the light of what he knows now but didn't know before. Living on the streets, not eating enough, having people wanting to put you aside so you wouldn't alter their safety or peace, being painted as a problem or an object or a weapon rather than being seen as a human being in need of help...

While AFO's plan was to make Tomura suffer to increase his hate, he couldn't predict that Tomura would be the one to inspire Deku to love in a way he has never love before. Tomura's breaking point was also the breaking point for Deku, but while Tomura dives into the darkness, Deku fights his way over the stormy clouds to reach for the light.

Ultimately, everything surrounding Tomura is exactly what allows MHA / BNHA to be the story of how Deku became the greatest hero out there. The fact that Tomura refused to give up, refused to be who everyone wanted to be... even if he fails again and again, what counts here is that he is unbreakable. Even in the deep of his conscious, he awaits for another chance. Deku and Tomura are the ones who surpassed any limits, any expectations, in order to produce a real change in the roots of society itself.

So you can say that in parallel with Deku, (and there are some interesting implications in this one), Tomura hasn't been defeated by the rain either. Like two sides of the same coin, either they drown together or rise together.

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welldonebeca · 2 years

Text

The Wolf Way (II)

Summary: Now engaged, the wolves and their bunnies want to make it official so they have to go to their girl’s hometown to make this four-way wedding happen. When their ruts arrive mid-vacation and just a day after their youngest kids are born, their stay in bunny town has to be extended. WC: 2k Warnings: Dirty thoughts, tension, fluff.

Masterlist

Sam stretched his arms as he woke up from his nap, and grimaced when he realized he was just accompanied by Dean, and the girls weren't yet back.

He fished for his phone, finding it charging right by his side, and groaned when he read Dittie's text informing him of his wife and girlfriend - it was so weird to say that. Thea was his girlfriend. And not his wife yet. It was so annoying -, were whisked away to by their father for some duty he didn't quite understand.

He stood on his feet, grunting, knowing he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep with Dean's snoring, and moved to their bags, knowing it was best to just unpack.

Sam stopped surprised, however, when he heard a knock by their door.

"Just a minute," he grunted, and left their stuff aside, still rubbing his eye as he walked to see who it was.

The moment he opened the door, he frowned. It was... Artemis? Alicia?

He could barely remember all the names, and he was too tired, honestly.

"Good evening!" she exclaimed, sounding far too excited, and raised a tray. "I brought you a snack."

Sam blinked a bit, and yawned as he recognised the cut-up fruits.

"Thank you," he spoke slowly. "Uh..."

"Ariel," she told him quickly, smiling largely, and moved her fingers to twirl her hair when he picked the tray from her hands.

He nodded, and waited for her to leave, but the little bunny - who looked a lot like the girls, now that he was looking at her for real - bit her lower lip.

"May I come in?" she offered. "I wanna know if you liked it."

Sam blinked a little confused, looking at the fruit. It was all cut in cute shapes, hearts, circles, stars and... bunny ears? Okay.

"Uh..." he looked for words.

Was that a custom? He should respect their customs and traditions, right?

"Sure," he stepped back. "Sit anywhere, I'll just brush my teeth."

The bedroom was very big, and it had a window seat that he certainly would try to find so that they could put in their new house - there was no way they were going to survive much longer with five kids and four adults in a house as small as theirs - and she chose to sit there, looking around very happily as he walked to the bathroom.

Fuck, he was so damn tense. He could feel the knots in his muscles here and now. Damn, the driving really had done a number on him.

Ariel giggled at his greeting, holding the bowl of fruit he had placed over the desk.

"I've never seen a wolf before," she announced, looking excited. "You're so big."

Sam blinked in surprise.

"Thank you?' he answered, unsure of what to say.

She looked positively enchanted, giggling again.

"You know, our mamas used to always warn us about wolves like you," Ariel told him.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded. "Mama Cris was always teasing me, Thea and Dittie."

Sam blinked, a little confused.

"Only you three?" he asked.

Ariel shrugged.

"We are her only three," she exclaimed. "I mean, she is everyone's mama, but we are the only one who... you know... came out of her."

He nodded slowly. Oh, then that was why she looked so much like them!

"You know, it is kind of funny over at our home," he glanced at Dean. "Regardless of the mum, the genetics are the same. It's the fun part of dating twins, I guess."

Ariel pouted.

"Papa Blue still thinks I'm not ready to head out," she rolled her eyes, groaning. "Which is stupid, cause I know what I'm doing. I'm ready!"

Sam moved awkwardly on his feet.

"I'm sure he knows what he is doing," he assured her, trying to look for good advice. "You are still young. You have all the time of your life. It's good to wait before having some experiences."

He walked to her, and picked the bowl with the fruit, hoping the subject had died, but Ariel wasn't done.

"Thea and Dittie have only been gone for a few years and this is the second time they are pregnant!" she whined and touched her lower belly, rubbing on it. "I know I could be a good mama."

Sam felt himself nearly choking on a piece of strawberry, trying hard not to imagine what it would be like. Fuck, Ariel was probably a virgin. When they met, the girls already had their own experiences.

He stepped back quickly when he felt his cock wake up, quickly moving his thoughts away.

Nope. He already had two bunnies, he had no need for a third one.

"You know," she glanced at his crotch, and he quickly lowered the bowl, trying to hide his traitor body. "I haven't even had a boyfriend yet. I just want the first guy I meet to be the one who wants to mate with me for life."

Sam gulped again, trying to take his mind away from it, trying not to imagine himself as that guy. He loved his wives and wasn't interested in a third one. But fuck, she smelt so good... It was like the first he had smelt Dittie and Thea, the smell of an unmated Omega bunny.

"You should go," he spoke quickly.

Yes, yes, that was a good idea.

"We need to unpack and shower," Sam explained. "Thank you for the snack."

Ariel stood up, but instead of leaving, she simply moved closer to him and took the bowl from his hands, putting it aside.

"It could be you," she offered, perking her small chest, and he sucked in a breath through his mouth when he realised she wasn't wearing a bra, and they were nearly out of her top.

Ariel jumped and grabbed his shoulders, and Sam was quick to move his head back before she could.

"No," he pushed her away, stepping back, trying to put distance between the two of them. "Ariel, I'm married."

"Come on," she whined. "It's no big deal!"

Sam shook his head.

"It is a big deal!" he protested. "It is a big deal to me."

Ariel scoffed.

"You are an Alpha!" she rolled her eyes. "You should want another Omega, especially now that Dittie and Thea are huge and fat!"

Sam's mouth fell open in shock.

"What?" he repeated.

"I'm hot and a virgin!" she insisted.

He saw red, now infuriated, and grabbed her arm, lifting her up and practically carrying her as he walked out.

"Your father is right," he grunted. "You are immature and a fucking brat."

"What's happening?" Dean asked, and he looked back, realizing his brother had gotten up.

"Ariel here decided to seduce us," he turned to him, angered.

His brother looked surprised, a little impressed, and Sam scoffed.

"Seduce us?" he repeated.

"Apparently, we need another Omega now that our wives are huge and fat."

Any amusement that had been on his brother's face faded, and Dean stared at her with pure anger.

Ariel squirmed, trying to get out of his grip.

"Dean, he is overreacting," she tried to argue.

None of them answered, and she chuckled.

"What are you gonna do?" she insisted. "Punish me?"

Sam watched as she batted her eyelashes and pouted, trying, though not hard, to act as if that wasn't exactly what she wanted.

"Us?" Dean asked. "No. But I know of someone who will."

Her eyes widened, but she didn't have time to say anything as Sam dragged her out of the room, stepped to the living room and stopped once he found Papa Blue sitting on the couch with Dittie and Thea.

Ariel whined, and he put her down in front of him.

"Your daughter came into our room to try and seduce us," he told Blue. "And offended our wives in the process."

Thea and Dittie rolled their eyes, and Papa Blue looked at Ariel with a disappointed and angry look on his face.

"Ariel!" he spoke, far too calm. "Why did you do that?"

"Because that is what she always does," Thea scoffed. "She steals and ruins our clothes, breaks our perfume bottles, plays with our makeup... and nothing ever happens."

He looked at her, surprised, and Dittie pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Oh, yeah, she was early this time," she sighed. "I still remember her rubbing herself on... what's his name, Thea? Your first boyfriend?"

Ariel squirmed, ready to dash out, but Dean kept her in place.

"I don't remember his name anymore," Thea scoffed. "But it was ridiculous. He was so embarrassed."

Sam turned his gaze to Papa Blue, who didn't look any happy.

"You have to do something about this," Dean insisted to him.

Blue sighed.

"Ariel, you are going to spend the rest of their stay here working in the gardens," he told her. "When they leave, we will find you a good job that will build you some character."

She started whining, and Sam pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"Sam, Dean," his father-in-law looked at them. "I deeply apologize for my daughter's behaviour."

"It's not fair!" Ariel protested in a shout.

Everyone's eyes turned to her.

"We have to fight to keep a bunch of tiny babies alive," she protested. "And they go out and have three babies that are literally double the size of the biggest baby we ever had in our family!"

Sam looked at her, surprised.

"I just wanna have big babies too! I wanna have good babies! I want good genes too!"

He blinked, completely confused, and Blue's face hardened.

"I don't want to hear another word of it," he told his youngest. "Now go before I make your punishment worse."

Ariel stormed out, and Papa Blue looked at them with heavy embarrassment on his face.

"What was that?" Dean asked.

Sam was ready to correct him, to remind him that the two of them were outsiders and shouldn't ask questions.

"We have a 50/50 child mortality rate here," Thea confessed.

Both him and Dean looked at her explanation.

"We actually lost a lot of siblings," she told him. "And... well, what can I say? It hurts and we don't know a lot about why it happens."

"There is a team studying this situation," Blue told them. "It's why we kind of stopped having kids after Ariel. We lost four children who were born that same week and she was the only one left."

Sam's shoulders fell in a little bit of defeat.

He still remembered how the girls were always hovering over the pups, never leaving them alone. It was the reason they never spent the night in the nursery and only napped there, the reason they were never out of their sight until their 1st birthday. There was always an air around the girls, as if they were waiting for something bad to happen.

And it never did, of course.

"We didn't know," his brother whispered.

"Well, what is losing fifty kids when you already have another fifty?" Blue asked, looking like he was trying not to show his pain.

Fifty. Fifty kids.

Sam was terrified of losing any of his children. He couldn't imagine not having the twin and Mary around.

"We didn't think you two would understand," Dittie sighed.

He knelt in front of them with Dean by his side, and they all fell into a tight group hug.

"I'll go check on Ariel," their father announced.

The girls scoffed, and Sam chuckled.

"Don't act like you aren't that bratty too," he squeezed their thighs playfully. "We all know how you get when you can't have something you want."

They both raised identical eyebrows at them.

"What, do you two want to spend the next week in the gardens too?" Thea asked.

They gulped, shutting up, and the girls giggled.

"Dinner is almost ready," Dittie told them. "Come one, you can help set the table. It is work for four people."

Sam followed them as they walked to the kitchen, a little relieved, but still bothered. The itch was still there, he didn't understand why, but he knew something was about to happen.,

. . .

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abimess · 3 years

Text

It only takes the holidays // Chapter 10

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Masterlist || Upcoming Stories

Summary: Life happens and things change, but it seems like some feelings stay the same. After ten years, Wanda finally comes back to her hometown to spend the holidays with her family, what also means seeing you again. What will come out of this encounter? [2.612 || 20.580]

Warnings: angst, death, grief, alcohol, swearing, mention of sex (not smut), fluff

Note: Texts in italics are memories.

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)

All chapters I Chapter 9 | Masterlist | Library Blog (Read on: Wattpad | AO3)

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Chapter 10 – It only takes a Christmas gift

You, Wanda and Pietro are walking around town with both of your mothers right behind you. It’s Christmas, and you love Christmas. In fact, if you could ask Santa for anything, it would be to make Christmas be every day.

You wanted to buy a perfect gift for your sister but your mother giggled, saying she would only be born on late June and you feel sad about having to wait for the next Christmas.

Eventually Wanda pulls you by the hand, wanting to show you something and your jaw drops when you see what it is. It’s a small store crowded with snow globe from all colors, sizes and shapes. You ask your mothers to let you go see and you walk happily when they do.

You and the twins walk around the store trying to figure out which one of the snow globes is your favorite when you spot a large table filled with big snow globes. They’re probably the size of your head and, instead of small houses and little dolls, they had cities inside.

You look attentively at each one of them, reading the names with difficulty. When you get to the last one you frown and look at your mother.

- Why is there none with our town?

- They only make them for the capitals, sweetie. – Your mother explains with a tender smile and you nod sadly, not knowing what capitals really mean.

Wanda holds your hand trying to make you feel better and starts to show you her favorite snow globes in an attempt to distract you. And it works.

You wake up feeling happy today. The hickeys are not gone but they are way more faded now so you allow yourself to wear the Christmas sweater your mother made you.

You walk down to the kitchen singing loudly your favorite Christmas song causing your sister and your mother to chuckle. They sing along as you finish preparing breakfast.

Your mother was not one for Christmas presents, saying you should never forget the real meaning of it. But she always made you sweaters anyway and when you give her the gardening kit you bought her, she looks very pleased.

Your sister gives you a small horse toy and you smile when you notice it’s just like Daisy. You admire the little details of it and hug your sister tightly in appreciation for the gift. You then hand her your gift and she assumes an astonish expression when she realizes what it is. She admires the new camera with a huge smile on her face and then hugs you multiple times, making you giggle.

You notice your mother’s gaze on you. She has a caring smile on her face but her brows are frowned just the slightest. You shrug saying that you had good sales this year and that your sister deserves it.

Your sister puts on some Christmas songs and you hum along while you clean the kitchen. Not short after, you hear a knock on the door. You go to open it and smile surprised when you see who it is.

- Good morning, neighbor. – He says with a tender smile.

- Pietro! What are you doing here?

- I came to give you your gift.

You frown and he tilts his head for you to follow him. When he opens the trunk your jaw drops. He hands you the saddle and you take it, admiring every detail.

It is made of quilted leather and has a dark brown tone that matches Daisy’s mane perfectly. On the bottom of it you can see perfect drawings of little horses.

- I remembered you mentioning a few months ago yours was getting old. – Pietro says with a proud expression as he notices your silly smile. You finally take your eyes off of the saddle and looks at him tenderly.

- Oh, man, thank you. I really loved it. You shouldn’t have, though. And there was no need for you to come all the way here as well.

- That’s okay, I have to go to town anyway. To get some stuff for dinner, you know? You guys are coming, right?

- Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

It’s the first time since your father died that you wouldn’t spend Christmas only with your mom and sister. You’re excited but a little nervous as well.

