#but when your legacy is presented to you‚ do you run or do you let it be?

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Dorian Pavus

[pit-and-the-pen]

At Least I Keep His Eyes in My Life

Day 2 of @erisweekofficial: Childhood/legacy - You and Eris weren’t meant to be, but the red hair definitely doesn’t come from your family…..

(Also, I’m picturing Asher around like 4-5 years old, i know very little about kids this age so sorry if it seems all over the place)

Warnings: Slightly sexual content, emotional infidelity, cheating, childbirth

WC: 5.7k

divider by the lovely @tsunami-of-tears (find the post here)

You were giggling like you were a teenager again. Sneaking out in the dead of night, cloak pulled tight against your head to block out the sparse light from the lanterns on the street. The temple was within your sight now and your heart was beating into your throat. You could very well get killed for what you were about to do but it would be worth it. 

The door was slightly opened, leaving you the opportunity to slip in without making a sound. The tiny light seeping through a door in the back led you to where you needed to go. 

The room was small, the fire keeping out the chill of the winter night. Those amber eyes filled with a softness reserved only for you as you walked into the room. Your smile was so wide that it made your jaw hurt, but nothing could wipe it from your face. Not when you finally dropped your cloak and saw the tears well in Eris’ eyes. The emerald dress you had worn on your first date all those years ago had you blushing as you remembered how it felt for his lips to be on yours for the first time.

You had never been happier in all your life than when the priestess joined your hands with that red ribbon. When you felt the pattern burn into your finger, right where your ring would sit once Eris was High Lord. Promises of your life together flowed from your lips like honey wine. Sweet and warm in the small space. Eris took your face between his hands like you were the most delicate flower in the world, his lips tasting like the tart red wine you two shared with each other. When you looked into his eyes, you saw your whole life. Your past together, your present joy, and all the love the future promised to bring you. 

That night was the best of your life. Eris whispering every promise on your skin as you too celebrated in your own way. Wrapped in each other until it was impossible to tell where you ended and he started. But the morning came too fast. The sun wiping away the joy as you realized you would have to go back to court and pretend that you didn’t know every piece of Eris’ soul. The scent shield hiding all evidence that you were Eris’ and he was yours. You parted with a long kiss that was tinged with sadness. But also the reminder that you would see him again once the sun set. The only time you were free to love him unashamedly. 

------

You should have known the mother was being far too kind to you. You should be grateful that you ever got to pretend that Eris was yours. Be grateful for that one little moment of happiness you had been granted. It was more than you ever deserved in this life. 

Eris had been walking with you through the long hallways of the Autumn court palace. Your laughter flitting through the empty space, carrying through the halls like a symphony that was all of Eris’ composition. 

But something suddenly felt very wrong. Eris had gone wholly still next to you, his joke dying on his tongue. You looked at him and could only watch in horror as you followed his eye line. He dropped your hand quickly, letting it hang limply by your side devoid of his calming warmth. It was like you could see that golden thread as it stretched across the room. Tying Eris not to you, but to some other lady of the court. Her eyes were wide as saw the same string that tied her to Eris, to your husband, at the same time he did. Your heart shattered on the floor as the female in front of you all but squealed with joy. There was not a touch of warmth coming off of Eris right now. Too frozen to go after the girl that was inevitably running to tell her friends what had just happened. You wanted to run after her, to beg her to be silent but your begging would only prompt her to tell more people. So you only stood in the wallway, watching as every thought of your future came shattering down around you. 

Your own mating bond snapped not long after. Only adding to the agony that seemed to follow your every breath. Throwing the final handful of dirt on the possibility of any future with Eris in it. You had been visiting the day court for a personal matter. Seeing an old friend's new babe. The feeling of love that the couple shared pushed you towards one of the many bars in day. 

You never assumed you would have a mate. The thought of ever loving someone the way you loved Eris, of being tied to someone like that was utterly ridiculous. 

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

Eris and you had snuck away for the second time in as many days. With his mating ceremony rapidly approaching, there was less and less time for the two of you to be together alone. He traced over the spot on your finger where your marriage ceremony mark was, the one that proved to you exactly where his heart laid.

“We should just run away. Leave all of this.” Eris muttered, eyes locked on those swirling patterns.

“He would find you and you know it.”

You didn’t have to say who. Eris’ father, while slightly disappointed about the outcome of the mating bond, was just happy it was within the nobility of Autumn. 

“No one could change how I feel about you. Mating bond or not, it will always be you. I need you to remember that.”

—————-

It had been five years since you found your mate. He was sweet. Sweeter than you could have hoped for, but it wasn’t the love match you had dreamed up when you were little. He knew you had a hard time returning his affections. Didn’t complain when you only shared a bed with him for sleep after the mating frenzy was over. A fact he didn’t hold against you. You were from autumn. Bred to be the partner of a certain would-be high lord. It had been a disappointment to everyone when Eris’ bond snapped for someone else. It was far more than a disappointment to you. Heartbreaking. Earth shattering. An utter upheaval of your entire life. Only solidified when you bonded with Sol. The mother thought that you weren’t good enough for Eris. 

——

Childbirth was one of the most painful things you had ever experienced. Sol sat through all of it with you. Sat through the screaming and you clutching his hand so tightly that you felt the bones move. You would apologize if it wasn’t taking every ounce of your focus to remember to push. 

“Just one more big one. I can see the head.” And you wanted to cry. Maybe you were crying but you found it in yourself to bear down for one last push. There was silence in the room for a heartbeat before a perfectly healthy wail pierced the air. Your head fell back on the pillow at the sound, breathing for the first time in what felt like hours. 

You heard faint whispers coming from the healers in between your legs. But you were too exhausted to truly care what they were saying. Just relieved for it to be all over, for the babe that you were now cradling in your arms. Still covered in afterbirth, you had decided that nothing in the world had ever been as beautiful as your son. Your heart warmed as you saw those amber eyes staring back at you. Amber eyes. The thought was enough to send a cold chill over your whole body. As you looked into those eyes that absolutely did not belong to you, or your mate. Your hands shook as you peeled back the blanket enough to spot the matching mahogany curls, however sparse, there was no denying the color. Your throat felt stiff, breathing became difficult. You felt Sol move to your side, feeling your flood of emotions through the bond. 

“Darling, it’s only normal to feel overwhelmed, you just-” His words cut off with a ragged breath as he saw the same thing you did. The silence filled the room as he must have been doing the same mental math you were. You felt the rush of his emotions down the bond. Shock, betrayal. And then something unexpected, acceptance. 

“He is beautiful.” Was all he said. 

“Sol-” He held up a hand to cut off the apology on your tongue. Because that’s what you should be doing. You should be groveling at his feet, begging for forgiveness. He could kill you right on the spot as well as your babe. The babe that was undeniably not his. That looked so much like the newly crowned High Lord, it burned the edge of the scar in  your heart that had only just begun to heal. How could you ever forget him now? This child was supposed to be the start of your new life. The proof that you needed to tell yourself that Sol was the one that you were supposed to end up with. This future was no longer supposed to be yours. The future that you dreamed of in that small run down temple. That was a life that had been erased from your story. 

“What should we name him?” Was all Sol said as he looked down at the child. 

“Asher.” You didn’t hesitate. Sol didn’t even blink at the autumn court name. He only nodded and placed a small kiss on your forehead. 

You were about to say something else when the babe in your arms began to fuss and you quickly pushed him into your chest, instantly soothing him as he began to nurse. This many emotions should be impossible to feel all at once. You should feel mortified. You should be ashamed but some mascostic part of you was overjoyed. You could keep some part of the love of your life with you. While you might never be able to see what Eris would be as a father, you would get to see just exactly what his son would be like. And you could only clutch your babe further to your chest as you mourned the future that the mother destined had not been you before in the same breath, you thanked the mother for her small mercies. 

———

You never thought you would be back in the Autumn court. Having moved to Day with your mate, you left without a second thought. But standing amongst the rich colors and ripe scent of your home court, you realized how much you had missed it. As you walked down the street, holding your son tight to your chest, your mate's hand in the other, your mind started to wonder. You and Eris used to run up and down these streets. There was so much light in them now. Boarded up windows now overflowing with flowers and flickering lights from fireplaces. This was nothing like the court you had fled from. Eris had changed so much in only a handful of years, just like he said he would. “I’ll make this a court something you would be proud of, something deserving of your beauty” Eris had whispered against your skin the night before it all went to hell, the night you had conceived the small child currently pulling on your hair. 

“Behave.” You said, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips as Asher giggled at you, pressing his face against your neck. The motion tugged on the edges of the thick hat that was covering his head. Sol didn’t hesitate to right it, placing a quick kiss to your cheek to cover the motion. It was chilly enough that the hat would have been necessary anyway, especially since the day court tended to be on the warmer side. 

Your bags were brought up to your room in the palace the moment you arrived, which had prompted your idea of showing Sol around the streets you had once been so familiar with. A small part of your heart ached when you saw the new shops and heard the shouts of children. Sounds that once would have caused sharp commands of keeping quiet, sounds that would have caused fear of drawing the wrong attention. If this was so unfamiliar, a part of you wondered what else had changed. Would you even recognize the high lord you were attending the party of?

The thoughts bounced around in your head, uncomfortable. You had almost thought of denying the invitation when it arrived, held it over the flames with every intention of dropping it in but it felt like the coward's option. Sol was expected to go to events such as this as part of his duties as one of the many researchers for the day court. Knowledge collectors that would frequent other courts, trading for any information to add to the sprawling libraries of the court. Your mate had told you plenty of times that he would understand if you didn’t want to come, your son was young enough that wherever you went, he would come as well. You brushed it off, but now standing in the cobblestone streets, you were kicking yourself for not accepting his offer. 

After your stroll in the city, it was time to start getting ready for dinner. Much to your surprise there was a gown already laid out on the bed. Your chest felt tight as you stared at the dark green fabric. You shook your head to hold back the tears that were threatening to ruin your makeup. The fabric felt familiar on your skin. Sol said nothing about the gown that you most certainly didn’t pack, only offered his hand out. “You look radiant.” He brought your hand up to his lips when you placed yours against his. You could only smile up at him, hoping he couldn’t feel the tremble of your fingers. 

The walk to the dining room was something that you could have done in your sleep. But, just like the city outside, the palace was so different that it had you doubting your steps. Although, it seemed your memory hadn't failed you because soon you were greeted with those carved doors that swirled like the leaves in an autumn storm.

You had pleaded with your mother to let you skip the dinner. You had heard the whisperings of how cruel the high lord and his sons were. Honestly, you were scared of meeting them. Meeting him. Your betrothed. The words felt weird in your brain. You knew very well what that would mean and it didn’t all sound appealing. Your mother was having none of your whining, forcing the laces on your corset tighter still. The air rushed out of your lungs at the harsh pull, your hand on your bedpost was the only thing that stopped you from crashing back into her. She led you, snapping at you to calm the trembling in your hands. “You do not show weakness.” was the mantra she lived by. Power hungry since her birth, you were a way to gain power and you knew that from a young age. The doors of the dining room entered before you, interrupting the patterns you were following with your eyes in an attempt to calm yourself down. It was clear you had stumbled upon an argument, the high lord's face was tenser than you had seen it previously. He was staring daggers at what you could only assume was one of his sons, if the red hair was any indication.

Your eyes followed his and you fought the shock off of your face. Saying he was handsome was an understatement. Even through his anger he was gorgeous. Curly red hair was pulled back from his face, stray pieces framing his face. The deep emerald shirt he wore made the smattering of freckles on his face almost glow in contrast. When his amber eyes turned to you, you quickly looked to the ground. Embarrassed you had been caught staring so intently. 

Your mother introduced you quickly. The high lord stood in front of you, appraising you. A hand reached out to grab a lock of your hair and every part of you went deathly still. You fought the flinch as he stepped away from you. “You’ll do. Now, I would like to introduce my son. Your future husband, Eris.” Against your will, you smiled warmly at him as the handsome male rose to his feet. He grabbed your hand and placed a light kiss to your knuckles before he guided you to your seat beside him.

——

You didn’t have to search for him. You knew you would have found him in any room, no matter the crowd. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you were suddenly unable to look away from the high lord in front of you. It was so much harder than you had thought it would have been. Seeing him, that crown on his head. That was when a motion by his side caught your attention, brought you back to the present. His mate was beautiful, hair perfectly curled, sweeping down across her shoulders. A nasty part of you thought how washed out the maroon dress made her. It didn’t go with her light green eyes, her fair blonde hair. You pushed down the cruel thoughts and focused on the pressure of Sol’s hand on yours. Eris only gave you a beaming smile before you turned your head away from him. The only seats open were closer to his end of the table and you quickly sat yourself down. Placing your hand in Sols

Everyone in court was here. The difference of the loud room was enough to make a smile touch your face. There were even some familiar faces, children you had been raised up with. Friends that had witnessed all of the drama that unfolded. 

Dinner passed without event. Small talk became louder as more bottles of wine were shared. Sol had taken up a conversation with one of the lords that managed the farms for the autumn court healers. You did your best to join the conversation when you could add something, making a point to ignore the eyes burning a hole into the side of your head. His presence was nearly suffocating, it weighted the air, nearly choking you with the smell of him. Mercifully you made it out of dinner without having to talk to him. Sol didn’t question when you dismissed yourself the moment after dessert was served. You went to collect Asher from the room full of children, making sure his hat was still firmly seated on his head. You pulled it off when you got to your room, picking out his clothes for bed before you let him get changed. After you pulled him tight against your chest and told him one of his favorite bedtime stories and watched him drift off to sleep. 

-----

You turned around a corner, not so much running but walking fast to try to get to your hiding spot in time. Asher had demanded the two of you play hide and seek after waking up early. You were more than happy to oblige the demand, telling him to count. To his credit, he had done a great job with the first few numbers. But quickly got side tracked and you heard the loud “Ready or not” echo through the halls and had to put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. 

You almost stumbled back when you crashed into a firm chest. A hand wrapped around your waist to steady you and you didn’t have to look up to know exactly who it was. You tried to step back. Tried to ignore the shot of electricity that raced through you at the touch. 

“Eris.” You politely said. You tried to step around him but he moved with you. Perfectly mirroring your movement. 

“I didn’t get to speak to you last night.” His voice was like a balm to you, even now. Your ears seemed to perk up at the sign, instantly searching for it even when he had stopped talking. 

“It didn’t feel..appropriate.” 

“Why wouldn’t it? We were friends our whole childhood. There's nothing wrong with friends catching up.” 

“Because we were..” You couldn’t form the words. 

“More than friends?” 

“Yes, Eris.” You sighed heavily. You didn’t want to be having this conversation in the middle of the palace. “Now please. I-”

He wrapped a soft hand around your arm and pulled you behind one of the pillars in the hallway. 

“Tell me you still feel it. That pull towards each other?” He whispered, his face suddenly so close to yours that you could count his freckles. 

Eris pulled you tight against him. Every inch of him pressing against you. Your heartbeat sped up despite yourself. “This is a horrible idea.” You spoke the words but made no effort to move, instead you leaned into the heat of him. Drinking in the stolen moments. His hand lightly brushed your chin and you allowed him to guide your head up, your lips were inches away from each other. Eris’ eyes were trained on your lips and every ounce of strength left your body at the hunger you saw in them. He moved slowly, giving you time to pull away. And you wish you could have, wish you could have done anything except press closer to him. When your lips connected it was like he had bathed you in his fire. It was heaven and hell all at once. You sucked down greedy lungfuls of his intoxicating scent, the clove and cinnamon smell you could recognize anywhere. His lips were soft and demanding. Tongue forcing your mouth open, stroking the inside of your mouth in a way that your hands reach for any part of him. His own hands had rested on the small of your back, clutching you to him. Neither of you moved to take the kiss further. It seemed to go on forever but it still wasn’t enough when you pulled away, panting for air. His hands only tightened on you when you tried to step away. 

“Eris-” 

“Mommy! I found you!” Both of you jumped apart.You swore you felt your heart stop. You had completely forgotten how you had ended up in the hallway in the first place, too overwhelmed with Eris’ presence. You could only stare in horror as Eris stared at the small child standing before the two of you. Eris knew you had a child, had sent you presents the weeks after to congratulate you and Sol. You forced a smile onto your face and swept your son off of his feet. 

“Of course you did, my smart boy. Come on, I’ll let you hide this time.” You pulled your son tighter to you, shifting his weight to a hip. He was almost getting too big to comfortably carry. 

“How high should I count?.” You asked, smiling down at him. 

“A thousand.” He didn’t hesitate.

“A thousand?!” You pitched your voice up, letting him know your surprise. 

“Yep. A thousand.” 

“Well then you better get to hiding, I’ll be counting forever.” 

“Will you play with us?” Asher asked, looking at Eris fully now. You struggled against the squirming child in your arms. 

“I would lo-”

“Asher. I’m sure the high lord is very busy. Far too busy to play with us.”

“But-” Your son started to protest. 

“Your mother is right. I forgot I had a meeting, but how about this, I’ll have the cooks bring up a treat to make up for my absence.” His eyes flickered to yours on the last word. “And it will allow me time to talk to your mother.”

Asher lost interest after hearing he would have a special treat, always code for something sweet. His eyes were round as saucers. 

“Thank you!” He said before he turned his focus back to you. “Did you hear that mommy, I’m going to get a treat.” 

“Well then we should start our next game now. It might take me until then to find you in this place.” 

His giggled filled the air at the idea. You placed a kiss on his cheek before you set him down on his feet. He didn’t hesitate before he ran off in the opposite direction, legs wobbling slightly at his speed. 

The silence hung heavy in the air. 

“Y/n-”

“I have to go.” You turned quickly, feeling Eris’ hand on your arm. You quickly removed it and started in the direction Asher had run off to. You couldn’t find the strength to look back and see whatever emotion was swirling in Eris’ eyes. Refused to listen to the questions that were written all over his face and went to go find your son. 

It had been easy to find him. You knew every inch of this palace like the back of your hand, and had already found all the good hide and seek spots during your years spent helping Eris look for his brothers. 

Sol was already in your room when you brought your bleary eyed son into the room. He was still taking naps during the day, despite how much he would fight against them. Shame suddenly creeped into you as you recalled the events from earlier. You were half expecting him to scream and yell at you, like Eris’ hand prints were burned into your skin and he would be able to tell. 

“Eris came by earlier.” Your heart dropped, he knew and you haven't been the one to tell him. “He was asking a lot of questions about Asher.” 

“Oh.” Was all you said as you placed your son down on his bed. 

“I told him if he wanted answers, he should talk to you. To which he said, he tried and you had all but ran away.” There was no accusation in his words. Just like normal for him. He was more kind than you ever deserved. 

You sighed as you softly closed the door to Asher's attached room. 

“I didn’t expect it to happen like that.” You knew you needed to tell him what had happened before that. “Eris and I-”

“Whatever happened, happened. I expected something.” He sighed. “How are you feeling, I know you were trying to avoid this.” 

You approached your mate, you gently placed a hand on his cheek. 

“I don’t know how you put up with me.” You felt the sting of tears prickle in the back of your teeth. “I don’t know what I expected. It’s not like he could stay locked in his room the whole time he was here. I just hoped that I could have controlled it, I was a little blind sided.”

“Whatever you choose to tell him, I’m beside you.” Sol looked so deep in your eyes it was like he could see through you. “No matter what you decide. I’m always here.” 

“I think I need to talk to him.” 

Sol only nodded. “I’ll be right here.” You placed a soft kiss on Sol’s lips. You truly didn’t deserve him. 

It wasn’t hard to find Eris. He only had a few spots he went when there was something troubling him. Just outside of the grounds of the palace, the tiny garden where you two had kissed for the first time. 

“Eris.” You started, suddenly not knowing what to say. He turned to face you and your heart lurched. He had been crying. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was soft, truly heartbroken. 

“What would it have accomplished? You have a mate, I have a mate”

“Did you know we haven’t been able to…” HIs voice trailed off before he started again. “Her sister has more kids then she knows what to do with and we just can’t. We assumed it was me.” 

You couldn’t find the words to answer, not knowing what to say. Hating the images that his words painted. Of course they would have tried. Sol and you had thought you had gotten insanely lucky. Besides the initial mating frenzy, you had never slept with him. You stayed in the same bed but when you tried to be intimate with your mate it usually led to you crying, wrapped in his arms. It hurt some selfish part of you to know that Eris didn’t seem to have the same issue. 

“y/-” His voice broke you out of your thoughts. 

“Don’t” Your voice broke, giving away the tears you were desperately fighting back. “What’s done is done. Don’t start this now.”

“I would have made you my High Lady. Did you ever question why she wasn't?”

“I didn’t think about you one way or another.” A lie. A lie that even though Eris could see right through, cut deep nonetheless.

“Not even when you look at our child?”

“My child, Eris, is none of your concern.” 

He flinched then, flinched like you had slapped him. 

“Does he know?” He wasn’t asking about your mate. 

“Of course not. And as long as I’m alive, he never will.” 

“No one has ever questioned?”

“No.”

“What happens when he starts showing the signs? The first son of a high lord will start showing powers sooner or later. Tell me, darling, has he started burning the curtains yet? Setting his clothes on fire?” You kept your face as neutral as possible. Revealing nothing. “He has. I was younger than him when I started presenting the signs. So, tell me again that you don’t think about me when you look at him. Tell me that some part of you doesn’t still love me and I will walk away right now.” 

“I don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He kept prying. Was trying to get those damning words out of her. 

“I don’t love you. I love my child. I love my mate.” 

You saw something in his face fall, a light in his eyes fade away. 

“And if any part of you loves me, you’ll leave us alone. I’ll deal with the inconveniences when they present themselves.” You spit out, forcing venom to lace the words. 

Eris reached for you, arms flying out to grab onto any part of the woman he still loved with all of his heart. But you were already walking away. Leaving those words hanging in the air, the threat in those words unmistakable. 

