#but he was raised communally he has never been in need of a mother figure that’s not something missing from his life

[pinkfey]

while i’m in an atla mood my big twenty-year-old shipping hot take is that zvtara would not nearly be as popular as it is now if zuko was the bald one and aang was the one with emo hair 🙈

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [10]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4.5k

Trigger Warnings: graphic violence/torture, gore, implied mutilation

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 9 | Fic Masterlist | Part 11

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Wooyoung called out, entering the general's study with Jongho following closely behind, having been summoned to the estate.

Seonghwa looked up from his desk, "Ah yes, I heard you turned down the bonus incentive we offered. Why is that? Is there something else that you wish to have?"

Having encountered few who would refuse extra money, your husband found it hard to comprehend the private investigator's decision. Most people around him were usually drawn by the allure of his wealth or other associated benefits, which left him curious about Wooyoung's motives for declining the bonus. Surely, there was something specific he desired.

The younger man beamed, "My lord, I wasn't working so willingly for you because I wanted something more from you. Honestly, nothing makes me happier than being recognised by you! I just... okay, maybe there is one thing I really want."

Raising his brow, the general was not surprised by the sudden admission, "Go on, name it then."

With a cheeky grin, the investigator replied, "It's that you allow me to help you with whatever problems you have now!"

Your husband rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "What do you mean? I have no problems now; the worst is over."

"Really? Is that why you're here sulking alone instead of being with Lady Park? You clearly want to be near her, and yet, here you are, staying away from her because you haven't a clue how to face her after the traumatising ordeal you put her through yesterday."

That finally piqued Seonghwa's attention, prompting him to sit up straighter, though he attempted to maintain a nonchalant demeanour, "H-how did you figure that out?"

Without waiting for Wooyoung's response, he shook his head, "No, wait, actually, I don't want to know that. Just tell me... what should I do? I realise I haven't considered well enough what she went through, but I... I've never had to care for someone like this before, and I'm not really sure how to..."

The investigator offered an understanding smile, "My lord, the key to any relationship is communication. You need to talk to Lady Park. Ask her how she's feeling, and tell her you're sorry for what she went through. Avoiding each other won't solve anything; it will only create more distance between you two. You're her pillar of support now, and she needs to feel that you're there for her. You both deserve happiness, but it starts with open and honest communication."

Absorbing the advice, the general nodded thoughtfully, "You're right, Wooyoung. I appreciate your straightforwardness. I'll go talk to her and make things right."

Without hesitating, he sprang from his chair and made his way out of the study. The assistant and his friend couldn't contain their laughter, covering their mouths with their hands, but quickly composed themselves when Seonghwa glanced back at them, "Oh, and please, accept the bonus. You deserve it, especially after this."

Before Wooyoung could object, he had already exited the room and was rushing down the path toward the House of Lotus, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing his wife again.

He remembered how quiet you had been during the entire journey back home the day before, your gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. While you weren't overtly distant or cold to him, you seemed lost in thought throughout dinner. You excused yourself early, retiring to your quarters. The atmosphere carried an unspoken tension, making him hesitant to say anything for fear of your potential reaction.

Reflecting on it, he realised he should have assured you that things would be better from that point forward. Rather than maintaining a facade of normalcy, he regretted not breaking the silence and being there for you in that moment of unease.

His steps hesitated, and his breath deepened as you finally appeared in his line of sight, seated alone in the pavilion outside your room. Your lady etiquette books lay open beside you, but the faraway look in your eyes remained glued to the horizon beyond the lotus pond. For a moment, he stood there, appreciating your beauty, suddenly feeling thankful you looked nothing like your father.

However, as soon as you turned your head slightly and noticed him standing by the entrance, he blinked rapidly, feeling flustered. Gathering his courage, he took a deep breath and approached you.

Just go talk to her, you fool.

Seeing him approach, you closed the books and made room for him to sit in the small pavilion. He offered a warm smile, "Hey, I hope I'm not bothering you or anything."

Shaking your head, you returned a small smile, "No, not at all. I tried to study, but I just... I couldn't."

As he settled down beside you, reaching for your hand, you didn't flinch or pull away. He released a relieved breath and moved closer, "It's alright, you don't have to force yourself. I know you're probably upset with me. I... I'm sorry, my dear."

Lifting your head to meet his eyes, you furrowed your brows, "What? Why would I be upset with you?"

He winced, wondering if you were intentionally testing him to see if he knew what he did wrong. But then again, he knew you would never do anything like that. Sighing, he admitted, "Look, I know I should've thought things through better yesterday. I was so focused on wanting to punish your family for what they did, I forgot about how horrible it must have been for you to go back there and sit through all of that."

"I acknowledge it was a mistake. My intention was to give you a chance to confront your family by taking you to your old room. I didn't think it would affect you so badly. I realise now that it was a misguided decision, and I regret taking you back to that place. I'm a goddamned idiot."

His admission tugged at your heart, and you responded by placing a comforting hand over his.

"Seonghwa, you're not an idiot. I'm not upset with you," You assured him, "I've been quiet since the visit because I'm still processing the fact that my own father killed my mother. All this time, I believed she died from sickness. Now, I can't help but wonder how different my life would have been if only she were still alive. He took her away from me just like that, and for what? All for his own selfish reasons..."

"I just... I feel so—" Tears welled up in your eyes, and your voice broke, "I-I'm sorry..." You pulled your hands away from him, attempting to wipe your eyes, but he gently grasped your shoulders and turned you to face him.

"No, you need to stop apologising. You have every right to be sad, and I'm here to tell you that you never have to endure any more of the pain you're going through alone. I'm here for you, okay? From now on, I want you to lean on me whenever things get too unbearable. Can you do that?"

Feeling the genuine warmth in Seonghwa's tone and seeing the unmistakable care in his eyes, you finally broke down. The weight of the revelations, the pain of your father's actions, and the years of emotional torment spilt over, and you couldn't hold back your tears any longer. He pulled you close, cradling you in his arms as you sobbed against his shoulder.

Whispering comforting words into your ear, he pressed gentle kisses onto the top of your head. His touch was a soothing balm, providing the comfort and support you desperately needed in that moment. As you let out your emotions, he held you tighter.

The sound of your heart-wrenching cries only caused an uncomfortable squeeze in his heart. The general had never experienced this kind of ache before. Throughout his life, he had always believed that no one had a tougher life than he did. But then you came along, with your fragile form, managing to shake his entire world and alter his perspectives on life. All of a sudden, the notion of having someone to protect and care for didn't seem so repulsive, especially when it was you.

You slowly pulled back, staring up at him through your wet lashes, and offered a grateful smile, "Seonghwa, I want to thank you for doing all this for me. I never imagined someone caring enough to go through all that trouble. I promise, in return, I'll try my hardest to be a worthy wife for you."

He wiped away your tears tenderly and gazed into your eyes, "You don't need to prove anything, my love. You're already perfect, just as you are."

Your heart raced, and your eyes widened as you stuttered, "W-wait, what... what did you just call me?"

He stilled, realising the words that had slipped from his mouth before he softened. Leaning close, he pressed his forehead against yours, "My love."

Seonghwa's presence became almost intoxicating. Feeling him so close, as if with a mind of its own, your eyes slowly fluttered closed. He took that as permission to lean in further, and after what felt like an eternity, his lips touched yours in a soft and tentative kiss. When you didn't push him away, he bravely angled his head before pressing his lips firmly against yours.

Finally, our first kiss.

Pulling away after a while to catch your breath, you bit your lip shyly, "I-I'm sorry if I wasn't—"

He shook his head, "Don't worry, it's my first time kissing someone too," He admitted, struggling to take his eyes off your swollen lips. A soft smile played on his lips as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, "Can I..." He asked with half-lidded eyes, and you nodded breathlessly.

Without wasting another moment, he captured your lips in another loving kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of each other's presence. His touch was gentle yet filled with a depth of emotion. As the kiss deepened, you felt a rush of emotions, a mix of vulnerability and passion.

Feeling the need for air, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes met, and you could see the affection and sincerity in his gaze, "You're perfect." He whispered, his voice filled with tenderness, realising that kissing you might just be his new favourite thing to do from now onwards. The moment lingered, the air charged with newfound emotions. It was a beginning, a sweet promise of the love that had blossomed between you.

"Your Majesty, please—"

The King slammed his fists against the handle of his throne, causing the minister to gasp and lower his head. He shook like a leaf, awaiting his impending doom as the ruler declared, "I don't want to hear another word from you, Jang. You're a bloody disappointment. Actually, you're worse than that, you monster."

Kneeling beside your father were your stepmother and stepsisters, equally trembling. Pathetic tears rolled down their cheeks as they attempted to put on a pity show, hoping to move His Majesty's heart. However, their efforts did little to appease his rage. He scoffed in disbelief at their audacity to cry, considering all the despicable things they had done to you and your mother.

This marked the first time the four women had set foot in the palace, and little did they anticipate it would be under such circumstances. The visit might also be their only time here, as the imminent judgement from the King would decide their fate.

Seonghwa stood in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, an amused expression on his face. He left home that morning after a lingering kiss on your lips, feeling rejuvenated and determined. Choosing not to burden you with the details of today's assembly, he shielded you from further thoughts about your family.

Don't worry, my love. I'll make sure they suffer a punishment worse than death.

"I can't stand to look at you imbeciles for another moment longer. Let's get this over with already. Royal Secretary Choi, would you be so kind as to enlighten us with all of Minister Jang's crimes and his punishments?" said the King.

Stepping forward from his corner next to the throne, San bowed, "As you wish, Your Majesty," Tugging open the scroll in his hands, he began reading out loud, "Minister Jang has committed a total of five crimes. First, he committed adultery voluntarily, and for that, he will be whipped with eighty lashes. Second, he committed the crime of official document forgery, and for that, he will be whipped an additional twenty lashes."

Dread filled the minister as he gulped, anxiously listening to the secretary move on to the next section, "Third, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of his own daughter, an innocent citizen, he will be flogged thirty times. Next, for violating the code of ethics as a minister, which is to be a law-abiding citizen, he will be stripped of his title and flogged another twenty times."

As your father's hands trembled, he attempted to hold himself up by pressing his sweaty palms against the floor, breathing heavily as he awaited the final and most severe punishment. San continued, "And finally, for the murder of his first wife, an innocent citizen, he will be sentenced to permanent exile."

That's... it?

Feeling a sliver of hope, the old man let out a small sigh of relief. At least it wasn't death by beheading or arsenic poisoning as he had feared. Banishment seemed acceptable; he supposed he could still live a quiet life somewhere away from here. Bowing deeply, he cried, "Thank you, Your Majesty! Your grace is immeasurable!"

All the ministers and officials present quickly stole glances at Seonghwa, wondering if he would throw a fit and object to the punishment that was yet to be the heaviest one. However, they failed to discern his feelings, as there was only an unreadable smirk on his handsome face.

Lady Jang and her daughters trembled as they awaited their turn. With a nod from the King, the secretary continued, "Moving on, Lady Jang has committed a total of four crimes. First, she voluntarily committed adultery, and for that, she will be whipped eighty lashes. Second, she committed the crime of official document forgery, and for that, she will be whipped an additional twenty lashes."

She nodded to herself, seemingly already accepting her fate, as she listened, "Third, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of the minister's eldest daughter, an innocent citizen, she will be flogged thirty times. And finally, for being an accomplice to the murder of the first Lady Jang, she will be sentenced to penal servitude for life."

Her eyes shot up immediately, finding it hard to accept that she would be separated from her husband. She had believed she, too, would be exiled along with him. But she quickly lowered her gaze as soon as she saw the glare the King had directed at her, as if daring her to complain about it.

Oh god, my life is over...

Noticing the King's patience wearing thin, San quickly concluded with the final sentencing, "Lastly, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of the minister's eldest daughter, an innocent citizen, the three young misses of the Jang family will be flogged thirty times each and sentenced to penal servitude for a total of thirty years."

All three of the sisters' jaws fell slack at their punishment. After living luxurious lives like spoiled brats for so long, they were now expected to be servants, performing hard labour for three decades. All their dreams of getting married and leading comfortable lives were shattered. The prospect of finding suitors after serving their sentences seemed bleak. Their lives were forever ruined, and things would never be the same.

"Now that that's settled, remove these individuals from my sight, and see to it that they receive their physical punishments by today. I don't want their presence contaminating my palace walls any longer than necessary. Moving on to the next agenda, let us discuss who will stand in as the interim Minister of Military Affairs until we elect a new one." The ruler grumbled, waving his hands dismissively.

Seonghwa grinned smugly, relishing the way your father's face fell as he absorbed His Majesty's words. The King fully intended to drive the point home, reminding him that, no matter how much he believed he contributed to the nation, he, too, was just as disposable. Consider it emotional torment for further punishment, if you will.

As the members of the Jang family were forcefully pulled to their feet and guided toward the palace torture chamber where all punishments for criminals were administered, the general bowed deeply, "Your Majesty, forgive this humble subject for not feeling too well. Would it be possible for me to excuse myself from the remainder of today's assembly?"

With a knowing glint in his eyes, the King nodded, "Of course, my boy. Nothing matters more than your well-being. I'll have Royal Secretary Choi send you the minutes of today's meeting later on."

All eyes were fixed on your husband as he confidently exited the hall, wearing an excessively pleased expression, looking a little too content to be feeling unwell as he had claimed. It became evident to everyone that he was plotting something, a scheme that even His Majesty was privy to and had tacitly approved.

"P-please, have mercy!"

Screams reverberated within the dim and eerie confines of the torture chamber, a place the general once frequented during his duties of interrogating spies, war criminals, and suspicious individuals to maintain peace within the nation.

The familiar sounds of your family's agonising cries filled his ears, and he couldn't suppress the chuckle that escaped his lips as he entered, "Ah yes, music to my ears."

Upon his arrival, all the royal guards present swiftly bowed deeply and greeted Seonghwa with respect, "Good day, General Park!" They dared not continue until he gave them a nod, "Go on, don't let me stop you. I'm only here to enjoy the show."

"Yes, sir!" They chanted in unison. To many young soldiers and palace guards, he was akin to a god, an embodiment of success they aspired to achieve one day. Therefore, his mere presence motivated them to perform their duties with increased ruthlessness and precision.

Taking a seat in the centre of the room, your husband bit his lip with a smug expression, locking eyes with your father whose gaze reflected anguish. The elderly man lay face down on a wooden table, enduring lash after lash on his already bloody and battered back. His painful ordeal was far from over.

Whimpering, your father pleaded, "S-Seonghwa, I'm s-still your father-in-law! Please, at least show a little mercy to your wife's father!" Beside him, his wife nodded pathetically, sharing the same painful fate. Meanwhile, the three daughters stood frozen in a corner, wrists cuffed, awaiting their turn to face their beatings.

A devilish laughter escaped the general as he shot a menacing glare at the former minister, "Oh, I'm sorry, was that supposed to make things any better? I would show you mercy if only you had shown my wife any. You shouldn't have said anything, you fool," Turning to the guard in charge of whipping your father, your husband ordered, "Not hard enough, soldier. I want to see his skin tear."

"Yes, sir!" Striking with increased force, the lashes landed on the old man's back, inflicting wounds that would take months to heal. The continuous shrieks of pain only served to widen the smile on Seonghwa's face, "And to think you were thanking His Majesty for his grace; you've underestimated the severity of being whipped, haven't you? Did you really think you were going to walk out of here with a small bruise? Dream on."

"Oh, I can't wait for all of you to experience the wonders of flogging! It will be delightful, a punishment perfectly suited for your kind." The general sang, eyeing the three girls slyly.

They cowered under his intense gaze, suddenly regretting every action they took on the day of your visit. Perhaps if they hadn't attempted any of those, they might have gotten away with a lighter sentence. But there was no point dwelling on such thoughts now.

"Father! Mother!" The girls cried, witnessing their parents only now completing the first half of their punishment. Before they could continue their wailing, guards approached them, saying, "Quiet down! Worry about yourselves instead; it's your turn."

The former minister and his wife looked practically lifeless by the time the guards were finished with their hundred lashes each. The skin on their backs was completely torn open, blood gushing out relentlessly. They were nearly unconscious by the time the guards moved them to separate poles, where they would be beaten with a heavy stick all over their bodies.