You invite him over to the stable so you can try the saddle on Daisy and he accompanies you. You caress her mane before putting the saddle on her back and when you mount you smile at how comfortable it is. You store the saddle, replacing the old one, and Pietro giggles at your excessive care with the gift.

Before you walk Pietro back to his car you go inside the house saying that you had a gift for him as well. You hand him the package and his eyes shine when he opens it. He smiles widely as he admires the running shoes and you giggle. Since he was a kid, Pietro loves running and you knew pretty well that he would always love anything related to that. He hugs you tightly as he thanks you.

- Wanda got you something too, you know? – He says when you stop beside his car. You nod and mumble something shyly, feeling your cheeks heat up. - I keep asking what it is but she won’t tell me.

- I can’t imagine why. – You joke and he giggles. Pietro has always been terrible at keeping secrets. He nods and assumes a playful expression that was so characteristic of him.

- So I started creating some theories. I had a pretty solid one but then I found out she already gave it to you a few nights ago.

- Pietro! – You say loudly pushing him on the shoulder and he laughs. You put your hands on your pockets as you feel your entire face burning up. - Get out of my property.

He laughs again and hugs you, saying his goodbyes. When he leaves, you walk back inside with a shy smile and rose cheeks.

-----

You were watching a movie with your sister after lunch when you hear police sirens outside of your house. You chuckle as you get up.

- You’re full of visits today. – Your sister remarks.

- That or I’m getting arrested. – You retorts and she giggles.

When you walk outside, the sirens are already off and Nat is waiting for you with a smile as she leans against the car.

- Morning, cowhand.

- How can I help you, officer? – You ask in the same playful tone as you approach her.

- Giving me a hug would be a good start. – You do as she told you and you two mumble your merry Christmas to one another. - I just wanted to give you your gift. I’d do it at dinner tonight but I didn’t get presents for everyone.

- So I am your favorite. – You say as you watch Natasha gets a package from the passenger seat.

- Don’t get so full of yourself. – She retorts with a smirk, handing you the package, and you chuckle as soon as you see what it is.

- I thought you hated my hat.

- Trust me, I do. But you keep using it anyway, so I figured it would be better for both of us if you had a better looking one.

You put on the hat and smiles when it fits your head perfectly. You look at her with raised eyebrows asking her to say something and she smirks.

- Awful. – She declares and you giggle.

- I have something for you, too. Wait here.

You rush back inside to get the small package and when you come back, Nat watches you approach with a curious smile. You hand her the gift and she giggles, shaking her head slowly as she sees what it is. It’s one of those shaking toys that you put on the car. It’s a doughnut wearing a police officer uniform.

- You know, I really hate you sometimes. – She says with a smile and you chuckle.

You say your goodbyes and you watch as she enters the car. Before she leaves, you see her carefully placing the toy on the dashboard and you smile.

-----

As you walk inside the Maximoffs house, you can’t help but to be overwhelmed by all the best sensations in the world. Enjoying your time surrounded by the people you love, listening to music you like as the scent of delicious food invade your senses.

Eventually, you ask Wanda to talk to her in private and she takes you to her bedroom. You smile when you see the room is exactly the way you remember it. And you blush when you see the pictures on the wall and notice you’re in almost all of them.

When you hear the noise of Wanda closing the door, you turn to face her.

- I got you gift. – You say, looking for something on the inner pocket of your jacket and Wanda smiles, spinning the rings on her fingers shyly.

You hand her the small velvet black box. Wanda opens it with curious eyes and your hands shake in anticipation. She takes the locket necklace on her hands with a tender smile and gently places the box on her bed. When she opens the locker she chuckles lightly with watery eyes as the memory floods in.

On the small picture she could see you, her, Pietro and Snoopy, the four of you wearing Santa hats. It was right before winter break and your friends had decided to exchange Christmas cards and the three of you wanted a perfect picture.

- Do you remember how hard it was to put that hat on Snoopy? – She asks with a nostalgic smile, her eyes still watery.

- How could I forget? It took us almost forty minutes. – You remark and you both chuckle.

- Thank you, (Y/n/n), I loved it. – You nod shyly and Wanda holds your face gently, connecting your lips in a soft, salty kiss. When you parted she looks at you with a soft smile. – Will you help me put it on?

You nod and she hands you the necklace, turning her back to you right after. As you remove her hair exposing her neck, Wanda feels her skin tingling on the places you touched her. When you’re done, you place a soft kiss on the back of her neck and she shrinks just a little, causing you to giggle. She turns to face you and kisses you again, longer and more intensely this time.

- I have something for you too.

She walks to her wardrobe and takes a box from inside of it. It has about ten inches and when Wanda hands it to you, you’re surprised by how heavy it is. Wanda looks at you biting her lip in an excited smile, encouraging you to open.

Your jaw drops in the same moment you see what’s inside. You look completely astonished at the snow globe in your hands.

- H-how… - You try to formulated a sentence, but no words come out of your mouth. Wanda starts to play with her rings again.

- I remembered that day when we were kids. The day we saw that snow globes store? – You shift your gaze to her and nod, tears forming in your own eyes now. Of course you remember it. - I remembered how you wanted one with our town in it. It took a while but I found a place that makes this customized snow globes and…

You carefully place the gift on her bed and rushes to hug her tightly, interrupting Wanda’s explanation. She wraps her arms around your waist, caressing your back with your fingers.

- I love you.

The words slip from your mouth before you can stop them and Wanda froze. You clumsily step away from her. Avoiding her gaze, you start to mumble your apologies but Wanda walks towards you, pulling you by the neck and kissing you passionately.

- I love you too. – She whispers breathlessly, resting your foreheads together. You smile, but before you can say anything else a knock on the door startle the two of you. When you look at it you see Pietro popping his head in, a smirk on his lips.

- This is not very Christmassy, you know? – He jokes and Wanda rolls her eyes blushing. He then tells you the dinner will be served and Wanda says you’re coming.

She looks back at you with a bright smile, offering her hand for you to take and you smile back as you do. The two of you go back down and Wanda just lets go of your hand when it’s extremely necessary.

-----

It’s been a few days after Christmas and your friends already had the entire New Year’s party planned out. You usually made an excuse not to go or to just stop by, but this time was different. This time Wanda would be there and you couldn’t wait to spend the night with her.

You knock on the door and soon Iryna comes to greet you with a happy smile on her face. She invites you in and you see Wanda facetiming someone. She smiles and waves her hand when she sees you and you shyly wait next to the door.

She’s talking to a woman you don’t know about something involving a party, New York and famous people but you don’t really get what’s going on. You try to ignore the bitter feeling on your mouth when the woman says she would be seeing Wanda soon.

When the conversation ends, Wanda makes her way towards you and hugs you tightly. The hug lasts longer then it usually does and when Wanda steps back she has an apprehensive look on her face. You feel a weird feeling forming on your stomach and you swallow dryly.

- Is everything okay?

- Yeah I just… - It seems like she’s looking for the best way to tell you whatever it is that she’s about to say and the weird feeling on your stomach only grows. – I was invited to this party… It’s a Hollywood event, actually. It’s a big deal. It might be the most important New Year’s party there is, actually. – Her last words cut deep and you have to take a step back.

- Wow, you should go then. If it’s the most important party you were invited to. – You retort harshly and Wanda frowns in a hurt expression.

- Come on, (Y/n), don’t do this. That’s not what I meant.

- When are you going? – You interrupt her, trying to control your breathing. It’s getting harder and harder to keep it together as the world seems to start to spin around you.

- Tomorrow. – Her voice sounds almost like a whisper. There are tears forming on her eyes but you ignore them.

- Well, congratulations, then. You deserve it. – You say, avoiding her gaze at all costs. You feel like you’re about to lose it so you mumble your goodbyes, not even remembering why you were there in the first place.

Before she could say anything else you turn around and walk away. You think you hear her calling your name, but the noise on your ears is too loud and you’re not sure. But you wouldn’t turn anyway. You need to get out of here immediately.

You walk fast back to your truck and slams the door when you enter. Nothing has changed.

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And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ

Chapter 11

So we have reached the penultimate chapter of our story, I hope you are enjoying it. Will R and Wanda finally work things out or will they go back to the way they were before? 👀 Let me know your thoughts

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tempenensis · 4 years

Text

philosophy of “moving forward”

Human civilization as a whole is something that always changing. Culture as part of civilization construct adapts and evolves together with human who creates it. In the evolution of ancient to modern culture, believe in myth and words of mouth on the nature of unknown things changes gradually to studying them using science; in this science is the driving force of culture change and the old believe is the opposing force.

A subtle theme that slowly surfacing is the clash of old tradition to the new, more progressive thinking. Old tradition and rules are opposed and changes are happening gradually - and while it’s been bubbling for long, it's now culminated in one controversial life of Itadori Yuuji.

the old and rotting : the Great Three Families

One of main undertones during student fights in the Kyoto exchange goodwill arc is how old jujutsu tradition underlined to be contrasting with the more modern principles most Tokyo students follows. This especially prominent in the fights of Momo vs Kugisaki and Fushiguro vs Kamo, and secondary drive in Maki vs Mai.

In one of elite jujutsushi bloodline, the Zen’in family, perfection is a must. “Possessing inherited curse technique of Zen’in family”. Other than that, they are failure in starting life as jutsushi. Even among them, women are not allowed to stand in the starting line.

Looking at these alone, it implies on how old tradition put manifesting inherited technique among anything else and especially the discrimination towards women. It reflects the view in our real history, where women used to be banned from doing works and jobs considered masculine -- a view that has largely abandoned since women rights to be in the same level with men gained approval worldwide.

Momo’s saying this to Kugisaki is not wrong per se, since she herself probably experiences this; emphasizing Kugisaki’s naivety to old tradition that a lot of jujutsushi still largely follow. Kugisaki herself is also not in the wrong; she’s someone who puts her ego over everything - she has her own individualistic view that keeps her apart as her own person.

Another view of old tradition is the bloodline over everything else. It’s understandable if you consider the way they prized inherited technique over everything. To ensure that the inherited technique can manifest along the bloodline, one of the way is to keep the bloodline ‘pure’, to say. That’s why marriage among blood relation is probably the norm, even though the only clue of this is Naoya in the latest chapter, who considers which one of the twin is “good”, further emphasizing how little women is respected in this household.

Ironically in bloodline with a lot of inbreeding, it’s not the strength that is accumulated, but rather the weakness. For example, in Habsburg dynasty who used to rule Europe in the past, their long history of inbreeding caused their offspring to manifest a lot of genetic disorder - one of which is a physical disability named as their own, Habsburg jaw. Charles II of Spain was the most famous example of this. As a result of inbreeding along the Habsburg bloodline, Charles II inherited a lot of genetic disorders including the Habsburg jaw. He was even know as “the Bewitched” because of his appearance.

In line with this are Kamo Noritoshi and Fushiguro Megumi, who were born not out of inbreeding, but possessing the inherited technique of their respective clan. Noritoshi manifests Blood manipulation technique despite being a mistress’s son. While we don’t know Megumi’s mom, it is implied that she was a normal person since Touji had left the Zen’in and would be hard-pressed if he was to marry a woman from the same bloodline since he hated the clan. And I would not be surprised if Satoru is revealed actually to be a mistress son too in the future.

As if to condemn this believe, Heavenly Restriction sometimes manifest in these clan. Touji and Maki are bound with restriction of having reduced curse energy in exchange of superhuman strength. If you think about it, superhuman strength is actually way more effective weapon to be used in exorcising curse than innate curse technique that is usually simpler and weaker. All they need is some cursed tools to use. But of course, old tradition condemns them since barehanded, both Touji and Maki can’t exorcise curses.

Women being lesser than men, bloodline purity and inherited technique obsession, twins being bad omen, and the heavenly restriction being a viewed as a curse rather than a gift -- all of the believe that composed the old tradition is actually more harmful for the jujutsushi society as a whole. Theirs is an industry who is always chronically short-handed, so you would think that if there are more people available to do the job is better. But they don’t think so just because of outdated tradition. And Zenin Naoya is created as the poster child of it. He embodies everything old that Gojo Satoru discards and loathes.

education as driving force : Kyoto vs Tokyo

Back in vol 0, Getou calls Kyoto to be holy land of jujutsu and Shinjuku, Tokyo to be crucible of curses, where large number of curses can be found.

If we look over the history of these two places, it’s quite reasonable. Kyoto used to be the old capital of Japan, used to be named Heian. As we know, Heian period when Kyoto was designated as Japan capital is known as jujutsu golden age, when jujutsu developed rapidly, curses ran amok, and Sukuna trumped over everyone as the King of curses. We still don’t know where each of Great Families (Osanke) designated locations, but as the remaining of old capital, it is actually not surprising if the Osanke is located mainly in Kyoto, especially the Zen’in and Kamo. This also implies in Naoya speaking Kansai dialect and how Kyoto school shaped.

The influence of old tradition is prominent in Kyoto Jujutsu school. First, most of the students are somehow connected to jujutsu families. Noritoshi is Kamo clan’s heir. Mai is one of the Zen’in. Momo with her way of speaking seems also to be raised in a jujutsu family. Kokichi has Heavenly restriction which we know is inherited among children of jujutsu clan. Other than them, Toudou and Miwa seem to be not from jujutsu clan, but they are probably admitted because of influence of their mentors - and the two of them have different mindset compared to the rest of the students.

Second, when the Kyoto principal asked the students to kill Yuuji during exchange meetings, the four agreed to it readily since that’s how their custom dictates. Todo did not like that idea and Miwa is reluctant, but she still goes along. However she then apologizes to Tokyo students via Maki.

Contrasting to Kyoto school, the Tokyo school is a bit departed from old jujutsu custom. Most of the students are not affiliated with jujutsu families. Maki and Megumi does have Zen’in blood, but the two of them hate the clan and everything it represents. We still have not much information on Toge and Inumaki clan in general. This also applies to students in previous generation too. Nanami, Haibara, Getou; the three of them are not from jujutsu families. Gojou is from one of the Osanke, but he loathes their custom and tradition, which might be his main motivation to go to Tokyo school. Other than them, we still don’t know about Mei Mei, Shoko, and Utahime.

If I have to name one main characteristics that drive Tokyo school foundation is that they learn. Different from Kyoto whose philosophy influenced largely by traditional value set in stone, Tokyo school learns from mistake, learns how the era changes, learns how jujutsu changes so that they can be more humane, then develops to be an unique entity. This is largely due to Yaga’s influence.

But because of him (Itadori), there are certainly lives that was saved. In fact this time he cooperates with Todo to drive away the special-grade (curse spirit). This is not limited on the students, but after this they will accumulate a lot of regrets. Aah, I should have done that, I wanted it to be like this. Aah, I should have said it, I wanted to say it.

Whether the decision regarding Itadori is correct, truthfully I don’t know. But for now, how about we watch over him?

