#he didn’t even protect himself from her sword like either he thought she wouldn’t go through with it or he just took the blow anyway

[godshivered]

me, watching freya try to strangle kratos to death: wow… there’s so much love here

[ezziefae]

Thoughts while reading The Prisoners Throne Excerpt

Here's a rushed annotation of some parts of the excerpt that really drew my attention. Jurdan fans be ready for many surprises.

"Imagine you have a weapon. They had been in Vivi’s second apartment, standing on a small metal balcony. Inside, Taryn and Vivi had been fussing over Leander, who was learning to crawl. The Ghost had asked about Oak’s training and been uninterested in the excuse that he was eleven, had to go to school, and couldn’t be swinging around a longsword in the common space of the lawn without neighbors getting worried."

(this is a flashback) Taryn’s child makes their first debut!! Taryn named the boy Leander. (I’m assuming its a boy name) Since the Ghost is in Vivi’s apartments could that be a hint that he’s romantically involved with Taryn? Or it could also be that he’s accompanied Taryn to protect her. It's super cool to see The Ghost and Oak training together.

"Oak had actually liked making his own sword. It was huge and black with a bright red hilt covered in demonish faces. It looked like the sword of someone in an anime he’d been watching, and he felt like a badass, holding it in his hands. The sight of Oak’s blade had made the Ghost smile, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, he started moving through a series of exercises, urging Oak to follow. He told the prince should call him by his non‑spy name, Garrett, since they were friends."

Love that Holly is still referencing anime in the Elfhame series. Can we also talk about The Ghost’s character development? In TFOTA series he always kept to himself, and now he’s letting his closest friends call him by his real name.

"The prince has been imprisoned three weeks, according to the tallies he’s made in the dust beneath the lone bench. Long enough to dwell on every mistake he has made on his ill‑fated quest."

THREE WEEKS??? What the heck have Jude and Cardan been doing for three weeks??? I honestly expected for him to be rescued asap. If anything Jude and Cardan have been carefully planning to save oak and I guess that takes a lot of time. 

"His family must be in a panic right now. He trusts that Tiernan got Madoc to Elfhame safely, no matter what the redcap general wanted. But Jude would be furious with Tiernan for leaving Oak behind and even angrier with Madoc, if she guesses just how much of this is his fault."

I really want to see someone from Elfhame’s POV on Jude finding out on Oak being taken prisoner by Wren. I want to see a raging Jude. I’d be terrified to be in Tiernan’s place, since it was his job to protect Oak, and he failed that.

"Possibly Cardan would be relieved to be rid of Oak, but that wouldn’t stop Jude from making a plan to get him back. Jude has been ruthless on Oak’s behalf before, but this is the first time it’s scared him. Wren is dangerous. She is not someone to cross. Neither of them are."

OHH??? OHHH???? So many things are thrown at us here. Oak has a reason to believe that Cardan doesn’t like him??? To the point where Oak believes Cardan would even be RELIEVED to get rid of him? That was SUPER unexpected. Oak finally takes it in that neither Wren or Jude are people to cross. As much as I hate saying this, I want a Jude and Wren fight. That would be amazing. Not saying I want either of them to die, or get hurt, but that would be an intense scene. 

“I can do better,” he says. “And perhaps you might bring me a little gossip to cheer the chilly monotony of my days.” “You’re very silly, Your Highness,” she says after a moment, biting her bottom lip a little.

Oak is using his most dangerous power, seduction. Screaming. 

"He remembers Oriana’s warning to him when he was a child. A power like the one you have is dangerous, she said. You can know what other people most want to hear. Say those things, and they will not only want to listen to you. They will come to want you above all other things. The love that a gancanagh inspires—some may pine away for desire of it. Others will carve the gancanagh to pieces to be sure no one else has it."

I'm so glad holly is diving deep into this, We know that Locke also had this power, and how he was wielding it in TFOTA series. 

"That night, he wakes to the sight of a snake crawling down the wall, its black metal body jeweled and glittering. A forked emerald tongue tastes the air at regular intervals, like a metronome. It startles him badly enough for him to back up against the bars, the iron hot against his shoulders. He has seen creatures like it before, forged by the great smiths of Faerie. Valuable and dangerous. The paranoid thought comes to him that poison would be one straightforward way to solve the problem of his being held by an enemy of Elfhame. If he were dead, there’d be no reason to pay a ransom."

Oak sees this snake, and he immediately thinks it was sent from elfhame to kill him. Which is insane for him to believe that. 

"He doesn’t think his sister would allow it, but there are those who might risk going around her. Grima Mog, the new grand general, would know exactly where to find the prince, having served the Court of Teeth herself. Grima Mog might look forward to the war it would start. And, of course, she answered to Cardan as much as Jude."

"Not to mention there was always the possibility that Cardan convinced Jude that Oak was a danger to them both."

WHAT IS THIS DISAPPROVAL CARDAN HAS ON OAK?? The fact that Oak believes Cardan sent the snake to KILL HIMM, that's absolute madness. Like what the helll did this man do to Oak to make him feel this way?? Cryingggg. 

"It yawns widely enough for him to see silver fangs. The links of its body move, and a ring comes up from its throat, clanging to the floor. He leans down and lifts it. A gold ring with a deep blue stone, scuffed with wear. His ring, a present from his mother on his thirteenth birthday and left behind on his dresser because it no longer fit his finger. Proof that this creature was sent from Elfhame. Proof that he was supposed to trust it."

THIS IS THE RING THAT'S ON THE COVER!! Now we know what the ring means to Oak!!

“Prinss,” it says. “In three daysssss, you mussss be ready for resssss‑cue.” “Rescue?” Not here to poison him, then. The snake just stares with its cold, glittering eyes.

Okay so Jude sent a snake as a messenger to Oak, to let him know that they're coming to save him in three days. Cool….coool.

“Give me longer,” he says, no matter that it’s ridiculous to negotiate with a metal snake and even more ridiculous to negotiate for his own imprisonment, just in order to get a chance to speak with someone who refuses to see him. “Two more weeks perhaps. A month.”

THIS STUBBORN BOYYYYYY. Oh I know Jude would be absolutely furious for that.

"Oak slides the ring onto his pinkie finger, watching the snake as it coils its way up the wall. Halfway to the ceiling, he realizes that just because it wasn’t sent to poison him doesn’t mean it wasn’t sent to poison someone."

BIG MISTAKE MISTER SNAKE, BIGGGGG MISTAKEEEE.

He jumps onto the bench and grabs for it, catching the end of its tail. With a tug, it comes off the wall, falling against his body and coiling around his forearm. “Prinsssss,” it hisses. As it opens its mouth to speak, he notes the tiny holes in the points of its silvery fangs. When it does not strike, Oak pries the snake carefully from around his arm. Then, gripping the end of its tail firmly, he slams it down against the stone bench. Hears the cracking of its delicate mechanical parts. A gem flies off. So does a piece of metal. He whips it against the bench again.

Oak really said “oh hell no, you're not killing the women i love, nah uh,” and then proceeds to kill it in a very violent unsettling manner. Everyone was right when they said that Oak was like Madoc.

Straun spits on the floor in front of the prince’s cage. “No amount of gold or gems will save you. If my winter queen wants you to rot here, you’re going to rot.” “Your winter queen?” Oak repeats, unable to stop himself. The falcon looks a little shamefaced and turns to go back to his post. He’s young, Oak realizes. Older than Oak, but not by so very much. Younger than Hyacinthe. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Wren made such an impression on him. It shouldn’t bother Oak, shouldn’t fill him with a ferocious jealousy.

THE JEALOUSY HAS ME CACKLING. He was imprisoned, neglected in his cell by wren and yet he's jealous whenever someone else has lovey dovey eyes for wren. This man is so down for wren, and I don’t blame him. 

The Ghost taught him how to move stealthily, but he’s never been very good at it. He blames his hooves, heavy and hard. They clack at the worst possible times. But he makes an effort, sliding them against the floor to minimize noise.

Super cool to see how much The Ghost has impacted Oak's skills. The court of shadows in general has been a huge part in Oak’s training and it shows.

Oak moves fast, jerking Straun backward and covering his nose and mouth with the cloth. The guard struggles, but inhaling blusher mushroom slows his movements. Oak presses him to the floor until he’s unconscious.

THERE WE GOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Welp, The excerpt ends in Oak escaping his cell…..after all thar chaos i've become too impatient. Just 3 Months until this book comes out !!! 

[dilucpainsme]

♡Our final goodbye♡

A snippet from one of fics

Yandere! Tartaglia Reader

Trigger Warning ⚠️

Kidnapping,blood, violence,

Characters: Diluc, Tartaglia

This is one of the later chapters of my favorite fic I've written. It's called Broken Chains, and its basically yandere tartaglia and protective diluc.

“Tartaglia sir!” A man entered the room causing Childe to wake from his sleep. “Ah what!” He moved from (Y/n)and sat up, looking at the guard, clearly annoyed with the man. “Diluc and people from Mondstadt were spot-” Childe gave him a deathly look before pointing at the door. “Out we can discuss more in a second.” The young man nodded his head frantically before running out of the room. “Diluc?” Her eyes widened. She knew she wasn’t crazy! Her eyes glared at Childe as he sighed loudly. He turned to face her with a blank look on his face.

“You told me- You said that I made it all up! I can’t believe I took your word-”

“You really think I would be honest with you (Y/n) ? How else would I even get a chance at breaking you if you thought he was real.” The man held his hands up in defense before speaking. “I thought I would really get away with it too. You cried so hard when I told you he was just a dream. It brought me tons of joy to see you so heartbroken.” His blank expression turned into a sick dark one. A twisted smile grew on his face as he pulled one of his swords out. “But this isn’t a lie, I’m going to kill him now.”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt him, you promised!”

“Remember when you broke your promise? We’ll I’m returning the favor.” He started to walk away from her. “If you hurt him or any of my friends I will kill you myself, I will find a way to fucking make sure I make you miserable. I will never ever go with you peacefully.” The ginger stopped in his tracks.

“Are you sure that’s what you wanna do?”

That’s a promise.”

He began walking towards her, but paused for a moment. It's like he was debating something, like he was fighting with himself. It didn't take him long to decide what he wanted to do though. Childe kneeled down to her level looking her in the eyes before saying “Oh really? Well if that’s the case.”

She didn’t see it coming, she never thought he would hurt her like this, but after everything he had done to her, she should’ve known. After every time he slashed her or slammed her against the wall. This shouldn’t be as shocking as it was. (Y/n) didn’t even feel the blade piercing her skin, she couldn't feel or hear the loud screams that left her mouth. They echoed off the walls alerting anyone nearby that something was wrong. “Then if I can’t have you, he can’t either.” He pressed one last kiss against her temples before repeating the motion with his other blade. Childe was really going to kill her. Leave her to die here in this hell hole. “Ajax-”

“This is our final goodbye (Y/n) .

[thebigbadbatswife]

As Long As I’m With You | Geralt of Rivia x Fem!Reader

Summary - Your small village is attacked by bandits and Geralt comes to your rescue.

Warnings - Canon-Typical Violence, Gore, Dismemberment, Blood, Rape Mention, Death, Hurt/Comfort, Geralt’s POV, Protective Geralt.

Word Count - 1.6k

As Geralt stalked around the edge of the village, steel sword in hand, he thought about how much he fucking hated bandits. It was the same story every time he came across a group of them. Senseless death for a few meager crowns. In some aspects they were more monstrous than the actual monsters he was paid to deal with.

The village was one that he frequented rather often. So often in fact that the people here would often greet him with smiles as he rode on through. No longer fearful of the white haired Witcher. That was all over with now. Their bodies were strewn across the ground, guts spilled, skulls cracked open and blood was soaking into the dirt, turning it black. It was clear that none of them had been shown any mercy and it made his hate grow.

He could only hope that she wasn’t here or, if she had, that she had managed to escape and get somewhere safe.

A scream pierced the air and it sent ice through his veins.

Geralt’s steps quicked. As he rounded the corner of one of the houses, he saw her, being dragged out of her house, by her feet. The ice in his veins melted as fire hot fury coursed through his entire being.

He reached them in a couple of bounds, grabbing the man that had hold her by his greasy ponytail. He yanked the bandit backwards, who let go of her as he cried out in surprise, and sent him straight into the dirt.

He put himself between her and the bandits, his lips raised in a snarl. They had hurt her. No doubt aimed to rape and kill her. For that, and everything else they had done, none of them would be leaving here alive. 

“Get inside!” he barked, keeping his sword ready and eyes trained on the men ahead of him. He knew she had listened by the slamming of the door behind him.

He counted ten men in total. This wouldn’t be a very long fight.

A couple of the men faltered in their approach. Their eyes widening at the sight of the golden hue of his eyes and the wolf head medallion that was hanging from his throat. He could smell the stench of their fear. They knew exactly what he was, what he was capable of and it terrified them. Good. The rest either hadn’t realised or they didn’t care, believing that because they outnumbered him that meant they had a chance at beating him. They really didn’t, but they would be learning that the hard way.

A man with a rusted blade charged first. He yelled out and struck at Geralt. He parried the blade effortlessly and casted Aard, sending the man flying backwards into a couple of his friends.

A larger man than the first, brandishing a large ax came up next, swinging for his head. He dodged the swing and struck with his sword, slicing cleanly through another man’s arm. He howled in agony, falling to his knees and clutching the bloody stump while blood gushed through his fingers.

Geralt dodged another swing from the ax and blocked several blows from a couple of swordsmen. He followed up with several strikes of his own, gutting two and slicing another one in half. He continued like that, a blur on the battlefield, as he dodged, slashed and switched between casting Aard and Igni.

He made short work of the men, adding to the bodies that already littered the ground.

The man with the ax was the last one standing. He swung for him again, but this time as he dodged, the ax became embedded within the wall of one of the houses. Before he was even given a chance to dislodge it, Geralt’s sword glided through his neck, separating his head from the rest of his body. His body hit the ground first, shortly followed by his head.

He didn’t spare another look at the scene. He cleaned the blood from his blade and returned it to its scabbard. 

He walked over to the house, mindful of where he was stepping, and knocked on the door.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s safe now.” His voice was gentle. He slowly pushed the door open, unsurprised by how easily it opened. The damage to the doorframe told him all he needed to know. Anger rose up in him again, but he swallowed it down. Anger was the last thing she needed from him right now.

He was barely finished with opening the door before he felt her throw herself at him. Her arms wrapped around the back of his neck and she buried her face within the crook of his neck, not caring about the blood that covered his armour. Geralt’s arms immediately wrapped around her and he held her shaking form close to him as she sobbed.

He moved them further into the house, quickly finding a chair to sit in and pulled her onto his lap. His hands ran up and down her back and he murmured soft and reassuring words. However, when it became apparent that she wasn’t calming down and was becoming more distressed, he decided to cast Axii and told her to sleep. It wasn’t how he had wanted to calm her down, but with none of the usual ways working, it had seemed the best option.

She fell asleep quickly as he carefully got up from the chair and carried her over to the nearby bed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before making his way back outside, where he whistled for his horse.

Roach appeared a few minutes later. She snorted as she approached. Her ears were flat against her head and she was swishing her tail. He stroked her muzzle and casted Axii again.

“Good girl,” he murmured to her. Geralt knew that she didn’t like it, the smell of all the blood and death, but they’d be out of there soon enough.

With Roach now calm, he took the saddlebags off of her and headed back inside. He set them down on the table and started loading them with the essentials he knew she would need for the journey ahead. He also grabbed the provisions he knew that she often kept for him. He had never asked her to start doing it. She just did one day and when he had discovered it, he honestly couldn’t recall feeling so touched or loved as much as he did that day. It had become clear that day just how much she loved him.

Now, it seemed, it would likely become another thing lost to the past.

Geralt felt guilty. He knew that he shouldn’t. What had taken place here today wasn’t his fault. Yet he had himself wondering if he hadn’t taken on that one extra contract. Would things have been different? Could he have prevented it? Or would it have just happened some other time, a time where he wouldn’t be here to protect her?

He pushed the thought away before he swirled down that rabbithole any further. What if’s weren’t helpful and he needed to focus on getting them both far, far away from here.

When he was done with loading the saddlebags, and they were back on Roach, he gently lifted her into his arms and carried her outside. Once they were both on Roach’s back, he directed her to leave the village.

They rode on for a long time after that. His mind focused on finding a safe place far away. Eventually, he did find a place he deemed safe enough.

Geralt was careful not to jostle her too much as he got down from Roach and gently propped her up against a tree. He fetched a bedroll from the saddle, unrolled it and laid her on it. He then set about getting a fire started, so they wouldn’t freeze.

She woke up a few hours later, dazed and confused. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and looking around. He got up from where he was crouched by the fire and came to her side. She gasped and whimpered and Geralt pulled her close to him. Her hands gripped his clothing as she began to cry again.

“I’m here, love. You’re safe,” he murmured.

“They’re all gone,” she whispered so quietly that if it wasn’t for his Witcher hearing he would have missed it. “They’re all gone.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

Over the next few days, as they travelled, she was very quiet and withdrawn. She was barely eating and sleeping as well and when she did sleep she always woke up screaming.

Geralt wished that he could take her pain away, but this wasn’t a monster that he could slay with his sword. She needed time to grieve and she needed him to be there for her, like she’d been there for him after Vesimir.

Roach’s hooves gently clopped against the cobblestone path of the town they were currently in. They had arrived late in the night and, thankfully, the inn here had had a room still available. He hadn’t slept much, but she had slept throughout the entire night. Not even the smallest of noises had escaped her lips and she even looked better rested this morning, as well as had a proper meal. It made him feel better knowing that she had slept and had had something proper to eat, finally.

“Where are we going?” she asked, as she looked up at him.

“Kaer Morhen. I’m running low on elixirs and it’ll be safe for you there,” Geralt explained.

She hummed softly, as she turned to look back at the road. “Okay.”

“Is that okay?” he asked, suddenly aware that he hadn’t actually checked whether or not that was okay with her. 

She nodded and leant back against his front. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care where we go. Just—” she took a deep breath —“just please don’t leave me alone.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Of course, love. Never again.”