You prayed you were far enough away before the sobs racked through you. They were strong enough to knock your knees out from under you but you had to get back to your room. No one in the palace could see you fall apart like this. You managed to make it to your room, sliding along the wall, knees hugged tightly against your chest. Every part of your body locked when you felt a strong hand rubbing along your back. The smell was wrong. Not cinnamon and pine, but honeysuckle and citrus. Your mate. His presence should have comforted you, and you desperately wished it would. Sol knew when you looked up at him, tears glazing your eyes, knew that whatever conversation had just occurred that it broke you. Some little part of you that you had held onto all these years, Eris had broken it. You wanted to hide it, assure your mate that he was enough. That was what you had always told yourself, told him and he gladly accepted the lie every time. 

“You still love him.” Not a question. Not an accusation either. Spoken plainly like the truth it was. You nodded, sobbing so hard you retched.

“I want to go home.” You choked out, throat threatening to close. 

“This is your home.” You shook your head, the words bouncing around like angry wasps. 

“No. Not anymore.”

“Wherever he is, that will be your home.” There was no pain in his voice. Sol had always been too understanding, too gentle and kind. He knew from the moment he met you what Eris had meant to you. “I don’t deserve you. Either of you.” 

“It was never about deserving.” Sol was on the ground in front of you. Arms wrapped around you, absorbing each shudder of your body. “You will never love me the same way. But you love me in every way that matters. So if you want to go home, then we go home. If you want to stay here, then you stay here. We’ll figure out everything else as we go.” His words only made you cry harder. 

“Why do you not hate me? You’re my mate and here I am.”

“After all that you’ve sacrificed… Do you hate me?” He asked, some light teasing in his voice. You shook your head. 

“How could I?”

“Exactly. Now what do you want to do?”

“I want to go home. To our home. I want to forget about all of this.” You took a deep breath, breath hitching on every lungful. “I want to learn to love you. Love us.” you looked into his eyes, warm golden eyes that you had always ignored. Now you had never been so grateful for them, golden not amber. “If you would want that.” You added. Not daring to hope that he would

Sol smiled, a real smile that filled you with warmth from the bond. 

“I would like that very much.”

The pair of you just sat there. Holding each other and you said goodbye to that small part of your heart that you thought would never heal. Buried it. The ache let you know it would never be forgotten, that part of you that loved Eris so deeply it outlasted a mating bond. But you would keep a small part of him. Always. At least you could keep his eyes in your life. And wrapped in the arms of your mate, it would be enough. You would make it be enough.

[merotwst]

EVEN WHEN THE LEARNING'S DONE AND NOTHING'S NEW !

‹ . housewardens ›

· scenario drabbles

⇝moments that happened in your married life.

[ n: a little something to get myself out of a writers block. not proofread and not very confident of my writing bcs ahaha i havent written in a hot minute + no motivation. this took me almost a week to finish but i still hope u guys enjoy ! ilyyyy ]

⑇

- - - → tw. children (does that count as a tw?????? idk man kids jumpscare in kalim's part)

⑇

riddle rosehearts ‹ heartslabyul ›

it wasn't rare for riddle to be working so late. he was a busy man and lived up to his parents' legacy of being the best of the best. you were aware of this when you said yes to his proposal to spend a life with him forever but as his spouse, it pains you to see him overwork himself sometimes. it wasn't the first time you woke from your quiet slumber at 2 in the morning to an empty space beside you. your feet padded across the cold marble floor through the hallway adorned with photographs gilded in gold of you and him that have been taken over the years. a soft knock at the mahogany doors to his study and a quiet response from the other side permitting you to come in. the tea on the tray you carried made riddle sigh with relief, the tension in his body seemingly fading away. he had a soft smile on his face as he brought the teacup to his lips.

“come to bed, riddle. it's so late.” you urge him gently as you made yourself comfortable on one of the chair on the other side of his desk.

he gave you weary look, “i'm not sure i can yet, my love. there's still so much work to do.”

you let out a soft sigh, “i figured as much.” you whispered, standing up and walking around the desk to give him a soft kiss on the lips, “i'll be heading back to sleep then.” you inform him and quietly made your way back to the room.

it wasn't rare for riddle to be working so late. he was a busy man who lived up to his parents' legacy of being the best of the best. it was rare, however, for him to softly close the bedroom door behind him leaving his study and his paperwork unfinished to slip under the covers and wrap his arms around your form.

“what made you change your mind?” you asked, a loving hand on his cheek.

“you did,” he said with a sheepish smile on his face, “you always do.”

⑇

leona kingscholar ‹ savanaclaw ›

when you choose to accept a prince's request for your hand hand marriage, you're not only accepting him as a person, you're also accepting the responsibility that comes with becoming royalty. since the day you and leona exchanged your vows, for better or for worse and till death do you part, the title of royal has been embedded onto your name and cemented into sunset savannah's history for all eternity. what you do and say will be seen, heard and talked about by the public. it's your duty to be present, not just for your husband the royal family, but for yourself as well.

so you do your part. you attend the balls, you speak out on important issues that need attention. you smile, you wave, conversing with other country's political leaders and powerful people. you learn to adapt and navigate through the life of a royalty one step at a time. you were doing your best but sometimes it felt like it wasn't enough. and that's when he comes in to yank an ipad out of your hands and snap you out of your trance. he says dwelling on ridiculous articles and getting yourself all affected negatively by it doesn't do anyone any good. that's when he wipes the frustrated hot tears from your cheeks as he sits beside you on the bed, a softer tone now etched in his tone when he spoke, “i know it isn't easy.”

you sniffle in response, your voice shaky as you spoke in uneven breaths, “i'm trying so hard,” a sob, “why does it always feel like i'm always running short? why am i sometimes being treated like i don't know what's happening?”

leona's tail flicks, “did the articles tell you that? or was it the servants whispering in the halls? the people in the ballrooms?” he places a hand on your chin and gently makes you look at him, “listen, i don't know what you overheard or read—but the fact that you undermine your own achievements for the validation of other people is annoying the shit out of me.”

his eyes bore into you as his hands squeezed yours, “you're not royalty from birth, but the amount of things you were willing to change—willing to do just so you can be with me still constantly leaves me in awe. the politics, the royal etiquette and other pointless bullshit takes years to master. you're almost halfway through the progress bar despite being so new to it all.” leona places his forehead against yours, “even if the whole world is against you, i'll be by your side. i've never been more proud to have you as my partner. fuck everyone else.”

when you choose to accept a prince's request for your hand hand marriage, you're not only accepting him as a person, you're also accepting the responsibility that comes with becoming royalty. since the day you and leona exchanged your vows, for better or for worse. you've done all of this just for him. you would keep doing it just for him because know he'd kidnap every star in he sky if you asked him to. you can cry, you can scream, you can be angry—but he's always there and always will be and till death do you part.

you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding in the entire time. and with a raspy voice and a genuine smile, you whisper back.

“fuck everyone else.”

⑇

azul ashengrotto ‹ octavinelle ›

homesickness is something you've dealt with the first time you were practically punted over to this twisted world you now reside in. but over time, you realize that this world was always more comfortable for you. it became home whenever you were in the arms of your lover. you found comfort in azul's arms so gentle and tender around you—as if you were the rarest and most fragile seashell he picked up from the depths of his home in the sea. eventually, you stopped thinking of the life you've left behind. you were happy here and that's what mattered.

likewise, he found his home in your arms around his neck in a warm embrace like the first rays of the sun just as the winter season was coming to an end. but unlike you, azul had access to his home. he just never had much opportunity to come back to visit. his life with you on land was what you both collectively decided on. a house near the beach, but nowhere near where his home is at. just enough to breathe in the salt air and the cool embrace of the ocean breeze on his skin. and on more than one occasion, you've seen him let the waves wash over his feet after he'd come back from work. his shoes in his hands as he mindlessly watched the sun set over the horizon.

“a penny for your thoughts?” your hand subconsciously finding its way to his, fingers interlocking together and fitting together perfectly.

“just thinking of the coral sea.”

“i've told you last time we should go to visit again.”

azul let out a sigh and you knew why he didn't like going back to the coral sea—to several memories of his past littered across every corner of the place. he looked at you wearily, the dimming orange beams of the sun coated his face with a lovely hue that made him look almost ethereal and melancholic.

“it's hard going back there sometimes,” he admitted, his head hung, “it took a lot for me to take you back there... to show you everything i've been running away from.”

“and i love every part of it. every part of you, azul.”

you squeeze his hand gently, “it's never always sunshine and calm seas. and i'm always here to embrace you when storms come.”

homesickness is something azul's never really dealt with in the years he's been away from sea. he was happy to be out of there and start anew—but he didn't have a home. no, he was always relying on himself. but over time, he realized that this world was always more comfortable with you. it became home whenever he was your arms, his lover. you were his new home. and no matter where he would end up, he always finds himself running home to you.

⑇

kalim al-asim ‹ scarabia ›

“baba's here!” was exclaimed by an energetic boy popping out from the blanket fort you all built together. giggles bounced around the walls as little pairs of feet padded along the floor. the children both ran to their father, the younger one trying her best not to trip and fall on her way there. kalim, who was still in conversation with jamil as he entered the room, had been cut off by the squeals and giggles of the children running to his embrace.

“ya malayiki! 'abi saeid jidana liruyatik maratan 'ukhraa!” (oh, my angels! dad's so happy to see you again!) your husband exclaimed excitedly, wasting no time kneeling to catch their warm embraces in full, “have you two been good?” he asked, lifting your daughter up in his arms earning an excited giggle from her and taking your son's hand in his free one before standing back up, “naeam ya 'baba!” (yes daddy!), your little girl giggled excitedly, “we built a house!” she squealed, pointing at the blanket fort. it was quite a big fort filled with small fairy lights and plenty of pillows and maybe a few snacks littered here and there from their 'construction break'. you three had spent hours making ‘the biggest house for baba’ for when he would get back and the kids are evidently very proud of the outcome of their hard work.

“(maman/baba etc.) said we could sleep here tonight!” the little boy chimed in, shaking his dad's hand to catch his attention. kalim could only grin widely at this, “well,” he started, “since you both worked so hard building the house, i say we all sleep here tonight!” the gasps from the kids and the happy cheers that followed indicated the joy they felt. he's always been a natural with them and you always adored him with children. it's just that he can get quite busy sometimes, which even he has told you about how saddened he is whenever he's apart from his family. and so whenever he has time, you can be sure every second is devoted to you and the kids. his whole heart is with you, after all. always has been since the moment he laid eyes on you all those years ago.

“alright kids,” he said, placing a kiss on your daughter's cheek and squeezing your son's hand gently, “jamil will take you to get you cleaned and ready for bed, okay?” they both grinned in response, “okay!” the kids said simultaneously.

“kalim.” jamil gave a disapproving look, “how many times must i tell you that this is the nanny's job and not mine.” he said in an annoyed tone while simultaneously taking the little girl in his arms and holding onto the boy's hand. this is when you come in from behind, wrapping your arms around your husband's waist, “aw, but they like you, jamil. don't you, kids?”

“i love uncle jamil!” the younger one giggled, “he's one of the funny grown ups.”

jamil let out a defeated sigh, “come on, children. let's get you both cleaned up.” he said, softly shaking his head and if you looked close enough you could see the soft smile on his lips as they walked away.

as soon as the silly questions of, ‘when will you get married’ and ‘can i pet your parrot, uncle?’ faded off into the distance, kalim wasted no time peppering every inch of your face in kisses and tackling you to the blanket fort as both of you giggled and laughed like middle schoolers rolling over the soft silky fabric under your skin. safe to say no matter how old you get, the love you and your husband share will forever remain the same as when it first blossomed from years ago.

⑇

vil schoenheit ‹ pomefiore ›

vil liked to keep things organized. he liked to keep a schedule he strictly follows like the skincare routine every night or the color patterns of what fashions he'd decide to wear that day. it's the same as when you were both courting. he had a routine to follow whenever you would see each other on a date. flowers, then he'd check if you dressed right, take you out and give you the best night of your life.

and you know how people say ‘change is good’? well, there are also some things that stay the same over the years. and that was good for you, too. like how he'd book the best restaurant in the city or take you out for a romantic cruise on your wedding anniversary. those nights were always perfect. and at the end of those nights is the same as well. paparazzi flashing their cameras at your face asking the most ridiculous questions. people getting in your business. that was the down side of your relationship with vil, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle. you knew what you were getting into the day you married him.

but oh sevens. when will they give you a break? it's your wedding anniversary with vil again tonight and he had a whole evening planned out for you. but there was a swarm of paparazzi outside the penthouse you were staying in. your husband had an upcoming movie and that had everyone abuzz and trying to get some statements out of him. there were so many to the point where you both had to go back inside because you could see the camera flashes with your eyes closed. well, you could. vil was used to it. but he wasn't about to force you to run out there with him again. your perfect night hasn't started yet and you already looked exhausted from that temporary encounter. vil silently cursed them for that.

after maybe 30 minutes of waiting for them to leave and with no luck of it ever happening, the blonde stood up from his spot on the couch, “that's it,” he spoke with a tone of finality in his voice, “get changed, darling. we're leaving.”

the confusion was evident in your face and it only made sense when vil came out wearing a hoodie, jeans and mask over his face. he hated wearing such common looking clothes, but sometimes situations call for it. and for you, frankly, he would do almost anything.

vil liked to keep things organized. he liked to keep a schedule he strictly follows like the skincare routine every night or the color patterns of what fashions he'd decide to wear that day. he absolutely hated when his plans wouldn't pull through but sometimes he finds serendipity in even the most dreary situations with you. you could spend your anniversary on a special yacht with the best waiters serving you first class meals and a candlelit dinner or just in a parking lot inside your car with cheap wine that you both agreed tasted awful but kept drinking anyway and at the end of the day, everything still works out. as long as you're by his side, he can learn to be contented even with all the disorganization of ruined plans as long as he's laughing to trashy radio podcasts and temporarily (today's a special exception, he says) ruining his diet for you.

⑇

idia shroud ‹ ignihyde ›

your husband, your favorite person, best friend, the only one you love enough to spend the rest of your life with... can sometimes be a little irritating. you know idia better than most people around you. he wasn't exactly the easiest person to get to know because of his very reserved personality but he is one of the smartest and funniest people you know. and you'd hoped that since he is one of the smartest people you know and you're actually married to him, he'd lend a hand when you're trying to do a little bit of spring cleaning to at least make the house look like it's a habitable place and not just a reserve for an endless supply of red bull and monster energy drinks. though the house wasn't necessarily ‘messy’, but it always seemed pretty empty and lacking a bit of life to it. so you thought of doing a bit of rearranging, putting up new decorations and replacing a couple furnitures which you both had bought and majority picked out by him.

this has been the third time you'd checked in his office and your patience was growing thin. you watched him from the doorway as he typed away some sort of code in his computer which was the only light source in the room. you crossed your arms as you called out his name, “idia shroud.” before flicking the light switch on making him hiss at the sudden brightness. he flinched upon seeing you. uh-oh. you used his full name, this can't be good.

“i've been calling you down to help me assemble the table. i'm not good at building things!”

“and i told you i'd be there in a bit. i'm just finishing things up around here.”

“idia.”

“okay! fine. jeez you don't have to threaten me.” he threw his hands up in the air in defeat as he stood up from his chair, “you're lucky i love you.”

you cocked a brow at this comment, arms still crossed across your chest and he rolled his eyes, “fine. other way around, i know. i'm lucky you love me.” he sighed but this time with a smile on his face as he leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead, “now where is that table you need me to build?”

your husband, your favorite person, best friend, the only one you love enough to spend the rest of your life with... can sometimes be a little irritating. but you know idia better than most people around you. and he sometimes would seem detached and spends most of his time in his own company in front of his computer, he truly cares about you and your happiness. the amount of love he shows through the things he does, even the most menial of tasks like bearing the new, less darker curtain colors that you wanted to put up on the windows or stopping whatever new project he was trying to develop to help you move the new couches around the house. he would never do this for anyone else. and as you both sit under the kitchen counter, a bag of open chips on the floor and soda in your hands looking over at the new house makeover you both spent all day working on, you smiled.

“i'm lucky you love me.” you said, taking a sip of your soda and putting your head on his shoulder. he let out a short, breathy laugh before placing a soft kiss on your temple, “wanna go play mario kart and ruin our newly bought couch with chip crumbs?”

“sure.” you said, slowly standing up. you took a few seconds to stare at each other before you started sprinting to the couch, “last one to get there is in charge of cleaning it up!”

“hey, no fair!”

“nothing's fair in mario kart, babe!”

⑇

malleus draconia ‹ diasomnia ›

you once told your husband that one of your most favorite things about him is his smile and the way it so gently breaks out around you. his booming laughter that follows as you eat dinner at the big, lonely castle that was once the place he walked around alone that now feels more alive after he'd married you. you make the most emptiest of places feel alive with love and laughter. you painted his life with colors that he could never see with anyone else.

and speaking of painting, he'd snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the metal part of he paintbrush clinked on the glass of the jar as the painter dipped the brush into the water. he gave you a glance where you were sat, looking straight at the back of the canvas as if trying to bore a hole onto the painting focusing on keeping your face straight and expressionless as instructed. it was traditional for briar valley's royalty to have their portraits painted whenever there was an addition to the family. and this case, the new addition was you when you both married. and now as he sat beside you, stealing glances he was sure you noticed by the way your lips twitched, he couldnt help but think of how the morning sun's rays seeping into the room that bathed your skin with the soft golden glow of the 10:00 am sun. it made you look absolutely beautiful. well, you always looked beautiful in his eyes. it's why—

someone cleared their throat.

“your highness,” the painter called out to him, “eyes front, if you please.”

he quickly straightened himself, “my apologies.” he hastily responded. he could hear you suck in a breath beside him, probably trying to contain the giggle that was trying to escape your throat.

another 20 minutes of silence passes. just the soft brushing of the paintbrush against the canvas and the occasional clink of the glass could be heard. he couldn't help but steal a glance at you again but to his surprise, you had your eyes on him as well. upon seeing his gaze shift to your figure, you immediately played it cool pretending you weren't looking but the way the smile threatened to break your facade betrayed you. malleus couldn't help the corner of mouth from twitching.

you did your little inhale again to try to compose yourself but uncharacteristically for him, he found that quite humorous abd had to clear his throat to keep him from letting out a laugh.

now that made you break out a smile and clear your own throat to try and stop yourself from bursting into full blown laughter.

you heard the irritation of the painter in the way he placed his paintbrush down. he stood up and gave you and malleus a sharp look before speaking in a very annoyed voice, “i shall go and have a drink delivered to both highnesses as to aid you both in the supposed strains on your throats.”

he made his way to the door, grumbling to himself about how ‘undignified’ or how ‘not taken seriously’ the situation was.

there was a moment of silence before you and malleus burst into a fit of bubbly laughter. his laughs were in his chest escaping in low vibrations while yours were loud and sharp simply to show how hilarious you found the situation to be. with how glorious both your attires were for the portraits looking like the epitome of royalty, the way you were both giggling like teenagers simply threw all the gloriousness out the window.

you once told your husband that one of your most favorite things about him is his smile and the way it so gently breaks out around you. his booming laughter that follows as you eat dinner at the big, lonely castle that was once the place he walked around alone that now feels more alive after he'd married you. even the most boring events in his life that once he would have been forced to accept in all its blandness would be splashed with the most vibrant colors whenever you were in the picture. his life, his love, his pride and joy—you. now that he's seen colors he never would've imagined to be possible to exist in all its dazzling beauty, he can never go back to the dreary shade of gray that hazed over his life. you were his freedom, and he would be ready fight the world to hear your laughter by his side till death do you part.

© merotwst 2023 · do not copy, translate or reproduce.

[ldrfanatic]

i think your house is haunted

Theodore Nott x Reader "13" Series pt 6

warnings - death, alteration to the original harry potter storyline (slight for now, will become major in the following chapters)

translator series masterlist <previous next chapter>

slytherin boys masterlist works

Theo had no idea why he'd agreed to this. Deep down, he knew that running from his father was an effort in vain. And when he finally found them, Y/n would be killed. He knew. But looking at the beautiful girl across from him, he wasn't sure he cared.

The pair of you had been on the run for a few weeks now. Occasionally, you'd get an owl from one of the Greengrass sisters. They'd been keeping tabs on you and updating you on the flip side of the war. And Theo, too smitten with the light in your eyes that the letter brought, didn't have the heart to tell you how dangerous it was. Soon, you wouldn't be able to send or receive owls from anyone.

One night, as Theo was preparing dinner in the kitchen of your most recent hideout, a black owl came in through the open window and dropped a piece of folded up parchment onto the kitchen table in front of you. He watched as you unfolded the letter and further, as tears gathered in your eyes.

"Dolcezza? What's happened?" He approached you and took the letter from your hands.

My Dearest Friend,

I write to you with a heart heavy with fear, for I know not where you are or how you fare in these dark times. Every moment that passes without word from you is a torment I cannot bear. I know that you are clinging desperately to hope amidst the encroaching shadows that threaten to consume us all.

Theodore Nott is entwined in the sinister tapestry of his father's legacy, a fate he cannot escape. My heart aches for him, for the innocence lost, for the boy he once was now overshadowed by the sins of his bloodline. But my dear friend, I implore you, do not sacrifice yourself for that boy and his doomed fate.

The Death Eaters draw ever closer, their malevolent presence looming like a specter over all we hold dear. I fear for Theo, I fear for you, I fear for us all. I know your heart yearns to protect Theo, to shield him from the cruel hand of fate. But there is nothing more we can do for him now. They will not rest until they have him and your defiance will only lead to tragedy. Do not let your love for him condemn you both.

Please, my dear friend, heed my words. Return to Hogwarts where we can face this darkness together. Leave Theo to his fate, for there is nothing else we can do for him now. I cannot bear to lose you, not now, not ever.

With all my love,

Astoria Greengrass

As he finished looking over the letter, glass shattered in the living room and heavy footsteps were heard.