Yaga Masamichi is one great educator. Rather than binding them to the existing tradition, he let the students have their own view and act responsibly. This is the wisdom that build the foundation and general philosophy of Tokyo school. And his view influence Gojo, who used to be his student, in teaching the new generation. For example this; when he asks of Megumi’s opinion of what they should do with Yuuji. And because of it, they bends an existing law to let Yuuji alive; a very blatant opposition to old custom.

In addition, Gojo rather tends and teaches the new generation despite wants to kill the upper management; this might also largely because of Yaga’s influence. The two of them accumulate the same regret from the incident that makes Getou to stray and learn from it -- and that regret is what shapes the learning and teaching in Tokyo school in the current time.

While the two seemingly cut from the same clothes, Tokyo school can afford to be different from their Kyoto counterpart in their teaching because of several things. First is their location. As the capital was moved from Kyoto to Tokyo, Tokyo’s population grows. More human means more negative emotion, meaning the curses also evolved to be stronger. The reason why Getou called Shinjuku the crucible of curses is because Shinjuku is red-light district, where negative emotion is probably the strongest, making curses found there also stronger than any other place. As their enemy grows stronger, jujutsushi themselves also needs to be stronger than them to be able to exorcise them. In addition, the school is where Master Tengen planted his root so to speak, and they also need the strength to protect him too. They can’t afford old tradition to weaken and hold them back, so the Tokyo jujutsushi’s thinking start to depart from old custom. The second reason is because of Gojo; that in itself is self-explanatory.

All in all, education as a whole system is not only designed to merely giving knowledge, but also to give the young the necessities so they can develop into a proper member of society. Good education system adapts to the current era and relevant view on the development of society. In the real world, modern society aligns largely with science, so science and its philosophy are integrated as fundamental parts of modern education system. And character building is also important as part of the system -- for example being critical, to be curious and question things, is an important traits to have because human curiosity is what makes us study things we don’t understand and makes science develops in the first place -- subsequently modernize human society as a whole.

But of course, it’s all not without repercussion. Since old tradition still prevails and holds tightly by the authority, it’s no wonder that Tokyo school is now facing difficulty after the chaos that is Shibuya.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk meta #brain vomit #jjk manga spoilers

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demonsandco · 3 years

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Okay okay we know with their demon forms it requires a lot of upkeep now what do you think they would do and what they need help with. Cause what comes to mind is a family grooming session 😊

I love this ask thank youuuu. I wasn't sure if you wanted their canon forms, but this is mostly based on my own personal headcanons for their demon forms! I hope you don’t mind that :) It would be much easier for them to handle their insane forms, but what's the fun in that?

Before I start, all demon horns need constant maintenance. Demon horns never actually stop growing, so routine sanding, usually with a custom shaped whetstone, is important to keep horns smooth and to keep them from getting too long. Without proper care, horns can easily become overgrown and asymmetrical, as well as gain a rough, dry and almost scaly texture, which is rather uncomfortable for the demon in question

All other forms of upkeep vary from demon to demon, depending on what features they have (ei. scales, feathers, fur, hair, etc.).

Lucifer

Lucifer's horns are rather easy to reach, curling forward along the sides of his head, so it's fairly simple for him to keep them maintained himself. It's something that he does often, especially because neglecting them could easily impact his image. After all, it's common to see him bring out his demon form to intimidate others, and he wants to make sure he looks well put together. Caring for his horns is not much different than shaving his face in the morning, nothing more than a quick and simple part of his routine.

The thing that actually gives Lucifer trouble is his wings and tail. General self care is something he can handle easily, but feathers naturally wear down and need to be replaced, which means molting. Molting leaves him feeling absolutely miserable. His entire back starts looking patchy and he feels itchy and irritated all over, but he can never seem to properly reach the areas giving him trouble himself. His pride tends to get in the way of asking for help, so he's often left to suffer through it until the new feathers finish growing in.

Lucifer would need to trust someone quite a bit in order to let them help, but it's always a huge relief to have that itchiness soothed by a caring hand. Most often, Mammon ends up being the one to help out. Not only is the second born the only other one who still has feathers, but he's also very skilled at reading Lucifer's moods and telling when he needs help. They never speak about it afterwards, but it's a much needed binding experience for both of them.

(The rest are under the cut)

Mammon

Being a model, Mammon takes very good care of his appearance. Unfortunately, no matter how many times he does it, his horns always give him an insane amount of trouble. They're very tightly coiled and rest at a slightly backwards angle, making it difficult for Mammon to reach the inside parts of his horns. It's not uncommon to see him sulking his way over to Asmodeus' room for help with those hard to reach areas, after spending hours trying to do it himself and failing.

Other than his horns, Mammon has it pretty easy. Like Lucifer, he has to deal with molting, but it never seems to last too long for him, much to the eldest's envy. His wings are also featherless, so molting is nowhere near as uncomfortable for him. The only big feathers he needs to worry about replacing are the ones on his tail. The rest are much smaller and less irritating to regrow.

His wings and other featherless areas do need extra care, though, in the form of moisturizing. Without protection from feathers, those areas get dry and cracked easily, especially if he goes flying. To deal with it, he's got a pretty big collection of scented moisturizing lotions and oils that he can pick from, most of which were gifts from Asmodeus, since they have similar wings.

Leviathan

Levi's demon form is rather unique compared to his brothers. Instead of having true horns, he has antlers. Rather than needing constant care, his horns grow to their full size, shed their outer layer of skin and then eventually fall off to start the process again. Levi often goes to the ocean to isolate himself when his horns are ready to fall. He usually lets them sink to the bottom, where they take the form of the devildom equivalent of coral, providing shelter for aquatic life.

On top of shedding his horns, he also sheds his skin. His sheds are entirely determined by his horns, happening once when the antlers are full grown and ready to lose their protective, velvety skin, and again later on when they're ready to fall. While his antlers' life cycle is reminiscent of a deer's, the shedding of his skin is very similar to a snake's shed. It's not hard to tell when Levi is close to shedding. The old skin begins to separate itself from his new scales, giving him a dull gray sheen over his body and his eyes begin to look dull and glazed over.

It's definitely not a pleasant feeling and he can't see very well through the skin either, so he tends to avoid his brothers. High humidity is also needed for him to shed properly, so if he can't go hide out at sea, Levi's going to lock himself in his room and soak miserably in his bathtub.

Satan

Satan's self care routine isn't too difficult, but it's definitely the most time consuming and he absolutely hates it. He's not the most patient demon, especially when it comes to tasks that he thinks are wasting his time. When it's time for him to maintain his more demonic features, Satan needs to put aside an entire day for it.

Satan's horns are easy enough for him to handle. The inside part of the sharp curve of them often gives him some trouble, but he's nothing if not stubborn, so he usually manages to sort it out on his own. Horns on their own are rather time-consuming to care for, but what really takes up all of Satan's time is the multiple other horn-like protrusions along his body, as well as his tail. He's got boney spikes in the areas that his bones are closer to the skin (elbows, spine, ribs, jaw, etc.) and, like regular horns, they're constantly growing.

Whether he likes it or not, he always ends up needing to ask someone for help, and that someone usually ends up being Asmo. Not only is the process tedious, but he also has a very hard time reaching the spines on his back properly, so a helping hand is very useful.

Asmodeus

Unsurprisingly, Asmo has a very in depth routine that he follows to a t. Every week, he sets aside an evening to take care of his horns and wings specifically, sanding down his horns to keep them smooth and shiny, and moisturizing his wings with oils and lotions to keep the skin supple and soft. Being related to scorpions, Asmo also has a carapace in his true form that resembles the exoskeleton of actual scorpions. It doesn't need much extra care, but he always makes sure to keep it bright and polished.

The downside to his carapace is that it can't actually heal unless Asmo molts and completely replaces it. He's not the biggest fan of molting, but he'll force himself to molt early if he gets scratched or hurt in any way. He can't stand the thought of any part of him looking dull or banged up.

Overall, though, Asmo definitely has his self care handled perfectly. He's also very particular about how things are done, so he's very hesitant to let anyone else do it for him. He does, however, love helping his brothers out with grooming and self care. Especially the ones that he knows are likely to neglect themselves without a proper push.

Beelzebub

Beel's self care leaves much to be desired. He's completely horrible at taking care of his demonic attributes, but he often forgets about it or runs out of time. It's not uncommon for his horns to be rough and chipped or for his insect-like carapace to look dull and roughed up, especially with how aggressive his sports matches can get. Between school, working out, fangol and his constant hunger, regular upkeep gets put on the backburner.

Luckily, Beel and his twin often partake in allogrooming! They both find it easier to take care of each other, rather than themselves. This is especially helpful when it comes to Beel's horns. They curve so tightly along the sides of his head that he can't actually fit his hands between the horns and his skin to smooth them out. Belphie, on the other hand, has much smaller hands and can easily reach around and sand them down, while Beel takes care of him in turn. They rarely talk during these moments, but it serves as good bonding time for the two of them.

Beel's carapace is something he can handle himself, mostly because it doesn't really require anything. Like Asmo's, the only way for his carapace to "heal" is for him to molt and replace it, which he puts off for as long as possible. It's thick and hardy and since he doesn't put much stock in looking perfectly put together, he doesn't worry about it all that much. Whenever he does feel the need to molt, it goes by pretty quickly and he's back to his regular schedule in no time.

Belphegor

Belphie is honestly the worst at taking care of himself. Not because he doesn't care, but because he has such a hard time gathering up enough motivation to even get up in the mornings, much less put in the effort to look nice. If no one steps in, he can go days at a time without brushing just the hair on his head. Even on the days that he does that much, chances are that he didn't bother brushing the rest of his fur, too. After all, if he just doesn't show off his demon form, then no one will notice right?

Luckily for him, Beel does notice when his twin hasn't been caring for himself. While the rest of the brothers only need to worry about their demon forms every other week or even just once a month, Belphie needs to do it daily because of his coat. Without proper daily care, his hair gets oily and matted together very easily, which only makes it harder to deal with later. Beel knows that that's a lot to handle and often steps to brush out his twin's coat, even if he doesn't need any help in return. It's much easier for Belphie to feel motivated enough to help groom Beel than it is to care for himself, so their joint grooming helps them both.

On a similar note, Belphie has quite a bit of trouble with his horns and he constantly puts off taking care of them until they begin causing him physical discomfort. In the past, there's been a few times where he's let them grow a couple extra curls before they started weighing him down so much that he had to take care of it. With his twin's help, and a strictly imposed schedule, his horns haven't gotten that bad in ages, but they still tend to be rather rough most of the time. He also needs to sand down his hooves in a similar fashion. Normally, they'd be maintained just by walking on rough surfaces, but Belphie definitely doesn't walk around enough for that.

If Beel's not around to help out, Belphie has no qualms with playing the baby brother card and whining until one of the others agrees to help him. He's always willing to groom them in return, though, so he usually gets his way pretty easily.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #demon forms #this post sent me down so many rabbitholes while i was seraching stuff up #also learned that cows have hair instead of fur which is horrifying #so belphie has hair instead of a fur coat

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lumilasi · 3 years

Photo

The technical “main characters” of this imaginary story that if I actually had the time and energy I could make into a comic.

Character bios below:

Names: Milo 6 Silas Viceroy, more commonly known as the Chiba twins

Nicknames:

For Milo: Gremlin, troublemaker, curtain-moncher (basically everybody) For Silas: Little assassin (anybody he fights that realizes his true skill level)

Age: they’re twins so they’re both 16. Milo was born first though so he’s the big brother.

Height(s): 165 cm (Milo) 163 cm (Silas)

Adopted telepath twins of a mostly-gone telepath clan.

Role: Protagonist duo/telepath students

Family: Biological parents: the now gone Viceroy family, one fourth of the founders of the Telepath clan. Adoptive parent Chiba Kaede & her daughter Akiko. Mentoring figure Shou Morikawa. Also Milo considers Claude Fortis (a telepath that works for the story’s initial antagonists) as a big brother figure to him.

Love interest(s): None.

Friends: Their mentor Shou, their big sister Akiko, Shou’s mentor’s daughter Hanabi, and their family in general. Milo also ends up considering little Ichirou his friend later on.

Rival(s): None (for now)

Powers:

Being part of a powerful telepath clan, both boys have telepathy abilities, just they excel in different things. Both can talk telepathically and float objects.

Milo’s expertise is more combat oriented; he can float and throws things really high and fast, and can also destroy things with his mind by blowing or crumbling them up. He can also use his telepath aura to grant him physical power boost.

Silas’ is more stealth oriented, where he can affect people’s minds by causing hallucinations, lulling people to sleep or even affect and manipulate their dreams. He’s really good at making himself float.

Milo’s special thing is, that his mind and soul can’t be possessed; his is so “open” to the point its nonexistent to anyone trying to root themselves into it. As soon as an entity tries to possess him, they slip right back out. His soul and mind will only become accessible if he wills it so. In turn he can also access other people’s minds and souls very easily, without actually affecting them in any way, as if he’s not there. Typically doing this would result in some sort of awareness from the person being effected, but Milo’s presence is completely unnoticeable. (he’s unaware of this for a long time)

Silas’s specialty is that as the one born with the soul shape of their family butterfly symbol (Monarch butterfly) he can channel their ancestors to amp up his powers and skill to levels that you wouldn’t expect from someone so young. However, he doesn’t always have control over what happens when he’s possessed as his own will may get overpowered.

Milo is pretty fast and strong for a sixteen year old, and his strength is often affected unconsciously by his telepath powers. Silas tends to be really graceful which includes him being a good dancer

Weaknesses:

Milo: He struggles to control his own strength and might accidentally cause unnecessary explosions and damage. He also struggles to use the more mental aspects of his power, such as accessing people’s thoughts. He can only really do it easily with Silas. He also has an emotional burden over what happened with his big brother figure Claude, and desperately wants to find a way to help him.

Silas: When possessed by his ancestors, he might lose his autonomy and control over what he does. Silas is also very protective over Milo, to the point he’s very stab happy and may be unnecessarily violent towards anyone trying to hurt his brother.

Personality:

Milo: The weird gremlin kid who’s socially awkward but generally means well. He mostly communicates with sounds, gestures or using his brother’s voice thanks to their mental link, as he’s selectively mute due to trauma. He’s overtly curious and a bit temperamental, which can lead into trouble sometimes. Milo is bit of a hothead too, and is often seen gnawing at Shou’s head or clothes when he’s mad at their mentor.

Silas: He is calmer and more polite than his brother, and people generally see him as a kind sunshine boy who’s very friendly and helpful. That being said he is very protective over Milo, and can get quite vicious protecting his sibling. In fact, he’s got quite the dark side to his personality, where he has tendencies to be a bit of a “survivalist” meaning he’s willing to go very far to get through things, putting aside his own feelings and morality if needed.

