#but that makes its issues all the more glaring to me sadly :(

[yuridovewing]

Augh I am thinking about Legends Darkstalker now and I'm just like. Augh. There's a lot I'm still fond of but other moments have me looking at Tui like Why.

[vaokses]

Never enough for both (Pirtir, Ch.4)

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Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Both sides of the family are reunited in King's Landing to formally announce the betrothal and start the celebrations leading up to the wedding.

Word Count: 7.7k (sorry, if long chapters like this bother you, I can try to make future ones shorter or divide them in parts, let me know)

Warnings: Topic of arranged/forced marriage. Usual Targaryen incest stuff. Hints at alcohol consumption in unhealthy manners. I love Maris Baratheon, so she's here, though not in all her glory as she's not taunting a man into kinslaying, sadly. ✨Childhood Companions✨. Both sides of this family are messy and annoying, and I hope I showed that properly here.

A/N: Sorry for the late update! I think I'll change uploads for this story to Sundays instead of Saturdays. Hope you enjoy!

This chapter includes some stuff also mentioned/explained in How long this love can hold its breath, a prequel oneshot in Aegon's perspective.

Title is from "So, here you are, too foreign for home, too foreign for here. Never enough for both." By Ljeoma Umebinyuo.

Your morning tea with the Queen is followed by the announcement that the Velaryon fleet -and by extension your family- can be seen quickly approaching the city, with six dragons flying alongside the boats. 

You got to meet the Velaryons that arrive on the port, which are the ones sailing from Driftmark, as your mother and the rest have decided to enter the city through the Dragonpit. To your surprise, Corlys is there to greet you, after a long absence at sea. 

Baela makes very unsubtle attempts to return to the Keep on your carriage with you alone, so after a quick greeting of Princess Rhaenys and the Sea Snake, you promise to meet with them later and enter the carriage with Baela. 

Sitting across from her, you keep silent as you watch her, as you notice her uncharacteristically falter, lowering her eyes to her fidgeting hands.  

“Corlys and Rhaenys aren’t getting along, for obvious reasons. They aren’t the only ones,” She informs you. “Daemon and your mother are…at odds with one another.” 

“And you know this how, exactly?” 

“I can hear the shouting all the way from Driftmark,” She jests, the glint of defiant humor shining in her dark eyes. A breath, and she explains, “Rhaena sent a raven, told me that father was furious that this was allowed to go on.” 

“‘This’?” 

“Your marriage to Aegon.” 

“But it has been months in the planning.” 

“Perhaps Daemon hoped for an…alternate solution to present itself,” She shrugs, “We both know Father would have sent you here to kill him, not marry him.” 

You chuckle humorlessly, “I shall be on the lookout for new orders, then.” 

Instead of joking along, Baela turns to you then, dark eyes slightly narrowed. 

“Would you follow such orders?” 

You offer a smile again, but you know better than to expect her to fold. 

Still, you attempt, “Did Daemon give you orders to ask this?” 

“No, I’m just…curious. If he had ordered you to kill them, any of them, of your…childhood companions, would you have?” 

“It is a bit late to send Vermithor and I against Sunfyre and Aegon, or Dreamfyre and Helaena. We’d win, though.” 

“Undoubtedly. But that wasn’t what I asked.” 

“Daemon has issued no orders.” 

She is more alike her father than she knows, especially when she’s on a hunt. They track weakness like bloodhounds, and they don’t cease on their chase once they’ve caught a scent. 

She presses, “Perhaps because he knows you wouldn’t obey.” 

“I have always done as was asked of me.” 

“Have you?” Baela asks. While you admire her spirit, you do not intend to entertain accusations, and you turn to her with a glare that she smiles at. Bowing her head slightly, she amends, “I am not implying disloyalty, I just…I think you believe yourself less…unyielding than you actually are. I think you don’t like to admit you have ambitions of your own.” 

It is difficult for you, even now, to push back the voice that reminds you that you have been too careless, too trusting, and you have allowed Baela to see more than she should have, more than it was useful for her to see. To lie well you must never be defined or remembered, Lady Mysaria told you years ago, an ordinary face is lost in a crowd. 

And despite Baela being one of the only people you’ve been able to count on as a constant, despite the fact that by blood and love you are bound to one another, despite knowing deep in your bones that you can count on her to have your back come what may; you resent the realization that she sees in you something you didn’t intend for her to, something that isn’t useful for her to see. You do not know what to do, at the threat that she might have seen you, and might have remembered you. 

“My ambitions are to support my House and my mother. I have done only what was asked of me.” 

“Were you asked to promise love to Alasdair Tyrell in order to have him sail to the Shield Islands and turn them to your cause? Were you asked to use Cragan Stark’s…friendship with Jacaerys to force his hand when he refused to offer a proposal of marriage?”  

If Alasdair Tyrell hadn’t sailed to the Shield Islands with the Redwyne fleet and turned them to your cause, you would have no solid argument against Lady Mysaria and her wish to marry you to him. If Cregan Stark hadn’t issued a proposal of marriage you would have had to trust only in your mother’s choices to keep the North. Either alternative would mean relinquishing control, would mean uncertainty, powerlessness, and you were unwilling to even entertain the possibility. 

“I did not lie to Alasdair, my affections were honest,” At her look, you concede, “I care for him, even if I do not love him. And I merely…discussed with Cregan the realities of our expectations of one another, which he found agreeable enough to issue a proposal.” 

“Hm,” There’s a smile on her lips that she learned neither from her father or her mother, but from her grandmother. The smile of a spider with an insect caught on its web. “How convenient, then, that in your honesty you earned yourself the Reach and the North.” 

“I don’t appreciate accusations,” You dismiss, rolling your eyes at her answering chuckle. “When Vaemond plotted with Oldtown to challenge my brother’s claim to the Salt Throne, it was you who asked me to deal with it, it was you who told Daeron Velaryon I was to entertain his proposal of marriage to get him to share his father’s secrets.” 

“You choose to embody a weapon, and you mind being wielded?” She asks, hints of laughter still clinging to her tone. Baela shrugs one shoulder. “I am not judging you, so you can stop glaring at me. If anything, I admire it.” 

“Do you?” 

“While Vhagar lives, you are not yet the greatest power in the Realm. Daemon would have you kill the hoary old bitch, and I might agree with his strategy, but…I commend you for yours.” 

“Hm.” 

She chuckles again, “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Pout when I remind you of a truth you mislike hearing,” She says, “Gods, you and your brother are more alike than you like to admit, did you know?” 

All too eager to put an end to this conversation, you divert it towards Jace, and say, 

“My mother should be arriving soon with Daemon, Rhaena, and my brothers. The Queen said they are to…start the celebrations today, if the King is well enough.” 

“Is it too much to ask that they don’t arrive at all? None of your brothers should be coming here, not to mention our sister.” 

“Your s-…” 

Baela dismisses your words with a gesture of her hand, “Don’t bother.” 

You decide not to fight this unending battle today at least, and lean your head back against the seat, regarding her quietly for a few moments.  

“They have no choice but to be here, it would send the wrong message if my family fails to attend my wedding,” You say, but she presses her lips together, answering with nothing but a short grunt. “What troubles you, Baela?” 

“There are too many of us together in the same place,” She tells you, as if it is obvious. She looks out at the passing streets. “I doubt an eye is all someone will lose this time.” 

Your brow furrows. 

“You worry me.” 

She offers only a smile in return, confident and sly. 

“I assure you it is mutual, sister.” 

“Stop that.” 

“Make me.” 

 ___ 

Your mother and brothers -and you assume Daemon alongside them, you haven’t seen him as of yet- choose to spend the better part of the morning and noon with your grandsire. They remain by him as the gathering of members of the Great and Noble Houses of Westeros on the Keep grows, the highborn within the Keep and the lowborn outside of it waiting for their King to announce his son’s wedding celebrations, to write in stone the union they have known or suspected about for months now. 

Your eye catches on Mina Redwyne, second eldest of House Redwyne, as she talks with two of the Four Storms. Well, your eye doesn’t catch on her, but on the deep emerald dress she has chosen to wear. 

She notices your eyes on her, and turns to you with the clear intent to approach you. 

Turning to accept the servants offered glass of wine, you look at Baela, Rhaena, and Rhaenys and mouth save me. Before they can answer with anything other than the laugh Baela hides behind her hand, the ladies reach you. 

“Princess,” Mina greets, echoed by Maris and Cassandra Baratheon. “My congratulations on your betrothal. May the Seven bless you both.” 

You nod with a little hum, taking a sip of wine to try and dislodge the knot in your throat. It hasn’t gotten any easier to hear people speak of your betrothal, even now, just shy of having the King announce seven days of festivities before the wedding is to take place. 

“Thank you, my Lady,” You agree, smile in place, “It seems the both of us meet only for wedding celebrations as of late. First your brother’s in the Arbor, and now mine.” 

“How could I forget?” She replies. “In a sea of green and burgundy, there you were, wearing red. I can’t say I recall you ever wearing something that wasn’t red. Or black.” 

Of course she hasn’t, there was a reason for your tour and everything about it, from the servants that accompanied you to the clothes you were, were planned in order to send a message. And she knows that. 

Doing your best to mask the tiredness at the game she has only just started, you smile and say, 

“I am proud to wear my House’s colors. As any Lady should.” 

“Not all of us can afford to, Princess,” Maris Baratheon reminds you, sly smile curving at her lips, eyes trailing over Lady Mina’s green dress. “What with the mad race to be married off like cattle and all that.” 

“Hey.” You complain, gesturing with your free hand. 

Maris merely laughs, quite close to a witch’s cackle, and clinks her glass of wine against yours. 

“Congratulations, by the way,” She mocks. Her brow furrows, and her eyes divert to somewhere over your shoulder as she pretends to look for someone. “Though I believe it is your betrothed I am to extend my congratulations to? The man won a race he wasn’t even participating on, after all.” 

“You shouldn’t scorn the ways of court. You will soon be searching for a husband, sister.” Lady Cassandra, Borros Baratheon’s eldest, points out. 

“Or I could do as you do, and sulk for the rest of my days, mourning a rejection even a blind man could have seen coming,” Maris quips in response, and you share a look at the blatant insult with Lady Mina, for a moment your own quarrel forgotten. “Mother does always say I should follow your example.” 

“I’d dare say it takes more than a shared name for you to be equal to your sister, Lady Maris,” Mina quips, coming to Cassandra’s defense without a second thought. “Your House’s name was not enough to warrant you the proposals Lady Cassandra has received, was it?” 

You care much more about keeping Maris Baratheon, the cleverest of the Four Stroms and the daughter who currently holds Lord Borros’ ear, on your side than appeasing a daughter of House Redwyne. Mina has spent her life on the shadow of the Hightower, you know her alliances won’t change. 

So, making sure to keep your tone civil, but firm, you point out, 

“Some aspire to more than marriage, my Lady,” You say. “Lady Maris has much to offer her House, she can be more than a vessel for an alliance.” 

“Unlike others.” Maris bites out, cold gaze set on the other woman. Each time you spend time with her in court you realize why her mother threatens to cut off her tongue so often. 

“All women eventually have no choice but to bend, Princess,” Mina reminds you. Her gaze drops to the rubies on your dress and she adds, “Even women like you.” 

If your smile betrays something more honest, something closer to poison, then so be it. 

“There are no women like me.” 

Maris barks a short laugh, improper and unladylike, “You still believe humility to be a wasted effort, I take it?” 

“On the contrary, I find it admirable,” You lie, sharing a smile with the second eldest of House Baratheon. She returns a smile in kind, a little crooked but honest. You continue with yet another lie, “I just believe honesty is paramount when speaking amongst friends.” 

Lady Redwyne loses none of the edge, and the way her shoulders are drawn up in tension, ruffling the fabric of her dress, reminds you of a puffed-up bird. 

“We are to speak honestly, then?” 

“I dare say that sounds like a threat, Lady Mina.” Maris taunts, lifting the cup of wine to her lips and looking at the daughter of House Redwyne over the rim of her glass. 

“Of course,” You answer Mina’s question. With a small shrug, you prompt, “Speak with honesty, I wish t-…” 

You are interrupted by a hand resting on the small of your back, startling you into silence. You turn with wide eyes towards Aegon, now standing by your side, hand brazenly on you. 

“My Ladies,” He greets, brazenly false charm on display. He turns to you and bows his head slightly in greeting, “Princess.” 

“My Prince.” Lady Mina is the first to greet, and your appalment at his lack of care for manners is forgotten at the sight of her attempt at charm. Your eyes narrow towards her, but you say nothing. 

“You wouldn’t mind if I stole my betrothed from you for a while, would you?” 

The ladies acquiesce with mumbled goodbyes and promises to speak with you again after the King’s speech is delivered. You sincerely hope they cannot find you. 

Aegon leads you away from them and towards another part of the vast hall where the nobles gather, hand still boldly resting on your back. You make a point to take a step to the left, away from him, and point out,  

“It isn’t appropriate to touch me in public. We aren’t yet married.” 

“Would you prefer that I touch you in private? Because th-…” 

“It isn’t appropriate to ask that.” You interrupt, but a smile is foolishly tugging at the corners of your lips, and he notices, because his own smile widens. You look away. 

“No one expects me to behave appropriately.” 

You frown, very pointedly avoiding the eyes of the Queen and her brother as you pass them by. 

“And if I did?” 

“Then I’d disappoint you sooner than I intend to.” 

As you walk into the gardens, you stop in your pace and turn on your side to face him. hands joined behind your back, your head tilted to the side, you ask,  

“Do you intend to disappoint me?” 

He shrugs slightly, a downward curve of his mouth as he considers your question. 

“An inevitability,” He retorts. A breath, and Aegon offers an arm for you to take. An appropriate gesture, followed by an appropriate title, “Princess.” 

It shouldn’t endear you, it really shouldn’t. And yet you furrow your lips to hide a smile as you take the offered arm and let him guide you through the inner gardens of the Keep. 

“Was there something you wanted to discuss?” You ask, “You did ‘borrow’ me from the delightful company of those ladies.” 

“Not…exactly.” 

Gods, he is such a terrible liar. You mull over is answer, his actions, for a few breaths, as you walk through the busy room towards the gates to the gardens. 

“How many of those women have you fucked, that it worries you that I speak with them?” You blurt out, careful to keep your voice low, almost a whisper. You will tell yourself that the strange edge in your tone, what sounds even to you like jealousy, was part of a game, was intentional. “I know of the…activities you partake in. Court gossip may not speak about my indiscretions, but it does speak about yours.” 

“None of them,” He answers plainly. A breath, a moment of hesitation, a restless movement stalled by the weight of your hand on the crook of his arm, and Aegon turns to look at you. There’s something raw, in his slightly widened eyes, in the expectant expression. “Do you believe me?” 

You cannot help but think back on the previous night, and the careless way he gave away secrets he should have kept guarded, the way he seemed not to care that he is baring vulnerabilities with each breath, with each look. And you have this irrational and sudden anger at him for it, for this stupid bravery, this weakness, this rough honesty. 

More than anything, you are angry at the part of you that envies him for it, for being unable to wear anything but his true face. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” You answer without thinking. You aren’t sure if you’re lying or not. 

“I can think of many reasons.” Aegon retorts, wry smile curving at his lips. 

He doesn’t say anything else, and his attention returns to the gardens around you. It seems only then he notices the unsubtle way the lords and ladies scattered about keep staring at the both of you. 

“No one of noble blood is happy with this union,” You point out before he can say anything, “Every young knight and lord in the Seven Kingdoms is cursing your name, most likely. They wanted…well, it varied, but ultimately they all wanted their blood on the Iron Throne. In marrying me, you denied them of that chance.” 

“I know about being denied what I want most, but I doubt they would care about my sympathy.” 

“Do you?” You ask, the beginning of a smile curving at your lips. “What, as eldest son of a King, as a Targaryen Prince, have you been denied?” 

“You.” 

He answers so bluntly, as if the truth is without its weight, as if it is obvious, as if it isn’t dangerous to admit such a thing, that you are stunned into silence for a breath. 

“You never told me,” You say, “Before I left, you never told me of what you had attempted.” 

“Why does it matter? It wasn’t enough, it didn’t change anything,” You have the errant thought that it might have changed things, it might have changed you, if you had known, if he had told you. You say nothing though, and Aegon continues, thoughts spilling past his lips with no need for wine to loosen his tongue, truths being shared like grains of sand escaping from closed fists, “Refusing them all this time didn’t change anything either, you were still-…But I did it anyways. I was always slow to learn, wasn’t I?” 

A knot forms somewhere in your throat, something unnamed lodged in your chest. Because he is implying more than having merely asked to marry you. 

“What do you mean?” 

“My mother and Otto attempted to make arrangements, to betroth me to some lady or another, many times. I always refused them,” He shrugs, as if any of this can be easily dismissed, as if it doesn’t matter. An act, a mask of carelessness, but you notice the tension in his frame, the way his free arm is moving as if he’s fidgeting, hand opening and closing in nervous movements. “They refused to let me marry you, so I refused to marry anyone. 

“I-I didn’t…I didn’t know.” 

“You never asked.” 

“Why?” You ask, because you might have never asked before, but you have to ask now. 

“I didn’t think it would change anything, I just…I couldn’t imagine it, a-a future beside anyone but you.” 

Your chest pulls tight, and it is once again that overwhelming feeling of the night before, when he admitted to having asked for your hand before you left for Dragonstone. That feeling of flying on dragon back and falling, and landing harshly, and nearly missing a cliff. 

And the words, the accusation, to him or to yourself, you aren’t sure, rush past your lips,  

“You didn’t think of saying any of this sooner? Send a letter, something?” 

“And say what, exactly?” Aegon retorts, “That I asked to marry you, for a-a way to keep you, and was refused as if I were nothing but a boy asking for the impossible? That while you were away, forgetting me, I was still-…that I couldn’t forget? That’s all there is to it, I couldn’t forget.” 

Your eyes flicker between his, and he doesn’t bother hiding an old anger, an older hurt, and they both shine so clearly in his gaze now. Your breath stutters past your lips before any words an attempt to. 

“It wasn’t-…” 

“I told you, I wasn’t expecting it to change anything. I knew-…I know it changes nothing.” 

“And yet we are less than an hour away from our betrothal being announced.” 

“Your doing, not mine.” He retorts without missing a beat, and your short laugh does make a smile almost curve at his lips. It shouldn’t make you proud, the sight shouldn’t make you feel this strange yet welcomed nervousness. 

“If those ladies aren’t scorned lovers of yours, why the unsubtle attempt at keeping me from their company?” You ask, but more than ever it feels as if you’re playing a part. It is a familiar strategy to you, keeping a conversation going while you try to get a hold of yourself again. For the first time since you were sent away, you doubt you can. 

“The court isn’t…fond of me. Ladies like them, anyone here really, they’ll say things about me, things that are…true, even if I don’t want them to be,” He admits. Now it is you who is left looking at him while Aegon intently looks ahead. “If I can, I’d like to speak first. I just…I don’t want this to change.” 

The world has changed, long ago, for you. When you were forced to open your eyes to the truth of your and your brothers’ parentages, when you were promised your very life was at risk if your mother’s claim was not secured, when you were ordered into the Chamber of the Painted Table and instructed on what your use would be going forward and sent off to tour Westeros. 

The world changed, irrevocably, devastatingly, long ago, and it is no longer the world where you followed Helaena and Dreamfyre into the skies or the world where Aegon managed to make you laugh until you cried. The world has changed. 

The world has changed, and yet in your mind only lingers the recent knowledge that he refused to marry unless it was you, that you dedicated all you are and more to forget the foolish promises you made and he so carelessly held on to them, chose to remember them. Remember you. 

The world has changed, and yet he still feels familiar, he still seems to you the man you once knew, who could not keep a secret to save his life, who drank wine like it was a medicine drought, who managed to care deeply and not care at all in the same breath. 

And perhaps that is why you speak so carelessly now, so honestly now, 

“It doesn’t have to.” 

Silence lingers, and you are desperate for a way to fill it, to purge from your mind the thoughts that race in your head and the pointless feelings bubbling in your chest at Aegon’s admission that he refused to marry anyone else after he was denied a chance to marry you. But once again you find yourself uncertain on how to go on, on how to play. 

If Aegon is to say anything at all, it is stopped by a call from the Kingsguard for all to return inside the Keep, as the King is to join you all soon. 

The Kingsguard that made the announcement -you recognize him, he is the one sworn to Queen Alicent- bows once, but remains there, expectant, demanding. 

