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wandanatsthings · 6 months

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𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐏𝐭 𝟐

Hey guys I'm so sorry this took so long to get out I hope you all haven’t lost interest lol. I wanted to take my time with this one because I just felt like my writing could be a lot better and I really feel like with this little one-shot or imagine or whatever you call it it has improved and I’d rather you guys wait a while for a more well written piece than to most more frequent and it be shit but anyways I hope you enjoy this I kinda just went all over the place with it so please let me know what you think.

"Not Enough pt 1

Disclaimer: I used “A few weeks” a lot to measure time in this but to give a little bit of an idea it’s been a few months since Piet died (so like 5 months) and like 3 months maybe since reader and Wanda broke up. Also the age gap between Nat and Wanda is like 5 years. I cannot remember if I mentioned that or not. Okie I think that's it.

P.S: I love it when you guys comment so if ya wanna I’d love to read them and If you have any questions about this fic like my thought process while writing please ask them!!

Warnings: Mentions past character death, grief, cheating, mentions of sex but not descriptive, angst, mental illness, break downs, lying. I think that’s please let me know if you see anymore.

Relationships: WandaxNatasha, Wanda/ reader, platonic Bruce x Natasha, Platonic Bruce x Wanda

Summary: Not Enough Pt 2

Word count: 4.1k (My longest fic as of rn)

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

Y/N Pov

It had been a few weeks since you and Wanda broke up. You had moved all of your stuff out of your shared room into a guess not being able to stand being in there after everything that had happened.

You weren't doing well. You couldn't sleep, you couldn't eat, all you could think about was Wanda.

All you wanted was her. It was still hard for you to grasp. You couldn't believe she had cheated. It still just didn’t seem like something she would do. Your sweet Wanda. The one who always made sure you knew how much she loved you no matter what.

The Wanda that never let you both go to bed angry, The one that would always tell you she loved you before going to sleep, Or on the rare occasions when you left the house without one another. So to say you were distraught that she did something like this was an understatement.

Either way, you didn’t want to see her. You had been avoiding her at all costs. You were doing a good job until you saw her in the common area of the compound hanging out with Natasha.

You had mixed feelings about the woman.

Yes, she was the woman that your girlfriend had cheated on you with, but you felt there was something off.

Natasha was a bit older than Wanda, not by much, only 5 years but still, you couldn’t help but think maybe the older woman had taken advantage of Wanda’s vulnerable state.

You didn't put much thought into it though.

you decided that you were no longer interested in hanging out in the common room after spotting the couple. In a hurry, you turned and went back to your room, completely oblivious to the fact that the younger redhead had noticed you. You missed the longing and regretful look that she had in her eyes.

Wanda’s Pov

I watched you as you went back to what I assumed to be your room. Even though I was the one to break up with you. I missed you, being with Natasha was no longer making me as happy as I thought. Especially after I found out she had lied to me about what happened during the mission when Pietro died.

It was a few weeks before You and I had broken up when she approached me in the kitchen after not leaving what was our shared bedroom for days.

FLASHBACK (of Natasha telling what “Happened”)

We had just finished watching my favorite sitcom, which Pietro and I used to watch all the time. You were doing everything you could to make me feel better, and even though I might not have been showing it, you were helping. I had finally felt well enough to sit in the kitchen for a while and have a snack, which was something I had been struggling to do. So Progress was being made.

As I was eating my snack of apples and peanut butter, Natasha approached me. We didn't talk often, but we weren't strangers to each other. I was quite fond of the fellow avenger. "Hey, how are you doing?" she asked as she took a seat next to me. "I'm doing better," I replied, smiling slightly, looking up at her.

"That's good. And how are you and y/n doing?" I found it odd that she was asking about our relationship, but I answered her anyway. "Um, I mean we're okay. We could be doing better, but considering the circumstances, I'd say we're doing pretty well," I said wearily. She looked at me and nodded.

"That's good. Knowing she killed your brother and all." she claimed with what I now know to be a look of “evil” on her face. What she said shocked me.

“Wait what? What are you talking about y/n didn’t kill him? It was an accident, she told me what happened.” I replied getting defensive not liking what she was trying to accuse you of.

“Yeah, but I saw it. Whatever she told you is a lie.”

“Well, what did you see?” I asked, curious to know what she had seen.

She then goes on to tell me how she saw you and Pietro that day in the field fighting bots. For the most part, she told me the same thing you did. Until she added the part where you started fighting each other. “And then they just started fighting each other, I don’t know why. Maybe Y/n got hit in the head or something and started to think that Piet was one of the bots. He tried to knock some sense into her but it just didn’t work and eventually, she pulled out her gun and shot him. I guessed he just wasn’t quick enough to dodge it.” She revealed.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Oh my goodness, Why wouldn't she tell me that? Why would she lie?” I cried looking for some sort of answers.

“I mean I don't know, think about it. Would you want to tell your girlfriend you killed her brother?”

What she said made sense to me, I could understand why you wouldn’t tell me but that wasn’t the relationship we had created. We were always very honest with each other from the beginning no matter what the circumstances were.

Heartbroken with the new knowledge I had just learned I still had one question.

“What were you doing? Why didn’t you stop them or help? Or something?” I desperately questioned.

Natasha shuffled in her seat a little before she answered me.

“I tried but I was busy fighting and helping get civilians to safety myself.”

I nodded at that understanding her reasoning.

END FLASHBACK

After our talk that day we continued getting to know each other more and more and I was drawing myself farther and farther away from you. I did feel bad about it but not bad enough to stop. I wanted you to feel the same pain that I felt when I thought you lied about what happened.

It wasn't until a few days after we broke up that Natasha's true colors started to show.

At the beginning of our relationship, Natasha tried to make me happy in her own way, much like you did. However, while you focused on letting me know that it was okay to feel my emotions and cry, Natasha often brushed me off and tried to distract me with sex. When I declined, saying that I wasn't in the mood, she would get irritable and act off for the rest of the day.

That’s what happened the day I found out that you were telling the truth about what happened during the mission.

FLASHBACK

I was having a bad day, which was as expected every once in a while. I knew some would be harder than others, but I had been improving and not struggling with basic tasks every day, today was an exception though.

All I wanted to do was stay in bed and watch the old sitcoms Piet and I used to but Natasha wasn’t having that.

All she wanted to do was have a beep. She kept begging me all day and getting pissy every time I would say no.

I was getting tired of it so I thought as a distraction now would be a good time to finally get my mission report done for that mission.

I had been given some grace given everything that happened but I wasn’t excluded completely.

I made my way down the hall to the conference room where everyone does their mission reports or papers of the same sort.

When I got there I saw a few pens and other unfinished reports scattered on the rectangular wooden table. I was going to let them be until I saw Natasha's report sitting there among the others. Curious about what she had written, I decided to read it.

Reading other people's reports wasn't forbidden but it was considered as an invasion of privacy, so I knew I shouldn't do it but I just couldn't help myself for some reason.

While I was reading the report, I realized that some information was missing.

None of the things she had told me that day were mentioned in the report. I was sure that it wasn't because she had not finished it yet. She never left the room until it was completed, and I knew that she would never lie in a report. That only meant one thing.

she had lied to me.

I was confused as to why she would lie to me, knowing that it would break us up. I knew the only way to know the truth was to ask her. So, I left the room with her report in my hands, forgetting about my report that needed to be completed.

I headed towards the training room, knowing that's where she would be. Before I approached her, I hid her report behind my back, not wanting her to know that I had read it just yet.

When I walked in, she was bench pressing. "Hey, can we talk?" I asked with urgency. "Can it wait? I'm in the middle of a set," she said, breathing hard. "No, it needs to be now, it's important," I replied, losing my patience.

She re-racked the bar, sat up, and wiped the sweat from her face. "What's up?" I took a deep breath and tried to remain calm, not wanting to cause a scene. "Can you tell me what happened that day on the mission when Piet died again?" She looked at me and rolled her eyes. "I've already told you what happened, why do you want to keep hearing it?" She asked, sounding annoyed. "Because I just want to know the truth," I replied. "Well, I already told you the truth," she answered. I nodded, "That's funny, so what would this be then?" I asked as I pulled the mission report out from behind my back.

The look on her face was priceless," I thought to myself. "Where did you find that?" she asked with a look of guilt on her face. "It doesn't matter where I found it, what matters is why you lied to me!" I cried, hitting her chest with my hands.

She gently grabbed my hands to stop my attack and took a deep breath before explaining something I never thought would be her reasoning. "I lied because I wanted to break the two of you up. You both seemed so happy, even with everything, and I wanted to experience that for myself. I wanted to feel special. And I knew that if I lied, you would believe me because people who are grieving are more likely to believe a lie than people who are not."

I was shocked by what I heard and even more so to see her crying, something I had never seen her do in the year I had been living here. Even though what she did was severely messed up, I could understand why she would do it. We had similar life experiences, and in our lifestyle, what you and I had was rare.

While I could understand, I was still very upset that she would even do something like that and that I would even believe you would lie to me. All that was on my mind at this moment was you. I had to get to you and explain everything, even if you didn’t believe me and never wanted to speak with me again. It was important to me that you knew the truth.

“I have to go,” I sobbed, taking my hands out of her embrace. “I need to explain everything to y/n.” However, that thought was short-lived.

“No, NO! Please don’t leave me,” she begged as she walked me back into a wall. “I need you. I'll do better at anything. Everything, just please don’t leave me.”

I could feel her emotions through me, and they almost became too much. It felt so weird to see her like this. One of the most powerful Avengers, who I looked up to, was begging me on her knees to stay with her. It showed how you could have everything in the world, but if you didn’t have anyone to love or be loved by, you were absolutely nothing.

Feeling for her I decide to comfort her now and talk about everything else later. “Okay, okay I'll stay, I won’t leave I promise.”

END FLASHBACK

"I had been dealing with this for a couple of weeks.

Whenever I confronted her, she would break down and plead with me not to leave her. But after seeing the sorrowful look in your eyes as you walked past the common room, I couldn't bear the thought of you not knowing what happened any longer. So, I decided to talk to you. I got up, leaving Natasha sitting on the couch, and told her that I was going to the bathroom.

As I made my way to your room, I could feel my heart beating loudly in my chest, and my hands were sweaty. When I arrived, I took a deep breath and knocked on your door."

Y/n Pov

I had just returned to my room when I heard a knock at my door. Even though I didn't feel like being bothered, I had to get up and answer it. To my surprise, Wanda was standing there, looking anxious. I was unsure of what she wanted, and even though I didn't particularly want to see her, it was nice to have her there. However, I didn't want to reveal that to her.

“Um, hi. What do you want?" I asked, curious about why she had come to my room. She looked down at her hands and fiddled with her fingers, a nervous habit of hers that I had always found endearing. Smiling at the memory, I waited for her response. "Hi, I was wondering if we could talk?" she finally replied, her voice shaking a little. "Why now? You haven't wanted to talk all this time, what's changed?" I asked, confused by her sudden request. "I know, but I need to speak with you. If after you hear me out, you don't want to speak to me again, I completely understand. I'll leave you alone. But please, I need you to hear me out," she pleaded, taking hold of my hands.

I decided to hear her out and stepped aside to let her in. As she passed by me, I caught a whiff of her flowery perfume and took a deep breath, remembering how her scent used to linger on my pillowcases. I gestured towards the chair in the corner for her to sit while I took the end of my bed. We sat in silence for a while until she finally spoke.

Wanda’s Pov

I was lucky enough to have you let me in. Now, it was time for me to tell you everything. I was so nervous. Despite having rehearsed everything that I wanted to say, I found myself at a loss for words now that I finally had the chance to.

Eventually, I decided to recount everything that had happened from the very beginning. I started with how Natasha approached me in the kitchen, and then to describe how she treated me and how I found out that she had lied, along with the reason behind it. I was afraid to hear what you would say.

"That’s everything that happened. I know that nothing can excuse what I did to you, but I need you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said to you that day when I told you that you weren't enough. It wasn't true, and I regret believing her instead of you. I know there's probably nothing I can say to fix this, but I just need you to know that." I said with tears in my eyes.

You looked at me with an expression that I couldn’t read. What you did next surprised me though.

Y/n Pov

After hearing everything you had to say. I felt as if everything made sense. I was saddened to know that my assumption from earlier about the older woman had been mostly correct but glad to know that the woman whom I fell in love with was exactly who I thought she was. My sweet Wanda.

I got up and walked over to the chair she was sitting in and took her face in my hands. Whipping away some of the tears that had fallen from her green orbits. I looked into her eyes and said, “I forgive you.” By the look on her face, I could tell she wasn’t expecting that she quickly jumped up and wrapped her arms around my neck.

I creased her back as I felt her body shake with sobs. I continued to whisper sweet nothings in her ear to calm her down. After a few moments, she was calm enough to have a conversation and I had some questions to ask her.

“I have some questions to ask you but first I want you to know that I’m glad you told me everything and that I don’t want you to blame yourself for what happened. Anyone would’ve been vulnerable and confused in your situation. You did the best that you could and I’m so proud of you for how far you’ve come since a few months ago and I want you to know what she did to you is not okay.” I didn’t expect a vocal reply out of her, however, I did feel her nuzzle her nose into my neck.

I continued with my little speech. “Now time for the questions,” I said while taking her chin in my hands to get her to look at me. “Did she ever force you to do anything you didn’t want to? You can just nod your head yes or no.” I asked, raising my eyebrow so she would know what I was implying. I see her shake her head at me. “Okay good, that’s good. Do you know what you want to do yet?”

She moved out of my embrace a little to sit up so she could answer. “Yes, I don’t want to be with her anymore but every time I try to have a conversation with her she breaks down like she did in the gym.” She cried. I thought for a few seconds before I answered her. “I have an idea but it’s going to be a lot, are you up for it?” She looked up at me and nodded.

Over the next few days, we talked over and over about what would be the best way to go about it. When we finally got it it was time to execute it.

Wanda’s Pov

Your plan had been brilliant, It was the best thing for everyone involved although not to get hurt but that still didn’t make this any easier. Even after everything that Natasha had done I still cared for the woman but this was the best thing for her. All I had to do was get her to Bruce and he would pretty much do the rest since you had caught him up on everything that had happened. Natasha was sitting in the kitchen drinking a protein shake when I approached her. “Hey, Tasha, I was wondering if you would come down to the lab with me. I need to grab something from Tony. He said it was something about “New and improved armor.” I asked, leaning against the counter trying to not show my nerves. “Yeah sure I'll come with you.” She answered, grabbing her protein drink off the counter to take with her.

When we got to the lab she opened the door for me. I walked in and my eyes met with Bruce. I searched his emotionless eyes with my nervous ones hoping that he could give me some kind of reassurance that this was the right thing to do.

As we walked in farther Bruce walked up to us with a blank look on his face. Natasha was the first one to speak. “Hey, Bruce. Tony said he had some new armor for Wanda?” I grabbed her hand to get her to look at me thinking I should be the one to break the news. “Um, actually Nat we’re not here for that, Bruce wanted to speak with you,” I explained gently, trying to keep her as calm as possible. “Speak to me? Speak to me about what?”

She was a little cautious about what was going on. I looked to Bruce for help, thinking he would know how to answer her better than I would. “I just want to talk, you know, checking in with how you're doing.” He answered her. “Well, I’m doing fine. I need to know what this is about and I need to know now.”

Not wanting to upset her more than I already have, I decided to just tell her. “Listen,” I said, taking her hands in mine. “I want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with accepting help. Even the strongest people fall sometimes.” She looked at me with worry in her voice and asked. “I- I what are you talking about?” “I spoke with him about what you told me in the gym and about everything,” I replied, almost holding my breath. I worried about what the outcome of this would be. “And he thinks that he has some things that can help you.” She looked at me with wide eyes before stating. “What I’m not crazy…I’m not crazy.” I quickly reassured her and said, “No one said you are not like I said it's okay to need help sometimes,” hoping that she would understand.

It seemed like she did as she took a deep breath and surprisingly agreed to hear Bruce out as long as I sat there and listened with her, I agreed to do that seeing as I did just surprise her out of nowhere with this. After we listened to Bruce talk about what would be her treatment plan. She seemed to be more comfortable with the idea.

When we were walking out of the lab she stopped. I turned around to see what was the hold up when she said something that I wasn’t expecting. “I’m sorry for what I did, Really sorry.” She said looking down at her feet. “And I want you to be happy, You deserve to be happy and I know that you aren’t that with me but you were with y/n and if you need me to explain everything to her I will but you deserve to be happy and be with someone who is just as amazing as you are.” She continued this time looking me in the eyes. I was shocked as to what I was hearing but not wanting to leave her hanging I replied. “Thank you for apologizing and I accept your apology. I do not need you to talk to Y/n but I do appreciate the gesture.” She nodded at me. “So I guess this is it?” You looked at her and gave a sad smile. “Yes it is, but I will be here if you need to talk and I want to be updated on how your treatment is going.” She smiled back at you and replied “I will keep you updated. Bye, Wanda.” “Goodbye,” I said as I walked away from her feeling sad but excited to go and see you.

When I finally found you, you were in your room reading some book that I couldn't see the name of. I ran into the room and jumped on your bed. You giggled and put the book down, then said, “I'm guessing it went well?” I nodded my head, smiling. “It went a lot better than I was expecting. Your plan worked,” I said. You looked at me, smiling, “I told you it would,” you said while scooting over to make room for me. As I was getting comfortable, I felt you staring at me. I looked up at you and asked, “What?” You blushed and replied, “Nothing, you're just really beautiful.” I surprised myself and started leaning up to kiss you. I went slow, not the perfect knowing if you were ready yet, but letting you know that I was. I soon knew that you were when I felt your lips on mine. I smiled softly as I broke away from the kiss. I then snuggled up in your arms, not certain of what we were in the moment, but sure of one thing: you are enough for me.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

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wands-natsthing · 8 days

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Not Enough Pt2

This story was on my old acct @wandanatsthings I made a new one (aka this one) which will be the acct I use from now on.

"Not Enough pt 1

P.S: I love it when you guys comment so if ya wanna I’d love to read them and If you have any questions about this fic like my thought process while writing please ask them!!

Warnings: Mentions past character death, grief, cheating, mentions of sex but not descriptive, angst, mental illness, break downs, lying. I think that’s please let me know if you see anymore.

Relationships: WandaxNatasha, Wanda/ reader, platonic Bruce x Natasha, Platonic Bruce x Wanda

Summary: Not Enough Pt 2

Word count: 4.1k (My longest fic as of rn)

Y/N Pov

It had been a few weeks since you and Wanda broke up. You had moved all of your stuff out of your shared room into a guess not being able to stand being in there after everything that had happened.

You weren't doing well. You couldn't sleep, you couldn't eat, all you could think about was Wanda.

Either way, you didn’t want to see her. You had been avoiding her at all costs. You were doing a good job until you saw her in the common area of the compound hanging out with Natasha.

You had mixed feelings about the woman.

Yes, she was the woman that your girlfriend had cheated on you with, but you felt there was something off.

Natasha was a bit older than Wanda, not by much, only 5 years but still, you couldn’t help but think maybe the older woman had taken advantage of Wanda’s vulnerable state.

You didn't put much thought into it though.

Wanda’s Pov

It was a few weeks before You and I had broken up when she approached me in the kitchen after not leaving what was our shared bedroom for days.

FLASHBACK (of Natasha telling what “Happened”)

"That's good. Knowing she killed your brother and all." she claimed with what I now know to be a look of “evil” on her face. What she said shocked me.

“Wait what? What are you talking about y/n didn’t kill him? It was an accident, she told me what happened.” I replied getting defensive not liking what she was trying to accuse you of.

“Yeah, but I saw it. Whatever she told you is a lie.”

“Well, what did you see?” I asked, curious to know what she had seen.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Oh my goodness, Why wouldn't she tell me that? Why would she lie?” I cried looking for some sort of answers.

“I mean I don't know, think about it. Would you want to tell your girlfriend you killed her brother?”

Heartbroken with the new knowledge I had just learned I still had one question.

“What were you doing? Why didn’t you stop them or help? Or something?” I desperately questioned.

Natasha shuffled in her seat a little before she answered me.

“I tried but I was busy fighting and helping get civilians to safety myself.”

I nodded at that understanding her reasoning.

END FLASHBACK

It wasn't until a few days after we broke up that Natasha's true colors started to show.

That’s what happened the day I found out that you were telling the truth about what happened during the mission.

FLASHBACK

All I wanted to do was stay in bed and watch the old sitcoms Piet and I used to but Natasha wasn’t having that.

All she wanted to do was have a beep. She kept begging me all day and getting pissy every time I would say no.

I was getting tired of it so I thought as a distraction now would be a good time to finally get my mission report done for that mission.

I had been given some grace given everything that happened but I wasn’t excluded completely.

I made my way down the hall to the conference room where everyone does their mission reports or papers of the same sort.

Reading other people's reports wasn't forbidden but it was considered as an invasion of privacy, so I knew I shouldn't do it but I just couldn't help myself for some reason.

While I was reading the report, I realized that some information was missing.

she had lied to me.

I headed towards the training room, knowing that's where she would be. Before I approached her, I hid her report behind my back, not wanting her to know that I had read it just yet.

“I have to go,” I sobbed, taking my hands out of her embrace. “I need to explain everything to y/n.” However, that thought was short-lived.

“No, NO! Please don’t leave me,” she begged as she walked me back into a wall. “I need you. I'll do better at anything. Everything, just please don’t leave me.”

Feeling for her I decide to comfort her now and talk about everything else later. “Okay, okay I'll stay, I won’t leave I promise.”

END FLASHBACK

"I had been dealing with this for a couple of weeks.