BG story:

Milo and his brother are last surviving members of their telepath clan family, which was near completely wiped out during a ritual gone wrong performed on their former babysitters and older-sibling like figures, Claude and his blind twin brother Cecil. Silas managed to drag them out of the village and into the river on a boat, which eventually brought them to the port town miles and miles away. From there A woman named Kaede spotted them, and took pity on the lost and orphaned kids, adopting them as little siblings for her only child Akiko.

Later, after Kaede disappeared after making her daughter protect and keep a mysterious item safe, Akiko raised the two boys in their family farm alone, up until her childhood friend Shou returned, a young man who also happened to be a telepath (at the time they didn’t know he was part of the same clan, though Akiko suspected so given he also had a butterfly-themed earring like Silas and Milo) and she requested him to teach the boys to control their powers better.

After some shenanigans with Shou struggling in his new role as a mentoring figure, the object Kaede asked her daughter to protect gets stolen by a mysterious woman, accompanied by a vicious swordsman that turns out to be from the same village as Milo and Silas, a man named Claude. He almost kills Shou, but then gets stopped by Milo, with the two recognizing each other.

The group sets out to get the object the pair stole back, not knowing the kind of adventure they got themselves into...

Fun facts:

The boys are actually bilingual, they know the “language of the lands” as Silas calls it, and their native they mostly used back in their village. Only Akiko, Claude, Yuushi and (interestingly) Caelan can read and understand this language. Akiko because the boys taught her, Claude because it’s his native too, Yuushi because he understands all languages given what he is, and Caelan, because of plot reasons.

Milo has a habit of chewing on canvases, anything he can reach, if he’s bored/annoyed/freaking out/hungry.

Milo has a massive appetite, and has ended up in an eating competition with Raitei, a half-blood dog spirit who also eats a lot, and actually won

Milo is selectively mute and mostly communicates through gestures, sounds, or just using his telepathy to speak directly into people’s minds. He only actually uses his voice in very serious or significant moments.

Milo’s telepath aura is blue, whereas Silas’ aura is pinkish purple.

Silas soul shape butterfly is the Monarch, which was also the crest of their family, making him the child prodigy of their bloodline, I.E he’s the most powerful and skilled telepath (supposedly) of his generation. Milo’s shape is an imperial moth, which is typically the one the sibling of a Monarch is born with. (cuz you know, both are “royalty” hehe)

Silas can dance and sing pretty well.

Silas has a “stealth” version of his outfit where it’s mostly black with orange/red/yellow accents.

Silas is the epitome of the knife kid meme

#lumi's chaotic creations #lumi's art scribbles #Milo and Silas #Viceroy twins #my oc art #myocs #manga and anime #anime style #cell shading #My characters #twin brothers #my ocs drawing #sibling ocs #character illustration #Telepaths

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psychotakublabs · 3 years

Text

We can all agree we did not see “Creepy Luz” coming. It was originally a theory created by It’s Rebecca Rose from figuring out who sent the letters. Turns out it was an actual double of Luz who is now impersonating her in the Human Realm. There is little to be known about this unknown person so for now they will be dubbed “Creepy Luz”. All we know is they have been sending letters to Camila since summer camp (which explains why Camila was so calm and happy during the texts), identical to Luz, and are impersonating her to take over her life. There are a few possibilities as to what Creepy Luz might be.

1) Doppelganger

Doppelgangers are unbiological and unrelated doubles of a living person. It’s translation from its original German meaning is “double-walker”. In folklore, myths, and fictions doppelgangers are seen as harbingers of bad luck, evil twin/self, or an alter ego. A doppelganger is an exact copy of the original person and even has the same feelings, experiences, and emotions. Basically nothing good comes from a doppelganger. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doppelg%C3%A4nger explains more about doppelgangers. If you read the link you will notice a common theme in fiction, media, and folklore: a doppelganger is the double of a person with ill intent. Creepy Luz could be a doppelganger either from a rift in another world or from the Boiling Isles. If this is true, from how ominous Creepy Luz is, their reason for impersonating Luz will come with bad intentions. In the Camila clip in the trailer, we see red lines connecting to a newspaper clipping of a hooded figure with a staff and a key. We initially thought it was Camila looking for her daughter, but what if it’s Creepy Luz either trying to find their way back to the Boiling Isles? Would be counterintuitive as they want to impersonate Luz but we don’t really know why. Dana did mention she loved the “evil doppelganger theory” but kept it quiet probably for this reason (respect for keeping the secret so well). Now there are holes in this such as how did this doppelganger come into existence (probably magic but by whom?), their reasoning for going back to the Boiling Isles, how does Creepy Luz sound mechanical if they are an exact copy, and why Luz since she went to the Boiling Isles by accident.

2) Changeling

Changelings are human-like creatures (usually fairies but not exclusively) that have been left in place of a human stolen by fairies. In folklore, changelings are usually switched from sickly or underdeveloped newborns and either stay with the human family or return to the realm of magic. There are rare instances where changelings do switch with grown humans (usually for marital reasons or for nurturing the young). Sometimes a changeling does not know they are one and usually exhibit unusual behavior when left alone. However, there are some instances where they do know about their identity and want to return to their fairy family. Sometimes the human child switched will also stay with the fairy family. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Changeling explains more about changelings. Creepy Luz being a changeling could be likely. It is not impossible for a changeling to switch with someone after childhood and their reasoning could be outside of marital and nurturing reasons such as wanting a family of their own or just messing with Luz. Like their name, they can change into a human and be a copy of the one they wish to impersonate. It does not mean they can copy their experiences, feelings, or emotions which would explain why the letters looked mechanical and the misspelling of Luz. However, they are trapped in the Human Realm and from the Camila clip in the trailer may be trying to find their way back; they know their identity as a changeling and want to go back to the Boiling Isles. Interestingly, changeling folklore is theorized to be derived from children who were born underdeveloped or abnormally (deformed, disabled, or neurodivergent). In autistic culture, some adults have identified with changelings for this reason and for feelings of being in a world where they do not belong and not being the same species as others around them. The creator confirmed Luz is neurodivergent and I would not be surprised if the team made Creepy Luz a changeling because of the history and folklore behind them. Only holes in this theory are why they chose Luz, how they were able to impersonate her so well, and how much of a copy is Creepy Luz to Luz.

3) Shapeshifter

Shapeshifters are beings that can physically transform their bodies at will through inherent ability, divine intervention, magic or sorcery, demonic manipulation, or spells. Shapeshifters mostly shift into animal forms in folklore, myths, media, and literature. But that does not mean there are stories of shifting into human forms. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shapeshifting explains more about shape shifting. Usually done with animals turning into people but the myths/powers of shapeshifters is very flexible in fiction. It wouldn’t be far off for Creep Luz to be a shapeshifter. Probably a creature from the Boiling Isles who saw Luz and decided to shift into her, has some ill intentions or other reasons for stealing/impersonating her life, and used the summer camp to learn human culture. However, this only implies there are shapeshifters that can turn into humans, why impersonate humans to begin with, and how long they can hold out.

4) Clone

An interesting theory out there is Creepy Luz is a clone of Luz. Both in fiction and reality, clones are exact copies of an object, organic and/or man made. In fiction, a clone is usually copying a person for either experiments, research, labor/army force, or to extend one’s life span through another. In this case, it seems cloning Luz is for another plan outside those reasons. Since Creepy Luz went to summer camp, there is a theory that the camp cloned Luz. In the beginning of the series, Eda explained that folklore and myths are caused by leaks from the Boiling Isles. Although rare, like humans coming to the Boiling Isles, it could be possible for residents from the Boiling Isles to slip into the Human Realm. Maybe a creature from the Boiling Isles was able to clone Luz from their magic and has some reason for doing so. However, there are holes in that theory such as reasons for a camp doing that, how they would clone Luz when she never went, and no information on said camp. If Creepy Luz is a clone, it was most likely done by some type of magic in the Boiling Isles. It could be from someone who has watched Luz for a while or it just happened out of nowhere. This theory does not have much merit as clones are usually scientific (Belos does use technology but doesn’t know about Luz until coming to the Boiling Isles) and there is no one who would want to clone Luz besides the camp or Belos/other magic organization. Still worth mentioning at least since Creepy Luz was already a surprise to us.

5) Another Creature Entirely/ Non-Existent

Creepy Luz could be an entirely different creature all together. “The Owl House '' does take some of the residents from folklore in fantasy genres and ancient mythology but there have been creatures who are unique in the show (Tiny Nose, Warden Wrath, Grometheus, Hooty, etc). Creepy Luz could be a new creature from the Boiling Isles. Which means we have absolutely no idea what Creepy Luz actually is. All we know is Creepy Luz sent letters to Camila meaning they went to summer camp, seem to have a vague concept of what Luz and Camila’s relationship/interactions are, probably got Luz’s personality from the letters and interaction with Camila, knows about the Boiling Isles and wants to go back somehow, and has the ability to appear as Luz. There have been other theories going around in the fandom as well. Creepy Luz could be an illusion conjured by another witch. However, this means there was a witch watching Luz this entire time even before entering the Boiling Isles. Not impossible as there is a mysterious hooded figure from the trailer. But it would entail that they have a connection to the Human Realm or have access to see the Human Realm and have magic powerful enough to sustain Creepy Luz in the Human Realm. It’s not impossible but I think Belos would notice and try to get rid of them. Either this witch is crafty or Belos’s men are not doing a good job. Another theory is that Creepy Luz doesn’t exist and is just a hallucination from Camila’s stress and sadness of Luz missing. There are instances where if the trauma is too much, the brain can cause hallucinations that are very real to cope with. However, Camila seemed okay in ‘Enchanting Grom Fright” and “Keeping Up A-fear-ances” and interacted with Creepy Luz normally. The home also looked well kept and organized and nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. She also received physical letters and it’s not possible she wrote them herself because she knows Luz’s name and what they do for activities together. Camila also looks content that she received texts from Luz so she does not know she is missing from camp. This theory is probably the most far-fetched, but it’s worth mentioning at least. Honestly Creepy Luz can be anything from the Boiling Isles which means we have no idea what they are yet.

Now let’s get to how this affects Camila. We will see her again as there is a clip of her in the trailer we have not seen. However, it will not be towards the end of Season 2A (either 9 or 10). Now there are episode titles and descriptions of episode 9 and 10 but because they have not been officially released by Disney, I will not comment on them too much. From the short time we see Camila it seems she is doing okay and is under the assumption Creepy Luz is Luz. Now one would think Camila would notice changes in Luz. Creepy Luz is cunning and smart by going to the camp to not only study Luz and human culture but to fool Camila. Camila sent Luz to camp to help with her impulsive creativity and to fit in a little (does not make Camila a bad mom, I will rant about that later). Seeing her daughter change wouldn’t be a red flag for her. However, their ruse will not last for long. In the clip, we see Camila smiling until she puts the phone down and starts frowning. This is either a response to the messages from Luz or a response to Creepy Luz and their odd answers or behavior. She may start to think Creepy Luz suspicious and notice something is off. Even notice the newspaper clippings and conspiracy theory boards are off instead of Luz just being her usual weird self. Once she distances herself from Creepy Luz, she will look at the messages Luz sent (if they are sent) and wonder who this imposter is. If the messages haven’t been sent, then she will find out herself about Creepy Luz being an imposter (behavior, appearance, secret journals, interactions, etc). From seeing many scenarios from the fandom either two things will happen. 1) Camila will confront Creepy Luz and find out they are an imposter. Whether physical combat happens or they just go into a verbal confrontation, Creepy Luz’s disguise will falter and this may send Camila in an angry panicl. 2) Camila will keep interacting with Creepy Luz to find out more about Luz’s whereabouts. She will keep her knowledge of Creepy Luz a secret to find her daughter. However, this will create tension and both will slip up their true intentions. Now depending on what Creepy Luz is either their intentions are as simple as just messing with people or sinister like taking over Luz’s life for a purpose. We have to remember “The Owl House” is a horror comedy so there is bound to be some silliness either in the confrontation or Creepy Luz. However, from the conspiracy board, it seems Creepy Luz may want to go back to the Boiling Isles. Depending on their motives for that (if not related to Belos) the two may actually work together. Camila will help Creepy Luz get back to the Boiling Isles and Creepy Luz will help Camila find her daughter. Now this is only if that is the intention of Creepy Luz. There could be other intentions such looking for something for the “Day of Unity” (if related to Belos) or simply wanting Luz’s life. I do hope we get a confrontation with Creepy Luz, stating Camila accepted them easily because she wanted a normal daughter instead of Luz. Camila will be saddened because Creepy Luz is not all wrong but also becomes angry and realizes she does love Luz no matter her weirdness (again will go on a separate rant about Camila in another post). This will spur Camila further into finding Luz. However, this is just an imagined scenario in my head. The main point is Camila will find out about Creepy Luz’s true identity. Honestly, Creepy Luz was just a theory until now confirmed. I am excited to find out what Creepy Luz is, their intentions, and how Camila will find out/react to it. If you have any thoughts about Creepy Luz please comment I’d love to hear em!

#the owl house #season 2 #creepy luz #imposter luz #luz noceda #doppelganer #evil twin #toh #toh luz #toh theory #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers #toh camila #emperor belos #changeling theory

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duskandstarlight · 4 years

Text

Embers & Light (Chapter 24)

Notes: Chapter 24 - can you guys believe it?! I have brought you a lot of angst in the last few chapters, but there is a lil fluffy moment in this chapter which I hope you enjoy. Plus protective Cassian (one of my personal favourites).

As ACOSF draws nearer, I wanted to ask you guys a question. I initially was hoping to finish this fic before it came out, but I just don't think it's going to happen. So if you would still read E&L after ACOSF comes out, could you let me know? It will help me to make a decision on whether I need to start wrapping this all up sharpish, or whether I can continue to move along at my current pace.

Enjoy :) And I hope you all are having a lovely festive period.

p.s I’ve been having issues with tagging blogs lately. Let me know if you get a notification?

Chapter 24 Nesta

Nesta was drowning.

Drowning in the dark; in the unfathomable cold that bit at her ankles and dragged her down by invisible, insistent hands and sharp, pointed claws. Down, down, down Nesta went, into the inky blackness that sung of ancient horror, fighting for a breath that she could not take.

Inside her head, Nesta was screaming; the sound an echo, as if she were detached from her body and she were listening to someone else. It was a scream of rage and unmeasurable pain as her body was torn apart and rearranged: her bones cracking and reforming into solid steel; her ears stretching into points; her limbs elongating. And with that fire a burning cold that was deeper than the gap between stars. Nesta screamed from the agony of it, but cold water rushed into her lungs and stifled the sound. Pain licked at her skin like the flames of a fire, until her blood was bubbling with rage and a thirst for revenge that ran so deep it became woven into the very fabric of who she was — of who she was being moulded into.