Letting out a small yawn, Seonghwa signalled for them to prepare for the flogging. This would be entertaining to witness; most criminals barely survived this punishment by the time it concluded. He would relish the idea of them being left in critical conditions.

"Enjoy yourselves! Thirty times each for what you've all done to my wife – just the perfect amount to leave you halfway to hell. Don't worry; you'll wish you were dead by the end of this. But rest assured, we will keep you alive," Your husband exclaimed with a clap of his hands, "Now, I want you to think of all the things you've done to my wife as you endure this. Can we all do that?"

In the ensuing silence, the guards approached each family member, forcefully striking them with the heavy sticks in their hands. With just one hit, all of them began howling in pain, "Answer the general! Can you all do as you are told?!"

"Y-yes! Yes!" All five of them sobbed miserably, and the general beamed, "Fantastic! Now, let the official flogging begin! The first one does not count, alright? Consider it warm up!"

The insanity in his eyes was genuinely terrifying, and your family was once again reminded of his reputation. Suddenly, it all made sense. This was how it felt to be a victim of his cruelty. They never should have sent you to him; that was their biggest mistake, and nothing they do or say could ever change that now.

"Yes, sir!"

And so it began, the screams that now filled the room were even more piercing than the ones during the first round of whipping.

Approaching each family member one by one, Seonghwa smirked, "Remember all the times you starved her?" Jinjoo nodded in between shrieks, "Good. And you, recall all the times you insulted her and made her feel small?" Jinhee repeated her sister's actions, nodding furiously, "Very good. And you, remember all the times you did something wrong and blamed it on her so that she would take your punishments for you?"

Jinah cried, tears and snot running down her sweaty face, "I'm sorry!" He shook his head, "Will saying a useless sorry change anything? Nope. Hit her harder, soldier," With a grin of approval, he moved on to your stepmother, "And you, recall all the times you kept her locked up in that prison cell you call her room?" Not wanting to suffer like her eldest, she nodded aggressively, "Good."

Finally stopping in front of your father, he crossed his arms over his chest, "And you, remember all the times you laid your hands on her? Your own daughter?" The former minister nodded quickly but was not spared, "Good, hit him even harder so he never forgets how it feels."

"Twenty-nine, thirty." The beatings stopped for the four women, and they collapsed one by one onto the floor like rag dolls. Blood trickled from their noses and the corners of their lips, their bodies covered in countless bruises and open wounds, soaking their clothes red. And that is only what can be seen on the outside; who knew what fatal internal injuries they could be suffering from.

With his hands propped on his hips, Seonghwa took in the sight with satisfaction, "Very well, some of these scars should last you for life. Now, you look as bad as the way you'd left my wife. Actually, worse. But that's good. I'm very happy with the outcome. Guards, take them away and make sure to send them to places where they're known to treat their servants poorly."

The girls sobbed upon hearing that, "General, please, have mercy! We've already suffered enough!" Your husband scoffed, "Mercy? Have you not been paying attention this entire time? I'm not known for that. Get them out of my sight."

As the guards dragged the wailing women out, they cried for their husband and father. The former minister yelled, still taking his twenty additional beatings as he watched his wife and daughters go, "W-will you not at least let me say my final goodbyes to them?"

"Minister, please don't make me laugh. Did you also allow my wife and her poor mother a final goodbye?" The old man had nothing to say at that, grunts of pain escaping his lips as he tried to endure the remainder of his punishment despite feeling like all of his insides had been beaten to mush at this point. He didn't have to look down to know that he was soaked in blood; he could feel the sting on his wounds whenever the slightest bit of wind blew past.

Just a bit more, and I'm free.

« Preview of Part 11 »

"Forty-nine, fifty." Your father sighed in relief when the punishment finally ceased. Collapsing to the ground upon being untied, he stared blankly ahead, feeling pain throughout his entire body. Slowly but surely, he slipped into unconsciousness due to the loss of blood.

Unfortunately, his respite was short-lived. A bucket of dirty water was abruptly dumped over him, causing him to scream in agony as the injuries on his body stung intensely, bringing tears to his eyes.

"Did you think it was over?" His blood ran cold as he noticed he was now tied to a chair, unable to move. With most of the guards gone, only him and Seonghwa remained.

"What do you think you're doing, general? I've completed all my physical punishments; you're supposed to banish me now!" The old man croaked, his eyes widening in fear as he noticed the dagger in your husband's hand.

The general burst into laughter, "Oh, minister, you can be quite slow at times. Did you genuinely believe that His Majesty's decision not to sentence you to death was an act of kindness? Who do you think requested your exile?"

"Y-you—"

Seonghwa smirked, "Indeed, it was me. Killing you would have been too merciful. No, I want you to endure a life so filled with pain that you wish for death every single day. Now, after seeing how skilled you were at begging all day, I believe you'd make a very talented beggar. Do you know what would make you a successful beggar?"

Tears streaming down his face, your father shook his head hopelessly as your husband traced the blade against his skin before whispering, "One without limbs."

That was the most violence I have ever written HAHA I had to channel my inner Joker for Seonghwa's character. Anyway, I hope that was satisfying enough!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[prickly-paprikash]

Since the discourse has reared its ugly head once more, the simple answer is no.

Aang was not a deadbeat, unsupportive, absentee father.

He loved all three of his children and was supportive of them. When Kya came out in the comics, she mentioned straight up that Aang was nothing but supportive of her and who she was. Aang made mistakes in parenting, but he was also stuck in one of the worst situations possible for him.

For one thing, it's been stated that Airbending culture has different views when it comes to family dynamics. Never once does Aang mention his parents, and it's clear that Air Nomads did not put emphasis on the standard nuclear family organization that other nations did. From context clues alone, and many have inferred in the past that Air Nomads were communal, so it stands to reason that their parenting was communal. Monks, Nuns, Masters—all of them were most likely parents to every single child. The responsibility of raising and educating a child was shared amongst the nomads, and that there was no real difference between biological and adoptive parents. Airbenders shared nearly everything, and that meant family as well.

Imagine you're Aang, spending twelve years of life being raised by every adult in the temple. Sure, he was exposed to nuclear family dynamics when visiting other nations and befriending Bumi and Kuzon, but his exposure to their culture was most likely limited. Now, not only is he a father to three beautiful children, but he must raise them in a way foreign to him. There are no other Monks to raise his children—it's just him and Katara. I've no doubt that Sokka and Toph chipped in whenever they could to ease the burden of parenthood, but they were leaders and figures of great importance as well. Not to mention that Toph had her own daughters to take care of.

Aang is also the Avatar, the central spiritual figure amongst the four nations. His presence would always be demanded in other nations. Peace Summits. Negotiations. Ceremony. Dealing with splintered Fire Nation cells and loyalists. Aang had to lead the people of all four nations back into balance, and he was in the unique and unenviable position to heal the scars of a 100 year war due to the absence of the Avatar.

Finally, the dude is also the Very Last Airbender. Of course he'd show favoritism to Tenzin. Bumi was a non-bender and Kya was a waterbender already taking after her mother. Aang was a war hero, a political figure, a man out of time and history, the Avatar, and the Only Living Airbender. The weight of his culture and people all rested on his shoulders, and so he passed on that responsibility and hope to the only other living Airbender at the time. Aang needed to spend time with Tenzin because only through Tenzin could the practices of the Air Nomads survive.

Aang was basically having to transition from a communal family mindset to a nuclear family's; he had to balance romance, fatherhood, and being the Avatar in a Wartorn World; and he had an obligation to every Airbender in history—millions of souls and their memories, passed on from one very flawed father to his newborn son. Every part of Aang's life as a father was met with trials and tribulations, and his family still came out loving him, albeit with some resentment underneath.

No parent is perfect, and Aang could have done so much better when it came to communicating with his children.

But none of his mistakes ever meant he was an abusive, cold, distant father.

He was overworked, acclimating to a style of family not his own, and desperately reviving a century-long dead culture all by himself. The fact that every single one of his kids still loved him and cherished him only solidified the fact that Aang was a father who did his very best.

Being the child of the Avatar would always mean living in his shadow. That resentment, of Aang being needed by the world while his children sought him out, would always be there. Doubly so for Tenzin, who grew up with the Avatar as his father and continued his life-long work of breathing life back into the Air Nomads. Say what you will, but at least Bumi and Kya had the freedom to choose who they wanted to be. Tenzin, no matter what, would always grow up to be the Airbending Master because no one else could.

Aang loved his children. Aang loved his wife. And they in turn loved him. But just like every family, complications rose up and planted the seeds of bitterness and resentment. The only thing that stopped these from blossoming into actual dislike of their family was that Aang's love and respect for his children was always genuine, and that Katara stood firm in making sure their children knew they were beloved.

Aang and Katara's family would never have been ideal in the first place, but they did their best.

And their best was certainly enough.

[lucid-loves]

First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 2

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.4k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, eventual smut, virgin reader

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: You and Ghost have grown more comfortable with each other as both of you got used to a new routine. However, a sudden party announcement along with a marriage proposal from a new bachelor drives the both of you to become even closer.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5

It’s been a couple weeks since Ghost was introduced to you as your new bodyguard. The first few days were rough as Ghost spent most of his time understanding the palace layout and your daily schedules. Once he got more familiar with the entire place, though, he was much more relaxed. He got used to following close behind you all while understanding where to go if things went south. He took his job of protecting you very seriously, especially after getting to know you little by little.

You settled into the new addition to your routine nicely. While it was awkward trying to figure out what to talk about around bedtime, you always ended up finding something to open up about. Ghost always listened carefully.

At the end of the day, you both still managed to keep your distance. Besides the occasional stolen glances, the both of you were good about maintaining some professionalism. Even during tea time when he would accept your offer to sit with you. You normally didn’t speak about anything too specific since you didn’t want to get in trouble, so most of that time was enjoyed in complete silence. Ghost never minded. He understood that you had to be selective with your words. Sometimes, he admired how seriously you took your responsibilities as well.

It was a rainy day when you were given a revised schedule to follow for the next few days, one that had you raise your brows as soon as you saw how even more unusually packed it was. Your independent study time was scrapped. You didn’t have to attend piano lessons anymore either. Instead, they were replaced with etiquette-type classes. Table setting, conversation practice, ballroom dancing. Everything pointed to the preparation of a party.

As you looked over your schedule, the room was silent save for the patter of rain against the glass. Thunder lightly rumbled in the distance. Your mother sat across from you, giving you time to drink it all in. Ghost stood behind you near the shadows, watching everything unfold.

When you were done comprehending your schedule, you looked up at your mother inquisitively. “What is the occasion?”

“There is a gentleman that we have been communicating with who has recently entered the country for a trip abroad. He is an exceptional bachelor with the money and status to support a proper lifestyle. He sent an invitation for tea with us, but we figured that an important man like him needed a more memorable experience in Stuoca.” Your mother cheerfully explained, clearly excited for this party. She sipped her tea, proud of herself for orchestrating such an event to happen.

You picked up your favorite teacup and gripped it firmly. The warmth of the tea passing the porcelain and into your palms provided you comfort as your head swirled. Your mother wasn’t explicit in her intentions of this party and it bothered you. Reading into her words, you knew what she intended for you, though.

“You are marrying me off.” You revealed, your eyes widening at your little slip. You meant to choose better words, but perhaps you were growing too bitter to think straight. Ghost, who was listening intently, was now fully at attention like he was called by his captain. 

At first, he listened for information. An outside party needed to be investigated in order to keep you safe. He didn’t pick up on what your mother was implying in the midst of it. When you exposed this truth, that’s when he grew rigid. 

“Come now, you shouldn’t say it like that. We are securing your future. If you want to maintain the life that you have, then it would be good to marry. Besides, you are not getting any younger.” The queen jabbed with a bright smile. Her implicit insult stung. 

Your mother was always like this. She was even more subtle in front of your father, so this was actually rather explicit of her. You had to bite your tongue to avoid letting your bitterness seep out once more. “My apologies. I am just surprised that this is happening so quickly.”

Her gaze sharpened as she graded your sincerity. It wasn’t like you had lied, but you avoided telling the full truth on how you felt. Your mother scoffed as you failed to exchange more grateful words with her. “This is for the best. You should be appreciative of this effort. Most women your age have to search for their security all by themselves. They rarely find the perfect one on the first try too. You're lucky that you won’t have to go through the pain of that.”

You bit your cheek hard to avoid an outburst, a metallic taste on your tastebuds. You didn’t say anything as your mother got up and left the room, allowing you to finish your teatime all by yourself. This was her idea of a punishment. If you couldn’t be grateful for her time, then she would give you only a little of her time. Little did she know that you preferred it when she gave you none of her time at all.

As soon as the door was completely closed and her heels clicked further down the hall, you buried your face in your hands. You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or break the throw the expensive teapot out of the window. The stinging in your chest grew to a malicious weight, making you feel like you were drowning. You already had so little control of your life. Now you were expected to give up your life to a man you didn’t know. 

“Princess?” A deep yet soft voice called out. You looked up only to find Ghost sitting on the couch across from you. Lightning flashed from the window followed by a bellowing rumble. Your breath caught in your throat as he looked at you with a patient gaze. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. 

Actually, he knew exactly what he wanted to say. He wanted to go up to your mother and rip her a new one. It wasn’t like you were withering away from old age like your mother seemed to think. You were young, intelligent, skilled. For someone that dedicated your schedule on a regular basis, she sure didn’t know a thing about you. From what Ghost had seen from you in the past two weeks, you were very much capable of handling yourself or learning quickly how to.

Ghost could say a million things. The problem was that none of those words may be the right words you needed. Your world was different from his and he was still trying to figure it out. Saying what he wanted to say from his perspective may not have been appropriate or helpful to you.

Finally, you spoke up. Your tone was quiet and grave. “My apologies that you had to overhear that conversation. I shouldn’t be surprised that my parents are ready for me to marry. I just never expected that I would be the one having to do the impressing.”

You were right. Why should you be the one having to dance for this stranger? It should be him that should be trying to impress you. Ghost poured himself some tea, thinking about how backwards this all seemed. “You don’t know anything about this man, right? Your parents have never mentioned him before today?”

“No. They don’t usually say anything to me until events are just around the corner. I don’t have much of a social life outside of the palace walls either, so there wouldn’t be any way for me to really know this bachelor’s true character.” You began thinking more clearly, Ghost’s questions actually helping you approach this much more tactfully. It was like he was helping you come up with a plan. 

“You don’t want to marry this guy or just in general?” He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. It was a rather personal question, one that would have to be kept secret between the both of you. 

You paused, thinking about his question very carefully. Once again, he was trying to get to know how you really felt about things. Ghost seemed to be the only one in the palace that genuinely wanted to know what you thought. After a sip of warm, slightly sweet tea, you gave him your truth. 

A truth that a princess would give too. “I want to marry who I choose and I would choose out of love. I refuse to marry someone that I do not love. This potential bachelor. . . who is to say that I would not fall in love with him the moment I lay my eyes on him? Though, I do doubt this. I am unsure if I could trust his potential personality if the only people who could vouch for him are my parents. Their values in a partner may not reflect my own.”

Ghost has been getting better at deciphering your cryptic princess language. From what he understood, you didn’t reject the idea of marriage. You just wanted it to be out of your own choice of love. A reasonable answer. A bit romantic too. Like a true princess, you believed that love at first sight was possible. Ghost didn’t think he could agree with that. Though, your hint at valuing certain characteristics in a potential spouse piqued his interest in a way he couldn’t explain. “What do you value?”

For a moment, you looked out the window, another flash of lightning illuminating the rainy gray outside. As the light hit your features for a brief moment, Ghost felt his heart skip a beat. Now, you were giving a daydreaming, sweet smile. “I value courage, ambition, and openly high morals. Someone that isn’t afraid of pursuing their passions, satiating their curiosities appropriately, and standing up for what is right. Someone that I could grow alongside with their complete support. Someone that would not only see me as a lover, but as my own person too.”

He couldn’t help but feel his face grow a little warm as you described your ideal man. Though he couldn’t say he checked off all of those boxes, a part of him did feel like you were describing someone like him, even if you didn’t know it. At the very least, you obviously wanted someone that could put their money where their mouth was. Someone with bark and bite.

Not that he would actively pursue you. He lightly shook his head while you weren’t looking, ridding his thoughts of the idea of him being the perfect man for you. “It sounds like you know what you want.”