As I made my way to your room, I could feel my heart beating loudly in my chest, and my hands were sweaty. When I arrived, I took a deep breath and knocked on your door."

Y/n Pov

Wanda’s Pov

You looked at me with an expression that I couldn’t read. What you did next surprised me though.

Y/n Pov

Over the next few days, we talked over and over about what would be the best way to go about it. When we finally got it it was time to execute it.

Wanda’s Pov

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

Feedback is absolutely loved!!!

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achaotichuman · 3 months

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Hii!! Wolf's here! I'm happy you liked the little snippet! Then, once I'm done writing it, I'll send you the first chapter! ♥

Other than my story (thank you again for letting me ramble about it to you! ♥) I'm here because I saw the post you replied about Nyx getting Feyre's power or not, and I would say (If only SJM was consistent in her writing…) that he shouldn't at all gain anything from Feyre's, because her powers are what (at least it seemed so to me) keeps her alive: it's what brought her back from death and as a Fae.

She only has a drop of the powers of the courts and I don't think it's something she can really give away (voluntarily or involuntarily), and can I say that it seems that Nyx is like a copy and paste of Rhysand? Sjm says that the bonding happens for the perfect partner for reproduction (I hate it, really hate it, like do you hear whatttttt are you sayiiing) but it doesn't even make sense? Because Feyre was human, who can say if she would've ever become Fae (especially in the way she did) unless the cauldron saw in the future or he knew about it OR Rhysand lied and he wasn't mate with her since she was human, bc it wouldn't make sense.

No one of the actual existent mates/bonds make sense (no, scratch that, Lucien and Elain can make sense lol, but watch Sjm ruin them, I just know she will one way or another) like: why Nesta and Cassian? It would've have make more sense (with SJM logic) to pair her and Rhysand together, to make them mates.

Because Feyre was not made from the cauldron, she has no blessing from the Mother, she is bound to all courts and to none at the same time.

Her magic responds to her, because the ones who give it to her are alive and so her source of power is sustained.

New theory incoming: yes, she has a drop of each HL, but what if the drop still needs the source of it to actually function? Their powers where made a part of her to let her be reborn into a Fae and she's bound to them in a sense, and at the same time she isn't (like when in the Summer court she used the speckle of it to enter, but the book recognized she WASN'T the HL of Summer, so drown now kind of thing)

Not to count that a drop can still be extinguished because maybe it still needs to be sustained by its source, but it can't take more than what it was given.

Maybe it's the (one of the) reasons why Rhysand doesn't want Tamlin to actually die? Because if he dies the link will be broken, because the new HL wasn't the one to grant Feyre her life, so the "bargain/sacrifice" wouldn't sustain and she will lose the Spring powers?

What if the death of the other HL means her death too? OR what if killing them and absorbing their power leads to her total destruction? Because she would become all of the courts, feels everything of their suffering and joy and it would be too much to bear.

Mhm, it's food for the thought for sure, ahaha

Still, on the matter of Nyx: it would be bonkers if he did get something of the powers of the other courts because it wouldn't make any sense. Like, at all.

And I doubt he could then be considered as a real heir of the Night, if Rhysand would happen to die (lol) I doubt the magic would rush to him, when he's "contaminated" (he belongs to it, but also not, too many links to bear) by the other ones. Just some theories, ahaha

Sorry for the ranting! I hope you're having a good day and/or night! ♥

Hi Wolf!!!

OOOOOhhh I love the theories about Feyre's powers here!!

One theory I briefly explored was in a crackfic I wrote about if Feyre and Tamlin shapeshifted and Feyre impregnated Tamlin before she left for Night (lol) but obviously I made it way more complicated than it needed to be. And I wrote about Hybern 'absorbing' Feyre's magic, and this not just reverted her to human but reversed the healing the High lord's magic gave her, so she died once more.

I think it would be super cool to explore Feyre being magically soul bonded to each court, and without the magic of each High lord in particular she would die.

I think in theory what would make Nyx having Feyre's powers make sense is if Feyre being given the High lord's powers healed her body and a side effect from being healed from each Court was the gift of their magic, but even that doesnt really make much sense, its never really been explored cause I think SJM just doesnt think of it lol. But I like your idea more.

For Nyx, I am half certain he only exists in the story as 1- A plot device for Nesta, 2- Because SJM had a son and wanted to give Rhysand one as well. I think he is literally just meant to be another marketable aspect of the books as this is what SJM does a lot.

Her characters in ACOTAR are weirdly empty, with no real hobbies or interests, their personalities are cardboard cutouts of stereotypes for these kinds of men, and I truly think they like this so SJM can market them and profit. Which, whatever, it just means her characters are empty and people can project onto them easy.

Overall, SJM has little to no consistency in the ACOTAR series, there are many gaps and I highly doubt they will be filled by the story's end.

In any case, I am going to go with my personal favorite theory, Nyx gets Nesta's silver flames and becomes a witch.

Anyway, thank you for sharing the rant!! (Also I am still reeling from the fic summary, I cannot wait for the first chapter)

#acotar #wolf asks #acotar rant #feysand #feyre archeron #nyx archeron #anti rhysand #critical sjm

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aseplant · 11 months

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Twenty Questions for Fic Writers!

I was not tagged,,, but I felt like doing it anyway haha

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 12! I'm not sure when that happened, whoa.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 55,540.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Primarily the Ember Knight, and probably Hand Jumper once it comes off hiatus. I'll branch out if/when the urge strikes, I think.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

the price of divinity - Genshin Impact, Jean & Venti (121 kudos)

walk these shorelines with me - The Ember Knight, Nagyunn & Najin (83 kudos)

Mind Games - The Ember Knight, Nagyunn & Zius (72 kudos)

heavenbound laughter, hellbound lies - the Ember Knight, Waron/Zius (57 kudos)

nagyunn’s treatise on scamming important people - the Ember Knight, ostensibly Nagyunn/Tyr; mostly, it's crack (55 kudos)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try my best to reply to every comment I get! It makes me really happy when authors take the time to respond, so I try to make an effort to reciprocate from the other end. Plus: I write primarily for obscure-ass fandoms, and I want it to feel like people can talk to me, not just consume from me, so.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I have been reliably informed that I am SHIT at gauging the angst levels in my own writing. Having said that, I'd vote for the price of divinity, since it's a combination of bittersweet ending + major character death + the cycle continues. (I like cycles, what can I say. That's probably how I ended up in the revenge cycle fandom.)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? morning dew is fluff all the way through!

8. Do you get hate on fics? I have not, probably because I inhabit my own cozy little corner of the internet. I'm glad the fandoms I'm in are so chill.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I used to write insane crack rpf smut fics of my friends in high school whenever they did something stupid (I distinctly recall writing something involving my friend climbing a ladder in heels in order to give another anal?? It was written in response to one of them going dumpster diving for an LED buttplug). I stopped doing this in college, but recently, I have met two idiots dear friends who have been eager to revive this old hobby of mine. Hence, blood red camellia. Among other things.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I do not. They've never really been my cup of tea, and also I'm lucky to have even one thought rattling around in my head at any given moment, never mind two.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of! It'd be extremely unlikely, all considered.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. I might translate some on my own at some point for practice, but that's far down the backlog for now.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? If you know, you know.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? I'm not that pressed about ships in general tbh. I just like dissecting characters, and if someone dies in the process, all the better <3

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Ember Knight high school AU... I actually have a pretty cohesive outline, but for various reasons it's been a difficult fic to write, and many of the main themes are no longer as dear to me as they once were. Still, I hold out hope that I'll get back around to it someday.

16. What are your writing strengths? I want to say characterization? And I guess grammar LOL. I had some stickler-ass teachers growing up, and this is probably the only thing I can thank them for.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Hnrhg plot. Thank god I can write all the character studies I want when it comes to fandom, so I'm sure no one has noticed this tiny little weakness yet.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I'd do it in a heartbeat if it was (1) in character and (2) I knew the language/had a friend who could translate for me, because there is nothing more embarrassing than having clearly machine-translated lines. But those conditions are so difficult to fulfill that it's never happened yet.

19. First fandom you wrote for? I wrote like... a chapter and a half of a Harry Potter fic when I was in, like, 4th grade? We don't talk about it. It's gone. I hope. I did not seriously try my hand at writing again until I got into Genshin Impact back in 2021, which is what I generally consider the first fandom I wrote for.

20. Favorite fic you've written? This one is hard... I think walk these shorelines with me is the best-executed, but I'm partial to Parallel Lines despite it not being executed quite as well as I would have liked.

It's late and I don't remember which of my mutuals write off the top of my head... I'm gonna tag @quiets-cradle, but if anyone else sees this and wants to join, feel free to! In fact, I am begging you to.

#plant has a moment #ask game #kind of...?#long post

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darling-i-read-it · 3 years

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Your Me

Andrews!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: SPIDERMAN SPOILERS, sadness, talks of death

Author’s Note: Lots of you had this idea lol so i hope I gave it justice! Thank you for intrusting me with it <3 Did I even get the Peter numbers right I have no idea (also I lied to you all I wrote this on my hotel bed between park visits)

Requested: by anon, Yello!!! I saw you were taking requests and I immediately had to ask for a nwh Garfield x fem! Reader where he comes through the portal and the reader is like “wow you’re pretty” and he’s so cute and flustered. Then later she’s the one he saves rather than mj

Requested: by @mads-weasley, Hi!! I love your writing soo much! I saw where you said you've seen No Way Home, so I was wondering if you could write a Andrew Garfield!Peter Parker x Reader where he had a (y/n) on his earth and she was his girlfriend instead of Gwen. Then he sees her in (Tom) Peter's world and gets all emotional. He doesn't tell her why though. They flirt throughout the time he was there and maybe she almost dies or something in the big fight scene at the end but he saves her. Afterwards, he tells her how he couldn't save his (y/n), and that he'd never let it happen again. Kissing and fluff ensues. Sorry that makes absolutely NO sense!! Thank you for all that you do! <3

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You were more worried for Peter than you cared to admit. The guy and you had only just recently become friends, which just so happened to be the worst time to be friends with Peter Parker. You had been effectively unable to get into any college, not to mention the constant danger you seemed to find yourself under.

MJ eyed the box that would send all the villains from other universes back into their universe. You had a hard time not pacing back and forth in Ned's dining room. You were stressing them out but you couldn’t help yourself. This was your first time in a life or death situation like this one.

“Would you sit down?” MJ asked, looking up at you. You laughed dryly.

“No,” you deadpanned.

“You should go and help my Lola in the kitchen,” Ned said, gesturing to the other room. You hardened your jaw, knocking they were just trying to get away from you. You didn’t blame them .

“Are you gonna open that thing?” you asked MJ. She looked down at it, swallowing hard.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. You turned around and walked through the house to the kitchen. Ned’s grandma wasn’t in there, she must have gone upstairs. You let out a sigh and leaned against the sink, hoping for a moment of clarity. How would Peter even manage this? With the whole world after him, not to mention the deadly villains who you didn’t trust? You felt for MJ. You could never send your boyfriend out to do something like this, you would feel far too guilty.

There was a crash in the dining room. You turned around quickly, grabbing a knife off the knife block. You rushed back in. There was a man standing there, facing away from you. He had his hands raised and a spider suit on, though it was different from Peters. You held the knife up worriedly, eyeing Ned and MJ who were on the other side of the man.

“I’m the Spider-Man of my universe,” the man explained. You narrowed your eyes, confused. How did he get in this living room, even if he was Spider-Man? You held the knife shaking in your hand.

“Prove it,” MJ said. She picked up a piece of bread and tossed it at him. He flinched but didn’t catch it.

“What was that for?!”

“I wanted to see if you had Peter’s..tingle!” MJ explained, backing away from him.

“I do have the tingle but not for bread,” this new Peter explained. He turned around as you took another step forward and grabbed the hilt of the knife out of your hand. You jumped, finally seeing his face. You were shocked that he didn’t look like your Peter at all. You stumbled back, not even trying to pull away from his grip on your wrist.

“You’re Peter?” you asked, amazed. “But you’re so…cute!”

This Peter stopped the moment he saw your face. He held your wrist in his hand, the familiar feeling of it stunning him. It had been an odd few days without a doubt but..this? You? It was like the world was playing some sort of sick joke on him. He apparently didn’t look like your Peter but you sure looked like his Y/N.

He flushed at your compliment but was probably blushing more at the memory of you, the faint ghost in his mind that he hadn’t realized faded so much. The memory had loosened around the edges. He hadn’t remembered the crinkle beside your eye or the way you smiled when you complimented him.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

“Uh…new Peter? You okay there?” MJ asked. You were staring at each other. He seemed so familiar in the way that you trusted him immediately. You weren’t sure what it was about the kindness in his eyes but you couldn’t help but want to stay right where you were.

“Yeah.” Peter cleared his throat and let you go, to both of your dismay. “I’m good.”

===

Peter 2, the eldest of the three of them, was watching Peter 3, the one you had met and felt a connection with, at the lab. Your Peter was whispering with MJ, talking about the plan, enjoying each other's presence.

“Do you have someone?” Peter 2 asked. Peter 3 turned his head in surprise then looked back down at the work he was doing. He shook his head slightly.

“No. Don’t really have the time for Peter Parker stuff,” he explained. Peter 2 nodded. He knew that all too well. There had been a portion of his life that surrounded only Spider-Man, so much so he forgot he was living a double life instead of just one. “Do you?”

“Uh…it’s complicated.”

“Not really in the cards for guys like us huh?”

The door opened and you walked inside, holding some chemicals that your Peter had asked for. You walked up to him, handing him what he wanted. He chatted with you for a moment. You didn’t leave Peter 3’s gaze. He was enthralled with your every move like he was trying to memorize you before he disappeared again. Peter 2 followed his gaze and his eyes softened.

“Is that her?” Peter 3 sat up, laughing, shaking his head.

“No, no…” But it was pretty obvious from the look on his face that you meant something to him.

“Peter! You Peter,” you said, pointing to Peter 3. You walked over to him and he lit up as you did so, standing up straight. You put bottles of stuff in front of him. “Is this right? I kinda suck at science,” you admitted. He nodded quickly.

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” he said. You nodded, smiling.

“Anything for Peter. Any one of you.” You moved on to Peter 2 but he watched, unable to keep his eyes off you when you were in here.

“Actually…I think this is just water,” Peter 3 said, picking up one of the vials.

“You asked for H20!” you said, walking back to him.

“I absolutely did not,” he told you, laughing. You picked it up.

“Well maybe I just wanted you to stay hydrated,” you said, crossing your arms in front of him.

“I didn’t get any water,” your Peter exclaimed.

“You have a whole girlfriend for that,” you said, pointing at MJ whose eyes went wide.

“I am not his errand boy,” she said. You turned back to Peter 2.

“I can take it back if you don’t want it. I could always use more water.” He shook his head, heart full.

“No, no. Thank you Y/N.” You nodded once and sat down to help him where you could, though it seemed you were just there for emotional support. Peter 1 chose not to say anything. Peter 2 decided that it was you after all. He wondered what happened to you in Peter 2’s life that caused him to be so emotional right then.

===

“Ned take deep breaths. Focus your mind,” you said, staring at the open portal. MJ was holding the box but Ned was not doing the only job he had. You breathed heavily, gesturing with your hands as though it would help Ned.

“We’ll just keep trying,” MJ explained. You nodded and Ned was quickly trying to get you three safe. Your eyes went wide. There was a Lizard barreling it’s way towards you. You hit Ned and turned to MJ.

“We should run!” you exclaimed, turning around and sprinting away. Connors came barreling through the lab, just narrowly missing MJ. You ran back through the portal, suddenly on the top of the scaffolding of the statue of liberty. The Peters were swinging around but it was hard to distinguish which ones were which.

You turned around, finding yourself cornered. The Lizard was fighting someone new now and you slipped, falling off the edge of the scaffolding.

Your scream was delayed. For a moment you didn’t even realize what kind of condition you were in. This was it. You were falling and you would die, helping Spider-Man. You close your eyes satisfied with the death you were going to have when you felt arms around you.

You opened your eyes. You were on the ground. Peter 3 had his arms around you, tears in his eyes.

Then you understood. You had died in his arms before.

“Peter…” you whispered. He nodded and gently let you down.

“Are you okay?” he asked, choking up. You nodded, hugging him briefly. He wrapped his entire body around you.

“Yeah,” you breathed. You pulled away, far too quickly for his liking and gestured to the other Peters. “You have a job to do,” you told him and he nodded quickly, swinging away.

===

Strange was floating far above you.

“Peter! My Peter!” You waved him over. He swung over. You gestured to the two Spider-Mans on the shield below you. “Take me over to them please.” He nodded and didn’t question you. You wrapped your arms around him and he swung you over. You landed and Peter 2 walked up to you, his arms wrapped around Peter 3 who seemed to be bleeding out.

You walked up to him in two long strides and kissed him. He melted into your touch, going quite literally weak at the knees.

“Sorry we have to say goodbye so soon,” you whispered.

“Me too,” he said and his voice was weak. You could hear the tears in his eyes.

“I just wanted to say goodbye before you were gone. Bye Peter 2. I hope you can get that stitched up.” He laughed, shrugging.

“Yeah, me too,” he said laughing. You backed away a bit. Peter 2 held your hand until you were too far away to touch.

“Whatever happened with the other me…it wasn’t your fault. So stop beating yourself up over it.” His chin quivered and he looked down at his feet.

“Thank you.”

Marvel Tag List: @dpaccione, @demonchick1, @karasong, @elisaa-shelby, @lov3vivian, @russian-soft-bitch, @alexxavicry, @valentina-luvs-u, @demigirl-with-problems, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @caswinchester2000, @mads-weasley

#spider man no way home spoilers #spider man spoilers #nwh spoilers #no way home spoilers #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #andrwe garfield!peter parker imagines

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starculler · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021: Day 5

Word Count: 6042 || Read on Ao3

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars, Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine Ahsoka Tano, Rex, Mace Windu, Violence, Implied Torture, Fake Death, loss of limb (fingers)

Another one in by the skin of my teeth lol.

Anakin nodded at the pair of clones, red and white clad troopers from the Coruscant Guard, stationed in front of the outermost doors to the Chancellor’s suite as he strode past and inside to the office they’d always met in. The grand room, and the hall before it, looked as it always had during any of his visits: haloed in the sun’s light and filled with any number of priceless artifacts and fine, if simply constructed, furniture. And all of it painted a bright, rich red from floor to ceiling that gave way to the raised, warm gray flooring nearer the windows. He stopped before that raised section, hands fisted and trembling beneath the larger sleeves of his dark brown robe, and looked up, past the stairs and chairs and desk at its very center to the Chancellor himself, smiling placidly down at him.

“Anakin, my dear boy,” the Chancellor greeted, pleased, and it was all Anakin could do not to scream. “I wasn’t expecting you, but please come. Take a seat. I always have time for a friend.”

“My apologies, Chancellor,” he said neutrally. He offered a shallow bow, jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. It hurt to breathe, a vice wrapped around his chest and squeezing his lungs so painfully tight he thought he might suffocate on the spot. “We just got back from a” — horrible nightmare, he thought and only a hitch in his breath to give it away —“campaign in the Outer Rim. I thought the resupply was also a good excuse to give my Padawan and I some time to rest planetside. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important.”

“Not at all.” Pal— The Chancellor, shook his head, smile still in place, if a little tighter when he gestured to the chairs in front of his desk and said, again: “Please. Sit. How is your padawan doing? Last we spoke, you sounded quite frustrated. Understandable, of course,” he said, amiable and sympathetic. “Teenagers, especially her age, can be difficult, though I have no doubts that you’re doing your best.”

Anakin walked up the four steps to the platform and not an inch closer even as he offered a tight smile of his own. He tasted sour bile in the back of his mouth to hear the man so much as mention Ahsoka, even if he’d kept her name out of his mouth. Still, he bobbed his head in acknowledgment of the question and answered.

“She’s doing good, Your Excellency. I think we’ve come to understand each other a little better since the last time I was able to speak with you.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” said the Chancellor, sounding, to Anakin’s ears, just a fraction displeased at the news.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It is.”

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

They’d lost so many men.

Ahsoka hadn’t been able to purge that haunting sight from her since they’d hobbled back to the Resolute, victorious but silent. The bodies of men she’d slowly grown closer to lived on the backs of her eyelids, there to see every time she closed her eyes. All of them left behind like so much trash, unburied and with no time to mourn them as they hurried on to the next planet. The next battlefield. The next slaughter.

She shuddered, huddled up in a deserted corner of the ship — so deep in that she’d lost track of where exactly she’d walked — as far from everyone else as she’d been able to manage. Misery clung to her, sticking and ugly, and she knew. She knew it was worse for the men who’d lost their brothers. Their friends. So she sat alone, the tears long-dried on her cheeks, not wanting to interrupt or take up space she didn’t deserve. They weren’t her brothers, but they’d been her men for almost a year and she cared. More than she probably should.

“Hey, Snips.”

She jerked, eyes wide, not having heard her master coming down the corridor. He smiled, a wan, withering thing. Nothing at all like the usual bluster and brightness he showed off in front of everyone. She said nothing as he sat, legs crossed and elbows resting on his knees, in front of her. He looked so tired. Stressed. He hadn’t been the neatest or most put-together looking Jedi she’d ever met, but he’d grown slowly worse since their last trip to Coruscant.

“Hey,” she said, voice duller than she’d meant it to be.