Nesta should have passed out from the pain but instead she fought to remain conscious; wholly awake and wholly a witness as she tore at the edges of the blasted Cauldron. The sides were made of nothing but canvas, Nesta’s nails ripping through it as the Cauldron bucked and shrieked, like an animal caught beneath her paw.

Bright light poured through the gaping holes, blinding her new born eyes that had not yet seen.

She felt the power of it, the piece she carved out for herself in fury and with revenge singing in her blood. She made it hers, let that power sink into her bones, her skin, as they snapped and cracked and reshaped themselves…

The Cauldron continued to thrash and struggle. The water took on a thicker quality like tar, but Nesta did not relent. She ravaged that power until it was a part of her; stolen and consumed. Impossible to take back.

And then Nesta was no longer drowning but falling.

The pocket of air hit her with such force that Nesta found herself with the irony that she could not breathe, even though it was what she needed more than anything in the world. But then her lungs were spluttering, her stomach lurching, and inky blackness — ancient death — was regurgitated onto crystalline rock. Nesta heaved until her stomach had no more and she was gasping for breath — cold, bracing fresh air that tasted like freedom — before she rolled onto her back, her hair plastered to her face.

She shivered from the cold and the unquenchable fury that would not see her yield.

Above her was midnight black, the stillness of what Nesta wanted to believe was sky but she knew was only an illusion. It brought her comfort even though she wanted to hate it; wanted to sob and scream until she was so exhausted that she couldn’t muster any more strength.

And she should have been terrified but she also felt deathly calm, even as a voice spoke out of the darkness. It was a voice that was ancient; old and superlunary with a strength that whispered of unimaginable power for better or worse. “I have been waiting for you, Nesta Archeron.”

Words like ice fire. Of steel and reserve. Of power beyond Nesta’s wildest reckoning.

It hurt to move but Nesta scrambled to her feet, slipping on loose rock and craggy stone. The sound that beat in her ears was an insistent, terrified rhythm, and it took Nesta a moment to piece together that it was her heart, throwing itself with a repetitive boom against strips of bone — a flimsy cage for something so fierce.

Whirling around, Nesta tried to source the voice but found only that endless stretch of deep velvet, and in the near distance, a towering shadow that rose up, up, up into the darkness until it blended into the canvas, like something disappearing into the clouds.

Nesta made herself take stock. Made herself stand still. To dampen the terror and focus on that spiky, deep-set anger that still consumed her. Her back stiffened, her chin rose, and when she spoke for the first time with her new lungs, Nesta did not let her voice shake.

She clenched her fists until her new nails bit into the meat of her palms. “Where am I?”

A sensual laugh as smooth as marble echoed around her — perfectly rendered. “Do you hear the wind? It moans your name, Nesta Archeron. Your twin can hear it. They’ve always been able to hear it. Your history written into the night sky where you only need join the dots. So easy to ignore until now.” A pause and Nesta felt that being move. Her head snapped around as the voice mused from behind her, “And your destiny: a sacrifice and a gift in the same moment.”

Nesta tightened her fists in an effort to ground herself and willed herself to lean back into that odd sense of being rather than the fear that was making her heart race. She felt her nails break through her skin with a pop. She scented blood; metallic and salt. She was so cold she wanted to shake until her teeth chattered, but Nesta would not show weakness. She would not break down.

So Nesta rose up tall and made her voice ice cold; strong rather than brittle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Another long, sensual laugh. A caress akin to a brush stroking the softest of bristles over her skin. “No, you don’t,” the voice agreed. “Not yet. But you will.”

A moment in time stretched out, the pause pregnant and awesome. Then a soft light in the darkness above, growing in size: a fleck, a star, a luminescent ball of light…

“What do you want, Nesta Archeron?”

“I want revenge,” Nesta replied, her voice full of a sudden vigour as vengeance lashed out on a forked tongue.

Again, more soft laughter that licked over Nesta’s body in a shiver. “You have already got that, have you not? Do you not feel that deathly power in your veins? That hum of primitive power that you have stolen, that has been woven into who you now are.”

“I will end him. I will end everyone who has caused my sister harm.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. But what will that take from you?”

Hysterical laughter wanted to burst forth from Nesta’s lungs, as if she could only feel the sharpest of emotion and everything else were muted.

“Everything has already been taken from me,” Nesta spat, balling her hands into harder fists, her nails digging into her crescent shaped wounds.

Pain flared, fresh and sharp but Nesta paid it no heed. She was no stranger to pain and she would rally. Every. Damn. Time.

The light above Nesta continued to grow until it became distinct; a fiery palm emerging out of the dark. Nesta did not flinch. Did not scream or back away. Did not bow or yield or grovel. She only let pearlescent fingers close around Nesta’s own, the touch like a near-scalding bath that settled only when your blood thrummed beneath raw, pink skin.

“So much sacrifice,” the voice pondered, turning Nesta’s hand. Nesta’s fingers unfurled from her palm without her willing it, until her palm lay open, the half-crescent moons bloody tears in her otherwise new skin. “But what about a gift?” the voice asked. “A gift for the girl who lives with such anger and guilt. The girl who sees the world in all its terrible glory and feels too much. What do you say to that?”

“I only want revenge,” Nesta repeated, her mind assaulting her with images of Elain as she was pushed under the inky water, as she emerged drowning and wholly new — wrong.

No laughter this time. Only that hand rising, fingers coming together until they were pointed and pinching something out of the dark.

A pearl of pure light hovered millimetres from those shining fingers, as if it were attached by an invisible string. It sung with such radiant brilliance that Nesta wanted to look away: it was the pure, unfathomable brightness of a midnight star. A melody that sung of promise and hope.

“What is revenge worth if it does not emerge from the desire to protect?” the voice asked, letting go of that drop of light. It did not fall like water; it floated down slowly, until it nestled in the crook of Nesta’s palm like a pearl that shimmered as it caught the light.

Nesta remained deathly still, staring at the drop of possibility in her palm.

“Revenge is choice, Nesta Archeron. It can be a wish for death and pain or to protect and defend.”

“Both,” Nesta said fiercely. “It can be both.”

“Multi-faceted and complex, as all decisions are,” the voice agreed. “And there are so many strands in you, aren’t there? Already you have felt one of them, although I do not think you have truly placed the puzzle pieces together. But here is another choice; something to cherish and use wisely on those who are worthy. Everything is cyclical. Day and night, birth and death, love and sacrifice…”

The luminescent hand closed Nesta’s palm, but rather than the drop of light bring dampened by shadow, it sank into Nesta’s skin, until it too became a part of her.

“I don’t want a gift.”

But even as Nesta spoke she knew she did not truly mean it.

She also knew it was too late. She felt her blood spike and thrum as that light channeled into her, twining around that deathly power that she had already stolen and forced into her remaking.

A low hum vibrated the ground beneath Nesta’s feet. “Don’t want it or do not deserve it?”

And then Nesta was drowning again with such startling speed that she hadn’t the time to take a deep breath. Terror gripped her, and with it power sung in her blood, the sensation like boiling water, as if her very skin were bubbling with it even though that dark water bit with a cold akin to the fiercest frostbite.

As if fear had summoned it, silver fire began to glow at Nesta’s palms. Water rushed into Nesta’s lungs and with it, that power surged.

Up, up, up Nesta went, like an arrow unsheathed from a bow until the inky black was no longer concrete and colour swam on the surface.

Everything tilted as the Cauldron tipped, jerking the water and Nesta out onto the cold flagstones of reality.

Nesta took a desperate, ragged breath through the gag that was suddenly back around her mouth, and cast a look around the room: to Cassian who was sprawled unconscious on the ground, his arm outstretched and his wings in tatters; to Feyre who was kneeling in her own vomit tucked into Rhysand’s side...

And on her sister’s face, Nesta could see what she was: ravaging, deadly, awesome. A face and figure to stop males and females in their tracks. A face and figure that would make humans and fae alike think twice.

But that was nothing of the forged steel in Nesta’s bones, in her blood, as she scrabbled across the floor to Elain on her long, unnatural limbs and tore the gag from her mouth.

It was a steel that no-one could see but that they could all sense as Nesta locked eyes with the King of Hybern, that promise of death still swimming in those mercury eyes that moved.

She would have her revenge. Of that, she was sure.

***

Nesta gasped.

Her hands flailed, her body screamed with agony, her lungs were hoarse and raw, her abdomen set with a pain that went so deep she knew something was gravely wrong.

And through her veins… no whisper of her magic. Not a drop.

It was that which made her thrash, her lungs suddenly unable to breathe from the agony that wrangled through her body.

She heard her name. Again and again; the high-pitched desperation of a female. Feyre. But then something much lower. A caress. A rumble that quelled her fear and kicked the breath back into her with a force that had her gasping.

Nesta’s hand found a rough, calloused palm across the mattress. Fingers curled unbelievably gently around hers. She heard the rustle of wings. Smelt pine and musk and the bracing fresh air of the Illyrian skies.

“Nesta. You need to take your medicine. The morphine has worn off.”

Cassian.

Even with her eyes submerged in the dark, Nesta knew that Cassian had turned his head to murmur something in low tones to her sister — her senses heightened in the wake of the fear that was still bitter on her tongue.

Then light retreating footsteps. The click of a closed door. A large hand on her temple. A wet rag against her lips. Nesta opened her mouth despite the foul tasting tincture which burned her throat and flooded her tastebuds; swallowing it down, begging it to soothe over the pain which she could not describe for its wrongness, even though she had been told that she would heal.

Frawley had come to visit her the last time Nesta had resurfaced. Had explained why she was there and what had happened. That Nesta had the gift of healing. That she had over-healed Mas's traumatic injuries and moved on to older ones. That she had sacrificed her wellness for someone else’s. That she would have died had Cassian not got her to stop.

Another power Nesta needed to train. As if she didn’t have enough to wrangle under control.

Nesta did not remember much after dropping to her knees at the widows camp. She remembered the click of a lock inside of her; the way her power had flipped from silver to startling, brilliant white. That she had known what to do as she lifted her hands over Mas and started to use her magic for something wholly good.

“What did you feel for your power came to the surface?” Frawley had asked before she took leave.

Nesta had bitten back a whimper of agony as she shifted uncomfortably on the mattress. She had been swamped in heavy blankets and consumed in Cassian’s scent. His bed not hers. But the scent of him… it comforted her. She was too tired to rally against it. Had woken knowing that she was immeasurably safe even though memory tried to persuade her that she was not.

Eventually, when she realised that Frawley’s second eye had come to rest on her along with ice blue, Nesta had supplied, “I felt grief.”

“And what else?” Frawley had urged, her ice blue eye glowing with intensity.

Nesta had been too tired to answer. Her eyelids heavy from the sedative she had been given, despite the energising tea Frawley had administered to attempt to speed up the act of replenishing her magic. To fight the fatigue one felt when they had been drained of power.

And now she was waking again and Frawley was gone.

Braving the light, Nesta cracked open an eye. Her head throbbed, as if her brain were growing in her skull and it was pressing against bone.

Cassian was hovering over her, a crumpled frown twisting his brow as he dripped the medicine past her lips. He caught her eyes opening a fraction too late and she catalogued worry slide into relief before it was pushed back and a light was forced into those dark irises. When he smiled at her, it was too tight and anguished to ring true. She must have been in a bad way — very bad — for him to lose sight of his tendency to arrange his expression into that casual playfulness. For her sister to still be here, hovering by her bedside unsure how to act or how to behave. For her mate to be in the room next door, his star-blessed magic permeating Cassian’s bedroom even through stone and plaster and wood. She could even sense Azriel’s shadows moving like an agitated fog.

No Amren. No Mor.

Something to be thankful for.

“Mas?” she asked. Her throat was dry despite the tincture and the word came out scratchy and raw.

Cassian pressed a glass of water to her lips.

She drank.

“Mas has left to help relocate the widows and orphans,” Cassian told her. “I had her checked over by Madja and Frawley. She is perfectly fine. Roksana too,” he added when Nesta frowned. “Mas hasn’t flown yet,” he continued. “She wanted you to witness it.”

Something tightened around Nesta’s throat. It was not panic but… deep twisting affection for the housekeeper. It must be agony for Mas not to launch straight into the skies. Yet… Nesta was touched beyond imagining that she would wait for Nesta to witness something so precious. A moment in history that was not tainted in blood and death but joy.

Cassian had paused as if he were checking himself. He had moved away from her, to the dark dresser to the left of the bed. There was a clink of glass which Nesta supposed was him stoppering the medicine. “I know you do not like it here and I understand that. You were given no choice and Illyria is…” he trailed off, as if he were searching for the right word. “It’s brutal, in both harsh reality and its beauty. But the widows and orphans… they will not forget what you have done for them — how you fought for them. Mas has been shackled in so many ways throughout her life, but her wings… You have given her freedom, Nesta. She will never forget that ,and neither will those females who witnessed you healing her.”

When Cassian turned back to look at Nesta, his eyes were glowing with such intensity she did not know what to say. He seemed to understand that, breaking their gaze to stare out of the window.

It was snowing again. The scent of it was in the air and on Cassian’s clothes, from where Nesta imagined he’d been in the throng of it all, establishing order where there was chaos. She imagined that was why his family was here.

“Azriel has some information about the kerits,” Cassian said. He remained staring out of the window, his gaze fixed on the snow falling from the thin sheets of grey cloud strung in the sky. “About where we think they came from. We would like you to be a part of the discussion.” A pause. “If you would like to be, that is.”

Nesta held back a snort partly because she knew it would hurt too much. “I don’t think your High Lord wants me to be a part of any discussion.”

“Rhys specifically asked me to fetch you before we began,” Cassian replied, not flinching at her ice-sharp words. Nesta supposed he had become immune. “You are integral to the conversation.”

Noise caught in the back of Nesta’s throat. “I thought I was just a stain you all wished you could rid yourself of.”

No, not immune. Cassian flinched as if he had been burned, his wings spreading instinctively before he could catch them. He retracted them back in with a slow huff of anger. It was not a disparaging or exasperated sigh, more… defeated, as if it were a remark that brought him pain.

Still he did not turn to her. If anything, his focus became more intent on the scenery outside. At the bustle of Illyrians as they fought against the flurry of snow that promised to kiss everything white at the worst possible time.

Cassian’s jaw feathered. “If I remember correctly, it was always you trying to rid yourself of me.”

Nesta blinked at the coarse words that held no lightness, no mockery, no teasing. That were honest and unhappy. Twisted with a rejection which hit her to the bone.

You rejected me first, Nesta wanted to say, as she watched the taut muscles in Cassian’s back. They were vibrating with an energy that usually told Nesta that he needed to fight with his fists until his body was sated.

“We believe the attacks might be orchestrated,” Cassian continued. “Azriel went to scout the perimeter to see if there was any evidence. He has only just arrived back.” Finally, those amber eyes rested back on her. They were burning with a rage that had been purposefully dialled back, but Nesta knew how much Cassian cared about his people. “Will you come?” he asked.