You and Aegon share a look, reminiscent of both that look as he took you to fly on Sunfyre for the first time, and of that last look as you mounted Vermithor and set to fly away to Dragonstone. 

___ 

You barely hear your grandsire’s words, though you do notice the way his voice is stronger, his frame standing taller, than the nights before. He welcomes the Houses to the Keep, he talks about years of strife in the House of the Dragon being put to rest, he announces your marriage to his eldest son, and yet you can only think about what Aegon so recklessly revealed to you. About what it means, about how he felt, about how he remembers you, about how he feels.

A part of you reminds you that when Lady Mysaria pushed you to marry Alasdair Tyrell, you constructed a lie and sent him off to conquer the Shield Islands in your name, to prove to her that you needn’t marry while at peace. That part of you reminds you that your threat to feed to Vermithor whoever they tried marrying you off to wasn’t a lie, that you meant it with everything that was left in you. 

The King collapses back into his seat, and even at the sight of his frailty the crowds continue in their cheer. Lady Mysaria explained to you long ago about the weight a full belly will have on the opinions of both noble and commoner, and how Viserys’ reign is but proof of that very fact. It is the reason she wanted you to marry a Tyrell, to secure the Reach, the most fertile region of the Realm. 

“I am no longer a young man, and it is no news to anyone that the years have weighed on me,” He admits, voice still somehow carrying in the cavernous room. A pale, bruised hand reaches for your mother’s, and he squeezes her hand in his before adding, “It will be Princess Rhaenyra, my daughter and heir, who will preside over the festivities to come in my stead.” 

The intention behind putting your mother, and not his wife or his Hand, as the one to act in his stead during the days to come is not lost on you, the support he once again reinstates over your mother and her claim impossible to ignore. 

You venture a glance at the Queen, and though you will admit she is not a bad player, she does not easily hide her emotions as well as other ladies of the court do. Yet now, neither surprise nor offense sour her expression, and you could swear there’s calm in the deep breath that rises and drops her shoulders. 

“I’ll endeavor to live up to your example, father.” 

“I shall hope these celebrations are only the beginning of a new age of joy and prosperity for us all,” He says, smile wide and kind. He turns to you and Aegon, and you stare back with wide eyes, because in your head resonates like a war drum, I couldn’t forget. “And I shall hope for a long and happy marriage for you both.” 

___ 

The Grand Maester sent word that the King would not be well enough to join you all at the dinner to welcome your family to the Keep, and though you truly wanted to ask what was the point of such dinner if your grandsire -the only one to wish for such a reunion- was not to be in attendance, you bit your tongue and let the handmaidens ready you for it. 

It is a striking difference, that of tonight and your first night here. Where before everyone was stiffly held to their seats by the presence of the King alone, now you walk into the room and find small clusters of people talking and joking with one another. It is a tad cruel, that the one so intent on uniting them has done nothing but create further division. 

Though, the division remains. Alicent and her father sit by one another and speak in hushed whispers, while your mother stands by the other end of the table with Rhaena and Princess Rhaenys. The rest are equally divided, with your father and Baela standing by a corner and observing them all carefully, your brothers sitting together and speaking with Vaemond and Corlys, and Alicent’s children standing together on the other end of the table. 

But at least now they look like people. Dreadful people, who make it horribly hard to tolerate them, much less love them, but people. Not figurines, as unmovable and as easily cracked as Viserys’ marble ones. 

At the errant thought that lingers on your grandsire’s model of Old Valyria, you find yourself eyeing the table, and you find, unsurprisingly, a napkin folded into the shape of a dragon. 

It seems you were the last to arrive, as they all move to sit now. You let the servants guide you to the middle of the long table, sitting you right in front of your mother and Queen Alicent.  

Baela takes the seat at your right, and you are grateful, for you are certain she knows as well as you that you will be sitting across from two women at war. 

Jacaerys approaches your left side, but Aegon is faster, and when your brother pulls back the chair, your betrothed sits on it before he can. 

Aegon turns to your brother with a mocking smile, and lifts his cup in a mock toast. 

“Thank you, nephew.” 

The taunt is childish, but it is enough to irritate Jace regardless. He shares a look with Baela, and moves to sit beside Aegon, while Helaena takes the last seat of this side of the table, sitting between Jace and Aemond, who sits at the head of the table. 

You watch as your mother and Alicent engage in yet another verbal battle, speaking in the language only those who once loved one another can speak; keeping you all a captive audience. 

She shouldn’t have come here, so far from the wedding. It was a mistake to come here, not to mention bringing Daemon and your brothers with her. 

Lucerys eyes the roasted pig brought to the table and then looks at Aemond with cruel mirth shining in his dark eyes. Thankfully your grandsire, the Sea Snake, has the good sense to smack him on the back of his head and snap him out of any foolish ideas about taunting your uncle before you see yourself in need to do the same. 

You are starting to think no one in this family has been capable of an intelligent choice or has formulated a coherent plan since your mother had you flee King’s Landing and left her father’s court to the Hightowers. And for the first time, you are glad you were sent away for those two years instead of being made to stay and try and manage this madness as Jace has been forced to do, the eldest in your absence. 

“I defy my own father’s counsel in permitting this union, Rhaenyra. Do not confuse my faults with those of the men of my blood, or I will extend the same courtesy to you.” 

Dark eyes flicker to Daemon, who answers to her implication with a mocking little giggle, leaning back on his chair and crossing his hands over his stomach. 

“It is not your father’s faults that make me wary, Your Grace,” Your mother argues, the title a reminder, and it is only then that you notice Alicent referred to her by her name. She continues, “But the cruelty and injustice you imposed on my children, for years on end.” 

Alicent’s brow furrows, eyes wide with the frenzied affront of that night in Driftmark. 

“You dare speak of cruelty, when your savage sons took Aemond’s eye?” 

“I do wish they would give me some credit. I did land a few good hits on him.” Baela, sitting by your side, mutters, quiet enough that only you hear. Still, you move your foot under the table and stomp on hers in reprimand.  

She answers with a little laugh that is entirely a mirror of her father’s, and you hiss a command for her to be quiet, but she grabs your hand in hers and, with laughter still clinging to her tone, issues quietly the High Valyrian for be calm, lykirī. 

Unaware of the small exchange between you and Baela, unaware, it seems, to the entire world beyond one another, your mother and Alicent go on in their argument, in their battle of words and of silences only themselves understand. 

Your mother’s smile is a lie, a mockery, as she shakes her head, dismissing, or perhaps refusing, whatever it is the Queen has said. Rhaenyra lifts the cup to her lips and takes a slow sip of wine, putting the cup down and only then speaking again, voice calm and yet cold. 

“You do not trust me, or my family. I understand this. It is why you wouldn’t marry Helaena to Jacaerys when I proposed it,” She turns to her oldest friend then, and a part of you wishes to berate her, to hide her then, because in your mother’s gaze there’s too much truth revealed. “Can you blame me for holding the same reservations as you did, now that I must entrust my daughter, my only daughter, to your care?” 

Alicent answers with the faintest shake of her head, as if the mere idea of what your mother fear is unthinkable. She adjusts her posture, unmoving again. Though not in the way a stone statue is unmoving, but in the way thin ice is.  

“A mother’s sins are not her daughter’s.” 

Whatever it is your mother is to answer with, if anything at all, is interrupted by Daemon’s laughter, cold and mocking. 

“How easily you change your tune, now that the noose tightens around your neck.”  

Alicent’s expression sours in disgust at the mere sound of Daemon’s voice, and she refuses to entertain his accusation with a response. Her eyes, warm and sad, linger on your mother for a few breaths, before she abandons the fight and straightens in her seat. 

Your mother shouldn’t have come here, not when she longs for peace yet the man at her side dreams of bloodied hands placing a crown upon her brow; not when her sons and Alicent’s long for violence and chaos as young men are allowed to; not when all she has done, all any of them have done, is pull you in warring directions, demanding and demanding and demanding. 

You down the last of your wine, resting your empty cup on the table and drumming your nails restlessly on the glass. 

Leaning closer to Laena’s oldest who sits at your left, you gesture with your chin at an open window. 

“If I were to fling myself from that window, you gather Vermithor is fast enough to catch me before I reach the ground?” You ask Baela, who hides a smile behind her cup as she lifts it to take a sip from her wine. 

Your jest with your sister is interrupted as someone leans closer to you. You turn to watch as Aegon, sitting beside you and pitcher of wine in hand, refills your cup. 

“No, but Sunfyre might be,” He answers, as if it were him you asked that question to. At your look, he shrugs, though a smile plays at his lips. “Just say the word.” 

Stupidly, more carelessly than you should allow yourself, you find yourself smiling back as you watch him lean back in his chair. 

Your smile falls when you turn to see the expectant face of your half-sister, who stares with wide eyes and raised brows. Baela demands an explanation without even parting her lips, and you merely shrug in response. 

Uncomfortable silence falls upon you all once again as your mother’s and Alicent’s quarrel comes to an end for now. You lean closer to Baela again and whisper, 

“What does it say of me, that I am considering the offer?” 

“I know not what it says about you, but it says quite a lot about this horrid evening.” 

You lean back in your seat, eyeing the people in the room, forced together by the wishes and fantasies of a dying man, bound together more so by the shared wounds that the shared love or blood. 

“First of many.” 

“Could I convince you to marry Aegon in the ways of our House and save us all from this circus?” Baela prompts. Dark eyes divert over your shoulder, and apparently deeming it safe enough, she adds, quieter, “Or to kill him? Either way, I can gift you the dragonglass for the deed.” 

She draws a short laugh from you. 

“It concerns me that you have come armed.” 

Your half-sister turns to you, a truly affronted look in her eyes, and whispers, “It concerns me that you haven’t. If I am to leave you here, I would do so knowing you have the means to protect yourself.” 

You shrug, “I have Vermithor.” 

“He doesn’t fit in a dining room.” 

“And I need no protection when breaking bread, cousin.” 

Baela’s smile makes her eyes narrow, and she clinks her glass against yours as she advices,  

“You should ease on the wine. Usually you can lie better than that.” 

“Shouldn’t you be tormenting my brother about trade in Spicetown? Or about those dignitaries from Asshai you mentioned?” You ask with a tired sigh, but still a slow smile curves at your own lips. 

“Shouldn’t you be walking about, charming hosts and guests alike? Almost two years of one diplomatic visit after another, I doubt you spent them like this.” 

“There was something I wanted from those Lords and Ladies. All I want from our family is an uneventful evening.” 

She scoffs, “You’ll sooner bring The Cannibal to heel.” 

The tension between your mother and Alicent seems to lessen, or at the very least become more manageable, as the dinner goes on. The room is filled with the murmur of ongoing conversations, and you are enjoying some pastry with what tastes like candied figs within it when Baela leans closer again and talks by your ear. 

“Speaking of tormenting your brother,” Baela motions with her chin towards your left side. “I gather he’s much better at it than I.” 

You turn to follow her gaze, and find Aegon leaning closer to your brother, who sits straight, frame coiled with tension. Aegon mutters something only your brother can hear, gesturing with his hand, elbow resting on the table. 

“You will hold your tongue when speaking of my sister, or I will cut it off.” Jace threatens, but it seems to fall flat, for Aegon doesn’t even move away, and the sly smile on his lips only grows. 

“I’ll still have my fingers,” Aegon replies with a shrug that only makes your brother further enraged. “Not to mention my c-…” 

“Please stop talking.” Helaena interrupts, nose furrowed in disgust. 

To your surprise, Otto Hightower laughs at his granddaughter’s words, with more warmth you ever believed him capable off. You don’t think you ever remember hearing him laugh before. 

Your disbelief only grows when the Lord Hand move his chair slightly closer to his daughter’s to make room for Helaena to sit beside him and opposite of Aegon and Jace, an offer the Princess takes without a moment of hesitation. 

Jace keeps his eyes on the table before him, both hands on the table and curled into fists, “Cease playing the jester, Aegon. All here know that the mere idea that a man like you is to wed my sister is enough of a joke.” 

“Jace.” Your mother attempts, but you doubt even she believes her attempt at chastising your brother. 

“Our family has wed us to one another for generations. To keep our bloodline pure,” Prince Aemond points out, eye sharp as it focuses on your brother. “I don’t expect you to understand, nephew, but-…” 

“What is it you are implying?” 

“Hm,” He muses, gaze piercing, calculating. “I mean only to point out that you and your sister weren’t married, as Baelon and Alyssa, as Jaehaerys and Alysanne were. It is quite apparent to me why, is it not to you?”

Jace moves to stand, and Aemond refuses to let the challenge go unanswered, returning the cup to the table to welcome your brother’s advance with empty hands.  

Looking across the table at your father, you silently beg him to interfere, but Daemon is entirely too preoccupied with Aemond, assessing him as who looks at a cyvasse table to plan their next move. 

“Speak these falsehoods at your peril, uncle.” 

“What falsehoods, hm?” He taunts, his cruelty sharp and honed like a sword, “We are family, both by bonds of blood and of marriage now. Isn’t it time we stop pretending?” 

A chair screeches against the wooden floor as Luke moves to stand as well, to defend himself as well, to answer to insult with violence. With a moment of hesitation with trepidation widening her dark eyes, Rhaena stands as well. 

“Sit.” Baela hisses the command, and to your surprise both of them obey without question. You’ve seen soldiers follow orders slower. 

It is only when he sits back down that you notice Aegon too was moving to stand, no doubt to defend his brother. You look at him with raised brows, and he answers to your unspoken question as to why he obeyed your Baela’s command with a gesture of his hands as if to say what else he is supposed to do. 

Amidst the tension and the madness, you find yourself resisting the urge to laugh, and shake your head, looking away from him. You notice the smile on his lips, though, even as he too turns his attention back to Baela. 

With one last glance spared at Rhaena and Luke, it is then that Baela turns her attention to Aemond. 

She has mastered the mocking and belittling look her father directs at his children whenever they defy him, and the slight smirk curving at her lips only manages to add insult to injury. 

Aemond shifts in his place, but refuses to give any ground. Instead of recognizing her challenge, her taunt, he turns his attention to your brother again. 

“Now your brother and stepsisters fight to defend you, nephew?” 

“It does your skill a disservice, My Prince, if you believe this a fight at all,” Baela retorts, the grace of her mother and the venom of her father. The way her eyes remain relentlessly trained on Aemond reminds you of a bird of prey on a hunt. “And a disservice to your family, if you mean to imply it is dishonorable that we defend our own.” 

A mocking little hm leaves Aemond’s lips, one-eyed gaze flickering between your brother and Baela. 

“You might wish to reconsider who you consider your own, My Lady,” He taunts. A breath, two, and then his sharp gaze turns to you, before he adds, “As your sister did.” 

“Excuse me?” You ask, but neither care for an argument about your true parentage, and to be honest, neither do you. It is only a few moments later that you understand the implication in his words, that you hear the certainty that your marriage to Aegon will earn them your loyalty. 

Baela scoffs, “You are more of an imbecile than I thought if you believe that.” 

“Baela!” Princess Rhaenys chastises, but she cares not for it. 

Aemond answers with mocking laugh that only enrages her further. 

The Queen reaches over the table and grasps for her son, fingers digging like claws into his arm as she hisses some words you do not hear. It seems he doesn’t either, for he shakes off his mother’s grip and turns to face your half-sister. 

“I see you do not deny it your shared blood with the Princess. Good for you, My Lady,” Aemond’s gaze turns from Baela to your brother, and a cruel twist of his lips aids the venom to drip from his words, “My dear nephew here could stand to learn to be prouder of his family.” 

What feels like a dozen voices start speaking at once then, accusations and insults from both sides, the elder voices -the voices at fault for this madness, attempting to bring hounds to heel long after they’ve tasted blood- attempting in vain to speak over the chaos. 

And in that moment, you are five and ten once again, Luke’s nose has been broken and Aemond’s eye taken, the smell of blood lingers in the air and shrill little voices argue, shouting over one another; and the King calls for silence but they don’t listen, bloodthirsty little beasts, what is left of children after a lifetime of licking their inherited wounds.  

But it has been years since then, and the wounds are now their own, made by their own hands and adorning their own bodies, in some more evidently than in others. They remain, however, as bloodthirsty as before. 

A passing comment by Otto Hightower is enough to make Daemon’s fist hit the table, and the two engage one another, trading verbal blows with a practice older than any of their children; while Vaemond Velaryon’s reaction to Aemond’s accusations make Corlys chastise his brother, starting yet another argument. 

A low call of your name draws your attention from the chaos erupting on every corner of this room, and you turn to your left to find Aegon has stood from the table, and is offering a hand to you. 

“Huh?” Your eyes dart between his hand and his eyes. He smiles, expectant and daring. 

He motions with his head to a small door the servants have used to come and go, an invitation. 

You only realized you have made your choice, that you let your hand slip into the offered hold of is, when you are being pulled into standing, when you are fighting back laughter as amidst the chaos you let him guide you out of the room and into the servant halls that run through the Keep. 

Thank you for reading! I hope this was alright, and at least worth the wait!

Also, to make this shorter I had to cut the “reunion” between Reader and Rhaenyra and Jace. If you’d like to read that, drop an ask or something and I’ll post it.

Next Chapter >>

Taglist: @21-princess @mrs-starkgaryen @nymeriiiia @akari-rioan @dottie-witch

[peaterookie]

Most of us know by this point that the Lupin III manga series doesn't particularly have the best reputation, but why is that?

Is it simply because of the content itself, or is there more behind it?

It is August 10th, the 56th anniversary of the og manga, and I will be exploring the causes of the manga's poor reputation in the Lupin community with as most detail as I can try to be.

Bluntly put, I will not hide the fact that the manga series as a whole contains extremely problematic elements. All three series, OG manga, New Adventures, and Shin Lupin III all contain instance of Lupin and other characters raping and sexually assaulting women.

It certainly gets better as the series goes on. At the last three major arcs of Shin Lupin III, Lupin becomes almost entirely sexless, with some instances of plain pervertedness. However, it is not an issue that cannot be glossed over and it is the by far biggest burden that this series has to carry over its 56 years of existence.

OG manga is the biggest culprit of this, barely two chapter goes by without an instance of Lupin pulling his sexual advances onto random women and succeeding. Those moments of the manga are extremely gross and uncomfortable- and it really makes our protagonist extremely unlikeable, which brings me to my next point:

The fact that the OG manga is the first of the three manga series contribute heavily to its poor reputation.

"Aiee!! No way that the biggest manga preacher in tumblr is slandering the manga! Isn't that out of character!?"

It quite is, luckily I can think. As someone who has spent about 5 months reviewing almost all of the chapters, I can say that I know quite a bit about what it does right and what it does wrong... and it sadly does many things wrong.

Of course, the main thing is the sexual violence, but it is also the series with the least interaction between each member of the Lupin gang, who are characters people already come to really like. Lacking that element takes away what many people regard to be the best part about the series.

The beginning chapters of the og manga are also poorly paced. A bunch of things are going on, and the panelling certainly makes it hard to follow as well.

And to even add to the original issue, the english translation provided by Tokyopop also fucked everything up too!! Many of the extreme dialogues that you come across, including ones that make jokes at Monkey Punch's expense, are done by Tokyopop. Tabbiewolf explains this much better than I can:

"Just remember: a LOT of the…more offensive stuff in the manga is from the TokyoPop translations. I’m not excusing ALL of it, mind you — it was the 1960s and this was an adventure/spy manga marketed at cisdudes, after all — but the script writer for the English version was extremely, uh, artistic, with his localization of the translation."

"it was the early 2000s, manga was trying to appeal specifically to people who didn’t read it: teenaged cisboys who watched South Park, basically ;) So a fair amount of the stuff was very much the new English script, NOT the creator ‘s original work! Some plots got changed entirely just because the Japanese slang from the time didn’t translate."

First impressions matter, and the OG manga makes a very bad impression for people attempting to get into the manga series. Many readers are most likely taken back by how different it is from what they are used to, and they are definitely not going to like the problematic elements.

Those who still try to give it second chances are going to be met with disappointment when they find out these glaring issues are only partially fixed further into the series. Believing that it won't get better, they end up dropping the manga altogether and generalizing the rest of the manga series as depraved nonsense.

And I can't simply blame Monkey Punch for all these issues!! It was the first of what's to come, and he was not aware at the time just how big Lupin III would become in Japan and eventually worldwide. The og manga is very experimental, and you can tell he was only trying to figure out what works. I also cannot blame the people that dislike the manga. People naturally dislike something that is problematic and different.