“How’re you holding up?” She considered the question. Considered lying, but…

“Not… not great.” Anakin hummed, but didn’t interrupt. She didn’t dare look at him as she spoke, not wanting to see how he felt about what she admitted. “I just— I don’t know—” She hooked her fingers into the thick, white fabric of her leggings and pulled her legs in closer. “I wanted to be a Jedi so bad.” She hated how she choked on the words, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I still do, really. But. But there’s just so much—

“It’s awful,” she whispered and startled when an arm settled over her shoulder and pulled so she was pressed tight to her master’s side. Wrapped up in her roiling emotions as she’d been, she hadn’t even noticed him move. She sniffled, turning to hide her face in his dark tunic. “There’s so much death, master. So much pain. I feel it all the time and I. I don’t know how to—”

The words died in her throat, smothered by an awful sob half-muffled by her master’s warmth. He rubbed her shoulder as she cried, pulled in as close as either could physically manage.

“How do you do it, Master,” she croaked once she’d mostly calmed. “How do you not care so hard?” She felt him still next to her, almost a flinch. Before she could apologize, take the words and this moment back and flee to her room, he answered, his own voice low and soft. Gentle.

“You never stop, Snips. You just … learn. You put it aside when you’re needed, and work through it when you’re not.” He sighed. “I’m not— Well. You know I’m not always great with my emotions, not like Obi-Wan or some of the other Masters.” She nodded in the lull, waiting for him to gather himself. “But the worst of it, the parts that’d only hurt you or the men to see? I keep it locked in a little box with an old fashioned lock and key, stashed away until I have time to meditate or process or even just when I work on a ship or droid.

“Every time we come back from a campaign and I count how many we’ve lost, I feel it so hard I think I’ll never breathe again. Usually, I’ll rely on Obi-Wan if it’s bad enough and he knows he can lean on me if he needs it. You, my young Padawan, can come to me any time you need to,” he said, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Anytime. Any reason. Even if it’s just to sit quietly together.”

Ahsoka nodded, not feeling better but not quite as alone either.

“Can we meditate?” She asked, voice trembling and tiny.

“Of course,” he said. Neither of them moved, not just yet.

“Hey Skyguy?” Anakin hummed a response. “You can count on me too, if you want.”

He said nothing for a long moment, and she saw his other hand twitch from the corner of her eyes — a brief motion, there and done.

“I know,” he murmured, so quietly a human wouldn’t have heard him even though her montrals picked the words up easily. “I know.”

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Anakin sucked in a deep, bracing breath, willing himself to be still and patient for just a little longer despite how every second he stood there only fueled the pit of anger coiled tightly in his gut. It had been easier, on the Resolute — in space and among his men where he didn’t have to look at the face of a man who’d lied to him for as long as they’d known each other. A man he’d defended against criticism and let whisper in his ear. A man he’d let slowly poison him from the inside until the rot had settled deep in the core of him, a permanent fixture he looked upon with shame and regret. And anger.

“I’m afraid I haven’t come just to visit an old friend, though.” His voice, miraculously, didn’t so much as waver, the words flowing as smoothly from him as they never had.

The Chancellor’s eyes seemed to narrow for a moment — so quick he almost thought he’d misinterpreted it, a trick of the light and nothing more — before he spoke, his tone even and jovial. “And what can I do to help you then, Anakin? Or have you come as Knight Skywalker? On behalf of the Jedi, perhaps,” he said, not a question. Anakin shook his head in answer regardless.

“I’m not here on behalf of the Jedi, Chancellor, but I am here as a Knight of the Order though I act alone.” He swallowed and carefully, slowly, reached down to his belt where his lightsaber hung, singing to him so faintly at that moment that it could have been miles away. The Chancellor didn’t move, didn’t so much as twitch, as he pulled the cool, metal casing from its clip and held it, unlit, in the palm of his flesh hand.

“What have you come here for, Knight Skywalker?”

A chill seemed to settle in the air between them that set every nerve in Anakin’s body aflame, alive and electric through his limbs so that he felt even the faint, phantom pain in his prosthetic. He curled his mechanical fingers into a fist, clenching and unclenching them for a few tense seconds the way he sometimes did before battle, when he worried that very pain might get in the way and cost more of his men their lives. His shoulders strained with the tension creeping into him, and he struggled to keep let it go.

“Chancellor Palpatine, I accuse you of being a Sith Lord and traitor to the Republic.”

The Chancellor laughed like Anakin had told a particularly funny joke, and said: “My boy, I am an old man who has dedicated his life, and a decade already as Chancellor, to the betterment of the Republic. How could I possibly be a-a Sith?” He asked, just the right amount of incredulity saturating the question. “I fear, my boy, that you are tired — this war has taken its toll on us all, and with you needed so often on the front and so firmly in the thick of the worst of it. Well, it hurts, but I’m unsurprised to find even a young man as impressive as you, my friend, might be swayed by this cruel joke under the circumstances.”

“It isn’t a joke,” Anakin snarled, finally losing the firm grip he’d kept on his anger. “I saw you.” The man stilled, thin lips pressed together in a grim line as he sat back in his chair too peer at Anakin like he were a bug. “I saw you,” he said again, breathing heavily, almost panting. “In your office, your private office, just before the 501st shipped out last time. Talking to Dooku.” He spat the name like a curse, filthier than any other word in his vocabulary.

“My boy, whatever you thought you saw—”

“He called you Sidious. He called you Master.” He bared his teeth at the man who’d been his friend, white-knuckled grip on his saber’s hilt tightening almost painfully. “You’ve betrayed the Republic.

“I am the Republic!” Anakin staggered when The Chancellor’s eyes flashed, bright yellow instead of deep brown.

“You’re a traitor,” Anakin bellowed back, finally igniting his lightsaber at his side. “You’ll turn yourself in, or I’ll bring you in myself. It’s my duty as a Jedi,” he said, not at all the confident declaration he’d meant it to be.

“Just as it was your duty to — what was it again? Eschew attachments?” Anakin flinched, but grit his teeth, determined. “My boy, Anakin, please see reason.”

“Reason? What reason? You’re-you’re a Sith!” He widened his stance as the Chancellor finally stood up from behind the desk, leaning forward on his hands against its smooth surface. His gaze burned into Anakin’s, boring in with such intensity he feared the man saw right down to the deepest, most vulnerable parts of him no matter how hard Anakin might try to keep him out. “You were my friend,” he said, nearly a whisper and not at all what he’d meant to.

“I still am.” The Chancellor smiled, but Anakin felt none of the warmth from it that he used to. “I can help you, Anakin. I can help you keep your loved ones safe in these awful times. I can give you the power to keep them safe with your own two hands. Power the Jedi could only dream of.” He paused, eyes gleaming bright and greedy as he said: “I could give you the galaxy.”

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Rex watched his general putter about the camp, looking more a mess than usual. He seemed not unlike a droid, his every move mechanically rote as he went about his tasks and his gaze distant in that way Rex sometimes saw on shell shocked shinies. He pursed his lips, grip on his bucket tightening a fraction. Their last campaign had been rough: heavy losses and a victory won by the skin of their teeth. He’d seen how it had left the Commander, much as Ahsoka had tried to hide it, and the next one was gearing up to be just as bad or worse if the 212th were held up.

General Skywalker, however, had been worrying him since long before. He didn’t know how much his general thought he was fooling Rex — and it rankled that he might have if not for little moments like this — but he wouldn’t fool anyone if this went on much longer. He’d heard troopers talking, spotting Skywalker up at all hours of the night, amiable enough but also mumbling to himself when he thought no one would see. Rex had done his best to keep the worst of it under wraps: making up reasons for the general’s wandering, erasing the occasional unauthorized flight on his personal junker of a ship, filling in reports that skipped his notice or forging them altogether.

What he couldn’t hide, Rex waved away as a symptom of how busy Jedi generals were in general. Easy to do when the only ones to work consistently closely with them were the Commanders — and Rex, considering he filled the role for the 501st.

He’d considered telling Cody at the very least, if not General Kenobi himself, but he’d put it off. Every time he came across evidence that something was wrong, he’d brushed it off. At first with assurances that the general was just stressed. That he’d course correct on his own and all would go back to how it had been. When it worsened, Rex had asked his general directly, needing to know if whatever had happened would affect his performance — if it would put men’s lives in danger.

Anakin had looked him in the eyes that day and promised he had it handled.

Whatever “it” was.

Rex trusted his general with his life. With his brothers’ lives. So it hurt, a physical pain in his chest, to know his general didn’t trust him enough to let him help. For his general — his friend — he’d do anything, even if it got him decommissioned. Had already, to some extent.

“Captain,” a shiny said, prying his attention away from Skywalker and back to the bustle of setting up camp. “Commander Cody’s on the line for you.”

Rex nodded and shoved his bucket back on his head. He spared one last glance at his general before following the trooper back to the hastily put together command tent, wondering all the way there if this was a sign for him to speak up.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Anakin swallowed, mouth dry as the desert planet he’d been born on. The part of him that would always be nine and scared, then nineteen and mourning, found the offer compelling. Power to keep everyone safe: Padmé, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Rex and his men. To have the galaxy fall in line so wars like this one never came about again. To break the chains keeping sentients fettered, abused and terrified. To do what he wanted without the constraints the Jedi imposed upon him and all their members. It appealed so well to that not-insignificant part of him that hated his own fear and weakness and the uncertainty of the future.

It scared him, how enticing the offer was and how tempted he was to forsake everything he knew and everything he’d been taught in exchange for that promise. All that held him back was the single, nagging feeling itching at the back of his skull. He probed at it, poking at what lay below the desire and fear until he found th rest of him — the parts the darkness didn’t call to so strongly.

The parts of him molded by the people he loved, nurtured by what he’d been taught at the Jedi’s feet, and built on the foundations his Mom had laid down for him in his childhood. The parts that whispered to him to be cautious. To be vigilant. To remember that nothing so golden, so perfect, came without a cost.

What was the price to be paid for the Chancellor’s offer?

What would he lose in exchange?

Everything, that tiny part of him whispered.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Obi-Wan smiled at Ahsoka as she skipped back towards her and Anakin’s troops, all of them nearly finished with the necessary preparations needed to leave this Force-forsaken planet. He watched the troops mingle, chatting and catching up as much as they could. Even his commander had loosened up in the afermath of a hard-won battle, leaned against a crate of supplies as he spoke with Rex.

The only person he hadn’t been able to find in the organized chaos had been his former padawan.

Anakin seemed to have disappeared entirely, not a trace of him anywhere which seemed odd to him. He turned toward Rex and Cody, intent on asking where he might find the wayward knight, only to slow and then stop altogether when he caught the tail end of their conversation.

“—know. But it’s … something.” Rex frowned, hands balled into tight fists at his side. Cody sighed.

“If he’s breaking regs,” Cody said archly, but didn’t finish the thought. Rex, in Obi-Wan’s humble opinion, looked rather much like he wanted to punch the other man.

“I’m not turning him in,” Rex hissed, low enough that Obi-Wan had to strain to hear him. “The general’s just … he’s in a bad way right now and I don’t know how to kriffing help if he won’t let me.”

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a thin line, drawing back before he heard Cody’s response. He hadn’t known Anakin had been doing poorly, though in what capacity he wasn’t yet sure. He’d hardly spoken to Anakin at all the last few months, busy as they’d both been. Still, if the captain was so worried, enough to bring it to Cody, then. Well.

He made a mental note to himself to check in on his former padawan. He knew the 501st were due for leave soon, a quick resupply over Coruscant that would give Anakin and Ahsoka both time to visit the Temple. Perhaps after, he’d make the call, or better yet: find some time to get their two battalions together outside of battle.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

He breathed out, a single slow, measured breath, and set his jaw. When he looked at the Chancellor — at Sidious — his choice had been made. Sidious scowled even before Anakin spoke, wrinkled and severe and not a hint at all of the man he had trusted.

“No.” He brought his saber up into Djem So’s opening stance. “I am a Jedi, and I’ll do what I must.”

“So it’s treason, then,” Sidious sneered, pulling a lightsaber of his own from his robes. Anakin felt the last dregs of his hope drain when the blade lit, its blood-red light casting Sidious’ face into eerie relief as the lights in the room grew suddenly dim.

Anakin nodded once, a short, sharp jerk of his head. He breathed in, taking a brief moment to steel himself as the room’s tension and chill grew bloated and oppressive. For a moment neither of them moved. Coruscant itself seemed to freeze, from every sentient on-planet to its very rotation in space. And then, all at once, life exploded back into action.

Sidious leaped out from behind his desk at the same time Anakin surged forward. Their lightsabers scraped each other mid-air, the barest, buzzing touch as he kept that ominous, red blade from slicing at his shoulder. He spun quickly on his heel to meet Sidious’ offensive attack from behind. Their sabers clashed, properly locked and spitting as each of them tried to over-power the other.

He threw the entirety of his weight into every attack, pressing forward and pushing Sidious back. But nothing landed. Anakin growled, moving faster. Pushing. Pressing. But nothing. Fucking. Landed. Sidious whirled, inelegant but effective. Power bolstered by experience and skill. Every slash blocked. Every thrust parried. Every move economical and calculated and a near perfect counter to Anakin’s own aggressive style.

“You have such potential,” Sidious crooned at him, their sabers locked once again, the energy buzzing and crackling loudly in Anakin’s ears. “You could be so much more than you are, my boy.”

Anakin dug his heels in the carpet and pushed, shoving as much of the Force as he could into it even as the effort left his gasping for breath. Gasping, but victorious when it at least shut the Sith up and sent him sailing across the room if not into the wall like he’d wanted. He grinned at Sidious’ responding glower and merely adjusted his grip on his lightsaber with a shrug. Taunting Dooku’s master as much as he dared.

“Join me, Anakin,” Sidious said, unmoving from where he’d landed and looking somehow unbothered behind the anger radiating from him. “Join me and cease this foolishness.”

“Never,” he hissed, and leaped forward with help from the Force.

They clashed. Separated. Clashed again. Neither gained ground, even as Anakin found himself tiring, slowly but surely. He winced when a glancing blow caught his arm, searing and slicing a neat, shallow line from elbow to shoulder. Anakin managed a nastier slash at the Sith’s legs, and nearly laughed when he caught Sidious’ ankle as he leaped and watched him stagger on the landing.

Fury, thick and startling and like nothing Anakin had felt before even on the front lines, oozed from Sidious then. Anakin, sweating and exhausted, stilled. Tense and suddenly nervous. Something slick and malicious wrapped around his throat, and before he’d even registered that it was the Force — Sidious using the Force — it squeezed, cinched closed and cutting off his air.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Sidious said, sincerity dripping like poison from his words. “I had a plan, you see. A place for you at my side, and. Well, it might be earlier than I’d hoped, but I’m nothing if not accommodating. Don’t you agree?”

“Shut.” Anakin gagged, the invisble vice squeezing ever tighter as the seconds ticked past. “Up.” He fumbled for the Force as dark spots dotted his vision, but felt it slip through his fingers like sand. “Sith.”

Sidious hummed, paced calmly closer to Anakin like they had all the time in the world. And maybe they did. Those were clone troopers out front, and Anakin had paid a slicer more than enough credits in his attempts to gather evidence against Sidious for at least the vague confirmation that they, specifically, could be controlled. He had no doubts, now, that Sidious, among those involved in this conspiracy, could and would do just that.

The Force squeezed a fraction harder — any more and his neck would snap — before easing, just enough for him to gasp, coughing and spluttering as fresh air returned to his burning lungs. He fell to his hands and knees, blinking back tears and the graying haze that had crept into his vision. He barely noticed when Sidious stopped in front of him and bent to pick his lightsaber up off the ground where he didn’t remember dropping it.

“What a tragedy,” Sidious said, laying a withered hand on Anakin’s head like a child needing comfort. He would have tried to bite the old man’s fingers off if he hadn’t still been struggling to catch his breath, just enough pressure still on his throat to keep him from fully recovering. “The disappearance of Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, The Hero with no Fear who tried so hard to defend the Republic’s beloved Chancellor from the Separatist assassin, Ventress. Who took off in pursuit when she fled, without backup despite the Chancellor’s pleas — always a hothead, that one.”

“Shut up,” Anakin croaked, pain straining his voice. The hand in his hair tightened, not painfully. Not yet. A warning to keep silent — a warning to be ignored as soon as he could fucking breath again.

“What a shame,” Sidious continued, “how the young man was caught unawares.”

Anakin’s stomach dropped, fear like ice crawling through his veins as the meaning behind Sidious’ monologue finally started to register. He moved and the pressure on his throat worsened in response. He shouldn’t have come. The thought hit him like a blaster bolt to the chest.

He shouldn’t have come. He should have told someone. Should have tried harder to gather evidence against the Chancellor, even though he’d lost sleep over it for months — trying and failing and trying again only to come up empty-handed every time. Sdious was smart and his plan had been in motion probably for longer than Anakin had been alive.

Even if they’d never believe him, he should have told someone.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

“Padmé.” Anakin said her name like it was the sun itself and he a man without its light all his life.

She smiled, held his face between the palms of her hands, and pulled him down into one of the softest, gentlest kisses they’d shared since the war had started. He practically melted against her, boneless if not quite relaxed. She pulled back first, brow furrowed and lips pursed as she studied his face. He hadn’t looked great the last time they’d talked over a holo, but now he looked worse.

The bags under his eyes were deep, dark smudges that looked like bruises in the dim light of her apartment. He looked drawn, paler than a man on the front lines more often than not should be, with dry, chapped lips and a gauntness to him that might have been as much a trick of the light as the early signs that he’d not been eating well. His hands trembled against her waist, a fine tremor she felt through the thin nightdress he’d caught her in. She hadn’t expected him to come by, not so late at night and certainly not looking half-dead.

“Anakin, what’s wrong? Should I call a healer?” she asked, smoothing a thumb over his lips, his cheek, under his eye. He shook his head, turning so he could kiss her palm. He ran so warm normally that it scared her to feel him so cold. Like death, she thought and it sent a foreboding thrill down her spine.

“I love you,” he murmured against her skin, his bright, blue eyes never leaving hers. She’d have found it romantic if not for how much it scared her just then.

“You’re scaring me, Anakin. Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“ ‘M sorry.” He lifted one hand told hold hers, the same one he’d kissed, and brushed his lips over her fingers. “I’m sorry,” he said again and Padmé thought she might cry from how wretched he sounded. “Don’t leave tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Don’t go to work. Stay here.” He didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

“Anakin, I can’t just— just skip. There’s an important bill we’re trying to pass and if I’m not there—” He squeezed her hand, not painfully but not gently either, and she snapped her mouth shut. “Anakin?” She moved to touch his face again, but he drew back. She gasped, a quiet, hurt noise pulled from her lips.

“Just tomorrow,” he said, sounding desperate. Scared. “Just tomorrow, please Angel. Please.” She swallowed, wide eyed and trembling now herself, but nodded.

“Alright. Alright, I promise, but only if you tell me what’s going on. Okay?” He hesitated, but acquiesced.

“After,” he said and she said nothing else before pulling him to bed by the hand.

He curled up beside her, pressed as close as physically possible with his head pressed to her breast as she kissed the top of his head and smoothed a hand through his unruly hair. She didn’t know how long they laid there, silent but awake before sleep claimed her. When she woke, he was gone and the place in her bed where he’d lain had gone cold. In his place were a note and a datastick.

I’m Sorry, the note read, written in his slanted, messy cursive. Padmé felt tears prick at her eyes, something thick and awful and nauseating curling in her stomach as she picked the datastick up and moved to plug it into the datapad she kept on her nightstand.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

He closed his eyes, let the pang of regret flow down and into him, then, finally, out. It came so suddenly easy, feeling what he needed before letting go, that he wanted to laugh. Wanted to cry. All his time as a Jedi he’d struggled, and he chose this moment to finally embrace — understand — what it was they’d been trying to teach him all along.

“Get to the point,” he said, trying to sound brave and not like he could fall apart at any second. The hand in his hair pulled, jerked his head up so he could look at those ugly, Sith eyes and Sidious’ grotesque grin. He’d spit if he could, but the Force tightened on his throat like Sidious had plucked the thought from his mind.

“The point,” the Sith hissed, “is that I will not waste the years I spent molding my perfect Apprentice.” Sidious crooned the word like it should mean more to Anakin. Like it shouldn’t make him sick to his stomach. “There is a place for you at my side, boy, whether you are there willingly or not.”

Sidious let him go, so suddenly he nearly fell on his face. Anakin blinked, confused as he pushed himself up, and caught the edge of that same, awful grin. Saw Sidious raise a hand, fingers splayed and pointing at him, and then nothing at all as he crackle of electricity and his own screaming filled the room.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Mace’s head throbbed, the same pounding pain that had lingered in his temples for months now. A shatterpoint, he knew, but any specific knowledge about it had remained firmly out of reach. Regardless of his headache — he’d had long years of practice managing it — he strolled into the Council’s Chambers, calm as a Jedi Master should be despite the urgency of the emergency meeting called. Problems, it seemed, just loved to pile up. First, an attack on the Chancellor in his own office the week before, then the disappearance of Knight Skywalker, and now whatever new event had cropped up.

He sighed, taking his seat among the mix of present Councilors. All of them, he was surprised to note, though most had called in via holo. Once he’d been seated, the room quieted and every eye turned to Master Yoda who’d called them together. The old troll’s face looked grim, his ears drooped as he all but hunched over his gimmer stick. Slick, icy dread slithered down Mace’s spine, knowing he wouldn’t like whatever the old Master had to say.

“Master Yoda?” Kenobi’s voice, mildly tinny over the holo, broke the silence when Master Yoda failed to speak up. The old Master seemed to wilt even further.

“Received a recording, we did, from Dooku.” Every Jedi in the room jerked, though none looked more than serenly alarmed at the news. “A datapad, he sent, early this morning. And another a gift.” Yoda’s voice wavered on the last word, just enough to be noticeable.