[slate-skylar]

pink tourmaline

time: after the parade

ft. @cress-meadowforge

“I wish we could live somewhere else. You and me. We deserve to live somewhere else. That’s what I want. I don’t want to die, I want to live, but not… like this.”

tw: suicide attempt

-

The cheers of the crowd echoed in his ears even now, in his room. No one had kicked him out or forced him to take the tribute room, so here he still was, staying where he’d always stayed. The night before, after arriving at the Tower and a chaotic first day, he’d fallen asleep easily in Cress’s arms. He’d slept like the dead. Today had been different, though. Waking up as a tribute and going to bed as one made it all feel more final. This wasn’t a nightmare that had begun in today’s waking hours; it was a nightmare that had been sealed by his sleep and asked to be sealed again. Tomorrow he’d begin training, or a continuation of it. He’d see the other tributes with knives and swords – Ezra, who’d promised him a quick death, would be there; Bramble and Nettle, who had not trained for this, hadn’t known they would have to; Mercuria, who had promised him her life; Callisto, Cress’s blood, her sister (was there anything more cruel?).

Slate threw the costume to the ground, kicked it with some reserve of anger he hadn’t known he had, and tossed himself onto the bed. In the moment of the parade, standing on the chariot, he had found some sort of peace or calm that he could only hope he’d be able to muster again in the Arena. But that calm had no room for thoughts or feelings, and here in the room with Cress, those were everywhere. Swirling all around and him, unable to catch any of them to hold them for more than a moment at a time.

Cress lingered at the threshold, observing, trying to understand her place — in this Tower, on this floor, within this room. Tribute spaces didn’t have locks (a measured precaution, she was sure), but the others did, so as she stepped inside, closing the door, she locked it too. It wouldn’t protect them from Peacekeepers, but very little could. The illusion was comfort enough. She kicked off her shoes, tugged the zipper down her side. Cress wished he would stop her, murmur let me from behind, but the dress pooled at her feet unceremoniously. This was not their apartment. This was not their life. From a drawer, she dug out a shirt, his, only in the sense that it had been bought for him. He’d never worn it himself. He probably never would. Everything truly theirs had burned.

The edge of the bed dipped beneath her weight. The mattress shifting as she crawled beside him, settling, reaching, propping her head on a pillow as her fingers traced his ribs. Tomorrow she was due back at her station, back in this world, with the lines drawn clearly: Trainer Cress, with a fresh batch of tributes; Victor Cress, with a familial legacy on the line; Cress Meadowforge, with a reputation to repair or ruin; and Cressida – with him. Only him. She could be that, only that, for tonight. “Where are you?” she asked, searching in the haze, wishing for his thoughts. His eyes were unfocused. Cress could feel him sinking deeper beneath, getting lost in his headspace. “Slate,” fingertips along his skin, “don’t go where I can’t reach.” 

Slate turned his head toward her, focusing his gaze on her after a moment of effort. Was it exhaustion that made it difficult to really look at anyone, anything? “How do I stay within reach?” he asked, a genuine question. But Cress wasn’t sure, did not truly know. Perhaps this was enough – that he was aware of her presence, that they were conversing coherently. He touched the bracelet on his wrist. They’d let him wear it on the chariot – or they hadn’t forced him to take it off, anyway. Maybe they just hadn’t cared. Hestia had been a tribute; Cress had been; and he’d hardly talked with either of them about their time in the Games, or just before it. He knew they’d experienced it but he hadn’t wanted to force them to dig into the memories. Now, though, he found himself entirely unprepared. “I feel like I must be in shock, or something.”

“Must be,” Cress agreed. They’d studied shock in the Academy, in a class called Psychology of a Tribute. She’d been fascinated by it: the chemicals that were released in the brain during the Reaping, the different ways the mind and body reacted in the days leading up to Launch, how these could be predictors for failure or success in an arena. “It will pass,” gentle assurance, as honest as she could give. “Being out of the environment will help; it just takes time to come down.”

Slate nodded, as if he believed that were true. He wanted to ask her what environment she referred to – he felt like his current state of mind had been created by the entirety of his life and his country. What environment could he possibly have left?

Cress wiped soot from beneath his eye as her own drifted, to where he was fidgeting against his wrist. Familiar as she was with his body, this piece was new. Well, not quite. The bracelet was worn, frayed lightly. Certainly not part of his costume. Cress dipped to touch it, “What’s this?”

“Hestia’s,” Slate said. “Her token. Now mine.” It seemed full sentences wouldn’t come when it came to this. The braided leather. “Never thought I’d have one. A token. What do I even do with it? What if it gets fucked up?” It could get wet, or it could fall off, or it could be cut off. Someone could take it. He suddenly felt fearful, responsible for this important thing. 

Cress adjusted, pushing herself up to sit on the bed, feeling the material, assessing its current condition. “You wear it. You let it remind you of home, what you’re fighting for, surviving to get back to.” They hadn’t spoken much of her experience. He’d watched her Games when they first started training, but Cress had never pressed, never offered more than needed. She didn’t want Slate to see her like that, the amalgamation of everything he had once accused her of. “I wore a necklace,” she said, rolling the frayed ends of the leather between her fingers. “My parents made it, selected and set the stones.” Cress hadn’t worn it much since her victory, but she’d started again, after the fire. It had gotten her through one impossible period of her life, perhaps it could propel her through another. 

She dipped beneath her shirt’s collar, pulled the pendant forth, held it between them for him to observe. Her fingers moved blindly over the four stones. The knowledge was rote, a list she’d recited each night: a reminder in the arena that she was still alive. “Black diamond, a shield,” bringing invincibility and beauty to its bearer. “Aquamarine, for clarity and conviction. Pink Tourmaline, to soothe. And Aventurine Green, for luck and wealth.” The gems were set in gold, though Cress had never polished or cleaned it. She needed to, but something held her back, like wiping the dirt, and blood, and tarnish from it would drain its power. Erase her past. 

Slate looked, then reached out his finger to touch it. She tilted her head up so he could better reach. The necklace was small, delicate, but with the stones inlaid, it carried immense power. Power even Slate could feel. He remembered Cress holding the stones from Marble, how they’d brought her comfort in the Hob during the reading. He could feel now, beneath his fingers, that these stones had brought her comfort many times. He could see, too, how it had been well-worn by her own fingers.

“I could have yours looked at,” Cress offered, dropping the pendant, which fell against the hollow of her throat. She took his hand again, focused on his wrist, tracing her thumb across the material. “Leather is extremely porous, so it’s impossible to make it entirely waterproof. But a treatment will largely protect it from moisture. If you want to leave the fraying, we can–” It was likely of sentimental value, if it had been worn by Hestia. “But it needs to be oiled, broadly, so it doesn’t crack, and sealed here at the edges, so it doesn’t unravel further.” It would help, keep it in good condition so that it would see Slate through. The intentional destruction of tokens wasn’t commonplace, though. It was a particular cruelty, an unspoken boundary rarely crossed. And besides, if another tribute was close enough to take it, or if an event was strong enough to ruin it, then you were probably dead as it was. “Would you be open to that? Just a bit of care?” An offering of support, an ounce of love.

Slate bit his lip. Perhaps that would be nice, but this wasn’t his bracelet. It was Hestia’s, and she might not like it being messed with, even if the intent was to better preserve it. That way, when it arrived home on his body, she could remove it and keep it. It would comfort her. “We need to ask Hestia,” he said, “it’s not mine.” Those words – it’s not mine – so common for him to speak. He had so few things, and though Hestia had given him this, he still felt like it didn’t belong to him really. It wasn’t his. He was borrowing it.

Cress hummed softly in disagreement. “It is,” she said, knowing Slate, knowing he would deny it. “We’ll ask Hestia, though I’m confident she’ll defer to you.” He made a slight face, an expression of uncertainty, suggesting that he didn’t agree with her, but he knew she was probably right. Hestia wouldn’t make any demands of her own right now, and if this would make Slate feel better, he was sure she’d give her blessing.

Cress’s fingers trailed up his arm, along the slope of his shoulder and down, to brush the hair from his neck. There, still there, that pink line. Not a figment of her imagination, or a trick of the light. Cress traced the scarring, the skin lightly textured, her fingertips following along the discoloration of his throat until he met her eyes. “Will you talk with me about it?” What you did to yourself. What was done to you. “If you’re willing, I’d like to.”

The skin there was sensitive, still healing, and Slate fought the urge to close his eyes, to refuse to speak about it, as he’d done before. She wanted to know. She had wanted to ask earlier, hadn’t. And he wasn’t willing to talk about it, didn’t want to discuss any of his time in prison, but he knew that he owed her an explanation that would, at the very least, calm any concerns she had. He didn’t want her to think that he’d done this after finding out about the pregnancy. He knew she might think it, with her concern over his willingness and interest to have a child. He knew what this could look like, in the long nights that would follow his death.

“It was after they stopped trying to get information out of me,” he said, “before you came.” His voice was dry, as if he were discussing the events of ancient history. The act of removing his clothes, tying them together with knots as tight as he could, knots she had taught him to make as part of their training. Of jumping up, hanging the noose around the top bar of the gate. Doing all of this in the short moments between the guards passing by. The eye of the panopticon always on him, though, never away. Watching him and his naked body as he scaled the bars and slipped his head through the noose.

She tried to recall how he had appeared during her visit, but the memory was unclear. The details that she could conjure were focused elsewhere: his face, his words, the pallor of his skin. But whether it had been concealed, or she’d had not seen, the fact remained that Slate had navigated that encounter while nursing this, harboring this secret against his skin. Cress shifted, hoping his body would follow without resistance. She wanted his head in her lap, and he complied, closing his eyes and allowing her to touch him, to give him comfort. Her hands over him, fingertips trailing his ribs and his back, or else toying idly with his hair, raking gently against his scalp. In this, Slate would not have to look at her. In this, Cress could continue her questioning. He allowed it, eyes closed, the world quiet except for her words, her impossible questions.

“Why?” But that was a poor question. Overbroad and unfair. He was being tortured, and when they were through, he would be put to death. Why wouldn’t he wish for relief? She rephrased. “What did you think about, when it was happening?” And then, brow furrowed, “were you stopped?” Found? Caught?

He didn’t speak for a moment after she stopped, allowing her last words to hang in the air. And when he did answer the questions, he went backwards. From the end to the beginning. “The knots didn’t hold,” he said. “They did for a bit. But not long enough. Fell on the ground.” Gasping and trying to figure out if this was what death felt like and if so, why it hurt so badly. Cress’ acknowledgement came only through her touch – constant, careful not to startle him away from vulnerability. “Thought about… how I didn’t want them to televise my death.” It was an ironic thing now, but it was true. He hadn’t wanted everyone to see. Cress and Hestia and his siblings and all of his friends. He didn’t want them to watch it happen.

She thought that nothing should touch him harshly, his body a sacred thing harboring an imperfect soul. Then she thought of honor, of the notion of a fitting death, of her world, which was filled with so much duty and its consequence: shame. “Do you wish for death?” Cress asked, searching for common language, for something she could understand. “Enough to exact it at your own hand?”

His eyes opened at that, he adjusted so that he could look at her. “I didn’t,” he replied, honest, working his way through the murky feelings surrounding this. In the prison everything had been harsh, confusing. Here, it was different. There was comfort and warmth and Cress. He didn’t wish for death, not in this moment, not at all. “I don’t want to die, no.” It was honest. He laid his head back again, breaking the eye contact. It was enough to say that; it was true, and better to leave it at that. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to be a tribute. He didn’t want to be a victor, either. He wasn’t sure he’d been left with any choice after all.

“I believe you,” Cress murmured, and though he settled again, his eyes turning away, her gaze remained fixed upon him. “But I would understand if you did.” She brushed across his forehead, fingers skimming down the bridge of his nose. It sent a contented feeling down his spine, despite the subject matter. “I’ve felt that way.” A secret for her lover, who had given one to her first. “The inexorable desire to die, to be dead.”

He moved his hand, tracing slow circles on her thigh, a response or some type of comfort, the touch she had provided him being returned. Cress welcomed it, this tactile reply. He wasn’t surprised. He didn’t see how you could go through something like this and not feel it. The desire to die. To have died. And Cress had been through so much, in the Arena and after. Victorhood, life, neither had been kind to her. “I wish we could live somewhere else,” he said quietly, a response, an offer of a comforting thought, because there was nothing else appropriate. I’m sorry. That wasn’t right. “You and me. We deserve to live somewhere else. That’s what I want. I don’t want to die, I want to live, but not… like this.”

“Mmm,” she smiled, but it wasn’t a joyous, elated grin. Rather something tired, the expression of relief in being permitted to give in. He would not judge her for it, for her past and present exhaustion. Cress trusted Slate unconditionally. “That’s what I want too,” her fingers slipped down his nose again, the dozenth time down this well-worn path, but they did not slide up again. Instead, she continued, over the slope and tip of his nose, finding his mouth: ghosting over it, tracing his Cupid’s bow, smoothing out along the soft plane of his lower lip. She loved his mouth. Loved the words that came from it. Loved their presence over her pulse, her flesh, dipping down to meet her, to consume her, to set her free. And here they were, spinning a beautiful mirage, a place to rest upon the long journey. “I’d like to live somewhere else with you.”

Another time, maybe. A different place. A separate life from this one, where they would be permitted their soft landing, their happy family. They both envisioned it, silent, allowing it to blossom in their separate minds, the details perhaps differing but both of them containing the same core, essential peace.

“This will pass,” Cress murmured, fingers splaying over his cheek. “That’s what I told myself.” Even when it felt impossible to believe, it kept her breathing. “I couldn’t stop it from happening, and we can’t stop this, but you can survive it. You can come back to me.” It would change him. He would always carry this weight. But it had changed Cress too — her arena, what came after — and Slate still found her, still loved her despite the anger, and the sadness, and the panic. They had learned to live with it, to navigate it in their dynamic. To hold space for the shrapnel that remained.

Slate allowed himself to be swept away by her words, the idea that he could come back to her, her faith in him and her hope. Training would begin tomorrow and time would continue to wash over him. He couldn’t stop it or slow it. But he could be here now, with her hope and her love, and allow himself to be still. “I love you,” he said quietly, a request to end this conversation, to speak no more about death for now if they could help it, to just be here, still, happy – for now, for as long as they could.

[phoenixyfriend]

In Which Palpatine Leaves the Door Open

So, @purronronner suggested this on discord:

au where anakin finds out about palpatine during clone wars era like, coming in for a visit and overhears a conversation with Dooku about war planning he’s been pulled between palpatine and the Jedi/obi-wan/various things but I want to see him pulled between palpatine and his men could go either way on the sith part of the reveal even

palpatine is not aware! unless anakin’s course of action is to go “hey palpatine I must have misunderstood something right? :(“

(This was a group effort but there's a thing I wrote that requires this context so please bear with me.)

I'm just imagining Anakin backing out, closing the door, and turning to the Corrie Guard by the door to say a thing... and not finding words.

Eventually "Did you guys know he was evil?" "He's a politician, sir." "But like the evil ranting..." "He's a politician. Sir."

He's willing to use his men to save R2, but that's because R2 was part of the team and helping, not arranging battles to make things worse.

Anakin: Normally, I'd go to Palpatine to talk about my problems, but right now he is the problem... Obi-Wan and Yoda are off-planet.... Anakin, phoning up Padme: Help?

Per @atagotiak we also have some Intense Thoughts

Oh hey. The deception arc. And the subsequent argument that we don't see and stuff. Like there's all the ways you could justify it especially from an opsec standpoint (If Anakin acts like that around Padme why would anyone assume he can keep a secret about anything?) And it was a pretty tactically important thing for the war as far as anyone knew. But just. I've heard some people say that perhaps also Obi-Wan reasoned that hurting Anakin is an ok price to pay to make sure someone Anakin cares for doesn't die for real which seems plausible enough.

Anyways. My point is. Anakin gets a front row seat to sheevception when he actually sorta knows whats going on. Gets sidetracked halfway through yelling and stuff to think about how convoluted this whole mess is.

For more clone-centric things all the times Palpatine's like "I wish I could do more, it's truly regrettable, but..." Would just seem awfully fake now.

Anakin, belatedly: Wait, does this mean that, behind all the layers of bullshit, Palpatine was the one trying to kill Padme at the start of the war???

WHICH IS WHAT LEADS TO A WHOLE LOT OF FUN and yes this is the part I'm sort of proud of.

Okay so: Anakin's a shit liar, yes?

After he meanders over to Padme and has a breakdown, he then goes off to tell the Council about all this. I imagine she goes with him as moral support, and also because she wants to protect him from them calling him out on his legitimately terrible decisions. They're trying to come up with a plan to take Palpatine down without tipping their hands too early, because they need to investigate; for the sake of this plot point, we'll say that Palpatine mentioned a contingency plan while talking to Dooku, even if he didn't directly name the chips.

Someone mentions that Palpatine is going to ask to see Anakin, because he does regularly. And, as experience has shown, there is very little that will stop Palpatine from insisting that Anakin come see him. They can stall for a bit, maybe, but not for long.

"You could send me to the other side of the galaxy," Anakin suggests. "Short notice, so sorry, won't be around for a bit."

They point out that won't work forever.

"So... arrest me, or put me on a mental health hold?" Anakin tries. "Say I got violent at civilians or the clones for no reason and you need to make sure I won't hurt him, and then even if he visits me in the cell, I don't have to act normal 'cause he'll EXPECT me to be upset."

Palpatine presumably has spies all over, so he'd know that hadn't actually happened. Also, Anakin's too important to the war effort for anything short of a cold-blooded murder of an innocent, and they can't just take him off the field without an absolutely massive violation of the Code or his orders.

"Tell him I Fell," Anakin offers.

A Sith Lord would be able to feel that from across the galaxy, if it had happened, especially with the amount of time that he's put into grooming Anakin.

"Oh," Anakin says, and his stomach drops out as he realizes that he can either keep his secrets, or keep people alive.

He thinks about how Palpatine had targeted Padme already, and how if Palpatine thinks Anakin's betrayed him, then he'll probably do that again.

He thinks about 'a Sith Lord would know' and realizes... well.

Anakin values his freedom, but he also values his men, his padawan, his master, his wife... the wife that's in danger if Palpatine knows that Anakin caught him out.

The Order has to keep Anakin away from Palpatine. They need an excuse to arrest him. They need an excuse to hide him away, one that Palpatine won't question too hard.

A Sith Lord would know if Anakin fell. Even if he came back afterwards.

"So... so tell him you found out about the Tusken Massacre."

The what.

"...tell him you found out about the time I actually did Fall," Anakin says, squeezing Padme's hand. She knows. She's the only one who knows, on Coruscant, other than the Sith they're hunting. "On... on Tatooine. You can claim it was an anonymous tip. He already knows about that one. He's one of the only two people outside Tatooine that do. He might not question it."

(He won't question it.)

What did you do, Skywalker.

"I killed... a lot of people. A Tusken tribe. Including the children. Right before the war hit."

----

It's a hell of a way to fall on his figurative sword.

