#and the fact that all the older folk around her have their worries dismissed by the narrative........... side eye

[chaoxfix]

god i need the algorithm to stop recommending lore olympus to me.

reframing a kidnapping of a woman as romance, and painting her mother as an overbearing shrew rather than rightfully worried and protective, and portraying the kidnapper as sympathetic ... what about my overtly feminist ass makes anyone or any algorithm think i'd enjoy ANY hades/persephone romance retellings.

at this point the only hades and persephone retelling i'm interested in is a retelling that focuses on demeter's love for her daughter. one where persephone's abduction and transition from kore, the maiden, to persephone, goddess of the dead and queen of the underworld, was one where she carries out a revenge fantasy against her abductor... She cannot fully escape the underworld, no; she is death, doomed by the narrative. Underground she will stay for half the year. But she will not subject herself to be trapped with him.

hades dies at dawn; hades dies in the spring light, by persephone's power, and a knife garnished with evergreen thistles. demeter holds him down, and persephone cuts the head. judith slaying holofernes; persephone slaying hades.

[polutrope]

maglor, daeron, and 11! (romantic or platonic)

Hey, I finally managed to write some humour-fluff with one of these prompts!

Post-canon Aman, Daeron/Maglor featuring Fëanor, with a special guest appearance by Nerdanel. 2.7k words (!!). Rated T. On AO3.

For the prompt "because he is the son of his father".

* * *

To Canafinwë Macalaurë (Maglor), esteemed colleague, from Daeron, chief minstrel of the Eldar and loremaster of Alqualondë, greetings. 

Let me begin by expressing my regret that I have not attempted to reach you sooner. My time has been so full since coming to the Blessed Realm, you would not believe! There is simply so much to discover here, so many extraordinary people to meet, so much to learn. But I have been primarily occupied with gathering the lore and wisdom of my people—I still cannot comprehend how the Teleri of Aman kept no written records for five ages. 

I have recently returned from a journey to the Telerin fisher villages along the northern coast where some of the more reclusive of my folk reside, and it brought you to mind. Have you been? I think you would like it. Though perhaps you are quite sick of the sea, I do not know.

In any event, I would say that we two are long overdue for a visit. Do not worry—I will come to you. I have been meaning to make the journey to the country around Formenos and this is an excellent excuse. So, it is likely that I will already be on my way (on foot, as usual) by the time you receive this letter, but I thought it would be rude to show up unannounced. I do not wish to intrude on the privacy of your family, especially at this time.

I will be staying at the inn in the village and will send a messenger when I’ve arrived. I look forward to seeing you there. 

For the third time that afternoon, Maglor flipped the parchment face down and dragged a thumb along his jawline.  

“What is so strange about it?” asked Nerdanel. “You have a great deal in common. Minstrelsy. Arrogance. Legendary self-pity.”

Maglor glared. Without averting her gaze from the vase taking shape on her pottery wheel, Nerdanel smiled smugly. Then, twisting up her features, she asked, “But what did he mean by that bit about ‘especially at this time’?” 

“I assume he means Father’s return.”

It had been over a year since Námo had dismissed Fëanor without the slightest fanfare or warning, not even to his family; but it had been done so quietly that others were only beginning to hear of it. Fëanor, who was greatly enjoying being alive again and did not wish to have any drama spoil it, was keeping his existence as private as possible.

Nerdanel bit her lower lip. “I suppose that’s considerate of him.” She sighed. “I am surprised you have not corresponded at all before this. How long since he sailed to Aman?”

“I have no idea,” said Maglor, throwing up his hands. As a matter of fact, it had been one hundred forty-five years and seven months that Maglor had held off on being the first to reach out, but he did not tell his mother this. 

“You were acquainted in Beleriand, were you not?” 

“Yes,” Maglor hissed impatiently. “We met, once.” 

“Only once? Endor is large but I would think in several millennia of wandering you might have run into each other, no?”

Maglor glared, again. ”No. Only once.” Nerdanel gave him that gentle but withering glance every mother everywhere gives when she knows her child is lying to her. “All right,” he admitted. “Yes, we crossed paths a handful of times.”

“I see,” said Nerdanel. “You slept with him.”

“What!” Maglor slammed the desk and whipped his neck round to face her. 

“Please, Lauro, you may be thousands of years older than you were when I first learned to recognise the meaning of that blush on the tips of your ears, but it is as obvious as ever.” She flicked her eyes at him again. “You really ought to grow out your hair again. You have such nice hair. Well, did you last part with Daeron on good terms?”

Maglor bit down on the flesh of his cheek. Sneaking off before sunrise was impolite, certainly, but it could have been worse. It also could have been better. 

“Neutral terms,” Maglor answered, and sighed. What was the use of discussing it? He could not very well refuse an invitation from the minstrel of the Eldar and loremaster of Alqualondë, and Daeron’s tone made it clear that he knew as much. 

It was Maglor’s suggestion that they meet in the morning. To have it over and done with, but also because he was less likely to make a regrettable decision by the light of day. 

After glancing longingly over the list of the sparkling wines, Maglor settled on black tea. Daeron ordered the same, and a tray of scones. 

“How long until you are allowed back in Eldamar?” asked Daeron, marking the end of meaningless pleasantries and the beginning of awkward unpleasantries.

“What?” said Maglor. Tea sploshed from the spout of the teapot as he set it down. “I am not banned from Eldamar. It is my choice to live here.”

“Oh, my mistake. I suppose I assumed since you made the decision to sail here that you yourself deemed the term of your exile ended.”

Maglor huffed. “I live here because I like living here. Besides, I didn’t—” he started to say. “Never mind.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I chose to sail.”

“So she did find you!” Daeron laughed that bright, musical laugh that had never left Maglor’s memories. It sent a rush of warmth through him, momentarily distracting him from the realisation that—

“Wait. You told her where to find me?”

Daeron winked. “I figured if anyone could force you to board a ship West it was Galadriel. She was right, you know. It’s not really up to us to decide how we ought to atone for our mistakes, is it? Anyway, what was the judgement of the Valar?”

“That my self-imposed exile was more than sufficient punishment and I am forgiven.”

“Hah!” Daeron clapped his hands. “She must have hated that!”

“She did,” Maglor said. “And she hated the subsequent release of the rest of my family even more. She’s convinced that was my doing, and she is not alone.”

“Yes, I’ve heard the rumour. That you sang before Mandos. I never believed it. Not even you could sing a song like that.” At the allusion to Lúthien, Daeron’s eyes clouded like one who is far-off, walking in wistful memories. To Maglor’s surprise and embarrassment, he felt a prickle of jealousy. 

“Yes,” said Maglor, “and that is another reason I don’t visit Tirion—let alone the other cities of Eldamar. People do not like me there.”

“The Valar do seem more willing to forgive than our own kind, don’t they? Your father for example! That was a surprise!”

“Mm, yes.” Maglor brushed a few crumbs of scone from the tabletop. 

“How is he?” asked Daeron.

“What?”

“The great Curufinwë Fëanaro. How is he since his re-embodiment?” 

Exuberant, thought Maglor. Delighting in life, more brilliant than he ever was, inspired, and positively overflowing with the most eloquent and heartfelt apologies. 

“He is well.”

“Really? Wonderful news. Will he return to Tirion, do you think?”

“I do not think so, no.” (What Fëanor actually said was, “Oh no! Not this time. This time I am staying well away from it all! With all due respect to our noble kindred, I have no interest in getting myself entangled in that marble-domed, gem-encrusted pit of vipers.”)

“A shame,” said Daeron. “Though I can understand the impulse. It must all be a bit tedious for a brilliant mind like his. I find it a bit tedious myself, but well. My talents were needed in Alqualondë. And then the High Kings approached me about my newest position, and I am sure you of all people understand that one does not simply refuse an invitation to become the official minstrel of the Eldar.”

“No,” said Maglor, swirling his tepid cup of tea. “No, that is not a title someone simply refuses.”

“In any case, I was wondering— Well, I’ve become familiar with his works since coming here— It is difficult not to when half the library of Tirion consists of his works and those building upon them— What a relief none of it was destroyed! It is fortunate that the Noldor value lore and wisdom as highly as they do— I think I would have made a good Noldo, you know— Funny, you would have made a good Teler—”

“Daeron,” Maglor interrupted. “What are you getting at?”

“Sorry.” Daeron knit his excitedly fluttering hands on the table in front of him, then looked into Maglor’s eyes. “I’d like to meet him. Your father.”

The first elf Maglor had courted had been a gorgeous, silver-haired Teler. In addition to being one of the most talented flautists in Alqualondë, Halorniel was charismatic, clever, and had an excellent sense of humour. It was with great pride that he had brought her to dinner with his family for the first time. 

It was with burning envy that he had watched her held thrall by his perfect, brilliant, and captivating father through the entire evening. Halorniel was the first, but not the last; just as Maglor was the first, but not the only of his brothers to suffer this indignity. 

Maglor had all but forgotten about this consequence of being a son of Fëanor when Fëanor himself was alive and available for comparison. Until Daeron had expressed his enthusiasm to meet Fëanor. 

Maglor also realised that, despite setting the early morning date, he had held out hope of reigniting something with Daeron. How foolish, to imagine the loremaster of Alqualondë and chief minstrel of the Eldar had had any interest in him, the Noldor's notorious hermit-bard. 

Not even an intellectual or artistic interest, it seemed. Maglor was not sure that Daeron or Fëanor had noticed when he rose and left them together in the sitting room several hours ago, having been left out of the conversation for at least a half-hour before that. 

He had spent some time walking in the gardens, and accepted Maedhros’ invitation to help with pruning the grape vines to distract himself. But, incapable of focusing of the task, he kept cutting back too far, and had been somewhat brusquely dismissed. So he found himself back at the house and listening outside the window to the excited exchange of ideas between his father and Daeron. 

“It is extraordinary,” said Daeron, “I could find no commonalities, no relation to any other linguistic grouping in Arda. It is almost as though the whole people came from outside.” Daeron laughed. “Which is of course impossible.”

“You think so?” said Fëanor. “I am not so convinced that Arda is the only place in Eä with speaking peoples.”

“What do you mean?” said Daeron, a charming tone of wonder in his voice.

Maglor could practically hear his father’s self-satisfied smile. “I have created an instrument that can allow one to see across great distances in the heavens—well, my grandson invented it, but I have improved upon it—and I have discovered that there are other bodies like to Arda throughout Eä.” He lowered his tone conspiratorially. “I have not told anyone besides Telperinquar, lest the rest of the family think I have gone mad, but I do not believe the Quendi and Atani are the only Children of Ilúvatar. I believe there are many—dozens! hundreds!—of other peoples, with their own cultures and traditions and languages.”

Daeron gasped. “Do you think they know of us?”

“Perhaps,” said Fëanor. “Perhaps. I intend to find out. I am devising a language based on the principles of music, since music is after all the language of Creation and underlies all things, that could be reduced to simple waves of sound capable of travelling across the vast distances required to— Say! You might be just the person to help me!”

Maglor punched the side of the house. They both fell silent.

“Did you hear that?” asked Daeron.

“Yes.” Fëanor paused a moment. “Probably nothing. But what do you think? I know you must be terribly occupied with your various roles, but your expertise would be invaluable.”

Maglor did not hear Daeron’s answer, for he was trudging through the garden, away from the house, with his fists clenched at his sides. When he reached the river, he kicked the bank and let out a petulant cry of frustration. 

“So I am going to stay in Formenos!” said Daeron, beaming. “To help your father with a project.”

Maglor grunted and did not look up from his book. “That’s nice.”

“You are not pleased.”

“Very clever observation,” said Maglor, and flipped a page.

Daeron sat down on the bench beside him, his hands folded over his knees. “Hm. Have I offended you?”

This got Maglor to look up. He shut the book. “Yes, actually. You have.”

“How?” Daeron’s thick silver-grey brows beetled over his deep-set black eyes and sharp nose. His pink lips gathered in a little pout. 

“You are arrogant, presumptuous, and a shameless abuser of friendship.”

“Abuser of friendship?” asked Daeron. His laughter was disarmingly nervous. “I admit I can be the first two, but what friendship have I abused?”

“Ours!” Maglor cried, and came close to hitting him on the head with his book. “You used me to befriend my father, and now you are—” Maglor gestured helplessly. What? Claiming his father’s attention? Taking Maglor’s place? That sounded absurd, when he actually considered it. “I know what your project is. I heard you. You are going to help him devise a language. A language of music. Hah! It is as if he has forgotten—” Maglor broke off, suddenly aware of the tremor in his voice.

“What!” Daeron seemed genuinely taken aback. “You clearly did not hear all. I told your father you would be better for the task. He’s afraid to ask for your help. He does not think you have forgiven him.”

Maglor felt as if he’d been struck in the chest with a hammer. “Oh.”

“Have you?” asked Daeron.

“What?”

“Forgiven him?"

There was a long pause. Maglor rested his chin in his palm and considered. He had. Or he had thought he had, a long time ago, when it was just him and his musings and the sea, and forgiveness seemed easy. But he’d never expected Fëanor to live again. He’d never expected to see him again, thriving and well. He resented him for it. He resented all of his family, he realised, for the healing he’d never received. The healing of which he’d deprived himself. 

“No,” he said at last. “I haven’t.”

“There, you see,” said Daeron, and he took Maglor’s hand. Maglor’s fingers naturally fell into place between his. “I see how it looks that way. That I abused our friendship, as you say. I think I actually used your father’s re-embodiment as an excuse to finally write to you, and to pretend it wasn’t because of you. For that I have deserved your accusation of arrogance—or pride, at least. I did want to meet him, and I am glad I have, but…” Daeron sighed. “I know how it is. To have had no rest. Our situations are obviously different, so I won’t presume,” he looked at Maglor and a smile played at the corners of his lips, “I won’t presume to know what it is like for you, but I think it is much harder to start over when you’ve just kept on living and living without pause. I hoped that coming here would help you. That’s why I told Galadriel where to find you. But I suppose—well, I know now—that it’s not simply a matter of being whisked away on the Straight Road and having all your pain trail behind—mmph!”

The end of Daeron’s sentence was trapped in his throat, for Maglor had grabbed his face in both hands and planted a kiss firmly over his mouth. The utterance of surprise turned to a honeyed whimper of delight as Daeron graciously received the kiss.

Maglor pulled back, smiling. “I’m glad you’re staying." He patted Daeron's pinkened cheek. "Though you may find my father no longer requires your assistance.”

Daeron shrugged. “I think I’ll stay awhile anyway, if that’s all right with you.” 

“I’ll allow it,” said Maglor, and kissed him again. 