"They've found us."

Two rather nasty looking men in dark robes came into view. They pointed their wands directly at you and Theo. Immediately, you began to cry. But Theo stood with a ticked jaw and resolve present in his eyes. "Mulciber. Macnair." He walked over to where the half-prepared dinner sat on the counter and took a few french fries into his mouth. "I must say I'm a bit surprised my father didn't come himself."

Mulciber took a step closer to them and and cocked his head at Theo. His wand was inches from your head and Theo's heart dropped. Macnair smiled evily. "Now now Theodore. Be a good boy and come with us. We'll leave the poor girl be."

Theo stared between you and the Death Eaters for a few long seconds. Suddenly, your short sobs turned into irrepressible laughter. Mulciber inched closer to you with a confused look. "Think this is funny you stupid girl?"

Your eyes locked with his and you smirked. "Yes actually. You don't know it yet. You haven't got the pleasure of knowing him the way I do. But when all this is over, he will kill you."

Theo felt pride looming in his chest. A sadistic smile flittered along his lips. "Darling, perhaps now is not the best time for flirting." He watched as you shrugged carelessly. Then, just as Theo taught you, you swung your fist into Mulciber's face and a sickening crunch sounded. Theo pulled his wand from his pocket and fired a quick curse at Macnair who blocked it at the last second.

He felt your small hand grasp his own and pull him into a nearby broom cupboard. As the door shut, darkness enveloped. You only remained in the small space for a few seconds as Theo held you close to his chest and you disapparated from the scene. Once he felt his feet touch the floor, he immediately pulled you into a deep kiss.

Standing there, watching you almost die, Theo finally admitted something to himself that he'd been avoiding. It was time for the pair of you to strike back. It wasn't enough to hide away in the shadows. Something had to be done. Theo was determined not to leave you, ever. But if that was going to be the case, then he had to get rid of the one person threatening you. Nott Sr.

"Y/n?"

"Yeah Theo?"

"I'm done waiting."

You tried to ignore the hustle and bustle of dozens of people crowded around the Weasley Burrow. You also tried to ignore the feeling that you were putting all these people in danger. It was finally time for Bill and Fleur's wedding, and Mrs. Weasley had created the most beautiful set up for the event.

As you stood out looking at the rolling hills, a small throat cleared behind you. When you turned, Hermione was standing there in a red dress, her hair pulled back.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Seeing as she'd started dating Draco Malfoy in fifth year, you supposed Hermione was probably one of the only people who could possibly understand why you were doing the things you were.

"Theo wants to take the fight to his father." It wasn't hard to see that she clearly did not want to talk about the scenery. Hermione had been a friend of yours throughout your years at Hogwarts. When she started dating Draco, you'd grown a little closer, but not much. "That's understandable."

You turned to her finally with a furrowed brow.

"Is it? It seems to me like he's just going to get himself killed."

Hermione shook her head and hugged you close to her. It was nice to know that you had at least one friend on your side through the coming war.

"Theodore may bear the burden of his father's sins, but he is not his father. He loves you deeply, fiercely. And he wants the threat of his father to be gone because he cannot bear the thought of any harm coming to you. He will not rest until you are safe."

As Hermione spoke, you knew she was right. Theo's father was a threat to the both of you.

"What if we can't win?"

"I'm not sure. I wish I could be of comfort. But whether you win or not, at least you'll have fought the battle together." Hermione grew quiet and looked down at her shows. "It's a privilege I wish Draco wouldn't of denied us."

It was your turn to hug Hermione.

"It's alright, Y/n. I know that we'll have another chance. I won't rest until we can live happily, free from Voldemort's influence."

"Neither will I."

The wedding reception was in full swing after a beautiful ceremony. You were dancing with Theodore, who looked rather handsome in his black suit. The dark green button down underneath made his eyes pop just the way you liked. You leaned closer to him and laid your head against his collar bone.

Just as he leaned to whisper something in your ear, a patronus burst through the roof of the tent. All the guests stared on in mortification as the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt filled the room.

"The ministry has fallen. They are coming."

Instant panic flooded the room as wizards and witches began disappearing, some disapparating and others simply fleeing on foot. Seconds later, clouds of black smoke were tumbling about with evil laughter bounding through the air. In the chaos of the crowd, Theo's being slipped away from your own.

"Theo?! THEO!"

You cried out helplessly into the air but the noise level was much to loud. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione disappear with a twist followed by a loud pop. Still, no sign of Theodore.

In a blink, Mulciber appeared in front of you, crooked teeth twisted into his disgusting smile. "Well, well. Funny seeing you here, pretty girl." He fired a curse at you that you narrowly deflected.

He was much older and therefore much more experienced than you. His curses and jinxes quickly grew too much to block and before you knew it, you were backed into a corner. On one side, Mulciber, and on the other, Greyback. You ducked as they each fired the cruciatus curse at you. The two curses met in the middle with a firey red boom.

Just as you made to run, green flashed and Mulciber dropped dead. You looked up at your rescuer to find Theodore stepping over his thick body and drawing his wand on Greyback. Apparently, he hadn't expected Theo to act so ruthlessly. The wolf smoked out within the minute, bursting through the cloth ceiling of the tent, multiple Death Eaters following behind him.

With the chaos finally subsiding, Theo pulled you into his arms.

"Where are you going, Theo?"

You reached out sleepily for your boyfriend who'd slipped out of his place in bed next to you. Mrs. Weasley had been kind enough to let you stay at the Burrow until the two of you figured out your next move. In the past two days, you'd grown quite close to Ginny Weasley, who often kept you company while Theo chattered off with Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Just to the bathroom, cara mia."

The answer was satisfying enough and you rolled over to face the wall.

In the darkness of the room, Theo stumbled. His vision clouded with tears.

When you awoke the next morning to an empty bed, panic filled you. After searching the Burrow for nearly an hour, and still no sign of Theo, you began to fear the worst.

"He's not here, Y/n."

Ginny's voice sounded from behind you. When you turned, the redhead was looking at you oddly. She seemed... sad.

"What?"

She held out a folded piece of parchment towards you. You took the note with shaking fingers, unfolding it to see Theo's familiar handwriting.

Y/n, I want you to know that leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. It tore me apart to walk away, but I had to do. My father has become a problem that I can no longer ignore, and it's a burden that I cannot allow you to bear. You deserve so much more than to be dragged into the mess that is my family. I beg of you, my love, take care of yourself. Surround yourself with people who cherish and protect you. You are a light in my life, and I can't bear the thought of that light dimming because of me. I promise you, I will return. Please believe in me, and please forgive me for leaving you behind. It was the hardest decision I've ever made, but it was the only one I could make.

Until we meet again, know that you are always in my thoughts and in my heart.

With all my love,

Theo

---

4.22.2024

taglist @moonlightreader649 @svt-dk97 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess

[siflshonen]

The Greatest Robot on Earth: Astro Boy and Pluto Part I

So you’ve just watched Pluto on Netflix, but you didn’t know that it is the best Astro Boy fanfiction ever made. Great! Or maybe, hypothetically, you’ve read classic Astro Boy but don’t know about Pluto, or, as it was called for the Viz release, Pluto: UrasawaXTezuka. Well, awesome, because I’m about to give you all the details behind their creators and creation and give you a side-by-side of the classic Astro Boy and this new(ish)-fangled Pluto.

C'mon. Look under the read more line. You know you want to.

If you want to skip to the manga side-by-sides, check out part II and part III. Or, you can read the whole thing in one go on Ao3.

Context and Background

Tezuka, Urasawa, and the Showa Era

So, let me start with the basics: What is Astro Boy? What ain’t Astro Boy?

Tetsuwan Atom, known in the west as Astro Boy, is the most well-known manga created by the “Godfather of Manga/God of Manga” Osamu Tezuka in the 1950s, but it metastasized into multiple anime series, games, merch, spin offs of various types, and that one CGI movie in 2009. The series follows the adventures of robot hero Atom (called Astro in the west) as he fights for the benefit of humans and robots to create a harmonious future for both.

Here’s a timeline of Astro Boy- and Pluto-related events to help you visualize what came out when and why there were multiple runs of the Astro Boy manga. For our purposes, the most important thing to understand is that, even though Astro Boy was a kids’ series, its attitude and themes, as written by Tezuka, reflected the incredible shifts in Japan after World War II and the ever-present shadow of it still left in the minds of its citizens.

But before we get into all that, let’s talk about Osamu Tezuka himself.

Osamu Tezuka's Legacy and His Monster

If you, sweet reader, are a self-appointed weeb and you don’t know the name Osamu Tezuka, I’m personally scandalized. Still, here’s the short version: he was a workaholic mangaka that many hail as the creator of modern shonen manga (historians get heated about when, how, and if Japanese comics made the jump to modern manga, so do your own research, but Astro Boy is definitely the most famous worldwide contender for this title instead of, say, Tezuka’s first work Shin Takarajima/New Treasure Island), and he’s the guy who created the world’s first serialized made-for-TV anime with a sequential plot and sold it as a loss leader to get it on the air.

Arguably, the precedent he set in order to get the anime-ified Astro Boy to screens everywhere is a major reason that the anime industry is so unsustainable, but we’re not here to talk about that.

Tezuka-sensei was a prolific, passionate, and deeply beloved artist from Osaka who tackled damn near every manga genre and arguably created some of them before he died of stomach cancer (and overwork, if we’re being honest here.) I’ve only shown a few of the 400-plus titles he created to give a brief overview of the scope of his work. Since I’m talking to you as a fan, not a historian, I specifically chose titles I own or have read most closely.

Message to Adolf, which was also published as Adolf, is about Nazis. Okay, that’s only part of what it’s about, but we’ll revisit this one in more detail later.

Black Jack is probably Tezuka’s second most famous work, and yeah, it’s broadly categorized as a shonen. It follows the adventures of underground doctor and genius surgeon Kuroo Hazama who dresses like a vampire, acts like a black-hearted and preachy douchebag, and endears himself to everyone who interacts with him.

Dororo is a historical fantasy thriller about a guy regaining parts of his sacrificed-upon-his-birth body by slaying demons and uncovering the mysterious past of his companion, the child thief Dororo.

On the flipside, Princess Knight is a shojo for younger kids about a princess with the heart of a boy and the heart of a girl who uses her two hearts to genderbend as needed to maintain her claim over her kingdom and keep it out of the hands of the wicked.

Meanwhile, Ode to Kirihito is an extremely mature medical fantasy drama that questions when and how a person still maintains their humanity and when they become a beast in their own eyes and the eyes of others. As I’m sure you can tell, such themes exploring what humanity means are almost as common to Tezuka’s works as a medical professional featuring as a main character. He needed to use his degree for something, I suppose.

In fact, the common conflict between Tezuka’s bright, young, optimistic, passionate, independently-minded, and opinionated doctor main characters and the corrupt, constricting, slow-moving, old-fashioned medical institution probably offers the most insight as to why Tezuka chose to pursue manga over medicine. I don’t think this was the only reason, but from reading his manga, I feel founded in asserting that the stifling status quo of established medicine was a contributing factor.

Tezuka never made any bones about putting himself and his feelings directly in his work. He spoke what was on his mind throughout his manga, and his introductions to various Astro Boy stories are no exception. He was also transparent about his struggle to make sure his works maintained popularity even when he resented any changes others suggested he make  in pursuit of this goal. In general, Tezuka-sensei didn’t take kindly to the idea of others influencing the direction of his creative visions basically ever, if the story of the Jungle Emperor: Onward, Leo! anime is any indication. (He’s just like me for real.)

If Tezuka-sensei wanted to write about war, he did. If he wanted to write about rape or trauma or abortion or racism, he did. He jumped on the chance to write about sex ed and, well, several of those other topics in Apollo’s Song.

If that scares you, don’t worry. Most of the time, Astro Boy was usually about the nature of war, human rights, the nature of humanity, and robots. It was also written for grade school kids.

Tezuka’s penchant for frank honesty wasn’t limited to commentary made within his manga, but also about his manga, and his statements on Astro Boy are some of his more standout claims on that front. That he called Atom a “monster” and said he created him “for the exposure and the money” doesn’t paint a flattering picture of his attitude towards his most famous work.

But, in truth, his distaste for compromising the truth of his characters at others’ suggestions probably betrays his real feelings about Atom. As much as he may be Tezuka’s monster, he is also his pure-hearted hero of justice and beloved creation. And, by his own admission, his feelings towards his work during the creation of “The Greatest Robot on Earth”, the Astro Boy story on which Pluto is based, were distinctly positive (even if at one point the background characters remark that Atom is a monster!)

The readership’s opinions on “The Greatest Robot on Earth” were likewise pretty positive. Among those readers was Naoki Urasawa, who credits the story with inspiring his deep love of manga. (His recounting of the impression the story left on him in this interview with Netflix Anime is incredibly sweet.)

Naoki Urasawa and His Monster

Who is Naoki Urasawa, besides the guy who co-wrote and illustrated the 2003 Pluto manga? Well, Urasawa-sensei is my favorite mangaka, so jot that down, and he’s known for his suspense thrillers, layered narratives, melodramatic showstopper moments, and also stories about cute girls doing sports. He is also a musician and guest professor alongside his editor and Pluto co-writer, Takashi Nagasaki.

20th Century Boys, named in part for a T.Rex song, is arguably his most famous work and it is heavy on the 1960s-1970s nostalgia, but in a good way! The inherent optimism, kindness, hope, and passion (and sometimes outright cheese) of every Urasawa character and title never feels insincere. The series is a seinen with the heart and whimsy of a shonen (and personally, I feel like such a description holds true for even Uraswa’s darker works.) 

If you don’t want to read 20th Century Boys or its sequel, 21st Century Boys, you can watch the live-action movie adaptations.

Meanwhile, Monster is my favorite manga and anime. Herr Doktor Tenma (yeah, like Astro Boy’s Tenma), a Japanese brain surgeon practicing in 1980s Germany, saves the life of a little boy only to learn years later that the kid is a mass murderer, his murdering ways continue into his adulthood, and he will likely never be caught. Only Tenma knows the truth, so he embarks on a quest to stop the “monster” he revived. 

I have less familiarity with Yawara! and Happy!, but the first is a sports comedy about a girl struggling to balance an athletic career and a normal life, and the second is a sports drama about a girl pursuing tennis to avoid becoming a prostitute. 

Pineapple Army is about an ex-merc’s adventures working as a self-defense instructor. Urasawa illustrated this one, but did not write it. I suppose I could have included Billy Bat as a representative work instead, but I honestly didn’t want to start unpacking that—though I will say that Billy Bat is probably the closest answer Urasawa has to Tezuka’s Message to Adolf since they both spin around the concept of a rumor or idea causing the world to lose its collective mind.

So what motivated Urasawa to add Pluto to his body of work? Mostly his editor/producer and co-writer, Takashi Nagasaki, probably. Er, that’s not very flattering. Let me try again.

Japanese media loves to emphasize passing its passions and convictions to the new generations (source: have you ever read or watched a mainstream action shonen in your life? If you’ve been paying attention to anything I’ve written about My Hero Academia or read the manga itself, I’m sure you think as much as I do that pointing out such a thing feels like beating a dead horse), and Urasawa’s (and later, the M2 team’s) motivation in creating Pluto is no exception. As Urasawa put it in his Netflix interview, “It’s like we received the baton from Tezuka-sensei, and would pass it on to the new generation."

And Osamu Tezuka-sensei’s son, Macoto Tezka (who probably spells his name that way so people don’t get him mixed up with his dad) let Urasawa and Nagasaki do it so long as they made sure the new retelling was something new, exciting, and unique when compared to the original! And while the pressure to succeed in this endeavor probably damn well near killed Urasawa-sensei, I think Tezka made the right call!

But if the goal was to pass on this Astro Boy story, which was written by a REALLY old dude, beloved by kinda-old dudes to the new generation, and practically unheard-of by today’s anklebiters, what kind of direction was the damn thing meant to take?! And why was the answer “fantasy Gulf War Astro Boy fanfiction”?!

Astro Boy in the Eyes of the New Breed

Astro Boy may be a series meant for younger kids, but it didn’t exist in a vacuum separate from the climate of the world from which it came. Tezuka would probably roll over in his grave if it did. The work, its messages, and its sensibilities were grade-A, postwar Showa stuff—particularly its reflections on pacifism, war, and power. 

Nagasaki’s summation from the postscript of Pluto: UrasawaXTezuka volume 8 sums up Tezuka and his generation’s outlook pretty handily, but I think it’s helpful to show exemplify this outlook and contrast it with the outlook of Nagasaki and Urasawa’s generation through manga!

Please observe this key moral-of-the-story panel from “The Greatest Robot on Earth” published in 1964 alongside this panel from late-1980s Dragonball featuring Muten Roshi stating the core idea of his series. I’ve chosen Dragonball as a point of comparison not just because of its notoriety as a big shonen title created for a similar audience as the original Astro Boy, but because creator Akira Toriyama was born in 1955 and, much like his contemporary Urasawa, who was born in 1960, “The Greatest Robot on Earth” left a deep impression on him. (Despite what the caption implies, the photographed page in this tweet actually features Toriyama’s admiration of Tezuka, though I don’t doubt the article from which it is pulled also includes Tezuka’s feelings about Toriyama. I ran it through Google Translate a few times and then laughed when I realized Toriyama made a self-deprecating joke about his poor reading skills, since he points out that he was in third grade when he read “The Greatest Robot on Earth” in the magazine Second Grader.)

To Astro Boy’s Ochanomizu, strength ain’t all that great, and strength for strength’s sake is foolish and vain. In fact, Professor Ochanomizu, who is the moral compass for most Astro Boy adventures, doesn’t value the pursuit of strength the way modern shonen, and several other characters within his own series, do. Hell, he doesn’t give Uran any superpowers even though Atom, the robot boy with nuclear power fueling his 100,000 horsepower (later 1,000,000 horsepower) and seven special powers is her brother! 

At the time of Ochanomizu’s creation, real-life Japan still freshly remembered World War II and the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki; no the fuck Ochanomizu (and Tezuka, through him) wasn’t about to endorse or create robots that doubled as weapons. That nonsense was for other, “more violent” robot manga, or the slew of other misguided and corrupt roboticists within the Astro Boy canon. Well, except there was that one time Ochanomizu helped create the artificial sun, but he didn’t ever intend for it to become a weapon.

Meanwhile, while Roshi also does not believe in strength for strength’s sake, he absolutely pursues it and encourages his pupils to do the same while fostering their awareness of the hardship, dangers, and fun of their path. Even with his warning, the Dragonball cast’s pursuit of strength is portrayed as alluring despite the double-edge, much like promoting national pride (and power) increases a nation’s convictions in its unity and identity but also draws the negative attention of other, possibly more powerful nations. Andy Yee succinctly frames this still-impending crossroads about how Japan might use its nationalism—its “pursuit of strength” in Dragonball lingo—in his 2013 article “The Twin Faces of Japanese Nationalism”. In it, he quotes this 2012 Project Syndicate article by Joseph S. Nye, Jr. pointing out that nationalism could be a force for positivity if tempered with reform and control, but could also cause the country to start conflict with its neighbors and shit the bed if left to run wild. (The conversation surrounding the topic of Japanese nationalism continues beyond 1980s manga or the 2013 socio-political scene, of course.)

Unlike Atom or Ochanomizu, Dragonball’s Goku finds such attention alluring: his heart’s desire is to fight strong opponents. It is his ikigai (“reason to live”) and at the end of the Cell Games, it becomes his, uh, shinigai (“reason to die”), if you will.

Did I lose you? I just asserted that the messages in these shonen about acquiring strength = messages about acquiring national pride and power. At its best, the Dragonball-esque attitude towards increasing national pride (and combat strength) is empowering, inspirational, and bolsters the good-hearted. At its worst, it could feed into a cycle of toxicity, unproductive self-importance and, ultimately, flat-out Japanese nationalism and war (and at its stupidest, it just becomes Let’s Fighting Love. Protect my balls.) Since classic Dragonball is a gag manga, I doubt Toriyama was ever thinking this hard about the messages of his work in regards to world history, but that’s sort of the point: Toriyama and his generation likely weren’t thinking this hard about it. Dragonball’s authorship lacks the crushing, firsthand memory of the consequences of unbalanced and misused power that the authorship of Astro Boy has.

In other words, Astro Boy’s cast pursued scientific advancement while lamenting the inevitable folly and destruction mankind brought forth with it so that Son Goku could fish naked, kick ass, get his ass kicked, meet god, kick ass, ghost god, ghost his family and friends, come back, kick more ass, repeat this cycle like twice, and get everyone to thank him for it. Dragonball’s more optimistic, power-fantasy-ish outlook broadly categorizes the outlook generation of New Breeds (shinjinrui) born around the 1960s like Toriyama, Urasawa, and Nagasaki before the reality introduced in their emerging adulthood hit them like a fucking truck.

The New Breed generation earned its name because their outlook and values, which were developed during a time of economic plenty and peace, seemed totally divorced from the values of the generations that lived during or immediately after World War II.

“They might as well be a different species,” snarked their elders, probably, though not necessarily out of bland hatred—Yoshiyuki Tomino’s Gundam series portrays his Newtypes, who are meant to be at least somewhat analogous to the real-life shinjinrui, in a generally more sympathetic light and occasionally a positive one (if they aren’t being used by someone else, that is.)

Tomino, who was born in 1941, also worked on Astro Boy at Mushi Pro.

Baggage between generations is not unique to any one country, obviously. But in this case, it seems Urasawa and Nagasaki decided to tap into it and incorporate the core beliefs, hopes, and grief of their generation and those of the generations before them into Pluto. 

Taking this approach was also the perfect excuse for Urasawa to distill everything he knew and loved about Tezuka’s works into one transformative manga. And don’t just trust Tomohiko Murakami on that—trust me as a fan of both Tezuka and Urasawa. It’s very noticeable that Urasawa and Nagasaki pulled from all things Tezuka to create Pluto even as it incorporated new ideas, including criticism of the Gulf War.