(Mace is... both impressed that Anakin would take the hit to make sure they can handle the Palpatine problem, and horrified about the Massacre, because... who wouldn't be.)

(Mace is unfortunately Anakin's main handler on this project.)

Anakin puts in so much effort, all the time, into not Falling, so it’s surprisingly (terrifyingly!) easy for him to fake a 'near miss' with the Dark just by thinking really hard about things that make him angry. Nobody wants him actually Falling for the ploy if they can help it, but they need to sell the bit, and Anakin's... well. He's Anakin. It's easy to think about his own emotional volatility until any control goes out the window.

He's sacrificing a lot for this mission! It's fine! He's fine!

(Padme, the council is judging you so hard right now.)

Palpatine comes to visit Anakin in prison, and it is very easy for Anakin to disguise his anger as... a different anger. I have a very intense mental image of Anakin working himself up into a frenzy when Palpatine comes to visit, and then at some point in the following conversation he just snaps something about how "you said they were animals who deserved to die."

The Council can even eke it out a bit, make it so they don't want to admit why Anakin's in prison or under a psychiatric hold or whatever they claim it is, so their "I'm hiding something vibes" look like "I'm hiding the fact that one of our most recognizable war heroes just came clean as a mass murderer and we have no idea how to handle it" instead of "I'm hiding that we know you're a Sith Lord and are working to take you down."

Obi-Wan comes back from an off-world mission to find out that Mace arrested his former padawan and Ahsoka hasn't stopped crying for three days because nobody will tell her what's going on.

(The Council decided this couldn't be risked on even an encrypted comm.)

(They maybe tell him soon enough? But also they might treat it like the Hardeen thing and use his reaction as fuel to keep Palpatine convinced.)

SKYGUY GOT ARRESTED AND NOBODY'S EXPLAINING WHY.

Rex is overwhelmed because it's been his job to keep her calm.

Anyway, padawanship has been temporarily transferred to the grandmaster. You were half-training her anyway.

Insert a subplot about Obi-Wan being horrified and betrayed and aiming the feeling at Padme because she knew about the Tuskens and never told.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt.4

Summary: In his attempt to get to know his wife, the Darkling realizes he might be getting too close.

Warnings: angst, swearing, sexual innuendoes, slightest bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three   

=================================

Y/N couldn’t sleep that night. Not only did she agonize over the slightest possibility of his words being true, but the lingering of his lips on hers even hours after they’ve left tormented her mind. Instead of sleeping, she sat outside in the darkness with nothing but stars to keep her company. She shuddered with the cold wind as it chilled her, even the kefta didn’t protect her as well as she thought it would.

Sighing, she smiled up at the night sky, watching the stars in their celestial dance. It’s undeniable, she’s envious of them – their freedom is undisputed, their beauty unmatched by anything earthly. No one can force a star to marriage, no one can dull its brightness.

“Are you alright?” Genya spoke up, startling Y/N into a loud gasp.

Turning around, Y/N giggles in slight panic, a hand resting on her chest. “You scared me!”

“I didn’t mean to”, she chuckles too, coming closer to Y/N who let out a relieved sigh, only to look up once again.

“I couldn’t sleep”, she explains, “So I came here to watch the stars.”

“Most people are afraid of the dark”, Genya raised an eyebrow as she fixed her gaze on Y/N instead. She studied her carefully, unsure if she should invest all her hopes and dreams in her – no matter how striking she is.

“Oh, I’m scared of the dark!” Y/N exclaims, pointing up at the sky, “But the night sky is littered with lanterns, meant to guide you home. My mom always told me to look up whenever I feel lost, because the stars will help me find answers to any worry.”

Pursing her lips, Genya frowned, “Does that mean you doubt your plan?”

“No”, Y/N replied with haste, “I am simply trying to understand some of the chess pieces I thought I had figured out.”

Looking back at the Palace, Y/N’s eyes found the window of her room in an instant. A dark figure passed by it, the candlelight revealing the figure is pacing.

“He’s not a bad man, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Holding her breath, Y/N’s eyes find amber ones, “That’s not what I’ve heard. His deeds have spoken plenty about the strength of his character.”

“He’s fighting a war, not just with the outsiders, not just your father, but those on our side as well.” Pausing, Genya steps before her, “Do you know what they call him?”

“The Darkling”, she states, “A starless saint, a demon, a shadow king.”

“So many of those names are meant to demonize him, to shun him from society simply for the power he was born with”, licking her lips, Genya reaches for Y/N’s hand. “His own people are dying simply for who they’re born as – humans, Shu, Druskelle, they’re all sharpening their swords. If he’s not feared, we’re all dead.”

Nibbling on her lower lip, Y/N closed her eyes. Exhaling, she faced Genya once more.

“Does that mean I should applaud him for the way he’s treated the First army so far? How can you defend him when he’s the one who brought you here…to the emperor?”

Retracting her hand, Genya flashed a smile – one too strained to be believable. “He tried to defend me and got himself punished for it. So I’m here and I’m telling you to give him a chance.” Walking past Y/N, Genya stops just a few paces behind her, “He might surprise you.”

All the things Genya said became faint echoes inside Y/N’s head. When she returned to the room, she was ready for a new quarrel with Kirigan. Despite her readiness, he was sound asleep as she slipped her kefta off. With trembling fingers, she lifted the comforter only to stifle a laugh upon a surprising sight. Not only had there been a pillow to separate them, but three to ensure she wouldn’t accidentally roll on his side during the night. Perhaps she did smother him the night before and for once, she didn’t feel ashamed, rather satisfied. If he’s so insistent on sharing a bed, why would she make it any easier on him?

Tossing the pillows aside, she slid onto his side. Pressing her lips in a thin line, she tried to wrap an arm around his middle, but she couldn’t do it with her heart clenching wildly inside her chest. She drew back, forming tight fists at her side as she glared up at the canopy in frustration. If she’s going to play well and win, she’ll have to swallow her pride and withstand some discomfort.

Staring daggers at the back of his head, Y/N held her breath as she half climbed atop of Kirigan. Waiting to see if he’ll wake, Y/N finally released a shuddered breath. Burying her nose in the crook of his neck, she finally felt herself warm up after being outside for so long.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled his scent – woodsy and clean as if he had just had a bath. She never realized it before, but he smelled the same way on their wedding day…and night. But also earlier when he was pressed against her, devouring her mouth. Just the thought of his arms around her, his tall frame against her and the feverish kiss they’ve shared had caused her heartbeat to quicken with no shame.

And while she drifted off, she failed to realize something else – the Darkling was very much awake.

Instead of moving away when he felt a weight atop of him, he struggled to even his breathing. She smelled like spring, like lilacs and oddly enough, he enjoyed it. Most times, he’d crinkle his nose in disgust for strong, flowery scents made him nauseous, but she didn’t have the heavy, unbearably thick air of perfume cling to her – it felt like it’s her natural scent.

Smiling, the Darkling allowed himself to relax once her breathing calmed down and while her hands and feet felt like icicles, her cold nose brought most of the discomfort. Once she warmed up, by stealing his body heat, the Darkling began to drift away too. After all, he was winning.

A single ray of sunshine came through the window, its heat tickling Y/N’s nose. Sleepily, she brushed at it then tried to turn away, but something blocked her way. She lazily opened her eyes and saw the strange bed canopy overhead. When she remembered where she was and how she fell asleep last night, she felt her face grow hot as blood rushed to her cheeks. Even her body seemed to blush. She moved her head toward the other side of the bed and looked at where her husband’s supposed to be, yet he was gone – only the pillows she could have sworn she removed remained.

There was no way of knowing it, but each morning, the Darkling opened his eyes and looked at her first. No matter if she was drooling or her hair matted on her face, he quite enjoyed his view. She seemed gentle, almost like a saint sent to remind him light can exist along with darkness he’s been shrouded in.

Disgruntled, she sat up and huffed. She wanted to wake up at the same time as he did. One, she wanted to see his reaction and laugh, two, she really wanted to discuss the kiss from before. Then again, she just wanted to see the general at his most vulnerable state – waking up disheveled, just like any human would. His perfectly styled hair unnerved her and she couldn’t help but wonder if Genya used her power on it because she had never once seen a hair out of place, not even after their kiss.

For the rest of the day, Y/N tried to catch him alone. Unfortunately, she barely saw her husband at all. A fleeting glance of acknowledgement was all she received as they passed each other in the hall, both surrounded by others.

At night, she laid awake in hopes of speaking to him before bed. The faint candlelight on the bedside table kept the darkness away, relieving her fear. Would he laugh at her if she admitted to it? After all, isn’t he the one who can create darkness out of thin air? Perhaps he’d shroud her with it and prove he truly is cruel, but she had no way of being sure. He must never know of it and she truly hoped never to see his display of power.

Lost in her thoughts, she blinked and it was morning.

Wide eyed, she sat up and looked to his side. It was unmade, the pillow dented right where his head was and yet she can’t remember hearing him arrive in the night or leave in the morning. She never does.

“Fuck”, she mutters under her breath as she slams a fist in his pillow. Grunting, she buries her face into it, muffling her frustrated scream.

“Are you done?” Genya frowned at her, waiting by the door while Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs into a pillow.

“YOU’VE GOT TO STOP SNEAKING UP ON ME!”

Scoffing, Genya rolled her eyes. “You need to be more perceptive about your surroundings.”

A knock on the door had startled them both, enough for them to both let out a strangled scream. The door opened before either of them gave the permission and once they realized who it was that entered, they didn’t need a reason as to why.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The Darkling grinned at his wife who narrowed her eyes at him immediately.

“Your voice gives me a headache”, Y/N complains.

Squinting at her, the Darkling wondered if a woman could be so infuriating without wielding some mystic power to make her so.

“I believe you agreed to ride with me.”

“Oh”, Genya smirks, “She’ll ride you –“, covering her mouth, Genya giggles as she sees Y/N’s glare is on her, “I meant, with you.”

“I’ve prepared the horses”, he waited for her to respond, to give him reason to dislike her yet she didn’t.

“I will keep my word”, Y/N stood with her formidable gaze on his. She dared not look at his lips for they brought memories and self-loathing she’d rather avoid. After all, what kind of a woman quivers for her enemies touch?

“Wonderful”, he smirks, “I’ll wait for you to dress.”

Remaining in his spot, his hands at his sides, Kirigan raised his eyebrows as both women stared at him.

“Get out”, Y/N waves him off and he clicks his tongue.

“You may not let me touch you, but I can look.”

Angry, she narrowed her eyes at him, “That didn’t stop you from pinning me to a door.”

Genya’s eyes widen, pressing her lips to stop herself from commenting on their little exchange.

Shrugging, he stepped closer. His eyes raked over her body, the nightgown leaving little to imagination. “You didn’t seem to protest”, he leans in, “Especially since you proved you could easily escape me.”

Swallowing thickly, she exhaled through her nose. She couldn’t argue with that, now could she? If she wished, she could have forced him to unhand her. She could have fought him, but she didn’t. She may have been startled when he kissed her but she barely tried to push him away and still, when she had the option to back away, she was the one leaning in for a kiss when he lifted her onto the table. He played a game with her and she lost that day and now he gets to be smug about it.

“As your husband, I promise to protect you from all others. If anyone harms you, they’ll part with their life. For that alone, I deserve an occasional view.”

Winking, he takes a step back and sends a smile in Genya’s direction before turning on his heel and walking out.

“YOU KISSED HIM?!”

Groaning, Y/N throws her head back, “Sort of. It’s more like he kissed me and I didn’t fight him on it.”

“So, does this mean you like him?” Wiggling her eyebrows, Genya squealed in excitement. “Are you bringing him on this plan of yours?”

Holding out her hand, Y/N shook her head, “No, no and no. I don’t trust him one bit and he isn’t exactly a man who’d go along with it.” Exhaling loudly, Y/N decided, “He must be removed along with the emperor.”

When she walked outside, Y/N breath was caught in her throat. The sight of the general on a horse truly felt like a fabrication. Never had she seen a man as majestic as him, as proud and aggravatingly cocky all at once. With his black kefta and the cape, he rode on a black stallion as if he were a mere extension of his will.

She wasted no more time in mounting her white mare, chasing after the Darkling who seemed to only then notice he’s not alone.

Her horse was not above average size, but she was alert and slender-limbed. Her muscles and good nature allowed Y/N to keep up a fairly good pace, never too far behind the black stallion her husband rode. The stallion was clearly riled up, competitive by nature. Anyone else on its back would be a great danger for the rider, but he clearly trusted Kirigan.

The wind blew her hair back and the cold was rather unforgiving on her skin. Passing him narrowly once they entered the woods, she didn’t look back. Instead, she gripped the reigns tighter and continued to breathe as the cold air made her mouth dry and throat scratchy.

Feeling his gaze on her, she relents, looking back at him.

“Where’s your coat?!” He shouted after her and only then did she realize it must have fallen off. Genya made it pretty for a romantic ride, not quite as practical for a race. But that’s not what truly made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. The hint of worry laced in the words of an angry general is what betrayed him and she couldn’t help but wonder – what if it’s more than just lust for him?

“It was slowing me down”, she couldn’t suppress a victorious smile just as he couldn’t suppress an annoyed grunt. Yet they both slowed down, neither of them speaking as they turned around and headed straight to the palace.

“You’re an avid rider.” The general conceded as he dismounted. Before she could blink, he was beside her, his hands on her hips as he pulled her of the horse and effectively stole her breath away.

The rosy colored cheeks left him defenseless as he stared at her too, a little too intently for it to be innocent. Taking her hands in his, he brought them up to his mouth, blowing at them. She kept her gaze at him, undoubtedly in shock as her cold hands started to tingle with the warmth of his breath.

“I’ll have to leave for a few days”, he speaks before she has a chance. “You’ll have the bed all to yourself.”

“Don’t I have to come? If it concerns my peo –“, she began, but he silenced her.

“It’s got nothing to do with the army. I’m merely doing an errand for the emperor.”

Looking at her hands still in his, she pursed her lips. “Doesn’t he have enough servants to do his bidding?”

A breathless chuckle escapes him, “Why? Will you miss me?”

Rolling her eyes, she snorts, “Why? Do you fancy yourself as someone of importance?”

He looked at her like she's the Sun, angrily squinting at every second she spent in his presence. He never looked at her other than in frustration. At least she thought so. It’s how he looked at her a month ago when they first met on a field stained with Druskelle blood. He stood there, alone and victorious as she stepped over the bodies after arriving on this side of the fold with a Sandskiff.

All of their conversations were arguments – she’d narrow her eyes and he’s squint at her, throwing jabs at each other every chance they get, but this felt different. Something changed after the wedding and she wasn’t entirely sure what.

Achingly aware of their closeness, she couldn’t help but ask. "What is this between us?"

Pausing, he looked at her with wonder. If he could put it to words, it wouldn’t make any sense. His mind could hardly fathom what exactly she meant to him other than being a nuisance, but he didn’t exactly hate her as he believed at first when he admittedly hoped she’d find herself eaten by Volcra while crossing the Shadow fold. What he hated was not having a choice. He hated how arrogant she is and how little respect she has for her superiors. He especially hated her mortality, her species and all the atrocities they’ve committed against him and his kind.

He didn’t love her, that he was sure of. He couldn’t possibly care for her either. Lust, winning this game, feeding his ego by having Zlatan’s daughter at his feet is what he longed for. So no, he didn’t love her, but a part of him feared he might love her in time. For the first time in a very, very long time, the Darkling had a fear and it carried her name.

Perhaps that’s why he reacted the way he did when she asked him if there is something between them.

"Nothing." He grabbed the back of her neck, his lips pressing against hers hard.

He was right, she realized. There was nothing between them, nothing between their lips, not even air.

Pulling away, he smirks as she inhales sharply.

"Did you feel a connection?" He looks her in the eye, his lips set in a firm line.

"Yes", she whispers shakily.

His eyes harden as an ache in his chest reminds him of his fear. Someone like him must give up anything he could possibly love for the loss and disappointment are inevitable. She’s mortal, an enemy behind his borders he can never trust. So he will shut his heart out. Love is not an option for the Darkling, he reminds himself. The last time he allowed himself to love was also the day his heart turned to stone. So, he will not love her and she will not love him. He will destroy that possibility, cut any ties that bind them. Lust is the only thing he will let fester.

Leaning in, his lips brush hers softly as he whispers against them, "That's why you're a fool." Stepping back, he heard her gulp. “The connection you feel is lust, that’s all we have and it’s all we will ever have. Accept it.”

“Is that true or are you just afraid?!” Her voice wavers and she instinctively steps toward him, asserting dominance she felt was lost.

“General”, Ivan calls out, just in case Kirigan needed an excuse to leave.

“Afraid?” The Darkling chuckles dryly, averting his gaze to Ivan who waited for him at the entrance. “I’m not afraid of anything”, he remarks as his eyes lock on her lips again, “Certainly not of my wife.”

As he stepped back, the Darkling caught the strangest look in her eyes. It looked like clarity, total and complete sobriety from the ecstasy his presence gave her. She stood proud, despite the self-loathing in her previously warm eyes that slowly turned them back to the ice she held when she first laid her eyes on him.

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Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart​

Part 5  

[bloodycassian]

A FEAST - Azriel x readder. Prompt - Reader is injured and knocked out for days. Cassian gets him to finally leave your side for one meal and Nyx brings a guest with him...