Heck, most manga fans feel indifferent about the og manga as well, with the majority of them liking Shin Lupin III much better.

I have the statistic right here!!! It's not a lot of people, but there's an obvious majority choice here.

(By the way, if you're enjoying reading this so far, you should totally join my Lupin III server ahem cough cough nudge nudge)

So not even the manga fans love the OG manga. In my opinion, I would definitely not recommend people to read that as their first Lupin manga either. It is the type of media that if you really love the source material in general, then it'd be ok to read.

It is quite a shame to say that the series that does a better job at getting people in the manga, is the third one of the bunch. Most people aren't going to know that however, and they end up reading something that is going to likely give a bad image of the manga.

Ok so I dont have a good segway to the second part of this post so have a panel.

Now I'm gonna talk about how the fandom itself screw up it's reputation!!

(Before you get further I have to say that I have nothing against anime fans, if I do sound like I don't like them it's just sort of poor wording on my end)

Many fans of Lupin III start with the anime, if not probably all of them at this point. This causes a huge skew in public opinion, where those who are pre-exposed to the anime are probably going to view the manga as something lesser than its animated counterpart.

This can be seen particularly in CloudConnection's video of his manga analysis, which is concerningly just a portion of this 18 minute video, but I'll look over that. The portions of the video where he analyzes the manga contain a large amount of negative opinions about it.

A lot of his points are very good, and a lot of them I agree with, like his issues with the rape and sexual assault and how its a good time capsule but definitely not something that people should start off with. But a rest of the points seem a bit unreasonable to make and rather biased, like how the characters feel inconsistent, the bad pacing, and really emphasizing how dark and grim the manga is (it is very goofy and nobody ever talks about that)

And I have to state- It's totally valid for someone to prefer one thing over the other, but my point is that when this opinion is overwhelmingly the majority, it is going to cause the general public's opinion to unfairly be against something, ignoring what it does good and pinning the focus on what it does bad.

That video example was very popular, and I know someone personally that got the wrong memo from it and hated the manga without reading it for a long time, so you can see how it can probably effect the rest of the people that viewed that video.

So what can we learn from this?

We now understand that two of major reasons responsible for the manga's bad reputation is one: the unfortunate circumstance of the OG manga being the first series, and the overwhelming public opinion being unfairly skewed against it.

To wrap this up, I ask you to please give the manga a chance!! Read Shin Lupin first, and be aware of its flaws while also appreciating what it has contributed for the franchise and anime as a whole. I hope you enjoyed this little essay I wrote, and happy birthday Lupin III!

[emblemxeno]

"So tell me... How was it, being alive...?

Xenoblade Chronicles 2 Replay Overall Thoughts!

I blazed through the last 3 chapters in about a week cuz I've been on a crazy high with this game lmaoooo, so here's a last post about my replay of this game and how much I like it overall. Spoilers ahead just in case!

-Gameplay! XC2 is a definitive example of having a high learning curve, but being so exceptionally rewarding.

While I'm less aggro over the game's tutorials than some are, I still agree that the game doesn't go into as much detail as needed to fully exlore the mechanics. A double edged sword of the game as a whole is just the amount of stuff that's involved in just its battle system. Arts, Specials, Blade arts, driver combos, blade combos, accessories, pouch items, affinity charts, etc. Being lax in just one of these things makes the game more of a chore to play than one would expect. But being aware of all of them makes the combat fast paced, strategic, and explosively fun.

But the gameplay isn't just fighting. It's also exploration and quests. XC2 features many gorgeous landscapes to behold and places to visit. Comparing to XC1 though... I like XC1's exploration mechanics, locations and secret ares just a tad more. However, XC2 has the worldbuilding trophy down pat. Certainly XC1 has its justifications for some areas not being populated or the backstory being lined with populous centered conflict, but it is that difference that makes XC2 more appealing in a "worldly" sense.

The politics of Alrest, its underlying message of idealism vs nihilism, building a future that defines and shapes future generations, even the nods to environmentalism and climate change. All of these are poignant and everlasting messages just as applicable today as they were when the game released. So IMO while Bionis and Mechonis are more fun to traverse, Alrest is more fun to experience.

Similarly, quests differ in this game compared to its prequel. XC1 had quests from the moon and back, at times to its detriment, especially the generic ones. However, it made up for that with a strong affinity chart made relevant by NPCs with memorable personalities and objectives. XC2, on the other hand, cut the chaff with the number of quests to be had, but along with that there was a noticeable dip in NPC quality. While I can't easily remember names of townsfolk in either game, XC1 still has the benefit of ties and links being foundational to its questlines that I can pick details and objectives from them out of my brain. XC2 sadly doesn't have that. A best of both worlds scenario exists in the next game, truly fitting tbh.

-Aesthetics, Presentation, and Music!

The game looks great, though definitely dated, most notably in animations and FPS performance. The worst of it happens in crowded city areas, especially Torigoth, which isn't a good sign for such an early locale. Overall, though, it turns out not to be too bad in the long run. You'd expect Mor Ardain and Tantal to have similar issues, but they really don't, at least as far as I know. For sure there's room to improve, but for a launch year Switch title? Very nice.

The ultimate dead horse of this game is its character designs and voice acting. For the latter point, it is pointedly rough especially for the middle chapters of the game, as you can hear the lack of direction from normally great actors. The last 3 chapters though is one stellar performance after another, and proves that talent along with even half decent direction goes a long way, and that it should be a lesson learned that a glaring issue like this not be repeated.

Character designs is touchy obviously. Pyra and Mythra sharing the lead role with Rex while having... let's say 'eclectic' outfits is very much a choice. I won't go into optics of such, as I'm not a woman and therefore don't have the wisdom or experience to comment on this point in a way that's very informed. What I will say is that it's nothing new for Xenoblade, or for the Xeno series as a whole. Is that a justification? No. But it's tried and true at this point.

I like their designs just fine (I also like Rex's for what it's worth). Now some rare Blade designs? Could've gone back to the drawing board. Dahlia is even more of a dead horse subject, but even Nim and ESPECIALLY Newt are ones that I just get the ick about. Talented artists for all Blades no doubt, but the designs themselves are just... yeah.

MUSIC oh god the MUSIC of this fucking game. Great orchestral tracks, electric guitar prominent rock, CHOIR LEAD PIECES, and the solo singer songs like Drifting Soul??? PEAK. Absolute peak. Every track hits where it needs to and then some.

-Characters and Story!

To repeat my earlier points, I adore the touches on the politicization of stuff like usage of mass weaponry, war resources, idealism/nihilism, religious dogma, climate change, and even identity optics. Every one of those points is supported by a stellar main cast, and a surprisingly solid supporting cast.

Rex starts as an idealistic child, with very staunch black and white beliefs. But being mentored by not just Vandham, but also Morag and Zeke, gives him perspective and growth to be the leader and hero Alrest needs.

He can say he's not involved in any war efforts by refusing to salvage weapons, but he realizes that war is more than just weapons. He can have a grand idea of going to Elysium, but how's he gonna do it in actuality. He may share Pyra and Mythra's physical pain, but how does he, as their partner, respond to their pain of being? Their emotions, the fear they carry, how they feel they're threats to the world and are better off erased?

Being an adult means respecting your loved ones decisions, being a hero means not going back on your promises or your fight to do what's right, being a leader means sometimes you have to work with compromises, being the Driver of the Aegis-no, the driver of ANY Blade, means accepting them as all they are, the good and the bad.

But all these lessons would be a bit meaningless if Rex wasn't so in tune with himself in the first place. Rex is more than just optimistic, he's full of love and hope! He's at his strongest when he remains true to that, and only falters when he lets his doubts get the best of him.

It helps that his friends give him something to learn, support, or aspire too, all while having their own developed characters besides that. Nia being of a similar age to him shows how even young people can be jaded by the world treating them horribly, but can just as easily propped back up when they no longer have to fear being themselves. Tora serves as someone who Rex can inspire and share a journey of growth as a Driver, and there's no better path of learning about your own strengths and weaknesses than being a teacher/leader yourself. Morag and Zeke show a positive example of what adulthood is towards the new generations; the former retains her love of her homeland and helps ground the party in reality while becoming more accepting of leaning on others to help without her pride getting in the way; the latter challenges tradition and stagnation, but instead of throwing the whole past away, he wants to confront it and find the most authentic and honorable way to move on.

The politics of Blades' relationships with humans as well... Gramps and Dromarch provide unflinching support to fall back on, being wise "older" members; Brighid and Pandoria deal with the idea of self, the former wanting to learn more about her past despite its apparent futility given the memory loss and the latter going through a then secretive (and possibly dangerous given what happened to Haze/Fan la Norne) procedure because she loved Zeke that much. And Poppi is such a smash hit character, being a composite of impressionable yet idealistic youth, the trials of finding your identity despite abnormality, and being fearful of your own capabilities should they come to harm people in the future.

Jumping off from that, both Pyra and Mythra are just so damn good. Besides their general personality difference, Pyra is surprisingly forceful (chapter 6 climax) and Mythra surprisingly sentimental/sweet (chapter 5 end). They treat each other as sisters because Mythra is just that kind of person, she's not snappy or controlling, she lets Pyra be herself. Both are afraid of their power, hence they want themselves erased from the world; but bonding with someone who was never scared of them or what they could do-something Addam admitted that he was unable to-changed their outlook: they love this world. No longer the pitying "this place would be better without us" type of love, but the "I want to remain and work to sustain this beauty and kindness" type of love.

In contrast, Amalthus is what happens when you let the world's ugly parts dictate your entire outlook-he hates himself just like Pyra and Mythra did, like how Jin and Malos do. Rejecting change by using religious dogma and enforcing control over the world through the core crystal cleansing. Killing Torna's legacy, and blackmailing Tantal. When you hate the world, hate yourself, and have the power to end it, be it through swift destruction or 500 year long stagnating rot, you'll do so.

That outlook is poisonous and is easily spread-look at any far right campaign today and see how they use similar fear mongering, rejection of change, and discriminatory exclusivity! That's unfortunately how a lot of people operate, and that's how people get broken by the systems that harm them and either led to violence (Jin) or wanting to escape by any means possible (Pyra/Mythra). That's why the hero being Rex, an upstanding youth wanting to change the world through optimism, love, and acceptance, means so much as a message. It's incomprehensible to those who don't want to listen (or who benefit by rejecting it) but is given support by victims looking for an answer.

That's the difference between existing and being alive, and ultimately that's what broke me during the final scenes of the game. Malos never existed as more than a machine, basically corrupted by a virus that was Amalthus' misanthropy, but Pyra and Mythra got to live. To witness cultures, meet and talk with people, fall in love with them, have laughs and shed tears. And when that light was reciprocated, they learned they didn't want to die for Alrest's sake, they wanted to live for it.

"So tell me... How was it, being alive...?" is terribly tragic and incredibly heartfelt, because, as Morag says "Most people go their whole lives without finding a meaning to it." I still don't even know if I have mine, or if I'll even find it, and when Malos said his final line that's when the tears started running. A being who sees himself as a monster, who never got to be anything but a destructive burden on people, but who went out with a smile when he realized that had he been awakened by people like Rex or Jin before Amalthus came into the picture, he could've had a life full of love like his sisters got. A life that we all can get. A life that we aspire to and deserve.

How this game manages to capture the emotion of the human mind, is endlessly impressive. A splendid journey from beginning to the end, in spite of some rough spots here and there.

I'm probably gonna take a break from Xenoblade for a little bit and jump back into FE in the meantime. Thanks to all who kept up with my XC2 shenanigans lol.

[bushkit]

Soooooo for this MiD rewrite, I might have replaced Ava-

Now I have my reasons for doing so, which I will explain now. First off, I don't like Ava, I find her really obnoxious and frustrating. I know we will only have one season so she can’t develop, and that upsets me a bit. I also find her “anxiety” issues stereotypical, coming from someone who has been diagnosed. Some of her behaviors are relatable, but there's only a few times that I feel like I can relate to her. It feels cheap and forced to me. This is a smaller complaint, but I also don't like her design. She’s just Aphmau but with magenta eyes and a bitchy personality.

The second reason I changed the Mc is because of a massive issue I have with MiD in general. Harems. I fucking despise harems in any shape or form. I think they are one of the absolute worst tropes in media. In most harems the main character is boring, usually they have no personality whatsoever. Luckily MiD doesn't really have this problem, Ava’s personality makes it at least watchable. However, the other much more glaring issue I have with harems are the other characters. They are almost always one dimensional and cliche, and unfortunately MiD does have this problem, especially with the daemos and some other side characters as well (ex: Jake, Lorelai’s friends, Avas parents). I find Harems unhealthy and boring, as it almost always ends with the Mc choosing all potential lovers, or none of them. Its just extremely frustrating to watch. For this rewrite, I need to change the harem into something else, and the best way I can find doing it is to replace Ava. Now I am a huge, huge fan of the “found family” trope, it is far more meaningful and interesting to me. Of course as with all things it can be done badly but I find myself enjoying most shows that use it.

So lets talk about Jaiden! :D

Name: Jaiden Woods Species: Human Pronouns: She/her

Theme song: I made an entire playlist cause I couldn't pick, but I'd say World’s Smallest Violin (Ajr) and Could’ve Been Me (The Struts) are perfect for Season One.

Background: Jaiden is a thirteen year old human girl from a wealthy family in Portland, Oregon. She was originally born in San Francisco, California, but when she was very young her family moved to Portland. Because her parents are wealthy/of nobility, she's used to having a lot of things, knowing a lot of people, and sadly, knowing what its like to be lonely. Her parents run a business, so they don't make much time for her and are often out of the house. So at a young age, Jaiden had to learn how to take care of herself. In what would be season one of this rewrite, her parents have left on a business trip that will last a couple months. So Jaiden needs to find ways to entertain herself and keep her spirits high. But with no siblings and hardly any true friends, its getting more and more difficult.

Jaiden doesn't understand why its so hard for her to make connections with people. She likes to think she's the nicest person ever, she's optimistic, energetic, willing to try new things, and always willing to help others. But the people she's surrounded with aren't normal people who have emotions like she does. They're all grown adults that are all wealthy and stupidly snobby and boring. The school she attends isn't much better. Nobody wants to talk about Anime, animals, videogames, pop culture, or anything Jaiden finds fun. So she finds herself a weird outcast, and outcasts are targets for bullies.

She’s constantly being picked on by bratty rich girls at school and in her neighborhood for her interests and behavior. They are making sure Jaiden understands that bubbly, excitable, and loud people are not welcome in their town. Jaiden tries her best to ignore them and not take it seriously, but over time those words begin to take a toll on her emotionally. Jaiden no longer enjoys learning at school, she's always anxious awaiting for someone to call her a freak again. For most classes, she's picked on even by teachers. Except for her P.E class, more specifically, Track. Jaiden can run very fast, and is even titled with being the fastest kid in her school.

Her excellence in her Track lessons are one of the few things her family and others praise her on. But it isn't all she wants to be. Jaiden truly doesn't want to have a career in Track, or inherit her family’s wealth and business. She just wants to be her own person, and help as many people as she can. This is even why with the money her parents give her, she uses a bit of it to donate to charities. She loves the feeling of being helpful and making people happy, so that is what she devotes her life to doing. Now, if only she had people to help. Jaiden is very lonely, all she wishes is to have people who are not boring “npc” snobs to hang out with. She manages to make some online friends, but they aren't quite enough to fill the hole in her sociable soul.

Until a couple days after her parents left for their business trip, she spotted five cosplayers in her backyard.

Fun fact: Jaiden was originally going to be a Mystreet oc, but I decided to make her a MiD oc because I fell out of the Mystreet fandom. I also think she fits a little better in MiD, especially with the story I've given her.

Y'all will be seeing a lot more about her and her relationship with the Daemos in the future! Bye pookiesss! :D

[luminlunii]

I have some more details on Sedgewick in Trek for the Truth! Now, two things before I continue. One, no, there are NO horrible sexual things going on here or anywhere else in this AU! Because, I maybe mean with this AU, but I'm not THAT mean! I'm not putting the characters through that. Plus, that just makes me uncomfy, because reasons. So, we're just going to pretend that those horrible things like that don't exist in this AU! Unrealistic? Sure, but I just don't want it. Second, before anyone calls out any unrealistic issues like how humans might be cruel, but they would recognize this as slavery at this point. Regardless of how they feel/see the fictional characters. You're right, they would and it's still against the law in this universe. That being said, this type of situation I'm about to tell you, with the facility and this place, is like a Dark Web exchange. With that, I will continue. I told you he escapes and lost his hand, but there's more to Sedewick from when he was pawned off to another experimentation facility to his departure. He was pawned off to one of the worst, if not the worst experimentation facilities. Because this one, instead of letting illnesses or over experimentation take its course, they fucking have an auction for the ones that aren't sick. So they can take in more characters in they pick up. At the moment, this might be the only one that does this, but that might change in the future. It depends. Sedgewick, being not sick, was one of those people. He was auctioned off to this abusive rich asshole human to be his personal butler. However, there was still some hope. Since, what this guy is doing is still illegal, even in human terms. All that would need to happen is for this guy's actions to be brought to light and it'd be over. That's what Wick tried to do while he was there. Not just for himself, but for the other characters there in the same situation as him. Despite the very glaring warning signs he shouldn't. He starts to collect evidence, have a documentation diary of all the fucked things that happen there. One day, he "accidentally" leaves it behind with a note saying "Help us" at the dry cleaning. A good person, found it and reported it to the police. The police were only doing their job this time and investigated the situation. However, sadly for Sedgewick, this happened before. So, this guy was prepared and made it look really good favor in his favor. Like painting Wick as a disgruntled underpaid employee and a whole bunch of other things. Cops took that and left. If you're wondering, right after this, yes, this is how Wick loses his hand (or paw?). The guy cut off his hand as a punishment for daring to reach out at all. So, here comes the escape. However, I have like two ways it went down and I'm not sure which one to take for Wick. One is where he poisons all the humans at a party and takes everyone away from there. The other is he stages a coo,the place a blaze and taking everyone away from there. Which one sounds more like something Wick were to do if he were pushed to that point? Either way, he's left and took the other characters with him and ended up at the halfway houses in Canada. Which are part of the organization and are typically resting places for escapees from the facilities to rest before going to the organization. Though, sometimes the non sick ones stay to help the ones who are too sick to be mobile right away. Which is what Wick does.

So sorry I took so long to get back to you Anon! I've been busy with other stuff. :(

I agree with the first point, I can see why you wouldn't want stuff like that in your AU.

And your second point

Holy shit Wick loses a hand.

I don't think Wick has the capacity to stage a coup d'etat. French has so many vowels. So, I think the first option would suit Wick. He's a rich man, so I imagine he's proficient enough to pull off mass poisoning.

[imtryingmybeskar]

Drabble 14 - Surprise!

I decided to write for Zach in this since he isn't on the list.

Zach Wellison x GN! Reader. No warnings except for homelessness and the discrimination that comes with it. Word count: 766

Weren't birthdays supposed to be enjoyable? Relaxing? And yet there was so much to do. Hair appointment, dry cleaning and medication to pick up, a deposit to make at the bank. Somehow all the errands ended up being on the one day you really didn't want them to be, so you decided to grab a coffee before everything else, reasoning the caffeine would be a help for the day ahead. But there's a hold up. It feels like you've been in this queue forever. The guy in front of you....what's he doing?! Paying in pennies?

You drag your thoughts away from your list of chores and tune back into what's going on at the counter. Pennies and dimes are indeed strewn across it, apparently counted and re-counted by the cashier.

"I'm sorry sir, you're short a dollar and eighteen cents."

The man's voice is low, as if he doesn't want to draw any more attention to himself than he already has. "But...last time I was here-"

"Our prices went up, sir."

And now you can hear and see the situation clearly. The slight sneer and coldness in the cashier's voice. The rips in the man's coat. The dirt around and under his fingernails. The faded, sun bleached camouflage of his army-issued backpack. The man grabs at his money, shoves it back into his pockets, and stalks off without another word.

You buy your coffee and ask the cashier to give you wherever he ordered too, though you hold out little hope that he will still be in the area when you finally emerge from the coffee shop. Hands full, you follow in the direction he went until you come upon a park a couple of minutes later. He is sitting on a bench beside a fountain, bag at his feet and scowling darkly at an extremely tattered book as if it were the one who had offended him.