Those words gave you courage for some reason. Confidence. It surprised you to be filled with such confidence from that simple sentence alone. You looked towards Ghost, your breath hitching slightly as he stared at you with those blue eyes of his. “Yes, I do know what I want.”

“I’ll help you however I can, then. I’m going to run background checks on this guy. Checks on everyone that received an invite as well. I’ll make sure that you are only present at the party for strictly one hour. I still have my job to protect you, after all.” He promised you. If you couldn’t speak up against your parents due to decorum, then hopefully this would give you what you need to fight back instead.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Ghost. I truly do appreciate it.” You gratefully beamed. Who knew that when you were given a bodyguard that you would be given a friend as well.

~

The next few days were busy. While Ghost followed you around to your now tighter classes, he was also doing background checks on every single person that your parents sent an invite out to. Which was a lot. Jesus, when he saw the list of people he wanted to smack them both. It was incredibly dangerous for them to have so many people at the palace at once considering the threats against them and their daughter. It became clear that your parents were more concerned about protecting their public image or parading you around like a doll than about your true safety. 

You felt that classes were a little easier to handle with Ghost being so focused on his laptop. Normally, he would be watching you carry on with your classes. Now that he was preoccupied with his own work, you felt less like you were giving a performance and like you were genuinely learning. Though, you did wish that he would look at you once you were finished with a successful new dance. For some reason, you craved some of his attention now that you had less of it.

Nights were different as well. While you had grown accustomed to talking yourself to sleep with Ghost listening to your every word, he had to focus on getting all the background checks complete. He also took it upon himself to tighten up some security detail. He was extremely busy making sure that you were safe, so it was hard to be upset with him. Yet, you still felt a bit lonely.

One night, you just couldn’t sleep. You laid awake for hours, trying to drift off to dreamland to no avail. Part of it was nerves over the upcoming party. Part of it was fear of being assassinated or kidnapped. Part of it was bundles of creative energy that needed to be released. You usually got it out of your system during independent study or piano, but now that it was gone for now, your fingers were itching to do something you wanted to do.

Quietly, you sat up in bed, listening carefully outside the door. You knew that Ghost usually spent his time guarding you out there. You wondered if he was still there or borrowing an office somewhere to complete his work. Either way, you wanted to be a little sneaky with or without him.

You opened the bedroom door a smidge, looking along the hallways to see if Ghost or anyone was up and around. Moonlight shined through the large windows, illuminating the halls brightly in a white light. You stepped out, now seeing Ghost situated at a small oak desk that was placed out in the hall for him right outside the door. His attention was already on you, having noticed the small opening of the door. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I have too much energy.” You explained briefly, fearful that he may tell you to go back into your room. Thankfully, he seemed to understand.

“You usually sneak out in the middle of the night?” He teased, catching you off guard. You didn’t realize that Ghost could have such a playful tone.

“Sometimes, yes.” You answered honestly. Ghost was a little surprised by your answer. You were more defiant than you usually looked. Sneaking banned books, sneaking out of your bedroom at night. Not that you were doing anything bad. You just did what you could to explore your true interests. 

Ghost closed his laptop and picked it up, ready to follow you to wherever you wished to go. “Where to then?”

Swiftly, you led him to a far part of the palace, a room that was far from your parent’s wing. Without alerting any palace staff, the both of you snuck into the room. In the middle of the room was a pure white grand piano. There were some shelves lined with books about music along with piano sheet music. There was a couch with a table as well, which would allow Ghost to continue working while you tired yourself out. 

As you situated yourself in front of the piano, the lieutenant got himself all set up on the couch. For some reason, you were calm. Comfortable. You thought that you would be nervous with Ghost being your audience once more, but that wasn’t the case. In fact, you have never felt more secure than you did then. Even as you had the chance to play the music that you weren’t normally allowed to play.

You started up with warm-ups. Simple scales, listening to the tune of the piano. Feeling the weight of the pedals under your feet along with the weight of the keys under your fingertips. Ghost has grown familiar with that scale. He didn’t have any particular musical talent, yet he still appreciated it. The classics and simple songs you played were good.

As Ghost worked to the sound of your playing, the both of you fell into a comfortable groove. With your playing, Ghost felt more efficient in his work. You felt more confident in your abilities. Along with this, you began to branch out a little more, practicing classical songs that you were familiar with.

However, you played them. Truly. Not how your instructors guided you to play or how the sheet music dictated. No. You felt the emotions in each note. Each sound was played naturally as if it was second nature to you. Full of passion like the songs were intended to be played. Classical music that Ghost had admittedly grew bored of listening to just about every day, no matter how well you played, was now completely enthralled. Even songs he’s heard before meeting you seemed to breathe new life as you played with your heart rather than your head. 

Before Ghost knew it, all of his attention was on watching and listening to you play. He saw how you closed your eyes, your fingers naturally finding each key without the use of sheet music. How you swayed as your hands moved. How you beautifully smiled to yourself as you heard the wonderful sounds your hands made. 

It only got better when you began to play songs that weren’t of the classical variety. Songs that would have you banned from playing the piano in the palace. Hell, banned from music in general. There were some modern songs that Ghost recognized, now given your own flair. He didn’t even know how you knew some of those songs, but that didn’t matter. 

You had talent. Real talent. A clear love for music and the piano.

An hour passed by of him neglecting his work just to watch you play. When you finished a final song, you were breathing heavily as if you had just worked out. Your heart was beating hard in your chest. Once you managed to catch your breath, Ghost spoke up, unable to remain just the silent audience. “Why don’t you play like that during classes? You only play the basics with your tutor.”

You nearly had forgotten that Ghost had been there. You weren’t even aware that he had been listening to you play the entire time. A blush spread across your cheeks as you grew bashful all of a sudden. “It is believed that I am slow at learning the piano. I don’t correct this assumption since I don’t want to be pressured to play even more songs that I don’t find much joy in. At least, not the way they want me to play. I. . . I also don’t want to give my parents another party trick that they can exploit.”

His fists clenched at the mention of your parents. With each passing day, he’s come to resent your parents more and more. How they treat you, control your life, and regard you like a pet rather than a daughter was making his blood simmer more each day. It was getting harder for him to hold his true opinions back. “You deserve more. You deserve to play whatever you want whenever you want.”

Your eyes grew wide at his open criticism. This was the first time he spoke his mind like this. Ghost was careful in his words just as you were up until this point. It was actually rather refreshing to hear him not hold back for once. “Thank you. I hope that I can someday get to that point.”

It felt like a wall between the both of you had crumbled down. As the moonlight fell upon your soft features, your optimism for the future bright in your eyes, Ghost felt himself choke up. This was you at your rebelliousness. You were a princess that snuck around in the night to enjoy forbidden knowledge. And he wanted to be part of that.

For a moment, he understood how people could fall in love at first sight.

You began to toy around with the piano again, this time playing a little more quietly and simpler so that Ghost could get back to work. While it was hard to focus on what he needed to do because he wanted to take in more of the beauty he was in the presence of, he managed to finish what he wanted to do for the night. 

He finished his background check on this bachelor that your mother wanted you to marry. Ghost read everything that he could find on the guy. Net worth, news coverage, social media, and even criminal history. Kate was a massive help in finding more confidential information too. Everything was compiled into a report that he wrote himself. When it was done, he got up from the couch and sat down beside you on the piano bench. 

“Would you like to hear the report?” He simply offered, not wanting to break your light playing.

With a nod, you prepared yourself for what Ghost found. He took a deep breath before reading. “Royal background. A duke. Only a couple of years older than you are. Owns a lot of land and has a lot of wealth-”

“I don’t care about any of that.” You interrupted, your tone suddenly a bit colder. As Ghost looked at you with slight shock, you turned your head away. He didn’t expect you to speak up like that. The fact that you did meant that you were getting more comfortable with him though. You were taking this seriously as well.

“What would you like to hear then, Princess?” He offered, giving you more control that you deserved. 

When he spoke back to you so softly, you met his eyes once more. The piano bench was decently big, but Ghost was a big man. You could feel his body heat radiating off of him. As you looked up, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. The way he looked at you like you deserved the world made you feel lighter than air. When you gazed into his eyes, you felt like you could see his genuinity. 

You trusted him. You trusted that he was an excellent judge of character as well. Much more than your own parents. “Based on the values that you know I am looking for, is he a good fit for me?”

Ghost bit his tongue hard, stopping his immediate response from escaping. He wanted to say no. Based on everything he read, this guy seemed stuck-up. Seedy. He had quite a few exes under his belt, not even counting just one-off flings. He didn’t have a criminal record or seemed to be dealing with anything particularly shady, but he did take advantage of his wealthy and royal status to experience certain things in life, regardless of how others may feel.

Then again, Ghost felt like his brain was foggy. Like he couldn’t really make a fair judgment because he wanted to reject him immediately. He had a bias against him. Where it came from exactly, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he didn’t trust him to be the one for you. He didn’t want you anywhere near him either.

For now, he decided to be earnest yet nice. “I don’t think he would be a good match based on his track records, but who’s to say that he isn’t better in person. You’ll have an hour to judge him at the very least.”

Your heart fell as you heard his answer. It wasn’t that you were disappointed over this stranger probably not being the best for you. No. You were disappointed that Ghost wasn’t more blunt with what he thought. You appreciated how he was trying to preserve your feelings, but you didn’t want that right now. You wished that he could protest some more, any excuse not to meet this stranger and play into the hands of your parents. 

As he saw the flash of anguish on your face, Ghost felt his heart break. He could tell that you were really hesitant about this man. You didn’t even want to meet him if you had the choice. Without thinking, he took up your hands and squeezed. His hand was so much bigger than yours. Rougher, sturdier. Hands that have done things that you would never be able to fully comprehend. And now, they were holding yours. 

“One hour. That’s all. However, if you tell me that you hate him, even within the first second of seeing him, I’ll make sure that he won’t even get to touch you.” His tone was resolute, unwavering. 

As he put the control back in your hands, you squeezed his hands right back. Your heart swelled again as if on a rollercoaster. The moonlight cutting across the skull mask you have gotten used to only to brighten his deep, blue eyes made you melt. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” 

-

Taglist: @angel-anna @ghostlythots @maiyatheprettiestprincess

[eroguron0nsense]

Garp Rant #11543

Because I'm something of a Certified Garp Hater/extremely obsessed with this man, and because Tumblr people seem to like my Garp takes and/or find them extremely pain-inducing, here's another one for funsies! Again, Garp is an incredibly written character and I massively enjoy his moral failings and human shortcomings, hence why I won't shut up about how much he sucks. So we all remember Garp crying in front of Ace during his imprisonment and awaiting his execution, lamenting the fact that his son and grandson could have maybe avoided this horrible horrible fate that awaits them at Marineford if they'd just become good marines like he'd tried to press them into. Every time he says it, he sounds more desperate, sadder, and angrier, like he's experiencing the stages of grief and going through denial, anger bargaining all at once, lashing out at his grandkids for supposedly causing him grief by defying his wishes, or maybe praying or wishing for a world where they could have followed in his footsteps and lived happily ever after. And when Ace hears that again at Impel Down, he says this:

Here's the thing though: Ace is unequivocally correct Garp should, by all rights, know this. He lived through the fallout of Roger's execution. He knew long before that exactly what would happen to Roger's loved ones and anyone the government could get their hands on who'd ever associated with him. Even before they started committing femicides/infanticides in Baterilla trying to end Roger's bloodline, he knew that the Marines were going to target completely innocent people in the name of purging the bloodline and cementing their "victory" over the greatest threat they'd ever faced. He specifically had to smuggle Rouge out of there so she could give birth to Ace, and all the while dozens of families were being brutalized by his peers and having their lives torn apart. That was the cost the Marines were willing to incur to kill a hypothetical infant, and years later, when that very same child is set to be executed, Sengoku goes on a remorseless public tirade about the necessity of killing babies and the horrible trickery and audacity Rouge displayed by dying so that they wouldn't kill her baby too.

Garp knows every single piece of this information in painful, excruciating detail. He's so horrified by it he feels the need to fulfill this wish of Roger's because he knows blameless people will die. He has Ace raised in secret to protect him from Marines who are figuratively and literally out for his blood. And yet, throughout this boy's childhood, he clings to the notion that maybe, just maybe, the people he knows regularly commit atrocities, who have carried out at least 3 genocides that we know of in Garp's lifetime, who were willing to commit mass infanticide for a woman and child they hadn't verified the existence or identity of at the time, would have accepted him within their ranks and turned a blind eye to that information when it eventually, inevitably surfaced. That Ace can find salvation from the people who stole every loved one he ever had before he was even born, who slaughtered his mother's community and pushed her to her death, and were slavering at the opportunity to kill her. That even though Ace was born in direct opposition to them, has had a target trained on him before he was born, these people who tried so goddamn hard to kill him would surely welcome his presence and not murder him the second they found out if he could just be a compliant model soldier and make himself useful. It's hammered home pretty effectively–especially in the manga– and One Piece has never been known to be subtle in its messaging, but I swear to God I see so many people echoing the notion that Garp's attempts to force his grandchildren into serving the Evil Empire was done because he knew was their only shot at safety from the WG, and I fucking despise this take. Ace saying that he could never be a marine here in Impel Down isn't some young man's rationalization for his (beyond valid) desire not to subscribe to the preset path Garp laid out for him; it's literally the only logical conclusion if you know literally anything about the circumstances of his birth and upbringing, and Garp only thinks that the leopards wouldn't eat Ace's face because he's fucking delusional This in and of itself is extremely telling of how horribly warped Garp's perception of the Navy is, and how deeply he's willing to buy into the Marines and their warped propaganda no matter how many glaring examples he sees throughout his life that counter his worldview, but let's not forget that this applies to Luffy too. This is slightly hairier, in that if Luffy was a) the sort of person who could willingly accept a career in the marines and b) managed to cling really, really tightly to his grandfather's coattails and legacy, there might have been a very, infinitesimally small chance that he could have joined the Navy. The higher ups know that Dragon is Garp's son and therefore Luffy is Dragon's by logical inference, but I could see some AU where Luffy is a fundamentally different person and manages to build himself up in the Navy if not for two things I think warrant examination. It's pretty evident, and Dragon explicitly confirms, that Luffy being known as his son would have put him in incredible danger, only feeling comfortable with acknowledging it and the possibility of actually reuniting with his child after Luffy was both publicly recognized due to factors beyond his control, and proved that he was more than capable of holding his own. But I want to draw attention to this one otherwise pretty silly little gag moment between Garp and Sengoku when they learn that Luffy's broken into Impel Down, and present a theory that's kind of a reach but also not really

Now the phrasing here kind of interests me, in that it ties back to earlier demonstrated patterns that the Navy uses repeatedly in collective punishment for the families and loved ones of their primary targets. Rouge and Ace barely escaped the mass murders intended for them because of their connection, but Tom was also originally sentenced to death for having had a connection to Roger, and ultimately chose that as the offence he wanted to be sentenced for at Enies Lobby. Law, as a child survivor of Flevance, has multiple hospitals try and turn him in to the World Government to be killed when Cora tries to find someone to treat him because their policy is to pull out the roots and salt the earth whenever they deem a person or population politically inconvenient. Robin's flashback shows us Akainu blowing up a refugee boat on the off chance that one of those people that they were planning to evacuate might have gotten past their initial screening for archaeologists/poneglyph readers. At Marineford, Akainu specifically targets Luffy not because of his prior offences or even his attempt to rescue Ace, but because he's Dragon's son and his and Roger's bloodlines need to be eradicated. This is not an institution that is in any way reluctant to destroy anyone tangentially affiliated to a designated enemy, and Luffy being the son of the worst criminal in history seems to put him right in line with all of those other cases. In light of this, and Garp's massive blind spots and wishful thinking regarding his peers and employers, it's not that much of a stretch to assume that the only reason Garp's exempt from being targeted like Dragon is because of his popularity/symbolic importance/utility, and that Luffy likely wouldn't have been safe even if he weren't a pirate. Garp's circle of confidantes/friends in high places is powerful, but clearly there are factions (Akainu, Ryokugyu etc) that would be substantially less willing and who are given preferential treatment by the Elders and Celestial Dragons. There might be something to read into based on the fact that Garp is the only known person from a D bloodline who's achieved massive success in service to the World Government and not defected from the Navy after realizing its true nature (props to Saul), and therefore he might project the fact that he's been rewarded by the system despite being a "sworn enemy of the Gods" onto his family, but that still doesn't account for the massive, delusional arrogance he displays in insisting that, despite everything–especially, especially the murders committed in pursuit of Ace, that robbed him of his birth mother and community–the Navy is the best and safest place for either of those boys. TLDR Garp not wanting his grandsons to have a bounties on their heads is one thing, but it says a lot that in spite of everything he knows, he's willing/determined to put Ace and Luffy in an environment that's extremely dangerous for them –and in Ace's case 100%, unquestionably fatal– because he's so convinced that compliance and the platonic ideals of "justice" and military service/hard work being rewarded by the system could supersede all of that.