“May we see the device?” Plo Koon tipped his head to one side as he asked the question, a request made more for Yoda’s benefit than because any of them had any real need to see Dooku’s message for themselves.

Yoda shook his head and said: “With the investiators, it is. Work, they will, to see if a trick this is not. Deceiving us, Dooku may be.”

“Deceiving us?” Master Kolar leaned forward in his seat, a frown marring his features. Master Yoda nodded.

“Bring news, he does, of our missing knight.” Mace saw Kenobi jolt at the statement, wide-eyed. His fellow councilor had been devastated at the news of his former padawan’s disappearance. A few of the other Master’s spared Kenobi a sympathetic glance, before returning their attention to Master Yoda. “Claim, he does, that Knight Skywalker’s death his assassin, Ventress, is responsible for. Chased, he says she was, after thwarting an attempt on the Chancellor by young Skywalker she was.”

“Anakin,” Kenobi started, voice strangled. Mace frowned, rested his elbows on his knees, and steepled his fingers as he closed his eyes. “Anakin has fought Ventress many times, and come out unscathed before. To claim she killed him…” he trailed off.

“A gift, Dooku sent as well,” Yoda reminded.

The earlier chill in Mace’s spine solidified into a pit behind his stomach, a near physical weight as he said, low and pained: “Proof.”

The room was silent. Still. Their combined dread and anticipation thickened the air until it grew hard to breathe.

“Yes.”

Mace opened his eyes. He looked first to Obi-Wan, lips thinned but otherwise wearing a perfectly blank mask, and then to Master Yoda’s own grief-stricken face.

“His prosthetic and saber I have kept here to show you, but the rest. To the Healers for tests it has gone.”

“Healers?” Obi-Wan’s blank facade cracked. Mace was sure Obi-Wan’s face would have been pale as a sheet if not for the blue-tint of he holo-image projected onto his chair. Yoda said nothing for a long time, though Mace didn’t know if it was reluctance or grief that stalled him. “Master,” Obi-Wan whispered, and Mace felt sympathetic tears prick at his eyes for all the grief he could hear in that word alone. “Please.”

“Fingers,” Yoda said, grave and bland and disgusted. “Knight Skywalker’s, the Healers confirmed not long ago.”

Mace heard a few of the Masters’ gasp, and Obi-Wan’s own strangled, horrified noise, but Mace kept silent. Let his eyes slip closed once more, and bowed his head as a wave of bitter grief swept over him.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Anakin never woke for long, but when he did there were always two constants: pain and Sidious.

And hope. Always hope.

That Padmé had read what he’d left on the datastick — not enough but a start, and she’d always been so much smarter than him — and forgave him for the lie. For leaving.

Hope that Sidious would choke on his food and die, even if it meant Anakin rotted away in this cell.

Hope that the apologies he’d written to Ahsoka, Rex, and Obi-Wan made it to them, even if he hadn’t included half as much information in them as he had in his Angel’s.

And hope that maybe, one day, he might be saved. That Sidious’ attempt to deceive everyone would, at least this once, fail.

“How much longer will you remain disobedient, my Apprentice,” Sidious said as he slipped into the cell. Anakin closed his eyes for only a brief moment before turning a glare on his captor.

“Dunno,” he croaked, “how much longer ‘r you gonna live?”

Sidious hissed and repaid him with a blast of lightning in response.

Anakin screamed.

#whumptober2021 #no.5 #betrayal #star wars #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #fic #violence #implied torture #fake death #loss of limbs #my fanfic #the only limbs lost are fingers and it's only mentioned not shown

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backslashdelta · 3 years

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@mostgeckcellent thank you so much for the tag! This is such a fun tag game! I'm making a new post because this is long and so the post you tagged me in was fairly long as well lol

how many works do you have on AO3?

I have 42 works on AO3 across 2 pseuds! That being said, one of my pseuds is for podfics only (all but one of which are podfics of my own works); the number of works on my main account where I keep all of the written versions of my fics is 33.

what’s your total AO3 word count?

250 307 words :) and I am very proud of all most of them lol

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Only one, and it's Glee. I may or may not branch out in the future, only time will tell ;)

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

It Was Only a Kiss (582 kudos). I think this absolutely deserves to be my top fic, in my opinion. It's my longest work, and it's the piece I worked on the longest, and poured the most of my love into. I'm very very proud of this one. Though, fair warning, it is an anti-Blaine Kurtbastian fic, so to my Klaine followers: you probably don't want to read it. But that's okay. Because lots of other people already have lmao

I Want the World to See You'll Be With Me (116 kudos). A sweet Kurtbastian one-shot I wrote as a Christmas present to @unhappyending last year. I'm surprised to see it so high, because I'm not really a fluff writer and this is unmistakably fluff, but... I guess the Kurtbastian fans love them some fluff!

Notes of an Old Mistake (96 kudos). It's Kurtbastian, it's angst, it's porn with plot! I feel like this fic is one of the most me things I've ever posted, which is interested since it was a gift to @pouralittlewater and very much based on what she wanted written. Guess we have similar tastes!

A Rush of Blood to the Head (76 kudos). The first pwp I ever posted, a Kurtbastian vampire!Sebastian halloween one-shot. Iconic of that to be this far up the list honestly.

The Hazards of Love 1 (68 kudos). This fic is what really got me in to writing. It's ~50k words, my second-longest fic to date, and it means a lot to me. There are some things in it that I'm iffy about, but also some scenes that I really, really love, and are very dear to my heart. When I started posting it, I didn't think anyway would read it because of the premise. Apparently I was wrong.

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes. I always respond to the first comment someone leaves on any of my fics, or any chapter of one of my fics, if it's a main comment. Sometimes people will reply to my reply, or reply to another commentor, and in those cases I don't always respond, but otherwise I do; if someone binged one of my multichaps and left a comment on every chapter, I will respond to every single one.

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

This is an easy tie between He Forgets Me, He Forgets Me Not and Never Ask For Anyone But You (a birthday gift for @unhappyending), both of which end with the death of one of the main characters; in the first, the final scene is a funeral where it's revealed that the character has died, and in the second, the actual scene where the death occurs is described (though it could be left up to interpretation whether the character actually does pass away).

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I do not, but I have an idea for one that I might eventually write...

have you ever received hate on a fic?

I received a hateful review on FFN once, but it was clearly spam. Other than that, the closest I've gotten to hate has been someone asking me to go a different direction with a fic after I had already made my intentions clear; if that's the worst I have to deal with, I am very happy. Especially since there are a lot of things I write about that some people may have a problem with lol

do you write smut? if so what kind?

Girl yes. I've already linked 3 explicit fics in this post lmao who am I if not a smut writer?

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

have you ever had a fic translated?

I haven't! I'd love to translate my own fics into French though. I think that would be cool. My French is not good enough unfortunately, but maybe someday if I ever make an effort to improve it.

have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have! Last Christmas @unhappyending and I (KC you're getting tagged A LOT in this post lol sorry) co-wrote the Kurtbastian 2020 Advent Calendar. We posted one chapter per day starting on December first and leading all the way up to Christmas Day (inclusive). It was a lot of work, but also a lot of fun! I also recorded the podfic :)

what’s your all time favourite ship?

Kurtbastian. I'm a huge multi-shipper, as we all know, but Kurtbastian is where my heart truly lies.

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow. This was originally a one-shot for @blangstydays, and then I decided to write another chapter, and now it's sitting there as a WIP on AO3 and I never think about it and will probably never finish it. Oops, sorry.

what are your writing strengths?

I think my biggest strengths are a) dialogue, and b) describing a character's internal thoughts/logic/whatever. These are kind of tied together; essentially, I just think I'm good at getting into the character's head and really being able to put into words what they would think and say in a way that feels authentic to them.

what are your writing weaknesses?

Right now my biggest weakness is having the motivation to write. But when I do have the motivation, my biggest weakness is probably transitioning between scenes, or scenes that don't feature much dialogue. I'm just... not the best at describing things, imo. I also don't think I'm great at scenes with a lot of people; I don't know what to do with all of them, and even if I do, I can have a hard time getting into the heads of that many different people for the same scene.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think I've written maybe a few words in French, but only because I know a little bit of the language. I wouldn't write anything substantial in another language unless I had someone who knew that language and was willing to proof-read it for me. In general, I don't think I have an issue with it. I'd have to translate it if I was reading it in a fic. I don't know, it's not something I've given much thought to.

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

Glee. The first and only <3

what’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

The answer to this is easily It Was Only a Kiss. I have some other one-shots that have a special place in my heart, by IWOAK will forever and always be my baby, and I am so glad she gets the love she deserves in the form of hits/kudos/comments <3

Time to tag some of my writer friends! @unhappyending (figured I should tag you in this post one more time lol), @esperantoauthor, @20xbetterthanu, @awkwardcaterpillar, @useless-fanfictions, @blangstydays, and anyone else who wants to do this please feel free to do so and tag me, I'd love to read your answers!

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rechoired · 4 years

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A problem with the Tales Of Arcadia community

First and foremost, I’d like to ask anyone taking the time to read this to please read the post all the way through before commenting on the matter. There is a lot of dirty laundry to unpack here, and some points will be building off previous ones.

I’ll get right to the point. Most everybody in the Tales of Arcadia fandom will have heard of the blog imthegingerninja / ginger-le-gay. She is one of the most well-known ToA-centric blogs, after all. (If you’re wanting to avoid her on Twitter as well, her account is Margaret Bell, or @The_Book_Bell.)

This is your PSA, TOA fandom: Ginger is a toxic, manipulative person.

This is not a claim I like to make lightly, but it’s long overdue that this issue is properly brought up within the fandom.

I’ve seen so many people wonder why the Tales of Arcadia fandom is so small. Well, I and many others very strongly believe that Ginger is one of the main reasons for that, if not the main one. To make matters easier, I’ve tried to break this down into some main points. So let’s take a look at how Ginger falls under this category.

Disclaimer: Please DO NOT look at this post as an excuse to harass Ginger or any other blog mentioned here. This sort of behavior is NOT acceptable. The point of this post is to educate those who may not know the extent of her harrowing behavior, nothing more.

1. Dishonesty and Death Threats

[EDIT: Shortly after this post went up, she started blatantly lying about me to try to cover for herself. You can see those lies being easily disproven here]

Ginger has been kicked from at least three Tales of Arcadia servers, all for similar reasons of violence. While I cannot provide screenshots as I am no longer part of the servers they were in, there are multiple witnesses that can verify the disgusting behavior she engaged in. The one I saw specifically was her saying that certain members of the fandom should be gathered up and hunted for sport, among other gross things. (Elaboration of why can be found in point 3, though it still doesn’t excuse this kind of talk)

Here is some points made by another blog that also sums up similar issues with Ginger, though:

While there were multiple instances of her inciting violence towards others, this is unfortunately one topic I cannot provide specific screenshots for at this time. But I will add them in as I can find them. That being said, I want to move to the dishonesty, something I do have a screenshot for.

While you could argue that people sometimes notice the similar things, this is far too close together to be considered an “original find”. The reblog button is there for a reason, but she instead decides to steal the OP’s premise and present it as her own original thought.

There have been a couple other blogs that have confirmed that their theories and analysis posts were often stolen and presented as Ginger’s own as well, to the point where they stopped bothering even making such posts, as the above blog points out. (Out of respect for their privacy, I will not be naming these blogs. Say what you will about that possibly weakening my point, but if she’s willing to so blatantly steal from that person shown above, it shouldn’t surprise you that she’s so willing to do it to others.)

Theory-making and analysis posts aren’t as solidly “original content” as a piece of art or fanfiction, sure, but it’s still common fandom courtesy to give credit where it’s due. Ginger has intentionally avoided extending that courtesy far too many times.

2. Hypocrisy

Most of this is going to be about past Merlin vs. Morgana drama, though there are also words to be said for the incredibly shaky relationships she forms with “friends”.

But first let’s talk about those wizards.

This is a topic I’ve tried to approach with Ginger before, but she borderline refused to acknowledge any of the points I was trying to make, and when she did, I don’t know if I just wasn’t being clear or what, but it honestly looked as though she was purposefully trying to misunderstand what I was saying in her bizarre responses. (To be fair, I was sending messages out of anger because she vagueposted about a blog I admired, calling them a “disgusting creep” because of them simply saying they’d hoped Jim and Merlin would be able to actually bond at some point... Not really a justifiable reaction to such a harmless thought, in my opinion. But my point is, I recognize that the circumstances may have clouded my ability to vocalize my thoughts clearly.)

That aside, we should first acknowledge this post Ginger made to save face after having gotten some backlash about hate-train related things (Side note: I couldn’t find the original post, so this is a screenshot I got from someone else. I did not add the writing. The text underneath it should still be slightly readable, I hope.):

Taken at face value, this is a very reasonable post. I think everybody would and should be able to agree on it. Hate-meme him for fun, sure, but don’t actually harass or insult others over a fictional character. Simple, right?

Apparently not, because Ginger’s done loads of that to others. Probably why the “LOL” was added in, I bet.

This post confused me. First of all, exploring dark topics (”angst”, as you put it) has never been a rare occurrence, every fandom has that content, most in heavy abundance. I’ve noticed no staggering difference in volume of this fandom compared to others I’ve been in. People enjoy angst not because they think the character “deserves to be in pain”, they enjoy a fictional blow to their own emotions. There’s lots of different reasons people like angst, but it’s barely ever been out of a genuine hate for whatever character’s the focus, from all the things I’ve seen. Your own friends have indulged in Jim angst and body horror posts before, does that mean you think they’re awful people? I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain something like this.

Also, way to basically admit you think all Merlin stans get off on child torture. So much for “If you like Merlin as a character, you’re valid”, am I right? God, what a mess of a post. (It’s been very recently deleted, which makes me wonder if she got more backlash on it, but just... wow.)

Let’s look at another one.

Again. Vagueposting about someone specific, I’d wager, since most of the people I’ve seen comment on this topic either think both characters are morally gray, or hate both.

But of course, when it comes to Morgana, suddenly excusing bad behavior can be justified. Ginger can call someone a disgusting creep because they want a familial bond between Jim and Merlin, that’s just wrong, but pushing the Mom-gana narrative with the genocidal abuser and Toby is completely fine, folks.

(Note: I would like to point out that I really don’t care about what theories and hopes people have for Morgana. You should be allowed to love that character in any way you want, same as I would say for Merlin. My issue with these examples is the completely brazen hypocrisy in which these two characters are treated. You’re obviously allowed to love Morgana without consequence, but the same should be said for any character of the show, and yet it’s not.)

The most obvious instance of this double-standard is well observable here, I believe:

... I think this mostly speaks for itself. Sorry, but this is very blatantly trying to excuse Morgana’s actions, here.

Oh hey, remember that post about Ginger saying that liking Merlin must mean you want to see Jim in horrible pain?

Say anything similar about her with Morgana, and suddenly she takes issue with this line of reasoning!

I’m sorry, but if you can’t take this sort of thing, then you shouldn’t be dishing it out. One of your own friends is still getting hate over the simple fact of liking Merlin, and all this mentality is exactly why.

Let’s look at one more.

Fun fact! Morgana horrifically abused somebody for centuries, tried to kill multiple kids, took horrible advantage of Claire (probably traumatized her), and canonically wanted to genocide humanity, not to mention all the OTHER murders she's committed, both directly and indirectly.

But somehow pointing any of this out “doesn’t count”. This is why the fandom keeps saying more and more things like this:

And this:

I could be going through her constant hating on Merlin and people who like Merlin for days straight, but I hope you all get the idea by now.

Again, I would like to just reiterate: You can like whatever character you want for whatever reason you want. The problem with this case is the hypocrisy and mistreatment of others, not your taste in characters.

Now interestingly enough, she’s lately been singing a different tune about the guy, switching from the “I hate Merlin I hope he dies!!!” mentality to “Oh he should get a redemption arc too :)” sort of thing.

I’m highly convinced that the only reasons for this “change of heart” is because of the constant backlash she was getting for the obnoxious amount of hate posts being thrown around all the time, but also because Aaron Waltke keeps tabs on the fandom more lately, and has spoken himself about Merlin not being a villain.

I could go on about this point forever, but I think I’ll just leave the Merlin topic with this post going through the hypocrisy of the Merlin Hate Train. In fact, here’s two just for fun.

Now onto more real-world focused areas of hypocrisy. One such instance can be found in Ginger’s Janus Disorder server.

Just take a look at this post.

While the offender in this case isn’t Ginger specifically, it still takes place in her server, and she made no moves to enforce her “No discourse” rule. All over... what? A random kudos on a fanfiction that’s not even about anything controversial since all characters involved are adults? I immensely don’t understand the point of why this ever had to be an issue, or why nobody spoke up about how ridiculous this is.

I’d also like to point out a certain user called firecat17. For some quick context, waaay back in the Kung Fu Panda fandom (around 2018), this user had been harassing people and saying incredibly vile things, a person of which Ginger had a bit of a feud, but firecat’s anon threats had gotten to the point where Ginger ended up having to block their IP.

Obviously, the user firecat was the one in the wrong, here. (Also, the irony in this comment is through the roof...)

Interesting point there, Ginger. Sure would be nice if you practiced what you preached.

Why am I bringing this random old drama up, you may ask? Well, it just strikes me as strange that someone who was so vile to Ginger is suddenly on her okay-list again, sending her asks and getting casual responses as if nothing ever happened.

To be fair, there is the possibility that they worked out their differences in private. But given the severity of the kinds of words being exchanged, I would still find that rather suspicious.

When someone who’s said things so vile can be so easily forgiven, yet something as harmless as leaving a kudos on some random fanfiction is considered grounds for harassment, it’s obvious there’s no stability or room for trust among this group of people. Unsurprising when there’s been several instances of this “friend group” turning on each other.

If you think you’re somehow different, that your “friendship” with Ginger or the others is more valued than that, then I’m sorry to burst your bubble but it’s likely not true. She’d throw you under the bus at the hint of you doing something she deems problematic, as it’s happened to multiple blogs before you.

3. Demonization of and insensitivity towards s*xual abuse victims

(This topic is one that’s hard for me to talk about, being a victim of CSA myself, so I’ve gathered some different sources to do most of the main talking for me. I tried to form more commentary on this myself, but I get too emotionally charged in my responses, and I don’t want that to cloud any reader’s perception of what I’m trying to communicate here, so I’ll try to keep most of my comments brief on this one.)

One thing recently brought to my attention about Ginger and her squad that especially bothers me is their rashness in labeling people p*dophiles and p*do apologists. If these claims were true, then I wouldn’t have a problem with it.

But these people are accusing others of these horrible things and threatening them on the sole basis of fictional content.

Now before you fly off the handle at me, let me be very clear: I absolutely understand that there are gross people out there who use the “It’s all just fiction” argument to hide their actual, pr*datory behaviors. (We’ve all probably seen at least one or two neckbeard memes of that caliber)

But like it or not, exploring traumatic themes through a fictional lens is something that has been studied and proven to be a genuine coping mechanism for some. It’s not something that works for me, but I knew a few people from past therapy groups that it worked surprisingly well for. Bringing a trauma into a controlled environment and processing it through fictional means can and does help some victims deal with what they went through.

It’s important to understand that not everyone processes their experience in the same neat, little boxes you have laid out as the only “acceptable” ways of coping. Trauma fiction and expressive arts therapy are commonly used by victims, and it does help some people, whether you like it or not.

I’m already dragging this on too much, so here are some sources for better-worded information on the topic (Warning: Most of these deal with highly sensitive themes such as gun violence and s*xual abuse.)

Source 1 - Source 2 - Source 3 - Source 4 - Source 5 (pages 61 onward, specifically) - Source 6 - Source 7 - Source 8 - Source 9 - Source 10 (and believe me, if those all don’t satisfy you, I can easily supply more.)

And this quote from source 9 I think sums it up best:

“Fiction works differently. My imagination gives me a framework to process the grief and terror and the consequences, even when I myself have not found any resolution. It allows me to enter my own traumatic experiences sideways and linger inside them, if I know I can give them to characters who might be lucky enough to find the antidote: love, connection, community, family. In other words, I can enter — and exit — the trauma loop through stories that are not exactly the same as mine.

This goes for the reader also. Recent studies periodically assure us that stories — literary fiction, hardcover books, even the simple act of reading — promote empathy. We rarely have identical experiences, so fiction is how we practice linking our similar or parallel realities so we can feel them. This seems particularly useful in our current society, where we are all so separated, and are working so hard to block the violence that keeps happening to us from our minds.

Fiction connects us, and it can also contribute to our healing. When we see ourselves in worlds we don’t live in, like The Handmaid’s Tale or The Color Purple, sometimes, that very different violence helps us finally process our own. Because as much as our memoirs and testimonies are brave and validating, fiction does not just mirror our truths so they are safe to experience; it also helps us endure the aftermath. Because long after the immediate experience is over, survival struggles onward, in every moment of our daily lives.”

While most professionals have in the past advised that victims keep their trauma-related works more private, to only show it to your trusted friends or family, the fast-growing use of the internet has led more people to sharing it in an online platform, which is not unexpected behavior.

I unfortunately don’t have the screenshot of the original post, but there was a post made some time back literally telling a fandom member to go and hang themselves over this garbage. A survivor of s*xual abuse, no less. And to top that off, one of Ginger’s squad @emmy-puff commented in support of that violent post, as well as blatantly misgendering the target of it. While, again, I was unable to get screenshots, there are multiple witnesses to this instance, one Anonymous even having called them out on it back when it happened. (I suspect that Emmy deleted that answer due to how bad it made them look.) If anybody reading this has screenshots of the initial post or the ask that came of it, please feel free to share.