"Uh...excuse me?" you say as you approach. His head snaps up, eyes boring into you, seeming to size you up completely with just one ferocious look. "I...I hope I'm not intruding but...um...I was behind you in the coffee shop just now and I...I just..." Words failing you in the face of your flustered embarrassment, you hold out the coffee to him.

He glares and it, and then squints at you. "No thanks," he says gruffly. "I don't need charity."

"Oh! It's not...I mean..." But he's already looking back at his book, though his eyes don't seem to be actually moving over the page. "It's not charity," you explain, "its my birthday, and I had some extra money on me and wanted to do something for someone else. But if you don't want it, I can-"

"It's your birthday?" The man looks up at you again, his big brown eyes full of surprise. You nod. "Well, how about that? Its mine too."

"Really?" you smile, "Well then you should definitely take this as well." You place his coffee next to him on the bench and hold out the paper bag containing the slice of chocolate fudge cake you had bought on a whim. Still he hesitates, though you can see the longing in his eyes at the delicious smell coming from the bag. "If its your birthday you deserve a treat," you say softly.

He smiles up at you, suddenly looking a decade younger. "Thank you," he says hoarsely as he accepts the bag and the coffee. "I'll admit its been a while since I had cake."

"Everyone deserves cake on their birthday," you insist. "And," you continue, "A gift too." You rummage in your purse and produce a book from it. "Sorry its not wrapped," you offer with a wry smile.

"Oh no, I couldn't-" he begins.

"Please. I've been carrying it around for three weeks meaning to begin it and I haven't. Someone should read it!"

The man looks down at his feet and swallows thickly. When he looks back up at you the wariness in his gaze has returned, but not in its entirety. "Thank you," he says again, a slight stiffness now in his voice. As if he had forgotten how to be vulnerable around other humans. "Sadly, this has been the best birthday in a couple of years. Not even because of the cake or anything, just because someone's spoken to me like an actual person and not a problem to be moved along." Before you can respond, he puts his coffee cup down again and holds out his hand. "I'm Zach. Nice to meet you."

@thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities

[lavendertales]

Love in the dark: Part I

pairing: Javier Peña x wife!reader

summary: with the impending breakage of your marriage, you and Javier decide to step into couple counseling.

word count: 2.9k

A/N: the concept of a struggling marriage comes from Scenes from a marriage, but I thought hey, why not explore a post-Colombia Javi trying to have a normal life with his spouse? Contains angst so beware! Also, don’t mind my psychological dialogue, I’m trying my best lol.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @katronautt

series masterlist | AO3

He looks around, slightly disoriented. It’s his house, his home, he should be able to recognize the setting, right?

Wrong.

He feels like a stranger. A ghost returning from its afterlife to see the misery of the present that had doomed him. The cigarette feels almost molten between his index and middle fingers, and the nicotine that stains the fingertips and the air suddenly asphyxiating.

So many fond memories in this house, yet the most recent ones are those he’d wish to forget.

He’s not sure when it all started to go downhill. All he recalls are happy times, someone who pulled him out of darkness and offered him a happiness he never dared dream of tasting. But as of late, his inner demons and fears returned, dragging him back into that fiery pit.

It wasn’t always bad. Quite the opposite: it was fun, sweet and intoxicating. She was that way, too. Not to say that she no longer was, but the continuous issues that drove a wedge between them often prevented him from seeing that anymore. He couldn’t blame her. She was just as affected and broken as he was, and she was probably tired of carrying the weight on his shoulders on her own.

But five years together is quite a long time, Javier reckons. A lot can change during those years, and a lot had changed. When he first met you, he’d never felt that kind of attraction towards anyone. It was a slow burn at first, something small waiting to be ignited, then it became the most intense flame that could’ve engulfed him in his whole life.

He breathed, ate and drank you. You were his all, his everything, from his reason to get up in the morning, to his reason for going to bed with a smile on his face.

Now… not so much.

He felt you slipping through his fingers for quite some time, but it was easy to get lost in the sea or anger-fueled orgasms, nicotine and alcohol to actually see it. Then, little by little, the arguments became a daily occurrence, the distance in between you larger, and each felt like they were married to a ghost of their former spouse.

Whenever you talked, it raised more questions and anger rather than providing any clearance, so eventually you stopped talking altogether.

One thing you agreed on was that your marriage needed salvation. Or at the very least, some closure if there was nothing else to be done. So you did your research and found a marriage counselor.

That didn’t really fly by Javier. Not at first, at least.

“Couple therapy, really?” he groaned.

“Marriage counseling.”

“What difference does it make?!”

“I didn’t say there was a difference!”

You bit your lips, taking a deep breath in before continuing. It felt like ages since you last had a normal conversation that did not trigger screams out of either one of you.

Not even those kind of screams, sadly.

“I don’t know what else to do, Javier,” you told him. “Clearly handling this by ourselves isn’t working and we ran out of options.”

Javier threw you a dirty look as you raised your hands, conceding to his glare.

“We have to fix this somehow. Would you please cooperate with me for this?”

Huffing, Javier agreed with a single nod. You were right. You had to give this a final shot.

That was two weeks ago.

Now, as he waits for you to come downstairs, he looks around the house that used to contain so many happy times and feels eaten alive by guilt, grief and immeasurable pain.

“Ready?”

Your voice startles him in the slightest. He puts the cigarette out, tucking his shirt into his pants and nodding at you before letting you walk in front of him.

“I don’t like this any more than you do,” you tell him, unable to stare back at him though.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“So we’re back to the ‘no talking’ agenda, alright.”

Javier huffs, opening the door for you and hoping you didn’t notice.

But you did. You always do. You just let some things slide for the sake of your own sanity.

The ride downtown, being quiet, allows both of you to contemplate on what you were about to do. There is nothing shameful about it, yet it feels embarrassing that you let it drag to that point. You are both problem solvers, big thinkers, and this is proof that even the brightest of minds need help sometimes.

He just couldn’t understand how it all went downhill so badly.

Seems like yesterday you and he shared your first kiss, innocent, shy, yet so hungry. Seems like yesterday that you went on your first date in Colombia’s crushing heat. Seems like yesterday that he took you to bed for the first time, making you feel like you were on cloud nine for hours on end. Seems like yesterday that he got down on one knee and asked you to do him the honor of being his wife, buying the house you had been living in for the past five years and making plans for the future.

Now the future just seems bleak, an inescapable dark hole for him to drown in.

Javier isn’t stupid. He knows his past issues and pain, carried all the way from Colombia, are still weighing heavily on him and that you unfairly had to carry as well sometimes. He knows that seeking refuge in alcohol, nicotine and, seldom, in you as well, is not a solution, but it’s all he knows. He also knows that he could’ve been by your side more, help you more when you were going through your depression.

Even though he’s not crazy about the idea, he hopes your solution brings some peace of mind to both of you.

He walks behind you as you both enter the building, heart in his throat. He’s barely gotten good at expressing his feelings with you, how is he supposed to open up to a stranger about the most intimate issues in his marriage?

He has to, though. He has to remember that he is doing this for the marriage, for you and him both.

You walk into the office of Ms. Lyndsey Pearson, with Javier behind you, sighing heavily and staring at the ground. You realize he’s uncomfortable, but it’s not like this is a picnic for you either.

“Mr. and Mrs. Peña, right on time,” she says and welcomes you in with a polite smile. “Have a seat, make yourselves comfortable.”

Would if I could, Javier thinks. He doesn’t say anything verbally though. So he sits on the couch, to your left, and remains brooding in the face of the situation.

“So,” Ms. Pearson begins, “why don’t you tell me the reason why you’re here today?”

You look at Javier and realize you’ve never seen him so closed off. You’re both out of your comfort zone, but at least you are more willing to give this a try.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he says, to which you roll your eyes. “Married couple goes to couple’s counseling…?”

“Javier.”

But Ms. Pearson smiles, crossing her legs in her chair and looking at him.

“What’s your personal reason for being here, Javier?”

He falls into a deep silence yet again. He struggles to find the words, but one look in your direction, noticing your unspoken plea written all over your face and he’s ready to give it a shot.

“This is a safe space,” Ms. Pearson adds. “We will work together to get some answers. But in order for us to get there, we need to take the first steps. So, Javier. Wanna start?”

He exhales with difficulty, like he’d been holding his breath ever since you so much as mentioned therapy.

“Fine,” he concedes. “All we’ve been doing for the past year or so is fight and… I’m tired. I’m tired of arguing, drinking so I could numb some of that pain and feeling like I’m in a rut.”

You scoff, causing him to look at you. “What now?”

“You left out the part where arguing leads to careless fucking that then turns to drinking.”

“Didn’t leave it out, but I thought our therapist shouldn’t hear about that.”

“No, no, it’s good to let it out,” Ms. Pearson seemingly encourages you both. “Safe space, let’s remember that.”

You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself and organize your thoughts.

“Is it easier for you to express your feelings in a physical manner, Javier?” Ms. Pearson asks.

Javier frowns, staring at her, and then at you.

“How do you know it’s not her that does that?”

“Good job, blaming your wife.”

“I wasn’t blaming you, I was—“

“Just—just answer the question. Let’s not get into this, I’m begging you.”

Javier runs his hands through his hair, letting out an exasperated huff.

“Yes,” he says, head still buried in his hands. “Yes, it’s easier that way, physically.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“It’s… just easier. It’s something that comes easy, natural for me. I know how to do things, I like to think I’m great at it, and… that’s it.”

You purse your lips together, almost biting them to prevent yourself from any snarky comment. It’s become a habit to be snarky, to hurt, intentionally or not. That, ironically and in return, was easier for you.

“You express yourself better that way,” Ms. Pearson concludes. “Where words fail you, sex comes in handy.”

Javier falters, but nods shyly in agreement.

“Is this how you always handle things, Javier? I don’t assume things were always like this in your relationship.”

“No, they weren’t.”

A trip down memory lane is the last thing Javier would’ve wanted. But he figures it was inevitable, going to a marriage counselor.

It aches to remember how good things were and to realize how fast they all went down the drain. It’s like you are two different people, shadows of your former selves, unable to distinguish the person staring back at you.

That’s probably why he began avoiding your eyes most of the time.

“How were things in the beginning, then?” Ms. Pearson asks.

“We met in Colombia, when I worked there. Everything was… dark and bloody and deadly, and… she was the light at the end of the tunnel.”

You hold your breath, fighting back tears. It’s been quite a while since you last cried, and it most often happened because—damn. Javier claimed he wasn’t good with words, yet whenever he expressed his feelings, it nearly brought you to tears.

Case in point.

“She was… my hope,” he continues. “My reason to stay alive and keep fighting.”

Ms. Pearson sees you looking away, fighting back tears, and her glare returns to Javier. His face isn’t hollow of regret either.

“Why are you speaking about your wife in the past tense, Javier?”

Silence. He’s never wanted to avoid an answer more than he does right now.

“You can say it,” you encourage him, your voice trembling in the slightest.

He turns to you, looking as if he were ready to start a fight.

“Say what?”

“You speak about me in the past tense because you feel like I’m dead to you.”

“That’s not fucking true.”

You turn to him as well. “Isn’t it? You say you feel like we’re in a rut, that I am the reason why you feel trapped in your hometown, and you resent me for it.”

“I don’t resent you.”

“Oh my God, would you stop lying!”

Ms. Pearson stares carefully at you both, not once interrupting. She notices the stiffness in both your bodies, the anger on your faces and the fear of saying any more definitive words.

“Would you just tell the truth?” you beg him. “That’s why we’re here!”

“We’re here because of what you want!”

You stare incredulously at him for a while, failing to recognize the man standing on your left. It seems the man you fell madly in love with had been long buried under a massive pile of resentment and anger—among other issues.

“We’re here because you wanted us to try therapy,” Javier continues. “I thought we should just call it quits, spare us more pain, but no, let’s go talk about the most intimate things in our life in front of a complete stranger to make things even more awkward and painful.”

“You agreed to come here, I didn’t force you!”

“That’s because everything I ever did was for you! Every single fucking thing in this life… it was all for you! Because of you!”

“Javier, have a seat.”

He didn’t realize he was standing up, yelling at you a bunch of nonsensical things. He’s not even sure whether he is actually accusing you of anything. He’s not even sure he’s going anywhere with any of that.

All he knows is that he’s tired and he wants things to return to their incipient state.

“Why do you feel the need to say those things to your wife in such an accusatory tone?” Ms. Pearson asks.

Javier sits back down, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans and avoiding your glare once more.

“I don’t—I don’t know. They just come out. It’s not her fault.”

“Apparently it is,” you mutter.

He doesn’t fire back. You are both equally responsible of the path your marriage had taken, and this is supposed to be an attempt at patching things up.

“Let’s put a pin on this for later,” Ms. Pearson says and calls your name. “How were things in the beginning for you?”

You take a deep breath, feeling your eyes get teary again.

“It was the happiest time of my life,” you say. “I fell in love with this… strong, protective and sexy man that makes me feel like I am the most important person in the world, like I am his world.”

Ms. Pearson nods, eyes on Javier for a fleeting moment, then back on you.

“I notice you use the present tense to talk about Javier.”

“He’s my husband and I love him.”

Your voice breaks as you say those things, and it tears Javier apart. You crumble as he stares at you with those large, puppy dog eyes.

“In spite of everything,” you tell Ms. Pearson, your eyes never leaving him, “he’s my husband. And I love him.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but all that time spent in Colombia is bound to leave some scars.”

“Yes,” Javier says, distraught.

“Have you went to therapy when you returned to Laredo?”

“No.”

“Do you think those years spent there, as you bared witness to all the heartbreak, pain and bloodshed, are still looming over you?”

He falters for a split second. “Yes.”

“Could that be a reason for the way you’re lashing out in this relationship?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now that we’ve established this, why do you think you’re here today?”

The eye contact you make with Ms. Pearson feels deadly. It pierces through your soul and clutches your heart in its harsh grip, but you don’t hide from it. You endure it and seek to emerge successful.

“As I said, I love my husband. I love him, I miss him… and I want him back.”

Ms. Pearson nods, scribbling something on her notepad.

“I want my wife back as well,” Javier adds sympathetically.

“And now we are all on the same page,” Ms. Pearson shows a slight smile. “That’s good. I take it you want to mend things as well, Javier?”

“Yes. It’s true she wanted us to come here, but it’s also true that I agreed. I want things to be okay again.”

“Very well then. Until we meet next time, I’d like for you to try and communicate to each other more openly.”

“How do we do that?” you ask. “Whenever we open our mouths, we end up arguing.”

“And fucking,” Javier leans in to whisper to you.

You stifle a giggle, and luckily Ms. Pearson slides over that remark.

“I have a tip that might help,” she continues. “In order to express your emotions better, start by saying ‘When you do or say this, I feel like’, and so on. Respond to your partner by saying ‘I hear what you’re saying, and I feel such and such’.”

“Okay, that could work,” you reply.

“So for instance, Javier might say, ‘when you make a suggestion without consulting me, it makes me feel such and such’. And then you can respond accordingly, ‘I hear you, and when you do this, this is how it makes me feel’.”

“We could do that, right?” Javier turns to you.

His face is soft and caring, like you haven’t seen it in a while, and it makes your knees weak. In that moment, you know he’s sincere and wishes to work on the relationship just as much as you do.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Easier said than done, though. And what you and Javier did best would not suffice.

Not this time.

next 

[444tsumu]

title Not His Type

rating ★ ★ ☆ nsfw content

word count 4,800+

warnings timeskip!mattsun, yes i’m writing that he still practices w the s4, anyways explicit content, matsukawa calls you a bitch, spitting, rough sex, spanking, mattsun fucks you in his car, oral sex (f!reader giving), don't be silly wrap your willy folks

author’s note thanks to @kansroji for forcing me encouraging me to write this self-indulgent mattsun fic, send her her flowers everyone bc this was just muah :*

summary Issei teaches you that the meaning behind the words ‘I hate you’ is a lot different from what you’re used to.

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“How could someone be such a bitch?”

“I don’t know Mattsun, you tell me.”

There are two things necessary to keep the world spinning on its axis: inertia, and the insatiable hatred between you and Issei Matsukawa.

No one quite knows where it came from. Maybe it was your lack of regard for his permanently disinterested personality, or maybe it was the insufferable habit you had of making a comment every time Matsukawa did as much as make a noise— whatever it was, it was a never ending cycle of pure repugnance.

His tone was light, yet knowing Iwaizumi, you knew it was wavering on a more strict tone you really didn’t want to hear today.

Oikawa watched the interaction between the three of you, eyes narrowing as he did something nobody appreciates from him: he started plotting.

Oikawa watched the interaction between the three of you, eyes narrowing as he did something nobody appreciates from him: he started plotting.

To you and Issei, the nature of your relationship was that there wasn’t one at all. There was nothing but an indescribable hatred that will never go away because you guys just physically can’t stand the other.

To everyone else though? In Hanamaki’s words, “you guys just needed to fuck and get it over with already.” Sexual tension couldn’t fill half of the void the storm you and Mattsun left after every exchanged word. It nearly swallowed the room, the only two not able to see it being yourself and the middle blocker.

With an inquisitive look on his face, Oikawa decided the only way to get rid of this long lasting rivalry being now or never. “My dear Y/L/N, bad news.”

The words brought you back down to Earth, making you bite down a glare at the bored man in front of you and turning towards the setter.

“As much as I’d love to be the one to take you home,” he winks at you, long arm reaching out to lightly press itself against your cheek and you already see where this is going, “I just can’t—”

“Tooru..” Your voice wavered the same way Iwaizumi infamously did.

“Seriously Y/N-Chan, I hate being the bearer of bad news..” The sparkle in his eyes made you clench your jaw to prevent the scream from slipping through your lips. “But I had almost promised Iwa-chan and Makki a ride today.”

You could hear the slick in his voice, and you absolutely hated it. You hated how you knew exactly what was being planned. You knew in Oikawa’s stupid little head, he was formulating a stupid little plan thinking things would work out in his own stupid little way.

“I’m not getting into that fucking asshole’s car—”

“Oikawa I will purposely crash if she as much as steps foot in my car—”

“Get your fucking feet off my dashboard.” You hear his voice growl, long fingers reaching in front of him to press the Start-Stop button on his car and get the engine running.

You didn’t mean to press a sock-covered foot onto it, it’s just that you needed to adjust the anklet resting against your skin. You hadn’t caught when his eyes glanced over at the diamonds either, remaining for a second too long to be appropriate and quickly force it’s way in front of him.

With a slightly exaggerated roll of your eyes, you threw your head against the headrest and stared through the window to your side. You were wishing there was an awkward silence to torture Matsukawa’s ears, but instead, his phone automatically connected to its Bluetooth and began to play a song you surprisingly recognized.

He drove faster than you were sure he was supposed to. As soon as you blinked, he had already backed out of Seijoh’s parking lot and sped through the secluded roads and towards the city you inhabited.

Unwillingly, of course, you managed to steal a few glances at the brown-haired man next to you. His face was (surprise) as uninterested as ever, eyebrows resting dully above his hooded lids and lips turned just slightly down enough to look like a frown. Every now and then, his lips would go along with the song and his tongue would swipe across his bottom lip and into the corner of his cheek.

Matsukawa wasn’t an ugly guy. There wasn’t enough hatred in your soul to even try to lie against the idea. He was extremely tall, extremely fit, had a nice smile, and his voice matched his looks. If he wasn’t such a stuck up, emotionless asshole, he’d probably be one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen. If and probably, of course.

“Gotta staring problem?” He muttered, head bobbing to the song in the background and that in itself just brought your cholesterol an unhealthy amount higher.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I see you have a lack of vocabulary too..” The banter between the two of you went back and forth, an awkward silence retching the car’s air after he sadly had the last word.

“I can’t believe there was a time you weren’t such a nuisance.” You nearly mouthed, words quiet enough to get lost within the lyrics of Kanye West, yet loud enough to get into Mattsun’s earshot and cause the car to abruptly park on the side of the nearly secluded road ahead of you.

“Hey, what the fu—”

“What’s your problem with me?” Matsukawa’s words haunted the air, and if you weren’t already awaiting his words, you might have actually been scared of the harshness in his tone.

“Me?” You questioned, using a hand to dramatically smack against your chest and glare at him in disbelief. “What’s your problem with me?”

He didn’t respond, only staring at you blankly and gripping on the steering wheel with enough aggression to taint the knuckles of his large hands white.