On AO3

I should mention the idea of the 'Telerin fisher villages' comes from this beloved Fingon/Maglor fic by mangacrack.

[lexieqq2]

I'm trying to convince myself I should start writing the HP au fic I have been planning for a long time. It's a slow burn Snape x OC, inspired by an older fanfic, The Knight Errant Chronicles by Guernica. It involves Fae folk, soul magic, prophecy and destiny. I'm still figuring out where chapter one should pick up and this is just a random exchange between Sirius and Lexiwyn, (my OC) from later in the story. Just needed to write it while I felt inspired!

Sticks and Stones

Her breathe stilled in her chest, her eyes fixed on his. All she could hear was her heart's steady beat as his muttered words sank in. It wasn't as if it was something she hadn't called herself before, though only half seriously and never out loud, but to hear it hurled at her hurt more than she could have anticipated.The Order's Whore. Another beat and she rememberd where she was and her eyes flicked to the other order members around the table. Remus placing a hand to Sirius' arm, quietly hushing him as if the damage wasn't already done. Tonks and Charlie both on their feet now, glaring at Black, Tonks fuming with fists clenched while Charlie braced himself on the table leaning towards Sirius, "Watch your mouth", he growled protectively. Dumbledore merely gave Sirius a reproachful look and McGonagall a disgusted gasp of "Sirius!".

She could see Helm was on high alert, eyes watching everyone as his wand hand twitched, ready to have her back should things escalate. Snape was the only one not looking at Sirius. His piercing black eyes never left hers. His only movement the rise and fall of his chest. She remembered to breath again. A slow steady breathe. 

"Thank you for that wonderful insight, Black." She kept her voice steady and low, and hopefully cutting. "It's good that you have finally found something to contribute at the meetings. I'm not sure how useful it is but plus one for effort."

Her words found their mark and Sirius nearly knocked his chair back as he jumped to his feet, his arm coming up to point a finger at but clearly he was unable to find a sharp enough comeback. He shrugged off Remus's hand from his shoulder and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Well maybe now we can focus on the agenda with out worry of further petulant outbursts" Snape barely suppressing a smirk as he spoke.

The meeting continued around her, accounts of guard duty and surveillance swirling on the edges of her attention, not really sinking in. Do they all think it of me? she thought, Is there any point in trying to put the record straight? She imagined herself speaking up, maybe when Albus closes with his usual "Any other business?" Clarifying that she had not in fact slept with Lucius and had no intention of doing so, reminding them they were the ones who wanted a second double agent and the Lucius was her only way in. An old memory of a movie line muggles often quoted surfaced "The lady doth protest too much." and she instantly dismissed the idea. She sat mutely through the meeting, nodding when appropriate and trying to keep her expression interested, and joined the others in a slight shake of her head when "any other business?" was asked.

Did she imagine it or did the others avoid meeting her eye as they all gathered their things and filed out of the room. She hung back as the room cleared, busying herself with straightening out the chairs until she heard the click of the door close behind her.

"Fuck" she sighed as her composure cracked and her breathe became more ragged as she fought the pricks of tears she could feel in the corner of her eyes. She needed to find something substantial to bring to the table and soon. She had little concern regarding Black's personal opinion of her, but she held most of the order members in high regard and some of their opinions mattered to her more than she would like to admit. There was plenty enough prejudice towards Fae and their perceived promiscuity going around with out it being added to by the likes of Sirius Fucking Black. No, she had to prove him wrong. Prove that her mission was worth more to the Order than Black's meagre offerings (she often wondered whether Albus only designated Grimmauld Place as headquarters to ease Black's fragile ego as he had nothing else to give, there were plenty of other safe houses at the Orders disposal and none of them had long dead, bigoted lunatics screaming at them from their portraits.) Black could call her what he liked but she knew her actions had real value for their cause, a sullied reputation was a fair trade for more information.

[beclynn-herondale]

Little Clace thing I wrote

He opened their bedroom door and walked into it, behind him Clary was sending a message to Alec about plans tomorrow.

Jace was ready for work to he over, they'd been strategizing all day and his brain was exhausted. they were all stressed about what will happen with the New Clave. Not to mention, when and if the Cohort makes a move.

But he tried to clear his mind of that, trying to think of other things, otherwise he won't be able to sleep. He sat on his side of the bed to unlace his boots and pull them off. Then shrugged his jacket off and fell against the bed for a moment.

"You seem exhausted," Clary said, her voice half worry and half amusement." "I didn't sleep well last night. so my brain is done from all the strategizing." "Or the thinking." she said playfully. "You're so mean," he teased.

He heard her throw her boots off onto the floor. "And disorganized," he said. "Organization ain't my thing. You knew what you getting into, Herondale," she said. "True. But, I suppose that's why we balance each other," he said, suddenly serious. Thinking about how if not for Clary being his partner, he wouldn't be able to do all this.

She climbed onto the bed and then was on top of him. "We do more than just balance each other out," she said. "We're a team and more." He ran a hand through her hair. "I love you," he said, "so much." "I love you, too," she said, "so much. She bent down to kiss him, he kissed her back.

She pulled away, and said, "What do we have tomorrow?" "More strategizing and planning," he said. "Alec is still trying to calm things down with the Fair Folk. Not all of them are exactly over the Cold Peace." Clary sighed. "Can you blame them?" "No. If it were me, I wouldn't be so forgiving either, but we're in a difficult time right now." "That's true," Clary said. "Do you think the Cohort is planning as well?"

"Probably." "What are we going to do?" "Don't worry. we have Magnus Lightwood-Bane on our side, remember?" "One day I'll tell him that you secretly admire him." "Magnus Bane's secret admirer. But seriously, it's not necessary admiration," he said. "it's me stating facts. Magnus is a powerful warlock, maybe even one of the most powerful. He's be the High Warlock of Brooklyn this long for a reason."

"Magnus is God," said Clary, looking proud of herself. If anyone ever knew Clary and him joked about Magnus being got, he'd never live it, Jace thought to himself. "Perhaps." Jace had to admit if he were to choose a god, it'd be Magnus. At least Magnus seems cool. And he did love Alec more than anything, so that made Jace feel a kinship with him. He saw that Magnus could see in Alec what Jace did as well, it made Jace trust that Magnus would always take care of Alec. And he saw that Magnus loved Alec with everything he had as well.

"Why am I so exhausted every day?" Clary groaned. "We aren't even that old." "Physically we are young," said Jace. "But mentally we are much older." "Mentally I want to sleep for a while." "I'm sure you can sleep in a little later tomorrow morning," he said. "But there's so much paper work to he done," she said. "I hate paperwork." Clary was tired of paperwork, so was Jace. but rebuilding things meant there was a lot of it.

"I can do the paperwork," he said. "I can't let you do it on your own." "Yes you can," he said. "Besides, even the sumptuous brain muscle needs rest." He grinned. She laughed. "I remember I said 'Your most sumptuous muscle is your brain.' back when we were in Shanghai."

"I never forgot that," he said, more serious now. "Listen, love, your brilliant brain needs rest." "Why did you remember that?" she asked curiously, but he could tell she remembered too. "Well, for one, you said it to me. Everything you say has meaning to me," he replied. "And for two, you reminded me I was more than just a fighter."

They shared a moment of silence, not uncomfortable at all. It was a silence if knowing what the other already felt and knew. The silence of being around someone you trusted and loved, someone who knew you just as well as you knew yourself.

"Does Alec look exhausted to you?" asked Clary, breaking the silence. Alec does look exhausted, he's been given everything his all, and Jace was a little worried. "Yeah," he said. "But I've tried to get him to rest. He just thinks he has to do everything." Jace heard the anxiety and worry in his own voice.

"He never knows when to take a break. I admire him for it but we all need a break," Clary said. "Maybe you could find a way to trick him into a break."

Jace thought hard about this. He could convince Alec to go out for a drink or a walk, or even convince him into sleeping and tackling him into a cuddle session. But it would not be easy. And everyone needed something from Alec these days, but even Alec has his limits. No matter how much hope and goodness he had to give. Alec always had so much faith and hope, it radiated off him when he talked about the plans for the new Clave or when he advised people on how they could do better and the positive changes they could make—

"Jace," said Clary. He realized he got lost in thought. "Yeah. Sorry, I zoned out." "That's fine," she said. "I was just saying we should probably get ready for bed and try to get some sleep." She was still on top of him. "Well, you'll have to get off me so I can put on pajamas." "To bad," she said. "I'm comfortable." "I thought you said we should get ready for bed? This," he indicated, "is not getting ready for bed." "This could be what I mean," she smirked. "To think everyone believes I'm the naughty one," he said playfully. Then brushed his hand along her cheek.

Her expression turned serious and she stared down at him. "Are you okay?" "What do you mean?" "You've gotten up early, even for you, these last couple of mornings. And you've been tossing and turning more lately."

Should he tell her that he's been having nightmares of some evil version of himself? And that he was still worried about that night she said she thought she saw him; and that he was acting weird. But Jace hadn't gone after Clary that night, he'd stayed back at Magnus and Alec's place to play with Max and Rafe.

When Clary returned and asked him why he'd been so weird, he felt his heart skip a beat. It hadn't been him. They decided to dismiss it as being exhausted from working so hard. But Jace had his doubts. After the Thule story.

"I've just been having trouble sleeping again," he admitted. "I don't know. It just happens every now and then." "Do you have something on your mind?" she asked. "Just the usual; New Clave stuff, running the Institute, patrolling. Nothing new." "You're worried about Alec?" "Yes. But I don't think it's that," he said. "Alec is a great leader and knows what he's doing. and I know when to step in if I need to, but he is also happy to be doing it. And as his parabatai I have faith in him, I trust him. The thing is, I have had a strange feeling that something is coming but I don't know what."

"We do have to start wedding planning," said Clary, shuddering. Clary was good at planning this stuff but did not like planning this stuff, she also disliked dressing up too fancy. But she also insisted they plan the wedding, mostly cause it was an excuse to spend time together. She'd asked him about dress styles and he thought it odd but told her 'Whatever you want. You'll look beautiful no matter what.'

He reached over to her and twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. "The wedding planning won't he so bad." "Magnus suggested glitter bombs." "Well, that won't be happening," he said. She nodded. "I can't have glitter stuck in my ears for months again."

He laughed softly. "What do you want?" he asked. "That's just it," she said, rolling off him. "I have no idea. But I feel like everyone expects you to know what you want. I'm sure you know what you want." "You'd be surprised," he said. "But, Clar-bear, we don't need to know. We've always gone slow and steady in our relationship, our wedding planning doesn't need to be fast. We don't need to have everything ready right away, we don't have to plan it all right away. it's our wedding." "You're right," she said "of course you are." "I usually am," he winked.

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously though," she said, "thank you." He leaned to the side and kissed her cheek. "Kiss me," she said. He'd heard her say that maybe a million times, but it never got old.

He pulled her back on top of him and kissed her hard; she smelled of jasmine. She was grinning against his mouth a little, which made him smile. They rolled around like this for a bit; kissing and comforting.

Eventually they got ready for bed, both of them changed into their pajamas and snuggled into bed together. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, placing a few light kisses there. As she told him about how Max turned into a bat early and caused chaos. He smiled fondly at that, his nephew be chaotic was always adorable. Rafe apparently said something in spanish that may or may not have been inappropriate; his other nephew was adorable and on his way to being a badass.

They both dosed off after she finished the story, they had to accept they were tired adults now, even if Jace didn't want to.

Tag list: @khaleesiofalicante @chibi-tsukiko @spotsandclawsthings @megs-readstoomuch @magnus-the-maqnificent @replayfootsteps @my-archerboy @jazzkaurtheglorious @simply-ellas-stuff @bookfast-at-tiffanys

[queenofanime]

What if?

Okay, so I have decided to make a series of one-shots with different animes but as Telenovelas. I think it is pretty clear where I got the idea from, but oh well. Haikyuu! …But as a Telenovela!

Warning: unplanned pregnancy, teen pregnancy. A lot of DRAMA and (a failed attempt) of HUMOR 

-

Our story begins seven years ago, when (Y/n) Gloriana González Pérez was ten years old. (It should be noted that at that age, (Y/n)'s passions included: Family, Telenovelas, God, and grilled cheese sandwich. The order is not important)

And on that day, she was taught to protect her flower. 

"Look at the white flower in your hand, (Y/n)" said María Elena, who was (Y/n)'s grandmother. (Maria Elena's passions consist of God and (Y/n). In that particular order) "Now crumble it" 

And (Y/n) did as told. The once white flower turned brown and decay. 

"Now, try fixing it" grandma continued. The young girl tried, but the flower was clearly ruined. "I-I can't" "Exactly" repeated the older woman. "That's what happens to your virginity once you lose it. It can never turn back. Don't forget it, ever."

And forget, (Y/n) never did. Because like the good responsible catholic Latina she was, (Y/n) promised herself she would save it for marriage. 

"Are we there yet!? Are we, are we!?" Hinata asked for the 37th time, and as the past 36 questions, the answer was no. However, everyone was getting a little annoyed and impatient. Right now the team was heading to a training camp, along with Nekoma's and Fukurodani's respective teams. And as always, Hinata couldn't hold his excitement. (Y/n), on the other hand, was a different story.

A few months ago, she had transferred from Miami to Japan. As expected, the adaptation was challenging, but thankfully her new friends (the team) were there for her. In no time, (Y/n) found a waitressing job in a hotel in Tokyo and settled down in school. When everyone asked her if she could accompany them to training as an unofficial manager, she really couldn't object.  

"Hey (Y/n) are you feeling okay?" Asked Suga, who had been sitting beside her the whole bus ride. "That's your third water bottle. Do you feel nauseous?" He asked again. "Nah, don't worry about it. I'm fine" She claimed with a smile, even though she was lying through her teeth. Suga noticed too but decided not to ask further. Truth be told, (Y/n) was feeling quite sick. At first, she thought it was the feeling of being homesick and nervous; She quickly dismissed the idea when her head started killing her.

"Now we are here," called Coach Ukai from the front of the bus. If (Y/n)'s being honest, she really likes the coach. He's a good guy, (even with all the smoking he does). He even let her work as a cashier in his family store. 

At his words, Hinata jumped. His praying had actually worked. He couldn't wait to get into a volleyball court and spike the ball as hard as he could. (Y/n) was secretly relieved as well. Her body was heavy and she needed to get off. 

From the window, she could already see Kuroo and Akashi waving, while Bokuto jumped with excitement. (Y/n) also noticed Kenma was standing shyly behind his captain, but he was there, nonetheless. 