Shock wound through Nesta at the confession. At the brutality of what Cassian was suggesting. Anger spiked through the exhaustion with such ferocity her magic should have been roaring, but it only remained quiet. Yet… a determination solidified in her mind. She did want to be a part of the conversation. Not just to be useful, but because Nesta cared about the widows and orphans. She longed to hold Roksana close and see Mas fly. To lay the dead to rest, to check in on the injured. To see if she could use her healing magic to mend their wounds. To show that she was not an observer but a fighter - a protector. That she would lay her life on the line to protect the females who had nothing and were helpless against every threat, just as she had once been.

She did not say all that. Instead, she just said, “Fine.”

A short nod as if Cassian understood. “We can do it in here or out there.” Cassian jerked his chin to the living room. “Frawley said you are not to move if it can be helped, but something tells me you’d sooner have died than be crowded on your sick bed.”

There. A small lace of lightness that had not been there before. Forced, maybe, but there all the same.

Nesta scowled. “You thought rightly.”

“It will hurt,” Cassian warned her. “For me to lift you.”

“Then do it gently.”

A soft snicker as he moved off the many, many blankets, and then strong, corded arms slid beneath her body.

Cassian’s voice was rough in her ear. “You’re the most stubborn female I’ve ever met.”

Gritting her teeth, Nesta tried to overcome the sharp, deep-set pain that made her want to cry out.

The way Cassian gathered her to him was pain-achingly careful but it was still too much, her wounds too fresh and Nesta gasped a high-pitched cry, digging her fingers so hard into his tunic that she knew they must have bitten into the skin of his shoulders. Cassian did not indicate that she had hurt him, he only cradled her closer to the hard planes of his body, his huge wing curving around her as if he could partition off the pain and keep her safe.

The glow of the membrane was not unlike that of rusty, glowing embers. Beautiful.

Cassian remained stock still, waiting for the pain to ebb and then, slowly, as if he were hesitant to do it, his forehead came to rest on the top of her head; a bowing gesture that was almost like a confession, folding her into a protective cocoon that smelt of pine resin and warmth.

If Nesta could move without crying out, she would have traced a finger down his wing, following the spider webs of his capillaries. She had never had the opportunity to study them this close up. They were as mesmerising as fire flames as they danced their way up into the sky; as captivating as woodsmoke as it were tossed about on a breeze.

“I thought you were going to die.”

Cassian’s voice was a low, deep rumble that she felt in the pit of her stomach. In her bones. In her heart.

“Not yet,” she replied drily, but the hoarse words were muffled by the embrace.

She knew what he was trying to say. Had felt it before. The way in which history had tied the two of them together. Had made them terrified not just of dying, but without the other. An immeasurable panic that clawed at her throat and tore at her lungs.

To end up on death’s door without her lying over him was unimaginable. They had vowed to go together and even now, when they were separate rather than entwined, she would still lay her body over his broken one and refuse to live.

“Don’t say that,” Cassian clipped, his voice suddenly sharp. Broken.

Even though it hurt to move, Nesta rolled her head to press against his chest, shifting his forehead so it was lower, his lips almost brushing her skin. Nesta could not bring it in herself to care. Cassian smelt just as his sheets had — pine, musk and untamed air. Comforting.

Hesitantly, as if she had surprised him, Cassian’s large hand came to cup her head.

For a moment, they stayed like that, until the burning question that had hung in the back of her mind became too much. “Why am I in your room?” she asked.

“I had to put Mas in your bed,” Cassian confessed. She felt him smile small against her — a promise of mischief. “It’s not the way I imagined I’d first have you beneath my sheets, but I guess I should just be thankful you’re alive.”

A quiet snarl from Nesta had Cassian lifting his head to laugh. The sound was a low rasp which did not hold its usual vigour.

He was still worried. She could feel it. The sensation was relentless as a crashing tide.

“Reign in your worry,” Nesta snapped weakly. “I can feel it and it’s making me nauseous.”

Another laugh, stronger this time, and then Cassian’s emotion vanished, as if it had been carried away on a sea-kissed breeze.

“I’m going to move now,” he informed her. “Best brace yourself for the pain, sweetheart.”

It was agony. The pain so awfully deep that Nesta could hardly breathe, even as Cassian moved as smoothly as possible. She wanted to cry out, to whimper, but she would not show weakness in front of her sister’s mate.

By the time she was settled on the couch, Nesta had broken that vow; distressed sounds escaping through gritted teeth as she panted desperately for breath. With a click of Rhys's fingers, the nest of blankets that Nesta had been swaddled in appeared on the couch, just in time for Cassian to lower her onto the cushions.

Nesta did not have it in herself to be angered that Rhys had helped.

At the sound of her sister's stifled shouts, Feyre rushed out of the kitchen. She was holding a steaming mug in her hands, which Cassian plucked from his High Lady and planted straight into Nesta’s palms.

Feyre allowed him to do it without a word of protest, anxiously wringing her hands as she studied what Nesta imagined to be her too pale face, the sweat that had broken out on her forehead…

They had not spoken properly since the attack, but Feyre had been there, hovering on the periphery; anxious and sick with worry that she did not know assaulted Nesta until she too became nauseous with it. Nesta’s icy guard had been down since she had dropped to her knees beside Mas, and she hadn’t the power to stack it back up. Not when she was as exhausted as she was, her power utterly diminished and her body focussing on healing.

Finally casting a glance around the room, Nesta saw that the flames in the log burner were raging mute. She wondered who had magicked them to become silent. She hoped it was Frawley rather than Rhysand.

Rhys was positioned to the right of the fireplace, and when Nesta’s gaze purposefully passed over him as if he were little more than part of the furniture, she felt his violet eyes flick to her, his expression no doubt hard and unyielding. But Nesta was too tired to battle today.

Cassian was watching her too, glaring with such intensity at her hands that Nesta was surprised they hadn’t moved involuntarily to raise the mug to her lips. Wanting him to stop, Nesta took a slow sip of tea even though it hurt to swallow. It didn’t work; those hazel eyes remaining unwaveringly fixated. He was standing right by her head, scrutinising everything she did, his wings spread as if he were contemplating launching into flight.

Nesta wanted to hiss at him, but then Feyre sat close beside her, and that made her want to hiss more.

At his place to the left of the hearth, Azriel’s lips twitched. He had been standing as still as a statue, like marble carved out of the finest stone, his shadows stolid, but now he shifted to face her.

Nesta guessed the shadowsinger could sense her emotions with her guard down completely.

She supposed there had to be a first.

When Nesta took the last sip of her drink, Cassian’s hands were immediately there, taking it from her, his siphons winking in the firelight. Nesta barely noticed. She only felt an overwhelming sense of relief at the first whisper of silver and brilliant white that twisted through her veins like two coiled serpents; intertwined yet separate.

Easing backwards with the intention of settling into the cushions, Nesta tried to ignore the pain that suddenly stabbed through her as her stomach muscles tensed. A sharp gasp escaped her, her breath knocked out of her lungs, but then cool, shadowed hands gripped Nesta’s shoulders. They took the weight off of her abdomen, slowly lowering her backwards until she was resting comfortably.

Behind her, Nesta heard Cassian’s wings snap in and out, clearly agitated at her pain.

When Nesta turned her head to Azriel, he dipped his head to her in acknowledgement. Black tendrils of shadow whispered back to him, curling around his arms and face, waiting patiently to be bent again to their master's will.

Then the shadowsinger turned to Rhys, as if seeking the order to begin.

“Thank you for joining us, Nesta,” Rhys said tightly. “Especially given the circumstances.”

Nesta did not reply, could not find it in herself to do it, but she finally stared at their High Lord with unflinching determination.

As always, Rhys was irritatingly immaculate, leaning against the hearth as if he owned it. Already Nesta felt like he was tainting her space — her sanctuary — and although she wanted to spit at him to leave and not come back, she only gave a stiff nod.

It would appear both of them were going to be forced today. Circumstances that were greater than their feud were at work, and neither of them was going to be petty enough to undermine that.

“Feyre allowed me to view her memory of the kerits attack,” Rhys said. “Three males flew over the mountain minutes before it happened. They can’t have been a part of the usual patrol as they weren’t doing the scheduled circuit. Instead, they flew straight over the mountain pass. Do you remember that?”

Nesta frowned, reaching back into the far depths of her memory… The three dots that coursed across the sky, the winking flash of silver from steel.

Sharply, Nesta craned her head to look at Cassian, not thinking of her injuries. She gasped. The movement had twisted her abdomen in a way she was not ready for.

Cassian’s large hands fell briefly to her shoulders before he moved to perch on the left of the U-shaped couch, close to the corner where he had lain her down.

“Ragar—” she started.

But Cassian only shook his head, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his broad thighs. His wings were held in high and tight to his spine. “Accounted for,” he told her. “And his friends. They were in the sparring rings with Devlon and countless other witnesses.”

His smile was grim. “It’s one of the first thing I checked,” he confessed. “But it made us start to wonder if perhaps the attacks have been orchestrated. One attack can be passed off as a freak accident, but three attacks across three different camps is suspicious, especially given that kerits do not venture into populated areas.”

Nesta’s expression sharpened. “You think somebody purposefully led those beasts to the widows camp?”

Rhys’s nodded. “We think it’s a possibility.” He pinned his brother with those violet eyes. “What did you find scouring the perimeter, Az?”

The shadowsinger’s expression did not physically change, but Nesta felt his shadows chill. “Carrion,” he said coldly. “A trail of it leading to the mountain pass. Morsels of it. Not enough to feed a starving pack, but deliberate enough to tempt them out of the depths of the mountains.”

“This winter has been especially punishing,” Cassian interjected. “I bet food supply has been scarce. They struggle to survive as it is. The sounds they made as they hunted probably alerted other packs who joined the hunt.”

Feyre sat forward so she was hovering on the edge of the couch. “That would be why they were so vicious. They knew they were competing with other packs for food.”

Nesta’s stomach turned as she thought of how the widows and orphans had been seen as as a meal. How they had huddled to the Eastern point of the camp with nowhere to go and no means of defending themselves.

“The carrion was well hidden,” Azriel continued with a nod, his voice as smooth as cold marble. “Frawley examined the remains. They weren’t killed with siphon magic and there were no visible wounds to the bodies. We also found boot prints in the mud; different prints ranging in size in two separate locations within a miles range of the camp. They were fresh.”

Everyone’s expression tightened.

Nesta didn’t ask if the carrion was human or animal. She didn’t want to know.

“Frawley has taken samples to analyse them,” Azriel added. “She said she will show her sisters, as well. To see if they can sense an insignia.”

“So that means the attack was orchestrated,” Feyre said. “Someone deliberately led those beasts to the camp?”

Rhys nodded. “The attack was certainly pre-meditated,” he replied, pinning Cassian with a look. “The real question is who would arrange an attack on three separate camps.”

Cassian snorted. “You know what the lords are going to say. What all of the Illyrian’s at Windhaven are going to say.”

“That it’s an attack from another war camp,” Azriel supplied, his voice chilled midnight.

“War lords usually have no issue in taking responsibility if they played a part in an attack,” Rhys countered.

“I know that,” Cassian interjected, impatience lining his voice. “So will the lords when they stop to see sense, but the moment we tell them that we suspect wrong doing, all hell will break loose. We can’t afford to lose any more lives to petty feuds. We’re still reeling from the loss of males since the war and the Rite is already looming over the camp.”

Rhys nodded to show he had heard. Nesta wondered if he mourned the loss of lives like Cassian did. The High Lord looked tired, as if he had been torn away from his mate for too long. Yet nobody looked as ravaged as Cassian did. Nesta did not know if his brothers knew of his recurring nightmares, but she hoped they learnt of them. Sometimes Cassian looked so exhausted that Nesta vibrated with a concern she could not shake. In the past, she had bitten her lip one too many times to prevent herself from ordering him to go to bed.

Nesta knew how awful it was to force someone to do something they desperately wanted but were too fearful to surrender themselves to.

“We will manage the lords,” Rhys assured Cassian. “We can decide how we are going to play that consul, but for now, we need to get to the bottom of how the kerits managed to get past Windhaven’s patrols. You and I both know how meticulous Devlon is when it comes to security around the camp. Those males shouldn't have been able to pass over the camp without being stopped by the warriors on patrol.”

“Whoever they were, they must have known that Cassian wasn't going to be in the camp today,” Azriel offered, the spymaster in him coming to the forefront. “The only good news is that they clearly had no idea that both Feyre and Nesta would be at the top of the mountain and able to fight. And," he added after a beat of consideration, "they certainly underestimated Nesta’s ability to slay the pack if she had been alone today.”

If Nesta hadn’t been white from pain, she would have had to freeze the blush that dared to grace her cheeks at the shadowsinger’s compliment.

An abrupt snort came from Cassian. When he spoke, his voice was brimming with anger, “Of course they underestimated Nesta. Even though they have witnessed her fire daily and sensed the enormity of her magic, they still can't fathom that a female could be more powerful than them. It has to be Illyrian’s at the root of it. Only they would be chauvinistic enough to fail to see what is right in front of them.”

“Which,” Rhys interjected, “has worked unwittingly in our favour. Rather than fuel hatred towards the Night Court and cement the growing opinion that we do not protect the Illyrian community, we had two High Fae slaughtering the pack well before any warriors arrived on the scene. And then Nesta brought Masak back to life — someone who the Illyrian males in this camp do not see as worthy to live amongst them.”

Through the exhaustion, anger heated Nesta’s blood. She felt her magic whisper. If Nesta looked inward, she could see the two strands. Could now sense the promise of healing magic in her veins amongst her silver fire. As if she had been granted the key in the face of Mas’s death and she had turned it over in the lock, setting that power free.

Yet, even as Nesta grazed that healing power, it was her silver fire that promised to roar.

“I didn’t do it to stop a Civil War. I did it to protect the females who cannot protect themselves,” Nesta snapped weakly. She was too tired to muster enough vigour into her words, but she was annoyed at the false implication behind her actions. That she had not done it out of love for the housekeeper, but because of politics.

“That may be,” Rhys said, his voice forcibly light, “and what you did was honourable, but we cannot ignore how the Illyrian’s might interpret the action.”

“What Rhys is trying to say,” Azriel interjected smoothly as Nesta’s nostrils flared, “is that the females already respect you. The way you defended them today will not strengthen the dissent, only highlight that there are fae outside of the Illyrian communities who have their best interests at heart. You, for example.”

“You know they like you,” Cassian said quietly. He did not look at Nesta. Instead, he remained fixated at the hands that were clasped tightly in front of him, his elbows resting on his broad knees. “You know they have accepted you since you defended them against the males.”

“I protect them because nobody else seems to bother,” Nesta said coldly. “How many innocent females died because of the cruel intentions of males today? How many were injured?”