“Stop acting like a toddler,” the annoyance looked weird on him, and his usual nonchalant attitude disappeared with a mask of pure frustration that you’d be lying about if you said was ugly on him, “just tell me what the issue is so we can both stop whatever the fuck it is we have going on.”

“We,” you pointed between the two of you, “do not have anything going on, for your information.” You stubbornly crossed your arms across your chest, staring at him blankly and watching his large hand run across his face.

“You wouldn’t even be my type, you know damn well that isn’t what—”

Every word after the first half of the sentence drowned out as you continued to repeat it in your head. You wouldn’t even be my type. You wouldn’t even be my type. You wouldn’t even be my type…

“Earth to Y/N.” Mattsun snapped, glaring over at you and leaning his body back lazily against his driver’s seat. It was slightly reclined back, the comfortability of his position insinuating he didn’t plan on leaving until this conversation got somewhere.

“What do you mean I wouldn’t be your type?”

The words came out faster than you could acknowledge them. You didn’t regret speaking them, but you knew that they only worsened your situation. He would use this as if it was fuel to his never-ending out of fire of an ego and you hated it. The cold air in the car suddenly became more noticeable, goosebumps raising onto your exposed skin and making you feel as if all your senses were being ambushed.

“Well, well, well…” He begins to tease as if he was never angry, his large arms resting behind his head and that stupid smirk back onto his pink lips, “you feel some type of way about what I said?” His voice echoed into your ears as you did nothing but watch him in disbelief.

“You never stood a chance with me anyways.” You bit back at him.

Something in the air changed, but neither of you decided to acknowledge it. It was dark, the light from the dashboard doing nothing but illuminating your features and making Issei smirk to himself in the lack of lighting.

“How so?” He was antagonizing you, itching for you to continue to play his little game back with him because he had a plan. You could see it from the way he lazily blinked over at you, smirk still against his glowing face with nothing but arrogance and faux oblivion.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle me if you tried.”

Those words changed the aura within the car all in itself. You knew the double entendres of a statement could go any way with him. Deep down, you both knew exactly what you meant. Your words remained solid though, eyes staring at him like a fox refusing to glance away from his brown irises.

“Wanna try me?”

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew that. Something about you didn’t care though. There were many ways this conversation could’ve went, but you wouldn’t expect it to go in this direction.

The air in the room was thick, Issei’s brown irises watching you nothing short of predator like. No one spoke after those three words, and faintly, the change in mood also affected the change in genre of music as R&B began to slowly play through his speakers. You wanted to scoff.

His large ring covered hand suddenly inched towards your chin, gripping your jaw and forcing your eyesight on his own face. You weren’t one to blush, but the roughness to his calloused fingers brought a small tinge between your slightly exposed thighs.

“You gonna get in the back or I gotta force you back there?” His words commanded you, the strictness laced within the confines of his voice leaving you no option to do as he told.

Doing what Matsukawa said as if you were following his orders was something foreign to you. The temptation of doing as you pleased crossed the back of your mind, but the curiosity of seeing what he had in store filled you with much more satisfaction.

Without a word and instead settling for a simple eye roll, you kicked your shoes off and found your way between the two front seats and into the cold leather seats of the back of his car. It was cramped, surprisingly cleaner than you'd imagine, and smelt of nothing but Issei.

You would have enjoyed it if the circumstances were different.

Your body sat with your feet resting behind you, leaving a space open for him. The sound of his car door opening and shutting was the cause of the goosebumps rising against your skin.

Subconsciously, you knew were supposed to hate him. You were supposed to despise him for always being such an asshole to you, and you were never supposed to forgive him for anything he’s ever said to you out of his stupid smirking mouth.

You weren't supposed to be hopping into the backseat of his car after challenging him into sleeping with you. You weren’t supposed to be enjoying the feeling of his presence as it finally found its way next to you, the dark tints of his windows hiding his expression but not doing a good job at hiding the bulge hiding in the confinements of his sweatpants.

Your eyes glanced over his, quickly switching between the tent and his irises with an innocent smile on your face. “You gonna take those off or am I gonna have to force them off you?’

Mattsun had never laughed at anything you’d ever said. At least, never to your face. For the first time though, a soft chuckle left his lips as he hunched his body over and rolled his sweats down. You’d be lying if you said you never wanted to provoke that sound out of him again.

He wore Supreme black briefs, a smirk on his lips as he watched your eyes trail over to the excessively large print. His dick was long, curving deliciously to the left and making you fear for your own safety. The thought of that nearly made you drool.

Mattsun made a show of pulling his briefs down, his erection springing to life and showing you that he wasn't even fully hard yet. Maybe you would’ve felt some type of way about not arousing him as much as he was you, and you could thank the pool inside your panties for that, but something about it brought a glimmer to your eye Issei couldn’t ignore.

“Eager to suck my dick, huh?” His words ring against your ears, and you do nothing but give him a glare while getting on all fours across the backseat.

His long torso leaned against the car door, eyes boring onto your frame with a blank expression that drove you insane. You knew this was all an act, he had to have been pretending just to get a rise out of you. There was no way you could’ve missed the way his dick twitched when you got up to take your shorts off.

Your frame was left in a white t-shirt and a seamless green pair of panties known for their cheekster style. He would’ve told you that you looked absolutely delectable, but he'd never let you sit within that satisfaction.

You lowered yourself on all fours once again, holding your hair back with one hand and lowering yourself down between his long limbs. Your eyes just couldn't look away, the large veins running up and down his perfect looking length in a way that made you embarrassingly ready to shove it down your throat already.

And without another word, you opened your lips and allowed a trail of saliva to sliver down the underside of his dick. His thighs tensed up, but as you watched him through your lashes while lowering your lips onto his tip, his bored and expressionless face remained the same.

He couldn't take his eyes off the sight in front of him, as much as he'd hate to admit it. Your ass was up in the air, back arched in a way that nearly made him release a groan as your pretty little mouth left sloppy kisses along his throbbing tip. You used a free hand to run down his cock slowly, hands landing underneath his thick balls and holding them alongside the bottom half of his dick.

He tried to hold the hiss you took out of him, but you used that as an excuse to make him suffer even more. Almost as if it were a competition, you sucked your cheeks in while taking the rest him that fit into your mouth agonizingly slow.

Matsukawa was too big, not that you were complaining. You didn’t have much of a gag reflex, but his size goes beyond that. So in order to accommodate to the situation at hand, you lolled your tongue out across your bottom lip and easily slipped a bit more than half of him down your throat until he felt his tip tickle the back of it.

“Holy fuck..” He breathed out, words stopping as he bit his lip and tilted his head to get a better look at you.

Your eyes began to water, but you ignored the sensation to take a deep breath as you began to massage his balls and lower half with your saliva covered hands. You began to move your mouth in the opposite direction of your hands, touching just enough of his balls with your tongue to get him to grip a chunk of your hair from within your own hand.

“Fuck, just like that.” You never took your eyes off him, and Matsukawa found it even harder to control himself with the way you took so much of him with so much ease.

You hollowed your cheeks as you slipped his now fully-hard dick out your mouth. Trails of saliva followed, the explicit view of your teary eyes and sloppy lips making him groan within his throat.

“Fuck my throat.”

The words were harsh, your expression being just as blank as his once was, and Issei realized he wasn’t really the one in control here. Not if all it took was for you to tell him what to do and he was scrambling to do it like second nature.

His lips revealed that lazy smirk you wanted to fuck off his face, the large hand gripping your hair nearly shoving his dick back into your fresh, wet mouth. “Don’t mind if I do, princess.”

The nickname he called you didn't even have time to register in your mind, the sensation of Matsukawa forcing your head up and down his dick as much as he could being the only thing on your brain. You couldn't help the tears from slipping down your cheeks, eyes opening once again to hazily look over to the ones burning a hole into your face.

Matsukawa couldn’t find it in himself to look away from you. He wasn't sure if it was the tears, or the way you allowed him to fuck your throat so easily, or the drool leaking down into the balls you fondled at the same time, or even the way the hand once gripping your own hair found its way between your legs as he watched you play with yourself, but Issei decided this image was going to ruin everyone else for him.

He already decided he couldn't get enough of you. The sound of your gags filled with car in a nearly pornographic way, yet not once did you ask him to stop and he took note of that. 

“Fuck,” he broke out, eyes struggling to watch yours as his lips parted open, “you’re gonna make me cum,” his words were interrupted by a load groan. Your tongue found its way back onto his balls as his tip rammed into the back of your throat and Issei felt his toes curl. “Fuck, fuck, fuck..”

Right on time, you went against his strong grip and popped his dick out of your mouth with saliva drooling down in a way that looked so forbidden, Issei was sure he would’ve came at that sight alone.

“That was...”

“Not your type?” You bit at him, a mocking smile on your lips as you bit your lip and found your way onto the comfort of his lap.

It was weird, the way you felt like you fit perfectly within his frame as if it was a piece of a puzzle. Matsukawa would agree if he could, hands nearly instinctively finding its way onto the globed of your ass and pulling the fabric of your panties over and over again.

“Never in a million years.”

His smirk haunted you, lidded eyes staring at you once again and you realize Issei Matsukawa is a really hard guy to get a reaction out of. So taking the challenge yet again, you stared at him just as emotionless. Your fingers lifted the patch stuck to your folds, and the trail of wetness that dripped over onto both you and his own thighs was nearly sinful to the sore eyes.

It was hard to imagine taking a dick you were sure you could see in your stomach with such an expression, and you wouldn’t wish that suffering on your worst enemy. You couldn’t believe how much just half of him stretched your insides out, your walls sucking him in and barely being able to hold it in together.

“Don't worry, take your time.” Matsukawa’s tone was beyond condescending, the taunt behind his words bringing an anger within you enough to cloud your mind of all common sense. It was unexpected, the way your body just shoved the rest of him inside of your tight, pulsating hole and rested all your body weight on top of him.

“Fuck!” Both of you yelped out, your hands clawing at his chest while his gripped your ass cheeks apart in nothing but a burning sensation.

He filled you up to the brim, the sureness of him hitting your cervix causing your eyes to flutter at the feeling. You bit your lip, adjusting your body to where your feet were on either side of him on the backseat and your body was more able to move.

His eyes widened in surprise at your actions, the sound of both of your pants alongside the music that was long forgotten struggling to keep you attentive. Without warning, you lifted your body up and slammed back down onto him. The action brought a pretty little gasp out your lips, mouth parted and eyes clenched at just how fucking amazing the curve and thickness of his cock was.

“C’mon baby,” he whispered into your ears, hands reaching over to intertwine themselves with your own so you got better balance, “fuck me like you mean it.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You breathed out, beginning to bounce your body up and down his dick perfect enough to hear the squelching sounds of your wetness after every impact. Issei groaned, eyes glued to the sight of where your pussy swallowed him whole and spit him back out over and over again.

“Mm, what else baby?”

Issei’s bored resolve started to crack, groans slipping through his lips in a way that made you tighten up against him even more if it were possible. Your hands gripped his intertwined ones, bouncing up and down faster than you could probably handle. The sensation of his dick hitting your cervix over and over causing you to arch your back closer into his body as you bounced.

The sound of your body slamming into his began to quicken, the strength of your legs giving up as you realized his started to fuck you back from the bottom and drill his length into you.

“Fuck, Issei…” You moaned out embarrassingly loud, Mattsun’s eyes watching you with curiosity in his irises from the way he wanted to figure out how to get you to moan out like that again.

“Don’t be shy now,” he teased, the strain in his voice telling you that even if he was torturing you with the pounding of his dick, he was enjoying it just as much as you, “where’d all that mouth go, pretty?”

You felt yourself clench at the nickname, head leaning back and leaving your neck open for him to lick a trail over towards your jaw and softly bite the plush skin. The windows began to fog up, the sensation of your poor pussy taking him in and out and quick pace causing the car to jump up and down with each stroke.

“F-fuck,” you stuttered out, nearly crying out when his hands found it’s way towards under your ass to support you as he drilled all of this thickness into your throbbing pussy.

The familiar knot began to grow within your stomach, and your hand found it’s way between his messy locks only to grab it and tilt his head roughly back against the window. A surprised groan left his lips, eyes staring up at you widely with a smirk endured from straight pleasure shot up his lips.

“You gonna cum all on daddy’s dick?”

Usually the words would have made you cringe, and you wanted to bite a snarky remark at him for the name. Yet something in you grew feral at the sentence, beginning to rub your clit against him each time you harshly dropped down as you roughened your grip on his hair.

“Fuck yes, daddy, make me cum,” your words tickled his ears, the moans at the end of each word bringing Matsukawa into a state of euphoria. He could hear you say that to him for the rest of his life, if he could.

“Come on baby,” he groaned out harshly, smacking your ass enough to leave a sting that made you cry out into his neck, “give it to me!”

His words echoed in your ears, your loud cries like music to his ears as he watched you fuck him back just as rough as he was being with you. Your hand pulled his head back once again, his scalp hitting the window harshly but he didn’t care once your lips came crashing onto his.

It was nothing but teeth and tongue, sucking on each other’s muscles and making out as if nothing in this world could ever be right again without it. His hands gripped your ass once again, spreading them harshly apart and spanking them with as much toughness that went into spiking a volleyball.

You screamed into his mouth, words being unable to come out as he began to drill into you even rougher and faster than you knew was possible. Your legs had long given out at this point, simply being tossed up and down like a rag doll by Issei’s strong arms and cocky attitude. You were in heaven, even if you’d never admit it.

“I— I hate you,” you fought to yelp out, pussy beginning to squeeze at the feeling you knew all too well as you stared into his eyes and made him look at you as if he was seeing God, “but you fuck me— fuck, you fuck me so good..”

Your words became faint whispers, stars beginning to formulate instead of his once brown irises and bring you into a state of euphoria.

“Daddy I’m gonna—” The words were stolen from your lips as Matsukawa slammed your lips against his own and gripped your back close to his chest.

“Cum baby,” he groaned into your lips, your own sounds preventing you from being able to kiss him back as your covered tits bounced into the confinement of his chest, “cum on daddy’s big dick.”

The words brought a vibration within you, a mantra of the words daddy and please slipping as you felt the euphoria take over your body and leave you with nearly nothing inside you. Issei could practically feel you cum, his own resolve giving out as his shot his thick cum into your throbbing pussy and bringing another scream from between your swollen lips.

“Take it, good girl— fuck yes..” Words slipped from his mouth without his own permission, the sensation of your pussy holding him within you as if it never wanted to let him go and he really wouldn’t mind.

Nothing but your struggles to catch your own breath filled the car, his own haunting the ghost of your ear as you laid out across his chest with saliva threatening to slip from your lips and cum leaking down both of your thighs. It was absolutely disgusting if you really thought about it, but the idea of knowing you had just slutted each other out so sinfully brought your toes to curl one last time.

No one said a word, and as much as you wanted to comment on how he was still gripping your chest against his own, you decided to go against it and try to find reality from the solitude of his wide chest. You could hear Brent Faiyaz on the radio, the view of just how foggy the windows were making you giggle to yourself.

“What’s funny?” The rumble of the words against his chest caused your pussy to throb once again, and you had almost forgotten he was still lodged inside of you with a load of cum threatening to spill out.

“Nothing.” Your voice was gone, and as embarrassing as it was, Issei mentally found himself obsessing over how raspy it got.

The silence was calm, yet the awkward conversation of what next lingered within the air between the two of you. You knew it was going to come soon, and you weren’t really sure of what could possibly happen afterwards. There was no going back from this, Issei Matsukawa had fucked you so good, you never wanted to fuck anyone else again.

The first to break it was Mattsun, which took you by surprise. His large hands found their way towards you cheek, caressing your head as his pushed you back far enough to face him with fucked out eyes and swollen lips and Issei convinces himself you’re one of the seven wonders of the world.

“We should do that again sometime.” He suggests, bored eyes staring into yours as you noticed the small smile lifting amongst the corner of his lips. You wanted to smile back, but the idea of having some more fun with him seemed quite better.

“Eh,” you replied, lifting your weakened body back into his straddling state and biting your lips as you placed both hands across his broad chest. You notice the way his cock twitches hungrily within you, and you realize you were gonna enjoy this a bit too much.

He’s seeing stars, thinking the hottest thing he’s ever seen is a fucked out you staring at him this way and you realize you’ve finally won. You stare at him, bored eyes and a lazy smirk on your lips mimicking the face he spent all his life mastering.

“You’re not really my type.”

                             © 444TSUMU 2021

[arcadejohn127-9]

Okay so I have a personal head cannon that demon hunters are a thing in the Obey Me World. So I wondering if you could do the brother and undatables finding out that a bunch on demon hunters kidnapped MC while they were in human world because they found out of MCs packs. Your writing is so good, honestly this is one of my favorite Obry Me accounts.

Thank you! It gives me pride for being one your favourites!

I love expanding the world of obey me and idea of hunters is one that seems realistic in a world of demons and angels and just in general, really interesting. Before I joined writing on Tumblr I was actually a Wattpad author and one my books was about a monster hunter who got in a love square with Frankenstein's monster, Dr Jekyll and Mr hyde

Never finished it but it was fun concept so any type of supernatural hunter already just wins in my department

Do I have a thing for making the demons violent and showing off a more aggressive and bloody side to them? Yes, I really do

Warning: kidnapping, gore-ish, violence, religious themes, angst, guns, mentions of torture, long

Your breathing grew heavier as the crushing feeling on your chest continued to grow, your heart slamming against your ribcage. Begging to be released from its suffocating prison. If it weren't for the lump in your throat you were sure your heart would of leapt out of it. 

your feet pounded against the street beneath you; you were running faster than you’ve ever ran before. How did it get to this situation? well, you didn't have time to reminisce but to make a long story short - a group of demon hunters revealed themselves to you and are now chasing you down as you refused to cooperate. they wanted to use you for your pact and you didn’t want to be involved, especially seeing as they were literal demon hunters! they were going to kill your friends! 

but sadly, fate was not on your side. your ankle twisted to the side, pain shooting up from your ankle all the way to your knee. rope surrounded you, you thrashed against the net as your body slammed to the floor. The last thing you saw was the hunter tower above you, the butt of their gun coming down on your head. 

when you finally woke up you already had a gun back in your face, you tried to escape but you were forced backwards. chains rattling behind you. you looked behind you to see you were chained to a cross, both your wrists and ankles were bound.

Your situation only grew worse when the hunter Infront of you snarled down at you. Demanding you used your pacts, spitting on your face. You thrusted forward, matching their snarl as you bared your teeth at them. Demon mannerisms have rubbed off on you but it wasn't doing you any good. The gun clicked, unlocking off safety mode.

Your heart sunk immediately.

"Use your pact or else."

You could only hear the blood rushing through your ears. Trembling as their finger slowly pressed on the trigger. You knew they were going to kill the brother's if you did but you were terrified that were going kill you. You shook your head, letting it hang low as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

You kept refusing to use your pact and summon the seven demons. Every time you refused they'd hurt you; kicking you, slamming the guns butt down on your head, throwing your head back on the cross. You could barely hear what they said, they just kept screaming at you. Calling you filth and a traitor to mankind.

Despite all the pain you were grateful they weren't killing you. You just had to keep pushing your luck. You couldn't summon them no matter how scared you were. You refused. You couldn't do it.

But fortunately, Magic doesn't always act the way you want it to. Your soul - your entire being BEGGED to be saved. You wanted to save yourself, you desperately tried to spark at the chains and remember any spells but your mind was at a blur. nothing was processing.

You cried out when you saw the large magic circle appear on the floor. You tried desperately to close the summoning circle, cursing to yourself. You demanded your magic to listen to you but it wouldn't work. The brothers symbols appearing in each part and soon enough, they appeared in full demon form.

"FIRE-!"

Lucifer:

his wings blocked at the rapid bullets going their way

His whip quick to come out and wrap around a hunters wrists, he twisted his hand around it and pulled the poor hunter towards him

"This isn't very welcoming, now is it? How bold."

the hunter went flying, the brothers dodging in time

Mammon:

He smirked, a bullet between his teeth and more between his fingers

Steam was drifting off them but he just crushed the metal bullets with no other thought

"How nice of ya to give me a gift~! You really know how to make a demon happy."