When the bus came to a stop, the teenage girl calmly got up. A wave of nausea and light-headiness came over her, but she manages to control it. Once she was out of the bus and tasted fresh air, she would be back to her old self. Giving a hand with the luggage, (Y/n) finally gets out and before she understands what's going on, two strong arms are sneaking their way into her hips. Bokuto lifted her body and started to twirl her around. Unbeknown to Bokuto, this small action was the final blow for (Y/n)'s sickness. As soon as her feet touch the ground again, her vision turns black.

-

(Y/n)'s orbs roam lightly. She is unable to recognize the unfamiliar room. Voices are heard from a distance... or maybe closer. It almost sounds as... as coach? and Suga? 

Opening her eyes a little more, she manages to make out shapes. 'What the hell happened?' (Y/n) can't remember. Her head still feels fuzzy but she manages to sit up. Her eyes adapting to the light of the room. "He-hey..." the girls say. Her voice was still raspy and dried. This caught the attention of those in the room. 

Karasuno's mother setter is the first to approach her. "Hey, are you okay!? OMG, I knew something was off!"  

(Y/n) could only let out a small chuckle. Sugawara really did know her. "I'm fine now. Don't' sweat it!" 

The second person who came closer was Coach Ukai. "Hey kiddo, how are you feeling?" 

(Y/n) just smiled, "Better. I'm sorry I crashed the camp." 

"Oh don't worry about it! Everyone started practicing." Ukai's hand ran through his dyed hair and into the back of his neck. "Although Bokuto is in emo mode." (Y/n)'s face changed into one of guilt. She had completely forgotten the fact that she had passed out in his arms. She couldn't help feeling flustered at how cheesy the situation had been. 

(Y/n)'s train of thought is suddenly interrupted by the medic entering the room. "Well," He clears his throat. "We ran some test. Nausea and fainting spell solved... You're pregnant." 

Now, the news might have shocked both Ukai and Suga, but (Y/n) couldn't help but snort at his words. 

The three men are now looking at the girl who is frantically laughing. Finally catching her breath, (Y/n)'s eyes look up to the doctor. "Sorry, is just that, I'm not pregnant." 

The doctor was taken aback by her confidence and security but recovered. "We tested your urine."

"Trust me. The test is wrong." 

"False negatives are frequent, false positives are rare..." The doctor tried to reason. 

Suga looked concerned. "H-hey (Y/n), don't you think you might just be in denial... This is a pretty b-big deal."

(Y/n) could only let out small chuckles. "No, I'm not in denial. And it might be rare but it happened. Because I'm a virgin."

Ukai choked on his own saliva while the other two males looked at (Y/n) dumbfounded and in shock. 

"Y-you're a-a vir-a virgin? You are a virgin. A VIRGIN." The doctor kept murmuring, clearly confused. 

There was no trace of lying or deceiving in (Y/n)'s face. Just pure innocence and truthfulness. 

Confused, the doctor went to grab another test and the fluid. He tried once again. "Pink means pregnant." And folks, let me tell you the sample was pink, very very pink. 

"But I've never had sex." repeated (Y/n). Worry and disbelief lingering in her voice. 

"The results say otherwise. Clearly you are not a virgin."   

His comment sparked a flame of anger in the girl, but she decided to keep herself in check. 

"This is clearly a mistake. A hormonal thing or something."

"Yes, hormonal pregnancy." 

"No," She said as if venom was dripping through her mouth. "I'm not pregnant."

"I understand this is unplanned..." kept saying the doctor. While Coach kept mumbling something between the lines of miracle, and Suga just stayed there unable to process the information. Over the chaos, (Y/n) grabs the phone and dials. 

"Hello this is (Y/n) Gonzalez. I need to talk to Dr. Jabami, some crazy doctor is saying I'm pregnant!?"

-

One hour and a half has passed since (Y/n) called her doctor. By now, some of the other players have become interested in the situation. Not that anyone knew what was happening except Ukai, the doctor, Dr. Jabami (who was on her way), (Y/n), Sugawara, and Takeda sensei.  

After waiting a couple of minutes, the woman is known as Hanna Jabami finally entered the room. 

(Y/n) quickly jumped out of bed. "Oh my God! Dr. Jabami there has been a terrible mistake. I don't know why the tests keep coming positive, but there must be an explanation!" Panic and anxiety were clear in the girl's voice. Ukai couldn't help but noticed the unknown female doctor was looking guilty and with a sense of pity in her eyes. 

"The reason those tests came back positive... is because..." Hanna Jabami was having difficulty explaining the situation. "The reason is that... I accidentally inseminated you two weeks ago." 

"What?" "You what?" Said in unison (Y/n) and Takeda

The doctor put her hands up defensively. "It was a mistake. I made a mistake. And there was only a 20 percent chance it would take, so I thought... I thought you might never know. Except that -- things turned out differently."   

It should be noted that at this moment, (Y/n) is panicking. Time seems slow. The only thing she can do is breathe in and breath out. She felt her heart in her throat. 

"I'm so sorry (Y/n)" interrupted the voice of Hanna. "There are options of course. You can have the baby or -- this is a prescription for -- a pill -- you can take. You are under no obligation to consult with the father. Though he knows and he would like to speak-- "The father" says (Y/n), having trouble breathing. She hadn't even been thinking about the father. (Y/n) is in shock. Numb almost. Abruptly, she stands up. "I got to go. I gotta leave." 

"Where are you going?" exclaims Suga but (Y/n) doesn't respond. She just leaves. 

[reddeadredeputy]

Runaway: Chapter 1 (Javier Escuella x Fem!Reader)

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: While out stealing food, Dutch finds a young man-- Javier Escuella, on the verge of starvation and brings him back to his camp as the newest member of the Van der Linde gang. He enlists the help of a trusted gang member (the reader) to take care of Javier and make sure he finds his way in the gang

“Miss (L/N), if you would be so kind as to take care of our new guest.”

You watched as Dutch handed him off. He was scrawny, standing a little hunched over. He looked small next to Dutch, almost skeletal. His clothes were ill-fitted and frayed from use. He looked-- and smelled-- as if he’d taken them off a corpse… Well, he wasn’t much more fit than a corpse, himself.  He looked at you, shuffling his feet as he walked hesitantly towards you. You nodded.

“Alright, mister. Follow me.” You turned on your heel as the man sped up to match your pace, following you as you peered at each tent in the camp, trying to figure out where there might be room for the new straggler.

“Oh, and (Y/N)!” Dutch called after you. “Get him some new clothes! I’m sure John’s got some that would fit.”

“Like hell I do!” Marston shot back indignantly, though Dutch was quick to dismiss him.

“It’s for a good cause, boy.” He murmured, clasping his hand over the man’s shoulder and guiding him away. With a wave of his hand, the rest of the gang dispersed, slowly busying themselves once more.

The feeble-looking stranger stood silently behind you.

“So,” You glanced over your shoulder, beckoning towards John’s tent. “Where’d Dutch find you, boy?” He didn’t say a word, and it occurred to you that he hadn’t even made a sound since Dutch rode up with him on the back of his horse. “What’s the matter with you? You get your tongue cut out or something?” You turned fully towards him, almost facing off with the man. “Can’t you speak?” His eyes widened with something like alarm, and he raised a hand to point to his face.

“No English.” He said quickly, shaking his head.

“Oh.” You backed off, feeling a little bad for getting impatient with him. You ducked into John’s tent, opening the small chest on the ground containing his unused clothing. They were dirty-- not as dirty as the clothes already on the man’s person, but still with a thin layer of filth over them. Of course Marston would forget to bring his clothes to the wash bucket. It didn’t matter.

An old grey cotton shirt and a pair of worn down old jeans. You gathered them up in your arms.

“Javier.” He announced suddenly.

“What?”

The man was gesturing towards himself, resting his hands over his heart. “Javier Escuella.”

With the clothes in hand, you looked him up and down.

“(Y/N).” You said with a hint of a smile, nodding towards his worn-down shoes. “Let me go see if Arthur has any extra pairs of boots for you.” You handed off John’s old clothes, which Javier took gratefully.

“Gracias. Muchas gracias.”

The two of you traded places, you exiting the tent while he entered, closing the tent flap behind him. You could hear the rustling of him removing the clothes as you made your way towards Arthur’s tent.

He was out for the day. “Hunting”, he’d said, but you were sure he was just enjoying his time away from camp, hunting and selling pelts for cash.

There were several pairs of boots in a chest at the end of his cot. One pair in particular caught your eye. They were an old pair of boots, just about as worn down as John’s clothes. Dark leather with a sort of vine-like design carved up the side of them. Sure, they were old, but they were intact, which was more than you could say for Javier’s shoes. As you looked more closely, they seemed a tad smaller than the other pair. You were almost certain Arthur wouldn’t miss these. Not for the short while that your new guest would be borrowing them, at least. You took them, careful to shut the chest behind you as you made your way back to John’s tent, where Javier was stood outside fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt.

He seemed to be avoiding the gazes of everyone in the camp, bowing his head down to stare at the dirt as Pearson lumbered by with a skinned rabbit over his shoulder.

“Javier.” You called, holding the pair of boots up for him to see. “I got these for you. Should fare better than the ones you’ve got on now.” Of course you were aware of the fact that he couldn’t understand a word of what you were saying, but he still seemed to understand you well enough, as he sat down on a log outside the tent and began removing the shoes. As he tossed them aside, you got a better look at the damage on them. There were large holes worn straight through the soles, stained a slight red. As Javier took the pair of boots from you and began to put them on, he winced. It struck you just how lucky he was that Dutch had been the one to find him. A young man in his state-- he looked as though he hadn’t eaten in days before he’d been found. He was covered in scrapes and bruises, his cheeks were hollow, his eyes were red and tired. Not all folks were as tolerant nor kind to foreigners, especially those who didn’t speak a work of English like poor Javier.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder and jumped back to see Dutch behind you with a bowl of stew in his hands.

“I’m sure you’re still hungry, Mr. Escuella.” He said, moving you aside gently. Javier practically jumped to his feet as Dutch handed him the food, though he showed restraint and began to eat slowly, politely. Dutch turned to you with a fond smile. “So, what do you think of him?”

“I don’t know a thing about him, Dutch.” You bent down to pick up the old pair of shoes that Javier had discarded on the ground, moving to take them across camp. Dutch followed you closely. “Except that he’s half dead and can’t speak any English.”

“Half dead?” Dutch chuckled. “All he needs is food and shelter and he’ll be alright. We’ve got more than enough room for him here.”

“We’ll have to take him into town, get him some clothes of his own. Not sure how long John’s willing to part with his.” You commented, nodding.

Dutch looked around camp thoughtfully. “I’ll send Hosea with him first thing tomorrow.”

Your gaze turned to Javier, lingering on him for a moment as he set down the now-empty bowl. He was sitting on the ground now, his back up against the log, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his other arm shakily. He shot you a tired glance before standing up, wavering a little on his feet, and retreating slowly just beyond the rest of the tents.

“You could wait a day or two. Looks like he hasn’t slept anywhere but the ground in ages.” You said as Javier moved out of sight.

“Probably hasn’t, poor boy.” Dutch shook his head with a sigh. “(Y/N), I need to ask a favor.”

“What’s that, Dutch?” You looked back up at Dutch with a slightly suspicious look on your face.

“I got news of a job a little ways out of our way. I’m going out of town for a while to scope things out with Arthur when he comes back.”

“Alright. And?” You pushed, frowning.

“I’d like you to look after Mr. Escuella. Now, I’m not asking much. Just keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t run off. Maybe try to teach him a little English while you’re at it. Just make sure he’s welcome.”

“What? Me specifically?” There was a hint of disgust in your voice, though you didn’t mean for there to be. Luckily for you, Dutch either didn’t notice, or he didn’t care.

“Well, you see (Y/N), Miss Grimshaw can be a little harsh, we don’t want him scared off. And Abigail… well, she’s got enough to worry about with a baby on the way, John, too.” He said, lowering his voice. “All I’m asking is for you to be kind to him while I’m gone.” You were about to speak when he cut you off. “And it wouldn’t hurt to learn a little Spanish either, just to make things easier for him.”

“Dutch-”

“It’ll only be for a week or more.” He insisted, waving you off.

“But I-”

“Everybody!” He’d cut you off again, only this time, you didn’t feel like trying to argue back. “Gather ‘round! We’ve got cause to celebrate tonight!”

Pearson looked up from his table, lowering the butcher’s knife in his hand. Abigail walked into view, holding John’s hand in her own. Hosea glanced up from his book, a smile etched on his face.

“We’ve got a new man joining our gang! Mister Javier Escuella will be riding with us from now on!” Dutch waved his hands with a dramatic flair as the few members of the camp joined him at the campfire. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Callander brothers emerge from their tents, both looking a little bewildered but enthusiastic. “Join me in celebrating a new addition to our growing family!” Everyone seemed drawn to the idea of a party, though you had other plans. You tossed the shoes you were still carrying outside your tent before approaching Bill and Miss Grimshaw where they had just finished setting up a small sleeping quarters for Javier.

“Already no sight of him. Vagabond probably ran with the clothes soon as he was fed.” Miss Grimshaw clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Set this thing up for nothing.”

“He stuck around, I’m sure of it.” You said calmly, to Miss Grimshaw’s dismay. “Go and enjoy the party. I’ll get him, Miss Grimshaw.” You nodded your head as respectfully as possible, though the older woman still shook her head disapprovingly at you.

It didn’t take long to find Javier. He was curled up on the ground just outside of the camp, head resting in the dirt, fast asleep. You knelt down beside him, prodding him with your hand.

“Come on, get up.” You whispered softly. He woke with a start, eyes wide open as he sat bolt upright. He looked around in fear for a moment, before his eyes landed on you and his breathing slowed again.

His breath caught in his chest for a moment, and he shook his head quickly to regain his senses.

“Woah- I didn’t mean to scare you.” You said quietly. Javier looked at you with confusion in his tired eyes. Without thinking, you reached over to brush some of the dirt off of him. He flinched away, recoiling from your touch. Respectfully, you backed off. “You don’t have to sleep out here tonight. Come with me.” You stood up, brushing the dirt from your knees and holding your hand out for him. He took it hesitantly, wincing as you pulled him to his feet. He stumbled just a bit, and you reached out to steady him. “You look exhausted.” You murmured, mostly to yourself. You put your hand on his back, helping him stay upright as you guided him back into camp towards his tent.

“¿A dónde me llevas?” He spoke quietly, tiredly, almost sounding a little annoyed. Unsure of how to respond, you just stayed quiet, stopping just short of the tent.