I don’t care who you are or who you’re talking about, if you use misgendering someone as a way to hurt them, then you are an insult to the trans community. That is an awful thing to do, and you lose so much credibility if that’s the only thing you can fall back on when getting in a fight with someone. While this post isn’t about Emmy specifically, this is exactly the kind of hateful rhetoric that’s being encouraged in the environment Ginger’s made.

Another thing I would like to point out on this matter is an instance that happened in the ToA fandom a couple years back. I, again, don’t have screenshots available (I believe the original post ended up deleted) but the post in question caused enough of a fuss that I’m sure a few people must remember it...

A while back, there was an artist that posted uncensored, untagged r*pe art of Aaarrrgghh, Gunmar, and Jim in the main Trollhunters tag. As you can imagine, this infuriated many people. Many of which are among the list of those who’ve been labeled “p*do apologists”. Almost the very minute that post showed up in the tag with no trigger warnings of any kind, the fandom immediately got on OP’s tail about it, because they all shared that basic understanding of “This is a traumatizing subject for many people and they should have the ability to avoid it”. If the people you’ve labelled as pr*dator supporters were really as awful as you say they are, they would’ve jumped to that person’s defense, too. But they were completely against OP’s horrible lack of consideration of survivors, right alongside the rest of the fandom.

Am I saying you have to like trauma fiction? Absolutely not. Are there people that make trauma fiction that are actual pr*dators? I’m sure there are. But those people would be that way whether trauma fiction was out there or not. Gross people have existed and will always exist regardless of what media is out there.

I deeply understand the controversy, uncertainty, and stress that surrounds this topic, I promise you, I do. But the fact of the matter is, some people actually do use trauma fiction and expressive arts therapy as a way of coping, as has been observed in people even from ages as young as 5. To say otherwise is blatantly untrue. This isn’t a matter of opinion or morals, this is plain, studied facts that you cannot change about human psychology.

Nobody should ever have to go through something as horrible as s*xual abuse of any kind, and I know how deeply upsetting it can be to see certain images or stories with those themes in play. Those users with a sense of decency and understanding for fellow victims will tag their posts with the appropriate warnings. After that, it’s up to you to filter out what you don’t want to see. You curate your own internet experience, and it’s just plain irrational to try and harass everyone into conforming to your rules. While it’s an 18+ blog’s job to make sure to tag and label their content appropriately, it is your job to block the things you don’t want to see, whether you’re an adult or a minor. It is YOUR job to blacklist content that you know will upset you, because it is always going to exist on the internet, and any internet user needs to know and understand that. Multiple times I’d seen people going off about posts that were already appropriately trigger-tagged. If you don’t have those upsetting tags blacklisted by now, then the fault is mostly on you in that kind of case, not the OP.

Before I end this topic off, just one more example of blatant disrespect towards victims:

I’m sorry, but the absolute nerve of comparing some random fictional character you’re petty over to an actual pr*dator who’s terribly hurt real children is just awful. Imagine how insulted one of Onion’s victims would be if they saw that. Lord.

Ginger claims to care about victims, but she’s made it abundantly clear that she only cares about those that behave the way she think a victim should.

4. Ableism

I’m going to just show a couple posts here and let them mostly speak for themselves.

Just... my God. You looked at the definition of psychopath and decided that was enough to give you qualification to speak like this about it? Do you realize the extensive work and study of human psychology goes into the diagnosis and understandings of psychopathy? Not to mention, you just admit to thinking people deserve hate because of a mental disorder they legitimately have no control over? I’m sorry, but that is just cruel. Demonization of the mentally ill is not cute or funny. Next.

While I’m still annoyed with Emmy’s transphobic treatment of another user mentioned earlier, they make a very solid point in this instance. (The first post they referenced has since been deleted, but here’s the second one speaking out against the ableism.) I feel I don’t need to add much to this, as these points have already been argued very well by users better qualified to speak on the subject than I.

5. Manipulation tactics

This part is more observations of two kinds of abuse tactics Ginger appears to demonstrate, using the above as points of reference.

First, there’s DARVO.

Then, less formally, there’s this good point about online cult mentality.

Before you say anything, obviously I don’t think Ginger thinks of herself as some sort of deity. While it could be argued that she considers herself a point of authority within the TOA fandom maybe, I haven’t seen enough of this to say for sure how far that goes. So that point can be ignored, because it mostly doesn’t apply in this case. (The “Dictating parts of your online life” might also not apply, but I can’t say for sure as I haven’t gotten any confirmation of that sort of thing in Ginger’s group.)

But there are grains of truth in the other four points, especially that last one. Plain and simple, she’s made people afraid to speak their minds about even harmless things such as character analysis.

Ginger is someone who can’t seem to comprehend different viewpoints and life experiences. She’s extremely unsympathetic towards people she doesn’t understand, as can be observed in above examples. Assuming malicious intent from everybody you can’t understand is a dangerous and hurtful mindset to have, for both you and those who you unnecessarily scorn.

There are a few outcomes I’ve speculated should she ever come to see this post.

1. She will ignore this post completely, pretending as if it doesn’t exist

2. She will dismiss me as being some sort of horrible person, a p*do apologist or something of the sort (despite being a victim of that myself, clearly she doesn’t care about who’s actually been hurt by real p*dos or not if they don’t conform to her narrow worldview), and claim nothing I’ve said bears any meaning, despite the extensive evidence I’ve provided.

3. She will get people to try and attack me.

4. She will actually address these points in a tactful, mature, and serious manner instead of her usual act of trying to dismiss everything at the slightest hint of non-conformity. (The least likely outcome, but one can dream.)

I could add to this post all day, but it’s long enough as it is and my focus was on getting the main points out of the way. I understand that I lack some of the receipts necessary to back myself up in a few parts, but I know that many other fans have bared witness to those things, so I know there will be at least some people who’ll know what I speak of is true, and that’s good enough for me.

That being said, if anybody has screenshots of the instances I wasn’t able to provide for, it would be greatly appreciated if you could add them into the conversation.

!!!-If you have screenshots, but are too uncomfortable to get involved in this, then you can private-message them to me and I would be grateful and more than happy to add them in while keeping you completely anonymous.-!!!

(I've removed the section with all the tags, as I recognize it was probably going overboard. My goal was just to spread information, not to try and involve those tagged, but I understand how that may have gotten lost in translation and made people uncomfortable. Also, it apparently was showing up multiple times in people’s notifications when I only tagged people twice, so I’m not sure why that glitch happened, but I apologize for that annoyance as well.)

Now, to end us off, my responses to questions or angry comments I’m probably going to get:

You don’t even have all the evidence! How are we to know you’re not just lying about some of this?

Admittedly, I don’t have as much screenshot proof as I would like, that’s true. But for most of the instances I couldn’t provide for, there were other witnesses to her bad behavior. I don’t really have the need to lie when there’s already a lot of knowledge out there of the bad stuff she has done. Nor do I really have the emotional investment in this fandom anymore to lie for the pointless reason of causing drama.

Why post this on a throwaway account if you think people are on your side?

I just don’t really want my main blog associated with TOA anymore, to be frank.

You tagged a bunch of people, so you must be trying to get them to attack Ginger!

No. I tagged a bunch of people because I think this information should be heard on a wider scale, considering the position Ginger has in the fandom. I don’t want her or anybody else to be attacked, but her negative impact on this fandom deserves to be acknowledged.

Again, I don’t think Ginger or any of the others deserve harassment or cyberbullying or anything of that manner, that’s kind of what this whole post is against. And it just hurts the situation more than it helps it. What bothers me is how she’s never apologized for or even once acknowledged the gross way she’s treated people. While she might be more low-key about it now, she still treats people who don’t deserve it like garbage. There are still several people upset about the damage she’s caused to this fandom, rightfully so. I wouldn’t be so loud about making this post if I didn’t think it was something worth drawing attention to.

Thank you for reading.

#TrollHunters #3Below #TOAwizards #Tales of Arcadia #TOA

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anothertastelesstetrahedron · 3 years

Note

Descole headcanons maybe 👀

Did someone say Descole? 👀 I’m just gonna put the whole thing under the read more cut, since this ended up being a very long post - and I mean looooooong - like almost 3000 words long. Major spoilers for most of the games - mainly the Descole Trilogy (looking at you AL), but there’s also one UF one.

Des has terrible handwriting. I just think it would be funny if that's the one thing he cannot change about himself while impersonating someone else. He can manage faking signatures, but free writing as someone else? He has to try very, very hard to get that (nearly) right. Tbh for most of his roles that’s also hardly a problem, so he doesn’t bother.

He dehydrated/had a heat stroke at least once while in full costume. There must be a reason why Raymond tries so hard to make sure the AL gang takes water bottles, sunscreen and so on with them. Des has no self-preservation instinct (unless having Raymond around counts as Des taking care of himself?) He also probably almost died in Monte d’Or due to the heat.

Des beat up those guys who hurt Layton in UF. Listen, no one is allowed to hurt his bro except for him.

The first thing Des did after AL was visit Umid - after getting the much needed medical treatment. Because I absolutely love their interactions he promised to do so. It would be funny for him to show up in full costume as well.

Des eventually got used to Kietz (because the cat is now living with Raymond and Des. You cannot change my mind about that) At first he hated Kietz. Des is basically the old cat in the Bostonius that now has to get used to the new one lol

I know it was just the writers having no idea about Des’ backstory in LS but I still can’t stop thinking about how Hershel felt that Descole (in full costume) was familiar. So what if young Hershel Bronev actually liked to dress up in a costume similar to the Descole one? And that had left an impression on young Theo...

I also still cannot get over the fact that Des knows how to make Layton the perfect tea. Well, he had Raymond make it, but still. How does he know what kind Layton likes? Theory one: Layton’s taste hasn't changed from when they were kids. Theory two: He stalked observed Layton’s tea-drinking activities. Maybe he even posed as a waiter sometimes to find Layton’s favourite tea.

Des had kept track of how Layton was doing for a long time. He also was very close to introducing himself a couple of times. Obviously he never did. One reason why he decided against it was certainly to keep Layton away from everything. Des had given him the chance to live a peaceful life, so he obviously didn’t want to risk that. But that’s not all to it. Though Des hated himself for even feeling that, he was a bit jealous. It’s not that he regretted his decision from back then, but he still couldn’t help feeling that way. Plus, Hersh was a reminder of his past life. So while Des had his family that was another reason why he didn't approach - though in the beginning, he had actually thought even more about talking to Layton. However, Des had really tried to let go of his revenge and thus also his past - so Layton couldn't be a part of Sycamore's life. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he also couldn't help but think about their father whenever he looked at Hersh. He knows that’s not fair, but it’s what it is. The same way he thinks about Bronev whenever he sees his own eyes in the mirror. After his family’s death and after he became Descole he stopped approaching Hersh altogether and kept his distance. Not only because, again, he wanted to keep Layton out of all of this - even more so than before, because Des had already lost his family again, so losing Hersh was not an option (I write even though Des tried to kill Hersh himself hjasdjd)-, but also because he was afraid of how disappointed Layton would be were he to find out about all the things Descole had done. Des feared that he’d hate him.

Relating to one point in the previous point, Des absolutely hates mirrors. His reflection is bearable while being dressed as Descole, but he still avoids them like the plague. Even more so as AL Desmond. He also absolutely hates it when someone compliments his eyes - the thing he hates the most about his appearance.

Relating to that, I know Des’ glasses are just for show, but what if they are optical glasses nevertheless? Like, he cannot stand seeing clearly (especially since he ran into Bronev a couple of times and he absolutely doesn’t want to see that guy’s face). Maybe it’s also to help him distance himself even further from the others - especially Layton(?).

Des only possesses one photo of his family. It had been in his wallet when they died. I am just gonna assume Targent blew up his house, leaving Des with almost nothing. As much as he wishes to have the photo with him at all times, it's far too dangerous to do so while being Descole. Maybe Raymond keeps it safe? Or Des just keeps it in Desmond’s office? Maybe that was one of the things he actually liked while being Desmond again, at least he actually could carry the photo around this time.

Des lies a lot (obviously) - also to himself. (This is also me just trying to make his writing make more sense, since it often seemed to me he was written by 4+ people who didn't tell each other what they’ve written). I am thinking of that one bonus scene in MM where Des acts all empathetic towards Randall. “Just the thought of those poor parents, desperately looking for their own child.” That line does sound a lot like something Des himself knows too well… And then, one moment later, after Randall has left, Des just admits to himself that he’s just using Randall. (srsly writers??) I’m not saying that’s not right, because he’s certainly using him - no point in sugar-coating that - but he’s also very much trying to distance himself from Randall and his issues and reminding himself to focus on his goals and to not get distracted. Because Des does care. And I also think that he could have achieved his goal without Randall, but when he had learnt that Layton lost his best friend, Des tried everything in his power to get him back.

What is Des’ “true self”?

That is the one question I’m thinking about the most. It’s probably gonna get a bit complicated now… Let’s see if I can make my own words make sense (I really tried haha). For clarity's sake I’m gonna use three different names now: First, we have Des - the name I’m gonna use for the “true(est)” version of him - whoever that really is. Then we have Desmond - the AL Desmond Des “played” during AL. And, finally, there is Descole which is of course the Descole “role”.

Des has some serious identity issues - because of course he does. Descole started as a role (Des is even literally wearing a non-practical costume) that served a specific purpose. Des initially “created” Descole to have an outlet for all his rage and despair - and to get back at Targent without revealing himself. And I imagine some characteristics of Descole are things Des added, because he wanted Descole to appear a certain way different from how Des presented himself outside the costume. No one was to find who was behind the mask after all, so Descole had to act differently. Descole’s arrogance comes to mind, like that one just strikes me as not (fully) being Des himself. Des pretty much hates himself and blames himself for a lot of things. But Descole is also much more than a simple role. He’s very much a part of Des himself - it’s Des' own anger and his own feelings Descole is based on after all. Over the years, the lines between Des and Descole got more blurry. And now Des pretty much cannot tell the difference anymore between the things that make him him and the things he had just put into the Descole persona. So while Descole was initially based on parts of Des himself, over time Des truly lost himself in Descole who had become its own thing as well. Think method acting gone completely wrong - or right?

In a similar yet also opposite way, (AL) Desmond is also a role Des played during the game. Des said that he had just assumed Desmond’s identity again to get close to Layton and use him (which I don’t believe is 100% true, because I am convinced that a part of Des wanted to be saved. And also longed to see his brother again - and wanted Layton to like him), but it does make me think that Des mostly runs around as Descole. Obviously Des had kept the Desmond persona alive enough for Desmond to be regarded as a world-famous archeologist. But then again, it clearly doesn’t matter in the PL-universe if people don’t do their jobs.

I still do not know how much of Desmond is the “true” Desmond. Even if Des based Desmond on how he used to be with his family, there’s still the question how close Des actually comes to that. Memories can be deceiving and I doubt Des remembers exactly how he used to be. So maybe Desmond’s speaking style, his mannerism could be an act instead of that being Des’ true (past) self. Or which I like better, it’s a confusing mix between “lie” and “truth”. Some things are exaggerated (people tend to romanticize the past, so even with his family Des(mond) might not have been as nice as he presents himself to be as AL Desmond). Some aspects are more or less really Des(mond) and some other things are just stuff Des added to the Desmond role - consciously or not.

Let’s take this thought even further. When Des tried to leave his revenge behind and concentrate on his family, was that Des(mond) really his true(est) self? Or did Des play a role during that time as well (at least partly)? Des cannot let go. That has been shown throughout the games. So while he had tried to put Targent behind him, he might not have been able to do that completely. Thus he buried some things deep inside him and concentrated on “playing” Desmond Sycamore. Who might be the person he wished to be(?).

Long story short, I think that maybe AL Desmond is an idealised version of the Desmond Des used to be. Des acted like how he used to be while his family was still alive - or as much as possible, since he absolutely cannot let go of the pain completely. So his AL Desmond appearance could also be how he had looked like back then. I honestly do not even know if AL Desmond is the “true face” under the mask. Or if Desmond is also kind of like a “costume”. His appearance could be inaccurate as to how present Des really looks like. Descole’s character model also makes no sense. Like the hair that is sometimes visible doesn’t really look like Desmond’s most of the time after all. So is Descole wearing another wig? Is Desmond? I kind of like the idea that Des met Layton with his true appearance, so I’m on the fence here. Maybe he’s not wearing a wig, but extensions?I very much like the idea of Des appearing with his true face though… So I am kind of reluctant to have Desmond look too different from Des. Plus, Layton could have noticed if Desmond was in fact wearing a wig and that might have made Layton suspicious. But maybe Des dyed his hair a bit, and/or is wearing extensions? Maybe he actually already has grey hair, who knows. I certainly don’t.

However, I also believe that Desmond is far less of a role than Des probably thinks/admits. Over the course of the game, he might have lost himself in the Desmond role in a similar way to how he has lost himself in Descole.

Des' time as AL Desmond changed him for sure. And he does act differently as Descole after he changed into the costume than in the previous games. (I’m gonna make a whole separate post about how the German version uses different forms of politeness - and Des does speak rather … strange/different after his revelation than in other games… Again, I know that that’s just the writers being the writers, but where is the fun in that?)

Present day Des has probably no idea who his true self is anymore… Him “playing” Desmond further complicated things. Which parts did he make up, which parts are truly him? I don’t think there’s an easy answer to that… But that also makes Des so fascinating to me. I also really wonder what name he prefers after AL…

As much as I like the idea that Des himself came up with the plan to approach Layton as Desmond, I also very much like the idea that it had been Raymond instead who had suggested it. Raymond probably has to listen to a lot of Des’ angry rants. And after hearing another one about Layton seeing through one of Des’ disguises, Raymond came up with the idea to just go as himself next time. Partly also because Raymond knows Des better than anyone else and he knows how much Des longs to see his brother again - even if Des himself doesn’t admit that.

Des has acquired quite a lot of scars over the years… He does fall down a lot, so it’s bound to happen. He was probably wearing a fair bit of makeup in AL to hide some of them - in addition to his visible lack of sleep. Speaking of, I don’t think Des slept all that much during AL. He probably has nightmares that wake him up screaming. No way he could (or would want to) explain that to the others. Maybe that’s what he has been doing while he was not with the gang. He was taking a much needed nap… Or ...

… or he goes into the one room in the Bostonius that’s completely sound-proof (because that surely exists) and just screams (and cries) for a bit. In full Descole costume. He cannot bear being Desmond and being around the others at all times. He needs to have an outlet for his emotions.

Des really tried to retain his (emotional) distance from everyone in AL. I noticed that in the beginning he hardly ever said anything while I was clicking everything (and I hope believe that I’ve really clicked everything for potential Des dialogue). But he says more over time. It also takes a long time for him to talk about his family. So maybe that’s him slowly warming up to the others. Des was also probably still figuring out how to be Desmond (again). In a way, I think Desmond was one of his easiest yet also his most challenging role he ever had to “play”. No one is more familiar to him and yet also a total stranger. Plus, he had to be extra careful not to reveal too much. Can’t have been easy (which is why he needed to go scream for a bit sometimes).

He feels immensely guilty about caring for Aurora. He was especially reluctant to get closer to her, but he also just couldn't help caring for her. Because she reminded him of his daughter. He just feels very conflicted as he got more and more attached to her, not only because he knew he would eventually betray her, but he felt like in caring for Aurora he was betraying his daughter in a way… This guilt could apply to Flora as well when he eventually meets her.

One day after AL he found the Popoño he had bought for Aurora. He keeps it close ever since.

His revenge is achieved after AL, so there should be no reason for Descole to continue existing. But I don’t think Des will be able to let go of Descole right away. The AL ending shows that anyway. I feel him putting the mask back on in his last scene makes sense for him. He still cannot bring himself to leave Descole behind and he also very much still cannot bear to see his father’s eyes whenever he looks in a mirror. It would have been too sudden for him to just put all the pain behind him. Des’ revenge was basically also the one thing that defined his whole life. And Descole has been a part of his life for a long time as well - the pain and anger that led to Des creating Descole have been inside Des long before his family got killed. I can’t imagine it easy to just let go of all of that. Des is truly lost at the end of AL. He has lost his purpose, the one thing that made him go on. And he needs to figure out who he is himself. Even more so after his whole posing as Desmond again. I like to think that Des will be able to let go of Descole eventually, but that will be a slow process and not something that’s gonna happen overnight. Instead he’ll probably put on the costume fewer and fewer times until, eventually, Descole just disappears. Maybe he’ll stop when he runs out of costumes lol. No matter what, it’s gonna be a long road for Des to be able to heal… (And he should totally go get back to Layton and apologise to Layton and to a loooooot of other people and then they both go to therapy)

#well that descoleated quickly I guess...#finally answered after a long time - sorry for the wait #thank you so so much for the ask - I obviously love rambling about my dear Des <3 #I really hope this makes sense #I struggled a lot with certain parts (especially that super long Who is Des anyway? part)#headcanons aka me rambling on and on about Des <3 #I have a LOT of thoughts about him #jean descole #professor layton #professor layton spoilers #azran legacy spoilers #Descole breaks tumblr #tastelesstetrahedronthings

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fantastic-rambles · 3 years

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Ahhh yaknow what you’re right. I just went back and looked over some of the rod, and I didn’t see Langa explicitly agree to not to skate with Adam. He promised that he wouldn’t quit skating with Reki, but he only acknowledged Reki’s warning to not be reckless. It actually makes a bunch of sense why Langa would be confused by the distancing and argument. I see now why you were upset with Reki’s behavior. It feels kind of like a ‘secret contract’ sorta thing where Reki got upset over a broken rule Langa never realized he was supposed to abide by. And not only is that unfair like you said, but it flipped the situation as if Langa was being untrustworthy to his word when really Reki didn’t trust Langa not to quit skating with him just because of danger/injury. And especially since I’ve seen people make solid arguments for Langa being neurodivergent or neurodivergent-coded, it’s really not a stretch at all for him to see the situation like you did. Langa most likely saw the issue as solely reckless behavior leading to quitting. But clearly Reki’s own jealousy/insecurities added Langa preferring better skaters as potentially leading to them not skating together without ever discussing it until Langa was blindsided during the argument. I would’ve looked a better apology from Reki where he fully explained why he was upset when they were making up. It’s human for his feelings on the issue to change, but that should’ve been better expressed to Langa. Although Langa did a great job of accurately smoothing over what was bothering Reki without that. Maybe that’ll be rectified if he apologizes to Miya. I think Miya deserves one especially since Reki physically shoved him after he opened up about why his actions were such a sore spot for him. I actually thought Miya’s words would help Reki see the other side of things so seeing Miya get pushed was like a “Bro wtf??” moment for me. Again it’s understandable that people act out when they’re angry and Reki was obviously already struggling with his emotions, but it should be acknowledged again how wrong that was. Boy are you opening my eyes to a lot of problematic stuff lol.