He spat out the last bullet and it went flying, hitting a hunters eye

Levithan:

The ground shook beneath you, many hunters missing their shot at his brothers

A crab like beast bursted out of the ground, sewer sludge splattering on the floor

It swiped and grabbed at the hunters, screams filling the space, bodies snipped in half in seconds

"You're all worse than Normies! You took the wrong human from the wrong demons!"

he back hand slapped a hunter that approached him, growling

Satan:

He leapt off the crab, grabbing the nearest hunter to him by the head

Their neck snapped to an odd angle and they immediately dropped

"This isn't how I expected to spend my evening but you took my reading partner....you won't receive my mercy."

He shoved his clawed hands through their chests and spines, ripping out the first organ or bone he could grab

He didn't lie, he didn't show an ounce of mercy

Asmodeus:

His wings flapped behind him, he dragged his claws along the backs of the hunters he flew past

Giggling as they screamed in pain

"Aww I'm just flirting, was it really that bad?"

He pouted before swiping at their faces

Shoving another hunter towards his more violent brother

Whilst he had no issue letting himself get wild, he saw how scared you looked

He didn't want to get too dirty or else how could he comfort you?

Beezlebub:

Beel could be ruthless if TRUELY provoked

And hearing your whimpers when he arrived stirred furious anger within him

When he finally saw your beaten state it made him snap

Hungry for blood

Hunters head being crushing with ikr hand

"You don't even look appealing to eat, you're worst than Solomon's cooking."

He took a chunk out of one hunter when they aimed at one of his brother's

Refusing to let his family get hurt

Belphegor:

We all know he's cold blooded

So it was no surprise blood was gushing everywhere

His dream dust filling his area and nightmares surrounded the hunters

"They're mine....and yet you stole them and hurt them, you're disgusting."

hunters would disappear into the mist and not come back out alive

Bodies littering the floor as he swooped through

As soon as things got gory your eyes were sealed shut, trying to shut out the sound of flesh tearing and screams of agony. Whimpering as you thought about the brothers smiling faces, how gentle and soft they usually were. Chanting in your head that they were here to save you, you were safe, they're still them.

You screamed as your body was lifted off the platform you were on, the cross rising. You were now fully crucified; feet slipping as you struggled against the cross. The chains were barely supporting your weight so you just dangled, fear rising in you.

Mammon charged towards you, his brothers continuing to fight against the hunters. He ripped the chains out of the cross, you fell right into his arms, your heart thumping against your chest.

"look at what they did to you....I shouldn't of protected ya, I hope you'll learn to forgive me - they busted you up real bad."

He caressed your cheek; eyes glaring at your busted lip and the many bruises forming on your face. You winced when his hand touched the side of your head, he recoiled feeling something warm on his palm. It was blood. YOUR blood.

He almost broke down right there and then, looking at how hurt you were - he couldn't handle it.

"thanks...that makes me feel so much better." You let out a pained laugh, hoping to make him feel better.

He only frowned more, softly rubbing his thumb on your cheek. It was obvious he was struggling to keep himself calm. You held his hand, showing off your best smile.

"i don't blame any of you, the hunters did this, okay? You didn't do anything wrong."

Your sweet moment was ruined when the 6 brothers backed all bumped into the two of you. Forming a protective ring as the hunters surrounded them; it seemed like there was no end.

You raised your shaky hands, magic swirling around your wrists and to your fingertips. You barely had enough strength to put on a little light show but you weren't going to just let the demons defend you without even trying to help.

It your lucky day as suddenly, the hunters hideout doors bursted open. You could barely make out the outside but there was blood coating every wall, steam coming off dead bodies. Soon enough four figures emerged and your heart almost leapt out of your throat.

Lucifer growled as he strangled a hunter, turning his attention to the new comers.

"I'm surprised you came so late, espically with the company with you, my lord."

Diavolo laughed, his hands coming together as his magic flared brightly. Barbatos had his arms behind his back, smiling to all of you.

"Forgive our tardy timing, these hunters are determined."

"don't forget us, though I may of caused us to take our time, it's been so long since I've fought this many people."

Solomon adjusted his sleeves, his many pacts glowing against his skin. Simeon, unlike the others, looked completely untouched by the chaos. Smiling as he kept his hands together.

"I beg for your forgiveness (Y/N), It appears we've angered Lucifer more than the hunters have."

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

Time slowed down within the room, only the hunters going still

Their movements frustratingly slow

"I think it's best to clean up this situation whilst you take (Y/N) back, they've seen enough."

He looked at Lucifer, both men nodding

The prince moved freely through the frozen room, eyeing the amount of hunters

Barbatos:

He bowed to the brothers, offering you a comforting smile

"I must agree with my lord, things will get rather unpleasant."

He slowly slipped off his gloves

He approached you, gently handing you his gloves and patted your shaky hands

A silent request to keep them safe for him

Solomon:

The wizard blew the steam off his wand

Smirking as he pointed it towards the magic still present around your wrists

"Isn't it good I came along? You're going to fall sleep if you keep using your powers, little apprentice, let me open a portal for you."

Just as he finished talking he summoned a portal to the devildom

He gave you a small salute

Simeon:

He hastily rushed towards you all

Checking on each brother for any serious harm, thankful they were okay

He turned his attention to you, doing the same

"all is going to be okay, I promise, I'll bring over some desserts when we get back - tell Luke I won't be long, I know he's anxious about your safety."

He walked you to the portal, caressing your hands

You got a gentle push towards the portal

Once you were all through the portal, you completely shattered. Crumbling to the floor as you broke down sobbing. The brothers tried to approach you again but your nostrils flared, face scrunching up in disgust. They reeked of blood and guts.

Beels mouth was covered in blood, flesh between his fangs. Levithans hands trembling from adrenaline red and stained with blood. Belphegor was showered in the red liquid, a feral look still in his eye. Mammon was the most clean out of all of them but he had blood dripping down him. Asmodeus had flesh on his nails and blood on his cheek. Satan looked just as drenched as belphegor, his shoulders shaking with anger. And finally, Lucifer was the second cleanist but he still was no better than the others.

"i need time to- time to calm down....just.... please just wash."

They all accepted your wishes, hesitant but they understood your predicament.

You laid on the floor, chains still on your wrists and ankles. They felt so tight on your limbs, you whimpered as they scratched at your skin. It took one small burst of magic to make them drop; you were finally free.

You continued to just lay on the floor, shakily grabbing a nearby pillow. Inhaling the sweet comforting scent, letting it fill your scenes. Everytime you even smelled a faint swift of the gore-ish scene from before you just took in another deep inhale.

You laid there for what felt like hours. Silently crying as you hugged the pillow.

You grounding yourself. Reminding yourself you were safe and back in your room. The brothers were safe and they weren't mindless beasts.

You rolled on your side, something poking your hip. It was your phone. You pulled it out from your pocket and began to type, messaging Luke that Simeon was okay aswell as you, apologizing for not seeing him in person. You sent him a quick selfie of you smuggled into your pillow and tried to look somewhat happy. Hoping it'll comfort him.

It wasn't a moment later until you heard a knock at your door. You questioned who it was.

"we're all clean now, meet us in the living room if you want....I made your favourite drink~" Asmo's voice was soft, gentle on your ringing ears.

A small smile appeared on your face. Shuffling out of your room still hugging your pillow, trailing after the lustful demon. Soon enough, you were both entering the living room.

The room was dim, the fireplace being it's only lighting and warming the room up nicely. There must of been something with the wood as it smelled so comforting. The brothers all sat along the sofa, Some on the floor. Everyone had their own drink, blankets and pillows surrounding them.

You curled up in the middle of the sofa, letting yourself be engulfed in multiple hugs. Everyone touching you in some way and you all just sat there. In peaceful silence as you just hugged.

You really needed this....

"thank you for saving me."

"We'll always save you"

"you can always count on us-!"

"I won't let this happen to you again, I promise to protect you better."

"no one is allowed to touch you like that, I won't let them."

"You don't need to thank us, darling."

"I will always make sure you're safe, no Matter what."

"I won't fail you again."

you all hugged each other even tighter, embracing each others comfort and warmth. Tears falling and soothing words shared, each brother did their best to be strong. But even they couldn't stop themselves from shedding tears when the adrenaline died.

They almost lost you. You were kidnapped and hurt because of your connection to them. They were never going to let you get harmed again, no matter the cost.

[proserpina-magnus]

i loved your blurb where the marauders comforted the reader about her eating issues. i have struggled with and eating disorder for two years now and i sadly when to the hospital recently. your fic made me feel so much better. I was wondering if you could write another one like that where james is sitting at dinner with the reader and he eats with her. again i love your writing all well <33

Hi!! I'm glad you found comfort in the blurb I wrote! I'm sorry you have struggled with eating issues and I hope in the future you can slowly lead yourself into a healthy life style that makes you feel safe and comfortable! I hope this blurb helps you. If you ever need someone to talk to, my dms are always open!

One where he helps you back into a healthy eating habit [ James Potter ]

Word Count: 1609

[ warning: female reader, eating issues/struggles, petnames such as "baby", background wolfstar + peter, James Potter in-fact strutted, not edited well ]

James had known about your eating issues, so he tried his absolute best to be a good boyfriend and help you in any way he could.

He first started to leave you small candy as gifts, always keeping sweets in his pockets. When you refused most of it, he only frowned but understood.

He kept trying new things, ranging from eating with you alone or taking you on dates that involved food. He even decided to cook your favourite foods for a date idea, he was thrilled when you ate everything and praised him for the meal.

You had been slipping back into your harmful eating habits again, skipping meals and trying your best to only drink water. James caught on pretty quickly, making a note to himself to get you back on a healthy eating track.

You gathered your things up, Care of magical creatures class had just ended. You look at James who is walking over to you in a confident strut, a smile on his face.

"Hi baby, can I walk you to the dining hall?" James asked, his hand resting on the low of your back. You sling your bag over your shoulder, shaking your head.

"Sorry James, I'm going to the library," you tell him, slipping away from his hand but he only moves closer. You both walk out into the hall, getting pushed to the closest wall by all the running students who are trying to get to the dining hall.

"I didn't see you at breakfast," He says, pulling you by the waist to get closer. Your head rests on his shoulder briefly, cuddling into his body.

"Yeah, I ate in my dorm. okay, I'm heading this way," You lied, smiling as you both walked down the crowded corridor.

"I'll see you at dinner?" He asked, a small worried feeling filled his gut. He was determined to help you in any way he could, he cared deeply about this and took it seriously.

"Sure James," you began, leaning up on your toes to kiss his cheek gently, your hand on his forearm for support. "Alright, I'll see you later,"

You part away from him, waving as you twirl to walk faster down the corridor to the library. James has a goofy smile on his face, watching you walk away.

"I better see you at dinner!" James calls out, getting shushes from talking paintings. He makes a shrug to them, giving a glare to tell them to piss off.

"Okay!" You yell back, waving your hand as you walk out of talking distance. James watches you leave for a moment, before heading towards the dining hall.

He catches up with Sirius and Peter, his arms swinging around them as he pulls them towards him.

"Where's [ name ]?" Peter asked, turning his head to see if you're where following them.

"She's going to the library," James answers, ruffling his fingers between Peter's blonde locks, making him giggle.

"She wasn't at breakfast prongs," Sirius tells James, giving him a small look. James shrugs, nodding as they get to the Gryffindor table. They plop down, shoving food onto their plates.

"I know. after I eat I'll pop into the library 'n give her a small snack," James plans, placing one of your favourite sandwiches to the side of his plate to save for you. The boys nod, soon Remus joins them at the table and they start to talk about classes.

James finishes his lunch, putting your sandwiches on a small plate as he bids his friends goodbye. He almost skips to the library, a small smile on his face.

"Hi baby," He whispers, sliding into the chair beside you. You sat in the back of the library, bookshelves hiding you from the rest of the students. You feel James kiss your head, sliding the plate next to your open book.

"James, what are you doing here?" You ask, giving him a confused stare. He smiles, gesturing to the sandwich.

"I'm bringing you lunch," he says, moving his chair to bump with yours.

"I already ate breakfast," you lied, pushing the plate away from your schoolwork. You almost frown at the thought of eating but smiled instead at the small action James took. His small actions always meant the most to you, it made you feel cared for and loved.

"Okay? Now you're going to eat lunch, you need three meals a day to fully function and be healthy," James states, pushing back the plate as he gives you a knowing look.

"I'm not hungry," you protest, going back to writing on your parchment paper. You were just about the dip your quill in ink before your book and parchment got snatched from you.

"Hey! James!" You gasp, trying to grab your work but he only pulls it away from your grasp.

"You can have it back after you eat," James reasons, sliding your work to the other side of the table. You go to stand up, but James only pulls you back down with a gentle hand on your wrist.

"James I don't want to," you whispered to him, you felt his hand slide into yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze, a knowing smile on his lips to give you some comfort.

"I know, but you need this to stay healthy. You deserve to eat okay? You don't have to torture yourself anymore," He assured, his eyes holding a comforting look in them. You sigh from uncertainty, turning your gaze to the plate.

"It's your favourite, you'll enjoy it. You deserve to enjoy this," James whispers into your ear, you turn away from him. You feel slightly embarrassed, so you lean your back against his chest as you pick up the sandwich.

You place it to your lips, taking a small bite. You chew for a slow minute, uncertainty in your veins. But James slides his hands around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

You swallow it, instantly taking another bite. You realize how hungry you had been, so you gladly finish the rest of the sandwich.

"Can I have my work back now?" You asked, James presses his lips into your hair. He grabs your stuff, placing it back in front of you.

"Thank you, I'm glad you're eating, I know it's hard for you but you make me so proud," James praises you, which makes you give him a genuine smile. He takes the plate, pulling away from you as he pushes the chair back into its original place.

"You're not going to stay?" You ask, looking up at him as you dip your quill back into the ink pod, a confused look on your features.

"No, I can't. Sirius wants to... uhm, go fishing," James says, lying through his teeth. It's obvious that wasn't the truth and you roll your eyes at the thought of James doing something stupid, again.

"Alright, I'll see you at dinner?" You asked, James smiles proudly as he leaned down to capture your lips against his.

"Of course, but I really need to go! I'll see you at dinner!" James yells as he walks away towards the doors, his loud voice earns him a shush from the Liberian. He gives a mouthed apology, making you giggle.

—-

You finish your class of the day, hurrying along with the rest of the students as you all rush to the dining hall. You see James chatting loudly with Sirius at the Gryffindor table, but to your surprise, he's soaking wet.

You slid next to him, feeling his cold lips against your cheek. You shiver away from him, letting out a small sound of disapproval.

"You're wet," you claimed, seeing as James takes out his wand and mutters a quick spell to dry himself. His hair was a puffy mess, making everyone stare and gasp at his crazy curls.

"Just for you baby," James winked, which earned a laugh from his friends. You chuckle, pushing food onto your plate. Weirdly, all your favourite foods had been made for dinner.

"Charming," you mumble, taking a sip from your cup. You take a piece of food, the first bite being the hardest. James's hand comes to rest on your knee, giving a small smile.

You swallow the first bite, sighing as you cut another piece. Thankfully, the next few bites had been easier than the first. James kept you laughing the whole dinner, making you completely forget about your food. By the time you knew it, your plate was cleared.

"Have sum' more," James huffs, piling some tasty sweets onto your plate. You give him a look, but he only returns it with a look of his own. The pastries looked absolutely dazzling, they looked too good not to eat.

You take a bite, smiling as your taste buds get filled with a glorious warmth. You have to deny letting out a moan from satisfaction, the pastry tasted amazing.

James smiled at your obvious well liking to the food, he nuzzles into you, happy that you're enjoying your food.

"I'm proud of you," James whispered, kissing your shoulder as he earns a groan from Sirius.

"Why do you never kiss me like that?" Sirius whines, making everyone laugh. James kisses Sirius's shoulder, rolling his eyes.

"Happy?"

"Yes," Sirius chimes, giving a wide smile to everyone. James yelps when he gets kicked in the foot by a jealous Remus.

James pulls his attention back to you, a smile on his face. He's beaming at you, a proud look on his face. He was so incredibly happy you ate, he was proud of you with every fiber of his being.

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 12

A/N: another shorter chapter here, a bit of an uneasy calm before the storm :)

Warnings: injury, fever, infection/corruption, unconsciousness, talk of possession, talk of death, crying

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

The last few days had been horrendous. Jimmy hardly got any sleep, staying at Scott’s side and comforting him through the horrible fever and corruption. The few times Scott was awake, he wasn’t super coherent- the fact that he kept clinging to Jimmy and borderline whining whenever Jimmy wasn’t right beside him proved that. Everyone was trying their best to come up with solutions for Scott. While Joel, Lizzie, and Pixl hadn’t seemed too keen on helping Scott at first, they quickly changed their tune when they heard about what Fwhip had said about Scott, how he had really cared about Jimmy, and left the Wither Rose Alliance because of it. Joel and Pixl tried offering golden apples and health potions, but Gem and Shelby sadly explained that they hadn’t been doing much good, only somewhat combating the fever and doing absolutely nothing to the corruption. Then they tried to remove the corruption- but Scott woke up screaming in pain, and that was a sound that would haunt Jimmy forever. They stopped trying to remove the corruption pretty much instantly, as it was clear that it was far too intertwined with Scott. They would just find another way, there had to be another way.

With Gem’s magic, they had managed to get the corruption to stop spreading across his skin- and it seemed like it had worked. Even Shelby seemed optimistic- her people were never able to stop the corruption from spreading. Scott’s fever went down, and he woke up, seeming far more coherent than he had been in the past few days. Well, maybe not super coherent, he looked extremely baffled and wondered if he was dead. But he wasn’t, he was awake and for once his icy blue eyes weren’t glazed over with fever or pain… but then just like that, everything went wrong again. Scott started shaking and hyperventilating, babbling out apologies- then he tensed, eyes turning red before they fluttered shut and he went limp.

“What happened?!” Gem asked as she burst in, followed by Pearl, Shelby, Katherine, Pixl, Joel, and Lizzie. Jimmy was still standing at Scott’s side, hand tightly gripping Scott’s.

“I don’t know, he seemed fine and then he wasn’t- and his eyes went red, the same red as the corruption,” Jimmy explained, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“Oh no,” Shelby gasped, eyes going wide as she scrambled back from Scott’s bed. Jimmy looked at her in confusion.

“Shelby, what’s wrong?” Jimmy asked. Shelby swallowed nervously.

“There- there was something else that could happen to people because of the corruption- but it was rare, not many people lived long enough for it to happen.. but we got it to stop spreading, so why would his eyes…” Shelby’s rambling trailed off as she continued backing away from Scott’s bed, eyes wide with horror.

“Shelby, what aren’t you telling us?” Pixl asked, voice gentle yet firm.

“They would become like puppets, the corruption would control them so it could spread- but Scott shouldn’t just be lying there, if his eyes really went red then he should have killed us all by now,” Shelby explained shakily. Various gasps and shouts of alarm filled the room.

“You knew what the corruption did this whole time and didn’t tell us?!” Jimmy demanded.

“Jimmy, yelling isn’t going to solve anything,” Katherine reprimanded, but it was lost on Jimmy as he glared at Shelby instead.

“Becoming a puppet to the corruption was rare! And I didn’t think it was happening to Scott- most times, before someone got under the corruption’s control, they were in a much better state than Scott. But it was like that was what the corruption wanted sometimes. It would weed out the weak ones and keep the strong ones to spread it. And… well, with how Scott was doing, it seemed like the corruption saw him as weak. But then you said his eyes went red, and that was a surefire sign that the corruption took over someone- but he should have started killing people or trying to spread the corruption… it doesn’t make sense,” Shelby rambled, her terrified expression completely directed at Jimmy now. Jimmy’s shoulders sagged, and he dropped his glare to instead sheepishly grimace at Shelby.

“I… yeah, okay. That- that makes sense. Sort of. Sorry for yelling,” he said, giving her a weak smile. Shelby gave a trembling smile back.

“It’s okay. And who knows! Maybe Scott passing out means that he’s still fighting off the corruption,” Shelby said hopefully.

“I don’t think we can afford to be that optimistic,” Pearl said with a wary glance to Scott’s still form.

“Maybe we should lock him away somewhere, until we find a cure,” Joel pondered.

“I have a secret meeting room- Fwhip and Sausage know about it, but it’s probably the most fortified spot in my empire,” Gem offered.

“We could always set up a guard rotation, maybe have someone stay in the meeting room with Scott as a last resort,” Pixl pointed out.

“I’m staying with Scott,” Jimmy blurted. Everyone’s gazes snapped to Jimmy with varying expressions of fear and concern.