…So it’s probably a good thing I took the time to explain all this stuff to you so that you can now start to see it too! You can thank me later. Let’s see how the classic “The Greatest Robot on Earth” compares to Pluto.

[sapphire-writes]

Yay lovely! I was wondering if you think you could write something with Aegon & Helaena where Aegon takes their younger sister!reader (or not a sister if you’re not comfortable with that) as a second wife, but it focuses on Helaena x Reader plzzzz 💞💞💞

The Queens ~ Aegon x fem!Reader x Helaena

warnings: 18+ smut below the cut (fingering, oral fem receiving, cuckholding, teasing, more dominant reader) word count: 2.0k note: okay I kind of made this filthy (reader is a lady in waiting) but I was in the mood for some smut and as a raging bisexual I thoroughly enjoyed writing my first Helaena smut! hope you enjoy 💖

You remembered when you first felt feelings of desire surge through you for the princess. 

You had hurried to Helaena’s chambers that morning, running late from breaking your fast. You were one of her favorite ladies in waiting, though Helaena only told you that as to not hurt the feelings of others. 

“There you are!” Helaena exclaimed, her pretty face breaking into a smile, “I hoped you could assist me, I cannot seem to get the rouge the way I would like.”

You smiled, walking toward her. 

“You spend so much time in the gardens, princess, you already have such a lovely glow,” you tell her, smoothing some hair from her shoulder, and taking the blush from her hand. 

Helaena blushed as you kindly scolded her, bit her lip at the smile that teased on your face as you uncapped the rouge and dipped your fingers into the pot. 

You’re so close you can count the silver lashes that frame her lavender eyes. 

“Here,” you said, leaning close, “perhaps just a bit, on the apples.”

Helaena’s violet eyes remain locked on your focused face as you begin. You spread the rouge onto the apples of her cheeks, smiling as you create a glow to her luminescent skin. 

“Perhaps the lips as well?” you asked, dipping your fingers toward the pout of her mouth. 

“Yes,” she breathed against your fingers, sending warmth pooling into your belly. 

“Let me get closer,” you murmur, scooching towards Helaena, eyes trained on her lips.

You left her chambers that morning with lips reddened by her sweet kisses.

It took little to no effort for Helaena and you to continue your meetings. Aegon was rarely present in the mornings and Helaena always called for you. 

Fear trickled into your relationship with the princess at talk from your father to marry you off to some lord in the Reach. Helaena was distraught at the idea of losing you, remaining sullen and closed off from her mother, other ladies, and the children. 

“You must get up, Hel,” Aegon had prompted, sitting at the edge of his wife’s bed.

Helaena said nothing.

“What would you have me do?” Aegon begged, disturbed at his wife’s state.

“The dragon must have three heads,” Helaena tells him, silently crying.

Aegon frowns at this.

“You would have me wed her?” Aegon asks, “This would not upset you?”

Helaena sat up in bed, clutching his hands in hers. 

“Would you?” Helaena asks, eyes wide and watery, shimmering pools of liquid amethyst. 

Aegon strokes her cheek.

“If it pleases you, of course, I shall,” Aegon tells her. 

So you were wed to Aegon, joining Helaena as one of his wives. Now Aegon had the namesake of the Conqueror and his legacy to match.

Though it was well-known who truly called the shots in your marriage. Helaena clung to you, like the sweet little dove she is, fingers always laced through your own as you paraded through the Red Keep. Aegon and you took longer to warm up to each other, though Helaena was desperate for you both to get along. 

It took some time, but you and Aegon found your rhythm. Where he was authoritative with Helaena, he surrendered himself to you, often enjoying the power you seemed to hold over him. In your chambers he was not the firstborn son of a king, he was simply a man, kneeling and begging for your affections. Which is how he wished to begin the night, tonight.

Aegon knew as soon as he got into a disagreement with Helaena, she would run to you for comfort. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head, see the words ready to spill from her soft lips before she turned to leave. He waited in blissful agony until finally being summoned to your chambers. 

As he enters the chambers he sees you with Helaena, laying on the bed. A disapproving look on your face as you run your hand through her soft silver curls. You click your tongue, eyes aglow with mischief. He’s hard already, straining embarrassingly through his breeches. 

“Take off your clothes,” you tell him.

There is no title attached, neither prince nor husband. Aegon does what he’s told when it comes to you, and he quickly rids himself off his clothes. 

“Sit down,” you tell him as he walks closer to the bed.

Aegon glances at the chair, before sitting down, legs spread, cock standing at attention.

“I like you like that,” you call to Aegon, “far away from her.”

You squeeze Helaena’s breast in your hand for emphasis before kissing the side of her neck. She is on full display for him, seated between your legs leaning against your back as one of your hands trails dangerously lower down the soft skin of her stomach. Brushing lower, past silver curls your fingers spread apart her silky folds, teasing the sensitive hidden pearl.

“You weren’t saying that last night,” Aegon insists, eyes darting between the hand that massages Helaena’s soft breast, and the one that dips into her entrance. 

Helaena releases a breathy moan as you curl a finger inside her walls, just one to keep her placid and wanting. Her lashes are fluttering shut as pleasure washes over her from a subtle crook of your finger.

“You were much more well-behaved then, if I recall,” you tell him, scraping your teeth against Helaena’s neck before kissing the sensitive spot beneath her ear. 

Aegon grins then, enjoying the game already.

“I think you enjoy punishing me,” he murmurs, violet eyes meeting yours.

“And why would that be?” you ask, further teasing him by adding a second finger into Helaena’s greedy cunt. 

Her hips buck against your hand, her head falling against your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” he answers, head tilting to get a better view, “it brings you pleasure.”

“This,” you curl your fingers expertly against Helaena’s spongy walls eliciting an elongated moan, “brings me pleasure.”

Aegon brings his hand to his cock, encouraged by Helaena’s pants.

“Ah ah,” you scold, “you’ll do nothing of the sort.”

Aegon squeezes his cock, releasing some precum that dribbles down his tip, before obeying your command. He can feel his jaw tighten as he watches your fingers quicken, your thumb tap that sensitive little pearl that makes Helaena tremble against you. 

“Oh, oh,” Helaena moans, clenching around your fingers as her release washes over her. 

“That’s it, my sweet girl,” you praise, slowly removing your fingers and peppering kisses anywhere your lips can reach.

Helaena has done nothing wrong, after all, and deserves nothing but affection. She smiles up at you, catching her lower lip between her teeth.

“Let me taste you,” she murmurs, “please, please my love.”

You hum softly, brushing the hair from her face and kissing her.

“Lay down my sweet,” you instruct and Helaena lies on her back.

You climb up her torso, kissing up her stomach and between her breasts, pausing to take her hardened peaks into your mouth, suckling at her nipples and nipping the soft skin of her breasts. As you make your way upwards, you straddle her face, lowering your dripping cunt to her awaiting mouth.

You sigh with satisfaction as Helaena begins to spread your folds with her tongue, dipping into your dripping center. Aegon is beginning to crack now, watching you lose yourself in the pleasure Helaena gives you. 

“Do not touch yourself,” you call to him, as his hand inches closer to his cock.

Aegon whines, thrashing in his seat as you roll your hips against Helaena’s eagerly lapping tongue. You drag your hands up your stomach to cup your breasts, squeezing them as Helaena buries her mouth between her silky folds. Her tongue has weaved its way so perfectly into you, thrusting against your tender walls. 

“You live to torture me,” Aegon says, hungry eyes locked on the nipple your fingers play with.

You smile coyly at him as Helaena’s hands squeeze your bottom before she moans against you. Helaena knows just how to please her lady wife, and knows just where to lip, nip, suckle, and kiss to have her shaking and trembling from pleasure. 

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” you tease, a moan escaping your lips, “fuck Hel just like that.”

Always eager to please, Helaena’s grip on your arsecheeks tightens, small fingers digging painfully into the tender flesh, sure to leave bruises. Her tongue abandons your clenching hole, dragging its way back to your throbbing clit. Helaena never tires of burying her face between your thighs, relishing the sweet sounds that spill from your lips, the sounds only she can truly bring forth. 

She knows what every sweet sound means, like reading music. The notes of your pleasured cries paint the back of her eyelids and she moans, knowing you’re close to your peak. 

“A wicked enchantress you are,” Aegon taunts, for it’s all he can do besides claw the armrests, “What sorcery have you cast on me to make me obey you?”

Your smile grows and you lean back, reaching your arm around and massaging Helaena’s neglected clit. She thrashes beneath you but never lets up her movements with her mouth.

“You enjoy being told what to do,” you tell Aegon, “that’s what makes you such a good boy.”

Aegon whimpers as you close your eyes, pleasure beginning to crest within you.

“Please,” Aegon begs, “please let me, and I’ll be good to you.”

“The reward is greater if you’re a patient, sweet boy,” you purr, “you know this much is true.”

Aegon bites his lip and digs his fingers into the armrest. His cock is hard and angry, the tip weeping precum down the sides of his thick shaft. It twitches in the cool air, desperate for relief. But he knows now if he’s not good, none of that will be awarded to him. His best bet is to wait, and hope desperately you’re in a giving mood. 

Your moans reach a new octave and you shudder around Helaena’s head, mouth falling open in ecstasy. You relish the feeling of your orgasm shuddering through you, sending warmth flooding through your limbs, before easing off of Helaena’s face. You kiss her then, tasting yourself on the slick that covers her mouth and chin, pressing your body against hers. You love how it feels to be on top of her, feel the smooth soft flesh of her breasts pressing against yours. 

You look up from kissing her, meeting Aegon’s eyes. 

“Are you done being cruel?” Aegon asks pouting. 

“You’re pushing your luck with that attitude,” you say, feeling Helaena wrap her arms around you, “We could go several more rounds and just leave you there.”

“All hard and wanting,” Helaena adds, giggling below you, “you’re so mean my love.”

“I suppose it would teach him a lesson,” you tell her, kissing her collarbone, “perhaps he’ll cum after all, we needn’t touch him.”

“I wonder,” Helaena giggles, fingers stroking your sides.

“Please,” Aegon begs, eyes wide, terrified at the thought of being unsatisfied. 

“What do you think Egg?” you tease.

“Please let me be good,” he whimpers, “I promise, I’ll be good to you.”

You hum against Helaena, bodies slick with sweat, moving against each other in a pleasurable rhythm. You moan as Helaena enters you with her fingers, eager to please you once more. 

“Perhaps in a while,” you tell him, a shiver of pleasure rolling through you, “if you stay nice and quiet.” 

Aegon whimpers once more, head hitting the back of his chair, but does not protest as you and Helaena tangle yourselves together once more.

note: I hope you liked it! As always, comments, likes & reblogs always appreciated and I hope you have a great day! 💖

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[whxtedreams]

Chapter 1 - Sunshine

Summary

Past: You run into Raiders while looting nearby houses and meet an unwanted companion.

Present: Tommy and Joel find you in an abandoned church.

CW // mentions of loss, violence, threats of sexual assault (hinted), blood

Word count: 8,071

Before

Autumn 2019

The first time you killed someone, you hadn't waited around to watch them die. You had sunk your knife into his chest and fled quickly, unable to bear the thought of watching the life slip from their eyes. You heard their screams as they choked on their own blood, but you hadn't seen the light fade from their eyes. It was a memory you tried not to think too much about, and you were grateful that you hadn't witnessed their inevitable death.

It’s been six years and twenty-eight bodies later – a number that didn't seem real – and you had watched each one of them take their last breath. 

Six long years since your brother passed, six years filled with grief, and more than a half a decade spent on the run in order to protect his legacy and the innocent life he had created. You had thought you had lost it all, your only family, your only guide, but your niece kept you going. As you ran across the country, trying everything in your power to protect her, you couldn't help but wish that your brother could have been there beside you, watching out for the both of you as he had always done. Even if he was an asshole.

He had been the one to shoulder all of the violent realities of this world so that you could live a life untouched by the stain of blood. But he had made a mistake, and that mistake had cost him his life, leaving that burden for you to carry in his stead. With a heavy heart, you had taken it and done what you had to do to protect your niece, to keep her safe and her own hands clean of murder. 

He had trained you both to kill the infected, preparing you with the knowledge and skills you would need to survive. But he had also made it clear that he was the one who would handle the humans you encountered, making sure that the two of you wouldn't have to deal with that particular danger by yourselves.

It wasn't until you were in your early twenties that he began to teach you the basics of how to kill people quickly and quietly. He made you promise that you would never use those skills unless they were absolutely necessary, and you agreed. You had no desire to hurt people, and you hoped you would never need to break your promise to your brother, but you were prepared to do so if it meant keeping your niece safe.

"I don't care how angry someone makes you," he states flatly as he wipes the blood off his knife with a cloth, looking over at you. "You don't kill 'em. You only kill ‘em when they’re gonna kill you." His tone carries a warning as he speaks to you. "What do you do when someone makes you angry?" He looks over at you from the opposite side of the rusted dining table in the abandoned house where you decided to make camp for the night. 

You roll your eyes and glance down at Annabel, who's passed out in the corner of the room, her mouth hanging open and soft snores escaping her lips. Her peaceful slumber, despite the fact that you'd been engaged in a highly dangerous and potentially deadly situation no more than an hour ago, is a bit comical to you, and you let out a soft laugh as you turn back to face Dean.

“Tell me.” He demands as he moves to clean his next knife. 

“I walk away.” 

He looks up from his knife and nods. “Keep going.” 

You sigh and cross your arms as you lean back in your chair, and you repeat his teachings to him. "Then I grab a weapon and beat the shit out of something. Not someone, and never with my hands," you say clearly. He nods at you again, seemingly satisfied with your answer, as he continues to clean his knife and sheath it away. 

“Good. And what do you do when you feel nothing?” He asks after a moment. 

“I get the fuck away from everyone, listen to music.”

He nods. 

You shake your head in disbelief and consider your options as you spin the knife in your hand, standing in front of yet another empty cupboard. You've gone down two streets already, checking each house for any possible source of sustenance, and yet it seems like every cupboard, fridge, and dresser in the houses you've looted has already been ransacked.

You left your niece, Annabel behind at a house a few streets away while you took the burden of looting the small town you found yourselves in. She had wanted to come of course, but you wanted her safe behind locked doors while you searched for supplies.

It hadn't been easy to leave her behind, but it was the right thing to do. But the moment you were away from her side, you couldn't stop thinking about her safety. What if someone were to break in while she was alone? What if they discovered that she had been left behind there? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a door creaking open, followed by a whispered curse as someone else enters the house. You still for a moment, listening for any further sound as you contemplate your next move. It's likely that another survivor had broken in and was searching for supplies, and you weren't sure how they'd react to finding you here.

"I thought I told you to be fucking quiet." A man hisses in a hushed tone, his voice full of annoyance and anger.

"Not my fault the door creaked," Another voice whispers back defensively. "The bitch probably knows we're here now, anyway," he adds, and you hear them both move further into the home.

You quickly duck behind the island in the kitchen, hiding from the two men who'd just entered the house. There’s a room between you and the invaders, the dining room, and in the silence of the house every noise can and will be heard. You try to slow your breathing, hoping that both of them will go left into the loungeroom first instead of right into the connecting dining room. The footsteps of the men echo in your ears, one set lighter and quicker than the other. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest, and your eyes stay wide, your attention focused on every single noise the men make.

Your heart plummets at the realisation that one set of footsteps has entered the dining room while the other has entered the living room. Okay, one on one then. You could take one out before the other realised what was happening. You hold your breath, listening for any sign of the approaching footsteps getting any closer to your position as you take your knife from your belt. Maybe, just maybe, you could take one of them out before they knew what hit them.

The man who entered the dining room slowly enters the kitchen and rounds the island with his back to you as he inspects the walk-in pantry to your right. Perfect. You quietly leap from your crouched position, wrapping your free hand around his mouth to muffle the yell that escapes his lips as you kick the back of his knee and send him to the ground. The force of your arm has done its job, muffling the sound of his surprised yelp as you quickly stab the side of his throat and twist before pulling it out. His blood spurts out from the wound, and you close your eyes and wince as it hits your face. You let go of him, and his hand flies to his wound as he wheezes. In his final attempt, he fires the gun in his hand aimlessly to alert the other man. 

Shit.

“Josh!” The other man yells from across the house, and his boots move quickly towards the kitchen.

Fuck.

The man - Josh - drops to the floor, his blood pooling out from his wound and covering the ground below him. His partner enters the room with his gun raised as he sees the bloody scene in front of him, his expression quickly shifting from one of annoyance to shock and anger.

You stand above Josh's body, his blood dripping from both your face and your knife, as the other man finally looks you in the eyes and raises his gun to you. You hold your breath as your attention is placed entirely on his intentions, and your mind races to come up with a plan to avoid getting shot.

You freeze, staring at the man in front of you. Your mind races as you try to calculate your next move in the split second you have before he pulls the trigger. Your thoughts are quickly interrupted by the sound of the trigger being pulled back. Your eyes widen as you dive back behind the counter, the bullet grazing the side of your arm, making you drop your knife in the process. 

You fall to the ground behind the counter and scramble into a crouched position, grunting at the pain in your arm as you push yourself back up. You quickly assess your arm, noticing that the bullet had only nicked you and that the blood was only steadily oozing out of the small gash. It didn't appear to be anything too serious, but any amount of blood loss is dangerous in this world.

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

“Who are you?” You demand, hoping they weren’t tracking you and just unfortunate to cross you. 

“Think you know already bitch.” He snaps back. 

Raiders. Fucking Raiders . 

Two weeks, you’d been running from a group of raiders. Two long weeks. You were ambushed by the group while you’d been on the train tracks with Annabel. You had managed to shoot one of them before you bolted with Annabel’s hand in yours. Luckily, they wanted you both alive otherwise, you would have been shot as you ran. Or unlucky if you think about it. 

Pretty women were hard to come by these days, they had said. 

The man, clearly impatient, rounds the counter just as his friend did. Instead of attacking him, you move around the kitchen island to keep the counters between you. When reaching the next corner of the island, you find the path clear to the dining room. With a deep breath, you bolt from your hiding spot and run hunched over into the dining room. Shots are fired as you run and your hands cover the back of your head instinctively as you move to your next cover.

The man swears as his bullets miss you. As you run from the dining room and into the entryway, you notice the men have blocked the front door with a table. Sure, you could easily move it but the boots slamming into the wood panelling underneath him, you know you don’t have the time. 

At your short stutter in movement, another bullet is shot and you duck. The bullet hits the table and you scramble into the living room, thankful he’s a shit shot. 

Quick thinking has you lifting your baseball bat from the strap on your bag as you run past the stairs leading upstairs and into a connecting room. You slam the door shut as the man shoves against it with his shoulder as you force it closed with all your body weight. You’re thankful – yet again – the door has a lock and as the door is shoved again, you lock it. 

Knowing a simple lock will not be enough to keep him out, You turn around and examine the room for anything to block the door with. Realising you have stumbled into an old nursery, you groan and shake your head.

Your brain going into overdrive, you decide to give up on blocking the door and stride over to the window. With a few tugs, you swear as you realise it’s locked. Looking around the room frantically for something to throw through the glass. But it’s a nursery, everything in here is soft and harmless. 

Your head snaps to the door as he slams into it again, the sound of wood breaking. Time is ticking. You look down at the baseball bat in your hand and sigh, wishing you hadn’t dropped your knife. Knowing you have to fight him instead of fleeing, you pick up the heaviest toy scattered on the floor. You find a decent sized wooden toy truck and toss it a few times in your hand and shrug at the weight. Not perfect, but it’ll do. 

You move towards the edge of the room besides the door. You wait with your bat in one hand and the toy raised in the other as the door creaks and groans. One last shove and the door breaks off its hinges and falls to the ground, leaving a cloud of dust in the air.   

The man stumbles through into the room, shocked and unprepared at the sudden break of the door. While his brain catches up to the new environment, you locate the gun in his hand and throw the wooden toy at his hands as he raises the gun. With a shocked grunt, the man drops the gun and you re-grip the bat with both hands as you land a hit at the back of his head. He stumbles forward and you kick the gun across the room as he falls onto the crib in the middle of the room.

The wooden crib breaks under his weight and you step over broken wood before stopping beside him. You raise your bat and land another strong hit to the back of his head. The man screams in agony as he slumps into the pile of wood. You let out a puff of air before you lift the bat over your head and swing again, and he stills on the floor. The bat cracks as you hit his skull again and you swear as the wood breaks in two. 

“Fuck,” You swear under your breath as you toss your favourite bat across the room in anger.

You nudge the man beneath you with your foot. He groans and you sigh. In this moment, you feel nothing. Your wound is there, the pain slowly creeping back into your body, but you don’t feel it. You aren’t afraid of death. You don't feel as protective towards Annabel as you should be. You are numb. Emotionless and void of feeling as you stare down at the man in front of you. His breaths come in short, panicked gasps. There is nothing you feel except the emptiness in your heart, your thoughts cold and indifferent to everything.

You are past the point of anger. You slip into nothing. 

 “And what do you do when you feel nothing?” 

“I get the fuck away from everyone, listen to music.”

You attempt to wipe the blood off your face from the man you stabbed but end up smearing it across your face. “Stay here.” You sigh emotionlessly as you turn and leave the room.         

Walking back into the kitchen, you step over the man you stabbed, picking up your knife. You kneel beside him, looting his body for anything useful. Your efforts are only rewarded with his gun and ammo. 

Upon reentering the nursery, you find the man in the same spot. Blood is splattered around him from the blunt trauma to his head and you shake your head as you step towards him, his blood tainting what is supposed to be an innocent room. 

Your expression is cold and determined as you stare down at him as he groans in pain. You lean down and grab onto his jacket as you turn him over onto his back. The wood cracks beneath him and moor blood seeps out from his head wound, staining what used to be a baby's crib. 