[vixstarria]

Communication

Surprise surprise, they're no good at it.

This is a continuation of my in-game bardlock series, seeing as I left a large gap in it between an intimate and emotional scene and a whole bunch of unhinged fucking. Sorry about that.

Takes place after Intimacy but can be read as a stand-alone!

Read on AO3

Astarion x f!Tav

Early Act 3. It has been nice, but it's time Tav and Astarion actually figured out what it is they're doing and what comes next.

Tav is a half-elf bardlock. I'm calling her Tav in this fic, but if you know you know.

Hurt/comfort, some fluff and a drop of humour (I am me after all) if you squint, love, angst

TW: some very casual violence and murder

Approximately 3.9k words. 

“Well?” A very giddy Astarion had appeared behind Tav. “Let’s go!” 

The party had finally reached the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate and were setting up camp near Rivington, after a brief excursion in the area. 

“Go where?” she asked.

“Anywhere! I haven’t seen these streets in sunlight in two centuries.” 

“Now..?”

The city was flooded with refugees. Some child whose mother was definitely not coming for her had seemingly declared herself adopted by the group. There was a towering pile of corpses just outside one of the nearby gates. A circus was in town.

It was nice to finally be back in civilisation.

“Yes, now! Forget the bloody tent, maybe we’ll find an inn to sleep in for a change.”

Nothing had been arranged, set up or planned yet. They had only the vaguest notion of where they were going.

“Sure, a walk sounds lovely right now,” shrugged Tav.

It very quickly became obvious that finding an inn would be nigh on impossible. The streets were crowded with refugees, frantic citizens and all those who would either try to keep them in order or prey upon them.

“Are we going anywhere in particular, or are we just... going?” Tav asked, trying to make her way through the throng. She had never seen Baldur’s Gate this busy before. 

“There is something I’d like to show you,” answered Astarion. “Some place, to be exact. It’s- hey!”

He realised that he was talking to no one, as they had been separated by a group of dwarves pushing their way through between them. Tav smiled at him over their heads, raising her arms in an open-palmed gesture of defeat and resignation.

“Can’t you keep up?” Astarion sighed, rolling his eyes, and reached for her, taking her hand and linking his fingers through hers.

This… This was new, particularly in public, and Tav bit her lip, fighting not to smile, as he guided her after him. 

Astarion glanced back over his shoulder at her, to see her grinning. 

“Oh shut up,” he huffed, before spilling into a smile too, despite himself, and drawing her close to kiss her.

“Half-elven whore,” a nearby elven woman muttered to her companion in elvish, tsking in distaste at the sight. Either she did not expect to be heard or understood, or simply did not care.

Astarion turned towards the woman, with a glower, but before he could retaliate with his own snide remark, Tav told the elven woman to go fuck herself with a splintered broom, in perfect elvish, and pulled Astarion further down the street before the woman thought of anything else to say.

“Such... delightful use of the True Tongue, dear.” Astarion seemed in equal parts impressed and taken aback. “Don't tell me you’ve been holding out on me this whole time..?”

“Oh, no, I only know a little bit,” laughed Tav. 

“Do indulge me.” 

“No, it’s really hardly anything,” she shook her head. “I can count, exchange pleasantries and profanities, know a few songs I can’t translate, and a few odd phrases.” 

“Such as?” 

“I can scream for help in elvish, for one,” she offered. 

“Why would you need to scream for help in elvish..?” 

“Men are more likely to come running if they think it’s a little elven maiden they’re rescuing,” she explained with a sigh. 

Astarion mulled that over with a frown for a bit. 

“I’ll have to take your word for that... What else? And for hells’ sake, just say something, I enjoyed hearing it.” 

She said the first phrase that came to mind.  

Astarion stopped dead in his tracks, with what Tav knew to be the expression he held when he was doing his best to keep his face straight.  

“So let’s start with what you think you just said.” 

“...Shit. ...Uhh.” Tav gave Astarion a sheepish look. “‘My small children have had nothing to eat for days.’?” 

“Darling,” he said, cupping her cheeks, trying not to laugh. “My love. That’s not quite it... Now, how many people do you think you’ve told you’ve ‘eaten nothing but small children for days’..?” 

“Ah... That explains the reactions,” Tav said thoughtfully. 

“Horror?” Astarion finally snickered.

“Usually laughter... I just figured most elves were assholes.” 

Eventually Astarion brought them onto a rooftop that offered an impressive view of the city and surrounding regions.

“It’s so strange to be here in daylight,” he murmured. “This was one of my spots,” he said, turning to Tav. “I used to come here at the start of my evenings, alone, and just… enjoy the peace and quiet for a while.” Astarion took a pensive look around. “Admittedly, the tiles weren’t as hot at night, and all the bird shit wasn’t as prominent.” 

They found a place to sit down.

“I thought you would try to get your job done as quickly as possible,” said Tav.

“There had to be a certain balance to it.” Astarion shook his head. “Start prowling too early, and the potential targets wouldn’t be ripe for the picking yet. And even if I managed to get someone back to the manor early on in the evening, it would only mean I would have to ‘entertain’ them longer.” He shut his eyes and leaned back against a chimney. “It was better to take some precious solitary repose, when I could.”

“Do you think you might have taken me back to Cazador if you’d met me back then?” Tav asked quietly.

Astarion opened his eyes and frowned at the sudden question. 

“Not if I’d ever seen you perform, no,” he deliberated. “I never went for the bards. They were almost my co-conspirators, though they didn’t know it. I couldn’t waste them.” He paused before continuing. “But otherwise, if I’d just bumped into you at a tavern… Probably, yes. A pretty, reckless stray… You would have been perfect. …Would you have followed?” He asked, glancing at her.

“Probably,” she replied, staring off into the distance.

They sat in silence until Astarion broke it with a question.

“Will you stay with me when all this is over?” 

Just the sheer amount of effort he put into trying to make that question sound casual spoke volumes. 

It caught her off guard. They’d spent many evenings in his tent lazily basking in vague fantasies about an ‘after’, usually concentrating on the idea of being able to stay in bed all day, or the concept of their hair and fingernails being free of dried blood and entrails for a change. They’d never actually discussed any realistic nuance of this ‘after’. Or what it might look like, other than what it wouldn’t look like. 

“Are you certain you want to take Cazador’s place in the ritual..?” she asked, carefully. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Astarion immediately sounded defensive. 

“You don’t even know what it entails or means, not really...” 

“It means having everything I’ve been missing the past two centuries, what else is there to know?” He scoffed. “...You haven’t answered my question,” he said after a pause. 

She said nothing for a while, looking down at her fingernails. 

“Stay and do what..?” 

“Anything!” he exclaimed. “Anything you want. We could do anything. Do you have any idea what I will be capable of? Of the power I will hold. The influence.”

“Yes, yes, legions of wolves, turning into mist,” she recited. “What else… Commanding ghouls, I think?” She threw her head back, looking at the sky. “I’m not sure why you would need to do any of that, though.”

“Unimaginable power, and you mock it…” Astarion said indignantly. “I suppose you would rather go frolic in the woods with Halsin..? …Oh don’t look so shocked, I’ve seen how he looks at you. Sleeping in the dirt, living off the land. Is that what would make you happy?” 

“He looks at you the same way! And must you jump to extremes?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Even if I were interested in Halsin, there is ample space between sleeping in the dirt and sleeping in that gothic monstrosity, in which I might find myself happy.” 

They sat in silence for a while. 

“I don’t think you should go through with it,” she said, finally. “Something about it just doesn’t sit right.” 

Astarion looked at her with an unreadable expression and didn’t say anything. She continued. 

“I know enough stories - and before you roll your eyes at me, there is usually a grain of truth to them – and I’ve read between the lines of enough history texts, to know there is no such thing as a jolly vampire lord that just has a grand ol’ time carousing in their castle. It’s always centred on cruelty, misery and violence.” 

“I suppose you know plenty of stories of jolly vampire spawn,” he spat. 

“Some, as a matter of fact. They usually revolve around romance and redemption.” She sighed and continued, as he let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve never heard of any demonic deals that ended in anything that wasn’t disastrous, either. The point is, nothing that involves blood or soul sacrifice has ever made anyone happy.” She looked in the direction of Cazador’s palace. “We should kill Cazador, burn it all to the ground and dance on the ashes. I will be by your side. And yes, I want to stay with you. Of course I do.” 

“For how long?” Astarion asked quietly, after a pause. 

“...What?” 

“How long will you stay by my side? You have another... 100 years, 150 at best? I can’t offer any solutions to that as a spawn.” 

She blinked, realisation dawning in her eyes.

“...Astarion Ancunin, did you just say you want to spend the rest of eternity with me?” 

“Oh don’t you bloody dare turn this into a joke,” he bristled. “Just for once.”

“Not a joke, but…” She paused and gave her head a brisk shake, as if to snap herself out of a daze. “Just so we’re absolutely clear, what are you saying?”

“Isn’t it obvious..?” The grin that had crept habitually onto Astarion’s face felt like a suffocating mask. She only stared back into his eyes, unblinking, waiting for him to continue. “I could turn you. Grant you an eternity.” ‘With me’, he wanted to add, but the look in her eyes made the words die on his tongue.

None of this was going the way Astarion had expected. Not that he had planned any of this… Still, he’d made certain assumptions. He’d anticipated the conversation and day would flow somewhere along the following lines: re-affirm his plans for Cazador. Exchange words of undying love and devotion. Maybe, maybe make love to her again, later, in celebration. Instead everything was slipping like fine sand through his fingers. Words simply wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Everything he thought he might say suddenly felt pathetic.

“Turn me? To become one of your spawn?” Astarion opened his mouth to speak, but she talked over him. “Two centuries as something you say is less than a slave, a puppet, and you would so easily offer the same fate to me..?”

“First of all,” he sputtered, “I don’t know why you immediately assumed there would be others. Secondly,” he continued, slowing down, “there is another way, or so I’ve read. You wouldn’t be a mere spawn, but a-” Astarion winced, cutting himself off. “Never mind,” he said, shaking his head. This was rapidly spinning further and further out of his control. “I thought you trusted me?” he asked instead.

“It’s not about trust,” she said. “If you had the choice between a hundred years of absolute freedom or being enthralled to someone for eternity - doesn’t matter who - me, Gale, your long-lost grandmother, anyone! What would you choose?”

“I would never compel you,” said Astarion, his voice tinged with a hint of pleading.

“That’s not the point,” she said, looking away, running her hand through and tugging at her hair. “Let’s just head back. We still need to set up before it gets dark, and I promised Karlach we would visit that bloody circus…”

Something inside Astarion shattered and spilled, ice-cold, over his heart as she got up and walked away. 

Not even an hour had passed since some of the happiest moments he’s had in centuries.

They walked back in silence. 

Eventually they came upon an outpost of Flaming Fists and steel watchers, who had appeared on the road they had taken into the city. They were apprehending everyone trying to pass through, whether they were leaving or entering. 

“Let’s try a side street,” offered Astarion. 

They found and made their way through a narrow alleyway. It was empty. Suspiciously empty, in fact - no children running through, no one out for a quick smoke, no drunks pissing on the walls.

Sure enough, once they were halfway through, three goons intercepted their way, stepping out of a doorway. Two humans and an enormous half-orc wide enough to block out most of the passage. 

“Alley toll.” One of the thugs flashed a malicious grin, eyeing Tav up and down. “Better pay up, doll.” Three more jeering hoodlums appeared behind them as he spoke, armed with crude but lethal weapons. 

“Attempting to detain a Council battlemage on duty? Bold but stupid,” she said gravely. “Hand over your profits and Lord Gortash won’t learn of your little enterprise. This is your only warning.” 

Trying to bluff and deceive her way through, per usual. Was there even a Council anymore? Did it employ mages? No matter. Whether due to the fact that she and Astarion had decided to wander the streets of the city in civilian clothes, without armour, or simply because the lust for money and violence had gotten the better of the would-be muggers, they paid her attempt no heed. 

The leader laughed.

“Or, how about we have some fun with you, and your Lord Gortash can come and collect your body from the river once we’re done with it?”

Astarion’s blood boiled.

He reached for his daggers, thoughts racing. Why in the hells had they come here barely armed..? They were surrounded, but perhaps if she blasted the three in front of them they might run through..? But they were probably too close for that… Could she misty step behind them and get away? His undead body would most likely survive whatever came, even with the tadpole. 

“Take the ones behind,” Tav snapped, and Astarion followed her lead, as he had grown used to, silently praying to no particular deity that she knew what she was doing. 

He ducked as one of the goons bellowed and swung a sword at him, dodging the blow to come up next to his attacker, burying a dagger between his ribs and another in his guts, for good measure. At least the alley was too narrow for all of the bandits to come in on them at once. Behind him, Tav spat some incantation that he wasn’t familiar with.

The next lout came at him, only to stop short, as Astarion scrounged up his meagre magical abilities to hurl a firebolt at his face, making the man yelp and grind to a halt in shock and pain. Astarion’s dagger followed through his eye socket shortly thereafter. 

The entire altercation with the two thugs took mere seconds. Another controlled shout from Tav followed behind him.

The last of the muggers on Astarion’s side backed away, looking at the scene unfolding behind Astarion with a horrified expression, before breaking into a run and disappearing. 

Astarion turned back to witness Tav standing with her arms crossed, looking unaffected, just as the half-orc who had been behind the group’s leader pulled his sword back out from the leader’s stomach, having impaled him from behind.

Tav barked another command as the leader collapsed, and the half-orc slammed the head of his other cohort, who hadn’t understood what was happening yet, against a wall, with a resounding crunch. 

A domination spell. 

Astarion felt nauseous. If his body had been capable of producing bile, it would have crept up at the back of his throat. For once, the smell of freshly spilled blood all around them was repulsive to him.

 “Kneel,” Tav commanded, calmly. The half-orc’s body immediately dropped to its knees, with a thud that spoke of damaged kneecaps.

“I’m running out of time. Do you need him?” She stepped over the body of the group’s dying ex-leader and walked around the half-orc, to stand behind him. 

Disgust and revulsion continued to claw at Astarion’s insides. 

“…What?”

The half-orc’s eyes were void of any emotion. A small mercy.

“Blood. Do you want his blood, before I spill it?” she said nonchalantly.

“…No,” he swallowed. Not like this…

He watched as she slit his throat, carefully standing behind him to avoid blood spraying over herself. Comprehension returned to the man’s eyes just as he made his last gurgling sounds, before stilling forever. 

“That was despicable,” Astarion hissed, finally breaking his gaze away from the body. “Compulsion? Really?!”

She gave him an incredulous look, momentarily speechless.

“This is what I do!” she exclaimed. “This is how I protect myself. You know this! What the fuck did you expect - that I would set off a fireball in an alley?! Or make one of them have a fit of giggles?!”

“You didn’t need to do anything, I could have handled all of them,” he countered.

“Oh, stand behind you like a meek little lamb?” She scoffed. “While neither of us are even wearing armour, and they’re on both sides? Don’t be ridiculous.” She crouched to wipe her dagger on the dead man’s clothes. “What does it matter, anyway,” she said, offhanded. “Dead is dead - who cares how they got there?” 

“It was just like Cazador all over again,” Astarion said, bitterly. “Watching my siblings torture each other, for his amusement, waiting for it to be my turn to be compelled.”

She stilled as she crouched, not looking up at him. 

“You fucking hypocrite,” she said, finally, rising. 

“What in the hells are you talking about?” he grimaced.

“Comparing me to Cazador, when you’re planning to take his very place.”