“Jimmy, that’s suicide,” Lizzie said softly, eyes slightly glassy. Jimmy felt his eyes watering as well.

“I don’t care, I’m not abandoning him. Not again. Besides, maybe Shelby’s right, maybe he’s still trying to fight it off. And if anyone can beat it, it’s Scott,” Jimmy said firmly.

“Jimmy, this isn’t your fault,” Lizzie said softly. Jimmy gave her a grim trembling smile.

“If I hadn’t pushed him away, then he wouldn’t have had to deal with Fwhip and Sausage on his own. Then maybe none of this would have happened,” he replied, guilt laced throughout his tone. Lizzie let out a frustrated scoff.

“Then you both would have ended up like this! Jimmy, we can’t lose you either!” she exclaimed, hands gesturing wildly as she began to cry. Jimmy let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob as he reached out to take Lizzie’s hands.

“Lizzie, what if it was Joel in this situation?” he asked softly. A look of understanding came over Lizzie’s face, but she shook her head, still looking like she wanted to protest.

“I- but-”

“So you know why I have to do this. I can’t just… give up on him again,” Jimmy continued. Lizzie let out a sigh of defeat, nodding at Jimmy.

“I told you these land boys were trouble,” she teased weakly.

“Didn’t think it would be this much trouble,” Jimmy said with a nervous laugh. Lizzie gave a watery laugh in response, and hesitated for only half a second before letting go of Jimmy’s hands to hug him tightly.

“You’re not allowed to die,” Lizzie murmured into his shoulder. Jimmy chuckled.

“Understood, Ocean Queen,” he said solemnly, swallowing the lump in his throat before letting go of her to look at the others.

“So you’re sure about this?” Gem asked. Jimmy nodded firmly.

“We should still keep a guard rotation outside too, that way Jimmy can call for help if he needs it,” Pearl added. The others nodded in agreement, and Gem fiddled with something around her neck before taking it off and holding it out to Jimmy. It was one of her amethyst shards on a chain, gently glowing with her magic.

“This should protect you from the corruption. The crystals are what helped me slow the spread of it in Scott, maybe it will help it from spreading to you. I’m sorry I don’t have a more definite solution,” Gem explained, pressing it into Jimmy’s hand. The crystal shimmered in his hand, glowing a bit before going back to its usual purple hue.

“Thank you- it’s better than nothing,” Jimmy replied with a smile as he put on the necklace.

“At the very least it looks nice on you!” Shelby chirped, relieving the tension in the room slightly as the group laughed. But the laughs dissipated quickly, and they began preparations to move Scott to the secret meeting room.

-

The wall closing in front of Jimmy felt like a finality. Realistically he could open it whenever he wanted, but that was only if the situation got dire enough, or if it turned out that Scott was okay. He had hugged each of his friends- even Gem, Pearl and Shelby, even though their friendships were relatively new- and it felt too much like a goodbye. But it wouldn’t be, surely Scott would be alright.

Jimmy looked over to the bed they had set up in the room, where Scott was still peacefully asleep. That was a good sign, right? Unless it wasn’t, and Scott would just… never wake up. Forever trapped in the clutches of the corruption, eternally fighting its control. Jimmy shook his head. He couldn’t think like that. Scott would wake up, eventually. But whether or not Scott would be himself when he woke up was another issue. Would Jimmy really be able to fight him off? Would he even have enough time to call for help? And even if he did, would he want to? If he asked his friends for help, they would have to kill Scott in order to keep the lands safe from corruption. He just had to hope that Gem could figure out a cure before it got to that point. And maybe this worrying was for nothing! Maybe Scott’s willpower was strong enough to fight it… but there was no way of knowing that. Instead, all Jimmy could do was sit at Scott’s side, holding his hand and praying to whoever was listening that Scott would be alright.

-

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[ryan-shepard-writes]

Finished the rewrite of my prologue and thought I'd toss it into the universe. HERE is a link to the previous prologue. Sadly Tumblr hates me and got rid of certain things like Italics, so it looks a bit different than the doc I'm working on-- which I will gladly share if anyone is interested.

@athenixrose thought you might be interested jaidjwjdh

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PROLOGUE: MISFORTUNE

Ryan sighed, staring at the old library computer monitor as it glared pointedly back with near-blinding artificial light. The screen wasn't blank—thankfully, writer's block wasn't the issue here. No, the current issue was editing. Editing, and the fact that no one else but he himself had even seen the screen's contents so far. He had no idea if it was any good. He had no idea if it was even palatable. But… he loved it. He wanted to make this work. He so desperately wanted to give this part of himself to the world.

“Well…” Ryan mumbled, scrolling up the hundreds of pages of his beloved monstrosity. “A very wise woman once said that the beginning was a very good place to start.”

It was rough— It was a first draft, after all. But… there was potential here. He knew there was. There had to be something, here among all these words and notations to himself and future beta readers…

And so he began to read.

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~)O(~ Now, for the main event… ~)O(~

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As with many stories, ours begins on a typical day. Dreary, but typical for a day on AltGaia in the P.C.E (Post Common Era). Outside, the air was thick, wet, and quite frankly smelled like rotten eggs. Typical, given the state of the atmosphere (of course the planet was in decline, what did you expect, a utopian romance?). Lilly Fierstele, from an old family, was blessed enough that, on this typical day, she awoke in her own bedroom, in her own home. Such a home was conveniently equipped with air filters, as was, of course, typical for someone of her upper-lower-class status. Though in meager amounts compared to our own time, she had soap, water, food, clothes, and other typical human things. Indeed, typically, Lilly had the fortune of being who she was, if nothing else. Typical of her lot in life, most of her family was long gone, but at least she was considerably comfortable as she looked after her family’s assets, until she was old enough to be blessed in marriage, have her own children, and then die herself. She was, typically, privileged in her own way, here in her gray house of bare essentials.

And yet, for such a typical, blessed day full of dystopian upper-lower-class privilege, Lilly did not have one thing. That one thing, was any idea why she was awoken in the dead of night by the frantic sounds of shrieking— that of both humans and tearing metal.

Gifted with a curious nature (typical of any modern or postmodern heroine. I wonder if I should have made her… sensible instead?) and lack of foresight (also quite typical. Her personality might be a little too much like a tree shaped christmas cookie.) she quickly got out of bed and made her way to the door, which remained in its typical, un-broken state. Thankfully, she found her own home to be quite alright, and deduced that the sound must be coming from outside. As sensible as any teenage girl woken up at three in the morning, our typically uppity lass put on the small half-mask that would shield her lungs from the worst of the sulfuric smell of the air, squared her scrawny little shoulders, and slapped the button that opened her door.

And immediately wished she hadn’t.

Before her stood a scene that could only come from a child’s nightmares. An exceptionally large, green, scale-covered humanoid was in the middle of her street, batting at a crowd of her neighbors with a tree— they, apparently having either more sense or time than her, had wandered out of their homes in their specialized anti-sulfur suits (Too specific? Fix in post.), rather than pajamas. The great creature's shoulders were as wide as the average cargo-hauling vehicle (quite big) and he would probably have to duck if he were standing in her house. His gravelly voice came out sounding eerily like metal grinding into stone, impatiently repeating the same phrase over and over.

"Bahg da ii Si’Endir!”

Typically enough, not to mention conveniently, Lilly was somewhat of a scholar. She'd spent many of her lonely days reading and studying, and therefore knew a handful of words from her old books that contained languages thought lost. This particular language was known as Etlun’ugi, or Earth Tongue (Needs a better translation). While she had no idea what this thing was, she could at least pick out two "words", or rather a conjoined phrase. Si’Endir, Girl Human. This thing apparently really wanted someone like her.

But alas, as she stood there patting herself on the back for decrypting a simple descriptive phrase, the giant green... "man" (Let’s call him Bob, shall we? Dosn’t matter if it’s corny, no one’s going to read this but me.) had noticed Lilly and ceased his caterwauling (I refuse to chill out with the thesaurus). Bob, seemingly a man of action, tossed his tree at the crowd, who had women he apparently wasn’t interested in, and turned in the girl’s direction. “Kalla!” Cried Bob, before barreling over in her direction.

Lilly could barely comprehend what was going on before she was suddenly being roughly dragged along. “Run, you idiot!” Said the boy—or maybe a man?—as he half carried her through the yard and down the road. “It’s hard for them to turn when they run in this form! His muscles restrict his movement!”

She had half a mind to comment that she really didn’t give a damn about why he couldn’t turn, but the other half of her weary mind was blank as she stared. Her new acquaintance wasn't any more human than Bob was.

He wore black pants, a sleeveless black shirt, and dark leather shoes that she could only describe as slippers. (But we aren’t so ignorant in the ways of footwear, so we’ll call them moccasins, which is indeed what they were.) His skin, she could tell from his wrist-guard covered arms and shoulders, as well as the hand which gripped her forearm like a vice, was a coppery tan. Atop his head, swiveling to catch the sounds of the night, were a pair of wolf’s ears the same color as his long, tied-back black hair, just as out of place on his otherwise human form as the dark and bushy tail that stuck through a slit in his pants. She couldn’t see his face from this angle but, typically enough, he was handsome. The unstrung bow in his other hand and the fully-loaded quiver hanging from his hips almost went unnoticed.

Almost.

Time slowed for our Lilly. Thanks to her precious books, she knew the creature that had put himself between her and a now-confused Bob. This was a Daekin. An animalistic faery-like creature, whose people had been living on this planet long before her own. Creatures that were powerful. Creatures so magical that, after inciting a war, had completely disappeared from the world. And, as was typical to the story being told thus far, a Wolf Daekin, called a Rorvan, was the strangest and most powerful kind of non-mythical Daekin.

“Rorvan.” She said, thinking this to be some kind of profound revelation. The man— twenty, she thought, he can’t be more than twenty, though he most certainly was at least as old as the dirt she stood on— flinched at the word but made no comment.

Instead, he watched as Bob turned, aimed deliberately, and began running towards them once again. The Rorvan, unphased, picked our heroine up with naught but an arm around her waist and neatly stepped from Bob’s path. It was almost like a dance, the movement was so outrageously casual. With a sigh, he set her down. “I was hoping to follow him and find out what a Slic’th would want, trying so hard to come back to this... place. Seems I found my answer.” he said, putting the wooden portion of his bow at his instep and stringing it in a fluid and practiced motion. Politely, as an afterthought, he glanced at her. “And what might your name be, human? I’m called Keir.”

The human eyed the weapon nervously— did he plan to fight something as large as Bob with that, or was it meant for her?— “My name is Lilly. Lilly Fierstele. Eighth of my name, nonsequential, Caretaker of the Fierstele-”

“Please do not start naming your entire bloodline. Your lives are so short that we’d be here all night, and honestly I do not have that kind of time, Miss Lilly. I ask because he very specifically appears to want you, and I’d like to know why.”

Our human could just stare blankly. Was this guy even real? She wanted to hope not. She'd made the mistake of assuming that even beasts had manners.

Quite suddenly, Bob stopped. He squared himself up, and then with more of his odd grunts, began yelling at them. His voice seemed stunted, as if it was a chore for him to get his stone-like body to make sound. Lilly could only make out a few words, Fitae, meaning Fate, Si'Endir, and Rorvan—and Rorvae, the plural form of the word. Keir seemed to take in his words, then chuckled. He talked quickly enough that even in a normal voice, Lilly had trouble keeping up. Bob vehemently repeated himself.

At the end, the Rorvan sighed. “Miss Lilly, apparently you are nothing but trouble. Our friend won’t back down... It seems he feels the need to keep you prisoner and take you to his people. I’m assuming you don’t want that to happen?”

Oddly enough, her mind decided that this moment above all others was too much. Promptly, her eyes closed and her body crumpled as she fell into a faint.

“Of all the...” Keir grumbled, barely catching her before she hit the ground, glancing at the crowd of humans that had grown larger and were beginning to shout. As far as he was concerned, this whole mission was a mess. Typical.

Bob, in their own tongue, had informed him that this particular human girl was important to a Slic’a'th'i prophecy. This girl needed to return with Bob. This human was special. This human was Fate touched, and would make the wolves regret every single transgression they ever made…

Blah, blah, blah.

Typical.

Faster than sight, Keir drew his bow and loosed arrows—arrows which Bob hadn't even realized the Rorvan had grabbed before they planted themselves into the scaled man's broad forehead. It was hard telling what the green giant thought. Probably something iconic and full of wisdom, like ‘wow, this guy is fast!’. Either way, Bob didn’t have long to think about it. As the momentum of 5 arrows to the face sent him reeling back, the scaled behemoth found himself dead long before he hit the ground.

Sorry Bob. But you probably deserved it… Maybe.

The human crowd could only gasp as Keir was suddenly crouched next to Lilly, bow unstrung once more. After a few seconds, most of them ran. Not that it mattered, they were obviously no concern to someone who could down a giant with nothing but a handful of arrows. (RIP Bob)

Keir sighed, struggling with himself. If he left the human here alone, someone not as friendly as him would probably show up again. If he took her home with him, it would spark controversy, and probably cause the Slic’a'th'i to merely change tactics. He hated politics. But his father had sent him to follow, get intel, and come home with news. Leaving her would be irresponsible, and he’d probably be sent back for her anyway. But a human in Daekin lands? His people saw humans in little better light than they saw cockroaches, as was typical of such different cultures. Humans had fought and tried to kill Daekin, all for some burning and doomed territory, and the general populace would probably not be in favor of harboring such a cursed creature. She would need to be constantly watched, protected, in even what he considered to be good and friendly company.

What an ironic little cliche.

Supporting her with one hand so she sat up, he put down his bow stave and gently lay his other on her neck, feeling his meager magic surge. He was taught this particular magic by his father, only just a day ago; it was a binding and tracking mark. Magic that was old, but effective, and left a physical mark on the body. Conveniently, unless he took it off, he would now forever know where she was and how she was feeling. Others would smell and sense him on her, now. To creatures who lived by magical laws and were kin to animals, this was as powerful a protection for her as a constant guard, and barely used any power on his part. To humans, though, it would probably be nothing more than a scandalous tattoo. Typical barbarians.

It was odd, though, how father had known...

Having resigned himself to his Fate, he picked the girl up and, to human eyes, vanished.

You get the feeling that you’re in for a wild ride.

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~)O(~ Other Side ~)O(~

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“I feel like the narrator’s a little obnoxious, but… that’s kind of the point, so I guess I’ll leave that for now…” the young man murmured, eyes flitting across the screen. “I think it’s decent, though, for a prologue? At least for a draft? Maybe later I’ll go and add more to it, but it seems like a good breaking point. So I guess the first chapter will just start h—

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Į̴̔̚D̷͕̀̽Ǐ̷̧̠̹̍̈́O̷͙̗̳͋͑T̴̻͖͘ͅ

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~)O(~ Far away, in the L̷̜̕ȋ̵̟c̴̱͛ḧ̴̪́’̶̫̔s̷̛̬ ̶̡̅W̴̦̃ǫ̴̾o̸͕͘d̶̩̓ ~)O(~

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The air was calm and uncommonly clear of fog or mist, replaced instead by dark shadows and a wayward breeze that stirred the typically cluttered forest floor. Slightly muggy air was held there, by trees that rose like skyscrapers to block out the light of whatever stars might dot the night sky. Instead, the forest seemed to be lit by ominously glowing patches of swamp, and the occasional firefly. The smells of late Summer flooded the senses of every creature in that dim place… unless, of course, you were standing too-near the cloaked figure that silently picked his way down a well-used game trail. Around him, the air was cold and flavorless, but thick with magic that concealed the identity of that wandering soul.

He traveled leisurely, with neither a weapon nor a sense of urgency that you might have had if you’d traveled this same path in the dead of night. And yet, not a single being of fur or feather allowed themselves to be caught in his path.

As though they instinctively avoided that chilling aura that surrounded him.

After a few more minutes of travel, he broke into a hidden clearing. The thin trail continued on, as did he, through a tiny meadow of white and purple lilies, leading to a low mound covered by the beautiful flowers. At the base, our odd figure stopped and knelt in respect… then removed his hood, allowing his wolf's ears to twitch as the light breeze hit them.

"It's been too long, mother. How are you doing? It's me, C̶r̵o̷w̷," he said to the grave, "I know I haven't been visiting as often as I should be, but it was getting harder to sneak through the line. Father's people took back the Rivend Fort, and we haven't reclaimed it quite yet… the bend in the river there makes it difficult for our people to cross unnoticed. I have a plan in place to come in from the other side, though. We'll retake it in due time…"

His voice trailed off into silence, falling into the gloom like a leaf to the ground. He seemed to contemplate what else to say, gently fingering a wilting flower.

After another moment, he gave a soft hum and continued. "Speaking of battles… this may be drawing to a close soon. Father has called a temporary truce, and I'm being asked back to the castle for… 'peaceful negotiations'..."

The breeze picked up for a split second, causing the flowers to shiver, and he chuckled. "I know. It's most certainly a trap, or some plot to try to trick me into submission, but I must go. It feels like something is changing... And it's been far too long since I've seen little Keir— though I suppose he won't be so little anymore. It's been almost twenty years since the night I left… the night you left, mother. And I'm stronger, now, even compared to how strong I was back then. Father won't be the one pulling the strings in this campaign for much longer. Keir and I will get through this with both our hides intact. You can count on it… mom."

He smiled as another breeze flitted through, standing amongst dancing flowers. Taking a deep breath, he held out his right hand as his eyes glowed silver. His cloak blew out, suddenly, as a rush of chilled air seemed to release from his frame.

"It's been too long since I've done this, and your flower garden is beginning to wilt… I'll fix that. You deserve to rest among something beautiful... Lunari, queen of the wolves."

Wisps of hazy mist flowed daintily from his outstretched palm, circling and caressing patches of flowers all throughout the beautiful graveyard. It covered everything, hiding the clearing from sight… then condensed, sinking into the ground with a hum of rain as the rejuvenated flowers glowed softly.

And like that, the cloaked figure was gone. But an ethereal sculpture of frosted ice replaced him; a white wolf, howling her song to an unseen sky.

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T̸̛̫̈h̶͙̖͑e̵̯̚͝r̸͔̣͛͗e̸̖͐̚.̷͖̆.̸̱̟͆͂.̷̝͝ ̸̛͍T̴̤͓̂h̸̭̟̔̄a̸͆̾͜t̵͓̓'̵̨͇̃̒ș̴̮̃ ̶̱̈́̉m̸͙̿͝ő̵͚r̸̛̫͎ĕ̸̜̝͒ ̴͍͋̋l̷̦̕ȉ̴̡̜̎k̵̘̭̈́e̶̙͑ ̴̂̔͜i̵̪̇ť̶͇́͜.̴̢̆

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—ere.”