"The Dragons Song is the best one, hands down." Nesta argued, hacking through the brush.  "That one is full of the same scenes every time." You judged, pushing a branch out of the way. The jungle was a mess of twists and turns to work through, but thankfully one of the fishermen on the dock had sold you a compass at a descent price. "A little more right for a few more miles and we'll be there." You steered her on course.  "At least it dosent say 'honeydew' every scene." She made a fake gagging noise and you laughed. The sound was muffled in the crowded forest. She hacked her way through the brush, one vine at a time. Until you finally reached the clearing. It was hot in the direct sun, a few degrees different than what the shade of the forest had been. You paced the perimiter, meeting her at the other side. "You mean Cassian dosen't like honeydew?" You wiggled your eyebrows at her.  "Az does?" She challenged, earning a laugh from you. "The ones that you like are predictable beyond measure." You countered, earning a quick smile before your attention snapped across the meadow. To a giant hog serpent with venomous tusks that gleamed with their clear liquid. You swore and you and Nesta both drew swords at the same time.  + Nesta ended the hog, but not before it had the chance for those razor sharp tusks to marr your legs with deep wounds. The venom stung, flowing into your bloodstream and paralyzing you slowly. You gasped at the sheer blinding pain it brought. "Nes-" You choked out between sobs. "Tell Az... Tell Az I love him." You smiled to her, putting a hand on her cheek. "No, no way. You're gonna tell him yourself. Stay awake. We're on the way." She reached deep to that bond to Cassian, and a flare of alertness greeted her. Then, a thrill of fire. "On the way. Rhys will be there in a few. Are you okay?" "Fine, she's delirious. She needs a healer and a detox for the venom." She thought back, sighing when she felt Rhys' presence. "Wheres Az?" You managed out of your chattering teeth. You were losing the fight against the venom quickly. It would have you under in a few minutes if Rhys didn't hurry to a healer. He placed a hand on you and darkness surrounded.  "Cassian will-" He started to Nesta, "I know, get her safe." She rushed, urging him to winnow you already. When Cassian saw the amount of blood spilled, he cursed.  "Most of it was the beast." Nesta cleaned her sword on an overgrown leaf that jutted down into the meadow.  Her hands shook when she sheathed it. "Nes." He stopped her when she turned. "Nes..." He repeated, giving her a long look. She tried to hide her face, the terror there. "Lets go." He pulled her to his side and took off, holding her close to him. He said nothing about the tears that flowed to his shoulder. He just gripped her tighter.   + Azriel had nearly broken the door when he stormed in. And he hadn't left your side since. Nesta stayed when she could, letting Azriel relax enough to sleep now and again. He trusted her to wake him if anything changed in your status.  When he woke, he heard his brother's voice first. Quiet an hurried in tone, him and Nesta argued by the door. "He wont leave. You've already tried, just leave him alone." Nesta was scolding. Cassian gripped her hands, then whipped his head over to his brother when he saw him stretching on the bench.  "Hey Az-" Cassian smiled, bounding over to his brother like a puppy. "You remmeber Madja saying it may take up to a week, right? How about you come to dinner up at the house with us."  "I dont want to miss if she-" "Come on, Nyx will be there. Mor's coming back from the continent tonight too." Cassian tempted, poking at the old flame Azriel carried for the female. She was still incredible, and one of Azriels best friends, but he no longer felt that flame towards her. You had come along and crushed it with a bat of your eyelashes and a few quick witted insults at Cas. Nesta started pulling him away, giving you an apologetic smile. "It would be nice for you to be there is all he means." She began pushing him out the door, despite his protests.  "Think about it! She wouldn't want you to be mourning while she's alive!" Cassian shouted, earning a smack from Nesta. Azriel smiled despite the dark nature of the situation. He pulled a chair up beside your resting body. It had been three days. How would he know if you were awake or not? He tugged on that dark link you shared together, and came up with the same unresponsiveness as before. He sighed, but took your hand anyway, falling asleep again to the sound of your soft breathing. + He decided to stay for just an hour. He would spare his family that much. He kissed you goodbye and tried his best to ignore the guilt he felt for leaving you behind. But Cassian was right. He knew that when you woke up you'd be upset about him not going. So he put on his brave face and flew up to the house of wind, to the joy of everyone. They clapped upon his arrival, making his cheeks burn. Mor gave him a hug and promised to catch up. But she hovered around a fae you hadn't met yet. A female that she watched with wide sparkling eyes. Azriel's chest bloomed with pride at the sight of them being so close, so full of life for each other.  He looked away from the two, and sent his shadows out to Rhys. And found what he was seeking. He darted over to the end of the table where the high lord and lady sat across from each other. The head table was empty, and filthy. "That's a small monster if I've ever seen one." He bent and scooped Nyx up from under the table. He wriggled and laughed.  "No monster Azzy." Nyx babbled, pulling on his uncle's hair.  "No pulling hair!" Rhys scolded, making Nyx laugh even more. Feyre sighed. "You're just having fun. How about we go for a fly down to-" "Don't say it, Az." Rhy's tone went from scolding to pleading. Even though the baby couldn't fly yet, it was one of his favorite things to do. He could see how Rhys' son would be skilled at flying with just the way he angled his head when accompanying. Az poked at Nyx's belly and they fought like that for a few moments, Nyx eventually winnowing away with the joy only a child could have.  Azriel froze, looking to the high lord and lady for comfort. Having a baby disappear in your arms was strange, even for Fae babies. "When'd he start doing that?" "Four days ago." Feyre sighed. She looked utterly exhausted. "We've been having to take turns staying up with him." Rhys held her hand across the table, they shared a sweet look together then they both whipped their heads to Nyx in unison. "Dont-" Feyre warned, giving her son a stern look as he pulled at the tablecloth. Amren gave the boy a look of discouragement as well when he looked around for someone to be laughing with him. He stopped after those silver eyes met his.  Nesta gave Az a smile from across the room where she and Cassian welcomed the toddoling boy. "Let's start training, Nyxie. Come on, show me what you got." Cassian got on his knees to the floor and the two began wrestling together. Azriel took a seat beside Rhys, picking at the crackers and cheese platter before him.  "When were we planning on going back to the Island?" Rhys asked, voice low. Cassian rolled with Nyx on the ground, making Nesta laugh when the boy pulled at Cas' hair. "I'm not going until my mate is healed. Maybe you should send them, see how much trouble they can get in."  Az asked, trying to keep the hinting out of his voice. He wanted to go take care of it on his own. The mission on the Island was not complete and he didn't want to risk anyone again. He'd rather do it and make sure it was a finished job. He couldn't bare to see you be hurt over a fellow Valkyrie getting hurt either. "You know they would kill each other.... or themselves trying to protect the other." Feyre smiled despite herself. She knew it was the truth. Her sister being happy for once was a joy like no other.  "Mom and Dad need to eat, Az you too." Cassian ordered. He bounced the boy on his legs, making him pretend fly. Azriel picked at the plate that appeared before him. The warm meat and stew looked incredible, but he couldn't bring himself to eat. The guilt was the only thing that weighed in his stomach. "I should go check on-" He began to say, folding his napkin back on the table. "How is she?" Cassian interrupted from the floor. Nesta was playing with Nyx now, rattling a toy around for him. Azriel kept his calm mask on, trying to fight the urge to check on you. The black haired boy looked to her with upset eyes. "Auntie?" He said, voice a bit whiny.  "Auntie is napping, she'll be back in a little while." Nes assured. Azriel's heart squeezed at the love Nyx showed. Then, the boy was gone.  The parents were digging into their plates. It was likely the only meal they'd shared together in the four days of taking turns watching Nyx. "Rhys-" Az began, terror sweeping his gut. Nyx was no where in sight. Nesta and Cassian both shot to their feet when they didn't spot him.  Then, the plates in front of Azriel clattered and shot food everywhere. Mor and her date yelped and fled their chairs, mor pushing the other female behind her. Azriel's shadows coiled, siphons glared ready to fight.  And Rhys didnt move as he observed the waking fae before him. The tug on Azriel's bond went taut. "Auntie here!" Nyx celebrated, patting your chest. You groaned and cracked open your eyes to see Azriel's shadows swirling about you. "Are you okay?!" Azriel gripped your shoulders,  his warm hands seeping into your thin shirt. The sweats you wore were now stained with whatever food had been on the table. Rhys put down his fork slowly. "I wasn't expecting to be this kind of snack Az..." You said softly. Rhy's cheeks went red. Mor laughed first, her date looked to her with bewilderment and worry. Cassian rushed over and picked Nyx up from your stomach. "I think there's a fork in my back." You said, voice gruff.  A hysterical laugh bubbled from Azriel, then the rest of them were cracking up. "Nyx... Thanks." Azriel breathed, and the boy began clapping.  + Once you were back on your feet and Madja had given you the go ahead to take it easy, you asked Azriel to go on a walk with you. The stretch of your legs was sore, but the good kind of sore that left you feeling better and better with each step. The cool wind from the Sidra whipped around you. He wrapped a wing around both of you as you reached the apex of a bridge.  "I owe that baby everything." He laughed, squeezing your hand tighter. The city was quiet, only soft music coming from the Rainbow and the calm trickle of the Sidra sounding out. "Nyx the Valkyrie deliverer."  You laughed together, leaning against the railing on the bridge. The streetlights above cast a wonderful color over you, illuminating you both in a silvery shade that matched the moonlight. "I love you." You said, resting your head against his shoulder. It had been a long night, and who knew how long of sleeping... but you were tired.  "Love you." He nudged you away so he could hook his finger under your chin and angle you up to kiss him. You wrapped your arms around him and compiled, letting the bond hum through you like a song.

[myopinionhi]

A Will Solace Character Analysis: the Underappreciated Soft Side

I've noticed many fanfictions have Will Solace OOC. So I’ve been thinking about aspects of Will’s personality fans seem to either gloss over or exaggerate. Here, this post is me doing an in-depth analysis explaining Will Solace’s canon personality in the books, and how it can sometimes differ from fanfictions. Sprinkled in this analysis are tips to fanfiction writers on how they write Will as more in-character.

There is one major aspect of Will that people seem to ignore or underemphasize. Nico best explains it when describing Will in this quote

Jason was a fighter. You could tell from the intensity of his stare, his constant alertness, the coiled-up energy in his frame. Will Solace was more like a lanky cat stretched out in sunshine. His movements were relaxed and nonthreatening, his gaze soft and far away. In his faded SURF BARBADOS T-shirt, his cutoff shorts and flip-flops, he looked about as aggressive as a demigod could get, but Nico knew he was brave under fire. During the Battle of Manhattan, Nico had seen him in action - the camp's best combat medic, risking his life to save wounded campers.

To sum it up, Will Solace is a very chill and calm character. A lot of writers make Will more irrational, impulsive, overbearing, and emotional than he actually is. Will is not the type of character to create drama unless he's, as Nico puts it, "under fire." In other words, the intense side of his personality doesn't come out unless the situation is urgent or dire.

Fans remember during the Second Giant War how he gets angry and argues with Nico over Nico's health and shadow-traveling, so many assume Will is going to be this fiery over a lot of other things regarding their relationship. For example, fanfic writers may make Will controlling or overly sensitive with Nico. However, keep in mind, Will gets heated with Nico during the Second Giant War because Nico's shadow-traveling is killing him. This is how Will describes Nico's dire state.

"Coach Hedge told me all about your shadow-travel. You can’t try that again."

"I just did try it again, Solace. I’m fine."

"No, you’re not. I’m a healer. I could feel the darkness in your hand as soon as I touched it. Even if you made it to that tent, you’d be in no shape to fight. But you wouldn’t make it. One more slip, and you won’t come back. You are not shadow-travelling. Doctor’s orders."

Will is a healer. When he touches Nico's hand, he can sense how little sleep and food Nico has been getting and how Nico's being taken over by darkness. Nico is on the verge of death and hasn't cared about his health for a long time. Nico is also stubborn about it, so Will has to be aggressive in order to save Nico's life. This aggressive behavior is not the norm for Will, but it can sometimes come out when he has to assert control in a life-or-death situation.

Will is a calming prescence. He's a diplomat. He stops violence on multiple occassions.

He's one of the few people who's able to calm Clarisse's violent rage, and he does so in a gentle manner.

Clarisse pointed her dagger at Rachel. "What about their allies, huh? Did you see that tribe of two-headed men that arrived yesterday? Or the glowing red dog-headed guys with the big poleaxes? They look pretty barbaric to me. It would’ve been nice if you’d foreseen any of that, if your Oracle power didn’t break down when we needed it most!"

Rachel’s face turned as red as her hair. "That’s hardly my fault. Something is wrong with Apollo’s gifts of prophecy. If I knew how to fix it –"

"She’s right." Will Solace, head counsellor for the Apollo cabin, put his hand gently on Clarisse’s wrist. Not many campers could’ve done that without getting stabbed, but Will had a way of defusing people’s anger. He got her to lower her dagger. "Everyone in our cabin has been affected. It’s not just Rachel."

One of the most underrated Will Solace moments is when he stops a bloody battle from happening between Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter.  

But he knew it wouldn’t do any good. After weeks of waiting, agonizing and steaming, the Greeks and Romans wanted blood. Trying to stop the battle now would be like trying to push back a flood after the dam broke.

Will Solace saved the day.

He put his fingers in his mouth and did a taxicab whistle even more horrible than the last. Several Greeks dropped their swords. A ripple went through the Roman line like the entire First Cohort was shuddering.

"DON’T BE STUPID!" Will yelled. "LOOK!"

People are so used to seeing demigods, especially male demigods, being aggressive fighters that they can't wrap their heads around a brave and strong demigod who actively tries to avoid unnecessary conflict and destruction as much as he can.

And that's Will Solace's strength: he has the ability to prevent as much harm as possible.

Will is a difficult character to write. There's a lot of dueling factors with his personality. He's calm and pacifying while also being brave and assertive. He's fun and lighthearted while also being intelligent, logical, and grounded. He's laidback while also being responsible and hardworking. He's insecure but not melodramatic. He's very caring and protective but not pushy.

Will's personality confuses Nico sometimes too.

He’d always thought of Will as easygoing and laid back. Apparently he could also be stubborn and aggravating.

The trick to writing Will is to keep in mind his default personality is a soft and lighthearted character. Writers tend to overemphasize the hard side of his personality when his default personality is actually the soft side.

Think of the relaxing, lanky cat metaphor Nico uses for him. He and Nico bicker often, and it works for Will because he rolls with everything and doesn't take things too seriously. He's able to alleviate Nico's moodiness with humor, wittiness, groundedness, and patience. Nico affectionately calls Will a "dork" because Will usually keeps things light. Interestingly enough, he's able to be lighthearted without coming across as insensitive or an airheaded goofball, the latter of which is something Nico dislikes about Percy's personality. On a related sidenote, another way writers make Will OOC is they make him too dumb or too immature. I know I mentioned to focus on Will's soft side, but be careful to avoid that too. He's a SENSIBLE, lanky cat.

The way Will keeps his composure during a stressful situation by using laughter while still being mature is expressed well in this exchange with Apollo. (Yes, Will has a lot to manage.)

It was difficult to think of this young man as my son. He was so poised, so unassuming, so free of acne. He also didn’t appear to be awestruck in my presence. In fact, the corner of his mouth had started twitching.

“Are—are you amused?” I demanded.

Will shrugged. “Well, it’s either find this funny or freak out. My dad, the god Apollo, is a fifteen-year-old—”

“Sixteen,” I corrected. “Let’s go with sixteen.”

“A sixteen-year-old mortal, lying in a cot in my cabin, and with all my healing arts—which I got from you—I still can’t figure out how to fix you.”

“There is no fixing this,” I said miserably. “I am cast out of Olympus. My fate is tied to a girl named Meg. It could not be worse!”

Will laughed, which I thought took a great deal of gall. “Meg seems cool. She’s already poked Connor Stoll in the eyes and kicked Sherman Yang in the crotch.”

The fiercer side of Will's personality comes out only when the situation calls for it; this happens sometimes when he has to be a caring family member, a responsible healer, or a warrior in a dire situation. Even when he gets more forceful, he doesn't get more forceful than he has to.

Since Will has such a balanced and lighthearted personality, what are his flaws? What are the dark sides of his personality? There are four main things that stick out.

1. He's insecure about his self-perceived lack of abilities.

"I agree," Will said. "I wish I was a better archer … I wouldn’t mind shooting my Roman relative off his high horse. Actually, I wish I could use any of my father’s gifts to stop this war." He looked down at his own hands with distaste. "Unfortunately, I’m just a healer."

2. He sometimes struggles to endure the heavy responsibilities he has as a healer and as a protector to his family.

“I got it reattached,” Will told me, his voice shaky with exhaustion. His scrubs were speckled with blood. “I need somebody to keep him stable.”

I pointed to the woods. “But—”

“I know!” Will snapped. “Don’t you think I want to be out there searching too? We’re shorthanded for healers. There’s some salve and nectar in that pack. Go!”

I was stunned by his tone. I realized he was just as concerned about Kayla and Austin as I was. The only difference: Will knew his duty. He had to heal the injured first. And he needed my help.

3. He forces himself to bottle his emotions to keep his composure.

Will laughed under his breath. “I’m terrified. But one thing you learn as head counselor: you have to keep it together for everyone else. Let’s get you on your feet."

Here's a second example.

I rested my hand on Will’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back by dawn.”

His mouth trembled ever so slightly. “How can you be sure?”

4. He constantly worries about his loved ones.

Nico rested his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Apollo, we were worried. Will was especially.”

In conclusion, Will Solace's personality is difficult to get correct. But don't worry, if you write Will as a laidback, witty cat in your fanfics, I guarantee he'll be more in-character than many other fanfics with Will Solace.

(Note: I am only human. If you believe I'm misinterpreting some aspects of Will's personality, feel free to express it. What I say isn't 100 percent the right interpretation.)