“How dare you?” Astarion felt the last of his composure leaving him. “I am nothing like Cazador, and I never will be,” he growled.

“No?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re already thinking of your own spawn. Maybe you would keep your word and not compel me, but you would be curious. All that power that you’ve been wishing was yours for 200 years...” She gesticulated, tilting her head. “First just one teensy little slave - someone who’s wronged you, maybe, someone who deserves to bear your ire. Then, perhaps someone convenient, in a place of power. Someone like what you would have been, had Cazador not botched your death so bad that it became public. Then another. And another. And what will you do with them once you have them? Take them for midnight picnics and host slumber parties?” 

She spat on the ground. 

“I’m going back to camp.”

She stormed off, fuming, exiting the alleyway and mixing into the crowd. Astarion followed at a distance, discreetly wiping the blood that had landed on his hands on the shirt of a random passerby that stumbled out in front of him. He gritted his teeth, watching her.

It had taken every last bit of his self-control to not snap back at her during her little tirade. 

He wanted to stalk off in the opposite direction, but frankly all his things were at the campsite, and he still needed the group’s help, both with Cazador and the tadpole. And he couldn’t discount something else happening to her on the way back. 

No, none of this was what he thought would end up happening today. Was this the end..?

It didn’t matter, he thought. Let her be stubborn. Let her accuse him of gods know what. He would do what he had set out to do. Hells, even if she changed her mind later - it would be too late. Let her live out her “hundred years of freedom” in regret.

And how fucking dare she?! Insinuating that he was or could ever be anything like Cazador. After all he had given her. His trust. His love. He didn’t have anything else. Not as a spawn, anyway.

But perhaps she would change her mind, after she gave his proposal more thought..? He could talk her into it, couldn’t he? He’s talked so many people into doing exactly what he wanted them to do…

There was no point in anything otherwise. It was all for her. All he wanted for himself was revenge. Freedom. Safety. But all the power in the world was meaningless if he couldn’t share it with her.

Astarion winced at the thought, hating that it even crossed his mind. If only he could claw it out of his brain and smash it against the cobbles beneath his feet. How much simpler life would be.

He would not grovel. He would not apologise. He would not change his mind. And he would rather die, again, than be caught running after her like a dog. 

Astarion cursed, slipped into the shadows and turned invisible, breaking into a sprint. He wouldn’t be able to replicate the trick for a while now, if the need arose, but he couldn’t care less. 

He raced up sets of stairs, speeding through a terrace, dodging the patrons of whatever establishment it was he was going through, and leaped, unseen, onto the next building’s, until he was ahead of her, descending back onto the ground and losing his invisibility around the corner from the main street, stepping out just in front of her. 

He caught a glimpse of her scowling and furiously blinking away tears just before she crashed into his chest with a light gasp, as he wrapped his arms around her. She was stiff and rigid, but at least she didn’t try to push him away. Still, a part of him was screaming that it was already too late.

“I don’t want you to have to commit those atrocities when you’re with me,” Astarion murmured into her hair, holding her close.

“You’d rather commit them yourself?” she retorted, her voice weak.

“I don’t want to,” he said quietly, as she seemed to become more malleable, and sank into his embrace, slowly wrapping her own arms around his back. “But I will if I have to. For you.”

“That makes two of us, I guess,” she managed, sounding choked up. 

Astarion took a deep breath, relieved. Mine… Still mine… He thought to himself, touching his forehead against hers and stroking her cheek. Someone in the street heckled them, yelling something about getting a room.

“I already don’t have much to offer, beyond all my burdens,” he whispered. She looked up at him, eyes glistening. She tried to protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “I want to do what I can, for you. For us. What good am I if I can’t even keep you safe?”

He pressed his lips against her forehead as she hugged him tighter. He had no idea whether he had convinced her of anything, or if she simply didn’t have the will to argue anymore, but for now it didn’t matter.

“I will love you no matter what,” she breathed.

Another jeer followed from the crowd, and someone cursed at them to get out of the way.

“A legion of wolves sounds tempting right about now,” she added, as he smiled.

“Do you still want to get Karlach and go to that circus?” he asked.

“Fuck the circus,” she mumbled into his shirt. “But I guess we should.”

They made their way back to the camp, fingers interlocked again. The silence that stretched once more almost felt comfortable this time.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