You take a deep breath as you move to straddle him. He squirms under you and cries, his hands covering his bloody and puffy face. You take your knife in both hands and lunge it into his chest. His hands claw at your arms as he screams again. You pull your knife from his chest before using all your strength to piece his chest again. And again. And again. 

His screams stop somewhere between the sixth and seventh time.  

You blink as you stab him again, blood all over your hands as they shake on the handle of your knife as it lodges into his chest again.

You pull your knife from his lifeless body and stand up on shaky legs. You look down at your body, the front of your clothes soaked in crimson blood, and are struck by the intensity of your actions. You put your knife back into its sheath on your belt before you can do any more damage, taking in the sight all around you.

Turning back to the man you mutilated only moments ago, you sigh as you pick up his handgun from where you kicked it. You look down at the body in front of you; his body a testament to the brutality you'd just perpetrated. The blood-covered floor was a grim reminder of the violence that had just taken place.

You shrug your backpack from your shoulders and onto a changing table across the room. You take your gun from your holster and reload it with a new magazine. You bag their two guns and put your own back in its thigh holster. 

Six years and thirty bodies now. Dean would be both proud and pissed.

After moving the table from the front door, you ran between houses and hopped fences to track back to Annabel as fast as you could, leaving bloody footprints as you went. The pain in your wounded arm is starting to become more noticeable as the adrenaline rush fades, reality sinking in, and you are beginning to wonder if you had done the right thing. But as you race back to Annabel, your mind is fixed on her well-being before anything else. You need to ensure that she is safe and unharmed, that no one has discovered her and is still alive. The thought of losing her terrifies you.

So when you open the front door of the house you were staying in and heard a man's voice, your anger rose again.

Closing the door behind you, you unholster your gun and quietly step down the hall towards the archway that leads into the lounge room. You take it slow, one step at a time, hoping the floorboards won't creak and give away your position. As you get closer and closer, the sound of laughter grows clearer and clearer in your ears. It's her. It's Annabel. And she's laughing? Just hearing her laugh lifts your heart and makes your chest clench as you step to the side of the archway.  

You slowly step into the archway, your gun drawn and ready to fire any potential threat that crosses your path. You spot your niece sitting cross-legged on the couch first and then notice the dark curls of a man sitting opposite her, facing away from you as he laughs at something she said. You feel your heart race, your mind running on pure animalistic instincts as you try to identify this man sitting so casually, laughing with Annabel as she tosses her rubber ball in the air.

Your eyes narrow at the sight of him, and your trigger finger tightens ever so slightly. You would have shot him right then and there, but she’s laughing .

Annabel's eyes widen as they fall upon you in the archway, the gun in your hand a clear warning for her not to say anything. She lets the ball drop to the ground, and it rolls across the floor to the man. 

“Get up, slowly." You bark the words at the unidentified man, your voice low and lacking any emotion. Your eyes are still fixed on him as you slowly enter the room, your gun still trained on him. 

He sighs and slowly stands from the chair when you order him to, his back to you as he raises his arms. "You must be the aunt," he says in a calm tone, not showing any signs of the fear you'd expect. You can hear the slight note of recognition in his voice, and a chill goes down your spine as you hear him speak. You still don't take your eyes off his back, waiting for him to turn to face you.

"Turn around," you say in a cold, firm tone.

"Is that your blood?" Annabel's voice cracks as she takes in your bloody appearance, and her eyes widen as she stares at you in horror and fear.

He turns slowly with his arms still raised, and once again, you study him carefully as he faces you. Now that he faces you, you can see the black eye forming on his face, and your shoulders relax slightly. At least Annabel didn't let him in willingly. He has dark, curly, shoulder-length hair and a moustache but is otherwise cleanly shaven. He wears a dark blue button-up, his toned arms visible through the fabric.

"That’s a lot of blood," the man mutters under his breath as he takes in your appearance. You can see his eyes study your blood-stained body, travelling down and back again as they stop at the gash on your arm. His eyes on you make you feel sick. "You're hurt, I can-" 

"Don't move." Your words stop him in his tracks, and it's evident from your tone that you won't tolerate him disregarding your instructions. “I’m fine.” You snap at the man and focus your gun on his head. 

"You're bleeding, pal. You look like hell," the man says, his voice showing genuine concern. "Here, let me see your arm-" he adds, moving his hand to gesture in the direction of his bag across the room beside Annabel.

“I said don’t MOVE .” You shout, and his arm freezes in response to your shouted command. Your words echo through the living room, and for a moment, you and the man just stare at each other. Your emotions are mixed, between the pain and shock from your own injuries and the strange mix of guilt and suspicion you have towards this man who seems to be genuinely trying to help you. Your gun is still raised, your finger still on the trigger, and you still haven’t decided if you can trust him. You’ve killed two men today, you can easily make that number three.

A soft hand touches your arm, and you flinch in response, caught off guard by the sudden change in your surroundings. You hadn't noticed that your niece had moved, and she whispers into your ear. "He's not a raider, and he’s not him. " Your muscles tense even more as you glare at the man before you, ready to kill him at the first sign of betrayal. But the words of Annabel leave you in a state of disbelief. How does she know he's not a raider? But the conviction in her tone gives you pause.  

You take your eyes off the man in front of you and look down at your niece beside you. Her eyes are soft and pleading with you, appealing to your sense of reason. You suck in a breath and close your eyes. You're tired, you're hurt, and you don't know what to think. But somehow, her words manage to penetrate the fog surrounding your thoughts, and for a moment, you entertain the possibility that she's right. You close your eyes and try to fight back the flashbacks of him. 

“He won’t hurt us.”

“Annabel” You sigh. “You don’t know that. I didn’t think he would hurt me either.” You open your eyes and focus back on the man in front of you. 

“He says he can help us. He’s heading to a town. A good town. Good people.” She rambles, trying to get her words out before you stop her again. 

You scoff, shaking your head. “Are you fucking stupid?”

She laughs softly beside you, and the sound sends a chill down your spine. Her laughter is dark and void of humour, and her voice seems colder than you've ever heard it before. "Maybe I am," she says quietly, as if speaking to herself. "But I'm sick of running." The change in her attitude and tone worries you, but you're too exhausted to say anything about it.

You frown at your niece's confession and grip the gun in your hands. "Fuck," you mutter as you lower the gun. The man lowers his arms, but your eyes are fixed on him as you glare at him. "You make one dodgy move, and I will put a bullet between your eyes." You snarl at him, the tension in your voice making your intentions crystal clear. "Am I clear?" You wait for his reply, your eyes never leaving him. You don't trust him yet, but you're willing to hear him out.

The man nods. “The name’s Tommy.” He smiles, and you roll your eyes. “Just – just let me take a look at your arm. Or are you just gonna bleed to death?”

“Fuck you.” You snap, taking a step forward and wincing as you move your arm. “Fine.”

Tommy guides you over to the chair he'd previously occupied and has you sit down after taking your bag from you and placing it beside the couch. Your eyes never leave him as he moves, although Annabel's presence brings you a slight sense of comfort.

Tommy drags his bag over to the couch and sits down next to you; his legs stretched out in front of him as he places the bag between his legs."How's the pain?" he asks, studying your injury as his eyes go wide at the sight of your bloodied arm. A few drops of blood trail down from your arm and pool on the chair beneath you. As he speaks, you look over at his black eye and notice a few light bruises around his cheek and neck. Annabel had definitely gotten a few good hits in.

"Don't feel anything." You mutter a short and somewhat snippy response as he lifts your arm for a better look. He seems to ignore your attitude and simply focuses on assessing the severity of your injuries. "How's the eye?" You smirk at him, and his expression changes to one of amusement as he shakes his head, the black eye on his face clearly still bothering him. You can't help but feel a small sense of pride at seeing his injury. 

The tension in the room is starting to shift, your mistrust for Tommy slowly turning to more mutual respect. Your niece had warned you that this man might not have been a raider and that he wasn't hostile. Now you're starting to believe her. He still hasn't given you enough reason to trust him fully, but your suspicions are slowly being tempered by curiosity.

"What happened out there?" Annabel asks as she rises from her chair and rounds the back of the couch to your bag, rummaging through it and pulling out your walkman and headphones. She tosses the headphones in your direction, and your tension eases ever so slightly as you catch the gesture from your niece. She knows your music calms you, a reminder of the safety and comfort you had back in your old home before everything fell apart. 

Tommy digs through his own bag, taking out a water bottle and a small med-pack and placing it on the couch beside him. You appreciate the gesture and keep a watchful eye on the pack and any movements Tommy makes as you place one of your headphones over your ear while the one closest to Tommy sits behind your ear to hear him still. You turn on your walkman, the calming sound of music filling your ears and sending a surge of relief through you. Your heart begins to beat slowly and evenly as your muscles relax and your tension subsides. 

"Ran into some raiders still tracking us," you say as you settle back onto the couch with your headphones still playing your music. Tommy takes the water bottle and pours it over your wounded arm to wash away some of the blood, and you can't help but sigh with relief as the water touches your skin. The music and the sensation of the water on your arm are enough to make you feel more at ease, and your eyes droop slightly with a sudden sense of relaxation.

"Must have been a lot of raiders, from the amount of blood on you," Tommy says while gesturing to your bloodied clothes. He tightens the lid back on the bottled water before placing it back on the ground and reaching for the med pack. You can't help but notice the needle and thread along with the bottle of alcohol rub, and your tension and suspicion heighten once again. Why does he need the needle and thread? Is he going to sew up your wound? The thought of him poking a needle into your injured arm makes your skin crawl.

"Just the two..." You start to say, but your words are cut short as your frown deepens at the sight of the needle. The man sighs in response to the expression on your face, and you wonder for a moment if he can read your thoughts. You consider objecting or fighting back, but with the pain beginning to creep into your arm and your emotions slowly coming back due to the music in your ears, you decide against it.

"Yes, I've done this before, and yes, this will hurt," the man answers your silent questions. His words are paired with an apologetic smile, which does nothing to ease the tension of the situation. 

Tommy opens the bottle of alcohol rub and pours it onto a clean cloth from the med pack, using it to wipe your wound clean gently. You bite your lip and look away from him, still refusing to look at him directly.

Once satisfied, he places the bottle back in the pack and picks up the needle and thread from his lap. He holds the needle and thread in his hands, and your body tenses up even more when he moves towards your injured arm. "You need stitches," he adds. You know he's right, but the thought of the needle touching your wound and poking through your flesh makes your stomach churn, your heart pound and your breathing quicken. Your eyes remain glued to him, your body tensing in anticipation. 

"Fine," you grit out through clenched teeth, turning away from Tommy as you refuse to watch him pierce your skin with the needle. 

The music in your ear still plays at full volume, still sending waves of comfort into your mind and body. But your grip on the gun in your hand stays tight, your entire body on edge and tense. Your other arm remains held firmly in place by Tommy’s hand as the needle and thread pieces through your skin as he begins to patch you up, preventing you from making any sudden movements. 

You focus on the music in your ears as Tommy stitches your wound, and Annabel watches from the armchair opposite you. Once he's finished stitching your wound, Tommy lightly taps your arm. You look over at him with confusion until he tilts his head down towards your arm, and you follow his gaze. Slowly and carefully, you lift your arm and inspect his work. To your surprise, Tommy has done a decent job; the stitches are small and even. You consider thanking him for sewing up your wound, but you find yourself unable to muster the words of appreciation.

"How many times have you been stitched up? You barely flinched," Tommy's voice breaks your thoughts as he finishes up and discards the remaining thread, closing up his med pack. 

You remain silent for a moment, processing his question as you look at your new scar and wondering if you should answer it. You consider explaining that the music in your ears helped keep you calm or that your pride and desire not to seem weak kept you from making a fuss, but you decide against it. Instead, you simply shrug in response to his question, leaving him to draw his own conclusions.  

"She has a weird tolerance to pain," Annabel suddenly interjects into the conversation, and both you and Tommy's heads snap towards her in surprise."I remember once when we were kids, she fell down a concrete path on a hill, and she pretty much tore all the skin from her leg," Annabel continues, and both you and Tommy share a look as you recall the memory. "There was so much blood, and she just got up and didn't care. I think I cried enough for her," Annabel adds lightly.    

Tommy watches you, his face neutral but his eyes betraying a small flash of surprise at the revelation about your high pain tolerance. 

You want to say something, anything, to deny Annabel's words, but you can't find the words to say. Instead, you simply smile slightly and shrug.

"Well then," Tommy nods in response to Annabel as he stands up from the chair. "I passed a river about an hour's walk back. How about we get you cleaned up, and then I can bandage that arm?" His smile warms his expression, and he extends a hand towards you. 

Your response is immediate and harsh, swatting his hand away and glaring at him. "I can stand by myself," you growl out, and your tone and body language make your irritation clear. You're not ready to trust him yet, and he knows it. Even so, he continues to smile and keeps his tone light.

"Alright, little miss sunshine," Tommy teases in response to your glare, and you can't help but roll your eyes in annoyance.

You remove the headphones and turn off your walkman, stowing them away in your bag before standing to face him. You reluctantly holster your gun and cross your arms, glaring in his direction.

“If you try anything-” 

"You'll shoot me, I get it, Sunshine," he responds with a smirk, unbothered by your harsh tone. He adjusts his bag on his back and begins to walk out of the room. His body language is relaxed despite the tension in the air. He doesn't seem to take any offence to your words or demeanour.  

"I like him," Annabel grins as she picks up her own bag and begins to follow him. "He doesn't put up with your bullshit," she remarks as she passes you, picking up her ball on the way out, and you grimace slightly at her words, annoyed by her attempt at humour.

It took you two weeks before you stopped keeping a hand on your holstered gun around Tommy. 

Now

Spring 2024 

You continue tossing the rubber ball against the wall, your mind fixated on the object in your hands. Your mind wanders to the lifeless bodies that litter the room, the souls you took in cold blood. The room is cold to the touch and feels devoid of life. You look around at the corpses surrounding you and feel nothing. They deserved this. Deserved worse than this.

The soft groans from the last remaining man fill the room, where he sits tied to the chair in the middle of the room. He is barely alive after what you did to him, and you left him to suffer instead of a quick death.

You have never been one to believe in religion, but as you sit in the church basement, you feel uneasy about committing acts of murder on a once sacred ground. 

You keep tossing the ball, watching it bounce off the rotting walls and floor, listening to the sound of it splashing in the blood that covers the floor. You try to focus on the ball and ignore the gruesome scene around you. But the more you try to block out the images, the clearer they become in the candle-lit room. 

Your mind is a mess of conflicting emotions as you keep tossing the ball, flashbacks of your niece fill your thoughts—her laughter, her smile and then her blood as it soaks your clothes as you hold her for the final time. You throw the ball against the wall with even more force as you try to block out the thoughts of Annabel. The blood splatters over you from the splash from the ball, covering you in more cold blood. You sink to the floor, overwhelmed by regret and guilt.

You sit on the floor, surrounded by a sea of blood, numb to everything around you. Tears should've been streaming down your face, but no tears came. The tears never came, just numbness. You feel numb to the world, like a soulless creature who has lost their humanity. You are frozen in place, unable to move or see anything beyond the red blur in front of you.

You would kill for your old walkman. To have music again. 

You listen to the footsteps and voices as they echo throughout the church, but you don't care who they belong to. You close your eyes, letting out a long, deep sigh, as you rest your head against the wall. You couldn't bring yourself to care or lift a finger to defend yourself.

You open your eyes and look up, finding Tommy staring at you, shock and relief on his face. He’s holding his rifle in his hands, and his eyes widen as he takes in the scene in front of him, at the mutilated man in the chair whose soft wheezes begin to rise at the sight of Tommy. Good , he is still alive and suffering.   

Another man steps into the doorway behind him, but you don't care or pay attention to them, your mind still in a fog. You just stare back at Tommy with blank, empty eyes, not saying a word.

Tommy nods and steps over a body that blocks the doorway, followed by the man behind him.  

“You were meant to wait for me.” Tommy avoids your eyes, his voice firm and authoritative as he stalks over to the tortured man. 

“You were busy.” You mutter, mostly to yourself. 

Tommy lifts the man's head by his hair and examines the torture and blood-stained scene you had caused. He nods in approval, a small smirk forming on both your faces as he lets the man's head drop back to his chest.

The man lets out a groan, but you feel no pity or sympathy for him. You feel a surge of satisfaction at the sound of the man's pain, a sense of justice being served for what he had done to your niece. He deserves to suffer for his crimes. 

"They could have killed you, Sunshine," Tommy's southern accent drew out his words as you shook your head at his nickname for you. The nickname felt like a stab to the heart, a reminder of who you had been before your niece's death. 

Maybe he still believes in you, even after everything you have done. Maybe there was still some good left in you, some shred of humanity. But you weren't so sure anymore. You enjoyed killing them, after all.

“I think we both know they didn’t stand a chance.” You huff out a dry laugh, frowning as your stomach begins to hurt from the movement.

Tommy shakes his head as he bends down to collect your knife and gun on the floor you had dropped after you had killed everyone. 

You had become a deadly pair, hunting down and killing those responsible for your niece's death. Maybe you had lost yourself along the way to the neverending anger, but Tommy still believed in you and still saw the good in you even though you couldn't. 

"Your luck will run out one day," the other man's voice startles you, sounding low and gruff. You look up from Tommy and turn your eyes towards the man behind him, who is holding a shotgun. You narrow your eyes, trying to remember who he is. You haven’t seen him around Jackson before. But even if he lived there the whole time, you were never good with faces. Who is he ? You remain wary and on edge, not sure who to trust except for Tommy.

Tommy seems to sense your distrust, and he turns back to the man behind him, his hand outstretched. “This is Joel. Remember?” 

Joel? There was no way this was Joel, his brother, right? 

“My brother.” He continues, and you tilt your head in a nod. “He was in Jackson for a night a while back... You remember that, right?”

You stare at Joel, studying his appearance and comparing it to Tommy's. He certainly looks like him, but he is definitely older. He has the same dark hair as Tommy but scattered with a few grey hairs. You aren’t sure whether that is from the stress of the apocalypse or his age.

Your brow furrows, and you shake your head, your memory of him lost. "I was beginning to worry that your first impression of me would be one of a blood-soaked killer." You grin through drowsily-lidded eyes as the exhaustion from the bloodshed begins to weigh heavily on you.

Joel keeps darting his eyes between you and the carnage around him. You can see him taking in the scene you had created, his face showing a mix of shock and curiosity. 

“You don’ need to worry about what I think of ya, darl’” Joel mutters, his eyes not meeting yours as he nudges a corpse on the ground with his foot.

"Nice to know what you'll look like in a few years, though, old man," You chuckle with a lighthearted tone. But as you finish the sentence, you feel a pain in your stomach and begin to wince and cough. The air is tight in your lungs, and you can barely catch your breath. The adrenaline from the fight is slowly wearing off, making you more aware of your injuries. Your hand shoots to your stomach as you clutch it, trying to steady your breath through the new pain.

Shit . The anger and numbness is starting to slip, and you begin to feel your body once more. “Tommy,” You gasp as pain and panic soar through you. 

Tommy shoves his gun into Joel's chest and strides the short distance to you. He kneels before you and assesses you for any of your injuries. His voice is stern as he questions, "How much of this blood is your own?" Although his voice is unwavering, you can see the fear in his eyes as he looks down at you.

You look down at yourself and see how much blood you are covered in. It is hard to tell what is yours or your victims' blood. You try to recall the fight, but everything is a blurry mess inside your head from your mind being clouded with anger. You feel sick, the pain creeping through your body. You aren’t used to physical pain; you don’t know how to deal with the unwanted feeling. 

"I don't know," You reply. "I think most of it belongs to them..." You gesture towards the lifeless bodies that surround you.

Tommy nods and lifts up your shirt, and you let out a grunt of pain as the shirt is stuck to your skin from the blood. You wince at the sight, following his gaze to the large slash covering your stomach. Confusion washes over you, not understanding how you could have missed an injury like that. Reality begins to sink in at the state of your injury, and you feel terrified. A feeling you aren’t used to.  

You let out another pained grunt as his hand reaches out to touch the wound, instincts taking over and making you grab his wrist defensively.

"Don't," You gasp, too weak to hold it together anymore. “It hurts Tommy. Why does it hurt?” The pain begins to rise along with the nausea. Your stomach churns, and your grip on Tommy tightens as you lean over to the side and dry reach. Tommy grabs your hair and holds it back with his free hand as you finally spill your stomach’s contents on the floor beside you. Your head throbs, the overwhelming dizziness clouding your head.

“You’re okay, Sunshine. You’re going to be okay.” Tommy whispers, letting go of your hair and wiping the vomit from your mouth.   

“She good?” Joel questions from across the room. 

Tommy slowly nods. “It’s not deep, but if she’s feeling the pain, it's fucking bad.” He grimaces at the sight of your stomach. 

Tommy reaches his hand out to Joel and asks for the bandages in his brother's backpack. Joel shifts his backpack off his back and kneels on the blood-stained floor as he digs through his bag to find the supplies. 

You wheeze, the pain of vomiting with your wound overbearing.  

Tommy catches the bandages as Joel tosses them to him. He unravels the bandages and sighs an apology before applying pressure to your wound. You grit your teeth, suppressing a groan at the pain. 

Joel moves over to the man you had left alive and studies his injuries. “She really do all this by herself?” 

Tommy holds back a laugh as he tries to slow your bleeding. “What can I say? She learnt from the best.” He teases.

After managing to slow the bleeding, he begins to wrap your stomach in bandages, taking care to apply the bandage tightly. Tommy takes his time with careful hands to make sure it is done correctly and protects you from further damage. The entire process is done with care and concern, your well-being being the most important thing to him at the moment. 

You roll your head to the side and search for the rubber ball, spotting it in a pool of blood. You go to reach for it, but Tommy leans over and picks it up, shaking the blood from it and pockets it. 