Also, I’m very curious as to why you hate Shadow. For me, it’s because I can’t move past that comment in ep 1. I know ppl brush it off as just an (unnecessarily misogynistic) act for his persona, but that woman literally didn’t say anything to him and he insulted her for no reason by using her body as trophy to be defaced if he won. Ew. And just because he’s super nice to the flower shop lady, he does not get a pass. If he’s only respectful to women he’s attracted to and jumps at any other the opportunity to degrade women, he’s still a misogynist. And I’m pretty sure that he already new flower shop lady when the series started, so I don’t think you can argue that his character developed to be better towards women as a whole because of her or that he wouldn’t do something like that again at this point in the story. Especially since the goal of proving yourself as a “strong man” has not historically worked out to men being compassionate with women. (Tho within a vacuum devoid of his other actions, I can appreciate his commitment to a makeup routine)

Oh! And I would totally wanna read that fanfic if you write it!! I’m not even as gung-ho about Adam going to jail as most fans and Adam-haters tbh. Mainly because it’d probably be for political corruption via money bribes which is already kinda common and I don’t think the show has stated him to be doing anything particularly bad with it I don’t think so?? Like it seems to be mainly for the purpose of keeping S secret which is indeed a waste of money and effort when he could just buy it, but on the other hand, there doesn’t seem to be any ill consequences on the citizens the politician represents. So yea, it’s illegal so the jail time is technically deserved. But also like... no harm no foul🤷‍♀️ If he would be getting charged for assaulting other skaters than I definitely think that’s fair, but I doubt that’ll happen in the show just because I feel like no one will actually say anything when the time comes partially due to the shock of his arrest if they’re even involved. And I mean, Cherry was pissed at Adam for getting skaters hurt but still rolled out the hospital and joked like he was fine, so I just don’t particularly see anyone calling him out on it to the point of it being apart of his sentencing. The end of ep 11 with Cherry and Joe arguing about one of them going against Adam just doesn’t sound like condemning him to battery charges to me XD

But yaknow I’ve been loving hurt/comfort type fics lately, so I’d be really interested in seeing Adam truly work and change himself for some type of redemption in that setting. I can see hitting rock bottom as being really good for him given it may provide a reprieve from having to manage his image. Adam is underrated in complexity so it’s always cool when people try to flesh him out more and dive into his inner world. And of course Tadashi is kind of my fave (if you couldn’t tell) so I love anything healing for him as well :)

Yep, I was majorly pissed at Reki for how he treated Langa and Miya. His behavior is absolutely problematic. Not as bad as Adam, obviously, but with everything I’ve said and you’ve realized... yeah. I’m glad he made up with Langa and will probably make up with Miya, but it doesn’t invalidate everything he’s done before. Yes, he’s still an immature teenager, but I don’t think he realizes how messed up his behavior was, even after making up with Langa (the resolution seems to be based on him accepting that he’s not an ace skater, rather than recognizing how toxic his behavior was), so I’m still not satisfied. But hey, it’s probably just me being hyperfixated on trivial details that nobody else even cares about. /shrug

(I’m glad to know that I wasn’t misinterpreting the “promise,” or lack thereof, though!)

And I have two major problems with Shadow. My first--and biggest--problem is, as you’ve pointed out, that he’s an enormous misogynist. At “S,” people have the freedom to be exactly who they are beneath the facades that they show to the world. For example, Adam is someone desperately searching for someone who can understand him, not the perfectly put-together politician Shindo Ainosuke. Cherry and Joe are more true to their “real life” selves, but there are differences in their behavior on the track and off. And then there’s Shadow, the overcompensating “strong man” who threatens to make a guy tattoo “Dumpster Slut” over his girl’s name. So I 100% agree with everything you said about Shadow. He’s a chauvinistic pig.

The second problem is that I honestly think his actions when he’s racing are worse than Adam’s, and the only reason it’s not made out as such is because he’s the buttmonkey rather than the villain. I believe that, as problematic as Adam’s antics are, he does not intend to cause severe physical harm to his opponents. I’ve discussed this idea in more detail in other posts, but in short, even in the most extreme case--Cherry’s--his injuries were far lighter than they would have been if Adam had seriously wanted to hurt him. Death, coma, etc. were all highly probable outcomes of that situation, so the only reason they didn’t happen was because Adam was holding back. Or anime logic. But even anime logic can only stretch so far. And against lesser opponents like Reki, he generally holds onto them to ensure that they don’t accidentally hurt themselves when they’re panicking.

Of course, Shadow doesn’t intend to cause severe physical harm to his opponents either, but he does not exert any control over the situation after he throws fireworks at his opponent or shines a laser in their eyes. We’ve twice seen his opponents fall off the course as a direct result of his actions: Reki in the first race, Harry in the quarterfinals. They could have just as easily fallen off the cliff or slammed into a wall (at full speed) and been badly injured. If Shadow were an actual villain, I fully believe that he would have an actual body count of people who died racing against him (as opposed to Adam’s trail of injured opponents). So it bothers me that people shrug off what Shadow does while screaming for Adam’s death.

As for the scandal subplot... I’m *pretty* sure it’s a lot more serious than Adam bribing the police to leave “S” alone. I think he’s actually involved in some majorly shady/illegal activities politically. Like, in Episode 7, when the other Diet member gets pulled over, arrested, and has his house searched... there’s no way that has anything to do with “S.” At the very least, the two of them were collaborating on something really bad, something serious that Adam lied about under oath, and that’s enough for Adam’s staff to worry about what’s going to happen, especially Tadashi. We don’t know what it is specifically, but it’s definitely a lot more than just passing out bribes to hide “S.”

Lol, I’ll have to see how it goes. Probably won’t start it until after the anime finishes at the very least so I can see how it turns out for Adam and Tadashi, plus I have another half dozen WIPs at the moment and nowhere near enough time to work on them all. xD

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drwcn · 4 years

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... I must say, it's really nice to know it wasn't only I who found book!LWJ's attitude unnerving. He was shown a posessive there, I think? The funniest thing that TGCF I actually liked, because despite one of 'merry couple' fangirling for another for years, he still gave him free space and trusted to make his own decisions.

Hi anons! :)

This post is gonna get kind of wanky, so be warned. If you don’t want wank, well don’t read this post. I really don’t like to answer wank asks because only positive vibes for my blog please and thanks (but don’t worry anons, I’m not mad, I’m just gonna put the three of you together so I can talk about some of mdzs’s problems once and for all). Also disclaimer: my opinions are my own, I could be wrong about some things. I have only dabbled in the novel, some chapters here and there, and I really couldn’t finish it. I went ahead and read the original text, which is actually quite well written all things considered. The translations are fine, but it just doesn’t quite hit the spot. Thus, if I said some things which are factually incorrect, I am not opposed to being notified.

First and foremost, for the anon that asked “what’s wrong with mxtx?” The short answer is nothing is wrong with her. She’s an author who writes popular online novels with a wide readership. Clearly people are receptive to what she’s putting out there. Good for her, you know. It’s not easy to be that well received.

But in terms of her novels, there are several things that I personally don’t like. I’m just gonna list some of the things she’s said about MDZS/CQL. I have not consumed any of her other work.

First, her treatment of her female characters. In an interview, she literally said that most of the men in her MDZS novel are single because she didn’t want to come up with names for their wives. Like....what the fuck. Take from that what you will. Also, look at her female characters. Seriously, what kind of fates did they have? According to another OP, all the female characters’ lines in MDZS added up to 50 sentences. Don’t quote me on this, I did not fact check. This is just what I heard. But even within the narrative itself, let’s do a body count. Jiang Yanli died for plot. Wen Qing died for plot. Qin Su existed and died for plot. A-Jing existed for 45 seconds and then died for plot. Baoshan exists in narration only. Madam Yu was a raging asshole. Madam Jin treated Jin Guangyao like trash. Cangse Sanren: dead. Mama Lan: (no name lol) dead. Where are the fucking women? Where? Let’s not forget all the other women that existed purely as plot device: Sisi, Bicao, Meng Shi. Mianmian is the only one who lived, but she literally had to - quote Eliza Hamilton - “take myself out of the narrative” to do it.

Second, and this is a well known thing: mxtx claimed that the only canon gay relationship is wangxian, everyone else is straight because she doesn’t think it’s likely that there are that many gay people. If we interpret other male characters as couples, we’re free to have our own interpretation. ... ..... .... I’m fucking speechless. But also laughing because LHK and ZZJ literally ignored canon, and straight up made LXC and MY have a meet cute in class in front of everyone.

Third, but not least, let’s talk about book!Lan Wangji. The following will strictly be talking about book!Lan Wangji and not show!Lan Wangji. Show Lan Wangji is very nuanced and WYB’s micro-expressions are great. (You’re doing amazing sweeties, don’t ever stop).

What, pray tell, is book!LWJ’s personality? Silence is not a personality. book!LWJ is what we critics in the drama world call “高冷霸道总裁”, which is a trope in and of itself. And there’s nothing wrong with tropes, except a lot of viewers are getting...kind of sick of it, because it’s getting a little repetitive.

高冷 = arrogant and cold, but like... in an admirably good way. Or as I like to call it, a stick up the butt and no communication skills.

霸道总裁 = The Big Boss. Attention: lemme use some heteronormative language here for a second because most of cdrama is written this way. The Big Boss is the fictional counterpart to the real life 高富帅 (gao fu shuai: tall, rich and handsome, the moniker for an ideal husband) that many aunties and mothers wish their daughters could marry. This kind of character is tall, rich and will swoop in to save the damsel-in-distress - erm, I mean the strong independent female character - when she’s in trouble. Because even though she’s a strong independent character, and sometimes even the main character, somehow her fellow male lead still has to play her knight in shiny armor. Not like, he’ll sit down and listen to her talk about her problems, no, no, he has to pay for her expenses, bail her out of trouble, save her life, sacrifice himself, go against the world for her... sounds familiar???

Yeah.

And like, some novels do “the big boss” trope better than other. They give the “the big boss” a human side, let him interact with side characters, allow him to have friends, build on other relationships, such that he is 3D and can stand on his own. Eternal Love of Dream’s DongHua Dijun is a recent example which I think did a pretty good job of writing a male character that doesn’t let him revolve around the love interest 24/7.

book!LWJ doesn’t work for me because what exactly is his character growth? He serves to back up Wei Wuxian and.....????? He’s so flat in his character built. He loves Wei Wuxian and....that’s it. What else is there? If there’s other character traits y’all picked up on that I didn’t, please let me know because I find him so boring and at times disturbing (in terms of the nature of his physical relationship with Wei Wuxian).

In CQL, we saw Lan Wangji change as a character, we saw him struggle with morals and values, struggle against tradition and family and societal expectations. We watched him witness the death of Wei Wuxian and move on to face life afterwards. We know through the actions of Lan Sizhui that he helped raise a child who didn’t just follow rules blindly. When Wei Wuxian came back, we saw a matured Lan Wangji who had come into his own and was comfortable in his own skin. And in the end, when the dust settled and the truth was revealed, he rose to the occasion. Jin Guangyao’s death left a power vacuum, and Lan Wangji filled it. Someone once wrote an excellent post about Lan Wangji being attracted to Wei Wuxian’s sense of justice (recall Wang Yibo’s change in expression when Wei Wuxian prayed during the lantern ceremony). I think that is exactly right. For two individuals with such different personalities, their bond in my opinion lies in their ability to see right and wrong beyond rules and laws and customs.

In the book, canon ended with the two main character going at it in the grass, and I guess...yeah that’s cool. Happy ending right? But what they did learn? What was the point? Lan Wangji had lived 13/16 years without Wei Wuxian. He knew who he was. But for Wei Wuxian, he came back to life in another person’s body and went through a gazillion different revelation within days. He needed to find himself again, discover who he is, what he wants in this new life. That is a process he needs to do by himself, without external influences and pressure. He needs to be given a chance to decide that Lan Wangji is who he wants in this life, not in the last life, and when he does Lan Wangji will still be here, waiting for him, as he has always waited for him. Lan Wangji is the rock, the constant, the home that Wei Wuxian could always fall back on. He is not a prison, not a master, not the dictator of Wei Wuxian’s life. Theirs should be a partnership of respect and understanding. They are soulmates not only in the romantic sense, but because they understand each other better than anyone else.

Book!LWJ does not give us that. What it does give us is a badly written sexual intercourse that gives me the heebee-jeebees. Sometimes I think it’s even weirdly dub-con without intending to be dub-con. The truth is I can’t even begrudge mxtx for it, because she is not the only one to write in this way. I’ve read other c-novels and many many of them are like that. And here is where we’re getting into the discussion of cultural understanding/acceptance of sex, relationship, consent, gender roles and the what is taught to young adults in school. That is a rabbit hole I won’t go into.

So that’s it. My thoughts.

#cql wank #Anonymous #corie replies

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generallynerdy · 4 years

Text

To Lose Control (Loki X Shifter!Reader)

Summary: Loki, Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three are on another hunting expedition, where they find themselves hunting down a wolf-like beast terrorizing a local village. Left behind once again, Loki’s wounds are tended to by a mysterious figure.

Requested by Anon: Can you write a fic where an injured Loki is tended to by an also injured reader? The reader is bleeding a bit worse than Loki though, and refuses to rest bc they know who he is an don’t trust him to not slit their throat while they sleep lol. Bonus if they’ve got the power to shift into a giant wolf?

Key: (Y/N) - your name Warnings: minor injuries, magic curses, mentions of death, mentions of mind control, mentions of committing a lot of murder Word Count: 1,139

Note: funny enough i already had a concept for a shifter!reader when i got this request lol. This is kind of shitty but oh well!

“There it is!”

“Over there!”

“Quick, after it!”

Loki, Prince of Asgard, chased after his older brother and his four comrades. Through the trees they weaved, following a shadow through the forest. The shadow was far faster than they were, but Loki’s magic saw to it that a faint green trail of massive footprints was there to lead the way.

This-- this was the very reason Loki didn’t enjoy hunting expeditions.

They were savage ordeals; pursuing a beast to hunt down, skin, and bring home wasn’t exactly his idea of a good day. However, Thor would never take no for an answer.

So, Loki went along with it this time, though he didn’t refrain from complaining about it.

This hunt was a little different. They had been summoned by a small village on a planet he didn’t care to remember the name of. The people there were being terrorized by a vile, wolf-like beast, which they could not catch, no matter how many men they had. They hoped, rather foolishly, that a pair of godly brothers and their friends would have better luck.

It had been 3 days. This was the first time they were even seeing the beast.

The creature was a mess of dark grey fur, streaking through the forest faster than any human could move. Unfortunately for it, gods were stubborn.

With a wave of his hand, Loki found himself running just as quickly as the creature.

He matched its pace, coming up behind it as it attempted to speed up.

“Loki! Be careful!”

Loki ignored his brother’s exclamation, not realising that he was speaking of something other than the creature.

The trickster god tumbled into a camouflaged ditch, one that sank into the very depths of the earth. It broke open into a deep cavern with a thundering stream.

Loki barely got a look at his surroundings before the world started to fade away. He could only watch helplessly as the shadows of his brother and his friends passed over the cavern, leaving him behind-- again.

Loki awoke to find that he wasn’t alone.

He tried to jump up, to defend himself, but even sitting up made a pained gasp leave his throat. All he could manage was to back up against the cold wall of the cavern he’d quite literally tripped into.

On the other side of the cavern was not what he expected.

It was...a person.

A person with an arrow sticking out of their thigh.

You winced as you pulled the offending object out, though you bit your lip to keep from making any obvious noise. As soon as it was gone, you took to dressing the wound, sparing a sharp glance at the man across the cavern.

Loki eyed you with a frown, gaze drifting from your face to the arrow.

He gaped a little when he recognised it. That was one of Sif’s-- he’d bet his life on it. But as to why one of Sif’s arrows was in a human’s leg…

“Your friends have good aim,” you hissed at him.

He blinked a few times. “They’re not my friends.” Then, he frowned. “But I’ve never known Sif to fire on an innocent.”

“Far from innocent,” you snorted, settling back onto the wall.

For a long moment, he simply stared. You waited for him to put two and two together. It wasn’t as if there were many things his friends-- or his not friends, you supposed-- were hunting in these woods. And apparently Sif didn’t miss.

“You’re the beast,” he finally said.

You rolled your eyes. “Took you long enough. You should rest, your highness. You hit your head rather hard.”

“You…” he tilted his head. “You’ve been cursed?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always been like this,” you said with a shrug.

Loki shook his head. “You know who I am. How?”

“Everyone knows the Asgardians around here. They practically still worship you lot,” was your answer. You grimaced. “Except me. I know about Midgard. What happened there.”

He flinched visibly, which made you raise an eyebrow. “Don’t remind me.”

“Not fond of getting your ass kicked?” you asked.

“It wasn’t my choice,” he spat.

It was your turn to frown. “Wasn’t your choice? How many people died on that planet because of what you did?”

“You don’t know what happened,” he growled. “You don’t know half of it.”

You paused, thinking. “Someone forced you to do it then? Had you at sword-point? Took control of you?”

He crossed his arms and sunk deeper into himself. “Twisted my mind. Forced me to do the unspeakable. Not unlike you’ve done to the people of this world.”

“Touché,” you muttered.

“You don’t have any control over it, do you?” he asked.

You snarled at that. “What do you care? You came here to kill me.”

“I was forced to come here to hunt-- it’s my brother’s favourite hobby,” Loki drawled, irritated. “And I know what it looks like.”

You shook off his comments. “You need sleep.”

“So do you and I don’t see you settling in for the night.”

“I’m not fond of getting my throat slit while I sleep,” you shot back with a fierce glare. “No offense, but I don’t exactly trust you.”

He snorted. “Then we can agree on something.”

For the better part of an hour, the cavern was washed in silence again. He would spare a few wary glances, but you hardly looked at him. You only looked toward the entrance, cautious as ever. The hunters would come back around soon, if they were smart, and they’d likely be looking for Loki, too. Maybe. He didn’t seem too sure about that fact, if his attitude about his brother and company was anything to go by.

“I could help you.”

You nearly jumped at the sound, instead focusing your shock into turning to look at him incredulously. “What?”

“Magic is where my strength lies,” he clarified half-heartedly. “I could find a way to break the curse, you could get me out of here, and then we’re even.”

You squinted at him. “I already helped you. You don’t have to stay. You could leave whenever you want. Why would you help me?”

Loki simply shrugged, as if he didn’t have an answer. But the both of you knew perfectly well what his answer was. He knew what it was like. He knew what it was like and he hated to watch someone else lose control of their life. He hated having to watch them commit the atrocities that were all too familiar to him.

“Okay,” you said eventually, in a whisper. “If you can do it-- I’ll take it.”

Despite himself, Loki smiled. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N),” you told him. “But if you start using it, I reserve the right to use yours.”

He scoffed. “Fair enough.”

Nova Tags: @hahaboop

Masterlist

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fandom-imagination-ss · 4 years

Text

Imagine: learning about the supernatural life from Klaus and him asking you too go too New Orleans with him

Author note: this is a request from @nick-1432 who gave me rang too write a Klaus imagine! Only had 3 things she wanted 1) be a Klaus x reader 2) be out by today ( for her birthday if possible) and 3) make it long lol 😂. I just moved back home so (yesterday) so I’ve been busy. But somehow I got this done! I had too for nicks-1432 birthday! So.. since I’ve been moving, and unpacking / packing this isn’t proof read. And I hope it’s good. And long enough! (And also that you wanted a girl reader. As I’m writing this note. I fucking realized you could be a male 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️. I should of asked. If you are male I will write a even longer Imagine too replace this one !!! In advance I’m sorry!)

Did I proof read?: No sorry 😐

Rating : pg 13, mentions of death but it’s TVD ppl die lol

Fandom: the vampire diaries/ the originals

Word count : 16,746 ( nine pages lol 😂 hope it’s long enough!)

Being Elena’s twin was difficult, like when you were int e car with your parents and Her, when it crashed. Elena got out without a scratch, you got out. So badly damaged the doctors put you into a medical induced coma for a few months too help your body heal. When you woke up everything was different. Your world turned upside down. You struggled with your new reality with No parents, your sister being distant and cold and not telling you anything. Your brother soon joined in on keeping secrets from you and trying too distract you from the truth. It soon traveled thru your group of friends, from Caroline , Tyler, Matt, and Bonnie. They all kept secrets from you. Everyone in your life started treated you differently after the accident. Poor damage orphan. Who was on the brick of death. It drove you crazy , epically having too sit back and watch your sister make some..interesting choices. In her life. From Dating Stefan who was Nice and Kind respectful even. Too Damon who seemed like a complete Asshole. Who is Stefan’s older brother.