“You’re sleeping here tonight.” You pointed to the bedroll on the ground, and Javier looked at you with. He gestured towards the bedroll.

“¿Mío?” He asked, his voice raspy and exhausted. You nodded, pushing him gently towards the tent. Seemingly understanding, he crouched down, crawling into the tent and laying down. He seemed to collapse onto the bedroll, his shoulders shaking with a relieved sigh. “Gracias señorita…Gracias.” He spoke just barely under his breath. As he drifted off to sleep despite the shouting of Bill and the Callander boys, you felt the slightest hint of a smile appear on your face. Davey called you by your name, beckoning you over, and with a roll of your eyes, you joined the rest of the gang around the fire as a bottle of whiskey was thrust into your open hands.

[yourwakingnightmares]

Scott Summers Character Study

Okay, does anyone else have those characters that they don’t follow full-time, but they always come back to? Kind of like that old sweatshirt you keep: sure, you have new ones, and they’re great, but that old one is just comfortable, and perfect.

Scott Summers has always been that character for me; like, sometimes I might go months, or years without writing, or looking up anything Scott Summers related... Then something happens, and boom. There it goes, I’m on a roll again. And so... Here we are with my rant of the day.

Buckle in folks, this is gonna be a long one.

I think a lot of people have dismissed Scott as a character, saying that he’s ‘flat’, or ‘one-dimensional’. And if you only periodically glance at comics, or peruse through the movies, I can see how you’d come to that conclusion.

Because unlike Logan (who I do enjoy, this isn’t an anti-Logan post), whose story is easy to follow, easy to understand, Scott’s story is nuanced; it’s something developed over time, with small hints and glimpses thrown in.

For example... what we find out is that Scott is the way he is, because Xavier made him that way. Xavier needed a leader, but he was stuck with Scott: a boy who had lost his parents. A boy who’d suffered from a horrific brain injury. A boy who’d been experimented on, and mind-raped by Nathaniel Essex, also known as Mr. Sinister for Scott’s formative years following his brain injury. A boy who escaped a sadistic telepath, only to end up in the hands of an abusive criminal.

So what does Xavier do? Well, he smooths out those edges; he puts subtle compulsions to turn Scott into the leader he needs him to be. He takes the edge off of the worst memories, and turns them into something distant; something that Scott can look at like a movie starring someone else as the traumatized kid.

Now, don’t misunderstand me: Scott was a brilliant leader. He had the tactical ability, the logistical knowledge to be a leader, even without Xavier. Which is what makes what Xavier did that much worse.

Because what that means is that Scott could’ve gotten there on his own; he could’ve been that leader without Xavier screwing with his head.

Xavier took a kid who needed a home, who needed stability, who needed therapy, and said, “Aha! I know a quicker route! Screw that other stuff; that’ll take years to be effectual! I’ll just do a bit of mental landscaping, and wall off the emotions he felt; I’ll just take the edge off those memories! Surely, nothing can go wrong!”

Looking at Scott’s relationship with Jean from this perspective also sheds new light on it: Scott’s mind had been violated by three telepaths, all of whom had only their own goals in mind. Mr. Sinister, Jack Winters, and Charles Xavier all were concerned more with Scott as means to an end, than they were with Scott himself.

Enter Jean Grey. A young girl, who is a freak even by mutant standards. She struggled to keep her telepathy under control, and we’re frequently shown in comics, books, and even the movies, that she picked up stray thoughts from almost everyone, leading to some very embarrassing moments for everyone. She was an outcast among outcasts.

Not to Scott though. When everyone else is worried about keeping their thoughts locked up tight around Jean, when everyone else is avoiding her so she doesn’t accidentally read their minds... Scott embraces her. He falls in love with her.

And I don’t think we truly ever look at why. Because here was a kid who had every justifiable reason to hate Jean -he’d spent roughly half his life being a plaything for telepaths, people who plucked out things they didn’t like, or added things they wanted. Out of everyone at the Mansion, Scott truly had the best reason to fear and/or hate Jean; out of all of them, Scott best knows the dangers of having a telepath rooting around in other people’s minds. But he doesn’t. Instead, he falls in love with her.

Why? Don’t misunderstand me, they had things they loved about each other in their relationship, but how did it even begin? Why was Scott so open and accepting about Jean’s fragile control over her telepathy in their teenage years?

Because he’d never had any say in who played in his head to begin with. To him, Jean’s accidental slip-ups were nothing compared to the other telepaths he’d interacted with. While everyone else saw Jean’s powers for what they were (an invasion of their most sacred thoughts, accidental or not), Scott was so screwed in the head that it wouldn’t have crossed his mind to be angry or upset about it.

This isn’t to malign Jean, or her and Scott’s relationship; after all, Jean hadn’t done anything wrong either. But it casts a rather dark shadow over the beginnings of their relationship.

But why does Scott become so enamored with Jean? To the point where, after her death, he marries a woman who -although he doesn’t know it -is quite literally a clone of her?

Because Jean was the first telepath who didn’t screw with his head; probably the only person who truly knew what was going on in Scott’s head, and didn’t run screaming. Although he would later meet another, for many years, Jean was the only telepath Scott had had in his mind who didn’t remake his mental landscape.

And think about it: how many people would’ve been comfortable having a lover who literally knew what you were thinking, 24/7? That’s not being mean, that’s just pragmatism: we rarely share our innermost thoughts with anyone, and yet we see that Jean was as comfortable in Scott’s head as she was her own.

We see that Jean’s death devastated Scott; for the first time, he went against his programming. For the first time, we start to catch glimpses of Scott beyond what Sinister, Winters, and Xavier created.

Now, what Scott did to Madelyne was wrong; there’s no two ways around it. However, what can we learn from this, when viewed in context with everything else?

Following Jean’s death, Scott acted like a man who’d lost a piece of himself. He starts searching for his past (finding his grandparents in Alaska), where he meets a woman who is practically the physical twin of his soulmate. Within months, Scott proposes, and they get married, eventually having a son (and we won’t even get into the fact that Scott allows Madelyne to name his son after a man who nearly broke him).

As an adult, these actions can only be looked at as selfish, and reprehensible. But what if we look at it through a different lens for a moment.

These actions would be considered ‘normal’ by teenagers, and young adults; hell, most of us went to school with couples whose story emulated Scott and Madelyne’s. Scott’s first and only girlfriend dies tragically, and he decides to try and learn more about his past -for the first time since his parents died. He meets a girl, rebounds hard, and gets married quickly, only to realize what most adults already know: rebounds never work, and never last. Looking at Madelyne was a benefit at the start, but as time went on, it became a knife in his chest: she was the physical twin of Jean, after all, but she wasn’t really Jean -in fact, Madelyne and Jean had very little in common beyond the physical.

Any healthy adult would have understood this; that physically looking like someone doesn’t mean two people are the same. While this doesn’t excuse Scott’s treatment of Madelyne, it at least gives us a reason. He’s acting out, searching for his origins, and falling in love with a girl who looks like the only person who loved him for who he was. Just like a teenage boy would do.

Now, again: this behavior is unacceptable. As a society, we teach boys this, and they learn through experience. It’s a life lesson -however, it’s one that Scott never got to learn. Scott never got to be a teenage boy; he never got the chance to learn, because Xavier had turned him into his perfect little soldier who never questioned him from such a young age (and prior to that, his only consistent interactions were with the men who abused him, mentally and physically).

Later, we see Scott with Emma Frost -a woman most consider to be a villain, a woman who had fought against the X-Men before. Why?

Well, firstly, let’s consider the implications that Scott chooses another relationship with a female telepath. Sure, with Jean, we explained why they ended up together, but by the time Scott meets Emma, he’s older; he’s more experienced. Why does he put himself in a relationship with someone with the same telepathic abilities as the men who nearly destroyed his very sense of self as a child?

We have to remember that, at first, Emma simply offers to telepathically counsel Scott; to try and piece together the shattered void of his mental landscape. Meaning that Emma was the first person at that point to see the emerging Scott Summers -Jean knew the Scott that had been created, manipulated, and ordered around by Xavier, but following Jean’s death, we start to see glimpses of the real Scott. And Emma is the first telepath to get to see inside Scott’s head, as he starts to throw off the remnants of what Xavier had turned him into.

And she starts to fall in love with him. Unlike with Jean, there are no demands or expectations in place; Emma accepts him for who he is. He questions his loyalty to Xavier? Emma’s okay with that. He questions who he actually is? Emma offers to help him find out.

(Please note: this isn’t knocking Jean; she was as much a victim of Xavier as Scott was, in her own way).

But for the first time, we see Scott Summers start to come into his own; we see him making decisions, expressing opinions, expressing wants and desires outside of life as an X-man. We see him show doubt of Xavier, we see him struggling with who he actually is, and who he was made into.

And Emma... Emma just accepts it. She accepts Scott for who he is, with no agenda, no pressure, not expectations.

Moving a head a bit, let’s look at the action that turned Scott into one of the most reviled comic characters: his killing of Charles Xavier, while under the control of the Phoenix Force.

Now, you can look here for my opinions on Xavier, and why I think we should’ve all been celebrating his death. But let’s look at this for a moment.

Most people’s reactions to this were ‘Xavier raised Scott! Scott was like his son! Scott was one of his first students! How could he?!’

I think the better question, when we look at all the events in Scott’s life is... how did he refrain that long? Xavier’s betrayal of him was so much worse than Sinister’s or Winters’ because Xavier did it as a friend. As a parental figure. Sinister just rewrote, erased, or destroyed things in Scott’s head as he pleased, simply for kicks. Winters’ used his -admittedly limited -telepathic abilities to force Scott to help him steal.

But Xavier saved him from that, right? Xavier gave him a safe place to stay. A place with no more experiments, no more mind-control, no more pain. He earned Scott’s trust, gave him a home, a life, and a purpose.

Only... he didn’t. Xavier betrayed Scott, in a way that Sinister and Winters couldn’t have done. Because Scott didn’t trust them. He trusted Xavier, and Xavier fucked with his head just as badly as Sinister had done. Whereas Sinister and Winters had taken a sledgehammer to Scott’s mental landscape... Xavier just chiseled away at it until it became something he wanted. 

I’m going to end this here, because really, there wasn’t much of a point to this post, other than to detail out a lot of thoughts that have been kicking around for a while. If you agree, or disagree, I’d love to hear it. 

[justmailuck789]

Lightis ‘The Witcher’ AU Headcanon

Ever since I was watching Netflix’s The Witcher, my life’s never been the same. I was hot and bothered by it, constantly thinking about it…I was dying for more lmao. Thankfully, there is a Lightis day dedicated to The Witcher, so I thought…why not make silly headcanons about it? I will say though my knowledge of The Witcher storyline and the lore of it is very lacking, so if I got anything wrong, please accept my humblest apology. A bit of a warning though: The headcanon is very lengthy and long. And by lengthy I mean I did it from the beginning and end, because I couldn’t help it to be honest 😅. Hopefully, the undercut will save you guys from reading such a long post. If not, I’M SORRY. Blame Tumblr. Without further ado, let’s start! @lightisdays2k @givelightningherharem

So instead of the existent of “witchers”, there are l’Cie folks living in the world of Eos. And let’s just say these l’Cie have… “superhuman” powers such as strength, prediction of the future, high intelligence, healers, skilled hunters, and more. Finding a l’Cie is pretty hard nowadays since they’re all typically humans. And yes, to identify a l’Cie is if they have their brand on the skin. Most of them cover it up though.

Lightning Farron is a known mercenary l’Cie, always travelling and looking for some gil to feed for herself and sister. Light will accept anything that involves beast eliminations. But because of her always killing beasts, actual hunters who do this for a living get irritated. So, there are a few hunters who are willing to seek her and have her head.

Now let’s fast forward to where Lightning was minding her own business with Serah. The two were trying to find some wood for the fire to use for the night when they hear someone calling for help in the middle of the forest. Light instructs Serah to go back to the tent and hide. The older Farron investigates where the cry is coming from. Lightning finds a lone woman struggling to fight off a big behemoth. The woman’s magic is defending her from the incoming bites and scratches, but her powers are quickly fading. So Lightning comes to the rescue and easily defeats the behemoth before it can eat the woman for dinner.

The woman is thankful for Lightning and asked what she wanted. Lightning has nothing she desires, but the woman insisted. She decides to invite Lightning and Serah over to an upcoming banquet with a neighboring country from Niflheim. This is when Lightning discovers she and her sister are going over to some royal banquet and finds out the woman is Queen Aulea of Lucis. And yes, Queen Aulea knew that Lightning is l’Cie (and Serah too).

So at the banquet, Queen Aulea is already exposing the fact that Lightning and Serah are l’Cie, a race that is thought to be extinct.

Let’s say there as an assassination attempt on King Regis in the banquet (they were probably Niflheim spies, but no one knows), but Lightning has yet again saved the royal family and putting that assassin behind bars. Thankful once again, Queen Aulea asks if there is anything Lightning wants. Lightning does not want anything but finding her “focus”.

Every single l’Cie that is breathing in Eos were destined to find their “focus”. If they were fulfill it, then that l’Cie will be granted eternal life by turning into crystal. Or if they fail/give up finding it, then they turn into a beast. But for the sake of this AU, imma say that the l’Cie were already granted eternal life without being turned into crystal, staying forever in their 20s-30s.

ANYWAYS…the element of surprise comes to play when Queen Aulea suddenly vomits in the banquet! “What did you do?!” Regis panicked. His Queen is pregnant, and it’s linked towards Lightning. Of course, I’m not saying Light is gonna be the mother of Noctis in the future, but he is gonna be connected towards her “focus”.

Destiny (and Serah) starts throwing clues at Lightning about the future of Lucis and the whole world, but Lightning coolly dismisses it because she thinks it’s all foolery.

12 years and 9 months later, Insomnia falls. Just hours before the fall, Lightning and Serah decided to visit Insomnia, after the two sisters had an argument about how the past events they got themselves into were just too coincidental to begin with: like how Lightning was unable to sleep that whole week, the vague words of a dying princess she was hired to kill. Lightning eventually agrees with Serah to accept the fact she and King Regis’s child were meant to be. However, King Regis refuses and puts Lightning and Serah in prison.

Once Niflheim invades Insomnia, Lightning and Serah escaped the prison. They both see that King Regis is dead, making it a very high priority for Lightning to search for the kid.

I KNOW IT’S STUPID BUT HEAR ME OUT--Oh yeah and maybe Serah turns into crystal after fulfilling her “focus” when she tells her sister to find Noctis, now that things are starting to get real.