Tommy swears as you cry out in pain as he slips a hand under your outstretched legs and behind your back. He grunts as he lifts you up into his arms, and you grip his jacket tightly. You press your head into his chest, trying to distract yourself from the pain that is starting to creep through your veins. The adrenaline that surges through your body in the heat of the fight begins to wane, and the full impact of the pain starts to set in. You try to remain calm and still, your breaths shallowing as you wait for the pain to pass.

Tommy turns and walks past Joel, pausing in the doorway as his brother speaks up. "We're not killing him?" Joel questions, his tone sceptical as he gestures to the man tied to the chair with his gun. He looks back at us, where you remain nestled in Tommy's arms. 

“Was gonna let him suffer,” you explain between breaths, and Tommy’s hands hold you tighter at your words. “But you can do whatever you want to him.” You mumble as you lean into Tommy’s embrace, the blood loss making you exhausted. 

Joel nods and points his shotgun at the tied man. 

You feel the warmth of Tommy's body and his heart beating against your cheek, giving you a sense of comfort. You raise your head to look at him as his voice shouts over his shoulder as he leaves the room to ascend the stairs from the basement, "And do it quick! We gotta get her back to the clinic."

Joel's voice drifts through the walls, uttering a few muffled words. But before you can decipher what he said, a gunshot stops the other man's pleas, and the walls around you shake. Time seems to stand still as you realise what has just happened. The man was dead, and that gunshot had meant one thing - Joel had done the deed. Finishing what you started. 

Chapter 2

Notes

Hey guys!! I've been writing and posting small concepts of this story and decided to start writing a more detailed story.

Thank you for all the love so far! This is my first longer fic that I've actually stuck with and I'm really glad you are all enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it!

Divider by the beautiful saradika

Also a layout of the house mentioned in the first part!

[jenniferstit]

pac: pick an earth angel

disclaimer: as far as i know, there is no definitive way to know who is/was an earth angel. these are people that i believe embody earth angel energy and whose life journeys echo major key lessons that earth angels are called to master in their respective lifetimes.

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first, a word on earth angels / channeled message:

earth angels are rare, yes, but the world is filled with them. in the same way that there are people born in this world who will never awaken in this lifetime… “soulless” entities that serve specifically to keep the matrix intact, there are also people who are born already awakened… these are earth angels. more often than not, earth angels are born into environments that are extremely tough. most people would break down under such circumstances but earth angels somehow still find a way to thrive, seemingly effortlessly. divinity is in their veins… not even the most challenging of environments can break them. some earth angels actually thrive in chaos, they embody the light that they seek to find in this world. they inspire others with minimal effort, often unaware of how impactful their mere existence can truly be. with that said, bright lights cast dark shadows. earth angels can be amongst some of the most unprotected souls in the 3D, bc the 3D matrix is not designed to support such divinity. Hollywood for example, is not an environment in which benevolent energies thrive; its true nature is exploitative. to be an earth angel who amasses large success in the entertainment industry is to be in an incredibly vulnerable & precarious position. not every earth angel is meant to be in the spotlight, and earth angels are also NOT perfect beings. let the life journeys of these earth angels chosen in this pac inspire you, but also teach you lessons about how to protect yourself from dark entities bc they do not just exist in Hollywood, they are everywhere! question everyone.

a friend of my father recently passed away and her own husband refused to be there when they pulled the plug. he did not visit her once while she was in a medical coma for a week. 2 weeks after her passing, he is now parading his new girlfriends… plural. this man that she laid down with every night was secretly harboring negativity towards her. i ask you to imagine how spiritually devastating it was for her to exchange energy with this man every single night, believing that he loved her. i don’t mean to scare anyone with this message. i only mean to warn people to take spiritual protection more seriously… be aware of the energies around you at all times. re-evaluate these energies consistently. make it a habit to purge energies and cut cords with people you encounter along your journey. people change, as you also change… remember that.

one

i’m seeing the energy of someone who is trying to create a lasting legacy but is constantly running into obstacles. you could struggle with depression or another mental disorder… i’m seeing a bit of a rougher past or pain from the past that still bothers you. the blockages you face have kept you stuck & indecisive. your problem is your mentality. there is a call for you to completely change your perspective, and to stop operating from a place of lack. i see someone who is waiting for happiness, but let me tell you, happiness starts from within. it’s the mindset that first allows you to prepare for happiness and abundance, and instead of waiting for life to change, you can change it right now in this present moment with your mental outlook. i’m hearing the word reinvention, and i encourage you to think about marilyn monroe. marilyn was born norma jeane mortenson… norma jeane was subject to many horrors & tramas. norma didn’t get to dream, she didn’t get to experience abundance… she acted from a place of survival. so what did norma do? she created marilyn monroe. by embracing a persona, norma was able to take control of her situation and change her mentality. she reinvented herself and thus reinvented her life. this message is urging you to do the same, but instead of focusing on the outer, prioritize the inner… reinvent yourself from the inside out. because no matter how much you change the outside, the inside will always catch up with you, as it did with marilyn. but you are not marilyn, you are YOU, and there is a version of you available that is making all the right choices. because what i see in the cards is someone who is destined to succeed, so if you knew success was guaranteed, what would you be doing right now? how would you act? how would you feel about yourself? i think you intuitively know exactly what you would be doing. this is the call for you to start prioritizing the things you love. the heart & solar plexus chakras are being highlighted as things you need to work on. your heart and self worth will heal as you do this, but you have to start somewhere.

two

you are an exceptionally powerful, independent spirit with an abundantly divine feminine energy. because of that, you attract a lot of suitors. these suitors come in fast and want to move very quickly with you. they all talk a big game but at the end of the day, they don’t have the substance. they are posers, acting as if they are on your level but secretly jealous of your energy. their admiration for you quickly turns into avarice. these people don’t know the definition of reciprocity, all they know how to do is take & withhold. they may withhold finances or communication, always leaving you to bear the entire weight of the relationship. this may apply to platonic situations as well. these unions are never successful. others may watch these failed situations with dismay but they don’t know the truth… you don’t go looking for these people, they come to you. people may see you as a bleeding heart, someone who is way too emotionally available. what these people don’t know is that you are extremely intuitive… there was a part of you that always knew these relationships weren’t going to be successful. you were just wanting to experience the thrill of experiencing another human being, going with the flow and seeing what happened. is that wrong? well, no. but there is an important lesson here about trusting your gut when it comes to people. if you know someone isn’t for you, why take the risk? not to sound too preachy but it’s all fun and games until it isn’t. your energy is WAY to precious to share with just anyone. you’re built different, so you have to move different. sadly, you may not get to experience life the same way others do, but this is a GOOD thing. you are simply on a different timeline than others around you… your destiny may be bigger than most. think about that every time you let someone into your life: “is this person helping or hindering my destiny?” again, not to sound too preachy but universe can only protect you so many times… eventually you will have to learn the lesson and sometimes that can be very traumatic. despite this, i see you eventually entering a beautiful relationship after a period of heartbreak. this relationship will be highly desirable & enviable to those around you so be careful, you might want to keep this more private. i’m getting a flash of aaliyah & dame dash… someone close to you may not want this relationship for you. i would strongly advise the members of this group to increase their spiritual protection & possibly do a cord-cutting, especially if you know there is an entity around you who does not want you to succeed.

three

i’m seeing someone who has just recently and/or is very soon about to experience a major victory in finances/career. if this is you, please take this as conformation that this is your pile, i’m picking up that this group will know this message is for them. you are entering a new cycle of abundance… point-blank, period. it’s 100% coming, if it hasn’t already, so make time to celebrate yourself bc you’ve totally earned this. with this new successful cycle, however, there will be a new obstacle to overcome… this is the price of ascension. every time we level up, there is some negative force around us that we must watch out for, you can’t take the good without the bad. i’m seeing some sort of negative influence around you that is draining you or is looking to drain you of your energy… a very powerful energy vampire. this vampire could be a person, a situation, or even an addiction, but this is something you NEED to watch out for. if this is a person, they are definitely jealous of you & your success. warning: something will happen that will expose this person & it will be devastating, but this is happening for a reason. universe really wants you to be alone at this time. spend some time in solitude, continue to level up in private, and be very cautious of the energies around you from this moment forward. in order to really experience this new cycle in full, this thing from your past HAS to be let go, universe is very serious about this. this reading is probably the most vague of the three, but i feel it’s because this group will be the smallest and, once again, they will know this message is for them. right now universe is giving you the opportunity to limit the collateral damage by cutting this influence from your life with your own hand. if you do not do it, universe will intervene & the experience may be more painful. you are being given a choice. tbh this feels like a test, a test of your resolve and self-love. i don’t think there’s really a right or wrong answer, but with the recent eclipses and jupiter now being in taurus, i’m not surprised by this energy. there are a lot of shifts happening… and there is an entire group of souls whose destinies are being activated right now. don’t block your own blessings.

☆ more readings on tiktok ★

[organizationhimself]

just kinda having some thinky thoughts about how dark road totally rewired eraqus's character and what a phenomenal job they did.

like here's your problem you have. you need to take this cloistered old man who raised his students in the jedi way, somehow put up with Old Man Villainy being That Way presumably on the regular, lost every last iota of his shit and turned on the Apocalypse Child he adopted as well as his surrogate son who was infested with The Evil (which the series has long established as not necessarily being good or bad without context) to say nothing of the headtrip he gave his direct heir, and you need to reduce him to a version of himself as a child that is. like. fun. someone who has a genuine friendship with xehanort and is regarded by xehanort as someone who is a "sly fox," i.e. not the sort of buffoon who tests for mastery of the keyblade by child-proofing some orbs of light.

where do you even begin?

YOU TRAUMATIZE THE UNGODLY HELL OUT OF HI--okay i'm getting ahead of myself, let's start with principles.

because eraqus is principled. he believes really firmly in the light in a way that's nearly sora-adjacent in its intensity, but the thing is that sora has this flexibility that eraqus was simply not raised to appreciate. yes, nomura, we understand you like the bright sunshine one and the wry brooding one, you did it with sora and riku, god knows what you did to axel's spine to fit him into the sunshine kid's mold next to isa as brooding anti-crybaby, and now we're doing the same thing to eraqus. ok. i love it when you're optimistic, let's do it.

so first we need confidence. easy; he's a smug little rich kid. worked for riku didn't it? (source: kh1 manga, and the fact that you cannot convince me anyone can maintain a kid with that build on a budget) but we also need to see how dark road changed him as a person. let's contrast his uptight stick-up-his-ass future with a present day class clown who doesn't take things seriously; a headstrong fighter who jokes that he'll just run away. and hey speaking of emotional damage, let's start easing into the inevitable terrible, horrific, unspeakable traumas we're going to visit on this defenseless creature with a little one as a treat:

HIT HIM RIGHT IN THE GRANDPA.

and there you go! we now have a source for eraqus's rejection of the darkness that is not simply a function of his career as a jedi keyblade master, but has an actual personal experience he can point back to in order to say "hey, darkness is the pits!! here is why." it sets the stage early for him to be already butting heads with xehanort, who takes a much more flexible look at the worlds and the way they work and is more willing to view things from the perspective that he is not an authority on the moral peculiarities of whatever world he is currently inhabiting.

xehanort is also a child of destiny [citation needed]. an isolated visitant who was born for finer things but never slept a day in his life without waking up with sand in his mouth until he reached out and took his fate in his bare hands and let it drag him all the way to scala.

where he met the blueblooded child of a keybearing legacy thousands of years in the making, just like his.

and suddenly what you have are unwitting equals. we're ready to set them both up at the chess board; eraqus's legacy is plain, he moves first and he makes no apologies for it because it's his birthright. but xehanort's half of the board is still buried in shadow, implied but never stated, never surrendered to eraqus's probing questions or revealed by his moves, but already aimed at a clash with destiny, fated, inevitable.

shall we say, already written.

and this is brilliant!! now we have a source for our "sly fox," a reason for xehanort to be extremely familiar with the way eraqus thinks (and not to star wars on main but the obi-wan kenobi series did something really similar to this narratively by using anakin and obi-wan's familiarity with each others' fighting styles to predict the actions they would take in a situation, and i will actually never be over it in my life, absolutely stealing it for a xehaqus fic sometime, just shamelessly mugging ewan mcgregor in the street for that solid gold good shit). not only that, but we also have an explanation for xehanort's motivations as described by kh3. he is not looking at the fight from the perspective of one of the pawns; he is looking at the fight as a player, deciding which pawn gets taken. selecting which rook to sacrifice in exchange for the queen.

and eraqus is opposite him, doing the exact same thing (sort of, kh3 was a little cerebral with that), but there's an important difference here that we'll come back to later on.

so, okay. we have a vague outline in the shape of a sunshine kid now. he has confidence tied to his role in society, his legacy gives him perspective, his trauma ensures that he will one day calcify against the darkness with such emphasis that he will unwittingly pad the therapy bills of an entire generation. so far so good.

but uh, yeah, his kids? he fights them? like okay, axel has his differences with his kids too but he's not trying to kill them (mostly). eraqus really definitely for real is, and ven is defenseless. so that'ssss...hard to square with the sunshine kid we're building, nomura, how do we explain that? we really can't handwave it as amnesia this time, we're not working with ansem the wise here.

(BALDR. BALDR IS HOW--

ok but wait wait wait, before we even get to baldr, there's something we can do:

make eraqus impulsive.

and i mean impulsive. make eraqus spoil for a fight with so much unmitigated howler monkey energy that he will fight his friends just to vent. (this isn't even a unique thing, riku and xion and even sora do it all the time, and we're not here to talk about ven's crimes against miners but it's clear that violence is a spoken language in kh.) eraqus is fluent, so we're making it so that all of eraqus's intensity and passion can be focused on a single point if xehanort pushes exactly the right switches in his head.

and then, y'know, yeah. make baldr slaughter all of his classmates, several of them right in front of him, because of unchecked darkness and baldr's own inability to see past his own grief and resentment for long enough to understand that all he's really doing is inflicting his own suffering on other people in a murderstorm of nihilism and bitterness. unrelenting trauma conga line, check.

and now we have almost all the elements. eraqus's principles can't allow him to accept darkness, both because his grandfather was lost to it and because it left him (by all accounts a bourgeois slacker at the bottom of his class, someone vidar doesn't even consider as a candidate for one of the lights despite what baldr has to say about eraqus as a light source) one of the only survivors of an event that completely resculpted his life and community. time to pack him off to the jedi temple land of departure to be least okayest teacher of the year, right?

well...no. we need eraqus to wait.

because he doesn't take on students. and doesn't, and doesn't, for decades. first he fights xehanort, and as we have established he is spoiling for that fight (white moves first!). and then when xehanort finally visits him to drop off that half-dead kid he found (ven was like that already shhh), he's kind of like politely like "oh, you have apprentices. they seem...bright," like he's congratulating eraqus on finally reaching a life stage that eraqus should have hit approximately 50 years ago, and eraqus is like "yeah yeah whatever shut up anyway YOU'VE got one too now right." (yen sid talks about the role of "seeker" like it's a different thing from "keyblade master" so that's where i'm extrapolating this distinction from, but regardless i don't think anyone ever seriously expected xehanort to take on students.)

my point here is that eraqus waited until the last possible opportunity to take on students. to carry on the legacy that was so important to him as a child, and to re-experience the closest thing to the camaraderie he had as a keybearer-in-training that he could ever have back. that is how impactful baldr's actions were for eraqus.

i'm veering completely into speculation now but i think eraqus was terrified. how could he not be? his class wasn't even taking the mark of mastery and still got decimated by it. how could he risk going through that again, but from odin's perspective this time? what guarantee would he ever have to avoid the same tragedy his master had failed to prevent?

so, NOW we know why eraqus's mark of mastery was a handful of light pinatas and a duel. (i like to think xehanort felt a certain level of professional embarrassment for him and wanted to make it just a little more like a real challenge.)

(this is a sidebar and i'm going to talk about my other blorbo for a second but terra has a beautiful dream of being a sly manipulator. that's why he doesn't worry about investing himself in villain schemes, because he assumes he'll see the snare coming before he gets his head caught in it, but it's never coming from directly in front of him like he expects. so this is a dream that will never come true, but he has it, and i think given what we knew about eraqus as early as blank points, its only possible source is a master who was strict and exacting, but--very occasionally--also a sly fox who secretly delighted in his students' nascent abilities to surprise and outwit him.)

back to the trauma, we also have, obviously, the explanation for eraqus's attitude towards terra, and later ven. terra is a tragedy in slow motion that eraqus has seen happen before. baldr was unable to control his darkness; it overwhelmed him, and eraqus does not have the context that xehanort does, that baldr was in some ways a product of his own darkness-shunning society. even if eraqus does have that context, i can't really see him agreeing with it--and even if he at one point agreed with it, he would have gotten that context from the same guy who last showed up at his house talking about kicking off the apocalypse for the vine.

so like. eraqus has never seen any damn thing in his whole life that doesn't confirm his bias against the darkness. does that make him innocent of parenting Incorrectly? no, he is a Bad Dad. does it explain his hopelessly unsuccessful parenting strategies? yes, it does.

what it reinforces is also that eraqus didn't want to have to fight terra and ven. the original bbs is honestly not very good about establishing this: he cries one Sad Tear. yawn. still child abuse, asshole! the stakes in bbs are also not very well established, because there's approximately six people in it and some of them are just the same guy over again, so we don't really have a sense that terra being taken over by the darkness is like...gonna mean something to eraqus that is sincerely worth the personal cost of killing him. since we're clearly no longer worried about ven, there aren't other students to protect (besides aqua, but she's a really hard sell on the "needs to be protected from terra with so much urgency he must not live another moment" front). there is no immediacy to ven's status as Apocalypse Child; if anything vanitas seems like the obviously more important threat, and maybe eraqus should be less concerned about weeding out students and more focused on vetting friends like Old Man So Clearly The Villain My Guy. bbs eraqus is just genuinely hard to like as a character.

but now we have dark road context.

and white moves first.

eraqus is not seeing terra or ven in that moment, he's seeing baldr. he's seeing the summoning of kingdom hearts that almost was, and he is gripped by meticulously prearranged, bone-deep, irrational, traumatized, unbridled impulse. the emotion must vent. the thing he was powerless to stop has returned to haunt him and he must resist it. he knows what will happen if terra strikes him down here and heads back out into the worlds in search of other hearts, other lights. he knows.

but terra resists, using the full spectrum of his strength without remorse, and it is only when eraqus's keyblade is ready to fall from his hand that he realizes the truth:

My own heart is darkness.

and when this happened in the original birth by sleep all i could think was yeah star wars dad!! nailed it your heart IS darkness you fuckin dillweed, about time!! what took you so long!!

but after dark road, this context is completely changed. eraqus is not just realizing that he fucked up.

he is realizing that he fucked up the exact same way baldr fucked up.

that he let his own grief and suffering cloud his judgment and guide his blade to strike out at his loved ones. that instead of finding a way to live with what's already happened to ven, what was long ago fated for terra, he turned his resentment outward and gave that darkness leave to consume them both whole.

but unlike baldr, eraqus regrets it.

it is that moment that xehanort cuts him down anyway, not because eraqus can't be saved the way baldr couldn't but because xehanort is cleaving away the last of his own attachments to the world so he can follow through with the rest of his plans, and i am SO NORMAL ABOUT THI

but okay anyway. eraqus has exactly one move left.

he can't see the board. unlike xehanort, he has no extra pieces of himself he can just bandy about; the warriors of light must assemble without any of his direct input, chasing the echoes of eraqus's students and pushing and pulling in reaction to xehanort's steady advance through the center. he has only one chance. he can't afford to waste it.

the kings are meeting in the middle of the board. the stalemate will come any moment, when they're both out of moves and out of time, leaving the fate of the worlds undecided.

and it is at this moment that eraqus pulls the same penultimate move that xehanort himself used on baldr, confronting him with the first victim his darkness ever struck down. eraqus almost doesn't have to say anything, at all, because xehanort has to know what it means. has to know what it says.

xehanort resists. the world is too far gone. too many horrible things can happen in it; it must be reset. not purged and filled with darkness, like baldr wanted, but returned to a state that can never mutate into the conditions that made baldr exist in the first place. that doomed all their classmates to die. it's too late.

For us, perhaps...but not for them.

and now we go back to the distinction.

the thing that makes xehanort's chess game different from eraqus's is that, for xehanort, it's only chess. the pieces he's moving have ceased to exist in his mind as individuals. they are pawns on a line of white and black squares, and they may weave away from his will here or there but they cannot be swayed from their march.

eraqus never forgets.

and it's actually eraqus's capacity for forgiveness that i haven't even touched on yet. this isn't a word i ever expected to associate with him, but eraqus spends dark road forgiving. five minutes after any altercation he's already forgotten about it. name-calling. arguments. rejection. opposition. full-on fighting.

murders.

when xehanort kills baldr, eraqus is still calling out for him to stop. when xehanort later strikes out at him with darkness (the thing eraqus is scared of the most!!), permanently disfiguring him, eraqus has already forgiven him before seeing him the next time in person.

he does not forget that baldr is a person in spite of his darkness, and eraqus doesn't want him to be killed for it. that terra is a person in spite of his darkness, and eraqus doesn't want to see it consume him. that ven is a person in spite of the darkness that was cleaved from him, and eraqus doesn't want to see it return.

(if you think about it the real tragedy is that we were robbed of him looking aqua in the eye and telling her that she isn't tainted forever, that it did not take her, and even if it had, that will always, always matter less than her finding her way back. i refuse to believe terra was not already made aware of these facts.)

but he also does not forget that xehanort is not a faceless player in the skies, impossible to convince of the significance of a pawn; he remembers that xehanort, too, is still a person.

this point is important because eraqus's last move is not a checkmate (I KNOW HE SAYS CHECKMATE but it is not checkmate), but it is calculated to produce something else: a concession. he doesn't need the board to support his win or xehanort's loss; he needs the player on the other side to put down the pieces and follow his beacon out of the dark.

and that is how nomura shows us our sunshine kid at last, fully formed, as he takes xehanort's burdens from him and spirits them both well beyond the reach of the board.

anyway yeah microwaving him in my brain along with axel (and also roxas and terra because if i don't collect all my blorbos AND their hot mess dads i'll never fill out my pokedex).