Luckily the only other person who was in the dark with you was Aunt Jenna. It gave you some comfort knowing you weren’t the only one. Who was clearly in the dark about your family. Jeremy was rarely ever around and Elena was always coming in Late or not at all. You figured she was going too Stefans place. Aunt Jenna was cool about it. Then the unthinkable happened your Aunt passed away. A wild animal attack. It broke you too pieces.

Having your parent gone, then your guardian your siblings were speechless and sad. When your uncle John arrived he lasted a few days but Elena, and Jeremy kicked him out. Having your History teacher and Aunt Jenna’s boyfriend Aleric being your guardian. That was your Tipping point.

You weren’t a huge fan of Uncle John he was. Okay. But at least he was family. And he was stepping up too care for you three. Elena and Jeremy decided for you that he wasn’t good enough that some guy who Jenna dated for a few months was better then blood? You were furious. Done with the secrets, and them dictating what is best for you. You had a teammate. Between their lies, and secrets and them treating you like a kid! Especially Jeremy treating you like a kid. Being older then him it should be you who was over protective of your baby brother! You were in contract with Uncle John Finished with them. Even the new comers the Mikaelson couldn’t change your mind even those. They were close.

Everyone was curious about them. The Dashing. Well dressed Elijah who looked like a Prince in another life strong chin, big brown eyes. Very formal and polite, Rebecca who was the only girl. Blonde hair that was long and shinny, pail reflection like her brothers. A sight attitude but is the only person in the entire town of Mystic falls who will tell you the truth too your face. And Klaus.

Trouble maker Klaus, who pushed everyone’s buttons in your life, Elena, Jeremy, Even your friends warned you too stay away from them. Even Aleric and Stefan and Damon who you weren’t close with all begged you too Not go near them. Of course them being the ONLY people in the entire town besides your aunt too treat you like A adult. You didn’t listen.

One day. Rebecca invited you over for a sleep over. You gladly accepted, you thought it was a sleepover. But they all sat you down and they told you everything. About vampires, werewolves, witches, hybrids about your family line being full of vampire hunters, too how Aunt Jenna who recently died. Actuallyq died) about the reasonings, about all the secrets they all kept from you.

Having a huge crush on Klaus didn’t stop the fact he killed your Aunt. You went too leave until they informed you about a ancient Threat that made the ‘original vampires scared” you told them too screw themselves and went home.

Getting home you got Thur the front door seeing No one, Like always they were all gone. Typical.

Hearing your phone bing you looked down seeing it was your uncle Jon getting back too your text. Who you now know is your biological father. And that Alerics dead wife is your biological mother. And that your parents adopted you from them..

Uncle Jon:I’m sorry Y/N I would love too have you but I can’t- I think your siblings need you more. I’m sorry I’ll call on the weekend and we can talk about this okay?I’m sorry kiddo

Reading the text you ended up tossing your phone too the sofa as you turned seeing Rebecca at the doorframe.

“Mind if I come in?”

Turning too her you held your arms, “So that myth about having too be invited is fake?”

“No. Unfortunately.”

You rolled your shoulders, “Fine- come in. If you came too suck my blood. It’s probably too biter to be good right now.” She chuckled weakly. “Please I prefer my meals too be male.” She walked in as she spoke, “how are you?”

You shook your head weakly looking around, “Since Jenna. I’m always alone.. I lost basically All my friends because they all kept me in the dark about this stupid town! And the only person I had was Jenna.. and your brother killed her!”

“I’ve seen Klaus kill thousands of people in his lifetime.. Jenna was the Only one that he felt bad about- He knew that she was all you had-what.. what can I do too help.”

You cried stepping over hugging her. She was stunned but hugged back as you cried. She was always strong but Rebecca was soft As you spoke, “uncle Jon wont take me.. I’m stuck in this Hell hole.- Why tell me.. about all the this?”

Becca hold tighter as she spoke, “we don’t want too see you get killed because you were clueless. We all care for you. It’s one of the factors that have bonded us lately.- When Klaus calmed down and realized what he did.. he destroyed the house. It was the first time we ever seen him remorseful.. he’s truly sorry for harming you. It was the last thing he ever wanted.”

Pushing back. You breathed deeply. Looking at your best friend. You rubbed your face collecting your thoughts as you spoke, “It was Elena, and Stefans, and Jeremy – it was their fault too.”

She was surprised hearing that response, “if they told Us about you, all or about Why your so dangerous- about all the he dangers in this town. Maybe! Jenna wouldn’t be dead! I’m Furious at Klaus but I’m More angry at the betrayal of my own blood!”

“come sleep over we can talk this out, and you wont get a truthful answer from your family.”

Nodding your. Head you agreed too that as you went upstairs too pack.

Collecting your phone before you left. You Got too Rebecca mansion too see Klaus having a glass of whiskey you walked over grabbing it from him drinking it all as you spoke, ‘you killed my aunt!” You hit him as he took it.

Hitting him over and over again you cried. As you fell too the ground Klaus never hit back. He stood there taking your punishment until he crashed down. Next too you hugging you. Gripping up too his shirt pulling him closer as you cried into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.”

Klaus let you cry your heart felt like it was about too explode, your stomach was so tense you felt like you were about too break. As you bawled. Everyone you loved. Cared for has lied too you.. and it took Jenna’s killer and he’s siblings too tell you the truth.

After crying your phone dinged too see you had a text from Aleric, Elena and Jeremy wondering where you are. You whipped your cheeks as you looked down at them.

“will you kill them?”

That got everyone too tense up, “my family- are you planning too kill anymore of them?”

“No- I need Elena alive,And I swear not too harm Jeremy.” Looking up at Klaus you thanked him and Rebecca took you too her room so you can talk it out.

Weeks passed you weren’t as close with Klaus as you were before. The whole “killing your aunt” really drove a wage between your relationship with him. Which hurt you wanted Klaus around.

You thought you were hanging the trauma and heartbreak of everything. Then Elena turned into a vampire. Of course NO ONE TOLD YOU! You never told your family you knew. Or your friends about all their secrets. It was Klaus who appeared into your room one day. Telling you what happened too Elena. Rebecca ran them over the bridge that your parents died on. Stefan saved Matt and Elena died with Damons blood in her. Turning her into a vampire. You were furious at Rebecca. And Soon Elena started bootcamp too survive being a vampire. Her being turned. Changed your thoughts on Klaus. Then Jeremy Died. you realized. Elena was death.. And she loved being a vampire, but when Jeremy died. She flicked a switch and her humanity’s was gone. Klaus begged you too move in with him for your safety. And you accepted. Elena terrified you. Especially her doppelgänger Katherine who was always around. So you agreed. With the new threat around. Being with murderous honest vampires.. Not so bad compared too your sister.

Before Elena turned her switch she was thriving and back too her bubbly old self before your parents death. She was truly happy. So you forgive Rebecca. It’s been weeks living with them. You just returned from a day of shopping. Rebecca’s suggestion wanting too find the perfect dress for prom. You were exhausted! Stretching out on your bed. Surrounded by bags as Klaus walked by your open door seeing the damage you and Rebecca did on the family money (that Rebecca thankfully offered too pay since your part time job at the grill would pay for one item you got together)

“did you and Rebecca leave anything in the store?” You grinned weakly hearing Klaus’s voice you shook your head. “Barely. Only the mustered color stuff.” He chuckled as you opened your eyes shifting too sit up as he spoke, ‘did you find a dress for the Prom?” You nodded your head weakly. “Yea. Rebecca picked it out.- I’m still unsure.”

Klaus leaned against the doorframe as he spoke, “let me see.”

Getting too your closest pulling out a pink dress, it was a corset top, with a ball gown skirt, every inch was sparkles it reflected softly on the lights in your room as klaus turned around and you realized he wanted you too try it on. You did. Stripping quickly and hopping into it you spoke up, ‘it’s so.. reveling those. I mean it’s slightly low, and my back..”

Klaus turned looking at you as he spoke, “you are a vision. You breathtaking Y/N” smiling weakly you thanked him as he stepped over as he spoke, “you could wear a potato sack and be potato sack and be beautiful.” Feeling your face going red he breathed deeply as he spoke, ‘what unworthy boy is taking you too prom?’

“None- I’m going alone..” that surprised Klaus as he spoke, “really?” You nodded your head, “yea- Matt asked me but that would be too weird.. and with Elena being- bat shit crazy.. and Caroline and Stefan- whatever they are doing and Bonnie.. it’s easier. Less complicated..”

“I’ll take you.”

Smiling hearing that you nodded your head “sure.” He smiled as he went too go as he turned looking at you, “I was going too ask- what are your plans for after graduation? You apply for any schools?”

Shaking your head slightly you spoke, “No- it’s.. I.need a break and too explore.. I’m taking a year off.” With that he walked off.

Prom was perfect. Shortly after Rebecca, Klaus and Elijah were needed in New Orleans and they left you too watch the place. It was only there did you realize they weren’t coming back. It broke your heart. Then graduation came And you were waiting in line too get your diploma, uncle John wasn’t here. Even those you invited him. Elena smashed that idea of having him here. Elena got up and everyone cheered and clapped for her you got up after her getting your diploma when you noticed Klaus in the crowd. He was near the front clapping loudly. With a big smile on his face. You smiled brightly seeing him. Getting off the stage you waited with the rest of your class.

Finishing the ceremony. You leaped off the stage hugging Klaus tightly. “Thank you.” He smiled hugging you back as he spoke, “I couldn’t miss this- Rebecca apologize and Elijah they wanted too come but things in New Orleans are sticky..”

You pushed back holding his face as you smiled brightly. You dreaded today. Having no family with you too celebrate, with Being stuck with Death herself. And your friends who kept you in the dark. You smiled so wide it made Klaus smile back. Looking at you. Seeing this. One kind act make you smile so wide and bright. It made the tough cruel Klaus melt. You were the only person without a motive. He’s meet thousands of people who had motives too kill him or use him. And then their was you. Who just wanted him for himself. It was a different feeling that Klaus wasn’t use too.

You reached up kissing him which surprised Klaus as you pulled back “thank you.”

A huge goofy smile appeared on his face as you dashed over too Elena and hugged her. And your friends. Seeing Klaus changed your mood incredibly. When it was all said and done after Jeremy was brought back too life. (By magic. Which you weren’t sure what happened. He just came back too life) you were sitting on the bleachers with Klaus looking at the football field that held up to be the graduation. Looking out at the field Klaus spoke up, “congratulations Y/N.”

Facing Klaus you smiled brightly reaching over grabbing his arm. “Thanks- and thank you for coming I was dreading this all month-having you here.. felt like I wasn’t alone.”

He smiled weakly as he spoke, “Still going on a grand adventure for a year?”

Nodding your head looking around, “with all the lies and descent and Death around here.the farer away the better.”

“glad too hear that.” Glancing over at Klaus he looked at you shifting too look at you better as he spoke “come with me.”

‘excuse me?”

He chuckled softly rubbing his neck, “Come with me too New Orleans, we all miss you. Especially Me.. Come with me. Let me show you the world. Music , the arts, History music. Let me share it with you.”

You grabbed his hand tightly as you spoke, “Only- if you promise it can be forever.” He squeezed back as he spoke, “you want too turn?”

“Maybe- If I want too.. can you. Be the one?” He nodded his head. You reached over hugging him tightly, “Don’t get your hopes up. On that. But take me with you Klaus. Don’t leave me behind again”

“okay.”

A year passed with learning that Klaus one night booty call got pregnant with. His baby. You and Elijah (who was madly in love with Hailey) you both were on pins and needles wondering how that would play out. You got a Job at a Bar- Mystic Falls was a training area for the big league for Vampires and werewolves and witches. A turf war was going on. The Mikaelson convinced each group that you weren’t involved. That you weren’t some Ploy you were human. So they mostly left you alone.

Klaus has been acting weird lately. You seen the good , the bad, and Now your seeing the awkward. You enter a room and he excuses himself, he spends. Little times around you. Rebecca said you were imagine it. But Elijah noticed and often talked too Klaus about it.

Hope was fussing so you were soothing her as she went back too sleep.

“You’re a natural.”

Turning too Klaus seeing him leaning against the door . You smiled as he walked over helping you put her down .

“do you want this…”

That surprised you. Turning too Klaus you shook your head. “I love Hope- but IM not.. Anywhere Close too being ready for a baby.. I don’t know if I want it. Why?”

“you asked too be changed.” “Maybe.” Correcting him he nodded his head. “If your changed.. you can’t have this..”

“ you impregnate a werewolf… Never say never.”

Klaus frowned hearing that as he spoke, “you know that was a fluke.”

Nodding your head weakly you turned too Klaus rolling your shoulders, “IM not thinking about having babies. Hell- I haven’t had a serious relationship… I’m far too young.-“ he nodded his head looking at Hope.

“is that why you been involving me lately? Your scared I want a baby. And too stay human?”

“I’m Not good..”

“I’ve seen you with Hope- your Goodness is there. Klaus- You shown it with me. From the beginning. You’re the kindest. Person I know. You tell me the truth even if it’s not Kind. But you know how much I appreciate the truth. That’s showing me kindness. Hope is so lucky too have you. I’m so happy too have you.”

“I want more.”

That surprised you as he rubbed his face, “I love you. Always have. Always will.. I want too be selfish and bite you and keep you..”

Nodding your head. You reached over grabbing his hand. “I love you too…I .. I’m not ready too give up my human status.. you okay with that?”

He nodded his head stepping over kissing you. You smiled kissing him back.

You knew eventually too keep. Klaus , Rebecca, Elijah you would have too change. But for Right now. You were happy.

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Futamono

2x06

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, mental health problems, jail, sorta cheating? If not i’m walking a fine line

Author’s Note: This episode! It hit different. In particular there are a few scenes that I am very excited for you to read so reactions are greatly GREATLY appreciated because I love love reading them as they come. I really hope you enjoy! not gonna lie its hard to write something that might hurt will so i might just protect him through and through lol

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary : A city councilman's body is found intertwined with a tree, Jack crashes Hannibal's dinner party to investigate Will's suspicions, and a revelation shocks everyone

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95

(not my gif)

The Baltimore State Hospital was colder than usual. You felt it as you walked down the hallway to where Will was. You felt odd. Like your stomach was in knots and you never had that with Will. He never gave you that feeling.

As you stopped in front of the cell he turned around. He sat down, like he would usually when you were there. He kept note that you did not sit down on your white line, nor did you approach the bars. You weren’t scared of him, he knew you weren’t. But you didn’t look exactly happy with him either.

“Hi,” Will said, breaking a crackling loud silence.

“Hannibal Lecter is alive. In case you were wondering.”

“I was not,” he told you. You let out an annoyed sigh and looked down at the ground. You had thought about how to approach this with Will but every rehearsed conversation felt wrong. This didn't feel exactly right either.

“Will,” you whispered and met his eyes. He stared at you and you stared at him. You shared a few words with your eyes.

“Chilton will have a hard time figuring out this conversation,” he muttered and you cracked a small smile.

“You can’t send a man to kill Hannibal even if you think that he is the Ripper.” He raised a betrayed eyebrow.

“I didn’t send anyone to kill Hannibal. And are you saying he isn’t the Ripper? Did his kiss persuade you that much?”

You imagined Chilton hearing that over the speaker. Probably got popcorn to accompany this conversation for the dramatic guy he was.

“I still think he is.”

“And you have no problem with that?”

“Of course I have the problem with murder,” you breathed. You sat down on the white line finally and he was happy to see you at his eye level again. You stared at each other hard and he knew you knew that he sent someone to kill Hannibal. There was no need to say it. “This isn’t going to help you in the eyes of everyone,” you whispered.

“I’m not scared anymore,” he admitted. You mulled that over for a minute.

“I’m glad. I still don’t condone murder on either side.” Will smirked a bit, laughing.

“Actions speak better than words.”

“Jacks gonna come speak to you about this.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Oh I have no doubt. I’m just giving you a girlfriend worthy heads up so you could plan.”

You walked into Hannibal’s house with the spare key he had given you. You put your bag down quietly as you heard the sound of piano through the air. It calmed you immediately. Your emotional turmoil had been something else.

There was much confusion in your brain but really you were mostly worried about both of the men in your life while also being more worried about your dogs. You had to walk them tonight but you decided to stop by Hannibal’s to see how he was doing.

You walked into the main room and Hannibal continued to play. You listened quietly, leaning against the wall. Eventually he stopped to put something else in his composition. You walked up to him and put your hands on his sweater clad shoulders. He smiled, not having to turn around to know it was you.

“That was beautiful,” you whispered. You wrapped your arms around his neck from behind and looked over the composition like you understood it.

“It’s proving to be more difficult than I was hoping,” he said honestly. He grabbed your hand and pulled you down to sit beside him. You did so.

“How are you feeling?” you asked quietly. He shrugged, writing in another note before turning to you.

“I feel as though that noose were still around my neck. It’s strange to have nightmares. Never used to,” he whispered. You nodded solemnly. You understood that better than most.

“You’re always welcome to call the house if you need something,” you said quietly and honestly. Your nightmares hadn’t gotten much better but you were trying to pull through at the house by yourself. Still, knowing Hannibal was there had made you feel better.

“Thank you,” he whispered back to you. You looked at the piano and then back at Hannibal. He stared at you. “I can no longer work with Jack. Or Will.” You were surprised to hear that. Then again, you should have expected it. Almost dying can do that to a person.

“What does that mean?” you whispered.

“I won’t be consulting on any cases with Jack. You’re welcome to continue to work for me and be my…” he paused, “friend but I can no longer assume that I can help Will. I can’t trust him. He’s in a dark place where the shadows move. It’s not safe to stand with him anymore.”

You looked away from Hannibal and at the wall in front of you as you processed what you were being told.

“I hope you understand that I care about you Hannibal,” you whispered, turning to him. “But I will continue to see Will.” He nodded.

“I understand.” You weren’t sure where you stood with him then.

“Play it again,” you told him, voice barely audible.

He put his hands on the keys and you imagined those hands taking a life.

It wasn’t much of a stretch.

Alana walked beside you as you walked the dogs. It was nice to be around them. It was almost like Will was with you at the same time. You were walking through the barren land around the house and she accompanied you upon your request.

“My head is full of conspiracies. There are too many versions of events. He said. She said. He said. He said. She said. It’s maddening,” Alana told you, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets. “The one thing I have clarity on is, Will tried to kill Hannibal.”

You glanced at her.

“He believes that’s the only way to catch the Ripper.”

“And you think the same thing? I notice how you’ve gotten closer with Hannibal.” You shrugged, still sore from the last conversation you had with the man.

“Jealous?” you teased.

“You’re avoiding the question,” she whispered. “And no.”

“I think that Hannibal is more capable of senseless murder than Will. They’re both capable of murder. Will has never lied to me.” You paused. “He only lies to me when he knows I can see through him.” You turned to Alana and stopped walking. She stared back at you. “And you? Where do you stand?”

“I haven’t given up on Will. Just re-evaluating who I think he’s become.” You glanced at her.

“Will has always been this way. He just didn’t like to show it.”

“I feel like I’ve been watching our friendship on a split screen. The friendship I perceived on one side and the truth on the other,” Hannibal said. Will sat in his cage and stared at his former therapist. They stared at each other with a sense of competitiveness and a mix of entertainment.

“It’s a terrible feeling isn’t it?” Will asked, numbly but with a stab at Hannibal.

“You’ve been lying to me, Will.”

“I don’t have a gauge for reality that works well enough to know if I’ve been lying or not,” Will said simply. Hannibal had a sense Will had him right where he wanted him. It was impressive.

“You understand the reality of Beverly Katz’s death. You understand your role in that.”

“What was my role?”

“Beverly died at your behest. You’re as angry with yourself as you are with whoever murdered her.” Will didn’t show much emotion but spite.

“Actually, I’m not. I’m singularly angry at whoever murdered her.”

“You tried to kill me, Will. It’s hard not to take that personally. However, if I were Beverly’s murderer, I’d applaud your effort,” Hannibal said. They shared a look.

“I’m no more guilty of what you’ve accused me of than you are of what I have accused you of,” he stated simply.

“Jack Crawford, Alana Bloom and Y/N Y/L/N believe you are responsible,” Hannibal stated.

“Or Y/N Graham as the people say,” Will said simply. Hannibal fought his amusing anger. “And where does responsibility begin and end, Dr. Lecter? With a final act or the events that led to it?” Will asked.

“I don’t expect you to feel self-loathing or regret or shame. You knew what you were doing and you made your own decisions. Decisions that were under your control.” Will scoffed.

“You think I’m in control?” Will asked. “Where does Y/N stand with you Dr. Lecter?” Will stared hard. “Are you still actively pursuing her? Are you pursuing me? Or perhaps the fact that she’s still dating the man who allegedly tried to have you murdered is putting a dent in your plans.” Hannibal put his hand on his arm, holding it. The two men stared at each other, not as men competing for a woman's love but as men who were toying with the idea that there was a connection they weren’t going to sever. Hannibal hoped to cut that link despite the fact he knew it wouldn’t work.

“We were friends before I met you and I imagine we’ll be friends after we part ways.” Will smiled in arrogance of the knowledge you would likely do anything for him.

“Well I’ll be curious to see how that works out for you. She’ll tell me at her weekly visits.” Hannibal raised his chin and hardened his look.

“Good-bye Will.”

Will was not amused.

As Hannibal walked to his car he opened his phone. He dialed the top number on his phone.

“Hello,” you said, sounding distracted. “Sorry, feeding the dogs.”

“I’m throwing a dinner party tonight. You’re attending I hope.” You hummed a yes.