Meanwhile, 12-year-old Noctis escapes Insomnia, his father’s words of “finding a l’Cie named Lightning, for she is your destiny”. Now I dunno if I want to add in Noct’s friends (Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis). …Maybe I should since it’ll be weird to have Noctis to be by himself. Don’t worry, none of them dies!

Of course, Niflheim does find out Prince Noctis is still out there, alive…and the emperor wants him dead.

At some point, Lightning and Noctis meets up. The real fun begins here because lklfkds. Lightning trains Noctis and the boys most of their lives. Of course, the beginning of training wasn’t too fun in Noctis’s eyes. Wooden swords? Fighting with dummies? LAME. Noctis wants some real training, but Light is so damn strict. She probably made him run about 3 miles and back to her home as punishment.

Noct will quickly learn that Light also has a soft heart. Light can be relentless with her kills whenever there were beasts or bandits within her property, it makes Noct wonder if she’s “human”. This all changes when he sees her tending to an injured black wolf pup. He thought she was gonna kill it, but she didn’t. She was nice enough to let him keep the pup since she can tell the pup is an orphan. Thus, Noctis affectionately names the wolf Umbra hehehe.

Along with the intense training Noct and boys were doing, there were also some cute moments within Light’s house. As a little boy with child-like tendencies, Noctis wanted to play in the beach near her home instead of training today. And because Noct was being so damn cute, Light couldn’t deny him and let him relax. He swore he saw her smile for a second.

And maybe…just maybe…Noctis started to develop feelings for Lightning. He shook his head, it’s only a small crush. I mean she is pretty and all, but she probably has a lover or something…right?

Then about 6 months later (after the beach time fun), some snitch pointed a finger at Lightning’s house, and a small Niflheim army marched over there. SHIT! Lightning cursed and woke Noctis and the boys up. The only thing Noct heard from her is “RUN!” before she clashed a sword with a Niflheim soldier. Noctis wanted to fight, too, but he was too young. So he and the boys fled off while Light fights off every soldier. And it took her a while, got a few injuries, but she survived. She tried to go look for him, thinking maybe he’d hid somewhere but he was nowhere to be found. Light searched high and low for him without any luck.

And let’s say Noct and the boys were caught, but Niflheim only got him in less than a minute because Noct somehow warped away from his captures and escaped with his friends. The boys never really did reunite with Lightning now that Niflheim knows Noct is on the run.

Years later, Lightning finally gets a lead of Noct’s whereabouts after looking for him in what it seems like forever. She wouldn’t know how old he is since it’s been THAT long the last time she saw him. He’s must be an adult by now…she guessed. She eventually learns that the young prince is looking for royal arms scattered around Eos and attempting to defeat Niflheim by himself and his friends (also reclaiming the throne as the rightful king of Lucis).

She would be so close in reuniting with him after years not seeing him, but he’s always a step ahead of her. While Noct is on his mission, Niflheim is also tracking him down. Being the last prince of the Caelum family, he is still connected to the Crystal’s power. And let’s pretend that Emperor Aldercapt can’t get his wrinkly fingers on the Crystal, so as long as Noctis is still alive, which is the reason why Niflheim is hunting him down.

FINALLY, Lightning and Noctis reunite in Altissia! Light would notice…Noct grew to a fine young man, as well as Prompto, Gladiolus, and Ignis. But their happy little reunion would be cut short when there’s word that the Niflheim army is approaching. And Noct and Light knew they wouldn’t be able to fight the army with only five people, so they need to round up few more people. Noct would be asking around the people in Leide region, Duscae, and Tenebrae while Lightning will be rounding up other l’Cie folks, Cleigne region of Lucis, and talking to first secretary Camelia in Altissia.

With the whole world of Eos fighting against Niflheim, the empire army gets a bit overwhelmed heh. The army retreats. But it’s not a celebration yet! Emperor Aldercapt is still alive, and Noct is determined to kill that old man now that he has the 13 royal arms with him.

LET’S TALK ABOUT THE DAMN ROMANCE NOW THAT NOCTIS IS OLDER YAYYYY 😘. Noctis actually wanted to reunite with her earlier, but things keep getting in the way. Maybe Light started to feel attracted to him too when she sees him for the first time in years. Even though he has physically changed, he’s still the sweet boy she remembers. Oh yeah don’t worry Umbra is here too!

In battle though, Noct is little too eager to fight and wants to go in head on with his warp strike. Light would be annoyed by it and the two would argue about how they battle. For example, Noct would sometimes overuse his Royal Arm weapon which drains him and make him vulnerable to attack. Light would be there to deflect the attack and give him a potion. And Ignis and the others would tell Noct he needs to be careful. To his defense, he forgets, but not when Light is yelling at him as if he just committed a murder and didn’t tell anyone.

Now there was a point where Noct and Light were doing a side mission where they were attending a masquerade ball because there is a former Niflheim spy wishing to talk to Noct and spill the tea about the emperor’s plan. The ball itself was beautiful. Light was beautiful in a dress. Noct couldn’t stop staring at her. There was that one time a drunk was stalking them and hitting on Light, that it made Noctis to kiss Lightning to show that she’s supposedly “taken”. The kiss was sweet. She realized…he’s a good kisser 😩.

They probably banged a few times too when the chemistry starts heating up. First time was when they were arguing after the fact a djinn escaped and Noct wanted to use it to grant three wishes 🤭. Light knew djinns are no joke, so she fought and freed the djinn, making Noct pissed hehe. Their second time was when Noct confessed his feelings to her. “You’re important to me…” he whispered in his sleep.

Pillow talk moments where he learns how she craves to be human again instead of being a l’Cie, how he promised her they’ll get rid of the l’Cie mark together, even though it look sexy as hell on her left shoulder 😉.

Romance aside, Noct, his friends, and Light now are gonna prepare to fight Emperor Aldercapt once and for all. They knew the fight is gonna be tough. The travel from Lucis to Niflheim will take them a while. The party created a plan to infiltrate the imperial palace. A group of l’Cie mages will create a magic barrier around the palace to prevent anyone from leaving and/or entering the premise. And if the backup tries to harm the l’Cie, Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto will be there to defend.

Noct and Light would be the one fighting Emperor Aldercapt. It was a tough fight. The old man sure can use his magic pretty well 😯. Noct was gravely injured at some point and was about to be killed when Lightning jumped in took the hit!

But…BUT. Time suddenly stops! Light meets Etro Herself in another dimension. Seems like Etro is mad that Lightning is intervening Noct’s inevitable death. But Light wasn’t going to let it happen because she loves him. Then Etro says something about Light’s focus, which is to make sure Noct doesn’t die and that he is crowned king. But because Noctis is gonna die, it’ll mean Light has failed her focus, but she’s not gonna have that shit. So you know what happens? She fights with Etro 😱. Light ended up winning and decided to let Noctis live and make Light defend the incoming blow once time resumes back to normal. Unbeknownst to her, she didn’t notice her l’Cie brand is gone.

At last, Emperor Aldercapt is defeated! Noct and his friends are now deemed heroes of Eos. Noctis wants Light to be queen, so they married and start rebuilding Insomnia to its former glory 😊.

[cameronspecial]

King of CSCC (Prologue)

Pairing: Rich Kid! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: When Y/N gets a scholarship to attend Collegialiter Schola Currere Cucurri, a prestigious boarding school in England. She’s very studious and organizes, everything needs to be a certain way for her to be happy. Tom is the resident fuckboy at school and,  with his daddy being the richest man on earth, he practically owns the school. What happens when Tom falls completely in love with Y/N, but she doesn’t want to be with him because of his reputation.

Words: 2 159

Y/N stands in front of the massive brick building with beautifully and neatly done cobblestone tiles on the roof. From where she stands, Y/N could see that two big towers and two smaller ones are attached to the main building of the school. To her left, a soccer field and to her right, a rugby field with an outdoor running track. Behind the soccer field, she could see a big rectangle building that, from what she read about the school, must be the school’s gymnasium. Y/N couldn’t believe that she is actually here in front of Collegialiter Schola Currer Cucurri which is Latin for something she couldn’t remember anymore. It’s the best school in the world, the only people that could attend the school are the elite, rich and famous, but once every year, the school awards a scholarship that covers everything (laundry, meal plane, books, uniform, etc) to one lucky student going into their 11th school year. The chosen student has to be the best and brightest out of all the applicants and this year, it just so happened to be Y/N L/N. She has been working her whole life for this and now her dreams for a better future are finally coming true. Her home life in Toronto wasn’t the best in terms of education. She didn’t learn enough at the public school she went to, so when she saw the opportunity to attend the most prestigious boarding school in the world, she jumped at the chance to apply. It also helped that she’s always wanted to live in England. She finally manages to shake off her nerves and walks into the school.

Upon entering the school, Y/N notices how much cleaner and how the equipment is so much better than what she had back at home. The hallways were empty seeing as it was the Saturday before school started, so she is all alone in the school. After a few minutes, she manages to find her way to the principal’s office while struggling to bring all of her bags with her at the same time. The new student gently arranges her bags near the door to make sure they are not in the way, then she lifts her hand to the door and knocks. “You may enter,” an authoritative voice instructs her. Y/N enters to see a middle-aged woman sitting at her desk looking over some documents with her glasses balancing off of her nose. The older woman looks up at the sound of the door closing and motions for Y/N to sit on one of the chairs in front of her desk, “You must be Miss. L/N, our scholarship winner.” Y/N nods her head to show her agreement, she isn’t going to lie, but she is a little intimidated by the principal. “Alright, classes start on Monday at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Miss. Daniels should already be at the front office waiting for you. She’ll be your guide for the day. Here is your schedule and some other information you might need. If you have any questions, then you may ask Miss. Daniels and I would also like to inform you that if your marks slip even by a percent that you will lose your scholarship. Is that clear?” Ms. Sinclair informs the pupil. “Yes,” Y/N answers quietly because she’s slightly terrified with how cold the principal seems. “Good, you may address me as Ms. Sinclair and nothing else. You are dismissed,” Ms. Sinclair demands. Y/N quickly gets out of her chair and goes towards the door.

Y/N grabs her bags a little bit more easily now that she knows how to handle all of them and makes her way back towards the front of the school where she saw the front office. When she gets to the front of the school, she notices a girl around her age waiting in front of the office. The teen notices Y/N approaching and immediately rushes to help her with a smile on her face.  “Hi, you must be Y/N L/N. I am Delilah Daniels and I’ll be your tour guide. I’ll give you a tour of campus, then I can help you move into your dorm if you’d like. You don’t have to worry about your bags, I’ll call the concierge to come get them and bring them to your room. Now, the first stop is going to be the science labs where you bio and chemistry,” Delilah introduces herself. Y/N notices that Delilah has a British accent that is as smooth as butter.  The girls place the bags near the entrance and shake each other’s hands, “I am Y/N. Nice to meet you. And the science lab sounds like a great start.” Delilah makes a quick call to the concierge, then they walk down the hall to the left and up the stairs to her biology lab. “Now, upstairs to the left is the science wing, so you have all the science labs up here. Your bio lab is in room 203 and your chemistry lab is in room 220,” Delilah starts off, “Let’s head over to where you are going to be taking geometry and algebra, which is on upstairs on the right side of the also known as the mathematics wing. This term you’re only taking geometry, algebra, biology, and math. Next term you’re taking media arts, English literature, French, and psychology, right?” Y/N nods along to what Delilah says, “That seems right. Your last names Daniels right? As in your parents are Anna and Maurice Daniels, Daniels? They own practically every chain hotel I can think of.” “Yep, those are my old folks. They could be a little hectic and gone, but they have always been there for me when I need them and I know they love me. That’s all that really matters, right? So what do your parents do for a living? You live in Toronto right?” Delilah questions the new girl. “Yeah, I do. My mom works as a social worker, she tries to help kids in the system. My dad is a baker, we actually live on top of the bakery he owns. My little sister and brother always like to head down to the bakery at the end of the day and steal whatever leftovers are left. Do you have any siblings?” Y/N explains. “No, I am an only child. It gets a little lonely sometimes, but that’s alright. I would love to live over a bakery! The smell of freshly baked pastries would waft into the house and it could smell like freshly baked croissants every day. The math wing is just around the corner,” Delilah rants a little as they head over to the math wing.

When they rounded the corner, two other people were rounding the corner at the same time. A collision would have happened, but Y/N’s quick reflexes stopped them from crashing. In front of the two girls were two boys about their age wearing Versace, Prada, Gucci, and some other clothing brands that Y/N could never dream about owning. The boy on the left is taller than the boy on the right, he has dirty blonde hair and clear blue eyes. He’s handsome, but the boy on the right is the show stopper for Y/N. He has dark chestnut brown hair that matches his eyes. His nose is a little cricked and his lips are a little thin, but she liked how the nose made him look rugged and how his lips still looked perfect to kiss. His jaw looks so sharp that she believes is she were to run her finger along it she would cut it. No matter how badly the young girl wanted to go on a date with him, she knew about who he is and what his reputation is. He’s the infamous Tom Holland or as the tabloids like to call him, Holland the Lady Killer. His motto is hit then quit it and that really isn’t what Y/N is looking for. “Hey, just who we were looking for! I told Haz that you’d be showing the scholar bee around the school. You’ve always loved to meet new people. Thought we’d come join you seeing as this year’s scholar bee is a female and not another boring ass dude. So does the little lady have a name?” Tom inquires slyly as he makes his way over to Delilah and slings his hand around her neck. “My names Y/N. What’s it matter to you?” She snarls not liking what he said at all. “Damn, you got a mouth on you. I like a girl who isn’t afraid to talk back. Well, I guess it’s my turn to introduce. I am Tom and this div beside me is Harrison,” Tom tries to say in the most charming voice he could. Y/N just scoffs and keeps walking, “Whatever. Nice to meet you, Harrison. Now, let’s head over to the mathematics wing.” “Looks like we finally found someone who can resist Tommy’s charm,” Haz whispers to his two comrades as they follow Y/N down the hall.