Series master list

Next in series - A night at the inn

AO3

~~~~~

Tag list:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna @mj-bites @bardic-inspo

[peacelovepandora]

New Breath, All Mine (Daddy's Here Sequel)

Jake Sully x Daughter!Reader

everyone was heartbroken after the first part, and the demand for a sequel was high, so here it is. also, I want to give full credit to @vampxra for proposing this wonderful sequel idea!

I hope you like this (and also happy birthday @vampxra consider this a b-day present) ! sorry to put y'all through the trauma of the first part hopefully this makes up for it

do yourself a favor and listen to The Songcord during the first part of this one too lmao

enjoy xx.

Time no longer felt like a factor. Your existence was only peace. Smiling to yourself, you stared up at the swinging tendrils of the massive, effulgent Tree of Souls. The sky was dark and the stars--that you admired so deeply--winked down at you. As you laid on your back, allowing the softness of the ground to relax you, the feeling of an additional presence pulled you from your serenity.

Sitting up, you looked around until your eyes fell on a tall figure. As the figure walked towards you, it slowly developed from a silhouette to a blurred image before finally materializing.

Your eyes widened as you stood up, preparing to greet the approaching presence. Though you'd never gotten the chance to meet him, something within you confirmed that he was exactly who you believed he was.

He slowly made his way up the slanted roots before coming face-to-face with you. Your mouth dropped in awe as you gawked up at him. Amused by your reaction, he tilted his head, which slightly agitated the beads in his hair.

"No greeting for me?" he asked, smirking as he opened his arms.

"You are . . ." you breathed, "the great warrior. Brother of my father. Uncle of me. Tsu'tey."

His smirk grew into a smile as you rushed forward before colliding with his chest. As you wrapped your arms around his neck, he closed his arms around your torso.

Tucking your face into his neck, you spoke again. "It is so wonderful to finally meet you."

You felt his large hands briefly rub your back. "And you, as well, my strong little warrior." He pulled away, placing hands on your shoulders. "But, I am afraid I cannot stay."

You frowned at his words. "Why?"

He smiled gently, grabbing one of your hands in his. "I am here to deliver a message to you. The Great Mother has sent me."

Your eyebrows flew up as your lips parted. Remaining quiet, you waited for him to continue. "You have been called," he stated simply.

When you didn't reply, he placed a gentle hand on your cheek. "You have called back--by your family," he continued, "The Great Mother sent me to you, allowing your family to communicate this message. However, the choice is yours."

After a long moment, with wide eyes, you finally choked out a response. "You mean, I can return to them?"

Tsu'tey bowed his head, giving a single nod.

For the first time since you'd arrived--and you had no clue how long you'd been there--you felt conflicted. As much as you wanted to see your family, you felt guilty about leaving The Great Mother when she had called you to her.

Sensing your battling thoughts, Tsu'tey gave your hand a squeeze. Snapping out of your daze, you looked back up at him.

"The Great Mother understands all. Nothing will change her love for you. You will join Her again."

His words were the confirmation that you needed. Joy washed over you as a teary smile crossed your face. Raising his hand to your lips, you placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

"Thank you, my wonderful uncle," you whispered, "I wish we could have talked longer. I will miss you."

Another soft smile spread across his face. "We will see each other again," he replied gently, "and we will talk for all of eternity, if that is your wish. For now, go be with your family."

Taking one last look at him, you finally nodded and smiled. He gazed fondly at you before stepping forward. Then, he gripped both sides of your head before leaning in. As soon his lips connected with your forehead, the world around you went white.

-

"The Great Mother protects only the balance of life," Mo'at explained in a low voice, "The choice will be Hers."

"I understand," Jake replied, nodding his head, "I just . . . wanna give it a try."

Mo'at nodded once before raising her hands, signaling for The People to begin. The luminescent areas of the Tree of Souls, and the surrounding roots, began to flash repeatedly. Your body, which your family had brought back to the forest, was spread beneath the glowing tendrils. Slim, glowing tendrils--that were the size of blades of grass--wrapped around your body, connecting your physical body to Eywa. The People chanted--all of their voices becoming one as they begged for Eywa to return your soul.

Jake, who was sitting on your right side, stared down at your peaceful face, praying for a miracle. Neytiri, who sat on the opposite side, watched your state while rubbing a gentle thumb over your hair. Your brothers sat on either side of your legs.

As Mo'at continued to conduct the revival ceremony, the flashing lights grew faster.

"Ting mikyun ayoer, ruxte, ma nawma sa'nok!" Mo'at chanted.

"Srung si poeru, ma Eywa!" The People chanted.

"Please," Jake whispered, "Bring her back to us."

Neytiri, being the only one that heard his words, placed a hand on his. He looked up, meeting her gaze before giving her a soft smile.

"Eo Eywa oe 'ia, eo Eywa oe 'ia, eo Eywa oe 'ia, eo Eywa oe 'ia," Mo'at repeated, rolling her eyes to the back of her head.

Arms spread out, she shook over your body, allowing herself to become lost within the ceremony. The lights within the roots flashed faster, resembling a strobe light pattern now. Then, after a long minute of chanting, Mo'at came to a sudden stop. Snapping her eyes open, she signaled for the people to cease their chants.

She lowered her gaze to your body, moving slowly as she kneeled over you. Jake's heart pounded against his ribcage as he waited for Mo'at to speak.

With an awestruck expression, Mo'at finally broke the silence. "She is with us."

Jake withheld a gasp as he snapped his head to Neytiri. Neytiri, who had been looking at her mother, turned to Jake. They stared at one another for a moment before lowering their gazes to you. Reaching out, Jake brushed a loose strand of hair from your forehead before cupping your face.

The air was still. No one dared to speak, or even take a breath. All they could do was wait.

-

"She is with us."

The echoing voice was familiar to your foggy mind. However, distinguishing who it belonged to was too much effort for you. At the moment, all you could do was try to center yourself.

For the longest time, you felt disconnected--like you were a floating presence, suspended in an airless vacuum. However, ever-so-slowly, you began to feel the world around you.

There was air. It was crisp, but not uncomfortably cold. Something soft was behind you, but you couldn't distinguish what it was. Your existence slowly morphed from nothingness to darkness.

It's dark, you thought to yourself, before realization began to dawn on you, My eyes must be closed.

Then, the object behind you became clearer as you felt gravity pushing down on you.

I'm laying down, you realized, I'm laying down on something soft, and I feel it behind me.

The elements of the surrounding world, that you'd once known, were slowly beginning to materialize in your mind, grounding you from your spiritual state.

As you became aware of the body that you were in, you struggled to move. However, you felt paralyzed.

Slowly, my child. Not yet, an unknown, yet comforting voice rang within your head, startling you, You will return at your own pace.

Suddenly, something agitated you. Then, it agitated another part of you. Concentrating, you tried to picture your surroundings.

My face, you decided, Someone is touching my face.

The touch did wonders to ground you further. It gave you perspective. You relaxed into its warm embrace, allowing the remaining parts of yourself to materialize. Before long, you felt steady.

Your body was laying down on the soft, marsh-like material of the ground. Small tendrils were gripping the sides of your skin. A large hand was cupping your cheek, slowly rubbing a thumb over your cheekbone. At last, you felt like you could breathe.

"Hhhh." A small, almost intangible, sigh, left your lips.

The thumb froze its movements, lifting itself above your skin, hovering shakily over your cheek.

"Baby girl?" a hesitant voice spoke.

It was so close. It had to be right above you. Fatigue faded and a new wave of strength washed over you. Using this strength, you concentrated on the muscles of your eyes. After a minute, you managed to lift them open.

At first, everything was white. However, the white quickly faded as a hazy world transpired before you. You were too busy trying to clear your vision to take notice of the gasps and screams around you.

"Oh Great Mother!" a voice wailed, "Great Mother, thank you! Thank you!"

The back of your head was cupped and two faces nuzzled into your cheeks. Blinking rapidly, you finally saw the world clear around you. The faces lifted, and you met the gazes of your mother and father.

After processing their faces, you finally gained the strength to speak.

"Hi." Your voice came out breathlessly.

Smiling widely, they both broke into a relieved wave of laughter. Their eyes, which were pouring with tears, glanced at each other before returning to you.

"Hello, my love," Neytiri replied as Jake spoke a raspy, "Hi, baby girl."

"Baby sister?"

Your eyes shifted behind your father's head. A joyous expression spread across your face as Neteyam and Lo'ak came into view. Tears were leaking from their faces, as well.

"Big brothers," you greeted, smiling widely at them.

Neteyam ran his hand over his face, wiping the tears, before scooting closer to you. When he reached his hand out, you immediately outstretched yours. The two of you grabbed hands and squeezed tightly. Lo'ak did the same, grabbing your other hand.

"I love you, big brothers," you said before turning to your father, "Daddy?"

He'd been staring at you, an expression of astonishment still evident on his face. "Daddy?" you called again.

He snapped out of his trance. "Y-Yes?" he replied, nerves evident in his voice, "I'm here, I'm here."

"Uncle Tsu'tey," you answered, making his mouth fall agape, "He delivered the message--from all of you. He told me that you all were calling to me, and that The Great Mother could return me to you."

Jake's eyes, which had slightly calmed, were overwhelmed with a new wave of tears. Tilting his head, he gripped the back of your neck.

"Is that right?" he asked, shifting his eyes to Neytiri.

When you turned to your mother, she smiled at you. "He is your family too," she whispered, brushing a finger over your cheek, "He came for guidance."

Nodding your head, you released your brothers' hands before cupping the back of your parents' heads. They leaned in, allowing you to hold them closely. Jake and Neytiri reached their hands out, pulling Neteyam and Lo'ak in as the family wrapped themselves around your small body.

-

As your family walked away from the tree, along with the rest of The People, you looked up at your father.

"Daddy?" you called.

Jake, who had been walking with an arm around your shoulders, looked down. "Yeah, baby?"

Your mother, who was holding the hand farthest from Jake, looked over at the sound of your voice.

"Are we still living with the Metkayina?" you asked.

He sighed before tightening his grip on you. "It isn't safe for you here, because this is our home. It's known to everyone," he answered, making you nod in response, "but with the Metkayina, you'll be safer. And, should anything happen, you'll be protected by Tonowari and his family while we go out on the field."

Gazing in front of you, you answered in a quiet voice. "I won't be fighting anymore."

"No." Jake, Neytiri, Neteyam, and Lo'ak replied together.

"Hell no. Absolutely not. Out of the question," Jake continued sternly, "We lost you once, but were fortunate enough to be blessed with a miracle."

When you didn't respond, he glanced down at you. Sensing his eyes, you lowered your gaze before nodding obediently.

Realizing that he'd let his emotions get the best of him, he halted his movements before turning to you and cupping your face with both hands. "I'm sorry, baby girl. I just--I got a little . . . " He stopped, closing his eyes to collecting his words. "I won't lose you again," he whispered, shaking his head as his eyes grew hazy, "I wouldn't--I couldn't even bear it the first time."

Feeling your own eyes gloss over, you tilted your head before gripping one of his wrists. "I know, Dad. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

His hands, which were rubbing your cheeks, moved up to cup the top of your head. They smoothed over your head and ran down your lengthy hair. He'd always petted your hair, but you knew that this act of comfort was moreso for himself, than for you.

He couldn't believe you were there, standing right in front of him, breathing again. He was so afraid that, if he disconnected his physical touch, you would disappear and fade into a cloud of dust.

"Don't apologize," he finally replied, "Don't you ever apologize for this. If anything . . . we should be thanking you . . . for coming back to us."

He shifted his gaze to look at the rest of your family. Neteyam stepped closer before taking your free hand. After smiling glossily at each member of your family, you looked back at your father.

"I still needed all of you," you replied, "and you still needed me."

Cupping the back of your head, Jake placed a kiss on your forehead.

-

The pain, so familiar, was almost as strong as the first time you'd felt it. The vision of your chest, and the red liquid leaking from it, was branded into your mind. It was so clear, like you were in the moment, once again.

"Y/N."

You looked up at Neteyam, and his petrified gaze that paralyzed you.

"Baby girl, look at me. Open you eyes."

Sucking in a harsh breath, your eyes snapped open as you jerked yourself to a sitting position. Panting, you blinked rapidly before looking around, desperately trying to establish your surroundings.

"Baby, hey. Hey, hey, hey."

Arms were around you, restricting your movements. The panic spiked within you as you thrashed harder, still seized by the terror of your nightmare.

"Shh, shh, shh. I know, I know. It's okay, it's okay."

You finally recognized your father's soft coos. Freezing your movements, you looked around the dimly-lit hut. However, when your eyes failed to locate him, your breath picked up again.

"Dad," you wheezed, feeling your chest tighten up.

"Here, baby," Jake whispered, gently turning your head to face him, "I'm right here."

He was cradling you, but his arms were also restricting your arms, keeping them at your sides. You wheezed as you struggled to break from your frantic state.

"I was--It was--"

He only nodded, rocking you in his lap. "I know, I know."

Jake knew what your nightmare was about. In fact, he'd been expecting this. There was no way that you'd adjust back to your life without the trauma you'd experienced coming back to haunt you in some form.

Your shallow breaths prohibited your ability to form a sentence. "I can't--I can't--"

"I got you," he whispered, nodding down at you, "I got you, baby. It's all over. It's all over."

He grabbed your shaking hand and pressed it to his chest, allowing you to feel his heartbeat. As you rested your head in the crook of his elbow, Jake kept his gaze fiercely trained on you and stopped his rocking movements.

"You feel this?" he asked, squeezing you gently to emphasize his grip on you, "I've got you. You're mine. My baby, my little girl. All mine." He shook his head. "No one's taking you from me ever again."

Shaking all over, you sucked in a harsh, audible breath as tears began pouring down your cheeks. A long, loud sob tore through your lips before you took in another loud breath.

It took everything in Jake to hold back his own tears. The fragility of your state made it imperative for him to show no signs of weakness. You were looking to him for comfort--for protection from the horrors of your mind.

"Big breaths, baby. Big breaths," he instructed, resuming his rocking movements, "That's it."

Using his chest as a reference, you slowly adjusted yourself to imitate his breathing patterns. He flattened his large hand over yours.

"That's my girl." His voice proved to be highly therapeutic for you. It was the first voice you'd heard, and the last one you'd heard. "So good. You're doing so good."

After a long few minutes, he'd finally managed to ground you from your panic attack. Your breaths grew even and your sobs quieted. Apart from Jake's continuous rocking motions, no signs of you distress remained.

"All mine," he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief as he gazed down at you.

As your eyes began to droop, you snapped them open. Finally breaking from Jake's grasp, you sat up before scooting next to him, never taking your hand off of his chest.

He squeezed the hand that he was holding. "What is it, baby?"

"I can't go back to sleep," you whimpered, shaking your head, "I won't."

Jake sighed, completely understanding your fear. However, he desperately wanted you to get some more rest, knowing the toll a lack of sleep could take on you--physically and emotionally.

He thought for a moment, rubbing his thumb over your hand. Then, an idea finally materialized in his head. Gently, he stood up, raising you up with him. When you gave him a questioning look, he nodded towards the hut entrance.

"C'mon," he said, taking your hand and guiding you towards the doorway.

The two of you walked a small distance before arriving at a hammock that your family had set up outside the hut. Jake sat on the swinging object. Then, he spread his legs out and positioned himself to lay down. Finally, he gave your hand a gentle tug, signaling you to come to him.

"C'mere."

He pulled you into the spot next to him, cupping your head as you placed it on his chest.

"I don't want to sleep," you stressed, earning a shush from him.

"We aren't," he whispered, "We're stargazing."

For a long moment, Jake waited until he felt you relax against him--completely letting your guard down--before initializing the second part of his plan.

His mind hadn't wandered to his Earth life in years. However, a soft, Earthling tune, echoing from the distant memories of his childhood, overtook his mind when you'd first protested the idea of sleeping.

Prior to Pandora, music--or any artistic realm--never proved to be Jake's forte. However, life with the Omaticaya had changed every fiber of his DNA. Many nights had been spent singing, dancing, chanting, and celebrating. Therefore, it wasn't too out-of-character for him to sing for you. However, it was unusual for him to sing an Earth song.

"Stay awake, don't rest your head," he slowly began, making your eyes--which you hadn't realized had closed--snap back open, "Don't lie down upon your bed."

He couldn't place where he knew the song from but, for some reason, the lyrics came with a foreign ease. "While the moon drifts in the skies, stay awake don't close your eyes."

Glancing down to check on you, he watched your eyes begin to droop again. Acting carefully, he began petting your head, further coaxing your tiredness. "Though the world is fast asleep, though your pillow soft and deep," he continued, dropping his voice to a lower volume, "You're not sleepy as you seem. Stay awake, don't nod and dream . . ."

Just as he'd hoped, your head fell limp on his chest. Releasing a breath, he leaned down and gave you a kiss. Then, he relaxed against the hammock, enjoying the feeling of your beating heart and peaceful breaths--simple things he was so thankful that you'd been given a second chance at possessing.

Taglist : @eywas-daughter @pturnersblog @bombshe77 @faatxma @scryarchives @gamorxa @222krn @ellabellabus07 @perfectprofessorloverapricot @raefoxi@egirl @vampxra @itssiaaax @tinkerbelle05 @brittclass-18 @missroro @aisylazzy @leomatsuzaki @joey-hoey @eternallyvenus @mae-is-crazy

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Forced Coordination - 1

PAIRINGS: Joel Miller x Reader

SUMMARY: The harshness of last winter has left hundreds of frozen Infecteds around the safe walls of Jackson. As a strategist from your job before the outbreak, you devised a smart plan. Maria assigns Joel to handle the cleanup work. However, you must work together as a pair to fulfil this task. How will it go with working with the rugged man the whole town has a crush on?

WARNINGS: Mentions of Infected, swearing, slight age gap (Joel is in his mid 40s and Reader is in her early-30s).

WORD COUNT: 1,760

ENJOY!

“You will be working with our strategist,” Maria says, crossing her arms as she leans against her desk. The sun glints through the blinds, reflecting off shiny surfaces and illuminating the semi-cramped space.

 Spring encompasses Jackson with its warmth, seeking forgiveness from the community and offering support with its gentleness after the wreckage of a winter Mother Nature had put them through.

Joel raises a brow from his place on the couch, “strategist?” One of his hand’s rests on the buckle of his belt, while the other is thrown across the arm of the couch. Joel has no idea why his sister-in-law wanted to meet up with him, but he couldn’t deny her request, knowing that Tommy might hand him his ass on a silver plate.

Maria nods, “yes, a strategist.” She walks around her desk and slides open a drawer before retrieving a manila file. “Apparently, the runners that froze over the winter are beginning to thaw, and I need someone skilled to take them out,” she thumps the file on the coffee table in front of the Texan.

Joel reaches for the file and flips through it. He saw black and white pictures of the frozen infected stuck against trees and bushes. “And you want me to sort this out?” Joel looks at Maria with a confused expression, not fully understanding the premise of this meeting.

She nods again, “the number of runners this time around has increased drastically. I can’t just send in a group of men to kill them off; that’s too risky.” And Joel agrees with her; he has seen a lot of them during his patrols over the winter.

Joel nods, “and who-” His line gets interrupted by a knock at the door. “Enter,” Maria says as she goes to sit in her chair.

You open the door slightly and peek your head in, “Maria, you asked to see me?” Maria nods and wave for you to walk in further. You comply, walking in and closing the door behind you, then turned to see another person in the room with you: Joel Miller.

You have seen Joel Miller before, seen him walking around Jackson with some teenager or on a horse at times. You have heard all the women, and some men, of Jackson talk about him and his looks. You have made eye contact with him multiple times, but it had never strayed far from just a nod from either of you.

Maria introduces him to you and vice versa. You nod at him in acknowledgment before turning back to Maria. “I thought this matter would’ve been a little more… private,” you say to Maria. Your hearing caught Joel slightly scoffing at your statement.

“Remember that infected population schematic you created?” She asks, combing through another drawer.

“I, uh, yeah, I do. Why?” You ask, leaning against the door behind you. Maria pulls out a map and pins it to the corkboard next to the couch.

Maria points at a couple of different areas on the map, saying something along the lines of ‘infected’ and ‘area’. Then she looks back at Joel. The man in question snapped out of his reverie, “pardon?”

Maria rolls her eyes, “I said, she managed to figure out an approximate number of infected that are out there around the walls of Jackson. Not only that, but she also figured out their moving patterns too,” she said, demonstrating with your work, drawings, and calculations on the map.

Joel nods, not really getting it, “alright?”

The blonde shakes her head, “I’m indirectly saying that this map is going to be your map. You’re gonna be working alongside her for the entirety of this spring.”

You straighten up, “I’m sorry, what?” You shake your head, “but I’m not in Patrol though.”

Maria nodded in understanding, “I understand. I know that you’re in Sustainability, but your observation and statistical skills are needed here now more than ever.”

You shake your head slightly, “and what about Sustainability?” You care about your work at Sustainability; you help in plantation, but not really in farming. You’re good in statistics, and your work really help in increasing the yield of crops that were grown in Jackson every year. You do good and honest work.