[beccascribbles]

hcs series detailing what it is like to be a manager for the various haikyuu teams

karasuno | seijoh |

warnings - swearing, karasuno being their usual selves with the addition of a chaotic manager

word count - 1.7k

being their manager was chaotic enough without the addition of the new first years

you were a second year, joining as a manager in your first year at the insistence of ennoshita, who had not wanted to deal with the likes of tanaka and nishinoya by himself

however, while kiyoko was the calming presence that warmed the boys hearts, you were her more chaotic counterpart

often, you could be found playing pranks on the boys, filling the club room with volleyballs, hiding the bibs

kiyoko was the one to rope you in, stop you from messing around too much, especially when your pranks had increased after the broom incident. you had just wanted to cheer everyone up, but it had only annoyed them

daichi had become irritable and snappy, while sugawara, despite the smile, looked exasperated

tanaka was the only one who didn’t seem too annoyed, giving your hair an affection ruffle

anyway, with the arrival of the new first years, you were determined to turn over a new leaf, make a good first impression

that plan didn’t work out

expecting it to be tanaka, ennoshita, kinoshita and narita walking towards the gym, you had hidden yourself in preparation to scare them (how you managed to mistake the sound of two people for four was beyond you but you did)

you leapt out from your hiding place, letting out a loud roar only to be greeted by a blonde beanpole with glasses and a freckled boy cowering behind him

you then proceeded to let loose a torrent of swear swords

“shit. fuck. sorry. shit. i can’t believe i did that. can we start over?”

you stuck out your hand towards them, the blonde looking at it with disdain while the other moved forward and grasped your hand

“i’m l/n y/n, and i’m one of the managers of the volleyball club,” you said, giving his hand a firm shake, a grin on your face. “this wasn’t how i planned to introduce myself. i thought you were the second years and i wanted to scare them. i promise i’m not always like this.”

cue sugawara piping up from seemingly nowhere, the rest of the team trailing behind, “don’t be fooled. she’s always like this”

“kiyoko is the responsible, lovely manager,” sighed tanaka, causing you to shoot him a glare, “and y/n is the chaotic one but we love her anyway”

“speak for yourself,” scoffed daichi, the ruffling of your hair as he walked past enough to tell you he was only teasing

“rude,” you mumbled before turning back to the two first years with a grin. “anyway, what are your names?”

the freckled one gave you a grin in response, introducing himself as yamaguchi and saying he was pleased to be playing for the team. the blonde refused to reply, walking past with a haughty tilt to his chin, though yamaguchi was quick to introduce him as tsukishima

but you were quick to wear him down, his coldness towards you gradually thawing the more you talked (although he insisted you were just being annoying)

he clearly wasn’t that annoyed as he would often share his music playlist with you

yamaguchi was quick to warm to you after the little scare. you were one of the first he told about wanting to learn the jump floater serve and happily encouraged him

meeting the monster duo of kageyama and hinata went much smoother, considering you had bribed sugawara for information on the pair before you met

the key to kageyama’s heart was milk, so when you introduced yourself and gave him a cartoon, he already knew you would be a great manager

honestly the boy is probably going to become a bit attached to you, constantly asking you to toss the ball to him to practice

definitely asks you to help tutor him as well if he knows you are good at school. kageyama feels far more comfortable with you than tsukishima

hinata was just a literal ball of sunshine, enthusiastically greeting you

probably comes to look up to you a lot and will help you play pranks so long as it doesn’t interfere too much with volleyball practice (you teach him all he needs to know, and enlist his help in executing the great balloon fiasco at the end of your third year)

all the third years definitely see you as a little sister

daichi is fiercely protective over you, steering you away from any volleyball boys who show an interest. literally stares down kuroo when he speaks to you at the training camp

sugawara is definitely the more relaxed one, sitting with you as you gossip about boys. he knows about all your crushes before anyone else. has let it slip on occasion but only to tease you (and to see the way daichi will immediately list off everything wrong about the person and why they don’t deserve you)

asahi is so soft for you. if you’re thirsty, he will scramble for a water bottle. you’re feeling tired? he will give you a piggyback. you don’t even need to ask him directly as he will just do it on instinct at this point (although he was very hurt after you told him off for abandoning the team)

you and the second years are the ultimate friend group, equal parts bitchy and calm

your group chat is constantly pinging, whether you’re in class or not (this is mainly due to tanaka and nishinoya being very bored and deciding to play games together. you will occasionally join in if it’s bowling or pool)

kinoshita and narita know all the gossip. they are your gossip buddies. tanaka walked into a wall while staring at kiyoko? they’ve got photographic proof and a whole video

if you want to know who’s talking shit about who, go to them. honestly, it pays to be quiet sometimes. the stuff daichi lets slip when he thinks no one is listening…

ennoshita is the group mum. he’s responsible for getting you all to practice, though this mainly includes tanaka and nishinoya. the rest of you are very responsible

in ennoshita’s mind, however, you are clubbed in with the two idiots. he believes that without his constant reminders, you’d never be anywhere on time. this is true but you aren’t going to tell him that

the dynamic between you, tanaka and nishinoya is so chaotic. for one, you’re all simps. you indulge their kiyoko obsession and they will listen to you thirst over the people you find attractive. no judgement goes on in these simping sessions, though you do use it as ammunition when you annoy each other

also definitely overprotective of you as well, though constantly show you and the other managers off to other teams to demonstrate karasuno’s superiority

kind of pisses you off and, while kiyoko walks off with yachi, you will hit them on the backs of their heads and tell them to shut up

they would prefer it to be kiyoko but both ultimately agree that you are hot when you are angry so will find out ways to do it more often

yachi and you get on well. personally, you think she’s an adorable mess (the perfect compliment to your chaotic energy)

though she is mainly kiyoko’s responsibility (daichi agreed with kiyoko when she said it would be better that you didn’t show yachi the ropes), you are the one to make her feel more at ease with voicing her opinion. she’s seen you rant at the boys enough times to know they won’t be offended

team sleepovers are a mess (honestly, you wonder why you still host them. answer - team bonding and tradition)

after hinata and kageyama tried to play volleyball with a cushion in your living room, resulting in sending a coffee table and all the glasses it was holding clattering to the floor, you refused to hold them at your place

this is also the reason why daichi, along with kiyoko, requested permission to hold a sleepover at the gym every two months

truth or dare gets crazy, though daichi draws the line when you are dared to strip and run around the school

“tanaka,” he barks, shooting the boy a glare, “that is very dangerous. it is cold. do you want y/n to get hypothermia?”

he will look sheepish and amend the dare to something a bit more tame and school friendly

there is always arguments on who gets to sleep where. when nishinoya and tanaka tried to sleep either side of kiyoko, daichi declared, while ennoshita pulled them away, that boys and girls would slip on opposite sides

you poked your tongue out at a pouting nishinoya and tanaka. you got to sleep next to the love of their lives. you were oblivious to the pout hinata was sending your way. he’d wanted to sleep next to his senpai and was now sandwiched between tsukishima and kageyama

sometimes you will prepare snacks for the boys, much to their horror (while you like to pretend you can cook, rock hard rice is not edible)

surprisingly, the only one honest about it is kageyama, who will hold the food away with a frown. “what is this shit?”

he’ll be hit over the head by tanaka, who shoots you a scared look. he was too slow and kageyama is now at risk of your anger

you plaster a sickly sweet smile on your face. “i won’t be tossing to you for extra practice today”

the worst punishment you can give him. he has to secretly ask the others until yachi finally agrees, too soft for her own good

you and the team are like a family, a messy family that argues and fights, but a family none the less

when the third years left, you may have shed a tear while you were crushed in a group hug and made them promise to keep in touch (which they were obviously going to do)

and, when you and the second years left the year after, you promised that you would keep in touch, that you’d be waiting to see kageyama and hinata on the world stage, threatening tsukishima to ensure he would reply to your messages, crushing yamaguchi and yachi in a hug. ennoshita had to pull you away otherwise you probably wouldn’t have left

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 4: Game On

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event  Prompt: Game On Rated: T (for sexual references, mostly references to things that happened in the comics.  You have been warned.) “I can’t just go spilling my protégé’s secrets. I can barely send her out into the mean streets on her own.” she said with a coy show of innocence that she wasn’t even trying to make believable.

 “I’m not asking for her identity, all that concerns me is why you decided to take her in.” Batman explained.

 “She was in trouble, I was in the neighbourhood and I gave her a helping hand,” she explained. “That special claw of hers comes in handy, and besides we all know how you feel about magic users Bruce.” She wasn’t wrong about that.  Batman could never trust Constantine further than he could throw him. He could only bring himself to turn to Zatanna when he really needed her help.  Shazam was an exception, seeing as the limits of his magic were clear and simple enough to understand.  That didn’t make him any less formidable, but it didn’t make him quite as unpredictable.  He was, at the end of the day, a detective who was trained to think rationally and logically in order to get to the bottom of a situation.  Magic was the ultimate wild card, and the sooner he figured out this girl’s abilities, the better.  “You’ll be pleased to know she’s not a completely hopeless case, she’s been helpful but she doesn’t get quite the same thrill out of thievery.” Catwoman remarked, “but it’s been lovely having her around, and I’m not about to just hand her over to you”.

 “Then what would you have me do?” he asked, “I’m concerned your rivals might be a little less forgiving.”

 “Is that so? You don’t think she’s strong enough to save herself?”  Catwoman smiled, it was nice to know that he cared, just a little. “Besides, she’s already had years of experience under her belt, maybe you’re just jealous you didn’t find her first.” She taunted playfully. Goodness knows he was in no position to talk when it came to taking people under his wing.  “Tell you what, how about we have a friendly little wager?” Bruce saw her eyes light up at the thought, but he was undeniably curious about what she had in mind.

 “What do you propose?” he asked.

 “A fun little game, your boys against my little foundling. If any of them can take her down, then you can welcome her into your family with open arms” she explained.

 “How do I know she won’t just kill them?” Batman asked, it wouldn’t be the first time Bruce had to try and steer someone away from any homicidal tendencies.

 “She’s a lot of things, but let’s just say killing wasn’t really an option for her back in the day.” she explained, “She’ll fall in line with your ‘no killing’ rule quite nicely. Think about it, your sons versus my little girl.”  Her claws skated across Batman’s shoulders as he pondered this.

 “Anything else?” Batman asked, he had to know exactly what they were walking into.

 “Your boys can bring a second to their little duels, but only one.  No need to have the Titans ganging up on her.” she explained.  She left out the part about her protégé having other tricks up her sleeve.  With the power she had, they would be lucky to get a single scratch on her.

 “So be it then.” Bruce said, it would be an opportunity to see how this girl measured up against the boys he had trained. At that moment Catwoman decided it was game on.

 Marinette had just come home from her classes at Gotham University, and she was looking forward to a quiet night working on some designs that were due a few weeks.   A text message from Catwoman brought her plans to a grinding halt:

 “Mari dear, made a little wager with Batman.  You beat his four sons in a fight, and you get to stay with me.  If you lose however, he gets to take you under his wing (in every sense of the word).  They’ll be on the lookout for Lady Noire in the next few days, but I never said anything about only using her to win.”

 Marinette was really starting to regret being saved by Catwoman. That night, she was outnumbered by some muggers who thought she would be an easy target.  She was trying to find an opening, to make a break for it, maybe find somewhere to hide and transform if she really must.  Suddenly she heard a voice grab their attention, “I’ve always loved big strong men who aren’t afraid to show it with someone half their size.” she purred.  While they were distracted, Marinette decided to call on Plagg for some help.   She always loved how the Lady Noire suit made her movements feel lighter, plus the night vision and Cataclysm were useful too. Unfortunately for her, it meant that Catwoman saw her in action and decided to take an interest in her from that day forth.  Sure, she was a cunning thief and there was little that Marinette could do to stop her. At the same time, Marinette was a young woman in a city that was the polar opposite of what she knew in Paris. She couldn’t deny that there was something comforting about having someone in this city looking out for her. Especially since her parents were in Paris, and Master Fu was no longer around to help her.  She took the Miraculous with her to Gotham City, but none of the other wielders came with her.  She was still their guardian after all, but she had to be more careful about using them.  She wasn’t about to single handedly take on superpowered crime lords with their armies of henchmen. She had to be a lot more careful with her powers since other people could get hurt.  Besides, they already had a small group of vigilantes keeping the city safe, they didn’t need her.

 Marinette reread the text message over and over again.  she was about to see what these vigilantes were made of, though it was just as accurate to say it was the other way around.  She opened the box, carefully choosing which ones she could use in a fight.  She usually used Lady Noire when she was with Catwoman, but by the sound of it she was counting on her to use all of her tricks to win.

 Damian never fully understood his father’s attachment to Catwoman, but this was a challenge he could not refuse.  They were told to keep an eye out for this “Lady Noire” character while they were out on patrol.  Oracle had agreed to referee this ordeal, Damian was absolutely certain he was going to be the one to bring her in.  They were allowed to bring a second, but Damian didn’t think it would be necessary. From what they were told she was a smaller Catwoman, though they were told to exercise caution because of her destructive abilities.  The last person Damian had expected to find was a girl in a red and black body suit, who looked nothing like the girl with long hair and green eyes that Batman had described.  Still, there was something odd about the girl and Damian moved in closer to investigate.

 Catwoman had given Marinette a vague rundown of who her opponents were.  There was Nightwing, the eldest of the four boys and a trained acrobat. The second eldest was the infamous Red Hood, Marinette had heard rumours about him and she had no way of knowing if the Kwamis could guard her against someone who uses firearms.  The third was Red Robin, Catwoman advised using clever strategy if she was going to get the upper hand on this one.  Finally, there was the current Robin, the son of Batman and Talia Al Ghul, the youngest of the boys who was trained by assassins before Batman took him in.

 She took the Ladybug earrings with her, seeing as they were more versatile for the occasion.  In addition to the earrings, she wore the Longg’s choker around her neck.  Master Fu had often cautioned against using fusions, considering how draining they were on her body.  Her new mentor advised her to use every tool she could in her arsenal, because they certainly would.  On most nights she noticed a small, hooded figure passing through her neighbourhood from time to time. She decided to see which of these boys would be her first opponent.  

 While she was standing on that rooftop, she heard a few footsteps behind her.  It was raining but through the mist and the rain she could see a small, shadowy figure watching her closely.  It made sense, she was dressed in bright colours and standing on a rooftop in the pouring rain.  She practically had a sign on her head that said “come and get me”, which in some way was part of her plan.  The question was, whether or not her first opponent would take the bait.  “I know you’re there little one, so are you going to stay there or come over and say hello?” she asked, Marinette tried to sound cheerful but she ended up sounding silly instead.  She tried to hide the burning embarrassment she felt at how silly that sounded. The boy could probably sense it too, because she turned around and saw him narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

 He leapt from his perch and landed behind her with a thud and splatter of rain water.  He was no taller than Marinette and he wore a red and green outfit, with a black hooded cape and a green domino mask. The red and green outfit had a golden yellow “R” on his chest, and she also noticed a sword that was sheathed at his side.  Marinette had to suspect this boy was the youngest out of the boys, Robin.   The two of them stood in silence for a long moment, she figured that someone who was formerly trained by assassins would be a little more hostile.  Then again, he was probably expecting someone else entirely.  “Aren’t you a little young to be out patrolling by yourself, little one?” she asked, trying to make some kind of conversation with the boy. She wasn’t in any position to say anything about this, considering she had been protecting Paris since she was 13.

 “What’s it to you?” He scoffed, “we’re looking for someone named Lady Noire, and you clearly wanted to attract someone’s attention by standing on a rooftop in that costume”.

 “Robin, can you not be a brat for like, five minutes?” Red Robin groaned into his comm, but Damian didn’t listen.

 “You can either state your business or stop wasting my time” he snapped, as Marinette chuckled.

 “So, you’re planning on challenging Lady Noire.  Tell me, what do you really know about her?” she asked him.

 “Only that father and that woman have taken an interest in her, and I intend to prove to both of them that she is nothing special.” he growled, “so unless you know something about her, stay out of my way”.

 “You seem certain, for someone who has never once faced her” she said with a smile.

 “I was trained by the best, I will not lose to someone who is little more than a foundling.” he was reaching for his sword at that moment.  Red Robin and Nightwing rolled their eyes at that comment as they listened in. They knew they had all bested their youngest brother at some point or other, despite being “foundlings”.

 “It would have been easy too just to hide from you and your brothers, but I’m going to enjoy taking you down a peg.” She braced herself for her first fight of the challenge.   She really could have, but sadly she had very little patience for people who thought they were better than everyone else.

 “I won’t lose to you Lady Noire, or whoever you are”, he growled as he drew his sword and pointed it at her.

 “Tikki, Longg, unify!” she called out, and a flash of red and gold light stunned Robin for a moment. The red and black bodysuit now had gold accents and a symbol on her chest.  The symbol was a lighting bolt, a wave and a gust of wind all swirling together.

 “What did you do?!” Red Robin yelled into his comm, “I swear if she kills us all just because you couldn’t control yourself…”

 Robin looked up to see that she had a yo-yo in one hand and the other reached behind her to draw a sword.  

 “And by the way, it’s Dragon Bug to you”, she swung her yo-yo with one hand and Robin ducked to dodge it. After dodging it, he charged at Dragon Bug, katana in hand.  She blocked his attack with her sword before kicking him back with her foot.  Dragon Bug pulled back her yo-yo and charged at him with her sword, when he blocked her, he spun around and kicked her legs out from under her.  As Dragon Bug fell to the floor, she raised her sword and yelled “Water Dragon!”.  There was more than enough to create a barrier that pushed Robin back before he could strike again.  Robin was knocked back against the wall, and she took out her yo-yo to make an escape to the streets below.

 This Lady Noire, Dragon Bug, whoever she was, had insulted his honor.  To him, that just simply would not stand. His father said that he wanted her alive, but he could barely get a scratch on her.  He got up quickly and used his grappling hook to swing after her. She was waiting for him, with her hair blowing in the wind, and a smile that Damian wanted to wipe off her face. He charged at her once more, this time sliding on the floor at the last moment and hoping to take a swipe at her leg. Once again, she managed to turn and block his katana. The pair of them traded blow after blow after blow, but he could only land a few scratches on her.  Marinette could use Lightning Dragon and shock the boy, to bring this to a swift end.  However, with all the water that was around them, she might end up killing the boy instead. Before she could try anything else with that sword, he blocked it and sent it flying off to the side. Marinette watched as her sword flew out of her hands before clattering on the ground next to them.

 Marinette had to admit that this kid was good and that the fusion was starting to drain her a little. She had to act fast as she dodged another incoming strike. She leapt backwards to dodge it but the boy took out a grappling hook, he gave it a few good spins before flinging it forward and catching her foot.  He pulled the wire taut and sent her crashing to the ground, hard.  “You may have your tricks, Dragon Bug, but I have skill, I have training, and now I have defeated you.” he called out as he tugged at the wire, pulling her towards him.

 “That may be true, but there’s something you should know…” she groaned as she propped herself up on her elbows, he stopped for a moment as he waited for her to tell him exactly what that was. Marinette reached for her yo-yo, she needed to finish this and safe her strength, “…you’re not the only one who’s had training.” she told him. Dragon Bug quickly spun her yo-yo and swung it at Robin, this time wrapping the wire around him and pulling the string tight.  He tried to free himself using his katana, while Dragon Bug unwrapped the wire around her foot.  As she stood up she said, “another one of my ‘magic tricks’” as she ran to retrieve her own sword.  She sheathed the sword and looked back to find a hog-tied Robin, desperately trying to cut the cord and free himself.  She wanted to enjoy this moment for just a little longer, there was always something so satisfying in moments like these.  She took a moment to send a quick message to Catwoman:

 “Dragon Bug: 1, Robin: 0” before sending her a selfie, with Robin tied up in the background.

 She glanced back at Robin who was now just scowling at her.  “You fought valiantly little one, but sadly you are not my only opponent” she told him as she unwound the string around him. When she had her yo-yo back, she flung it towards a street lamp and swung forward, lifting her up off the ground. There was one thing Damian was certain of, there was no way his brothers were going to let him live this down. With a good tug of her yo-yo, freed Damian, spinning him around in the process.

 Meanwhile, Jason and Roy were on a road trip back to Gotham, the two of them had just taken care of a Drug Lord in Starling City.  Jason’s phone buzzed with some news from Dick, something about how they had all been embroiled in a bet to take down Selina’s new protégé.  If any of them win, she has to join the Bat family, and if they all lose then she keeps working with Selina.  He could not bring himself to care, it was 50/50 on whether or not this girl was tolerable or if she was going to annoy him like the rest. Roy glanced over at him before turning his attention back to the road, “you look like you’re desperately searching for a fuck to give” he commented.