After finishing the tour of the campus, the four newly acquainted friends headed over to Y/N’s dorm so that they could help her unpack. “Okay, everything is labelled clearly so it shouldn’t be too hard trying to figure out where everything should go,” Y/N elucidates while tying her hair back and picking up one of the boxes that was labelled closet- Hoodies and Shirts. Everyone went to work on cleaning out the boxes while they worked they talked, reminisce about old stories, joked around, and listened to some music. Symphony by Clean Bandit played on her phone and Y/N started swaying to the music. “I’ve been hearing symphonies before all I heard was silence. A rhapsody for you and me, and every melody is timeless,” she sang as she organized the books onto her bookshelf. Tom looks up from the clothes he was folding for her and stares in awe of her voice. To him, she sounded like an angel and all he wanted to do is listen to her sing all day. He may not have noticed it, but the whole afternoon he found himself noticing little things that he liked about her and he just wanted to be closer to him. He liked how she had all these random facts and how she could joke about anything and everything. He liked how organized she is and how she hasn’t fawned over her this whole afternoon. Y/N places the final book onto the shelf and looks over at everyone, “Alright, I can finish putting the clothes away after dinner. Why don’t we get something to eat? I read on the board that it’s taco night.” Everyone voiced their agreement and started to make their way over to the door, but before Y/N could leave, Tom gently tapped her on the shoulder and asked if he could talk to her. “Sure,” she tells him. Tom stands straight and fixes his jacket nervously, “I was wondering if we could restart. I know, I was a jackass, but I would really like to be friends with you. Plus, I know you, Deli, and Haz get along well and I really don’t feel like being kicked out of my own friend group.” Y/N smiles at Tom to show him that everything is alright. “Tommy, it's fine. Sometimes people start off on the wrong foot and that’s fine. Let’s start, over. Hey, I am Y/N. I don’t believe I got your name,” Y/N says nicely as she sticks her hand out for Tom to shake. He chuckles and takes her hand, “It’s Tom, Tom Holland. You may have heard of me. My dad owns the world’s best phone company as well as several other companies you may have heard of.” “Okay, now you just sound like cocky. How about we just head over to the mess hall and call it a day?” Y/N suggest as how she links their arms and walks off to the mess hall.

When dinner was over, Y/N was feeling a little jet-lagged so she headed back to her dorm to get some sleep while the other three decided to head to the game room. They were playing pool when Harrison decided to bring up the conversation. “So you and Y/N…” he wonders out loud as he aims the queue at one of the balls. Tom leans on the wall and retorts, “Nothing is going on between us. We are just friends that’s all.” Delilah snorts and laughs, “Yeah, right! I noticed your side glances at her, but I’ll let you deny whatever you want if it helps you sleep at night.” Tom just shakes his and continues the game without mentioning Y/N again, but that night when he was trying to get to sleep all he could do was think back to the conversation they had in the game room and Y/N’s angelic singing voice.

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I hope you guys enjoyed and I would love to hear what you guys thought!

Taglist:  @bookgirlunicorn  @itsjstz  @rachaeldonnaspiteri1  @madithemagicalfangirl  @glcssyholland  @marisophie  @truestrengths @mjsholland @iwastornsincethestart @saltysebastianstan @loxbbg @linnyalou @scoobieboobiedoo

[dishwater-blondie]

On Gabenath and the Fandom Divide

So this is gonna be a little different. 

You know, I wonder if fandom culture is a lot like literature, in which there is no single right way to engage with it, but there are certainly a few wrong ways.

I have been active in very few fandoms throughout my life, and I would even say that when it comes to ML and Gabenath, I confine myself to a very small and specific corner. I am very shy. I get easily overwhelmed. All I am here to do is write some fan fiction and hopefully find folks who enjoy it. Being reclusive has meant that I haven’t engaged much with a lot of other fans, and certainly not with very many early Gabenath shippers. 

My lack of experience with fandom culture is something I partially regret, because I have built up resentment for this particular section of the Gabenath fan base and have been led to draw conclusions about their views on certain characters and relationships; however, many of them have done the same to newer fans like myself, failing to acknowledge our understandings, our intentions, and our reasons for enjoying Gabenath in the first place. 

Anyone who follows this blog knows where I come from. I’m a young woman who likes to take this silly show very seriously sometimes, but there’s an element of good fun that comes with looking very deeply into things, don’t you think? I would find myself awfully bored if I consumed all content passively, casually, if I let it wash over me and never tried to analyze why I’m finding myself so intrigued. I like to get to the bottom of things. Maybe that’s in my nature as a writer. 

I don’t expect everyone to agree with me. After all, Gabenath shippers take up a pretty humble space in the ML fandom as a whole, especially those who are not as invested in the lovesquare as the majority of watchers are. There will always be those who don’t believe Gabriel or Nathalie deserve the possibility of a happy ending, and those who would like to see it, but cannot envision the show taking the necessary steps to get there. Regardless, anyone who has taken the time to read my analysis posts can see that I don’t pull any of this out of nowhere. I delve into the details the show itself has provided, and I reach my own conclusions. I don’t believe that any “serious” post I’ve made has been baseless. 

That is what’s so frustrating about the divide between older fans of the ship and newer ones. Early Gabenath fans of Season 1 and early Season 2 had a blank slate to work with in developing the dynamic between Nathalie and Gabriel. The newer ones that have flooded in post-Season 2, like myself, are doing so in reaction to the actual events of the show, the established and ongoing portrayal of a relationship that is only continuing to evolve. I have witnessed and attempted to engage in situations between older and newer fans where the older fans have dismissed developments of the most recent episodes in favor of the early characterizations of the first season. 

To pause, I don’t want to generalize here. Not all early Gabenath shippers are like this, of course, just like not all newer fans are like me. We are all coming from different places and enjoying this ship from different angles. There’s nothing wrong with that. 

But it confuses me. I’ve now been made aware of multiple occasions where older fans have shut down some of the newer beliefs that have arisen in the fandom as of late, such as the notion that (and I flinch to speak so controversially) Gabriel could get a redemption and Emilie may come out of all of this being the villain in the end. There’s nothing at all inherently wrong with not wanting or anticipating this to be the outcome. We’re all here for fun. Watch and think the way you choose. But when it comes to engaging with fans who have, like myself, presented actual evidence supporting our own interpretations, I find it insulting to be told that the playful terms “pull the plug” or “Fuck Emilie Juice” are disrespectful, as if they encompass my assessments, as if I have ever genuinely hated this character.

First, I must ask, what character? Emilie, as of now, is a plot device. A symbol at best. She’s spoken not one word. But second, it is awfully unfair and patronizing to assume that newer fans who think of Emilie as a villain or hope for a Gabriel redemption are engaging with these concepts mindlessly. From what I’ve seen, dismissals of conversations about the possibility of redemption, the stakes of the Gabenath relationship, or wouldn’t-it-be-cool-if-Emilie-was-at-the-heart-of-this-agenda have been presumptuous rejections of newer fandom ideas, and by extension, the people who have introduced and explored them, particularly because they haven’t been given the time of day. 

It’s kinda funny, isn’t it? We sure do like to criticize this show for being so stagnant. Yet, in the space of just three seasons, this considerable divide has formed between the older and newer Gabenath shippers. The lovesquare drama has always been the same, for the most part. Fans argue about which of the square’s dynamics is best, argue about how Luka and Kagami fit into this, but until there is any game-changing development, I can’t imagine that there will be this particular brand of divisiveness, between early fans who prefer the first season and the newer ones who emerged once things started to get complicated.

What matters is the way we engage with each other. I don’t intend to imply that either type of fan is better. Newer shippers are not all perfect either. Due to the events of Season 3, I think some of us have a morbid fascination with Nathalie’s suffering and insist on putting her through the worst situations possible. I admit to being guilty of this, and I aim to tackle these issues with as much grace and tact as I can. I don’t want my writing to exist for the purpose of shock value.

But I digress - my point here is not that I’m going to demand people agree with my personal impressions of these characters or relationships, but rather that when we do in fact disagree, we at least can reach a full understanding of where other shippers are coming from. Early fans have conceived their own versions of Gabenath, being given total liberty by the lack information we were provided in the earlier seasons, and these are perfectly valid. They’re entertaining. They’re fun to look back on and play around with now. But I’ve witnessed the opinions of newer fans being looked down upon as if they were senseless examples of character hate, when in reality they are grounded in the evolution of the narrative and speculation on its thematic objectives. From the way I’ve experienced things, this isn’t being acknowledged, and I want to see that change. 

This may have all come out of no where. I’m fortunate enough to have never been directly shut down, and that’s purely thanks to my reserved nature. But it hurts to see newer fans, my friends feel unwelcome in the fandom when they just got here. When they have so much to offer. When all they wanted was to create and have fun and establish themselves. 

So, yeah, this is my Fuck Emilie tirade, ‘Fuck Emilie’, of course, referring to my want for my friends to express these meta topics in either an analytical or comical manner without having to worry about the preceding trends, without having to feel spurned by other fans who haven’t even tried to bridge the gap. Sorry, Emilie, girl. It ain’t personal. 

And hey, if I’m wrong about Gabenath, if I’m wrong about Emilie, and redemption, and the show in its entirety, then I’ll eat my words. And it won’t matter, because this is a sparkly TV show for children and everything I have said on it in the past has been in the spirit of enjoying it. 

Raise your glass. 

[lightchildofthespring]

The fantastic adventures of Takeru Takaishi

Chapter 3: Takeru's amazing (ruined) plan

{In which Takeru’s marvelous plan to save the revolutionaries doesn’t work quite as predicted and one Ken Ichijouji steals his thunder when it comes to speeches}

When Osamu told his little brother to stop working on the pepper field to join the henchmen, Ken was hesitant, but couldn't think on a good excuse to decline. It was too exhaustive to work 18 hours per day, seven days per week, on one of Yamanaka's farms, after all. And the payment of 50 cents of royale per hour was far from being enough to buy food and other necessary things from the shops controlled by Yamanaka. Since most of the population of Turtle Island worked on his farms, most of the people were indebted to him and couldn't leave their jobs; those who tried to escape without paying their debts were hunted by his henchmen and murdered as examples.

However, there was one opportunity for a simple worker to gain a bigger remuneration: to become a henchman. The problem was that a henchman's job was to assure that workers remained productive and obedient, to collect taxes and other payments and to severely punish those who didn't fall in line. That was the job Osamu had chosen. His alleged reason for working for Yamanaka was to pay their family's debt and save enough money to buy a good boat, so he and his brother could start a travelling business. For Ken, that excuse wasn't good enough. Nevertheless, it was difficult to say no to Osamu.

For that reason, he was following his brother and the other henchmen up the hill to fight the revolutionaries. Osamu insisted for Ken to carry a shotgun like his, but Ken took a small pistol instead. He wasn't planning to fire it, but his brother wouldn't like to hear that.

“Just you wait until you shoot someone for the first time, Ken. You'll see there's nothing difficult about it,” Osamu told him.

“Have you ever... killed people...?” Ken asked.

“I do my job,” Osamu said back. “If everybody just did what they were supposed to do, they wouldn't have to be punished. Honestly, it's their own fault if they get killed.”

“Was it Mom's and Dad's fault...?” Ken muttered.

Osamu turned to face him. His angry expression made Ken step back.

“Stop bringing them up!” Osamu ordered. “They shouldn't have tried to run from paying their debt! They should've paid it! If it wasn't for their transgression, maybe I wouldn't have to do this kind of job in the first place! I'm the one who provides for you, so show me some respect!”

“I do work on the farm...” Ken murmured, looking down.

“You can barely buy bread with your payment!” Osamu stated. “Which is why you should join me as a henchman already! I'll show you how there's no big deal about it!”

Ken shivered, but didn't say anything else. Osamu wouldn't listen to him, anyway.

Right before they entered the woods, someone came from among the trees. It was a young man with spiky red hair and black eyes. He stood in front of the group of 80 people and gave them a severe look.

“You should turn back right away!” the stranger told them. “You are dealing with forces you don't comprehend and your insistence on fighting the revolutionaries will bring-”

Osamu shot the stranger on the forehead before he could finish his sentence. Blood splattered from the bullet injury as the man fell on his back, completely still.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Ken shouted.

“I did my job,” Osamu replied, coldly.

“You just killed someone!” Ken cried. “How can you act as if that's normal?! What's the matter with you?!”

“You better stop disrespecting me, Ken! Or else!” Osamu said in a threatening tone.

However, they noticed shrieks coming from the large group around them; those men and women who usually bragged about not being scared by anything were all pointing to the stranger who had been killed not long before. Ken and Osamu turned to that direction and saw the red-haired man standing up. The bloody hole on his forehead expelled the bullet and then closed itself. He tried to wipe away some of the blood on his face, but he just spread it more.

“You're still here...?” the stranger had a confused voice. “I had never come back so fast... please, don't kill me again, otherwise-”

The henchmen discharged their weapons on the stranger as if there was no tomorrow. Maybe because they probably thought there would be no tomorrow for them if they didn't kill that thing, whatever that was.

“I-I-I must've missed the shot earlier,” Osamu muttered, shaking from head to toes, “yeah... t-that's what happened... but now we definitely killed that guy!”

“OH MY GODDESS, WHAT THE HECK?!” various people shouted, pointing at the man soaked in his own blood, who was once again rising to his feet. The henchmen tried to shoot again, but realized they were out of munition.

“You all are really inconsiderate people, you know that?!” the stranger shouted, furious. “It's my third resurrection today! THIRD! I can't wait for you to die and go to the Underworld! All the people you've killed are waiting for you there! And then, you'll understand the pain you've inflicted on so many others!”

“U-Underworld...?” Osamu asked in a weak voice. “Is he talking about Hell...? D-Did that thing come from H-Hell?!”

“It's a demon!” Someone yelled. “He's going to kill us and drag us to Hell!”

“Do you see now that you're dealing with forces you don't understand?” the red-haired man inquired. “Leave the revolutionaries alone or face the consequences!”

The henchmen all screamed and ran away. Ken was the only one left behind. He fell to his knees, shaking. What had he just witnessed?

“Nooooooooo!!!” a cry came from the woods, followed by an elegant blond man running in the direction of the person who was soaked in his own blood. “Koushiro! You ruined everything! You were supposed to deliver the inspiring speech I wrote and make them see the errors of their ways!”

Five more people followed the well-dressed young man down the hill.

“Well, our group escaped safely and those dreadful henchmen are gone,” a woman with orange hair and a gentle smile said. “The way I see, everything turned out fine. Cheer up, Takeru!”

“But my beautiful speech was never heard!” Takeru cried. “I knew I should've been the one to deliver it!”

“If you had done that, you'd be the one shot on the head,” an older blond man with a grumpy face told the younger one, “unlike Koushiro, you can't come back to life. You would've died pointlessly!”

“You don't have to be so matter-of-the-fact, Yamato...” the woman with orange hair said.

“The special protection I created worked perfectly!” a beautiful lady with shiny purple hair announced in a proud voice while approaching Koushiro.

“About that, Miss Miyako...” Koushiro murmured, taking from under his shirt what looked like a deformed piece of armor, “... you'll probably have to fix it...”