[o-hora-o]

hello your art is amazing !! i wondered, do you have hcs / doodles / thoughts about the aftermath of the 1955 disaster ? be it eins and tesla's reaction, how they had to support each others to rise again, how eins had to survive joyce's loss etc... also i'm curious because we always talk about einjoyce in 55 naturally, but the game showed us she still thinks of him even in 2018, it's been so long.... after all the welt joyce is the whole pillar emblem and creation of anti-entropy, it must be hard to be one of the founder of a worldwide organization based on your old lover's legacy otl

Thank you very much!!! Both for the compliment and the question. I often think about 55's aftermath, of course. And these thoughts torment me most of the time so that I draw sketches and make hcs about the alternative outcome. Sometimes I do want to draw more arts about canonical events, and I probably will but it's just...hard.  

Now further goes my headcanonical 1955 disaster aftermath and einjoyce fan ramble and I’m sorry in advance if this is not what you expected to hear from me: 

In the novel, Ada mentioned that after waking up, Ein and Tesla accepted everything that had happened very calmly. But I imagine Ada wasn't present there when they woke up, she spent all her time with Joachim and took care of him. And maybe at some point, the boy got so attached to her that that’s why he eventually decided to run away with her for 20 years, away from the problems and legacy of the late hero (And then hi3 mentions Ada only...what, once?) I imagine that Ada was really the only one who could look after Joachim because Planck spent most of her time in the hospital. 

So, now let’s talk about Planck. I love Emma, she might have quirks but she’s very dear to me. She played the mother figure whose presence could bring the sense of peace, comfort and safety. Emma was “everything is going to be alright” person with a strong yet soft spirit, she was someone Lieserl aspired to be. But oh, how lonely she’d been...throughout all her life. I think Carl was the only one who understood her like no one else. Then she lost him and was on the verge of losing her dear girls. Not to mention she had already lost Edison and Schrodinger. She had to take Edison's place and single-handedly create an entire organization out of the ashes, and Schrodinger...Planck did not live to see the day when it turned out that Erwin was alive. So yeah, Emma was a lonely woman with no one by her side but the unthinkable unbearable burden, she was the first one who had to carry the weight of the World on her shoulders. All in all, back in 1955-56 Plank was either in the hospital or busy trying to find a new base. Oh, yes, most likely she had to organize funerals which Ein and Tesla, obviously, missed. 

Ein and Tesla...as I’ve already said once, not seeing waking-up-from-coma scene in the novel was the greatest loss but the greatest blessing at the same time. I think it was the hardest and most horrific moment in their lives. And I also like to imagine around then they got drunk together for the first time. 

To be honest, I admire Tesla's copium and how she's doing...mostly alright these days. Especially regarding her unfortunate life. But damn how easily 1955 can trigger her. I think she's been holding a very deep personal grudge against Welt all these years. She almost never mentions him or speaks his name out load and, in general, she never speaks of those years either, unlike Ein. If Ein and Joachim are stuck mentally in the past, Tesla seems to exist only within "today". It's only when Joachim tries to sacrifice himself over and over again all the accumulated resentment and despair wakes up in her. Because Welt's sacrifice did all this to Joachim and Welt's legacy is louder than Tesla's cry to stop playing a lonely hero. I think Tesla is a definition of "I told you so" in this story. She was the one who foresaw Welt's death. She was the one who wanted to share her "know there's nothing worth remembering in our lives so there's no need to dwell on the past" ideology to help him let go of the guilt and start appreciating his life. I think she cared about him no less then Ein because I see Tesla and Welt as a younger brother/older sister duo, they always bicker, tease but care for each other nonetheless. So of course when she woke up, she was lost, angry, hysterical and hurt. I think she deserves no less than Joachim or Ein the opportunity to meet Welt again and to talk everything she’s been holding inside all these years out. But apparently this was too boring for the writers, and they just decided to erase Welt’s soul for forever and took away from AE the opportunity to try locating his soul in the core and bring him back when they’re not busy preventing the end of the world every day. But instead, we got Joffrey (I have nothing against the boy but this whole clone thing just feels so.... utterly wrong, help). And I find it ironic that the one who unwillingly made Tesla’s life a mess is, kinda, became her son whom she’s been taking care of and who will be by her side from now on. 

And Lieserl...you know, I’ve never been a fan of romantic stories but somehow einjoyce got a chokehold on me and my heart, for me they’re the true manifestation of soulmates and match-made-in-heaven thing. I already had a little brainrot post about her living after 1955 but yes, you are right, she still thinks of him even in 2018 and I still can’t wrap my mind around it. That and the fact she’d been analysing him for 3 years before she took him in to the 42 lab. For 3 years, without seeing him in person (and she even tried to practice talking less “nonsense” so she would look mysterious and idk attractive to him? But totally failed on the very first day spent together with him). And then, in the course of one, ONE, month Welt became someone who could not only understand Ein’s quirks, chaotic thoughts but also enjoy her personality and communicate with her in pure silence. He was the last one she talked to so freely and who actually listened to her. And Lieserl being ready to rather die than let Erwin hurt Welt is a whole “hear me out” conversation on its own. So yes, I believe a part of her died that day with Welt and the other - later on with the death of her "ultimate navigator" Planck (I still think about how she shortly mentioned that that period was a nightmare for the organization). Now she's just Doctor Einstein and even though she acts as her younger self from time to time she still feels like an... empty cold vessel with an escapistic fixation on work, books and games. And if she has no Tesla to tease, no work to do, no book to read and no game to play, she escapes into nostalgic thoughts. Does she really care about the future of the world and humanity? Because I think she can't care less about 99% people around her. She and Joachim are just driven by symbolic and twisted sense of Welt's legacy who thought his death would be insignificant and then it turned their lives upside down and inside out. Does she even care about Joachim or just sees him as a part of Welt’s legacy? 

But back to the 1956. 

Would it be too sadistic to imagine she had a long dream in which no one died whilst she was in coma? I remember I had an old headcanon similar to this one but it's about present days where 14th Herrscher puts everyone to sleep with an ideal dream. And it back loops to the moment when Ein wakes up in sweat early in the morning in the villa of Southend-on-Sea.  

But anyway. The moment when she woke up from coma...I’m no writer but let’s say her consciousness awakened before her sensations. She couldn't understand where she was or who she was. She didn't remember what happened. And this void of perception caused both calmness and unease for her, everything around felt like through fathomless water. It was hard for her to open eyes and concentrate because she was met by blinding light and dizziness instead. Her hands were shaking, and her body was shivering when she tried to get up. As she called for Welt and Tesla her lips felt numb and every word seemed to scratch her throat, taking away all her energy so that she was ready to fall asleep again. And let’s say Tesla woke up sooner than Ein so that Nicola and Emma were both in anticipation and fear of the moment when she would wake up only to split her life into “before” and “after” with mere three words. She would be in denial and panic would slowly rise up her throat. As the realisation set in, she would slowly suffocate on the verge of tears. Because all of it was so unfair, she entrusted her little World’s fate to the world, and it took him away. She failed to protect him, and the guilt slowly consumed her from the inside day after day, year after year. And to give her an eternal life with an option of ending it by her will is... sigh. I hope she and Tesla at least got sedative pills while in hospital. 

So that’s when Tesla and Ein formed a strong bond. But their problem is that they are constantly keeping all their opinions, feelings and thoughts to themselves (yes, even Tesla) and most likely it resulted in various quarrels and then Emma helped them realise that from now on they only have each other and the life will go on but in the end... they will be the only one left.  

Sometimes I forget that not long after all of this hospital chaos they took part in numerous interviews with Joachim who had to shapeshift into Welt's appearance, and he had to do that for years. That's almost as dreadful as getting eternal lives.  

As you can see, I can endlessly talk about them and all the known scenes they took part in after 1955. I honestly tried to write my thoughts as short as possible, and I hope you don’t regret opening this door into abyss of my endless thoughts with your question. 

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2024: #32

32. THE NETHERLANDS Joost Klein - "Europapa" 26th place (Disqualified)

Decade ranking: 120/153 [Above Ochman, below Andrew Lambrou]

Yeah, #NotForMe. Don't like the blue chicken, don't like the awful murine clickbait faces, don't like how he tried appropriating Käärijä's legacy for his own benefit. In fact, there's a lot I don't like about Joost Klein. Get used to it. Feelings are mixed but they are trending towards the NEGATIVE.

The face of a man I want to trap inside a garbage truck.

What is funny to me though, is that I certainly could have liked "Europapa" if the Dutch hadn't made certain decisions. I have to remain honest. My ranking, my rules, my lack of taste. It didn't work for me.

The song's not without merit though. It's a fun eurodance number at a glance. "Europapa" works best when you hear it live after a few drinks and blurt along with its lyrics. It's an EXCELLENT concert and streaming entry, whipping up a good time out of thin air with few pretences.

As a Eurovision entry though... eh. It tried to be a lot of other things: A tribute to his dead parents, an introspective unspooling of his mental health, a spoof, a meme, a middle finger to society, like all at once? It has that Subwoolfer-like quality of straight men in a mancave brainstorming on how what a Eurovision entry looks like: stupid nonsense. How does that work? The answer to that is "barely", and only if you take it at face value.

The song is not really about Joost dead's father and his world view. That ... I think... is deliberate false advertisement. It's not untrue, but presenting it as the sole truth is a deception. If you delve into the song, you'll find that it's a little bit more complex (and less wholesome) than that.

Verse 1 is about desperately running away from your problems (Joost naming all of the destinations, clawing at people for money, having lost everything but time) and verse 2 tackles validation, desperately craving it and yet not feeling sated. "Europapa" is a coping mechanism first and a song second. It's a deep dive into Joost's inner workings and his soul, but one that exposes him as insecure and vulnerable and putting up a front of irreverence as a mask to the outer world. As per the second verse:

"I'm running from myself, I'm crying out for help - I even give people loads of money and there's nobody who gives me aid [...] turn the radio on, I hear Stromae's "Papaoutai" I won't stop [feel satisfied] until they say "yeah, he [Joost] is doing well, eh?"

Now, this is actually... not a bad thing. It proves that "Europapa" is authentic and has surprising complexity and layers. That's what distinguishes it positively from Finland, which is hollow and cringe.

The problem with the emotions is that they clash with the rest of the song?

Fewer sentiments kill the party mood quite AS hard as one of "Are you feeling alright? 😨 Is everything OKAY?😨 should I call a therapist?" 😨". For me it defo kills the vibe. I don't want to END a fun party song with concern for the singer's wellbeing. The fact that Joost is cishet and therefore incapable of talking about his feelings and yet PUT THESE VERBALIZED EMOTIONS IN PLAIN VIEW IN HIS EUROVISION SONG is enough to set the alarm bells ringing.

Of course it could have worked if the live got it right, but um lol. Let's be honest here: The live was BAD. It was INTENDED to be So-Bad-It's-Good, sure, because that's the only way cishets know to do camp. I don't mind a spoof of a 2008 joke act. It just was... performed and staged so poorly it became the thing it intended to parody.

You sir, are NOT Käärijä.

The best parts of the entry (the emotional complexity and the hak break) are completely washed away by a combination of the awful clickbaity faces, TERRIBLE vocals (the post-chorus "EUROs" in literal Cookie Monster Voice are amongst the ugliest sounds anyone created for Eurovision), nightmare fuel visuals and that ghastly, ghastly outro.

Actually, about that outro. That is what made me turn against Joost. It's the WORST section of ANY song this year. It's the combination of whiplashing from extreme rapture into literal mourning at the drop of a pin (which is kind of... really icky human behaviour when you think about it) with pushing it down our throats by including it in the recap. Make The Guillible Cry With Cheap Emotional Manip, it's not a tool exclusive to Israelis.

And you CAN actually blame this intrusive display of emotional expoitation squarely on Joost because he's a known perfectionist and therefore must have planned the execution of the outro the moment he and his cronies decided to include it in the song.

It did tie the ending together alright. But because it wasn't a showing of personal growth, or strength or accomplishment, which it could have been, it did not align with the rest of the song. Instead it underlined that Joost hasn't moved on and is hopelessly stuck in the past, desperate for validation.

Instead of underlining the cheerful, fun aspect of Europapa it instead brought my attention the dark, emotionally disturbing bits as the last thought, and that ultimately is what killed it for me. The song is a cry for help, which is nothing to be cheerful about.

Aaaaand that's the opinion on the song and the live performance. But we're not done yet because I must address what came after that. 🙄

So, let's tackle the press conference first. Zero complaints about that. I was annoyed with Joost before due to how desperately he tried to push himself as "Käärijä's" successor and fabricated his own PR campaign on TikTok (DIE TikTok), but his behaviour at the PC made me do a complete 180 on him. Him shooting pure unfiltered truth pellets at the EBU and Eden with no regard for the consequences was fucking GLORIOUS. All the things he said needed to be said and were said without a filter. It was pure oxygen and precisely what we all needed to hear, spoken because of its TRUTH and not for clout.

Then, the disqualification. It was 'a valid DQ' purely from a rules perspective but come on now. This was not a DQ worthy incident. He didn't touch the woman and she deliberately, repeatedly refused to respect his privacy despite multiple warnings AND an agreement he made with the EBU. How has this even been reported as a 'crime'? He APOLOGIZED profusely to the lady in question and she refused to hear him and called the police on him. Sometimes you just have the misfortune of running into a Karen on a bad day. And given how riddled with tension this year's backstage was, every day of rehearsals was a bad day for everyone involved.

The DQ went through because the EBU can't fucking clear up the slightest inconvenience. By the time the police became involved, there was no turning back, and they were forced to DQ as per their bureaucracy. The rest is backpedaling.

Both of these things made me feel more sympathetic towards Joost as a person. At the end of the day he's a deeply troubled, complex, tragic figure who (barely) functions on copium and is really terrible at expressing his true feelings and the events surrounding his DQ check out with that. He needs support from those who love him (and enter therapy.) The other delegations taking his side (other than ofc KUN(ts)), is a wholesome signal and proves that Europe can be United By Music even when it is Divided By Politics first. If this disqualification is what leads to some much-needed overhauls for next year (ideally the sacking of Österdahl, the cancellation of the MorroccanOil sponsorship and KAN's expulsion, in any order), I will gladly accept Joost's role in that as the proverbial sacrifce that needed to be made.

Ironically, it was the disqualification that made me realize I shouldn't bump Joost higher out of sympathy for his personality. I didn't miss Europapa on Saturday and barely noticed its absence. The results in the Grand Final were great, specifically because Switzerland won and Croatia beat Israel in the televote. If Joost competes, Swizterland and Croatia's TVs go down in western Europe, while Israel is still top five (since she beat Joost in the semi). He also shoves Bambie out of their serendipitous 6/6/6 placements to boot.

That realization is why I need to eliminate him NOW and not later down the road. I don't care for the song as a Eurovision entry, I DISLIKE the live performance and his presence could have made the results worse for me. Easy elimination at this stage.

Those that care about "Europapa" can keep singing its praises and should. Joost will need and shall appreciate the support after this nightmare Eurovision.

Ultimately though, I am not of his fans.

THE RANKING

[runawaymun]

if you don't mind me asking, what's wrong with kataang? i haven't watched avatar but i know the plot through osmosis, and wanted to hear your thoughts on that

Ah okay! Let me try to explain...

Caveat 1: this will probably be a bit rambly Caveat 2: it has been a long time since I watched either At:LA or TLoK, but I have watched it both as a kid (teenager, really) and as an adult multiple times.

My problems with kataang is kind of split into two categories: problems with the ship based off of who they are as characters from a writing/themes/narrative arc/messaging standpoint, and problems presented by how the creators of At:LA and TLoK - Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konieztko (not Aaron Ehasz you're doing amazing sweetie) treat the characters and seem to think about the characters, based off of choices that they made in the telling of the story, especially how the characters are treated in their endgame scenario in TLoK (which, notably, Aaron Ehasz didn't write for due to creative differences).

TLDR: IMO Kataang ruins the character arcs, they're bad for each other, and the writers did a disservice to Katara in favorite of their pet meow meow -- which hurt both character arcs and legacies, ultimately.

My chief issue is that Katara and Aang are bad for each other, romantically. They bring out the worst in each other. They're bad at holding healthy boundaries, bad at communicating, and the ship itself is very unbalanced. And I wouldn't have a problem with this if it was recognized by the narrative or the shippers, but the narrative treats them as a great love story when really it's anything but. I won't get into age differences -- because by the time they marry a two-year age difference is very negligible and I don't really think it's a good argument against the ship (even if I do think that shipping a 12 year old boy with a 14 year old girl is insane like what 14 year old girl WANTS to date a 12 year old boy. 12 year old boys are gross haha <3) -- but let's talk about it from a thematic and character growth standpoint.

Aang's arc is fundamentally about not running away from his problems, and learning to step into his role as the Avatar. He struggles with responsibility, struggles with emotional regulation, and struggles in the tension between being very much a 12-13yo kid, and being the Avatar, who has to save the world. His arc is beautiful. It's done SO WELL. And he manages to stay true to himself and I love that for him.

Katara's arc IMO is fundamentally about learning to fight for herself, and not just for others. Katara is very maternal. She has had to grow up extremely quickly in the face of losing both parents at a young age, and understanding that she has to live in constant fear of being murdered for her waterbending abilities. She constantly has to stand up for herself, and has a bad habit of suppressing difficult feelings in lieu of helping others work through theirs. This culminates in Katara taking several seasons (iirc) to actually properly talk to someone about her grief and the burden she is carrying, and to learn to set healthy boundaries -- to help her friends and to grow into a strong warrior and work on herself.

The problem here is that the narrative, over and over, forces Katara to emotionally regulate Aang, and this is never really addressed. They have really poor boundaries and she's always mothering him -- Aang is not a partner for her. He doesn't often reciprocate the same level of support that she gives to him -- mostly because he is twelve. Katara, narratively, acts like a crutch for Aang to lean on. Aang actively holds Katara back from setting healthy boundaries and growing into her own person.

They have an emotionally imbalanced relationship, and again -- Michael and Bryan really don't ever try to rectify this, and I think also they're just really bad at writing romance idk. Because over and over Aang makes passes at Katara, and Katara never really expresses interest. That could be down to Katara being bad at expressing her emotions, but it really doesn't feel like it. The last straw for me -- from a narrative standpoint, is the episode where Aang confesses his feelings to Katara, Katara literally says "I don't know how to feel. I'm confused." And Aang, without asking, decides that this is the perfect moment to kiss her.

Which, fine. They're kids. Kids make mistakes. They don't do things perfectly. I'm fine with characters making mistakes. But for a kids' show that's pretty intent on helping us all learn good life lessons -- this is never addressed. Katara is never given the chance to say "Hey, I didn't appreciate that." Aang never is made to apologize for crossing a boundary. It's treated as just a big stepping stone toward their incredibly forced romantic arc. And I hate hate hate when stories tell boys that the appropriate response to a girl asking for space to sort out her feelings/being unsure is to oh, just kiss her, to help her figure it out! instead of, I don't know, let her make up her own mind and give her space. "I don't know" is not fucking consent, and they shouldn't treat it like it is. Especially not in a kids' show.

Which-- yeah, that kind of leads well into my second problem with Kataang - which is how the creators of the show treat it. To them, Kataang is endgame, it is in the "DNA of the show" as one put it. Which is very weird to me because it is so, so poorly done, and the writers really seem to care so little for Katara. Why do I think this? Because of how they choose to treat Katara in TLoK.

Katara, in her 80s in TLoK, is relegated to a healer and teacher. She's insignificant to the story when characters like Zuko and Toph get much cooler entrances and scenes. She's stuck being a passive bystander to a war (Katara would never.) She's stuck being a healer (Which, sure, she is. But so much of At:LA she chafed at being put in that box! She's also a fighter, goddamnit!) -- and some people have tried to say "well what do you want an 80 year woman to do?" and I don't! fucking! buy it! Characters in At:LA were badass fighters well into their 80s, like Hama (the fearsome bloodbender), Pakku (the Waterbender), Iroh (y'know...), and most notably, Bumi, who is 112 fucking years old. Don't give me "80 year old Katara sits on her ass at home while the men go out and do things and Zuko, at the same age, is literally riding around the world on fucking dragonback." I won't have it. It's Katara slander, I tell you! Let that old woman be a badass!!!

And the writers even go so far as to erase her from her kids' lives! They never talk about her!!! It is always about Aang! Always Aang! And you just get the impression that Katara dropped absolutely everything to be "The Avatar's wife" and SHE DESERVED BETTER RAUDGAHSGH

She doesn't! even! get! an honorary statue! On the very island on which she should! be a war hero! Aang does! Toph does! Zuko does! EVEN SOKKA DOES. The ENTIRE Gaang gets a statue, except Katara. That is a deliberate art choice! WHY did they leave her out?

They absolutely destroyed her ENTIRE At:LA arc in TLoK, and I am honestly not even surprised because the writers have said outright that Aang is a self insert character, and that Kataang is "that childhood romance that we both wanted as kids". Katara, in their brains -- and idk maybe this is unjust-- but she seems to be just the amalgamation of those 14 year old girls that wouldn't give them the time of day when they were snotty twelve year olds, except they're writing the story so of course Aang gets the girl.

Anyway, this doesn't even go into how there are infinitely better choices for Katara, and how Aang's arc is worsened by having a romantic subplot, and etc. etc. I could go on forever about how much I dislike Kataang from a narrative standpoint.

Literally my first thought when I heard they left the Netflix show "due to creative differences" was: "Oh my god, is it because there's no kataang???" and now that there's confirmed to be no kataang and that they may be going a zutara route instead, I'm convinced that's why.