“Of course.” Hannibal smiled.

“I’m glad.”

Hannibal put his hand on your hair and fixed a piece that was out of place. You both held champagne glasses in your hands and were talking to some of his colleagues. You had been complimented on your look seven times already, twice by Hannibal.

You had yet to touch the food. You believed Will there.

Jack and Chilton spoke, watching the two of you chat.

“Prosciutto roses. Heart tartare. Beed roulade. Needless to say, I won’t be eating the food,” Chilton said.

“Dr. Chilton,” Jack chastised.

“Hannibal the Cannibal That’s what they’ll call him you know. And look at Mrs. Graham. Curiously enough I have no idea what her angle is.” Jack nodded.

“She’s always been a bit confusing.”

You laughed at something a guest was saying as Hannibal laughed about it. You were barely listening.

“I didn’t know you had a lady friend Hannibal. Are you Mrs. Lecter?” one of the ladies said. You paused which made Hannibal laugh. You hadn’t been prepared for that.

“No, I’m...we aren’t together,” you said simply although your voice didn’t sound very convincing. Jack grabbed your arm and you turned to him, surprised. “Please excuse me.”

He pulled you aside.

“Have you eaten something?” he asked. You shook your head.

“Amazing you think I don’t listen to my own boyfriend.” You stared at Chilton and shook your head. “No, I have not.”

“I’m...I can’t believe I’m telling you this... I’m listening to Will,” he said. Your mouth flew open.

“Wait a second, you can listen? You can listen to people?” you asked sarcastically. Jack gave you a look.

“I’m telling you, just in case.” You nodded and Hannibal walked over.

“Jack, I’m happy you’re here. In many ways, you are the guest of honor. You saved my life, after all,” Hannibal said, putting his hand on the small of your back. You didn’t move it. Jack made note.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay. But I’d like to take some food to go.”

You stared at him and he stared back.

Maybe Jack did listen after all.

You sat at the piano by yourself after the dinner party. You put your fingers on the keys and started to play the only thing you knew by heart.

Chopsticks.

Hannibal walked over and sat beside you.

“The ending to my composition has been alluding me. You may have solved my problem with Chopsticks,” he said laughing. He put his fingers on the keys and played a background to the simple tune you carried.

“If only all our problems could be solved with a simple waltz,” you said honestly. Hannibal didn’t look at you.

“I’ve walked away from Will, but I’m still trailing his accusations that you believe,” he told you.

“Alana has also walked away. You’ve both continued to make eventual fools of yourself,” you said simply, pushing a key down loudly before meeting Hannibal’s eyes.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I believe him. You know that.” Hannibal turned to you and you stared at him. Silence ensued the Lecter household. You broke the quiet.

“Would you like to stay the night?” he asked.

“Hannibal Lecter, I’m not that kind of girl,” you said laughing a bit. “But yes. I would.” You turned to him quietly and stood up, holding your hand to him. He took it and the two of you walked to his bedroom where you tossed a shirt from his dresser at him while taking one for yourself. You got dressed facing away from each other and then got into bed.

You stared at each other, hair pressed against the pillows.

“Goodnight Hannibal,” you whispered.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You nuzzled your head into the pillow and he leaned forward. He kissed you and this time you let him. You brought your hand to his cheek and he leaned over you. His hands caressed your hair.

You pulled away after a moment.

“I’m not that kind of girl,” you whispered back at him again. His lips were still practically touching yours as he spoke.

“I know you aren’t.”

He leaned back into his side of the bed.

“If Alana Bloom had stayed behind, this would be a different story.” Your mouth dropped open and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wow, I’m sorry should I call her?” you asked, laughing. He shook his head.

“I prefer you. You help with nightmares.”

“It’s my magic power.”

Both of you thought about Will.

You moved forward and Hannibal wrapped an arm around your shoulder, your head on his chest. You both fell asleep to even breathing and a peaceful room.

You woke up, your head nuzzled into a pillow. You opened your eyes slowly and met the face of Hannibal Lecter. You had expected to see Will. Despite that disappointment you smiled at the fact that for the first time since the murder, you had a dreamless sleep.

“Peaceful sleep?” you asked. Hannibal opened his eyes, stopping from pretending to sleep.

“Yes. You?”

“No nightmares. Not even a dream,” you said dreamily. “Perhaps you have a superpower too.” The bell rang and you both looked up startled.

“The last person who rang my doorbell this early was you,” he admitted. “And it clearly isn’t you.”

He slid out of bed and put on a robe before walking to the front door. You walked to the bathroom, finding one of the old robes in there. You walked down the hallway, the sound of Hannibal's voice echoing.

“Here. All night,” Hannibal said. You rubbed your eyes.

“Anyone beside you can verify that?” You walked in without thinking, not even registering the voice as Jacks until it was too late.

“She can,” Hannibal said simply. His face flashed surprise but he tamped it quickly.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” you said but Jack shook his head.

“All I need to know is if you were here all night.” You glanced between the two and nodded simply.

“He was here all night. We both were.” You glanced at Hannibal. “I’m gonna go,” you said quietly and he nodded solemnly. You turned around but you felt four eyes on you and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

You walked into your home. It still smelled like Will. Maybe Will smelled like the house. You couldn’t quite distinguish it. The dogs pooled around your feet and you pet them, glad you were back early enough to where their food schedule wouldn’t be off at all.

You fed each of them and they walked around the bowls together.

You walked to the made bed and felt guilt rise in your chest. It didn’t feel like you had cheated on Will. He knew Hannibal was pursuing you. You knew Hannibal was almost in a backwards way pursuing Will.

But still as you sat on the bed you grabbed Will’s blanket you got him for Christmas and held it to your chest. He would be back. He would sleep beside you again.

Even if you were mad at him you loved him to pieces.

You imagined you always would.

You wanted to go see him. You got up to do so when the phone rang. You picked it up on the second ring after noticing it was Jack.

“Hello?” You were nervous he was gonna bring up the morning you had had.

“I got the results of a murder that happened a few days ago. And Will didn’t kill any of the people we thought he did.” You wanted to make a sarcastic quip because duh but you just sat back down on the bed. It felt so nice to hear Jack say what you knew in your heart. You grabbed Will’s blanket with your hand without looking at it.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

He was silent as you assumed he prepped to tell you that you were right all along.

“We’ve found four lures that are almost identical to the ones we found at your house, made with materials from the exact human remains. There was no copycat. It was always the Ripper.” He paused again. “Will and you were right.”

You let out a shaky sigh and smiled widely.

“No shit,” you muttered and Jack had the heart to laugh.

“I’ll call you with the details later.” He hung up the phone and you sat on your bed and you let a few laughs of happiness out mixed with some tears of happiness.

The dogs came to you and you pet them each individually. You spoke to them in a happy tone.

“I think dads coming home.”

2x07

#hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

Text

Sieghild’s Prayer, Part 1 (νοσταλγία Alt PoV)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader (kind of)

Summary: Sieghild reminisces about her life as the Priestess’/Reader’s mother, as she prays to the Goddesses she knows will answer.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: I don’t think many of the usual ones apply to this one. Death, mentions of it and death by burning if we are specific; but I don’t think many more. My horrible writing is one too but that’s part of the usual warnings too lol

A/N: The quote on the board/header is by Margaret Atwood on ‘two-headed poems’. As for the writing, there’s also something to credit: the poem/italic thingy is a piece by Edna St. Vincent Millay (Prayer to Persephone), that you can find here.

I don’t recommend reading this before chapter 12, ‘cause spoilers. You’ve been warned :)

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson

“You know me.” The King boasts, and Sieghild purses her lips.

“I would know Aslaug’s eyes anywhere.” Is all she gives as an answer. Kráka, the Danish men knew of her beauty and her magic, the women knew of her loneliness and her loss.

At the mention of his mother, the boy’s stance and expression tighten to a coil. He looks back at the shieldmaiden’s eyes and cocks his head to the side.

“What are you here for, hm?”

She prays she is not failing this quest; she prays the Gods are truly behind this. Let it be Freyja or let it be Persephone, but let her rest assured her daughter is looked over when Sieghild herself cannot do so.

She prays, and without much preamble states, “My daughter, I know you want her.”

“Your daughter?” The King mocks around a dismissive laugh, “And who is this daughter of yours? What’s her name?”

“You don’t know it. She doesn’t give it away easily.” The shieldmaiden is quick to retort, a small twitch in her nose that in her younger years would have been a snarl of anger. But the flare of recognition in Ivar the Boneless’ eyes is enough for her, enough for her to know that the Greek faced one of the most feared men in the known world and still acted as stubbornly and arrogantly as she knows her to act.

And it is enough for the shieldmaiden to know that, to her daughter’s salvation or downfall, it only makes the Viking all the more interested in having her to himself.

The King remains silent, looking coldly at the redhead for a few moments. But Sieghild holds his gaze, she has no qualms about rising to meet the eye of Kings, never has. And neither does her daughter.

“She’s not of our own.”

“She is still mine,” She retorts easily, as certain of this as of the Gods’ might. “I raised her, and I am the one that can offer her hand.”

The shieldmaiden bites back a smile at the way her words make the King falter.

“Her hand?”

“Stithulf cannot offer her marriage to you as an arrangement, for he has no claims on her blood or her family,” She explains, “She is free, and she is mine.”

“And you would be willing to give her up?” The boy inquires, piercing eyes searching hers, in them the very real threat of causing her a world of pain if she is to try and toy with him. When she nods, he pushes, “To me?”

“I do not want to, but…tis Fate that I do so.”

The King leans back on his seat, fingers by his mouth as he breathes deeply. Sieghild keeps her face impassive as she faces him.

“Fate.”

“Son of Aslaug, you more than I know of Freyja’s ways,” She answers without hesitation. “My daughter does not worship our Gods, but she does believe. And…maybe because of our Gods’ will, maybe hers, but her fate lies in Kattegat. I know she is to be left to you,” It hurts to admit this, it hurts like it did when she remembered the Seer’s words in that battlefield, when the foolish boy that once was promised her hand died in her arms and the world shifted one last time. Deciding not to dwell on it, the shieldmaiden pushes through, “And you know this too, don’t you?”

The arrogance, the pride, the satisfaction in the way the man now squares his shoulders, straightens himself in his seat does not surprise her; the spark of hope, of something innocent and fragile as he meets her eyes, that does. It also soothes at a part of her that has always hoped for a good life for her daughter, to see the man underneath the monster.

“Make your promise before the Gods and a witness then, shieldmaiden.”

A young man she assumes to be another son of Ragnar enters when the King calls for him, and after a few exchanged words, she is asked to make her vow.

With a deep breath and hoping this does not become one more of her regrets, the shieldmaiden vows, “May the Gods know Sieghild Vorsdottir, first wife to King Rorik, gives her only daughter to you, Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok.”

Be to her, Persephone.

All the things I might not be;

The child cries at night, she knows. She knows, but she does not know how to comfort her, how to promise her it will all be better when Sieghild herself does not know it yet.

The shieldmaiden struggles with the burden of caring for a girl with such light to her, with such gentleness and warmth. For all the grief and agony, that girl that is a daughter to so many remains enduring, even if with the stumbling optimism of a wide-eyed child.

“Look, Sieghild!” The girl calls in a giggle, appearing from behind a group of merchants with a bat in her small hands. The child looks down at the animal that burrows into her touch, and says, “They are sleeping now, they move at night.”

“I know, child,” The shieldmaiden offers, uncertain, inexperienced. But the girl does not mind, and when her eyes rise to meet Sieghild’s, the warrior finds herself smiling back, even if brokenly and unevenly. It is with careful approach, the gentleness of acting as a mother forced upon a woman used to being callous and harsh, that the shieldmaiden says, “They are messengers of Hödr, son of Odin, did you know?”

The child’s answer is instantaneous, “No, I haven’t met your Gods,” The strange phrasing makes a chuckle leave Sieghild’s lips, but she still brings a hand to rest in the girl’s head as she returns the bat and starts walking once again by the warrior’s side. After a few moments of silence, Sieghild feels big and curious eyes on her, and lowers her gaze to find a child’s hopeful expression. “Tell me about Hödr?”

She nods, and starts relaying the same tales she was once told, when her hair was wild and feet wet from the sea. And the child listens, eyes wide and smile easy past the agony of loss and the heat of repression.

And later that night when they have settled around the dying bonfire, Sieghild tells her about Freya’s magic, and her ways of war and love, the girl rests her head on her hand, looking up into the green eyes of the woman that takes care of her now.

“Do your Gods talk to you, Sieghild?”

“Sometimes, they aid me,” The shieldmaiden answers slowly, “Why?”

“Could you…ask Freyja something for me?” The child’s voice wavers, and she looks unbearably innocent and afraid. A burden no child of less than seven moons should have to carry. The redhead nods quietly, and the girl whispers, “Why did this happen?”

“You want my Gods to answer that?”

The child shrugs, “Mine haven’t.”

It is with a heavy sigh that the shieldmaiden leans forward, putting a hand unused to gentleness as gently as possible on the child’s face, and pressing lips that know only the taste of blood to seal a kiss on the Greek’s head.

“Suffering is just suffering, little one,” Sieghild whispers, her name and her story know this better than anyone, “If it is the Gods’ or the Fates’ will, I cannot know. What isn’t in the Gods’ hands is how you choose to act now.”

“What do you mean?”

The woman puts a finger on the metal amulet depicting the Twelve Olympians alongside the Gods of their Underworld, hanging from the child’s neck as a stubborn promise to keep her home, her legacy, close to her heart.

“You cannot choose what will happen to you, but you can choose how much you will let it change you.”

Like being a mother, Sieghild thinks. She never asked to have the girl with the fiery eyes and relentless spirit under her wing, seeking her guidance; but she has her now, wide eyes and tongue with unending questions.

And she chooses to let it turn her into what this child needs: a mother. Maybe not the gentle, poised, elegant one she once knew, but the one that can teach her the ways of the world, that can teach her to stand tall, to never bite her tongue.

That night, when they settle in the tent, Sieghild catches herself reaching with rough and war-torn fingers to soothe over the unfamiliar tresses of the girl’s hair. The child quietens, and a murmur of thanks in the language the shieldmaiden has been teaching her is the last sound in the tent that night.

Take her head upon your knee.

She that was so proud and wild,

Flippant, arrogant and free,

The Viking eyes the girl with curious eyes, but remains silent as she watches her talk in the language of the Roads, still so foreign to her Greek tongue.

“Touch me again and you will not have hands to touch with.” The Greek girl hisses without hesitation, and even if she cannot look at the men in the eye without tilting back her head, even if it is evident that she does not know how to end a life or how to defend her own; the shieldmaiden notices that everyone pauses for a moment.

The child’s parents would be proud, Sieghild hopes, to see their daughter become a woman in her own right, a leader that has not found her people yet, a ruler that needs only to fool a man into trusting her to gain control over the whole Mediterranean.

“Is that a threat, vixen?” The merchant laughs, the distaste for the people with the Byzantine looks and blood not something Sieghild can blame him for.

“It’s a promise. Now, will you pay me for my work?” The young woman insists, and Sieghild sees every bit of herself in her own youth when the Greek girl straightens her back and looks at the Arabian man in the eye, a challenge and an insult all in one.

The merchant moves for the sword at his waist, but the shieldmaiden is quicker. The edge of her blade finds the man’s neck before he can move to try and attack her child.

“Oh, I should have mentioned I am not alone,” The Greek laughs, a false bravado guiding her steps, “Should I call for the rest of the Varangians, or will my friend here suffice?”

The man eyes her dangerously for a moment, but finally throws the pouch of gold at the girl’s feet, and walks away from her and the shieldmaiden.

“Sieghild, did you see me?” The girl calls forth in an excited whisper, both hands grabbing a hold of the shieldmaiden’s arm. When she turns to look at the Greek girl, she catches the tremble in her frame, the fear still making her mouth tremble.

“I did,” She acquiesces, “Girl, what would you have done if he had chosen to fight? There are no Vikings here to aid me, or you.”

“I know that, but he didn’t,” She answers, delighted in her own madness. “They know better than to pick fights with your people.”

For a moment the shine in her eyes would make Sieghild think her naiveté is born out of her age, but the Greek has the face and body of a woman now, the ambitions of one too.

No, that girl’s light is born out of stubbornness, not innocence.

As they walk out of the house and towards the road once again, horses at their sides and a world ahead of them, Sieghild asks her,

“Where do you want to go now, little one?”

“Where would you take us?” The girl asks instead, a shine in her eye the shieldmaiden hopes she never loses.

After a breath, Sieghild answers, “I would take you back to my home. The Danes would be beautiful by time we arrive.”

“I thought you never wanted to return.” The Greek argues, but in her eyes her mother sees the glint of curiosity, the pull to agree.

“The world has changed, child. We could find a new life in Scandinavia. Ragnar Lothbrok is rumored to conquer Paris soon, a Danish woman rules over his kingdom, Vikings are stronger than ever before.”

“You sound proud.”

“Maybe I am, or maybe I’m just overcome with nostalgia,” Sieghild concedes, wondering not for the first time if she should tell the child what the Seer of Kattegat once told her of her fated return to the coastal city. Instead, she keeps her eyes on the orange skies ahead, and murmurs, “Maybe the Gods are summoning me home.”

She that had no need of me,

Is a little lonely child

Lost in Hell,- Persephone,

She finds her on the same altar she found her the night the Christians burned her mother. The one sheltered by familiar woods, depicting the Goddess that was half monster and half maiden sitting on her throne.

The young girl is furiously cleaning the dust and dirt from the old stone, reclaiming the altar from the vines and weeds that want it for themselves.

Sieghild knows her child is aware of her approach, but the frantic hands still clean at the old stone, the breaths are still labored, the cries are still muffled past gritted teeth.

“Talk to me, child.”

“They want to make me Hiereia,” The girl breathes out, quickly, as if the words were trapped behind her lips waiting for a chance to come out. It always was that way with her, at the end. All barely-contained enthusiasm and prideful honesty in her tongue. “I have no idea how to be what they want me to.”

“Then don’t.”

“It is not that simple!” The Greek bites out, hands clenched into fists, “They needed me here, I was off traveling the world while they needed me!”

“You are not your mother, so they can stick their needs right up th-…”

“Sieghild, please,” The girl breathes out, almost a chuckle leaving her lips, “I carry her legacy, even if I like to pretend I don’t. They make me Hiereia, they look to me for guidance, they…see her in me.”

“And you are happy with that?”

The girl starts shaking her head, but stops herself. Since arriving into this warm and sunny city, Sieghild realizes, her child seems to bite her tongue so much more than even when facing Arab mercenaries, seems to keep her madness under control even if she didn’t when sailing on a downtrodden ship over the Aegean, seems to carry a heavier burden in her shoulders than when she was left in charge of looking over a village that had fallen to a plague.

And Sieghild cannot help but hate this city for it. Hate this city, its people, its Gods; for asking a free woman to be slave to her past, to her legacy.

The girl finally answers, hesitating, “I…don’t know if I want them to see me at all.”

“What do you want, then?” Sieghild asks, maybe callously, maybe brashly, but her child knows better than to think it is not born out of love.

“Freedom?”

“Are you asking me?”

The Greek shakes her head, and the shieldmaiden watches as she straightens her shoulders, steels her very soul for the storm her desires will bring. A part of Sieghild will always want to protect her, keep the child at her side so that she is certain she is safe from men and power and both combined.

But the other part of her, the part of her that taught the Greek girl to wage war and fight -in her own, strange ways- for what she wants, that part of her longs for the day she sees her daughter rise to the height she is owed.

And the Greek woman whispers, “No. I…want freedom, for my people and for me. I want…would it be wrong to want retribution as well?”

“Revenge?”

The answer is a simple phrase in the girl’s lips, “They took my home from me, mother.”

A few moments of silence, and the Viking offers her the truth she knows, “No, it is not wrong, little one.”

“Then that’s what I want,” The Greek sentences, standing up and facing the statue of her Goddess with a new kind of fire in her eyes, “I want to be free, and I want to make them pay for the chains. No matter what it takes.”

Take her head upon your knee;

Say to her, “My dear, my dear,

It is not so dreadful here.”

She watches from the darkness as they take her child away, as the frail girl with a gentle heart is carried off in chains. The shieldmaiden cannot keep the smile from her weary lips as she watches her walk with the stubborn pride of a noblewoman, the relentlessness her mother left her with, the resilience Sieghild likes to believe she taught her.

Her child’s fire is still there, and Sieghild wonders for a moment if the youngest son of Ragnar knows the kind of inferno he got himself into.

And the Saxons retreat with their debts paid, and the shieldmaiden has no place to go for her home was the warm laughter, the stubborn frowns, the gentle heart of the girl she raised as her own.

Still, she shoulders her axe and starts a path to wherever Freyja may take her.

She dreamed many times of bringing her daughter to Scandinavia, have her see how big the world truly is, past the Silk Roads, past the Greeks and the Arabs, past the Byzantines and their laws.

She dreamed of returning home, having left a wanderer and returning a mother. She dreamed many times of growing old looking over that stubborn child and watching her be happy at the side of a lucky man, of being gifted grandchildren to spoil and teach the ways of the Gods like she taught her daughter, of fighting again or being a rallying voice for young shieldmaidens and communicating again with Freyja the way she has always known: war.

She dreamed of many things, and for many years she has carried those dreams, those old hopes and even older pains.

But now there’s no time for dreams. She greets the faces that recognize her when she arrives in King Angantyr’s hall, trying not to react when an old name reaches her ears.

____

So yeah, idk, I hope you liked it.

Thank you for reading, part 2 will be up right after this one, hope you like it. Best wishes! <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #νοσταλγία masterlist

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