“That's easy!” Miyako dismissed. “But, tell me, how did you do that trick of faking being shot in the head? It was quite impressive, I must say.”

“I was actually shot in the head multiple times,” Koushiro told her. “I died twice.”

“Yeah, right!” Miyako laughed.

“It's true, Miyako,” a young man with dark pink hair said, “if we look around, we'll certainly find pieces of Koushiro's-”

And, at that moment, his eyes locked with Ken's. Cold sweat ran down Ken's forehead. The revolutionaries had discovered him! What would they do to someone that had stood by their enemies' side? Ken tried to remember terrifying stories about how vengeful the revolutionaries were. But the truth was that he had never actually heard any story like that. When the common folk talked about the revolutionaries, they always used the words “good-for-nothing” and “hiding among the trees.” Maybe Ken shouldn't worry too much about his fate, after all.

“There's still one henchman left!” the pink-haired guy shouted, pointing a finger at Ken, startling almost everyone else.

“You mean you hadn't seen him?” the teenager with dark hair and green eyes asked.

“Iori, you had seen him and didn't alert us?!” Miyako was alarmed.

“I thought he had surrendered or something!” Iori adopted a defensive tone. “How did nobody else notice a person kneeling on the ground?!”

“I don't know... he has kind of an unremarkable face, I guess...” the one with pink hair said.

Unremarkable? Ken couldn't accept that insult! Sure, he had trouble standing up to his beliefs and confronting people, but that didn't mean... in truth, that probably meant he was an unremarkable person. Understanding that made him depressed. Especially because the ones calling him unremarkable were the good-for-nothing revolutionaries that did nothing more than hiding among the trees all day!

“That's kind of a mean thing to say about someone, Daisuke,” the woman with orange hair told the man who had insulted Ken.

“Sora, we don't have to be nice to one of our enemies!” Yamato pointed out. Then, he got closer to Ken and pointed his shotgun to his face.

Reassessing his previous conclusion, Ken decided that maybe he should worry a bit about the revolutionaries. Or at least about the blond grumpy one pointing a shotgun to his face like some maniac.

“Wait, no! He's an ally! Or, better said, he's going to be an ally!” Koushiro shouted. The young man covered in blood ran to Ken's direction and put himself between him and Yamato. “I had a vision of him... erhm... it's kind of a random vision, actually... you were all on a ship... or a boat... and Mr. Takeru was looking at the moon and wondering in loud voice what surprising developments the trip would bring...”

“That is indeed something I do every time I travel...” Takeru admitted, looking up at the dark sky while striking a dramatic pose. Or at least that was what Ken thought he wanted to do as the younger blond man ran his fingers through his hair, shook his head slowly and then pointed at nothing specific in the dark sky. “Because life... is the greatest mystery of all...”

Ken wasn't sure what was happening. Were those fools really the revolutionaries? Even though nobody ever gave too much credit to them, Ken had always assumed they had to be minimally competent to be considered a threat to Yamanaka. But upon encountering that group, he couldn't help but wonder how they hadn't been wiped out yet? Maybe Yamanaka's men were even more incompetent than them. To realize that his oppressors weren't actually a mighty unit but a bunch of incompetent morons that could be taken down with minimal organization and effort was a bit underwhelming.

Koushiro turned to face him, like all the others were doing. But, unlike the other revolutionaries, there was no glimpse of preoccupation in his eyes, as if he was sure that Ken wasn't a threat. Koushiro intrigued him, not only because of his unexplainable resurrections, but mainly because he had the air of someone who knew a lot more than he was willing to share. It took him a few seconds to realize that the others were expecting him to say something. Unsure about what to do, Ken stood up and raised his hands above his head, as a sign that he wasn't dangerous.

“Listen, my name is Ken...” he hesitated, remembering that revealing his family name would denounce him as the brother of someone who certainly had killed several revolutionaries, “I never wanted to work for Yamanaka as a henchman... I worked on one of his farms, though... but what other choice did I have if not working for him in a way or another? He owns everything on Turtle Island! I never wanted to become a henchman, but I was coerced into joining their group anyway! I never killed anyone, though! But if I were to kill a person... it would be the bastard who had my parents murdered because they tried to run from their debts!”

Against his will, Ken let a couple of tears escape his eyes. It was never easy to remember what had happened to his family. If his parents hadn't been caught trying to escape, his predicament certainly wouldn't have been so bad. Maybe his brother wouldn't have become a murderer for the sake of taking care of him.

Yamato put down his shotgun. The threatening aura he had been exhibiting had vanished. In his blue eyes, Ken thought he had seen a glimpse of sadness and compassion.

“My parents were also killed because of debt...” Daisuke said. He approached Ken and put a hand on the newcomer's shoulder, in solidarity. “They were good people... they didn't deserve that... nobody deserves that!”

“My family is alive, but we've been persecuted too. We tried to own a small business... our goal was to sell things for affordable prices... but it got shut-down by force by those men...they broke everything we owned... Yamanaka doesn't like anyone defying his monopoly...” Miyako muttered, also approaching Ken.

“For as long as Yamanaka stays alive, everybody on Turtle Island will continue to suffer!” Sora stated, clenching her fists. Ken was taken aback by the intensity in her voice. It was if those terrible things had happened to her. Perhaps they had, to some extent.

Ken was starting to understand that the revolutionaries were normal people, just like him and everybody he knew. Of course, they suffered because of Yamanaka as well. That should make them the most motivated people to fight him. And thanks to Koushiro, who had dispersed the henchmen, there was no better time to fight that horrible man.

“Let's go kill Yamanaka!” Ken proposed. “His henchmen ran away and, from what I heard, there's only a weird monk protecting him right now! This is the best chance we'll ever have of killing him! Let's do it!”

The revolutionaries exchanged concerned looks. Koushiro paled and looked down.

“Do you think we're foolish enough to listen to someone who was our enemy a couple of minutes ago?” Iori inquired.

“We gave our comrades time to flee, our mission was accomplished!” Yamato reminded the others. “We should reunite with them now! There's no need to do anything unnecessary”

That comment ignited Ken's fury. Was it unnecessary to fight? Was it unnecessary to free Turtle Island from that tyrant?

“Oh, right! Go hide in the woods again! That's all you revolutionaries do, right?” Ken accused. “It's not like you ever bothered about helping anyone!”

“That's not true!” Sora interjected. “We've been recruiting new people and organizing our forces to prepare-”

“For how many decades have the revolutionaries been preparing?” Ken wasn't willing to back down. “How many people have died due to your inaction? How many have lost their loved ones because you weren't ready to fight? You are all a bunch of useless spineless good-for-nothings!”

Nobody contested Ken's accusations, as if deep down they already knew all that. Ken was disappointed. If they at least tried to argue, maybe he could understand the reasons for someone to stay still on the face of injustice. And then, maybe, he would have an excuse for his own life-long inaction. But the truth was that there was no excuse and it was time for Ken to take responsibility for his future instead of letting himself follow the flow. Even if he was alone, he had the moral obligation to at least try to do the right thing.

Ken was about to turn around and head towards Yamanaka's mansion when Sora suddenly spoke:

“You're right!”

Ken stopped moving. Did he hear that right? Did his unremarkable words have an effect on someone else?

“Sora, no!” Yamato protested.

“He's right! This is our best chance! We might never get one like this again!” she stated.

“It's not intelligent to invade that place without a plan!” Yamato insisted. “We should at least head back to our comrades and plan an attack!”

“That would give Yamanaka's henchmen time to regroup,” Miyako said. “This window of opportunity won't open again! We should strike now!”

“I don't like the idea of listening to an enemy but... I'll accept anything to bring justice to Yamanaka's victims!” Iori murmured, angrily.

“To me, it would be stupid to lose this chance! Think about all the people we could save if Yamanaka's rule ends tonight!” Daisuke had hope in his voice. “We can do this! We can win!”

“It's a bit sudden... but I'm all for this new development!” Takeru exclaimed. “In the end, my words really inspired transformation!”

“You mean Ken's words,” Miyako corrected him. “Nobody listened to your speech.”

Takeru had a mortified expression. Then, he looked at Ken with rage so deep that it should only be directed at the most despicable of creatures.

“It seems that there's no stopping you...” Yamato sighed. Then, he turned to Koushiro and asked: “You said we would all be on a ship, right? Does that mean that none of us is going to die tonight?”

“That's correct,” Koushiro confirmed. “You will all survive... I probably won't, though...”

“Why do you say that?” Sora asked, worried.

“That monk that is protecting Yamanaka is not an ordinary person... he's the one responsible for most of my deaths for the last centuries...” Koushiro informed the others. “He won't stop until he kills me for good.”

“Who on Earth is that monk?” Daisuke questioned. “Another demon?”

“An old enemy?” Takeru wondered. “A nemesis?”

Koushiro hesitated for a few seconds before answering:

“My best friend.”

[hpdabbles]

How to Break a Timeline Part 2

Being married to Harry was nothing like he expected marriage to be. Granted as a Black, Regulus knew his definition of marriage wasn’t the same as common folk. Most of the marriages in his family were of convenience rather than love (like his parents) but a few did bloom from emotions such as Cousin Narcissa to Malfoy last summer. 

Still, he didn’t think one’s husband should be this determined to make him a widower not ever three days since the ink dried on their marriage certificate. 

“Harry are you sure we have to do this?” Regulus asks wearily standing before Gringotts. His husband, now properly dressed in fine robes, smiled at him bashfully.  If he hadn’t been wearing that same expression when the taller male had to force the muggle-raised fool into changing his outfits then Regulus would have thought him harmless.

“We need to the cup,” Harry says looping his arm into the curve of Regulus’ own and then quickly planting a peck on his cheek not the bit shy about public display of affection. He took this chance to whisper in his ear  “Don’t worry. I can get us past the dragon. We’ll be fine.”

Oh yes, lets rob Gringotts. Nothing will go wrong. It’s all in the name of stopping the Dark Lord Regulus felt like throwing up. 

Around them, people were gaping at the couple who seem to be whispering sweet nothings to each other-er well one look ecstatic and the other anxious. This is the first time they’ve seen the couple but they been the talk of the British Wizardly world for the past two days.

Everyone is aware that the Black Heir had been recently been proclaim as Black Family Head. 

This change was noted at the last Wizengamot, where Orion’s name had replaced by Regulus’ mid-meeting. This wouldn’t be such a big deal but seeing as his father has not yet died the only way for him to inherit the Black Seat was if he got married. 

Which he did. He just didn’t tell anyone when or whom he married. This was a scandal in and of itself but with the war going on the public needed something to focus on, anything to take their minds off the death and terror.  

Thus, the shotgun marriage has been fully blown out of proportion.

Merlin, Regulus didn’t want to think about his father’s reaction. The man had been sitting in the chair when the inscription change right above his head. His son had gotten married and he wasn’t present for it, he was just as confused as everyone else.

 The reason he hasn’t been sent a howler is that Harry’s tent is charmed with so much protection charms, wards and muggle booby traps it was nearly as protected as Regulus’ ancestral home. 

“Let’s go,” Harry said, with such determination it sounded as if he was stepping into battle. They kind of were and he wondered not for the first time why his life turned out like this. 

It’s only been three days!

Leading the two into the bank, Regulus wondered if he was aware of the reporter following them, her eyes gleaming with greed. Probably not. Harry isn’t from the world of aristocrats, he wasn’t worried about how his behavior would reflect on his family name so he didn’t keep an eye on his surroundings at all times.

(Regulus had learned to behave from a young age not allowing himself to be distracted in public. One could get kidnapped, or someone could take his words/actions out of content and risk the standing of the Blacks)

“Excuse me, Lord Black” The reporter called her voice carrying over the chatter of the bank.  Harry’s steps wavered, turning his head in her direction which was his first mistake. He practically gave her permission to speak to them. 

She jumped on the opportunity like a Niffer on gold. “I was wondering if I could ask a few questions.”

“Actually we don’t have time-”  His husband started

“Just a few questions. Won’t take too long.” She spoke over Harry, snapping her fingers. A Quick-Quote-Quill rose into the air on her parchment, ready to do its job. Harry eyed the quill with great dismay as if though he feared it. 

Regulus didn’t know why but he wasn’t about to let this woman bully his savior. For all of Harry’s oddness, and great lack of self-preservation he was a decent person and kind. Besides, the man was his husband now which meant he was in the House of Black, and no one attacked the House of Black. 

“No.” He steps in front of the shorter male effectively blocking him from view. “We are needed elsewhere and do not have time for questions.”

His gaze flickered to the Quill that was quickly writing, his eyes narrowing  “I will, of course, be confiscating what you have written about us as we did not give permission for you to cover us. We would not want to bring our lawyer into this would we?”

The woman’s lips pressed together. “Of course not Lord Black, of course not.” 

She handed them the piece of parchment and he promptly tore it in half, twisting on his heel to take the gapping Harry to a teller. He pretended not to notice the rest of the lobby that was staring at him, only half aware of a hand holding onto his arm.  

“That was cool” Harry whispered sounding slightly awe.  “That was really cool”

Regulus felt smug that he made this impossible man feel impressed by him....for a total of thirty minutes. Seeing as his husband managed to not only find but break the Hufflepuff cup by hissing at the dragon guarding the vault. The goblin had left them alone upon Regulus' request, under the guidance of showing his new partner the family vaults. 

As soon as the creature had left Harry snuck out to find what he was looking for. He came across the dragon who the Black thought was about to eat them alive until Harry started hissing and the thing had calm, letting them pass without so much as a twitch.

“You speak to dragons?!” He demands inside of Cousin Bellatrix’s vault.  

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harry says watching the cup scream as it burned with a classless wave of his hand as if dismissing all of the worries away. 

“I’m being ridiculous!?” Regulus repeats almost hysterical. “You speak to dragons! When were you thinking of telling me this!?”

Harry put out the spellfire and kicked the no useless metal away. “I wasn’t trying to hide it you know. Besides, I don’t speak to dragons, I speak to snakes which are close enough to get my point across.”

“You’re a Parselmouth?!”

Harry’s green eyes gleam in the shine of gold around them  “Is that a problem?”

Regulus thinks this man is going to make his heart stop early from stress but he managed to get his breathing under control only now realizing it was running wild. He’s going to lose his mind before the month was up he knew it. 

 “Of course not, I just rather know these things before you do them. It would be helpful to be included in whatever hair brain ideas you develop. Not go through these dramatic means, I could have gotten us into this vault without having to chance a dragon understanding what your point is!” he snaps

Harry blinks  “You could have? How?”