“Thirteen dead, thirty plus injured,” Cassian told Nesta quietly. “It would have been many more if you and Feyre not been there. You moved so quickly you managed to slay the majority of the packs before they reached the females.”

Nesta’s expression hardened as she thought of the trailing guts that had glistened in the grey light of day; the way Roksana’s hands had slipped in Mas’s wet, sticky blood, and how she had croaked for help. Her first word aloud since Nesta had met her.

“That is still too many,” Nesta insisted, her voice betraying her — shaking with the anger and horror of it all. “Why would they target the widows first? Why not lead the kerits down the other side of the mountain pass where they would could reach the main camp and weaken Windhaven’s forces?”

“Perhaps the kerits were never intended to weaken Windhaven’s ranks at all,” Rhys mused. “Perhaps they were intended to prove a point.”

A shocked, prolonged pause.

“Are you saying,” Nesta said, her voice shaking, “that you think the rebellion could have orchestrated the attacks. That they might have specifically targeted the defenceless females because widows are seen as disposable, but their deaths would be enough to fuel dissent amongst the camps?”

Rhys stared at Nesta for a moment. His head tilted slightly to the side, in the same way that Cassian’s did when he was trying to puzzle her out. But Nesta barely saw it. All she saw was the twisted body of the kind cook who had fed Nesta every morning… Of lovely Durkhanai, with her beautiful curly hair and bright green eyes. A female who had been dealt the harshest of fates. She had not deserved her end. None of the females had.

Feyre’s hand crept over the blankets to Nesta’s. Her sister’s slim fingers wrapped around her own. “Surely they wouldn’t kill their own race?” Feyre said, her voice shaking. Nesta wondered if she, too, was thinking of the discarded limbs and pools of blood. “There were children in that camp. The females didn’t even have weapons…”

But her sister did not understand just how harsh the camps were. Unlike Nesta, Feyre had not lived amongst the widows for months. She did not know just how willing the Illyrian’s might be to offer the widows camp as a sacrifice for the sake of politics.

“I would not put it past Illyrian’s to see widows as a necessary sacrifice,” Rhys admitted eventually after a long, pregnant pause. His violet eyes had softened with grief. “If this is orchestrated by the rebellion, I suspect that by targeting the widows camps Kallon was hoping to fuel the anger amongst the Illyrian’s that they are not protected. That the Night Court does not care for Illyrian’s and offers them no protection. The widows would have been seen as a necessary sacrifice. They are outcasts in Illyrian society with no families to mourn their deaths.”

A ringing sounded in Nesta’s ears. The noise tuned out the room around her. It took her a while to realise that it was fury. It burned. It was not hot, but cold - enough to give her frostbite - as if her magic was not replenished enough to fly but was trying its best to rally itself. Inside of her chest, something cracked. It sounded like bone. With it, came creeping fingers of light, reaching towards her...

With all her strength, Nesta clamped down... until shadows ate away the approaching light and the room righted itself.

When she came to, Cassian was growling low in warning, his wings stretching as far as they could without hitting her square in the face. At who, Nesta did not know. Did not care for his territorial display when there were bigger matters to discuss.

“And why isn’t there protection?” she asked.

Nesta’s words were as cold as the chill in her veins. Rhys stilled, and with it, his magic trembled. The growl was still rumbling from low in Cassian’s chest — deeper even — and he sat forward, bracing his weight onto his thighs as if he were getting ready to launch himself at… someone. Nesta wasn’t sure who.

Feyre was still gripping Nesta’s hand tight, her grip firm enough to hurt. If Nesta had cast a look to her sister’s face, she would have seen that tell-tale glaze over Feyre’s eyes. It was the kind of far off look which told Nesta that her sister was speaking to her mate mind-to-mind. Or trying to, at least.

“Why was there no protection around each of the Illyrian camps given that there had already been two kerit attacks?” Nesta continued, ignoring the rumbling sound that had her heart wanting to beat that little bit faster. “I have seen the protective shields the fae used in war — around your City of Starlight. Why is that courtesy not extended to the Illyrian communities?”

A long, drawn out silence of star-kissed eternal and a whisper of ancient silver.

“I have offered protection numerous times to each of the war lords,” Rhys replied eventually, his voice too measured to be casual. “Each of them have turned it down. They see it as a criticism on their duty as warriors to protect and defend.”

Nesta’s snort was harsh but the hard quality to her eyes did not change. “They are stubborn Illyrian bats. Get them to change their minds. Or are you not their High Lord?”

A flicker of amusement passed across Azriel’s face, his shadows lightening the sharp, beautiful angles of his face. “Nesta is right,” he said, causing everyone to turn. “The war lords don’t have the luxury of turning down our help when it looks as if there will be more kerit attacks. There shouldn’t have been a gap in today’s patrol. Windhaven has always prided itself on its security — all the camps do. Have we found the soldiers who should have been patrolling the perimeter? I think it wise to consider that they may have been compromised by whoever tempted the kerits to the camps. Recruited, even. They could well be the males that flew over the mountain pass.”

“Nobody can find them,” Cassian growled. “We have males out looking for them as we speak. As soon as they are found we will interrogate them.”

“Cassian and I will interrogate,” Rhys told Azriel as a rare flicker of surprise fell across the shadowsinger's expression. “I need you to visit your most trusted contacts in the camps and tell them that we believe the attacks might not be random. We need all eyes and ears to the ground to find out as much as we can, not least to anticipate where the next attack might be.”

A tense nod, but Azriel folded into shadow and disappeared.

Cassian’s fists curled into fists on the tops of his thighs. “We need evidence. We cannot assume this is the rebellion without it.”

“Of course not,” Rhys admitted smoothly. “Which is why we need you to try and snuff out as much information as you can when you and Nesta go to the Solstice luncheon next week. Accept the offer to stay overnight.”

Nesta hadn’t thought Cassian’s expression could turn any stonier, but it did. “No.”

“The more time you spend at Ironcrest, the longer Nesta has to pick up any untoward emotion, especially surrounding conversation about the camps. It gives Frawley time to look and identify the origin of the sword, and it gives you and Lorrian time to pry out any information. Insist on you and Lorrian overseeing the aerial and ground units that next morning, it will ease away any suspicion. A trip there is long overdue but it is time to act on this rather than gathering information, which we have been doing up until now.”

Cassian blew out a long, steadying breath. Then he conceded, “With the Rite meeting been moved forward to that afternoon, it shouldn’t be hard to extend our stay."

Rhys nodded. “Good.” Then his violet eyes rested on Nesta. “You are willing to go with Cassian?”

A raised chin. Defiant. Strong. Despite the pain and exhaustion that wanted to pull her down, down, down. “Yes.”

“Then we have a plan,” Rhys said with another nod. “Azriel will continue to train you. If he is not available, I will travel to the camps and train you myself .”

At the edge of her periphery, Nesta saw Feyre’s eyes widen. In her stomach, Nesta felt Cassian’s surprise, a sensation which grew as Rhys said, “Welcome to the Court of Dreams, Nesta Archeron.”

***

By the time the meeting was over, Nesta was drained; her eyelids unbelievably heavy, her limbs aching. She desperately wanted to sleep, so she took the tincture Feyre brought her without comment and didn’t protest when Cassian carried her back to his bed rather than hers; agony fogged the rational part of her brain.

She was practically asleep as Cassian lay her onto his mattress. She felt his fingers coax hers away from where they were clutching his leathers. Blankets were pulled over her, the weight a comfort. A sedative was dripped into her mouth.

And then she slipped under.

When Nesta next woke, the taste was still bitter in her mouth but the room was dark; the light having receded even from the gap between the curtains.

In the armchair beside her bed was Feyre, her feet curled up beneath her and her freckled nose buried in Love in Velaris. A bobbing faelight hung overhead, willed by her sister’s magic. It illuminated the pages.

From the dent Feyre had made in the book, Nesta guessed she had been asleep for hours. Beyond the room, the bungalow sat still — the way it did when Cassian was not home — as if it too were sleeping, waiting for its owner to come back and breathe life into the rooms with his presence.

A few seconds passed until Feyre noticed that Nesta was awake. It gave Nesta enough time to catalogue the concern etched on her sister’s pale face; the tight expression which made Feyre’s sharp cheekbones even more prominent.

Nesta did not usually see the similarities between them, but now, as Feyre’s serious steel-blue eyes snapped up at the rustle of blankets, Nesta knew why others had said they looked alike.

“You’re awake.” Feyre spoke slowly — unsure — as she unfurled her long, lithe legs. When Nesta winced as she tried to get into a more comfortable position, Feyre jumped up and moved to the dresser. “Here,” she said, pouring some tincture onto a silver spoon.

Nesta hated the way she needed assistance to lift her head, but she allowed Feyre to do it in a rush of pear and lilac. Nesta was not proud enough to deny that she needed the tincture to smooth away the pain. And whilst the pain wasn’t as agonising as hours prior, it was deep-set enough for Nesta to consider whether she could persuade Feyre to allow her to swallow down the whole damn bottle.

After some water to chase down the foul taste, Feyre stepped back. “How are you feeling? Frawley seemed to think she could speed up the healing Madja did, but you were so sick…” Her sister trailed off, setting back to examine Nesta’s face. “You look a little less pale...”

“I’m fine,” Nesta said hoarsely.

Feyre opened her mouth and then closed it again, as if she were contemplating what best to say. The action annoyed Nesta. She wanted to be alone and quiet. To fall back asleep and wake when the pain was gone and she no longer felt helpless.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?” Nesta asked tiredly, turning her face to bury it into one of the pillows. It was a few seconds reprieve to calm the irritation that had started to hum through her.

Slowly, Nesta breathed in the scent of pine, musk and air that was so fierce Nesta felt as if she were almost a part of it. She had no doubt this was the pillow Cassian rested his head on. The scent soothed her, smoothing over that spiky, dangerous anger of hers to leave bone-lead weariness in its place.

“I wanted to be here,” Feyre told her. There was a subtle stubborn lift to her chin that Nesta knew Feyre had copied from her at a young age so many times that it had now become a part of who she was. “I wanted to look after you. To make sure that you were healing.”

“Well, I don’t need you to take care of me. You heard it yourself, I should be out of bed tomorrow. I just need to sleep.”

Nesta had intended to say it icily, but she was not well enough to muster the strength.

Feyre’s expression tightened, and for a moment, Nesta thought she might snap. But then she just straightened with determination; her tall, lean body rising to a height that called for attention. “Then let me say what I want to say and I will leave you alone.”

A long, stony silence and a blank, impenetrable mask that Nesta hoped with desperation conveyed the message she wanted to snap: Go away.

Instead, Feyre seated herself on the armchair and reached for Nesta’s ice-cold hand. “Nesta,” she started, the word practically a plea. “I know you and I - I know that our relationship has always been rocky. And you are right, there are many things that I hadn’t considered, not least when I sent you here. But… you almost died today and it’s made me realise what is important: I love you. I don’t think I’ve told you that before, but I always have. Even when we were younger and we were both so angry and bitter at our lot in life and we spent our days fighting. And I know you love me, too. Hiring someone to take you to the wall to find me told me that…”

Feyre let out a long, shaky breath and when she next spoke, her voice turned softer, dropping into a confession, “I forgave you and Elain a long time ago for when we were starving, Nesta. I want you to know that. I don’t — we were children. It was father that failed us, not you. I never saw it as your job to care for me and… I’m sorry that you were there when mother asked me to take care of you…. That must have been a horrible thing to overhear and… well, I would have felt resentment towards me, too, if I were you.”

More silence. Nesta would not allow herself to speak for the barbed words she knew would spill forth. About her sister’s mate and how whilst Nesta had tried to make amends, Rhysand’s obvious dislike of her had not disappeared with Feyre’s supposed forgiveness.

“I also want you to know that what you did in the war — you saved hundreds of lives. I know you witnessed unimaginable death and horror, but fae and humans are walking on Prythian because you struck down the male that promised to wreak havoc on our world. You did all of that and I never thought to thank you. And then I was so swept away by my duties as High Lady and recovering from Rhys’s near death that I did not give you the time I should have-”

Such careful tiptoeing around their father’s death. How Nesta had watched the life bleed out of his eyes, until they were nothing but glassy and wholly unconscious.

It was that which made Nesta cut her sister off. Even now, she had no desire to discuss his death. “I am not a burden you need to add to your list of priorities. I didn’t want your help. I explicitly told you to go away and instead you continued to force me to socialise when all I wanted was to be alone.”

Feyre let go of Nesta’s hand. Something akin to loss flashed through Nesta, piercing through the exhaustion and the pain in her abdomen.

“I think communication has always been an issue for us,” Feyre admitted, not backing down from the conversation. “I have spent time thinking over what you have said and you are right, I have not truly listened to you. But I was so scared for your safety I adopted drastic measures—”

“It is not your place to decide what is best for me,” Nesta said coldly. “I am not yours to command. And,” she continued with as much iciness as she could muster, “I do not think that an Illyrian camp is a place of safety.”

A deliberate pause to highlight how she were in bed suffering from major injuries.

“I thought if you were with Cassian that you would be protected,” Feyre said, her expression anguished. “I thought if anyone were to hold their own in an Illyrian camp it would be you. You are so strong, Nesta—”

“You thought a fae male could protect me when the protection I was promised by males has failed over and over again?” Nesta countered. “He is not even here all of the time. Sometimes he is away for days on end and I am left alone. You banished me to this awful place in front of an audience with no care for my feelings.”

But as Nesta spoke, something scrabbled in the back of her mind. Because it wasn’t fair to criticise Cassian for both leaving her and crowding her. Because Cassian had given her space and yet he had also been there, on the periphery if not right in front of her. Taunting her and encouraging her, but with so much space to grow. He had not made her train with him, dragging her spitting and screaming into the sparring ring. He had not thrown her out into the camp each morning and forced her to work or make friends. He had given her choices that she had more often than not denied over and over. And when she had done that, he had bought her more books or figured out the foods she liked to make the days a little less boring.

Cassian had not just protected her but allowed her to grow stronger. Had given her the space to decide for once in her life what she wanted to do and what she wanted to be. True, she might have been stuck in Windhaven, but she had never felt truly trapped. The skies made her feel unencumbered. The mud beneath her feet rendered her a part of nature rather than apart from it. The craggy mountains were a physical depiction of how Nesta was starting to see herself; sharp and angry but resilient and strong.

Outside the bungalow, Nesta heard the unmistakable crunch of boots in the snow. The low murmur of male voices floated through the bedroom window, which had been cracked open to circulate the stale air.

Feyre’s face crumpled in sudden irritation, and Nesta guessed that her mate had tried to speak mind-to-mind with her mid-conversation. From the way Feyre’s expression quickly cleared, Nesta got the impression she had banished Rhys completely or told him to go away.