“I can’t just up and leave my position. What happens if-,” Maria quiets you with a raise of her hand. “I understand,” she says sternly. You bite the inside of your cheek to prevent from biting back, inhaling deeply to simmer down your anger.

“You’ll still be in Sustainability; you just have a side task to do. I expect you to not treat this task like any other, but with high importance, understood?” she looks at you, leaning back in her chair.

“Understood,” you reply, crossing your arms and looking away. “Good,” she nods and picks up a clipboard, holding it out for you, “write down anything you both might need on this, and I’ll get it for you.”

You take ahold of the clipboard and thank her when she offered a pen. You write down all the stuff that you might need before ripping the paper and handing your piece to Maria. Then you hand both the board and pen to the rugged man.

“I expect the both of you to start as soon as possible because we want this problem to be solved before we start getting problems from those things,” Maria says, rubbing her temples to soothe her headache.

-----

The sun beats down on your back as you take notes on your clipboard. Merissa yaps beside you about how last night's mac and cheese should've been named "yuck and cheese."

“I mean, we literally make the cheese. And I have it every day for breakfast. What the fuck did they do that was so out of the ordinary to make it taste like diarrhoea?” she scoffs, leaning against her tall shovel.

You wince at the description, “You didn’t have to put that description so graphically.” She gives you a tight-lipped smile, her braid falling behind and back to her back when she looks over your shoulder to see who’s approaching you two.

A throat is cleared behind you, and you turn to see who it is. It’s Joel Miller. “Afternoon,” he nods his head slightly at the two of you. He looks at Merissa, then back at you, “A word?”

You bit your lip and then look back at Merissa, “I’ll see you at tonight’s supper.” Merissa wiggles her eyebrows at you and smirks before practically shooing you into Miller’s space.

“Sorry about her, she’s just-,” he interrupts you before you could even finish your sentence.

“Maria informed me she readied a space in the warehouse and sternly said we get right to it,” he says, not looking at you, but at the workers behind you.

You didn’t understand the deal with this man. Before you were even assigned to this task, you thought that the brother-in-law of the Head of this community would be chill. Turns out he’s not. Is it because he’s old? He seemed to be in his mid-forties. You were formally introduced to the man yesterday, why was he so mean?

You squint at him, thinking about what to say next. “So, uh, do we have to-,” he interrupts you, again.

“We’ll be heading there now,” he says, still avoiding eye contact, and then beginning to move past you.

-----

The basement was chillier than the main level; you slightly shuddered when you climbed down the stairs upon entering.

The office, however, reminded you of your corporate days. Being a former strategist was the highlight of your past life—the life where you didn’t look over your shoulder every five minutes. The life where you had a stable job, enough to get by and live a simple life.

But now, your skills were used to figure out the yield of crops and the population and movement of the Infected.

Joel walks in behind you and sees the blackboard with several pieces of chalk lined on its shelf. “Wonder what that’s for,” he whispers, his accent thickening.

You walk over to it and trace your fingers over the hard surface. “I put it on my list,” you turn to look back at him, “I work better when my work is done on a board.” He didn’t look at you but at the board.

“Right,” he says, thumping his bag on the only wooden table present in the middle of the room. The dingy fluorescent light illuminated most of the space; it was just the corners that succumbed to darkness.

You see the rolled-up schematic of your plan lay behind the rolling blackboard. “You got tape?” you ask the Texan while unrolling the schematic and seeing the mapped-out area around Jackson and all the arrows and circles you made with a red marker.

You hear the scraping of a chair and feel him behind you. “Lemme,” he takes the schematic from your hands while simultaneously ripping a piece of tape from the roll using the other.

He singlehandedly manages to paste the large papers on the wall behind the blackboard. You move the blackboard so it is at an angle; you looked around the room, and you practically stand in the imaginary triangle formed by the map, table, and blackboard.

“Right, let’s get started,” you pick up the white chalk and scratch it against the blackboard.

-----

“I think we can end here for tonight,” you step back and glance at the watch on your wrist, slightly in shock that you had managed to spend five whole hours here, just talking, writing, and planning, while Joel just sat there and watched.

“Did you get what I told you, or did you blank out in between?” you ask, turning to face him.

He sat leaned back against the wooden chair. He scoffs at your question, “I caught on.”

You squint your eyes at him, “I spoke for five hours straight, and you didn’t take any notes?” He puffs air through his nose; you would consider it a chuckle, but you weren’t really betting your money on it. “Don’t need to,” he replies before standing and picking up his backpack. “That it?” he asks, looking at you.

You seriously didn’t know what the deal with this guy was.

You nod, “for today, yeah. But I assu-.” He talks over you, again.

“See you tomorrow, good day,” he nods at you before leaving you alone in the office.

That’s when you realise.

He finally looked you in the eye.

🎀🎀🎀

Here's the first CHP lovlies!!!

Lemme know what y'all think

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[thebadboyfanclub]

Lady Wife Falling Asleep Headcanon (Aemond, Aegon, Daemon, Jacaerys)

I haven’t written a headcanon in a minute so I wanted to give you guys a story that explained what I think they would do, hopefully you enjoy my take on it

-

AEMOND

Everyone was raving about the tourney, it was Aemonds name day so the celebrations were in full effect, (y/n) on the other hand as much as she adored her husband she would be content with laying in bed by his side. Slowly but surely her eyelids felt too heavy to be open and (y/n)s head hung a bit to the side.

Aemond was always a man that noticed details so it didn’t take long for him to realize (y/n) has drifted to slumber, alarmed by just how tired his lady wife was and torn between taking her in his arms or staying at the name of duty, he simply raised his hand for her sworn knight to come closer.

“Take her in our chambers, call the maester, and let him know of this incident”

The knight only nodded before he took her away as gently as possible, Aemond was aware that if he left it would seem inappropriate, his mothers' hawk eyes were already on him so he felt it was best to have his lady wife taken to a more comfortable and private setting while he suffered through the tourney.

AEGON

Aegon always scoffed at small council meetings, however once in a while he would attend just so he can get his mother and grandsire off his back, albeit having his (y/n) by his side made it less boring.

He was holding (y/n)s hand the whole time and sometimes communicate with her via looks or counted squeezing of hands, (y/n) on the other side was fighting with herself to keep her conscious awake, she did not know if it was the long monologue of the grant maester or just the ridiculous time of hour she would go to sleep due to inability to get comfortable but now the beautiful sensation of rest was engulfing her like a warm blanket.

Aegon squeezed her hand once more but surprisingly he did not get a response, her hand remained gentle so he turned his head over to her in a way to figure out what was happening, Aegon had to hold back a giggle when he heard her muffled snores as he found it adorable.

“Is the lady alright?”

“Yes she is quite alright, we must be excused, lady (y/n) is a prime example of how utterly dull this is”

“What?”

Aegon guessed that (y/n) had been awoken by the drag of Aegons chair or his voice, whatever it may be she was staring at him with confusion, only to be met with a kind smile on Aegons lips as he offered his hand for her to take, it was certainly amusing to him to see (y/n) blatantly disregarding everyone around her so she can rest.

“Nothing my love, come along now I know a very comfortable bed you are probably looking forward to laying on”

DAEMON

Dinners were usually (y/n)s favorite part, howbeit the past few days she seemed to feel a bit weak and her stomach was quite sensitive, the smells of certain food stirred up nausea but today they were visiting kings landing, it was a must that they attend.

As everyone talked about everything and anything (y/n) only toyed with her food and soon enough she just laid back on her chair, like a thief in the night the sense of sleep took over and the idea of resting her eyes became a deep sleep.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)”

As (y/n) was stirred awake her eyes met Daemons, he was visibly concerned by her unusual behavior of her, combining it with the illness that was circling her he was worried that it was getting to her even more.

“I apologize, the trip was quite long”

“It was, you must excuse us, I want to escort my lady wife to our chamber”

“We can call the maester for her”

“No, she needs some warm tea and to stay abed so she can sweat it out, she will be fine”

Daemon dismissed his brother as he linked (y/n)s arm with his to assist her with walking, Daemon was never a supporter of Maesters, he did not want them to taint his wife and the last part was mostly for him to hear more than anyone else.

JACAERYS

Rhaenyra was looking for her son all day, thankfully one of the servants informed her that he was attending his Valyrian lessons with his lady wife (y/n), as she walked in the room she expected to be met with the voice of Jacaerys and the maester as they went over a book or something of that nature.

Imagine her surprise when she was met with utter silence, with worry written over her face she scanned the room with her gaze to find them, there they were, lady (y/n) that was resting her head on Jacaerys lap while Jacaerys endearingly caressed her hair.

“She fell asleep, I brought her to my lap, I did not want her neck to stiffen”

“Mayhaps we should wake her, she will rest better in her chamber”

“No, no, she is so peaceful”

He whispered while he admired her calmness, (y/n) would always attend her lord husband's lessons, as newlyweds she wanted to get to know him and learn his schedule and so did he, duty United them but they both craved love to be the one that kept them together.

Rhaenyra smiled at her son, she raised a sweet boy, a gentleman that abruptly stopped his lesson to tend to his lady, Rhaenyra also agreed that she looked too serene to be disturbed, the scene that was unfolding in front of her was perfect, a memory she would bottle in her mind to be able to reminisce with her grandchildren.

“Alright then, I shall leave you to it”

“Thank you, mother”

Requests are open!

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Random HC's About The Cast's Parents

As it sounds. Other Family Headcanons can be found here. Warning, some of these are angsty, including reference substance abuse. Also no Diasomnia bc. like I need to WAIT, no spoilers please

Heartslaybul Parents

Carlotta Rosehearts owns dozens and dozens of health and medical textbooks, but before she let Riddle read them, she went over passages that she didn't agree with in Sharpie.

The Clovers were high-school sweethearts, Trey having been conceived when his mom was 16. Her side of the family is from Harveston. After his father was disowned by his family, her mom let them move in. As a community they raised enough money to help them open a small bakery in the Queendom of Roses, supplying them with free apples for the first few years until they were well established.

Regina Diamond and her (name undecided) husband got into a relationship early on in college, and got married only four weeks later as his family was well off and happy for him to have found someone, and she had made up a sob story about her family disowning her when she had really been the one to cut off her very concerned, very caring family. Their relationship became sour very quickly, but he didn't feel like he could leave once she revealed she was pregnant with their eldest daughter.

Delia Spade's late husband was also her high school sweetheart, but they waited a few years before deciding they wanted their family to grow. She hated that he was in the military, so when he was called to serve a month into her pregnancy, she had a sinking feeling that she wouldn't be seeing him again...and she was right. At least with the military, when Deuce was born deaf/hoh she had a little bit of extra support financially, but ultimately decided she would rather not have ties with the organization that cost her child's father's life. She moved in with her late husband's mother for the first four years of Deuce's life, until she found a small house she could afford on her own for her and Deuce.

Clark Trappola is a severe alcoholic with a gambling problem. Jack (Ace's big brother) spent most of his at home life acting as a buffer between his dad and Ace. Their father blames the loss of their mother on Ace's birth, so they do not get along. For the years that Jack was at NRC, Ace spent crashing at other friends houses, or when he absolutely had to, in the attic of his house because he knew their dad wouldn't find him up there. (Jack helped him renovate it before he left). As soon as Jack graduated, he was able to find a place to rent with a few other graduates, and let Ace move in. Savanaclaw Parents

We already know that the Kingscholars were not the most attentive or fair of parents, but Leona had a maid named Lesedi who absolutely adored him, and treated him like it. He adores her, and sees her as more of a maternal figure than his biological mother. She's very old and retired now, but she is the first person he sees willingly when he gets home, and has made sure she is given the highest quality of care the royal family has to offer. She's also very blunt and to the point, and was never afraid of disciplining the young prince.

Ruggie was raised by his grandma, but that was because his lesbian mothers were....one of them cheated and he was living proof. Ultimately, his mother decided she couldn't care for him the way he deserved to be cared for and gave him to her own mother.

Jack's parents couldn't be more polar opposite of each other. His mother is tiny, she has really thick, curly hair, very expressive, and pretty eccentric. His father is rather stoic and hard to read, always having a rather unimpressed look on his face. and built like a tank. His dad used to be a pro wrestler, but now he's part of a motorcycle "gang" that rides to raise money for amputee/accessibility inclusivity and rights, and his mom hosts art shows for the same reason. This is because Jack's aunt- (his Dad's brother's sister) was in an accident that resulted in her prosthetic arm. Octavinelle Parents

Azul was raised by his mother and his grandma (insert dark joke about his mom and grandma having eaten their mates) who absolutely ADORE him, he can do no wrong. His grandma's UM is called Siren's Song, which allows her to pick up on the true desires of an individual...which in turn allows her to offer the most appealing services to them, or how to make someone so driven just by indulging in the desires they have. His mom is magicless, but has the most gorgeous voice under the sea. The restaurant under the sea is also connected to a casino, which has a lot of the Leech's uh...Help to run.

The Leech parents are adorable, childhood friends to lovers, and yes they have a vial of each others blood on a string around their necks because that's what you do if you really love each other right? They're unhinged in everything, including the way they love. Jade takes after his father, Floyd takes after his mother. Scarabia Parents

Kalim's parents....well his mother, Adrika, was and is very doting but gets easily distracted. She is heavily involved in the textiles industry of the Scalding Sands. While she could leave tailoring and whatnot to her servants, for Kalim, she chooses to create all of his formal (?) outfits for him from scratch. She always manages to hide an tiger face in the stitching somewhere so as to give him a little extra surprise to look forward to.

Jamil doesn't consider his parents to be his parents. They've treated him like a tool since he was young, and he practically raised Najma on his own while they worked. He understands the sacrifices they had to make, but can't excuse the way he was treated. He treats them like acquaintances, and because of this, the little Jamil in my brain does not want to tell me anything about his parents. Pomefiore Parents

Vil's father is not only famous for directing (or whatever it is in canon), but he's a famous classical music compose (yes bc for some reason I immediately associated him with Eric Whitacre shhhhhh)

Rook's parents are both extreme hoarders. He hates talking about himself or home as a result. The siblings he has, he's never met because of the age gap between him and them being over 16 years. He used to pretend he would go on trips around the world with them as a means of escaping his reality.

Tanya and Adam Felmeir have an annual tradition to celebrate their wedding anniversary. They've always wanted to include Epel as a part of it, so at the beginning of the year he assigns them an animal, and by the time their anniversary rolls around they've both made tiny hand-carved figurines of said animal. The past few years have been difficult for his mother as she has been battling an undiagnosed illness, so he's been her hands and sits and carves with her until she's happy with the product so she still has something nice to give to her husband, Ignihyde Parents

Mama Shroud used to be part of a different research lab for blot, investigating the effects of blot on the human body more than the progression of blot and how to contain it. Her parents and Idia's paternal grandparents lowkey pushed their kids to Chat. As they did, they realized that they found each other's research fascinating and resulted in years of pining between the two of them until Mama Shroud finally just kissed her now husband. Also, Idia is not their first born child, he's just the one that survived. Diasomnia Parents I ain't getting into this sorry. I'm sorry. I can't. No spoilers of my queen in the tags ok?? or of anything chapter 7 related. Thank You

[swordduels]

A WONDERFUL DAY, TRULY.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing and all was perfect within such a place. A new world, fresh from the shackles of the old, the witch had brought those who wished for a fresh start, away from the chaos and madness of a world that was cracked, breaking like a dropped glass, it was only a mere matter of time until it shattered into endless shards that could not be repaired no matter how much one tried, the only issues with such a movement, to a better world that had not been touched.

A witches duty to nature and the people.

To protect, not destroying, aiding and not harming. An odd thing truly that one sinful being of greed did not understand. Confiding him into a small dwelling within the forest, a new life was not an easy feat, hardly. The urges and needs, wants and wishes, a new cult was calling, a world not graced with sin, so many hearts, so many, all within need for being harmed and then turned into loyal and devoted followers.

Yet that was not the witches intentions.

An argument, a fight, with insults thrown, from sin to witch, about the needs and wants, of promises made true, of his power and dangers of such a thing that can befall any who crosses him, and a witches concern of a partner who will undo balance and bring endless death, the need to protect and not harm him, to say he acted like a ass, a jackass was an understatement, and she could not have him harming anyone or going to the villages nearby, so she only did a curse, to limit him, into a form that cannot harm any.

Come the morning, she could hear it, the routine as perfect as ever, he would be within the gardens, of this endless forest, trying to figure out a way through to people, always the same, he goes through and comes back defeated and this time, when the wife would step out, it would not be the white haired partner she was linked towards, rather something else in full turn, a white furred, jackass, a donkey standing there, fully unaware of what has happened to it and how much.

It has been cursed to learn a lesson.

(Blame Mort hijinks and stupidity threads of nonsense)

Clarimonde thought the world was a beautiful paradise with lush trees and forests. Their family and friends danced and sang together while blessing nature itself. Father sun and mother moon became their chosen deities. The elders told stories about darkness that seemed like fantasy. Each day was happiness with warmth. It was all about love, dancing and working the fields or sewing clothes. They sewed clothes for everyone in the community but also made some for trading with other communities. Though no one raised an eye whenever anyone walked naked as humans are animals as well. 

Years passed by and Clarimonde grew older. There was still peace among their people. At least it felt peaceful until Clarimonde’s mother told her it was time to chose a husband to bring offspring. A husband? For the first time she felt something other than warmth inside. It was something close to jump into cold water. On some level they knew why it was nessesary to find a husband. How else would the blood lines continue if there were no children brought to inhabit this world? Especially in this case were Clarimonde was the only child. Women were supposed to build families. It was her duty. So why did it feel so wrong? 

She had never truly felt like a woman despite everybody saying that was what she was. Trough the years Clarimonde became strong when wrestling with boys and girls for fun. Thinking back to the wrestling there had been a point when one of the boys had been angered by being defeated by a girl. Why was it so bad to be beaten by a girl? Her mother had explained that a man’s duty was to protect women from dangers like wild animals but it wasn’t wrong for a woman to be strong as it would help her give birth to strong children. He had just been a bit silly and perhaps his pride had been crushed. Clarimonde couldn’t see anyone as their future husband. Even less a future of carrying children. They lay awake the whole night while thinking about every possibility. There was this strange urge to hurt someone. It was a seed that had been slowly brewing ever since the mentions of marriage was brought up. How unfair. Clarimonde sighed and decided to get some ear before the morning sun rose. They went out of the hut and met an animal. A donkey with a rather unusual color. While staring at the donkey she walked towards it slowly. “Where did you come from?” It was said in a whisper as her parents were still sleeping inside. One hand moved towards the donkey to carefully touch the head. Was this a sign from mother moon?

“Are you here to give me a purpose?” Clarimonde sat down on her knees to get eye contact. “I was told my duty was to get married and have children. But I don’t fancy anyone. I don’t know if I’m even a woman. I have always wanted to preach. I know every verse, hymn and story by heart but only men are allowed. I’m not allowed to hunt either.” There was a long pause while they looked at the sky which was slowly lit up by the sun. “I want to hurt someone.”

@fallesto

[sciderman]

Sci I would like to speak to you about your quote on quote “Wade Wilson is half native Canadian” agenda pls it sounds Coolio

i haven't had the chance to do due research, and i don't have a lot of greater plans but i kind of just always like to make wade wilson a little more complicated than he appears, even if it's something he's buried. i don't want wade to be a plain toast white boy. not that white boys can't be complicated, but - you know, you know. i need more to sink my teeth into. and i'm kind of all about wade and peter consistently having parallels, and that being a strange sort of explanation for everything. for why they kind of hate each other but can't let each other go. for why they kind of understand each other better and are so forgiving of each other, over and over.

for - well, for why wade picked peter, specifically.

i think a huge motivation for wade wilson in 9319 - like, a huge motivator for all of his behaviours, and the reason why peter is such a vital part of his journey of self-improvement is that - he kind of lives vicariously through peter.