“Cousin Bellatrix isn’t married yet. She’s still a Black and by law, all Black vaults are within my right to enter as the Head.” Regulus huffs, then seeing the naked confusion on Harry’s face he sighs  “Do you not know anything about wizarding culture?”

“Not really.”

Regulus stares. Is...Is Harry a Mudblood? It would make sense of everyhting he’s learn about him but he’s too powerful to be a magic stealer...wasn’t he?

________________________________________________________________ 

The ride back to the front was a silent, Harry not one to make too much noise unless adress or in his friends presence and Regulus absentmindly carelessly the spot where the Dark Mark used to be. 

He hadn’t spoken since Harry admitted to not being well informed of the wizarding world as he should be. (The fact there were laws stopping people from reporting on him was one of them. If only he had known this back in fourth year.) 

He never knew silence could be this loud.

Harry wondered what was going on in his husband’s head. For the last three days, he’s been actively trying to remind himself that he went and done it. He’s gotten hitched without his friends or family. To a man, he barely knows, in a time where he doesn’t exist and while trying to take down Riddle all over again. 

What would Ron say if he saw him now?

Sighing Harry, tried to push that thought away because he’ll start to cry and he can’t afford that right now. 

Instead, he thinks about what Regulus said. Indeed, Harry hadn’t told him everything he planned on doing to beat Riddle once and for all, but that’s because he wasn’t overly sure he could. 

Yes, he trusted the other didn’t want to be a Death Eater anymore and had even gone through the very very painful Dark Mark removal but was that enough to spill everything that could end this war? No. 

On the other hand, if he had been aware Regulus could have gotten to the cup without a single problem. It made sense now why the curse that turns everything red hot hadn’t triggered this time around, the spell was meant to act against those that did not have permission to be there, and apparently, his new husband did have it. 

Would it be easier if he included him more in the plans? This is Regulus' time, he knows more about what to do, who to avoid and apparently knew his laws well enough to aid him. Plus, he is smart, maybe on par with Hermione and Harry knew he couldn’t have beaten old Voldy alone the last time. 

They climbed out of the cart, Regulus’ back straight and slightly tense in front of him. They were the same age right now, with Harry being only three months older (if one didn’t count the time travel) but the other beat him in hight. Not by much, maybe only a few inches at the most, but still make it hard to see over his shoulder. This is the first time he walks in front of Harry instead of beside him, and it makes his stomach twist with anxious uncertainty.

Harry thinks he’s upset about not being told of the plan still, and while logically he knows its a sound move, the green eye time traveler hates that he’s disappointed him. He’s always hated letting people down. 

Dumbledore made sure of that.

“Um, Regulus-”

“Well, well, well, fancy running into you here.” A voice cuts whatever he was going to say. Before him Regulus’ tense back coils further. “Heard you got yourself married, Reggie. Does Sirius know?”

“My brother has nothing to do with me, Potter.”  Regulus answers and Harry feels his breathing stop. Walking around his husband, he’s is meet with a man who looks nearly exactly like him.  

He comes face to face with James Potter.  Said Potter looks anything but friendly despite the smile curved on his lips. For a second, the green-eyed youth thinks about the James of Snape’s memories and realizes its that version of his father standing before him.

James’ hazel eyes were sharp, taking him in with nearly as much interest as Harry.

“Oh erm, hello,” Harry says awkwardly, heart-squeezing in his chest painfully. “I’m Harry-um-that is-I’m Harry Black. Pleasure.”

James doesn’t take the hand he holds out instead he runs his eyes up and down Harry before smirking. 

“Couldn’t take my rejection of your boyhood crush so you found someone who looks like me instead Reggie? Now, that’s just sad.”

Regulus face turns dark. Taking Harry’s hand he attempts to move around the older man. “Don’t flatter yourself, Potter. That was a boyhood mistake at most. If you excuse us, we have other places we need to be.”

“Is he pregnant?” James asks side-stepping into their path seemingly unwilling to let them go without saying his full piece.  “Tsk Tsk. One would expect a member of the pure and Slytherin House of Black to be more careful. Then again, rumors had it you were desperate enough to not care-”

Harry heard enough. He’s temper has never been the easiest to handle but his father- who he’s starting to see less and less as the lost dream of an orphan and more of an ass- just had to get and test his limits. He’s aware male wizards can produce offspring but it’s a rare and nearly impossible feat, not nearly as being a Parselmouth but close enough.  

There were enough times, however, that wizards did get accidentally pregnant to warn their children about. 

Ron had been the first one to realize Harry wasn’t aware of this fact and had dragged his best friend to a very awkward conversation with Arthur Weasley sometime around third year. 

His best friend knew due to Harry’s upbringing, this part of the magical world was a little out there for him to handle and hated when others presume he was the one to carry for those same reasons.  

Said best friend wasn’t here to realize Harry’s temper had snapped and thus couldn’t hold him back either. Which meant Harry was able to react without someone stopping him.

James stumbled back in shock and pain as Harry’s fist collided with his nose, his knuckles crushing the bone. “Shut your whore mouth! Don’t talk to Regulus like that!”

Before the other Potter could react, Harry had grabbed a stun Regulus and pushed him into the lobby. Thanks to the fact James had found them on the way to the carts the only people who had seen him punch the Potter Heir was the goblins who couldn’t care less.

Harry only slowed down long enough to thank the goblins- earning him some odd looks- and soon had them stream rolling out of the bank. In a second he’s  Apparition them back to his outer side of his tent.

Just as what he’s done was starting to catch up with him- He punched his dad! He cursed at him! He’s dad, who has been dead up until now and what does Harry do? Attack him!- Regulus lets out a wheezed laugh.

Harry turns around, eyes widening as the Black continues to laugh and laugh, eventually, his chuckles climbing in volume until he’s all but roaring.

This may be the first time I’ve ever heard him laugh Harry thinks slightly daze. A small blush crept onto his head and the beginning of something warm and fuzzy was being planted into his heart.

“Harry, that, was the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Regulus gasps when he finally able to control his chuckles to an appropriate level. “Merlin, you are by far the oddest wizard I have ever meet.”

Harry doesn’t know if that a compliment or not and chooses not to acknowledge it. “You had feelings for that ass?”

“Yes, though I regret it now” Regulus grimace his mood souring.  “He is best friends with my idiot older brother. When I was a boy I was unable to see how dislikeable he was. I feel great shame for my younger self.” 

Harry smiled  “We all make mistakes.”

“Yes. Some more than others.”  

Oh? There is a story there.  “I reckon he wasn’t the only one you regret having feelings for?”

“Don’t we all?” Regulus rolls his eyes.  “Snape wasn’t someone who enjoyed my misguided affection either-” 

Cutting himself off his husband seemed to be aware of how loose his tongue had become and instead snapped his mouth shut. He suddenly looked terrified, the panic in his eyes clear as day, studying Harry with horror. 

Harry had no idea why. Yes, Regulus could do so much better Severus Snape and gag, the man was his professor, but there wasn’t enough of a reason to look that scared of Harry’s opinion.

“I assure you my interest in the Half-blood were purely lust,” Regulus says suddenly.  “I wouldn’t lower the House of Black to impurity with actually flowery affections for someone who’s only half worthy.”

Oh. Oh.

Half worthy? Of course, Regulus had been a Death Eater, and unlike Draco, no one forced him to join now did they? 

All humor fell from Harry’s face. To think he was starting to like the guy to, to think he was considering letting him into more of the plan. The seed in his heart was crushed before it could bloom just as quickly as it had been planted from a laugh. 

 “You disgust me.” He spat turning on his heel, he made for the kitchen wishing there was a door for him to slam as childish as that was. 

“What?”

“Just so you know, the House of Black has lost its purity. I’m a Half-blood. I hope I’m worthy enough to have saved your life and marry you.”  

Silence rang behind him and Harry wished Ron was here all that more. His best mate would know what to do about the burning of his eyes and the pain in his chest. 

But he would never see Ron again, would he? Maybe a younger version of him but never his first and best friend. 

For the first time, he wished he hadn't broken the timeline

[randomfandomfamily]

Manic episode just hit and I needed to type all this out.

Anyway, Karmi’s relationship with Hiro infuriates me and Megan’s relationship with Hiro fills me with indecsribable joy.

Analysis ahead, might be kinda ranty, but here we go. And remember, this is just my opinion, y’all ship whoever you want.

Prepare yourselves, folks. If you’ve clicked the Keep Reading button, then you are in for a ride. Buckle up kiddos, because I am dissecting the ever-loving shit out of Karmi and Megan’s relationship with Hiro. There’s a TL;DR at the bottom if you don’t want to go through it all.

Karmi and her petty jealousy have been a source of torment for Hiro since the beginning of the series. And we could go back and forth about how they were both mean to each other, but you know what? When they first met, Hiro tried repeatedly to make things work with her, and she was still a total jerk, being dismissive, making assumptions, and openly insulting him for no reason at all.

Then Hiro covered for her about the project, even though he could have--and should have--told Granville what she had done. I thought for sure that would be a turning point for Karmi, but noooooo. Hiro was nice to her, even though she had been awful to him, and she still super bitchy. Nothing changed.

So yeah, Hiro lashes out at her sometimes. He’s an irritated fourteen year old dealing with a seventeen year old asshole (or sixteen? I’ve seen sixteen floating around, but I’m going with seventeen because that makes more sense timeline-wise) that no one seems to realize is a total asshole. I’d be mad too!

And y’all better not hit me with that, “aw, she just a misunderstood bapy with no social skills, she can’t help it” because she is not misunderstood or some sad uwu bean. Hiro acknowledged that they have a lot in common, and tried to be her friend, and she continuously pushed him away. Karmi had a shot at friendship, a real shot, and she decided ‘nah, i’m just gonna keep being a bitch’, so she gets no sympathy from me.

Hiro even comforted her when she was kicked out of Trengrove’s lecture (despite the fact that she had teased him about not being able to attend) and still, after all that, she’s nice only momentarily. And continues her rivalry with him.

Also, for those saying she was better in Season 2: Where? She was only civil towards Hiro halfway through Season 2 when she needed his help with her serum, and she was still bitchy about it. Like, what the hell Karmi? You came to him.

We’ve seen him start to argue with her, stop, compose himself, and continue in a calmer voice. He’s done it a couple of times. He’s willing to acknowledge that some fights aren’t worth the time and energy, and step back from them. Which is a level of maturity we have yet to see from Karmi, who a few years older than he is.

I’ll give her the ‘broke mind control to save Hiro thing’, but honestly? Not wanting a person to get hurt (or die), or not wanting to kill said person, is kinda the bare minimum of caring for another human being. Other than that, we have no real evidence that she ever really cared about him at all.

Had Karmi made an actual effort into not being so bitchy, I could have seen her and Hiro as friends. The could have been really good friends, actually. But she was just so insufferable all of the time. She could have great development, but she did not. All around, she’s a pretty two-dimensional character fueled by jealousy and competitiveness.

And then we have Megan who, from the get-go, is already a well developed character and, amazingly, isn’t bitchy for no reason!

When Megan teased Hiro about bragging, he kinda recoiled, stammering over his words. Karmi had accused him of thinking he was better than everyone else (”You think you’re some special white blood cell”), and now he’s afraid Megan might start thinking the same thing. So he apologizes because maybe it did come off as though he was bragging, even if he didn’t mean it that way.

Megan obviously doesn’t know  Karmi did to him, it’s possible she doesn’t even knowing anything about Karmi, but she can tell he was worried about it so she reassured him that she was just messing with him. She’s actually very patient with him in regards to his lack of social interaction. 

During their first meeting, Hiro--embarassed and running his hand through his hair--said that it was probably weird that he had his own robot friend (yet another thing Karmi had called him strange for) and sounded genuinely surprised when Megan said she thought it was cool.

Things Karmi said and did are still affecting Hiro, even into Season 2. That, combined with Hiro’s already limited social skills, means he has a hard time making friends. Megan is very patient with him in that regard. She’s willing to work through the awkwardness and the overbearing aunt, because Hiro is a person she genuinely likes and wants to hang out with.

And Hiro isn’t pushing her away either, like Karmi did to him (he sometimes had to deal with hero life, but he never really let that interfere with their relationship). He’s actively trying to be better at the whole ‘social interaction’ thing. Meaning their friendship--and possibly more than that--is based on putting in actual effort.

But after Megan found out that Hiro had been keeping his identity a secret from her, she was upset. Of course she was upset. That was her case! Her mission! And Hiro knew the whole time! You can’t expect her to just brush it off. I certainly would’ve needed an adjustment period.

Then she saw what Big Hero did for the city. How much they were risking. Hiro threw himself into an unstable portal over and over again trying to catch Sirque, even though that place is a literal nightmare for him. He could have been trapped in there, or seriously hurt, or maybe worse, but he still did it.

And after seeing the team in action, Megan realized that Hiro was right. The police didn’t have the tech or the knowledge to deal with this kind of stuff.

Hiro said that whatever Megan did with the information was her choice, and she chose to not only keep their secret, but write a whole article on why their identities needed to be kept secret. Her father is obviously not going to be happy about that, but she did it anyway. Because it was right. And also because Hiro is her friend.

TL;DR

---Karmi put no effort into being a nicer person and was only ever kind to Hiro when she needed his help or when they were in mortal danger. (having a two second heartfelt moment after being kicked out of a lecture does not count as being nice. that’s just not being bitchy for once.)

---Megan was kind right from the start, has developed a good relationship with Hiro, hit a rough patch, worked through it, realized Hiro was trying to do the right thing, and are still friends. (how their relationship will grow from here remains to be seen.)

---All in all, Megan and Hiro’s relationship has developed more in just a few episodes than Hiro and Karmi’s did in a season and a half.

Obviously, I don’t expect everyone to agree with me on this. In fact, I’m absolutely positive that there are going to be people who very much disagree with me on many levels. This is a very popular ship in the fandom, for some reason, and people are going to defend it. Because that’s what fandoms do.

And like, I’m not telling people to not ship Hiro and Karmi. I may not understand why you would ship them, but y’all can do whatever you want. Tone can be hard to interpret through a screen, but this isn’t meant to be an angry or aggressive post. I’m just making observations and expressing an opinion.

Needless to say, this isn’t gonna stop people from shipping them, and I don’t expect it to. I just wanted to throw this out there in case there were other people who agreed with me. I’ve been on the quiet side of fandoms before, the side where someone has an opinion about something, but never sees anyone agreeing with them on it, so they’re afraid to make their own post, and then it just never gets out there.

Welp. This is the post. The unpopular opinion, complete with a rant. Me am big kid and I’m making the post. Enjoy maybe, but probably not. Peace out, scouts!