Because it's "in the DNA of the show, you see" they have broken with cocreators before over their pet self insert ship and the narrative treatment of Katara (Aaron Ehasz), and I don't see any reason why they'd change.

alkdasdlkgh anyway. God. Thanks for the ask! Sorry about the really long anti kataang rant aslkdgh. This got kind of aggressive but I do feel very strongly about the treatment of Katara. My girl deserved so much better.

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 31st of July, 2023

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 31st of July, 2023

Question: Why did we get that article supporting Queen Camilla's "joy in jewels" (and who was behind it)?

Introduction: The article came from the BRF. It shows a petty side of Queen Camilla that reflects how unhappy she is in her role as Queen.

Card One: The Ten of Pentacles

This is a card of financial security, of reaching a point of completion and success. You have enough money/assets/financial stability to look after your family and to pass on a legacy to your descendants. It is a card of family, legacy, inheritance, affluence, and tradition.

The legacy energy is coming through strongly here. Queen Camilla wants part of her legacy to be "the one with the jewels". She wants to be seen as the queen who wore the jewellery, like Queen Mary. There is a minor energy of gloating here as well - a mindset of "I am the queen so I get to wear the jewels" - but it is not the dominant energy. The dominant energy is that regardless of how she actually feels about gems and jewellery, Queen Camilla wants to be remembered as the one with the jewels - that is part of the image of herself as queen that she wants to leave for posterity.

There is also an energy of tradition about this card. I think that Camilla is trying to be what she thinks of as a "traditional queen", even though that image does not really fit her as a person.

Card Two: Death, Reversed

Death is a card of change that can not be reversed, of moving from one state to another and not being able to go back. This reflects Camilla's passage from being the Duchess of Cornwall to being Queen. That change is permanent, and she can't go back to her prior life, no matter how much she might want to.

Death in reverse is resisting the change shown by the upright card, and/or being unhappy with it, and/or being stuck in negative patterns (not changing out of them). The energy I get from this card is one of unhappiness. Camilla is unhappy with her life as Queen, she does not like it, and she is resisting the changes to her life that come with the change as much as possible. Her wearing the big jewels feels like a way that she is compensating herself for this change. The energy is "I don't want it and I don't want to do it, but if I have to do it then at least I can wear all the jewels and rub my status in everyone's faces". It is coming from a place of deep unhappiness. Camilla is unable to rise above this negative behaviour and make something positive out of it, such as embracing her duty and finding satisfaction in doing it with a smile, or looking for the positive points of her new role. Instead she seems stuck in the grumbling, petty energy that is stubbornly refusing to change with her changed circumstances.

Death is also one of the card that signifies King Charles, as it represents Scorpio and he is a sun sign Scorpio. In reverse, it says that King Charles is unhappy about this situation, most likely because Camilla is unhappy and he wants her to be happy.

Card Three: The Sun, reversed

This is another card of unhappiness. The Sun in reverse is being pessimistic, looking at the dark side of things, having negative attention on you, not being able to find any joy in life, etc. It is also the card of being conceited and letting your ego run rampant.

The energy of this card is one of negative attention and of indulging your ego. When Camilla wore all the jewels at a state banquet in Germany, she received negative attention for that act, and I think that upset her as she was expecting a positive reaction. The article is in part a push back against the negative comments she received at that time. It is also a massaging of her ego (she is the only living member of the BRF with 'joy in jewels') as it presents her in a very positive light.

The article is also pushback for The Princess of Wales wearing a flower tiara at the coronation. I feel that Camilla expected to be on all the front pages the next day, and she was upset that she wasn't, and she was also upset that The Princess of Wales had circumvented the 'no tiara' rule with her floral headdress without breaking the rule. I'm not getting jealousy of The Princess of Wales, but rather that Camilla expected to be the centre of attention and she wasn't, so she is upset about that, and this is her way of getting even for it. Camilla is indulging her ego and letting it dictate her actions, and that never ends well.

Wearing the big jewellery is also a way of indulging her ego as she sees it is a way of focusing the attention on her, and that is what she expects to happen now she is Queen - that she will be the centre of attention at any event that she attends. Camilla does not seem to realise that it is the inner light of a person that determines if attention is paid to them or not, and that by indulging her ego and her pettiness like this she is making herself less appealing to people.

Underlying Energy: The Hierophant

The Hierophant is the card for marriage and for institutions. Here it represents the BRF. Camilla has married into the BRF and currently she is very unhappy because of the role that comes with her marriage. If it continues, that unhappiness and her expression of that unhappiness (wearing all the jewels to rub her status in everyone's faces and to get all the attention etc), could end up being a threat to the stability of the BRF, but that is not the case at this point in time.

The Hierophant card as the underlying energy says that the article came from the King, most likely in his role as husband of an unhappy wife, and this is supported by the unhappy Charles card (Death in reverse) appearing directly above the Hierophant in the spread.

The Hierophant card also tells me that the BRF is the source of the behaviour that prompted the article in the first place and the source of the article itself. Camilla is unhappy with her role in the BRF so she wears the jewels to make herself feel better, she was criticised for wearing too many jewels and she was upstaged by the Princess of Wales in a floral headpiece (not jewels) on her coronation day, so she is using the power of the BRF to get back at the people who criticised her with the support of her husband, the King. The BRF is the thread that runs through everything here, both as an institution and as the people involved.

I drew a clarifier for this card and it was the Page of Swords - spiteful communication that spreads over the world. Camilla really did not like people commenting on her appearance at the state banquet in unflattering terms, and she did not like the attention being on Catherine at her coronation, so this article is her petty revenge.

Cards: Three out of four cards in this reading are major arcana, so this is a big deal for Camilla and we will see it play out in public in the future.

Conclusion:

The article was put out by the BRF to massage Camilla's ego and as a push back against recent criticism about her. It was supported by King Charles, who is currently unhappy with the situation because his wife is unhappy and he wants her to be happy. If putting out articles like this makes her happier, he will put them out as much as he can.

Camilla is not a happy woman. She has reached the pinnacle of her career, being Queen, and she does not like it. She is resisting the changes that come with her new position with all her might. She is also stuck in petty patterns of behaviour that she is unable to leave behind her.

Camilla does not like people saying anything negative about her. She expects all the attention to be on her now that she is Queen, and she expects it to be positive attention. When that does not happen, either because people react negatively to her behaviour or because they focus on other members of the BRF, she uses her new position to take a petty revenge on those she sees as thwarting her, such as putting out articles like this one.

The energy from these cards is of someone who is deeply unhappy and who is stuck in negative patterns of behaviour, while at the same time they are misusing their power to boost their ego and take petty stabs at people who they see they as obstacles to their plans (this didn't work out the way I had imagined because of X, let me take petty stabs at X to make myself feel better).

I feel that Camilla has an image of how she should appear as Queen (e.g. the one wearing the jewels) and she is stuffing herself into that image regardless of whether it reflects her as a person or not.

The tragedy of all this is that Camilla is better than this. She has shown in the past that she is capable of rising above negative attention and continuing to live her life as she wants to live it. She needs to find that inner dignity again and to find the positives in her new role, making it into something that she can be happy or at least satisfied to work within. As an example of this, instead of having her legacy as 'the Queen with all the jewels', maybe she could aim for being 'the Queen who made a major difference to domestic violence sufferers' or something like that - take the focus of her thoughts off herself and instead put it on what she can do for others, as a continuation of her past work in this area.

If Camilla continues on her current path - being petty, indulging her ego, expecting all the attention, resenting being Queen and resisting the changes to her life - then she will continue to be very unhappy. The only way she can turn the situation around for herself is to let go of her ego, take the higher path, focus on the positives in her new status, and make the role of Queen something that reflects her, not her idea of what a Queen should be like.

[silvervinewine]

AT EASE SOLIDER, WAR HAS ENDED, YOU CAN FINALLY REST (W/ CHILDE, XIAO, SCARAMOUCHE)

CHILDE

every seasoned solider has time to rest, after all battles only ever wear down your body. rest is time to heal, it is essential for any warrior. TARTAGLIA knows it is a human need, even if the bloodthirsty voice inside him demands for more. the voice is unwavering in its demand, growing resentful and spiteful when deadlines aren't met.

like any other human, CHILDE soon finds himself tired. he has finally succombed to the weariness of his body, letting himself go. the voice wants more, his body still pumped full of adrenaline wanting more fight. he stumbles across the fatui's medical ward, the tear that the foul legacy transformation does on his body is unmeasurable but he always manages to come out even stronger. that is who he is, that is what makes him a formidable foe. although he does always heal, the period of rest is unbearable. limping across the cold hallways, he clutches his arm sling close to his body, pressing himself to a wall as he gets a glimpse of you.

you are terrifying, a horror that can only match the tsaritsa herself, always making sure he stays in bed, taking extreme measures to do so. just as he think he's safe sighing, he turns to walk some more only to find you, arms crossed with a stern expression. he has been caught.

he is pulled to his room and snuggled up with blankets, he is acclimated to the cold of his homeland, a measly medical ward wouldn't freeze him to death, but you relent. you sit in a stool next to him, holding his hand. your reading a book, your voice resonating through the room. his thoughts calm as the only thing he could think about is you. the voice is long gone and he finally has time to rest.

XIAO

adeptus do not find any need to sleep, was a statement you were becoming far too familiar with. being an adeptus, XIAO absolutely refused any sleep, deeming it completely useless for him. yet whenever he comes back home feet trailing the ground and eyes half lidded begging to rest, you wished he went easier on himself.

could he spare some time for rest? time for peace.

the soft night breeze coming from an open window, as he came limping to the bed, sitting on the edge inches away from you while you were deep into slumber. he looks at your face, devoid of any emotions.

and for a brief second he lets his thoughts wonder, a sweet temptation of joining you. but alas, it is only a temptation, a thought he could only dream of.

he secures his polearm tightly, at once sitting up from the bed you were sleeping in. the bed creaks, as he find you wide awake. your eyes soften, gaze on him, only him. rubbing your forehead as you look at him, clearly drowsy, XIAO knows he has made a mistake. you take his hand into your own, eyes meet and at once he lets his guard down. there are still dangers out there, demons to be defeated. yet like always, his mind gives up.

he finds himself your arms, his forehead touching yours, at he is reminded of his past guilts. only when most vunerable, do dark thoughts seep into his mind. a weight on his shoulders always present, even when he tries to run. you kiss him, seemingly able to notice his exasperation. his expression turning into one of calm as his eyes close shut.

he will try to rest for once, if that means you will be able to be safe.

SCARAMOUCHE

SCARAMOUCHE is a mechanical puppet. he does not sleep, it is not within his biology to do so. though, you do sleep, you need sleep to be well. this is one of the many differences between you two.

you are rather nice to others, you connect with people with time. he constantly mistreats those he deems lower to him, he is tolerated by others. you are rather irresponsible with certain tasks, even if you have the capacity to finish them. he completes everything with a robotic precision.

you are the most annoying person he's ever met, but he can't help to be drawn to you. after all, you are the only person who's always come back to him. three betrayals he's suffered, every moment with you expecting one more being added to the list. yet in all your time together, you've never let him down, majorly that is. all minor disappointments are forgiven, though.

you've been a listening ear, guarding all his inner most feelings. you've given him advice, you've given him a home. you're his home, you're his constant, you're someone he can... tolerate. everything he does with you is a bother, that should just be done accordingly. yet never refused... he furrows his brows, annoyed at your silly proposal to take a break, go out somewhere and escape from the many labours of work. even if that dream destination is an isolated fatui camp.

he is trying, okay? he should get an award at the effort he's taking, after all he really does not find the purpose of rest in the first.

the day slipped through his fingers, as time always did when he was with you. laying on your lap was only for special ocassions, and today was one. your hand scratching his scalp, running your fingers through his hair, the warmth of your body pressed into him gave him a sense of calm. you handled him with delicate touch, as if he were a fine porcelain doll, afraid he might shatter with enough pressure.

he did not have the guts to tell you he quite appreciated your efforts, going as far as declaring he liked you. he thought of speaking, but words failed, besides he was SCARAMOUCHE the balladeer, an untouchable pillar of pride. he had appearances to keep up with, but if the stars aligned, maybe just maybe he would have a sliver of chance that you also felt as warm as he felt with you. you were his home and his constant, you were far too precious to lose.

(A/N: yes scara's part is longer, its my first time writing for him, couldn't hold back)

[yakumtsaki]

We're back for the last update before Barflina fucks off to college! This is one giant update I have to split in 2 parts them thanks to the liferuining new 30 pics limit, I will post part 2 right after this one. I don't mean to be dramatic but the universe cannot contain my hatred for the new post editor. At least I have Wendi looking all cute and regal.

-I will NEVER have kittens with Shinok, I hate him and his stupid, not coordinated grey leg coloring!

What?? WHO CARES

-I care, look at my beautiful cohesive coat! His genes would ruin it and our kids would be freaks!

-Jimbo, on the other hand, is a perfect specimen! Now that's a good addition to my gene pool!

Jimbo, the leopard print, custom slider freakshow DOG is a perfect specimen for you, Wendi the CAT. I'm starting to suspect you're a cross-species perv and Shinnok's legs aren't the problem here.

-Shut it! Leave that elderly deer bitch Veronica, Jim, and run away with me!

-Oh Wendi, I don't know, it seems wrong..

-I hear you, baby, but maybe it's so wrong.. it's right?

-KEEP YOUR SLUTTY PERVERTED WIFE AWAY FROM MY MAN, SHINNOK

-HOW AM I THE ONE GETTING BEAT UP I HATE THIS HOUSE I HATE MY LIFE

-I'M RUNNING AWAY AND NEVER COMING BACK, YOU CAN KISS THE CAT LEGACY GOODBYE!!!

10 seconds later:

-Ok I'm back, just in time for my birthday!

Happy birthday, Shinnok, your present is your dad dying at the exact same time. WTF @ game timing.

-Daddy no!

-I'm off to join your mother in cat heaven, Shinnok!

-But Mom hated you!

-Oh right she did, well she's probably in Hell anyway. Guard those mismatched grey legs you got from me, they are my legacy!

-I will Dad! I will!!

RIP Klaus, you were a sweetheart, I'm sorry you had to mate with Kitana💔

Xander and Sandy are each other's fav and Sandy is constantly late for work because she's fucking around playing with him. I'd like to remind you guys that I've been trying to get her to the top of the culinary career since SOPHITO AND SUGAR WERE CHILDREN

-B̷U̴T ̸I ̷L̷O̷V̴E̵ XA̴N̸D̵E̶R̵🧟‍♀️

Will you get your zombie ass to work, Xander will be here when you come back!

NEVER MIND. WHY CAN'T THIS GAME SPACE OUT THE PET DEATHS A LITTLE GOOD GOD.

RIP Xander, you were the best dog we've had so far, you were so good and loyal and kept running into fires with your dumbass owners. I'll miss you💔

-I ̴D̶I̵D̶ ̶I̷T, I F̷I̸N̷A̴L̷L̶Y̵ ̵D̴I̸D̵ ̶I̸T̶! W̴H̵E̷R̷E̵'̸S̶ M̵Y ̸D̵O̷G̷ ̴BA̷B̷Y🧟‍♀️

Sandy I'm so happy for you, and also I'd like to talk to you about the law of equivalent exchange.

Could it be that there are too many people in this house?? Could it??? I'm starting to feel it's possible.

OH FFS, VERONICA

AWWWW they have Jimbo's spots, so cute! God this lot is gonna explode.

SO CUTE. MY HEART

Time for Liz's cucky birthday party with no guests because I'm already tempting fate with this lot.

-Thank you, balloons, for protecting the viewing public from Failina's face. -This face has been making out with Meadow Thayer while you're getting rejected by the Tricou Don clones. -SHUT UP I'LL KILL YOU -Can I blow my candles now? -Not yet, Mom, I'm not done bringing up Barf's humiliating dating failures.

Please go ahead, Liz, and also where the hell is your husband.

-Playing catch with Sugar.

Of course he is.

-Happy birthday to me!

Do you feel any different, other than this awful outfit that I'm changing asap?

-Now that you mention it I do..

-..I feel the inexplicable need to fight with my 100yo mother-in-law despite the fact we're friends!

Liz wtf WHY

-There can only be one cunty matriarch around here and it is I! And also I'm a way better lawyer than you ever were! Now let me just get my makeover-

-So I can berate you some more!

WHY IS THIS HAPPENING. Liz wtf is your problem??? It's literally like a switch flipped as soon as she aged up, what on earth.

-I EAT LITTLE 60YOS LIKE YOU FOR BREAKFAST, BITCH

She does, Liz, she really does. You come at the queen, you best not miss! But I still don't get why this feud erupted out of nowhere??

Oh my God.. IT'S BARFLINA. We have the quite possibly first case in history where it isn't the adults exposing the children to violence and setting abusive patterns, it's the other way around!!! YOU TWO ARE TEARING THIS FAMILY APART, EVEN SHAJAR AND HER 1 NICE POINT ARE HORRIFIED -GOOD, THIS FAMILY CAN GO TO HELL!!! FROM ITS ASHES MY NEW DYNASTY WILL RISE -SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT YOUR DYNASTY ALREADY -YOU'LL NEVER HAVE A DYNASTY BECAUSE NO ONE WILL EVEN DATE YOU -THEY SO WILL AND THEY'LL BE BETTER THAN YOUR BIMBO -TAKE HER NAME OUT OF YOUR GROSS MISSHAPEN MOUTH -WE HAVE THE SAME MOUTH, MORON -YA BUT MINE HAS BEEN KISSED, INCEL -I'LL KILL YOU -I'LL KILL YOU MORE

-Dad, someone will date me, right?? -Of course they will, son! You'll be a hoe, like your dad was before you! -But no one wants to date me! You had 50 first dates, I clearly get my genes from you but not the success! -Well, you'll have to relax and play it cool. You come across a little neurotic and/or psychotic. You get that from your mom. -You're right, Dad, I won't call the matchmaker until I'm as relaxed as one of those pimples chilling on Failina's gross oily forehead!

-Ah, nothing more relaxing than a nice, hot cup of tea..

-..with the view of Uncle Sugar setting Sandy's spine back in place. -I̸T FE̵L̸L ̴O̸F̷F🧟‍♀️ -Ok, I'm ready for my date!

See you in part 2, coming right up!

[harriswalz4usabybr]

Thursday, August 15, 2024 - Kamala Harris & Tim Walz

The Vice President and Governor Walz joined forces together today on the campaign trail. They were making their way through the state of North Carolina. The Governor of the state, Roy Cooper joined them on the campaign trail today. Today was a busy day with 4 campaign stops.

Event #1 (Raleigh, NC) Event Location: Steps of the North Carolina State Capitol Event Type: Call for Policy Change and Activism Event Time: 9:00 - 10:00 ET

Event #2 (Raleigh, NC) Event Location: North Carolina State University Event Type: Get Out the Vote Event Time: 11:00 - 13:00 ET

Event #3 (Greensboro, NC) Event Location: NC Agricultural & Technical State University Event Type: Interview moderated by a member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Inc, Alpha Phi Chapter Event Time: 15:00 - 17:00 ET

Event #4 (Charlotte, NC) Event Location: Bank of America Stadium Event Type: Campaign Rally Event Time: 19:00 - 22:00 ET

Raleigh, NC Full-text of speech from event #1 to be released shortly. The event on NCSU's campus was well received and numerous student clubs were present for the kick-off of the event.

Greensboro, NC Here are 2 questions that garnered a very positive response from the audience: Q: "In today's environment of racial and identity politics, do you feel that you were forced to pick a white man as your running mate?" A: "No, unequivocally. My decision to choose Coach Walz as my running mate was not influenced by racial or identity politics. It was about finding someone who shares my vision, my values, who has a proven track record of bringing people together to get things done, and can be a little fun while doing it. Tim is an experienced leader, a former educator, and a person who has dedicated his life to public service. I considered many exceptional individuals for this role, including leaders like Governor Whitmer, clearly if I considered a second woman identity politics weren't at play. What mattered most in my decision was finding the right person to help lead this country, someone who understands the challenges we face and who can help unify our nation during these divided times.Moving forward, I hope we can reach a point where questions like this are no longer necessary because our focus should be on qualifications, character, and the ability to lead, not just the identity of the individuals. Tim is the right choice!" Q: "Is HBCU funding for schools like NC A&T a priority for your administration, given your personal background?" A: "Well, let me just say, I think it’s pretty clear where my priorities lie, considering I attended an HBCU myself! I'm thankful for my Howard experience every day. And let’s not forget, my running mate, Governor Walz, is a former educator. So yes, HBCU funding is not just a priority—it’s a personal commitment. HBCUs have played a crucial role in shaping leaders, innovators, and changemakers in our country for generations. They provide not just education but also a sense of community, pride, and identity. Our administration is committed to ensuring that HBCUs have the resources they need to continue their legacy of excellence."

Charlotte, NC Below are one quote from Governor Cooper, one from Governor Walz, and two from Vice President Harris that are from the remarks made at today's rally. "North Carolina is not just a battleground state; it’s the proving ground for our democracy. We’ve been underestimated before, but we know that when we stand together, nothing can stop us. We’re going to fight for every vote, every voice, because the future of our country depends on it. Now let me welcome to the stage the next Vice President of the United States of America, Tim Walz!" - Governor Roy Cooper "We are the underdogs in this race, but we’ve got something far more powerful than any poll or pundit’s prediction: the will of the people. We’re not going back to the days of division and chaos. Together, we’re building a future that unites us, and we’re not backing down from the fight because every American deserves a better tomorrow." - Governor Tim Walz

"Donald Trump is a threat to everything we hold dear—our values, our democracy, our future. But let me tell you this: we are stronger than fear, stronger than hate, and we’re going to prove that in every corner of North Carolina and across this great nation." - Vice President Kamala Harris "We’re not here to make America go back to some imagined ‘great’ past. We’re here to build a future that’s better for everyone. We’re not MAGA, we’re moving forward, and we’re not going to stop until every North Carolinian has a voice in that future. We’re not going back!"- Vice President Kamala Harris

~BR~