[x]

peter had, has, or has the opportunity to obtain everything wade wilson has ever wanted. peter embodies what wade wishes he was, and what he feels like he could be, if... if he was dealt a different hand, or whatever.

kind of obsessed with wade "could'a been, would'a been different, if i had what you had" wilson.

so wade kind of becomes obsessed with getting peter to reconcile all the pieces of his identity. all the things that wade sees in peter, that peter buries. and all the things that peter has, that he doesn't show gratitude for.

peter had a loving father figure, wade wishes he had that.

peter has a flawless bod. he should flaunt that.

peter is fruity as all get-out. he should be proud of that.

and – well, peter has a culture and a heritage too, that he's estranged from. he's jewish, but he wasn't raised that way because his parents left him.

[x]

it isn't a part of his life or identity that he's reconciled with. even though he could. it's something he doesn't do much with. it's not wrong of him, really, but peter has a tendency to reject vital parts of his identity just for fear of complicating his life. for fear. fear of being othered.

wade's obsessed with peter as a project, and kind of likes to live vicariously through peter. if he can improve peter and get peter to reconcile those missing parts of his identity then it's catharsis for him too. he can feel proud knowing peter's proud.

i just think it speaks to wade a little that he also has this heritage that he's estranged from. and it's one that can't be reconciled with, because not only is his mother gone, but his community is so dispersed and so forcibly assimilated that there's very few resources left for him to better understand his heritage. so, when he sees peter ignoring or rejecting this heritage that he has the means to rekindle, wade encourages peter. it's - it's this whole storyline i really wanted to do. where wade falls backwards over himself trying to throw peter a bar mitzvah because he's SO invested in peter reconciling his cultural identity.

and i think he's so invested because he doesn't have the chance to do it for himself.

same as him doting uncle ben because he didn't have that for himself either.

wade "i wish i had what you have" wilson, lovingly forcing one peter parker to count his blessings.

anyway this is just a thing that lives in my head all the time. don't know when it'll make it to the blog. but it's in my head, every time i write wade wilson. a boy who was "othered" in his community for every little piece of his identity. every little thing about him made him different. his heritage, his class, his gender expression – his brain.

[x]

he's a kid in a world that never felt built to fit.

[x]

thinking of him, always.

[cherrycola27]

Father, Forgive Me

Warnings: Religious AU! Preacher Jake. Cult activities and dark religious themes. Blood, gore, violence, language. Minors DNI. 18+

Masterlist Next Part

...........................................

Prologue: For I have Sinned

There are a few defining characteristics that one must have to be considered a good leader.

Kind eyes, a bright smile, quick wit, a firm handshake, a charming personality, and a silver tongue that could sell ice to a polar bear. Most people only needed a few of these to be convincing enough for someone to blindly follow them.

But, if someone possessed all of these qualities and topped it off with a southern drawl and movie star face and the wrong intentions, well—they could be downright— deadly.

That's exactly what happened to the good people of Ginger Ridge, North Carolina. A devilishly handsome young reverend rolled into their town. Reverend Smith. He was young, mysterious, —different.

He fixed up the old white church at the top of Ridge Hill. He came to town and invited the people to hear his sermons. At first, he seemed amazing. Charming, caring, sweet. Everyone loved him. No— they adored him—especially the younger folks who seemed lost in their faith.

Soon, he started hosting "special" prayer groups for the lost teens and young adults of Ginger Ridge. Many of the older folks stopped attending after this. They felt like Father Smith wasn't preaching the word to them anymore. They felt like he had changed. His teachings became— darker. They townspeople tried to keep They young folks away from him, but it was no use.

The lost youth continued to flock to him like moths to flame. Blindly holding on to every word he said. In their mind, Father Jonas Smith was the mouthpiece of God, and they would do anything to please them. Maybe that's why after his disappearance, there were over dozen blonde haired, green eyed babes born to some unwed mothers in Ginger Ridge.

................

The full moon hung high in the sky that night in the sleepy mountain town of Ginger Ridge. It was peaceful as a warm summer wind blew in through the open windows of the townspeople's homes. That peace would soon be disturbed by the sound screams and cries for mercy as Reverend Smith's "lost youth" carried out his sinister plan.

When the local law enforcement from the next town over was tipped off, they immediately contacted the FBI. Agents came into the small mountain community and couldn't believe their eyes. Blood and bodies of men and women filled the streets and homes. The youth and children were nowhere to be found. Upon further investigation, they were found in the white church at the top of Ridge Hill.

All of them were clothed and singing a sermon in white robes that had been stained and splattered with the crimson red blood of their family and friends.

When they were taken in for questioning, each one said the same thing. "Reverend Smith preached the good word to us. He is truly a prophet of God. Our souls will be welcomed in the Great Hereafter now that the sacrifice has been given." What was even more disturbing than that were the roughly fifteen or so girls between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four who all claimed that they had been extra blessed because they had been selected by God himself to carry the child of Reverend Smith and raise the next generations of prophets.

The FBI attempted to locate Reverend Jonas Smith after that night, only to find that he never existed.

After months of searching for him, the trail went cold, and the case was given to you, Agent Y/N Walters. After a few weeks of digging you did stumble upon a similar case from Massachusetts, except the man believed to be behind it was someone named Father Jackson Simmons and a case from Texas but the person of interests name in that one was James Simon.

You read each file and realized that Jonas, Jackson, and James all had to be the same man. You just had to figure out who he really was and stop him before the events of Ginger Ridge were repeated.

..........

The windows were down on his beat up late eighties model pickup truck as Jake Seresin drove down the highway. He fiddled with the radio station landing on a Beach Boys song as he drove past the "Welcome to California" sign.

The sun was just setting as he pulled into the small seaside motel in the town of Del Angelo. He adjusted his tie and grabbed his duffle bag before exiting his vehicle.

"Good evening." The older woman at the desk greeted him.

"Evening Ma'am." Jake said as he walked up to the counter. He dropped his bag by his feet and set his worn Bible and keys on the counter.

"How can I help you?" She asked him.

"I called yesterday. I have a reservation for the next few weeks under the name Saunders." He said before giving her a wide smile.

"Ah, yes, I remember. Jason Sauders. I have the reservation right here. A room on the third floor, end of the hall, just as you requested." She smiled at him before handing him the key. Jake handed her a large stack of bills and gave her a wink.

"My name is Ethel if you need anything, and if I'm not around, you can ask my husband David or my daughter Mary-Ann." She told him.

"Thank you, Miss Ethel. You know there actually is something you might be able to help me with." He said.

"What's that?" Ethel asked him.

"When I was driving in town, I noticed an old boarded up church. Any idea who I could talk to about fixing it up?" Jake asked her.

"You'd probably need to talk to Mayor Andrews about that. Is there any reason you want to fix up that old place?" She asked him.

"Well, Ethel, my full name is Reverend Jason Sauders, and I was hoping to fix up that church so I could bring the word of God to the people of Del Angelo." Jake told her.

"A preacher? My word, we haven't had one of those here in years. Lord knows we need one. You might be just what we need around here, Reverend Sauders." Ethel beamed.

"I hope so. I know that after I'm finished, Del Angelo will never be the same." Jake smirked at her before grabbing his things and heading to his room. He chuckled to himself, knowing that the first part of his plan had already been put in motion.

Tagging some who might be interested: @thedroneranger @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @lovinglyeternal @lovingbradshawafterdark @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @blueoorchid @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @mak-32 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @ohgodnotagainn @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @potato-girl99981 @djs8891 @roosterbruiser @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @roostette

Hope yall enjoyed my unmedicated ADHD filled dumpster fire

[starlightandfairies]

Hi! Could you do a billy request where he gets the reader pregnant and is nervous as hell? She’s friends with the party but he isn’t. Somehow hopper ends up giving him advice on fatherhood? I read an imagine like this and it made me almost cry. I hope this isn’t against your rules and if your requests are closed I’m SO sorry. Thank you either way!

Description: Billy gets the reader pregnant and both are going through the stress of being in teen parenthood. Hopper gives Billy a talk to reassure him of what was to come.

Warnings: Swearing, she/her pronouns, fluff, angst, teen pregnancy, new parent stress and general stress.

Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view

Word Count: 1,535

First Person's POV

I hadn't been feeling well the last couple of days, I'd been throwing up and my appetite has been all over the place. Then a couple of weeks ago, Billy and I had unprotected sex. We risked it, now I've been going into overdrive about the whole situation. I bought a pregnancy test, peed on a stick and I've been dreading reading the results for the last few minutes. My whole world froze as I stared at the results, I couldn't move nor breathe. What would I tell Billy? How would he react? What's he going to do once he hears? Is he gonna break up with me? 

I jumped as the door opened, I quickly placed the stick behind my back, staring at Billy as he quickly turned away apologising consistently for invading my space. 

"Billy, come back in... please?"  begged, he opened the door and looked at me with a confused gaze. I stuck the stick in my back pocket and took his hands. I gently placed Billy on the bathtub edge and then sat down on the toilet across from him. 

"Is everything okay? Doll, what's up?" He whispered, I held my shaky hands, doing it as a way to stop them from shaky. 

"No." I quickly splurted out, Billy took my hands, staring at me worriedly, he knew something was up but I didn't want to lose him and this kindness that the boy held. 

"Please, don't get mad, just put me down gently and I'll help you pack." 

"What are you talking about?" He moved closer to me, cupping my face in his hands and staring deep into my eyes like he was trying to figure out what was going on. 

"Billy, I'm sorry, I'm pregnant." I could feel my lip quivering as the tears welled in my eyes, Billy pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. 

"You're pregnant! I'm gonna be a dad? Oh, doll, I'm never leaving you and you don't need to freak out." He whispered, I sniffled into his shoulder and giggled as he started spraying kisses over my face. 

"You're gonna be a mum! I'm gonna be a dad! Oh, I promise you that I will look after you - hand and foot." 

Billy has been great since we found out, he's been taking a couple of extra shifts at work, and he's been helping me with getting the right baby furniture. I'm now three months pregnant and my bump is only just starting to get noticeable. Yet still good enough to be hidden, I'm so nervous and so scared about having this baby, how am I meant to be a mum? I don't know anything about raising a child, I'm only a teen and I'm already freaking out about supporting my baby finically. 

"Doll, stop worrying, you are gonna be an excellent mother. I can see you picking flowers with our little girl or boy, I can see you protecting them from the scary stuff out there. I can see you reading your favourite stories, telling them who to hate and who to love. You're gonna be awesome, I love you and you don't need to worry." He whispered coming up from behind, hugging me gently, not wanting to squeeze my stomach. I giggled as he kissed the side of my forehead and took my hands, leading me to the car, so we could get Max. 

With the adventures that take place here, the party refuse to let me help out until I have the baby, I can only be the communication of the expo. Dustin had become the most protective, the sweet boy making sure I didn't injure myself and babying me more than Billy has. He's been pissing Billy off, but he's been a real sweetheart about he's taken it out with the party and treated them as nice as he could before he lost his shit. I know Billy's also been really nervous, he's been promising to not ever be like his father but he still worries about making sure to not be a deadbeat dad and wanting us to have a secure and happy home life. 

I've caught him staying up super late, reading parenting books, counting money to put aside and putting together a bag for when the baby is due to come and he's already taking it everywhere with us. Billy has been protective, as well as more responsible, he's not smoking anymore nor is he drinking to the extent that he did. The boy doesn't get in any fights anymore unless it's to defend my honour. 

I laughed as Dustin took my hands, dragging me away from Billy and showing me one of his games that he won a high score on. 

Billy's POV 

She's perfect, I love her, I worry for her and I worry about her not being safe. I want her to be happy and I don't know anything about raising a baby! What the hell am I supposed to do? I grew up with a father who's a dirtbag, my mum left earlier on and I've been a real asshole, I know that there's no way I'll be my dad and that I don't need to worry about how Y/N would be with the baby. She's already great with Max's friends and is so much better in general than I could ever really be. 

"You good there, kid?" I looked at Hopper, he must've been here to get El, I shook my head and watched as Y/N cheered Dustin on, praising him for something he did in the game. 

"No, not at all, what am I meant to do for her? She's freaking out, but she's been doing her best to be happy about the whole ordeal and I don't even know the next thing about raising a kid. I've been a shit brother to Max, definitely don't have role model parents. I don't want to end up like my father, it's everything but who I want to be and that girl deserves someone who knows what they're doing. I've built a crappy crib, I've been going through all the books and it's not helping." I didn't mean to spill out all my emotions to him and so I continued rambling random bottled-up bullshit. 

"Billy, you don't need to worry, you're gonna suck and you're gonna fail but you're gonna learn from those mistakes. Y/N is gonna be lucky with you, Billy, you are already a better man than your father is and I know you would never hurt that girl or the baby. If you have a girl, you're gonna be so lost once she becomes a preteen, you won't know shit and she'll expect you to know what's happening. It's gonna be scary once she goes through her first period or any other girlie stuff. You'll interrogate her date when they come to the door, you'll then comfort her when she goes through all her break-ups. If you have a boy, you'll do stupid shit with him, Y/N will scold you both she'll tell you that she's right and then when you fail at the stupid shit she'll tell you that she was." I chuckled at his words, knowing that Hopper had a point and I could see Y/N doing all that stuff. 

"You'll raise the boy in a comforting environment, you'll worry that if you scold him for doing something wrong that you could cross the realms of your father but you never will. Your kid will hate you when you ground them, but they'll still love you and you have Y/N at your side who will reassure you about what you need to do and you'll have a good cop bad cop routine. You're gonna be so scared every day, you'll never know what's going to happen next but that's the good thing about parenthood." Y/N walked over, waiting to make sure we weren't talking and kissed my cheek as I wrapped an arm around her waist. 

"How are you doing, Y/N?" Hopper asked, she smiled and nodded. 

"Good, thank you and yourself?" I loved this about her, she always checked in on people and it was just hired wired into her, Hopper nodded and gave me a look before he walked away. 

"What about you?" I stared at her, smiling happily and kissed her forehead. The girl took my hand, chuckling as she started swinging my hands around. 

I thought about Hopper's words, it was reassuring even though it was stressful. Yet, Y/N was already perfect and I was suddenly feeling so much more confident with raising the baby with the girl. 

[chaifootsteps]

There are a plethora of issues regarding Vivziepop's writing, but the one that really stands out to me is her lack of themes. She has ideas, occasionally she has something to say, but she has no themes.

If you don't mind my ramblings; I have been considering an AU that is effectively divorced from the series, focusing entirely on the characters Blitzo, Barbie, and Fizzarolli. In brainstorming the story, I have been able to streamline the narrative to 3 core themes.

Masculinity, Control/Power, and Belonging.

Everything in the story is connected to one or more of these themes in regards to the characters and their motivations. Even side characters are wholly infused with these three concepts.

In my AU, FizzaRolli is not a performer, but a stray child with a group of other feral children Lord of the Flies. Blitz is the son of a circus owner who craves his father's approval even as he resents him. Barbie is an up and coming starlet brutally managed by her father who effectively curates her sense of identity as she creeps closer to the spotlight.

Much of Blitzo's story focuses on a young man coming into his own in a world that runs on toxic masculinity, balanced out by the guidance and love of his sickly mother whom he cares for. He's a young adult figuring out himself in a world and community who keeps telling him what he should be. Sub Themes of responsibility, respect, strength and the abuse of power are key cornerstones of his story.

Meanwhile FizzaRolli is the foil of Blitz's story. An orphan without parental guidance living out his coming of age in a Teenage Wasteland. Additionally, Fizz is gay, meaning his queerness colors over the themes in a fundamental way. Being in a Teenage Wasteland, Fizz is effectively in the closet because of how queerness can change others perception of him. And weakness often is associated with queerness, which has no place in a micro-society that elevates this toxic, Fight Club-esque concept of masculinity and belonging. Fizz seems to belong, carve out a space for himself in his community, but struggles come into himself. Especially because underneath it all is a severely traumatized child who never got to be a kid long enough to learn how to be a man.

And from the far other side, Barbie's relationship to these themes comes from the viewpoint of living under the patriarchy as a young woman. How girls are raised to cater to the needs of men, treated as glorified children unless they "prove" themselves over things that many men are merely handed. Her father prioritized her career above and beyond her as a person. While that isn't a trait inherently based in sexism, how he curates her life and downplays her desires and intelligence is rooted mainly in her being his daughter and thus not expected to "step out" into her own like her twin. Leaving her feeling impotent, infantalized and resentful even as she is held on a pedestal.

Control over one's self, perception, and direction.

How masculinity fosters respect and responsibility for young boys while simultaneously threatening punishment for not meeting or stepping outside of certain expectations. Especially the competitive aggression and emotional warfare in toxic masculinity

And a sense of belonging, be it in a community or an identity.

Themes help maintain a cohesion to a story, helps the characters feel interconnected and the world lived in regardless of how much emphasis is placed outside the main cast. It also helps ground the ideas of characters in an abstract way that doesn't place pressure to "prove" to the audience a character does fit the traits you as an author see in them. Most of all, it better enabled the author to pivot viewpoints and easily switch between characters so that they feel individual and not that there is a singular "voice" speaking behind them. It creates a unique soul rather than an empty skin suit for the author to don.

Sorry for the long rant.

No worries, Anon. Thanks for the ramble, it was an interesting read!

[moongothic]

You know, S-Crocodile has the potential to be an interesting addendum for Crocodad bc Crocodile just learned that his son is alive, and then two years after that, boom: clone Lunarian baby (who's also technically kinda sorta Luffy's half-brother?). The thing is, even if Crocodile bridges the gap between him and Luffy, Luffy's not the baby boy that Crocodile lost so long ago. He can take care of himself, has an entire crew to lead, and they may not see each other except for rare occasions. Crocodile didn't get to raise Luffy and will never get that time back. But S-Crocodile is a still a child who will likely have zero clue what to do without the programming and, since baby crocodiles are famous for loudly calling out for their mothers, may be desperate for a parental figure.

S-Crocodile is not a replacement for Luffy by any means, but more like a second kid had later in life who Crocodile was never expecting but who gives him the chance to parent in a way that he couldn't before.

See this is a much sweeter idea than me being like "what if Crocodile dies without getting to really experience being loved by his family/a community and have people care about him and so instead Luffy/other people end up projecting those feelings onto S-Croc and make sure he gets the love and community Crocodile never got to have"

Everytime I think about the lost time Crocodad implies I just die a little inside. Like Dragon might not have gotten to be with his son either, but at least he got to spy on Luffy on occassion, at least he got to check on him from afar and see him, know how he was doing, at least he knew Luffy's name. Crocodile didn't get any of that, and never will. Like you said, that time has been lost, and this hourglass can't be turned back and reset.

What is interesting though is that the Seraphim are supposed to have the personality traits of the OGs. Crocodile is quite independent, so I feel like S-Croc should be (or at least want to be, so he can appear strong etc) independent too, right? So S-Croc might want to be kind of a lone wolf, even if deep down he was sad due to his loneliness?

What's more though is that indeed, we don't know if S-Croc is pre-T or male (since he was made from post-T Croc DNA, and we don't know if Iva-chan's HRT affects DNA/those changes applied to the Seraphim). 'Cause if S-Croc is pre-T, Crocodile should know and understand how dysphoria is gonna hit S-Croc as he gets older (which is gonna be soon, since the Seraphim age faster). And like. I could see Crocodile just feeling bad for his Mini-Me because of that. I could imagine Crocodile just dragging S-Croc to Iva-chan (if there's an opportunity for it) and get that clone some T, spare him from going through the wrong puberty etc.

Point is, I feel like if Crocodile did somehow end up taking care of his Mini-Me, it might not be because S-Croc expressed a need for it. But it might be because Crocodile would be forced to reflect on his own feelings, knowing and understanding full-well how S-Croc would feel (be it about gender or loneliness), and just. Let the Dad Instincts take over, regardless of if the Seraphim likes it or not?