[narrators-journal]

Don’t leave me

Somehow, you'd gotten yourself into a mess of a relationship, and now you weren't sure exactly what to do. It had started out so sweetly, Chuuya had been a fun, charming, and very handsome man, and he'd taken a swift interest in you after (f/n) had introduced you to him. The whole thing had you on cloud nine. Chuuya would shower you with gifts after lengthy work trips, would take you on fancy dates now and then, and, while prickly, somewhat protective, and aggressive, he was also abundantly affectionate and was surprisingly vulnerable and sensitive at times. In total, he was a wonderful guy, and things were great for the time, but the 'honeymoon phase' ended abruptly. The day had started out normally, you'd woken up to an empty bed, Chuuya once again gone, likely for a while, so you simply took advantage of his absence and picked up clothes and did regular chores. After all, ever since Chuuya had began to stay over more and more, your home was quicker to get cluttered and messy. But, you didn't mind too much since the bit of extra mess was well balanced out by your boyfriends charms, affections, and the fun the two of you had when he was around. So you just hummed a tune while plucking his clothing off of the bedroom floor and put them in your laundry basket. However, you stopped when a spot on his shirt caught your eye. Upon closer inspection, your first thought was sadly confirmed. Blood. You'd been with the man long enough to have learned to identify a wine stain on his clothes, but this wasn't quite the same. This stain was lighter around the edges in some parts, and there was splatter that, thanks to a slew of crime shows you'd seen, were high velocity rather than the light-weight missing his mouth with his wine glass. Where the hell did he get blood to spill like this though?? Did he hurt himself at work? You thought, a wave of anxiety turning your thoughts to scrambled gibberish for a moment, only calmed when you took a few deep breaths and tried to think straight, Hold on, hold on...He doesn't work on a job that would put him at risk of losing this much blood, so...what if this isn't HIS blood? You thought, and it honestly sort of plagued you for the remainder of the morning. What if he did get hurt though? He couldn't have killed someone, right?! The thought continued to run laps around your mind while you anxiously waited to see if your boyfriend returned home, which he thankfully did somewhat swiftly.          "Hey babe, I'm home!" Chuuya called as he walked in with an armful of groceries and a line of bags behind him on a string floating due to his power. However, when he saw the distressed look on your face, he paused and tilted his head a bit, "What's wrong?" Suddenly, you were in hysterics as you word-vomited about the stain and your concerns. Afterwards, Chuuya just sighed, walking over and wrapping his strong arms around your slightly shakey body, "Calm down, take a deep breath." He soothed, petting your (h/l), (h/c) hair until you were less frantic. After that, he sat you down, taking the shirt you were grasping as if your life depended on it and looking over the stain. He was quiet for a moment, and for an instance you saw a flash of panic in his sapphire eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as it had been there,           "Babe, you've wound yourself up about a wine stain," he snorted, giving you a playful, attractive smile, but right now it did little to sooth your anxiety,          "C-chuuya, I've seen enough tv to recognize blood splatter, i-it's not even the same color as a wine stain??" you pointed out while getting back to your feet, but he shook his head and pushed you back into the chair,           "(y/n), I promise you, it's only wine, you're making a big deal about this when there is nothing to freak out about," he assured,           "Than why'd you look scared for a moment? If it's just a wine stain, why did you get scared?" you asked, and that seemed to finally break his mask of calm. His face twisted into a mask of annoyance and he growled a bit,           "Just drop it, (y/n)." His voice had lost its calming edge and become stern and left no room for argument, but you shook your head and pushed him away to stand up,           "No, tell me what the hell that stain is. Did you get hurt? Did...did you hurt someone?!" you questioned, but Chuuya'd shut down, just huffing and turning to go back to the groceries he'd bought and put them away. For a while, you were stuck in a tense silence while Chuuya cooked. He was usually pretty honest, and quick to apologize when he got like this, but an hour passed and your moods only soured. He tried to give you food, but you spitefully refused, and any other attempts to get an explanation for the random stain on his shirt were ignored at best. By the time bedtime rolled around, the atmosphere in your apartment was suffocating, so you finally spoke to your boyfriend,            "I'm going to go stay with (f/n) for the night." You told him bluntly, having learned that if you were to hang out with your friends without planning a month in advance, you'd have to just put your foot down and walk out. However, this time, Chuuya reacted a lot more hostile.            "Why? There is no reason for you to go over to their house." he said, glaring at you coldly while he stood in front of the door,            "Because, you're being an asshole and I don't want to be around you right now." You told him, being honest along with snappy, making the redhead throw his hands up in exasperated annoyance,               "Really?! All because of a fucking shirt?" he snapped, about snarling at you. Honestly, it kind of frightened you when he got this way, but you had let him shut down the conversation about the shirt, not this.             "If it's just a shirt, than explain that stain to me so I can stop fucking worrying! Because, right now I fear you've been attacked, or have killed someone!" You demanded, trying to push past him angrily, Suddenly, Chuuya grabbed your arm, yanking you away from the door,              "Fuck that, you're not going anywhere!" The force of his words and the strength of his grip sending ice into your veins, making you look at him with wide (e/c) eyes,              "Chuuya, let me go! Y-you're being scary!" You said, trying to pull your wrist from his grip to no avail,              "No! Stay here, i-it's far too late for you to go anywhere anyway," he pointed out, trying to reason through his ill temper, but by now you were too scared of him to want to stay, even if he had a point or gave a believable explanation for the stain, so you kept trying to get away. As the two of you struggled, you could see your boyfriends face go from pissed, to panicked, accompanied by pleas for you to stay, to not leave, that he was sorry, but you ignored them all and just pulled on your aching wrist with all your might. Finally, you got your hand free, but without Chuuya to hold you up, you ended up falling backwards into the front door and knocking yourself silly. You could hear Chuuya talking to you, but the force of your skull smacking against the door made the world swim and distorted his words. Suddenly, he wrapped his arm around you and picked you up without an issue, ignoring your wriggling and disoriented arguments while your senses returned,          "Stay here, I'm sorry for losing my temper, alright? Just...Just come on, let's go to bed," he was saying, his words full of distress while he carried you to the bed and placed you in it, pushing you back when you tried to sit up. In record time, Chuuya got into the bed with you and pulled you close to him, keeping you trapped there in his strong arms and muttering apologies until you finally began to feel bad for your moment of rash decisions and just cuddled up to him with a sigh. You could talk to him about everything tomorrow.

[dessarious]

What Makes a Family? Pt18

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“And what price are they going to have to pay for your magic?” Marinette couldn’t help but smile at the protective tone in Bruce’s voice as he glared at Plagg. She was beyond relieved that he seemed to be a good person and even her Guardian instincts were calm around him.

“The Miraculous are all about balance. In our case, as true Chosen, they affect us whether we use them or not. That’s why Cass’ life has been so difficult and mine has been relatively calm. Actually being in possession of Plagg’s ring will make things better for her. As for other holders, it varies. The longer you hold a Miraculous the more it pulls out certain traits in you. Good or bad depends on both the person and how in tune with the Miraculous they are.” Chloe’s over protective nature and Adrien’s possessiveness were both likely side effects of being holders but there was no way for her to know for certain.

“So they begin to turn you into a different person?” Marinette was shaking her head before he was even finished. She really wasn’t good at explaining things to other people.

“No. Any traits that the Miraculous bring out were already there. If anything they bring out a person’s true nature so they can’t hide who they really are. My former partner for instance was always showing his best face to the world around him but Plagg’s influence allowed those looking for it the ability to see some of his less desirable qualities. Especially when transformed.” While it made perfect sense that the ring had brought out the things Adrien felt he had to hide from the world, she still felt guilty. She also had to wonder how different his life would have been if she’d found her real Black Cat sooner. Cass burrowed into her side.

“Not your fault.” Marinette just hugged her twin closer. Even if Fu had picked Adrien, as the current Guardian he had still been her responsibility. She’d let her knowledge of his personal life define how she treated him when she should have simply judged his actions as a hero. It had been reckless and irresponsible. She’d put everyone at risk. She felt a vibration at her side and actually laughed when she realized Cass was purring to calm her down.

“Well if I needed any more proof that you are Plagg’s chosen, the fact that you’re picking up cat traits without even having the ring on you would have done it.” Cass stopped abruptly and buried her head into Marinette’s shoulder with an embarrassed whine. Mari just grinned and kissed her temple to try and soothe her. “At least yours is cute. The first trait I picked up was reflex bleeding.” It was a small consolation that Lila had a rash for over a month after grabbing her.

“Do I want to know what that is?” Marinette offered Bruce a commiserating smile. It was a lot to process.

“My skin secretes a toxic substance when I feel threatened. Sadly enough it’s actually helped in battles before. Poor baby August tried to eat me a few times while Akumatized.” Bruce just blinked at her and Marinette could practically hear him thinking ‘what the fuck?’ She grinned at him. “Once you’ve actually been through an Akuma attack, remind me to show you footage of past battles. It will prove educational and quite possibly entertaining.”

“You expect me to be entertained by one of my children almost being eaten?” He sounded insulted at the suggestion but Marinette rolled her eyes.

“No, but the fact that Hawkmoth tends to Akumatize the worst suited people into villains should. The only reason he’s still around is because he’s a coward. If I could find him all of this would be over in a heartbeat. Hopefully with Cass here my luck will keep shifting for the better.”

“I thought you were the one with good luck.” Mari let out a frustrated breath.

“Technically yes. However having the Miraculous active, especially with the ring being held by someone so much less in tune than I am, has been affecting me. It’s gotten better since I added other permanent holders but certain things haven’t improved at all. Also, the Kwami are of the opinion that Cass and I rubbed off some of our luck on each other in the womb. It’s likely the reason she ended up with you around the same time I first became Ladybug. Being together will allow us to buffer each other.” Bruce was still frowning at her but it seemed more contemplative than anything else.

“Cass.” She watched her sister peek at Bruce from her position. “What do you want to do?” Marinette let out an approving hum at the question. She got a strange sense of satisfaction that he treated Cass with such care even though she wasn’t his. He wasn’t as warm as her parents, but it was obvious he did care.

“Stay. Help.” Bruce let out a sigh but nodded. Cass relaxed further and Marinette could feel contentment radiating off her.

“So Selina said you’re a fashion designer?” Marinette rose an eyebrow at the subject change. “Since there’s nothing more to be done at present about what’s going on in Paris and it doesn’t appear to be an urgent issue, I would like to get to know you and I’m sure Cass does too.” She felt Cass nod.

“Yes, I’m a fashion designer. It was always what I wanted to do, but my actual start was one of the first twists of fate after I got my Miraculous. I ended up designing something for Jagged Stone and everything just sort of took off from there.” Cass stiffened slightly and Marinette saw Bruce’s eye twitch.

“You’re the designer he’s always bragging about?” Marinette felt her face flush. It hadn’t really occurred to her that he would be familiar with Jagged. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “The boys are not going to leave you alone. Dick, Jason, and Tim have a running bet over who can get a commission from you first. I apologize in advance for whatever happens at dinner.” She laughed at his dry tone and caught Cass’ smile out of the corner of her eye.

“I assure you it can’t be worse than Uncle Jagged himself. He introduces me to all my new clients and I swear it gets more embarrassing every time. I’m fairly certain he practices just to annoy me.” Bruce’s mouth twitched into something between a smile and a grimace.

“Do not underestimate the boys’ ability to be annoying or embarrassing. That’s not even counting the fact that Damian is likely to challenge you to a duel in order to prove that he’s meant to be my true heir and I have no idea what weapons he managed to smuggle on the plane.” Marinette rolled her eyes. Why wasn’t she surprised?

“I take it Talia’s teachings are still strong?” He frowned at her. Oh right, he didn’t know she knew. “When she and Ra’s were in Paris she enjoyed bragging about him and his bloodlines. That’s how I figured out you were Batman. But don’t worry, I can handle him.” The skeptical look he shot her just made her grin. “Trust me. Besides, I just have to prove I’m not a threat to him. Given that I have no wish to take over your business and I have my own hero problems to worry about there’s no reason for him to take issue with me.” Bruce still seemed uncertain but Cass signed something at him and he nodded.

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.” While Bruce obviously doubted her, she felt nothing but confidence from her twin. As nervous as she was to meet the others, Damian trying to kill her wasn’t that big a problem. At least with him, she knew what to expect.

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[xxreader-writerxx]

Already Won

Word count: 2.1k

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Warnings: Cursing, angsty, Cheating Mentioned, Blood Mentioned, Knife Kink Mentioned, Reader nearly cuts finger off, Panic Attack-ish (Fred), Poor Plot, Snogging at the end, and Abandonment Issues

A/n: This isn't amazing it was just to kick my arse into writing again lol, fighting writers block atm

Y/N= Your Name L/N= Your Last Name Y/H= Your House

I'm cutting vegetables in the kitchen for dinner when I hear the door unlock. I smile to myself and grab the coffee I made, reheating it with a quick spell. "Baby! Did you get the creamer while you were out?" I ask, turning the corner. "I was supposed to?" I hear a different voice than what I was expecting respond. "Oh its you." I say plainly, annoyed by the sight of my ex boyfriend Draco. "Hey darling. I missed you." He says, walking to try to give me a hug but I push him away disgusted. "Didn't I dump you like what five months ago? After you cheated on me with Pansy?" I ask, turning to go into the kitchen. "Your still on that? I'm back so everything can go back to normal!" He says and I scoff. "Nope." I say when I hear the door open.

"Baby, the witch down the street ran out of creamer but, I got coffees down the street. Then I dropped them on myself trying to get inside." I hear Fred ramble. I walk out chuckling and see him stripping as he walks into our room. "The coffee burns." He says, still distracted by getting clean clothes on. I walk over with Draco tailing behind me. "Honey, someone's here." I tell him and he whips his head around, grabbing his shirt to cover himself. "Shit. Sorry sorry.... Not sorry what the hell is he doing here?" He asks, seeing Draco. "Figuring it out myself- Oh my god Freddie, how hot were those coffees?!" I ask, seeing a burn mark forming on his shoulder.

"I wanted them to be hot enough to make it home." He says sheepishly. I walk over, grabbing the burn medication I conjured after discovering having Fred Weasley as a boyfriend means a lot of burns to heal. I pull down the sleeve and rub the ointment on. "Ow..." He moans and I nod sadly.

When I finish I put a bandage on him and take his hand. I bring him to the fridge and grab a lolly. "Suck on this while it heals, it'll cool your body." I say and he winks, placing the lolly on his tongue. "While I suck on this why don't you- Why are you still here." He says, breaking his flirty behavior to look at Draco who is glaring at Fred. "Name's on the lease." He says with a smirk. "You're kidding. He's kidding." He says looking at me upset. I freeze trying to think of a solution when I finally sigh. "He's right..." I say, I shove my face in his chest and he glares at Draco angrily. "You are going to leave." He says through gritted teeth. "Where would I go huh?" He asks, still cocky. "Do I give a shit? No. Now your things are in the hall closet, take those bags and leave." He repeats, keeping me against him.

"I don't remember your name on the lease." He says with a smirk and Fred nods. "Yeah but I have my initials on-" He says as he start to raise my shirt trying to reveal the initials he cut during an exciting night two days ago. I slap his hand and he looks at me cheekily. "Anyways, I guess you can stay in the guest room and I'll go unpack." He says and I grab his jacket before he can leave the kitchen. "Fix it." I say sternly and he groans. "I'll stay in the guest room." He mumbles and I nod promptly.

***

I wake up next to Fred and look for whatever woke me. I get up realizing its 5:37 and shake Fred softly. "Baby we need to get ready for work. I'll go make breakfast." I whisper and he nods into the pillow, golden ginger hair surrounding his freckled face softly. "Baby, if we told George what happened he'd understand, let's sleep in." He offers and I sigh. "If I had another owner to take care of my shop then I would jump in your arms but..." I say and he groans nodding.

I make my way into the kitchen to make us omelets when a figure makes me jump. "Fuck." I mutter as Draco takes a sip of his coffee. "Honey?" I hear from behind me and I turn to see Fred fiddling with his tie. I walk over smiling to myself at his loose tie and messy hair. "Stupid Blood Traitor can't even tie his own tie." I hear Malfoy mumble as I tied Fred's tie, getting angry I nearly behead Fred on accident but he stops me with a soft hold on my hips. "Here's the thing, Malfoy, I'm doing this... To do this." Fred says smirking pulling me in for his signature kiss. I sigh into the kiss almost forgetting about my troubles until they cough to signify they're still there.

"I'll make our breakfast, you work on tea?" I ask and he salutes cutely. I start chopping up onions when I feel myself get enveloped in a hug, Fred's face snug in my neck. His lips threateningly close to my neck, butterfly kisses every now and then. "What are you up to?" I giggle as his hands tickle my sides. "I just love you..." He whispers and I smile. "I love you more." I whisper and he kisses my cheek. "I'll cook the omelet, you go watch your program. It's on." He whispers and I turn, placing my hands on the counter behind me. "I can take care of the food. Don't worry about me." I whisper back and he kisses my lips softly. "Please? When else will your show be on this early?" He asks and I smile. "If you insist. But at least let me cut the peppers." I say and he nods.

***

I'm cutting dough in my café when I hear the door open. I smile warmly, keeping my eyes to the counter. "Hello! I'll be with you in a moment." I say when someone pushes my chin up softly. "Hey darling." Draco says and I groan. "Malfoy, I'm not your darling anymore. I'm dating Fred." I state, my entire body growing warm with anger. "I know, I know... But I wanted to try and win you back." He states, holding up a gold necklace. "You think I can be bought?" I ask, seething with anger. His face looses color as he shakes his head. "N-no! I meant this as a sorry-" He begins but I slam my knife down. "Get out."

I walk into the twin's shop, unusually tired, I see George and walk over lazily. "Hey- What the hell!?" He asks and he grabs my arm, tugging me to Fred's office. "Where are we going?" I ask lazily. "FRED." He yells banging on the door. Fred opens the door angrily but the anger turns to worry when he lays his eyes on me, or to be specific my finger. I cut it, deep. "Oh look at that..." I say and he scoops me up. "Oh god oh god..." He mumbles as I lay my head on his shoulder. "You smell nice." I whisper and he shakes his head. "What the hell happened?" He asks and I frown. "Draco came to my shop and gave me this." I say and I show him the necklace and he looks at it upset as he buckles me into the car. "You've lost a lot of blood..." He whispers, tearing up a bit. "I'm fineeee." I tell him and he kisses my forehead softly. "Just stay awake..." He whispers and I nod softly.

I wake up in a hospital bed and Fred is holding my hand. "Baby?" I ask roughly, my throat burning from sleep. "Thank god." He exclaims, holding me close to his chest. "Are you alright? Do you need anything?! You don't understand how happy I am to see your eyes open." He tells me, clutching my shirt tightly.

***

Ever since the accident Fred kicked Malfoy out and I got someone to take over the shop while I heal. Fred's been clingy since because he says he nearly lost me and every time I remind him it was only a bit of blood loss but he always responds with "same thing". Malfoy has been sending flowers, expensive gifts, and baskets each with a note begging me to take him back. I laugh at every package because they come from Pansy's apartment. Now its two months later both me and Fred going strong, and Malfoy hasn't given up.

I walk into the house back from groceries with Fred nowhere to be found. I hear shaky breathing from our room. I walk in and see Fred in the corner crying silently. "Freddie?" I ask and he hides his face in his arms. "I'll be out in a minute." He whispers and I sit next to him on the floor. "What's wrong?" I ask and he cries again. "Nothing, don't worry about it." He whispers and I tug his hand to wrap around it. "Tell me..." I whisper back and place my free hand on his cheek. He leans into my hand, closing his eyes happily. "I love you..." I tell him and he sighs. "I'm sorry." He tells me and I furrow my eyebrows.

"Did you break something?" I ask and he laughs, wiping his nose. "No... I'm sorry I can't provide for you." He tells me and I finally am able to sit on his lap, his hands resting on my hips as he places his forehead in the crane of my neck. "What?" I ask and he digs his head further. "Malfoy gets you all these fancy gifts and I know I'm not enough. I don't have diamond necklaces, my flowers are always picked, and he has so much to offer... And I'm here being the idiot who has a joke shop instead of a stable job. Its a matter of time before he finally wins you back and I would understand, who'd want me over Malfoy..." He cries into my neck and I run my hands through his hair softly.

"No... Baby I don't care about jewels or money. I love your flowers, how you tell me why each one reminded you of me... I love you Freddie.... I could never be won by Malfoy wanna know why?" I coo into his ear softly. "Why?" He asks, looking up at me with his soft hazel eyes. "Because you've already won. A million times, you've won. When we became best friends at 8, when I saw you on the bus, when you left school, when you moved in with me after my break-up, not letting me ignore help by saying you needed a place to stay because George and Angelina were moving in when we both knew you could live at the burrow... Every day you have won me. How can I prove that?" I ask and he smiles sweetly. "You just did... I love you so so much." He whispers and I smile, kissing his nose.

I hear the doorbell ring and he looks towards the door upset. I groan getting up and open the door. Draco is there crying holding flowers. "Please." He whispers and I go to slam the door but he stops me. "I know I don't deserve it but please give me another chance. Weaslebee could never care for you, not like I can. So please take me back." He says and I get angered by those words. I grab his collar and shove him back. "Do not talk of Fred that way." I say and he scoffs. "You know he won't. I have money we can land on, he doesn't. So cut the bullshit and take me back." He spits and I punch him right in the nose. "Leave. And I don't mean my door, I mean my life Malfoy." I tell him as he doubles over, flicking him off.

I walk back into my house and find Fred smiling at me, eyes still puffy but I couldn't care less, he's beautiful. "I love-" Is all he can say before I grab his collar, pulling him into a long kiss. He leans into it after recovering from the shock. I wrap my arms around his neck as he pulls me to wrap my legs around his torso. He sits on the couch, pulling me flush against his body. "I love you so much..." He mumbles as we take a second to get air. "I love you more." I say, diving to attach my lips to his. He pulls away after a while and smiles, moving hair from my face softly. I smile back, a giggle escaping my lips. "What?" I ask and he kisses me softly. "I guess I did win." He whispers and I kiss him again.