The click of the magical lock from the front door rang through the bungalow, but Feyre’s attention was only on her. “Adjusting to the role of High Lady has been… a struggle,” her sister admitted. “Cassian, Rhys, Amren and Mor are my friends as well as my trusted advisors. But you are right, I spoke to you as a High Lady not as a sister when I told you to come here. I thought that using my new status would make you listen because my role as a sister had failed. It was a last resort and I knew… I knew that Cassian would look after you.”

Feyre stared up at the ceiling, as if the memory caused her pain. “As soon as you left I knew the way I had summoned you was wrong.” Feyre looked back to Nesta and sincerity swam in her eyes. “I did not consider that I had imprisoned you. I was selfishly only thinking of forcing you to be well.”

More silence.

Feyre got to her feet, her expression pained.

She waved a hand to the window, gesturing to the scenery outside. To the craggy mountains that stretched for miles and the sea beyond it. To the world that existed beyond Illyria. Beyond Prythian. “When you are healed, if you wish to leave Illyria you can. I don’t want you to feel imprisoned any longer.”

There was a finality to the words that rang true. Her sister meant them, even if it was obvious they caused her pain. Yet… Nesta did not want to leave. Not now, not when she had promised to attend the Solstice luncheon to see what they could discover about the sword and the kerit attacks. Not when the females here were so vulnerable. Now when they needed help rebuilding their community — to mourn for the losses that Nesta had vowed would not go unnoticed.

“I said I’d help, didn’t I?”

Feyre halted at the door.

“And your help is invaluable,” Feyre said slowly, “but you are not obligated to do it. So if you wish to leave, you can. Just… please tell someone before you do and let us know where you are going.”

Feyre looked weary and Nesta wondered if she had even bathed since everything that had happened. Her body was clean like Nesta’s… but her leathers were crumpled and her hair dishevelled. Nesta’s own body felt like it was covered in a film of oil and invisible dirt. Her skin itched at the thought and she longed for a bath, even though she knew she would not be able to manage it without more rest.

When Nesta closed her eyes, Feyre’s blood-streaked face swam into view. She remembered how Feyre had gripped her hand in the midst of battle and told Nesta to lead the way to the Eastern side of the camp, even though they were in the thick of danger. Her sister had not hesitated or balked. She had only been fierce and unwaveringly brave, ready to put her life on the line for those who needed protection.

For all of their problems, when the two of them had been fighting side by side, it was the first time that Nesta felt as if she truly belonged with her sister. For a brief moment in time, their issues and past mistakes had bled away, as if they were inconsequential.

“I’d love for us to start afresh,” Feyre continued quietly from her place at the door. “We have both made errors, but I do not care about yours. I hope that with time you might be able to forgive me, and if you do, I’d like to start over, you and I, with a blank slate.”

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@arin1030 @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @hatemecozuaintme @lovelynesta @melphss @nestalytical @nestable @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @sjm-things

#nessian #nessian angst #nessianfic #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #nestafic #cassianfic #cassian #acosf #acofas #acowar #acomaf #acotar #embersandlightfic

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writing-for-me-at-this-point · 4 years

Text

ii. Fun Facts About The Cast | Actor Au | Obey Me

Request: Its not, I love this AU tho

Word Count: 2303 words

Page Count: 6.5 pages

A.N. Hope you guys all like this! Fun facts about the cast lmao

[ Actor AU Masterlist ]

Fun Facts

Benjamin ( Lucifer )

- Is the dad of the cast.

- In any scenes with Dmitri ( Luke ), he makes sure to know if he is alright, and often will stop scenes to ask.

- He also is an overall joker, so he has trouble filming most of his scenes, will often start laughing in the middle of filming and can break character the easiest.

- Best with kids overall, probably due to having his own, keeps their lives private tho.

- His hair was white for a past show, but the directors liked the look, so that's why he has white tips.

- One of the few male characters who cannot do those diets to accentuate his abs- so that's why his character is always covered up.

- He's in shape! But, he likes the fat that protects his muscle, he says he needs to stay soft to hug his kids.

- Known diabetic, so there's a table full of foods so his sugars are stable, the cast has glucagon shots all over the sets to be safe.

- Is in his early thirties, but people say he can pull off early twenties- he just snorts at this.

Avery ( Mammon )

- Takes the job seriously, and his scenes are easiest to film.

- Dark humor and often is the "Lucifer" of the cast.

- Seeing him switch from Avery to Mammon leaves the rest of the cast and crew fucking s h o o k.

- Will always be seen looking his finest.

- No, no one has seen him in public in sweatpants or anything like that. His image is very serious.

- Is a sweetheart when with the rest of the cast tho.

- His eyes are actually that blue.

- No one is sure if his hair is actually white or not, the way he speaks about it is vague, and fans are always theorizing.

- Watching over Benji ( Lucifer ), and is usually the one to tell him to check his sugars, since the other is quite forgetful.

- Is an immigrant from Turkey, so he has an accent, makes people thirst for him more.

- Helps aspiring actors and directors get into the field, and goes on hard work and talent, not who tries to pay him off.

Jackson ( Leviathan )

- Is the resident fuckboi.

- Always with males and females hanging off him, at this point the pop gave up, no- they aren't his partner.

- Flexes a shit ton.

- Wearing chains, a Rolex, and anything designer.

- Donates half of his salary to ocean reserves and protection funds, he has the money for it, and the show pays him well.

- Always at the beach, or near lake houses and shit, the one ( 1 ) thing he likes about his character.

- Hates the fringe he wears with a passion.

- His hair is actually a light shade of brown, his eyes are a darker shade, but still pretty light.

- First generation, his parents are Korean, so you can pick up hints of their accent in his speech patterns. Gets heavy when he's sleepy.

Ross ( Satan )

- Is a stoner.

- Goes on Instagram lives with either MC and gets high, talking about the dumbest shit or he's alone in his room and his cats join in.

- "So, if you think about- oH MY GOD PRINCESS. YES, COME TO DADDY."

- Has a kitten curled up on him, purrs loud as hell because mf is so warm, and the lives turn into purring ASMR sessions.

- Into self care, has a line of vitamins, face masks, and everything you can think of.

- Calls his fans his SaStans.

- Dmitri ( Luke ) is his younger brother.

- Will never let him out of his sight, and they love to be as mean as they can to each other, they love each other but love to bully one another.

- Is from the Bronx, so his accent is what Avery ( Mammon ) mimics for his character, often just records Avery's lines and sends them to him so he can practice.

- Owns an animal shelter he funds.

- "Carol Baskin? Who's that?"

- The REAL tiger king.

- Gets all his cats dyed to look like tigers.

Micheal ( Asmodeus )

- Chill as fuck.

- Has like 5+ kids, so the role fits him perfectly, and now it's an on running joke among fans that they are all his illegitimate children.

- You know why Asmodeus on the show wears so much makeup?

- His eldest daughter is one of the makeup artists, and she loves to try new looks on him, and the producers think it would fit the character well.

- People speculate his age, looks young but is in his late 30's.

- His first child was born when he was 16, so he likes to support safe heavens and things like that for struggling youths- from being kicked out to needing assistance with mental health.

- Tired af.

- Always in sweatpants, him and Ross ( Satan ) are the trademark bums of the cast.

- Thinks it would be hilarious that when Micheal is revealed, in the show, that he plays the character.

- Is a writer as well, TSL is a real series and he writes it, so they let him use it in the show.

- Vlogs in his car, in a Wendy's parking lot, eating a shit ton of food and talking about the most random shit.

- Half asleep in all interviews, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, it's gotten to the point where everyone memes it too.

James ( Beelzebub )

- Himbo.

- One of the few cast members closest to their character.

- Absolute sweetheart.

- He's 20 years old.

- But how is he so fucking big???

- Comes from a big ass family, the middle child, he's baby 4 out of 9.

- All his siblings are redheads too.

- Very playful tho, with the cast always going along with his antics, making for the best bloopers.

- The contacts he wears make him blind af, which doesn't help since he's so tall, and will bump his head on the doorways and such.

- Can speak Scottish-Gaelic, and even has an accent to top it off.

- He is an absolute unit, and one of the characters who does the stupid diet to show off his form.

- Literally on the verge of passing out sometimes, so he needs to rest with Benjamin ( Lucifer ).

- All pictures, shirtless scenes, and such are filmed first so he can rest after and go back to a normal diet.

- Quiet guy, but loves talking about sports and his siblings tho.

- Is always carrying MC and Dmitri ( Luke ) around, now there are many off-guard photos posted to the casts shared twitter+instagram accounts

- Still pretty new to acting, but is amazing at emotional scenes, to the point fans actually think he's having a breakdown.

- Nah, he's just thinking about being alone, without his family- and it gets him bawling for said scenes.

Conner ( Belphegor )

- Crackhead

- Will not stay still, either for filming or just when everyone is chilling.

- Scenes where he's asleep? He's usually turned away from the camera, cause the idiot is smiling and giggling.

- Has tripped over his tail multiple times.

- Comes from a farm-life, literal cowboy, his southern accent just hits hard.

- He hides it very well, but it comes out at times or with certain words.

- Sees Benjamin ( Lucifer ) as a mentor, he's in his early twenties and new to the scene, but they are best friends.

- Benjamin ( Lucifer ) has now acquired a new child.

- A living meme.

- You know how Tom Holland can't keep a secret?

- Yeah, he's worse.

- Rest of the cast have all had to physically stop him from talking at one point.

- The cow pillow? It's actually his, when he got the role his father has sewn it himself, so he will bring it with him.

- It's basically free promo for the show and comforts him in the city space.

- Gets overwhelmed in large crowds, so he usually makes sure to have another cast member close by, or he will literally leave to a less crowded place to take a breath.

- Apologized to MC after the scene in which he kills them.

- His mama raised him right, so he takes MC to his house for a movie, in which they cuddle and relax for the night.

- Felt really bad for like... a whole week.

- "Country boy I love you~"

Thomas ( Barbatos )

- Brat.

- This is one cocky man, he's smooth as hell, and one whisper can make you weak in the knees.

- Grew out the one side of his hair, but he slicks his hair back or will pin it back, dyes it himself when it's time to film.

- Loves to piss Alex ( Simeon ) off.

- Has a true crime podcast with Roman ( Diavolo ), Alex ( Simeon ), and Benjamin ( Lucifer ), because they're all old friends.

- Donates to the cold case foundation because he knows what it's like to lose someone and not know what happened to them.

- He has a twin who is his stunt double, they love to fuck with the rest of the cast, both of them are little shits.

- Is the motherfucker who makes a channel and reads the crackhead fanfics

- Loves every word of it tho.

- Responds to every fans dms. Every. One. As a whole account for this shit.

- Walks with a bit of a limp, so he wears a brace to help even himself, but during wide-shot scenes you can catch it sometimes.

- Took actual classes to be a butler for the role.

Roman ( Diavolo )

- Himbo 2.0

- Catch this man tweeting what he's trying to search up at 2 in the morning.

- Leaves them because it's hilarious, makes videos where he reads them out sometimes, it's all in good fun.

- He has a set of triplets at home, so that dad energy radiates into the show too.

- You know how Diavolo seems sus at points of the game? Yeah, he's still like that IRL.

- The rest of the cast was put off at first, but that's how he is, and everyone eased up pretty quickly.

- Makes jokes that he has family in the Italian mob, but needed to stop once his father called him, saying that there were too many eyes on the family now.

- Man was s h o o k.

- Has sensitive skin, so all his makeup and body paints need to be specially made, made with all natural products.

- The bags under his eyes are baby bags.

- Will bring his kids on set, to which everyone will gush over, and watch them when they aren't filming.

- Very private with his kids ( to the public ), doesn't post about them much, and only the cast really sees them.

- Wine dad.

- Catch him bringing the whole cast out for "family trips"

- People nicknamed him Caesar

- So many JoJo references now

- "SHHHHIIIIIZZZAAAAAAAA"

- "Please, no."

Dmitri ( Luke )

- Is actually 12.

- Quotes vines, tiktoks, and other memes.

- Is one of the few people that Alex ( Simeon ) is openly nice too.

- Also has an accent, but since he's young and is learning, can now mimic every other cast member's accent.

- Wear earplugs for certain scenes, because of how raunchy and dark the scenes can get, so Simeon and Barbatos are always conveniently in the way, hiding the plugs.

- Is Ross' ( Satan ) younger brother, and if he isn't hanging off of him he's with James ( Beelzebub ), Benjamin ( Lucifer ), or MC.

- They know there are some sick fucks in Hollywood so he has an adult with him at all times.

- Posts pictures of him cuddling up to his brother and the kittens, new foods he is trying, and some pictures with family.

- He often is considered the new Gordon Ramsay.

- Had a collaboration with him.

- It was amazing.

- Best boy, catch him taking a nap in his ( and Ross' ) trailer, surrounded by tiger kittens.

- The TIGER PRINCE.

Alex ( Simeon )

- Avatar of wrath who?

- The embodiment of "No talk me, I angy"

- Jkjk, though he does have a temper, he only loses it with Benjamin ( Lucifer ), Roman ( Diavolo ), and Thomas ( Barbatos ).

- A sweetheart with all children though, like you know Simeon on the show?

- Yeah, he's only like that with kids.

- And respectable adults.

- Mama raised him well 2.0

- Grew up in NY

- Born in Gucci and Balenciaga.

- Was a child model and slowly expanded to acting.

- Dark humor galore.

- If Simeon met Alex, he'd probably have a stroke, cause THOSE WORDS are coming out of HIS mouth.

- Says the weirdest shit too.

- "Put your hand on my ass and call me a virgin."

- Bro are you okay???

- He is fluent in five languages and has a high IQ.

- Speaks: English, French, Italian, Arabic, and Mandarin

- Has a support system for children who struggle to learn conventionally, with trained tutors who are affordable, he knows what it's like to need certain needs met to learn, and he wants every kid to get that chance.

- Rough around the edges but has a heart of gold.

Derek ( Solomon )

- Loves to smoke with Ross ( Satan )

- He is more aloof than chill.

- One of the more awkward members, doesn't know how to socialize well, and is very shy.

- Watch out for Dmitri ( Luke ) on the down low.

- Didn't have the best life growing up, so he is a lot more street smart than book smart.

- Doesn't have a big social media influence.

- Very nice to fans, gives full hugs to them, and everyone feels so appreciated.

- Has a husky named Blue.

- Also has an owl, who he took in when he found it on his porch with a broken wing, and nursed it to health.

- He set it free, but she comes back often, and has a nest in the tree closest to his house.

- Named her Lovely.

- Animal person, so he helps Ross out with his animal shelters.

- Uses Blue as a living pillow, and only sleeps in his boxers when Blue is on his bed, because goddamn does that dog radiate heat.

- Him and MC live together, having grown up together, and made their livings together.

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