 “Just some dumb bet Bruce made,” Jason shut off his phone before reclining back in his chair.

 “That’s not like Bruce, usually making dumb bets was something you guys did” Roy wracked his brain trying to imagine the stoic and serious Batman making a dumb bet.

 “Something about Catwoman and her little sidekick.” he drawled, “If Dick, Me, Replacement or Demon Spawn take her down, she becomes Batman’s little sidekick.  Like he doesn’t have enough of those running around”.

 “Ah, I’m guessing you don’t want to fight her when we make it back to Gotham City?” Roy asked, “wouldn’t it be hilarious if you taught her how to win against your brothers?”

 Jason gave a half-hearted chuckle, moments later his phone buzzed with more messages.  He was really looking forward to this little power nap, but he checked to make sure no one desperately needed his help.

 He sees the picture that she took with Damian tied up in the background.  Babs, Steph and Cass had watched the whole thing, with popcorn. While Tim had made that photo the new wallpaper on the Belfry’s computer.

 “Well, says here she literally wiped the floor with Demon Spawn, before swinging away on a yo-yo.” he said and they both laughed “now I’m just mad I won’t get to buy the girl a few drinks”.

 “I mean either way, I’m sure you’ll get your chance if you’re both in Gotham City.  I’m just sad that I’ll have to be your third wheel.” Roy said wistfully.

 “Roy, I had to listen to you and Kory in the next room,” Jason recalled, “you have no room to complain about third wheeling.”

 “Awh was little Jaybird jealous?” Roy joked.

 “Hey you’re the one who assumed that we banged in the first place,” he said “all I said was I was with her, and you decided to interpret that however you wanted”.

 “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway because she ran off to Miami to work through some things, and we’re just over here thinking about the good old days,” Roy said.  The two of them continued to drive in silence and Jason leaned back, trying to get some sleep before facing whatever chaos was waiting to greet them in Gotham City.

  Tim has researched all he could on this mysterious Lady Noire, yet there are several reported sightings of different vigilantes all with the same height and build. Lady Noire, Ladybug, Dragon bug. Tim compiled all known sightings onto his corkboard to get a clear picture of who this person is.

The fight between Dragon Bug and Damian provided him with crucial information on how he could counter Dragon Bug. Tim then donned his Red Robin costume and began patrol of Gotham City. Gliding across he spotted an usual sight, a costumed person standing on a rooftop. It had to be the one Batman told him about, the person he was to fight because of the bet.

Tim landed on a nearby rooftop to reconfirm the target. "Same height and build, but this costume is different." Tim sighed, he had noticed that each costume had its own power and abilities, and made detailed notes on each. Codename: Polka-dot had the power to summon an unknown household object. Codename: Catwoman II used an indestructible staff and the power of disintegration, Codename: Drake used a sword and came with the power of hydrokinesis.

However, he had no intel regarding this new costume. He decided to press his luck and use stealth to take her down. He leaped off the roof and began gliding towards her with a kick.

To his surprise, his target shrank at the last second, he glided through and smashed into a skylight, landing inside an abandoned building.

Multimouse followed suit and jumped in through the broken skylight. Landing right at the centre of the room, she simply stood there arms akimbo looking at him. Red Robin threw a smoke bomb, grappling to the rafters. Multimouse did not pursue, no sense of panic she simply walked to a wooden crate and sat on it.

Red Robin, took the opportunity to launch himself off and glided towards Multimouse with a kick. He was shocked to see her suddenly turn around as if she knew he was there the entire time, with perfect timing she grabbed and judo flipped Red Robin through the wooden crate. Wiping her hands in a dramatic manner, Multimouse walked to the centre of the room and crossed her arms. Red Robin crushed a smoke bomb with his hand, obscuring the area and diving towards an underground vent.

He began to wonder how she was able to counter him so effectively. "The power of foresight? 360 degrees x-ray vision? No it can't be." Red Robin thought to himself. While crawling in the vents to a position behind Multimouse, he berated himself for pressing his luck without any information on Multimouse. He peeked his head out of the vent, Multimouse had not moved, she continued to stare at Red Robin's previous location. Taking another chance, Red Robin jumped out of the underground vent ready for a takedown.

Again as if she was a clairvoyant she countered him perfectly, spinning on the spot and delivering a crushing kick to Red Robin’s midsection. Sending him flying across the room, he took out his staff and slowly got up, using the staff as if it was a cane. He stood on shaky legs, in disbelief.

He then begins to notice something unusual hanging on the hem of his cape. His eyes widen as he takes a closer look. A miniature clone of Multimouse was hanging on, his eyes snapped up to the rafters and then the vents. There were several miniature clones all over the building, all about the size of a small insect.

Red Robin's jaw dropped as he had this epiphany. Seeing her cue, Multimouse shrank down and spawned a horde of miniature clones. Millions of clones rush towards Red Robin, he begins swinging his staff, stomping on any clones on the ground, flailing his arms like a madman. The horde bellows a collective “Surrender,” Red Robins defiantly continues to fight.

Soon the swarm begins to cover Red Robin all the way up to his neck, his body unable to move. The Multimouse arms pulls off the cowl and begins pulling all of Red Robin’s hair. Red Robin, facing the agony of Multimouse waxing his head. “Ok, ok I give up.” he cried. As he finished his plea, the swarm dissipated and reforms to the singular human sized Multimouse. Red Robin is then left kneeling and staring at the strands of his own hair left on the floor.

Multimouse, seizing the opportunity to obtain a trophy of her efforts, takes a selfie with a poor, disheveled Red Robin in the background.

  Marinette was really starting to feel the effects of using different Miraculous for two nights straight. Dragon Bug was draining enough, but she had to use Multimouse to take on Red Robin.  That left Nightwing and The Red Hood, and she was starting to wonder what was the point of this game.  She felt like she was just fighting to win, fighting so that the person who took care of her when she first arrived in Gotham could prove a point.  If she won, then she would stay under Catwoman’s protection, and the Miraculous would be protected with her.  Though she was lucky that the Miraculous themselves didn’t look valuable enough to pique her interest.  If she lost to one of them, she would be under Batman’s protection instead.  She would become a part of the group of vigilantes who operate in the city, and she didn’t know how she felt about that either. How would she feel about seemingly being the only magic user among them?  How would he feel about her being a magic user?  She hadn’t even met the guy, all she knew was that he took an interest in her dealings with Catwoman.  Maybe she would encounter the Red Hood and he would make the choice for her by putting her out of her misery.  She decided to settle this fight once and for all as Ladybug, maybe then someone would give her some answers.  

 She got a text message from Catwoman, telling her to meet her on a rooftop that had gargoyles glaring down at the streets below.  Maybe she had information on where her next fight would be, she didn’t say.  By the time she got there, she saw two people eating fast food next to the gargoyles.  The first was a redhead in red armor, and the second was…

 “Get your own brooding spot, this one’s taken!” He yelled. Marinette looked up to see the other guy had a red domino mask, and in addition to being dressed in Kevlar and leather, had a red bat symbol on his chest.

 Marinette spun her yo-yo, getting ready for a fight. The redhead continued eating, while his dark-haired companion gave her a swift once over.

 “So, you’re the girl who took down Robin and Red Robin?” he asked, as if struggling to believe it.  

 “And you are?” she asked, when he put on the red helmet that was in his hand, it suddenly became clear.

 “So, looking for me?” he asked, “Or are you on your way to fight the original boy wonder?”

 “Honestly, I’ll take my chances with you.” Marinette said as she launched her yo-yo at his companion and wrapped the cord around him.

 “Wait, wait, wait why me?” the redhead cried,  then she threw him and sent him crashing into the Red Hood.  The pair of them slammed into a nearby wall before she released the redhead.  She unwound the cord and was getting ready to strike again.

 Underneath the sprawled out pile of bodies, Red Hood grunted “Arsenal, get your ass off of my face or else…” Arsenal got up before he could finish his threat and they both stood up.

 “So who checked ‘Fights with Toys’ off their bingo card?” Arsenal joked.

 “Is that the best you can do?” Red Hood taunted. He came at her with a knife in hand, when she leapt in the air and wrapped her yo-yo cord around his arm.  She launched herself at him, landing an aerial kick on his helmet. Red Hood grabbed her by the foot and flipped her over, sending her crashing to the ground.

“If you came here to fight me that’s one thing, not many people get to say they took on someone with a yo-yo and lived, unless you’re Toyman.” he said, as he lifted her up off the ground.  “If you think this is what it takes to face Nightwing, then you have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

 Ladybug took a few steps back after he helped her get to her feet, “so are you going to fight me instead?”

 “Pixie, take it from me, it’s really not all it’s cracked up to be.  As fun as it’s been watching you kick my brother’s asses, they are nothing compared to Nightwing.” he explained as he took off his helmet and set it down next to him.

 “What do you know about Nightwing?” she asked, still understandably guarded about the situation.

 “Oh what don’t I know, he’s basically Batman’s heir.” he told her “I’m just one of the spares, and that’s on a good day when I managed to not die.”

 Dick had made it clear days ago that he wasn’t going to fight her, he already put his foot down at how silly this whole thing was.  Jason, however, decided to have a little fun. “Honestly, you might as well just walk right into the batcave and challenge Batman yourself.” he told her, “I mean you won’t die, that’s kinda his whole deal, but you’ll be eating through a straw for the rest of your life.”

Jason, enjoying the anxiety bubble in the young woman, and he decided to crank it up to eleven.

“Nightwing is equal if not better than Batman in every way, he once took up the mantle of Batman when he was injured. Not only that, he broke Bane’s back.  He lifted a 7ft tall 500lb big guy, snapped his spine over his knee as if it was nothing.”  Jason moves his arms, mimicking the motion of breaking something over his knee. Ladybug began to sweat even more, struggling to imagine the powerhouse of a man to even accomplish such a feat.

Jason’s grin widens, “not only that, he fought a giant mutated bat the size of a man. He wrestled Man-Bat, putting him in a full nelson and smashing its face into solid concrete” Ladybug cringes at the thought of feeling the full force of having your face slammed into concrete. Jason gets ready for the coup de grace. “In fact, when he was 10 years old, he watched his parents get murdered by mobster Tony Zucco in front of his own eyes. After being taken under Batman’s wing, he went out for revenge. He chased after Tony for hours and cornered him in Crime Alley.

Tony died that night when Nightwent went after him, the official cause was a heart attack.”

Jason stops talking to look around him, as if he was paranoid and there were eyes all around him. He walks up to Ladybug and whispers to her ear “but between you and me, it wasn’t.”

 He turns to Roy, “but if she’s gonna try and take him on after all that, then we might as well pull up some chairs and watch.” he said, giving Roy a knowing look.

 “Oh yeah, I mean he’s no match for a cute girl and her yo-yo.” Roy joked.

 “Come on, he’s probably waiting on top of the Iceberg Lounge, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting” he declared, Ladybug followed as the three of them made their way to the Iceberg Lounge. She felt her legs shaking, but it’s fine, she would at least live to tell the tale...right?

Nightwing stood on the roof of the Iceberg Lounge, carefully watching the whereabouts of the people going in and out of the area.  He heard footsteps and looked up to see three figures landing on the rooftop in front of him. He looked up to see Red Hood, Arsenal and a short girl who looked to be in her late teens, maybe early 20s.  He looked between them, then back at the girl who was spinning a red yo-yo with black polka dots.

Nightwing waved to them, figuring she would be the short girl mentioned in the bet between Batman and Catwoman. As he noticed the three, the short girl visibly frightened as he walked towards them.

 Nightwing sighed “what did you tell her?” he asked, he had better things to than get involved in Batman’s dumb little bet.  The outcome would have been someone joining the Bat family by force, even he had put his foot down by that point.  

 “I mean, nothing that wasn’t true.” Red Hood told him, “she might as well know who she’s dealing with.”

 “Right, and you probably told her you are just a soft teddy bear compared to me.” Nightwing remarked sarcastically, “was it to keep her from beating the stuffing out of you?”. At that point Ladybug was visibly confused, so Nightwing looked over at her “so how did you get dragged into this? Got sick of having to share a litter box?”

 Ladybug eyes Nightwing cautiously, thinking his joking mannerisms are an elaborate ruse to lower her guard. “What, don’t tell my Catwoman’s got your tongue?” Nightwing jokes with a large grin. Ladybug begins to slowly walk back, confused at how expectations did not match reality.

Nightwing points his thumb at Ladybug and talks to Red Hood, “Alright what did you tell her about me?” Red Hood raises his arms innocently “Like I said, nothing that wasn’t true.”

Nightwing raises his eyebrow at Red Hood and crosses his arms. “Alright I told her how you took down Bane and Man-Bat by yourself” Red Hood admits. “And?” Nightwing begins tapping his foot. “I may have, insinuated that you may or may not have had something to do with Tony Zucco's heart attack”

Nightwing facepalms, “well so much for first impressions, let's start over shall we?”

 Nightwing reaches his hand out to Ladybug, “Name’s Richard but everyone calls me Dick”

Marinette tentatively reaches out to shake his hand, “I know you aren’t enthusiastic about this bet, neither am I. I don’t want to knock your spots off, so how about I lie on the ground, you take a picture for Catwoman and you fly off into the sunset”

 “Where would I go?” she asked,

 “She could come with us.” Red Hood suggested, “nothing would annoy Batman more.”

 “Right, and next she’ll start asking me if I actually hypnotize people with my ass.” Nightwing said as he raised an eyebrow at him.  “Think Catwoman would let you take her?”

 “We already asked, someone has to look after this pipsqueak while she’s doing what she does best, alone”, Red Hood explained.

 Ladybug felt herself calming down a lot more at that moment.  She came to this city not really knowing anyone, feeling like there was no one else looking out for her.  Now, for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was going to be in good hands.

 Bonus 1:

Roy: So, should we call ourselves “Red Arse Bug” or “Lady Red Arse”?

Jason: Do you want me to throw you off this roof?

 Bonus 2:

Ladybug: So you all had to wear red, yellow and green?

Red Hood: Yup.

Ladybug: What was it like?

Red Hood: I did my time in the pixie boots, Pixie.  Doesn’t mean I like to talk about it.

[anthemxix]

So How do you think Fierce deity Sky would work?

Like this!

Most of the heroes’ exposed secrets were not willingly confessed so much as forcibly revealed by circumstance. A harrowing battle ended with the Smith finally displaying his Four Sword’s power; Legend reluctantly demonstrated his ability to transform into a painting during a dungeon puzzle. Compared to these two discoveries, the fact that Twilight and Wolfie were one and the same was easy to digest, Sky thought.

A few secrets, however, were tentatively shared in the sleepy evening hours when conversation turned soft and somber. Sky could recall this particular secret’s revelation with clarity. He could visualize Time carefully cradling the ancient mask that Sky now gripped in trembling fingers. Even now, he felt the horror of Time’s story, of a small, brave child compelled to be a vessel for a violent deity. And he remembered Time caressing the red markings on his cheek, the permanent byproducts of too much power used too often.

“I can’t believe you still have that damn thing,” Warriors had murmured, half-lamenting and half-accusatory.

“Would you use it again?” Wind had asked. “Even though it’s so dangerous?”

“If I had to, yes.” Time smiled sadly, tracing his fingers along the edge of the mask, as Sky, lost in memory, did now. “After all these years, he almost feels like a friend.”

A friend, Sky mused. I sure hope he’s a friend.

Scanning the battlefield a final time, Sky could see how exhausted and injured all of his brothers were, could see the monsters’ massive cavalry was still invigorated and ruthless.

Unless someone had another miraculous secret ability to pull out, this was a losing fight. The time for drastic, maybe desperate, measures had arrived, and this damnable mask was the only failsafe Sky could think of. Its unparalleled power would easily secure them a victory.

More importantly, it would easily save their lives.

Mind made up, borrowed item in hand, Sky stepped away from Epona, who was burdened with everyone’s bags. She whinnied questioningly, no doubt sensing Sky’s nerves, but he ignored her as he trudged back onto the battlefield, raising the Fierce Deity mask to his face.

The transformation was instantaneous. Sudden and extreme, it made Sky feel dizzy and nauseated—except it didn’t, because he was bodiless. His consciousness had been snatched from his physical form—except it hadn’t been, because his head felt achy and overstuffed, like he’d experienced an abrupt shift in air pressure, and his stomach violently churned.

Yet simultaneously, he felt a radical disconnect from his body. Sky could vaguely discern his own motion, and then only in ephemeral moments of clarity. He likened the paradoxical sensation of being and not being to the blurry region between sleeping and waking, but that analogy didn’t quite encompass this disconcerting, disjointing experience.

He was himself, but he wasn’t; he wasn’t someone else, either, but he was. He wasn’t alone; there was another consciousness beside him, inside him. Inside his body or his mind? He couldn’t tell. Both, neither. He felt like his consciousness wasn’t his own, like someone was sharing his thoughts, or maybe thinking his thoughts for him.

Sky felt all manner of confusing, contradictory things, and it was too much. Too much.

Before rummaging through Time’s bag to fetch the mask—an event that must have happened hours ago, maybe seconds ago—Sky had reaffirmed his private vow to accept any and all hardships in place of his brothers. For Sky’s mistakes, they had suffered enough. Not just the mistakes he’d made on his adventure, but all the errors thereafter for the rest of his life. All the choices he would make—the choices he’d already made, in his brothers’ histories—affected them in ways he couldn’t even conceive. He could never atone for that, but he would try his damnedest to protect them from anything he could.

(Do I really sacrifice myself for them? Sky often wondered. Or is it because I can’t live with the guilt?)

Sky had chosen to don the consumptive mask so Time wouldn’t have to, but now, in this realm of existing and not existing, of pain and total numbness, he wished he hadn’t. He selfishly wished he could strip off the horrid, possessed article and return to himself, because this was too much.

How long was he trapped in that in-between? Sky didn’t know. Reentering the normal world, when it happened, felt like surfacing from a sea after nearly drowning. No, it was more, he imagined, like being birthed. His body felt foreign in its familiarity as he frantically gulped in air, acutely aware of his lungs expanding, feeling terribly, definitely ill.

Unconsciously, he rolled from his back to his side and vomited. As soon as he was finished, a dribble of bile on his chin, he was scooped into someone’s lap.

Blearily, he looked up at Time, catching a glimpse of the oldest hero’s devastated expression before the man pulled him close. Time’s bulky armor made the tight hug painful, but Sky didn’t mind. Depleted, he sank into Time’s embrace.

“Are you okay?” Time whispered. Sky nodded into the Old Man’s neck, a slight movement that nonetheless renewed his dizziness.

“Are you?” Sky murmured, his mouth dry, his head heavy. He could feel himself drowsing despite the reticence in Time’s lengthy pause.

“Everything will be okay,” he said at last.

Not exactly a reassuring statement. Sky struggled to open his eyes, to draw back and look across the battlefield. He blinked at a blood-drenched heap of mangled, shredded monster parts before Time gently pulled him back, settling Sky against his shoulder again.

“It’s okay,” Time soothed. “It’s all going to be okay.”

Sky thought he should try to get up again, to survey the decimation that occurred by his hand, the destructive consequences of his choices. Before he could, though, Time’s fingers combing through his hair lulled him into that strange space between dreaming and waking, and he decided he would rest.

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 25

part 1 | part 24 

A/N: she’s HERE!!! anyways, post and dip BYE

Y/N bit her bottom lip as she shook the dice around the wooden cup she was holding. She was losing–badly. Sho, a game that Aang had taught them a few days ago when Zuko had let up on their firebending training, was an Air Nomad game that the monks would play. Aang was a little confused on the rules, so they’d filled in the blanks where they needed to with their own. 

And Sokka was good at it, way better than any of the rest of them. Which is probably why he’s suggested they’d start betting money.

“Just roll them!” Zuko growled from next to Y/N where he was laying on his stomach, head propped in his hands. Y/N gave him a sharp look and let the two dice fall from the cup onto the ground. Snake eyes. She’d only be able to move her pieces two spaces. Y/N let her head fall into her free hand with a resounding smack. She could hear the disappointed sighs from the rest of the gang around her. Sokka had already leeched them of their money, Y/N was their only hope, and now she was going to lose too. 

Of course the money that they all had was shared amongst themselves, but it was purely the principle of the fact. 

Sokka snatched the cup cleanly from Y/N’s left hand, dropping the dice into it before shaking it. Surely he couldn’t roll exactly a seven, there was no way– “Are you kidding me?!” Y/N shouted as Sokka laughed and grabbed what meager money Y/N had thrown into the pot and shoved into his now full pouch. “How did you roll a seven? How?!”

Sokka’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “I’ll never tell my secrets.”

Y/N pouted. “I feel like I was just swindled.” Well, at least she knew how those people in the Fire Nation felt when Toph stole all their money. 

Sokka scooted closer to Y/N and threw an arm around her shoulder. She automatically leaned in. “Oh don’t be such a sore loser, I’ll buy you something nice in the next town we stop in.” He winked at her.  

Butterflies fluttered in Y/N’s stomach in response. She rolled her eyes, fought off a smile and sent him a withering glare back which didn’t phase Sokka in the slightest. In fact, he looked more pleased with himself. 

“Shut up, Sokka,” Toph said what everyone was thinking and Y/N felt herself giggle along with the rest of them.

“Aw, Toph we’re buds, you don’t really–”

“No, seriously! Everyone–shut up. I hear something off in the distance.” Toph stood up and turned her head so one of her ears was pointed in the direction of the canyon.

Y/N quickly pulled out of Sokka’s reach and scrambled to her bag where her sword lay, sheathed and untouched since she got back from Boiling Rock. There was a near imperceptible shake in her hands as she pulled the sheath off and dropped it to the side, adrenaline already coursing through her body. Everyone else was frozen, either staring at Toph or Y/N. Despite her asking for silence, Toph turned to Y/N. “Do you hear it too?”

Suki was standing too now. Something about the way Toph and Y/N acted had set her off too. “No,” she answered for both of them. “I don’t hear anything. Not even the birds.”

Truthfully, Y/N hadn’t even thought of that. The cave dwelling birds that lived in and around the temple were always chirping. It had become the background noise to their lives, but now it was silent. 

Y/N let out a shaky breath. It was true, the stillness of the air was unnerving. It reminded her of the fights that happened in the yard at Boiling Rock. The ones where you could hear a pin drop before the brawl began, or the solitary click of boots down the halls in the middle of the night before some prisoner was pulled from their room with a piercing scream. It was the moonlight shining through the leaves in the forest that night before Kaito and his friend attacked. Too quiet was too quiet and it made her stomach roll with fear.

The first explosion rocked the very ground Y/N stood on. It felt like an earthquake, but Y/N knew better. 

Three Fire Nation airships seemed to rise from the canyon itself. Over her shoulder, Y/N could hear bits of the Air Temple crumbling in on itself where the first bomb hit. In the 100 years since the Fire Nation was last here, their technology and weaponry had only gotten more advanced. The temple was old and unkept, it wouldn’t last long enough to protect them. 

Aang broke away from the group and ran to his glider. With a powerful swing he was able to airbend yet another fireball heading for the roof, back in the direction it came from. It exploded next to the far left airship, sending it careening sideways, but it wasn’t enough to take it down. Another one smashed into the fountain sending stones and dust flying through the air. It stung her eyes and choked her throat. Y/N coughed and stumbled backwards, running right into someone. Hands gripped her arms, keeping her steady.

“We have to head to the back of the temple!” Sokka shouted into Y/N’s ear. It was a good thing too, another section of the roof came crashing down, much too close for comfort. She caught sight of Zuko and Katara diving to the side to avoid being crushed by the falling rocks. 

Y/N nodded and the two of them ran towards the back of the temple to where Haru and Toph were bending a hole in the ground large enough to fit Appa. Suki was currently trying to help Aang wrangle Appa, who was having nothing with the thought of being pulled underground. 

“Come on Appa, it’s okay!” Aang tried to reassure as he tugged on Appa’s reins. The sky bison bellowed loudly in response and dug his heels in. 

Everyone else had started to make their way into the tunnel first, Chit Sang was helping Teo navigate his wheelchair over the bumpy rocks, The Duke close behind. All they had to do was get Appa to go too and they’d be safe. Well, safer than where they were now. 

Sokka, Y/N and Katara joined Aang and Suki in trying to coax Appa into the tunnel. Y/N promised belly rubs and as many moonpeaches as Appa could eat if he just took a few more steps forward but he wasn’t budging. 

They were really pushing it close now, with each explosion more of the temple fell away; half of the courtyard was already gone. 

Y/N looked back to the ships, which looked larger than she’d ever seen before. Standing at the head of the middle ship, like it was her own personal army–which it probably was–was Azula. 

And Zuko had caught sight of her too. 

Y/N already knew what was going through his mind before he probably did. “Zuko! Get back here now!” she shouted. 

“What are you doing?!” Aang chimed in, making a move towards stopping him. 

Zuko barely even glanced back and through a pause in the explosions, Y/N could hear his voice loud and clear. “I’ll hold them off. I think this is a family visit.”

“Zuko!” Y/N and Aang both yelled simultaneously. Appa’s reins fell from Y/N’s hands and she reached back for her sword, ready to follow Zuko into battle. 

But her hand paused, just as she touched the leather grip.

What was she supposed to do? Y/N had always, always been tailing after those two. Always soothing both sides after their fights, promising a better tomorrow if–

“–if you just please get along, for me.”

Y/N growled before grabbing Appa’s reins once again. She couldn’t be that person anymore. She couldn’t keep pretending that she was their nurse-maid, there to apologize for when one was mad at the other. This wasn’t about elementary school games in the palace gardens, this was a war; life and death. And as much as it hurt her to admit, Y/N might not be able to save them both. 

Besides, she was sure that her presence would only cause more trouble, it always did.

“This isn’t working.” Sokka pushed his hair out of his face with frustration. “We’ve got to get out of here now.”

Aang shook his head. “Appa isn’t going to go into that tunnel!” 

Appa seconded this statement with a roar. 

“Aang, we can’t fly out of here!” Katara gestured wildly in front of them to the airships that were mostly blocking their only way out besides the tunnel. 

A large shot of orange flames caught their attention. Even in the daylight it was blinding. Azula and Zuko were battling one another, but the airships hadn’t slowed their onslaught on the Air Temple. 

“We’ll have to try.” Y/N could hear the determination in Aang’s voice but she kept her eyes on the ships, on the blue and orange flames that were dancing across the top of the centermost one. 

Y/N turned her head over her shoulder. “They might not be expecting that. It’ll take a while to change their trajectory and we could slip away. If we’re fast enough.”

She locked eyes with Aang and an understanding passed between them. 

“So we can’t take everyone...” 

“No.”

Katara reached behind her absently in the direction of her father. “What do you mean we can’t take everyone?! We aren’t being separated again!” 

“Appa can’t carry us all. We need to move fast if we have any chance of getting out of here.” 

Sokka nodded in agreement. “We have to split up. They can still get away, Katara.” Sokka looked away from his sister to his father. “You can take the tunnel and get to the stolen airship.” 

“No…” Katara’s voice broke and Y/N busied herself with climbing into Appa’s saddle. 

“It won’t be forever,” Hakoda promised before pulling his two kids into his chest. 

Y/N waved down to him sadly, as Suki and Toph piled in next to her. She sent up a silent message to whichever god or spirit that was listening to keep her new friends safe in their own escape. 

“Which way?” Aang asked as he looked out to the canyon. 

Y/N couched near Appa’s head and pointed directly at the airships. “Wait until there’s a break between the firebender’s hitting the temple, then go up as high as you can.” 

Riding on Appa’s back on a good day made Y/N feel like she was floating; where her stomach was in her chest and her heart was in her throat and every gust of wind made her gasp. 

So when Appa dove and rocked side to side avoiding the explosions aimed at him, it was safe to say Y/N was left queasy. The higher they climbed, the less fire reached them. 

In a moment of clarity, where they drifted above the airships in the cloudline, Y/N was able to think about how much she hated where she was; about who she was. 

As she peered over the edge of the saddle, trying to get her eyes on Azula and Zuko, she wished so badly that she would just wake up from this awful nightmare, back in her bed on Ember Island, ten years old and nothing to worry about. Before she met Azula; before her life became this. 

And then she saw them. On top of the center airship, fighting one another like they were true enemies. And for once, it looked like Azula was evenly matched. The siblings simultaneously threw fire-packed punches at each other, and where they met in the middle blew up into an inferno of blue and orange flames, blowing both Azula and Zuko over the edges of the airship, plummeting to the bottom of the canyon. 

Aang saw it first, diving Appa down before Y/N could even register what just happened. 

“Oh my spirits. Aang?!” Y/N hung halfway out of the saddle as they dropped quickly through the smoke in the direction they last saw Zuko. Fear spiked through her body like a white hot knife. “Does anyone see them?”

Y/N was met with silence, just the wind whistling past her to fill her ears. She wasn’t sure if someone spoke up she’d be able to hear them anyways. Her nails dug into the soft leather under her hands, so deep half-moons were sure to be left behind long after she let go. Y/N stared into the clouds, dizzy and hyperventilating. 

One breath in– 

“There!” Sokka hollered, jumping to the edge next to her. 

–and out.

It was by some divine force that Y/N was able to reach Zuko as he was falling. Even with Aang steering Appa in his direction, Y/N almost missed. It’s like she was moving in slow motion, their fingers dug into one another’s arms and the sudden weight of him pulling on her almost had Y/N tipping out of the saddle, shocking her back to reality. 

The only thing that caught her was someone’s hands fisted in the back of her shirt. That was a good idea. Y/N reached around and grabbed the back collar of Zuko’s shirt, dragging him in roughly. 

His hands were scorching hot from the recent firebending but he didn’t let go of her, instead his fingers tightened around her arm as the two of them stared back towards the cliffs. Their eyes were locked on the sight in front of them. 

Like Zuko, Azula was falling too. But she didn’t have anyone to catch her. 

Y/N hated the way she took a shaky breath in automatically. “She’s not going to make it.” 

Y/N made a move towards the back edge of the saddle, as if somehow being closer meant that she could lean out and help. She wanted to look away; she didn’t want to see her best friend plummet to her death but she couldn’t turn away, she couldn’t break her eyes from the sight in front of her. 

But in true Azula fashion, she persevered through all–she was just too stubborn to die yet. She firebent herself closer to the cliff face and caught herself on the rocks with her hair pin. 

“She did make it.” Zuko’s voice was surprisingly full of relief. 

Even from the distance, Y/N could feel the anger Azula emitted. But that wasn’t Y/N’s problem anymore, as much as she wanted it to be. 

She sat down, facing away from the cliffs–away from Azula–and pulled her knees to her chest. Zuko sank down next to her, doing the same. 

Momo, sensing some shift in her emotions, crawled into Y/N’s lap. She scratched absentmindedly behind his ears. She looked across her friends in wonder, all crammed together in the Appa’s saddle, in various states of shock. She wished they’d all met under better circumstances, but she was glad to have met them nonetheless. She would never be the person she was today without them. This was the life she was meant to have, even with how messed up it was. 

They flew for as long as Appa could fly and then some more, needing to get the most distance between them and the Fire Nation airships as possible. They only landed, all fully exhausted, when Appa could go no farther and the sun was low in the sky. 

----

Zuko and Y/N tasked themselves with setting up the tents while everyone else split off from the group and began to set up camp in a familiar daze; no words necessary. 

“I get it now.” Zuko shook one of the tent canvas’ out over the grass, clearing off dust from the journey, doing everything in his power to avoid Y/N’s eyes. 

She yawned as she pulled out the tent stakes and tossed them on the ground near his feet. “Get what?”

“I get, well–you now. It’s something Azula said when we were fighting.” Zuko mumbled. He began to thread the wooden supports through loops in the canvas without another word. 

Y/N blinked wondering if she heard him correctly. “What did she say?” 

Zuko seemed even more hesitant to speak now. Azula was a sore subject around camp before she’d just attacked them. The last thing they needed was someone to hear them talking about her. “Something about how she had to do it. The way she talked, I don’t even want to hear the garbage Father is filling her head with.”

Y/N cringed and with a pang of worry, she wondered how Ozai would take the loss of Aang once again. “You don’t think she’s too far gone, after what she did?” 

Zuko chewed on his lip for a second. “She’s making it very hard to sympathize with her.”

“But?”

“No, I don’t.”

A sudden rush of hope filled Y/N. She wasn’t going to be alone in this quest for saving Azula. She and Zuko had just become allies in yet another way, and while it was never going to be easy, she would at least have a companion. 

And it helped that it made Y/N feel a little less crazy about the whole thing. It was true; since her confession to the others Y/N couldn’t help but think that she might have been wrong all along. She’d rolled that thought around her brain until it became all she could think about when she was alone. With Zuko’s own admission, Y/N felt like the goal was much more attainable. 

Y/N couldn’t help the grin that grew on her face. “That’s–”

“Zuko.”

Y/N’s lips zipped shut and she turned to look at Katara. She looked between the two of them with a sour expression on her face. “Sokka needs help carrying firewood. We need a lot of it, it’s going to be cold tonight.”

Y/N knew that tone of voice. It wasn’t a question of whether he wanted to go help, it was an order for Zuko to get up and leave Y/N alone.

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” Zuko handed Y/N the tent stakes and jogged off in the direction they’d seen Sokka go when they’d landed. 

Y/N barely caught Katara leaving, walking away just quickly as she had come. Leaving it up to Y/N to get the rest of the tent set up before dinner. 

Y/N really did try and give Katara the benefit of the doubt. She’d been through a lot, and Y/N felt like she had dragged her through more by admitting that she wanted to help Azula. But it was hard to ignore some of the outright hostility she showed Zuko–and Y/N too–if she was around him.

While at one time, she had encouraged Y/N to become friends with Zuko once again, now it seemed like that was the last thing Katara wanted anymore. The flip-flopping left Y/N confused and worried. Was her newly rekindled friendship with Zuko the same thing that was dousing the friendship between her and Katara? 

----

Y/N didn’t know what was making her more queasy. What had happened at dinner with Katara, or the fact that she and Sokka were currently spreading out blankets in his tent, for both of them to sleep on. It was so...private. 

“What do you think was going on with Katara at dinner? She was all–I don’t know–pouty. And then Zuko? Running after her?”

Y/N sat down and crossed her legs, fixing a corner of one of the blankets until it was perfectly straight, just hoping to give her hands something to do before giving a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not sure.” 

Zuko had shared a look with Y/N before he got up to follow Katara to the coastline, like they were in on something together. However, she was completely in the dark. Mostly. Well, Y/N was smart enough to make a guess. 

Sokka cocked his head to the side and sat down across from her. “I think you know more than you’re letting on.”

Y/N furrowed her brows. “Maybe. I’m just guessing.”

“Then what’s your guess?”

“Katara is mad about something.”

“Well yeah, obviously,” Sokka scoffed.

“But Zuko hasn’t done anything recently for her to be mad at. So it’s either a long held grudge from Zuko’s ‘hunting the Avatar’ days, or something new is making her mad.” 

“Like what?”

Y/N looked away. “I think she’s mad at me.”

“You? For what?”

Y/N leaned back on her hands, fisting them in the blankets before letting them go. “Come on, you know what.”

“I thought we all were past that?”

“Maybe she’s not.”

Suddenly the opening of the tent was pushed aside and someone came barreling in, stepping on Y/N’s left hand in the process.

“Ow!”

“Sokka, I need to–” Zuko stopped and looked down. “Sorry, Y/N…?” 

His voice trailed off as his eyes bounced from Y/N to Sokka to the blankets spread neatly across the spanse of the tent, all illuminated by one single lantern on the floor. 

Zuko’s cheeks grew pink. “Sorry, I didn’t know... I didn’t mean to interrupt, I–”

Y/N felt her own cheeks heat up as she realized what Zuko was implying, the flush spreading all the way down her neck. “No! You weren’t interrupting anything!!”

“It’s just the way the blankets are all–”

Sokka let out a strangled noise. “Nothing was gonna happen!!”

“Okay!” Zuko crossed his arms across his chest tightly. 

“Okay,” Y/N repeated. She folded her hands in her lap and stared at her thumbnails, unable to meet either boys’ eyes. All three of them were quiet, still cringing over the embarrassment that had just happened. 

Sokka cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, Zuko, you needed something?”

“Uh, yeah.” He sat down next to Y/N. “It’s about your mom.”

Y/N’s head snapped up. What she knew about Sokka and Katara’s mom was little to none. She knew that she had been killed in a Fire Nation raid when both of them were younger, but that was the extent of Y/N’s knowledge. Neither sibling liked to talk about her in detail, and Y/N didn’t pry.

“Do you want me to…?” Y/N nodded her head towards the tent flaps, unsure whether this was a private conversation. She looked between the boys, waiting for an answer. 

Sokka shook his head. “No, it’s okay.” Already his brows furrowed deeply. He chewed absently on his lip before saying, “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about the day she died.”

Y/N glowered at Zuko, wanting to reach out and punch him in the arm for asking about something so sensitive. 

“I don’t like to think about it,” Sokka’s eyes had a far away look in them, like he wasn’t seeing Y/N and Zuko in front of him, but was imagining the way the tundra looked on the day his mother died all those years ago. “I was nine, Katara was eight. We were out playing in the snow with Mom and Dad when the ash began to fall…”

----

Sokka’s story had lasted long into the night, and overall left Y/N with more questions than answers. Of course they were questions that no one could answer for her. No one could explain what was going through that man’s head when he decided that Kya’s life was worth less than his. No one could explain the greater complexities that were behind the Fire Nation’s decimation of other cultures, not in a satisfying way that would help Y/N ever understand. Because that was that; she would never understand–the fear factor, the sense of power that came from knocking one culture aside to make way for your own. (Why would you destroy when you could cultivate and grow and learn from each other? She had learned so much about that in the past few months.)

And all of those thoughts made it hard to sleep. There were too many things going through Y/N’s head as she watched Sokka’s chest move up and down with each rhythmic breath. Furthermore, she knew that Zuko wouldn’t have asked for the story if he didn’t already have plans made for what he was going to do about it, and that did not sit well with Y/N.

----

And she was proven right, the next morning after a few hours of sleep when Katara marched up to her, Aang and Sokka asking to borrow Appa. 

“Why do you need to borrow Appa?” Aang asked with a smile. It slowly faded into a frown as he looked between Katara and Zuko. “What’s going on guys?”

Katara squared her shoulders, steeling herself like she was about to get into a fight. “Zuko knows who killed my mother.”

At that moment, Y/N’s ears started ringing. She frowned at Zuko, who just shook his head and frowned back at her. She should have known that any question he asked last night had an ulterior motive. This was his brilliant plan to make Katara like him??

Without warning, Katara stole Y/N’s attention back. 

“Y/N, you’ll come with me won’t you?”

The older girl looked over and caught Katara’s gaze. “Huh?”

Katara looked down at Y/N hopefully. “I don’t care if Zuko comes, but I want you to. I need you.”

Y/N blinked at her. There were a lot of things that she wanted to say but the words just seemed to tangle around her mouth. She’d open her mouth to say one thing but snap it shut immediately for something else. Finally with a quick shake of her head she blurted out, “No.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to watch you hunt someone down and kill them.” The words left a bad taste in Y/N’s mouth. They were all too familiar to her. And the mere thought of doing that…

“I need this. I can’t just forget about him now that I know he’s still out there. I can’t just let it go!”

“I wouldn’t expect you to forget it,” Y/N replied slowly as she stared at Katara’s shaking hands. 

“So help me.”

“No. And if you want me to be real honest, I don’t think that either of you should be going!” Y/N sent a very pointed look to Zuko. What is this really about? She wanted to ask him. “Revenge is not going to fix how you feel, Katara.”

“How would you know?”

“I just do.”

“Well you’re wrong. This man is a monster. He deserves it.” 

“But you don’t need to be the one doing it.”

“Katara,” Y/N doesn’t have to look at Aang to know he’s sad. It comes through in his voice, clear like bells. “I understand how you–”

“Stop.” Katara’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “If you’re going to tell me not to go then you don’t understand either.” 

“I do understand! How do you think I felt when the sandbenders took Appa, or when I woke up and found out what happened to my people?! Doing this out of revenge is not right and you know it.” Aang was standing now, a divot punctuating between his eyebrows as he frowned at Katara. 

“You’re both wrong,” Zuko murmured. He was so quiet during the whole exchange, Y/N nearly forgot he was there. “This is about closure and justice.”

“Katara, please,” Sokka spoke up from behind Y/N. He too had stayed quiet for most of the conversation. Y/N wondered if he had an idea that this was going to happen after Zuko came to talk to him too. “She was my mother too, but this isn’t right.”

“Then you didn’t love her like I did.” It felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed over Y/N’s body. She jerked at Katara’s words, even though they weren't aimed at her. In one foul swoop Y/N wanted to scream at Katara for saying something so hurtful to her brother and simultaneously pledge to do everything in her power to make the man who killed their mother pay for his crimes. However, Y/N didn’t have time to do either, because while she was still thinking of which was the better option, Katara spun around on her heel and stomped away, not unlike a child having a tantrum.

----

Y/N huddled between Sokka and Aang behind one of the large rocks surrounding their camp, watching as Katara and Zuko, dressed in black, loaded Appa with supplies. Her mind drifted to how cozy Toph and Suki probably were as they slept peacefully around the campfire. The wind bit through her clothes and Y/N shivered involuntarily. She knew that the point of staying up, waiting for Katara and Zuko to sneak away, was to once again try and convince Katara that this wasn’t the right thing to do. Aang thought that confronting them again would somehow bring Katara to her senses, except–this was Katara acting with her senses. As angry as she could get, she never forgot to plan, she wasn’t acting on a whim anymore.

Y/N didn’t know if she could say anything to convince Katara to stay that Aang and Sokka hadn’t already tried; Katara had shown her hand already and her mind was hard to change once it was set on something. 

The three of them stepped out, just as Zuko and Katara were leaving. Y/N made a beeline to Katara. 

 “Please, Katara, listen to me.” Y/N kept her voice low, quiet enough that it was just for the two of them, and tugged on the girl’s sleeve childishly. 

“No.” Katara didn’t have the same idea, her voice was strong and clear and it rang out loudly. Despite this, she still stopped and let Y/N reach to grip her wrist. She could feel Katara’s rapid pulse through her sweater. 

Y/N shivered and crossed her arms across her chest, as if it would hide the gaping wound in between her ribs. The hurt that came from watching her friend choose the wrong path. It was a familiar pain.  

“You told me once that you can’t just wish feelings away. You think by killing him it’s going to make things right. It won’t. You’ll feel better for a moment; a fraction of a second while his life is in your hands and then you’re going to regret it. The moment will pass and you’ll see what you’ve done. You’re strong but that’s not the kind of person you are, nor the kind of person you’ll ever be. 

“Maybe that’s just you.” 

The words stung. It wasn’t even meant to be a particularly hateful comment but Y/N couldn’t help but feel hurt over it. 

She felt numb as she watched Katara climb onto Appa and fly away into the dark. 

----

Something about the dark of camp and the unsettling feeling of having their group suddenly minus three made it hard for Y/N to find sleep. And when she did, it wasn’t peaceful. It had been a long time since Y/N had had a nightmare so realistic. She could still feel blood on her hands–

She sat straight up out of her sleep, kicking at the blankets that were tangled in a sweaty mess around her legs. 

Her eyes took a moment to adjust as she looked around. Sokka’s tent was much darker than it was when they slept outside, the canvas blocking out the natural light from the moon and stars and a dying campfire–and it was warmer too–under all those blankets. 

Then, Y/N realized a majority of the heat was radiating from Sokka next to her. His arm was still around her, knocked from her waist to the tops of her thighs when she sat up. 

He was sleeping on his stomach, his face buried in his pillow–with one half open eye staring at her. “Lay down, is’okay.” He patted her leg with his hand and rolled to his side, both of his eyes closed now. 

Y/N did lay down, even though her heart was pounding and everything within her told her she needed to run, to do something instead of staying here like a sitting duck. 

She clutched her hands in fists, focusing on her breathing, which was still shaky. She stayed rigid, flat on her back–the easiest position to get up and defend from. 

Despite this, Sokka snuggled closer, pressing his nose into her shoulder and wrapping his arm back to where it was across her waist, his hand splaying out across Y/N’s stomach comfortingly. Her shirt had shifted in the night, and his pinky brushed bare skin, leaving Y/N the feeling of butterflies, though she didn’t really mind. 

She was falling asleep now, her tiredness overwhelming her sense of danger, and through that haze she could feel Sokka’s hand move, pulling her shirt further down and covering the bare skin he was once touching. And back was the warmth of his hand, resting protectively over her abdomen. 

----

It had been Sokka’s idea to go out and have a picnic. Only after days of moping between the two of them did he come up with the thought. Though, it might have been spurred by the constant bickering between Y/N and Toph, usually only stopped by Katara’s sharp tongue. What usually started out by harmless banter ended with Y/N half-covered in mud and Toph dangerously close to what Y/N called an “impromptu haircut”.  

It would have been a nice time for relaxation for both of them had they not been so worried for Zuko and Katara who were off Agni knows where, doing Agni knows what. Neither of them meant to, but their minds were in different places instead of here with one another. It had already been a few days since they had left, and their absence was being felt by everyone at camp. 

Y/N dragged her hand through the cool grass and watched Sokka for a minute; wanting to lengthen their time out here, away from the chaos of their lives. She followed his gaze down to the town–their perch on the highest hill around had been strategic, but it provided a nice view too. Y/N noticed that Sokka wasn’t really looking at the houses and stores below, more like looking through them. He was off in his own world, worrying at the inside of his cheek with his teeth. 

She didn’t always get the chance to stare so candidly at him while he was distracted. His hair had gotten longer on the sides but he never made any notion to shave it back down. Y/N kind of liked the scruffy look. Her gaze followed down his cheekbone to his eyes–which were still trained straight ahead. As he blinked, Y/N wrinkled her nose in jealousy; there was no need for him to have eyelashes so long and thick. 

He could have been thinking about anything, a new invention, the slightly muggy air, the sour fruit—but if the pout on his lip was indication, Y/N knew what was on his mind. 

She popped a quartered persimmon in her mouth before speaking. “Maybe we should try this again another day.” 

Sokka grunted and didn’t look back. Y/N chuckled and pulled up a piece of grass, tickling Sokka’s cheek with it. “Did you hear me?”

He jumped and looked back at her guiltily. “Sorry, what?”

“We should try to have a picnic again on a different day,” Y/N smiled softly.

“That sounds like a good plan.” 

On their way back to camp, they walked close, bumping shoulders every time their steps unsynced. They hadn’t strayed too far; their camp was just half a mile down the hill and to the coastline, but it was far enough so that they could be alone. 

Y/N was happy to see that Sokka’s mood had changed for the better since moving off the hill. She reached down and linked her pinky with his. It was much too hot to be holding sweaty hands. 

“Tell me–” Sokka started.

“Hmm?”

“–what happened back there at the temple? If you want...” Sokka quickly added, holding his free hand up to show he meant no harm.

Y/N had to think back, even though it was only a few days beforehand it seemed so distant in her memory. Maybe even a little hazy, like she wasn’t really present when she had done it. That might have been more than just an explanation, she barely remembered jumping up from the ground, just one minute she was sitting next to Sokka and the next she was holding her sword ready to fight. Y/N couldn’t recreate the exact feelings she was having either, but it made her fists clench involuntarily, like she was trying to push away whatever it would bring. 

Finally after a moment of silence, she spoke, but it didn’t offer much of an answer to what Sokka was asking. “I don’t know. I just had a really bad feeling, is all. I heard Toph say that and I just acted.” Y/N chewed on her lip and shivered despite the sweltering heat. She felt worn out like her body had just had a massive adrenaline rush and she was fading now. 

Sokka noticed this. “You didn’t have to tell me if thinking about it bothers you.”

Y/N looked at him and then snorted through her nose. “You asked me to be more open with my feelings.”

Sokka rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled slightly. “Yeah, but not if it distresses you. I just wanted you to know I’d be there for you.”

“It doesn’t distress me...that much.” she added when Sokka gave her a very pointed look. He didn’t say anything but he clearly didn’t believe her. 

“So I’m a little bit on edge, that’s not a bad thing!” Y/N rolled her eyes. 

“It is when you aren’t getting sleep.” 

“I am getting just enough sleep to keep me going.”

“I’m not saying we need to be enjoying our life on the run, but you could act like you aren’t waiting for imminent danger every second of every day.”

“If I didn’t, then who would?” Y/N grumbled. 

“We all protect one another.” 

“Yeah..”

Sokka hummed and cocked his head, a wistful smile flitting across his face. “Sounds like you don’t really believe me.” 

“I just… anytime we have time to breathe is when something bad happens. I am just anticipating it before it comes so it doesn’t catch me off guard. I’m doing that for all of us.” 

“That is no way to live.” 

“This—” Y/N gestured around herself wildly. “—is no way to live.” 

“I know.” 

“And Katara, don’t even get me started on that mess. I can’t protect her when she leaves.” 

Sokka shook his head. “Katara doesn’t need protection.” 

“Well obviously I know that. Neither do you or Zuko or anyone else, but it still makes me feel better if I was standing next to you if someone came after us.”

“You don’t...have to be self-sacrificing.” 

Y/N bit her tongue to keep herself from replying. What would she say to him anyways? Maybe Y/N’s actions were more see-through than she thought. 

It was disappointing to hear, probably just as much as it was for Sokka to say it. She didn’t think of herself like that, but that’s how she felt wasn’t it? Like her life meant a little bit less than everyone else’s because of her past crimes? That if she had it her way she’d do everything and anything in her power to make sure that no one else suffered, even at her own expense? 

Protection. It felt like that was all she was good for. She wasn’t a planner, or a bender, or a leader, but she was tough and Y/N liked to think she was more than capable. A fighter was what she had to be, because there were no other slots that needed to be filled; she would just have to make her own. 

Y/N was tired. And it was more than just physically. Sokka had been correct in saying that she hadn’t been getting enough sleep but it wasn’t like she could force herself to sleep when her brain never stopped screaming, Danger!

It was a relief to see a familiar shaggy beast at camp. It drew the conversation away from things she really didn’t feel like discussing.

“Look, they’re back.” Y/N nodded her head at Appa, who was munching on hay and receiving loving chin scratches from Aang. 

Appa gave a lowly bellow when he saw Y/N and Sokka approaching, which called Aang’s attention to them. 

Y/N was surprised to see a happy grin on his face. “Hey guys!” 

“Hey, buddy,” Sokka murmured as he patted Appa’s snout. 

Aang walked around Sokka and nudged Y/N’s elbow. “Katara is down by the water. You should go see her!”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Sure.” She passed over the basket full of fruit and pastries that she and Sokka didn’t finish. “Go ahead and pass them out to everyone, yeah?”

As she passed by Sokka he gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, which she returned with a grateful smile.

----

Y/N found Katara sitting at the end of the boat dock, swinging her feet just inches above the water line. The wooden slats below her creaked with each step she took. She stood behind Katara, waiting for the other girl to acknowledge her presence.

“I didn’t realize that I was mad at you until you didn’t want to come with me.” Katara turned around and smiled sheepishly at Y/N. 

“Can I sit next to you?”

Katara patted the wood next to her and stared back out to the water. 

“I’m sorry for treating you so badly.”

Y/N nodded numbly. “It’s okay.”

“It wasn’t.”

“We’ve all said mean things to one another,” Y/N said with a shrug. “While you were gone I told Toph I’d cut off her feet if she tried to stick them in my lap again.”

Katara chuckled. “Seems like I missed a lot.”

Their talk faded into silence as they listened to the waves lap against the shoreline. 

“I was worried you’d leave again.” 

Y/N blinked at Katara. What did she just say?

Katara seemed to sense Y/N’s confusion and continued. “Whenever I saw you with Zuko, always whispering to yourselves like you were keeping secrets, I thought you two were going to leave us.” 

“We would never do that,” Y/N said, incredulously.

“I know that now,” Katara looked away with a shy smile. “I might have interrogated Zuko about it to find that out though. I didn’t want you to become lost again.” 

“Lost?”

Katara paused, weighing her words. “We’re the same. You let your heart rule your head. All logical reason leaves you when you want something done. So I know when you need someone to watch out for you.”

And for the first time ever, Y/N felt fire in her chest. This is how Firebenders must feel all the time, Y/N thought.

That fierce loyalty and protectiveness that Katara waved in the face of adversity, that was for Y/N too. Not that it was ever doubted, but now Y/N could see it; feel it. What Sokka said was true, they all looked after each other. 

But Katara wasn’t even looking at the tears shining in Y/N’s eyes. “That’s all you were doing for me too. 

Besides, it wasn’t all I blamed him for either. He was just the easiest target. And forgiving him; it was easier than I thought it would be. Once I realized that I was blaming him, and maybe you, for something you didn’t do.”

“Well,” Y/N kicked her legs. “I did do something. And you have every right to be mad over it.”

“But now I know why.”

Y/N gave her a quizzical look. 

Katara picked at her wrist wraps, unwinding and winding them back as she thought of the right words to say. “My journey taught me some things along the way. Before.. I didn’t know what it was like to love someone so much that all reason leaves you. I can never understand why you did it, that’s between you and Azula. But I can empathize with you now.”

Y/N didn’t have the vocabulary to respond to that. She realized that’s all she needed from her friends. She didn’t need unconditional acceptance for her past mistakes, she just needed to know that they could still love her despite them. She couldn’t expect them to understand what Y/N couldn’t even understand. 

“I didn’t do anything, so you know,” Katara muttered.

Y/N nodded, she could have guessed as much but she knew it was important for Katara to tell her that. 

“I wanted to, so badly.” Katara’s cheeks flushed with what Y/N knew was embarrassment. “It would have been so easy, but... I couldn’t. You were right, I would have regretted it and resented myself for it. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Y/N didn’t respond to that last part. She’d always suspected that Katara knew more than she’d led Y/N to believe. They probably all did. 

“So many things happened while you were gone. You’ll have to tell me about them,” Y/N squared herself around to look Katara in the eyes. “When you’re ready.”

Katara held her gaze, “You can too.”

“I might take you up on that.” And Y/N was sure she would. Some day. 

----

A/N: you guys should like,,, come in my ask box and tell me what you like about this because i’m feeling very self-conscious about my writing since it’s been so long.

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[gemma-collins-ily]

Hello, I wanted to ask for a request with Jesper? I wanted to see him being very protective of the reader. Maybe he saves her from a fight during a job or something (like, she can handle herself just fine but ended up getting trapped by a lot of guards idk) and he comes and shoots them at last minute and is very worried because she did got hurt. Then later she can be all like "it's nothing, I'm fine" but he insists on patching her up and caring for her wounds (maybe make it a soft moment with him being all gentle and lovey with her), kinda blaming himself for her getting hurt, and maybe then confessions are made? Thank you :D

Fools In Love

a/n - yessss more Jesper appreciation! He needs more credit! It sounds a bit creepy in the beginning I'm sorry 😭 Also Jesper and the pet name lovely ugh my heart! Thanks for the request xoxo💕♥️

Warnings: knives, blood, alcohol (used for cleaning of injuries), brief mentions of nausea and not sure what else!

Partners.

That's all you were. That's what Jesper kept telling himself, at least.

But it was so strange with you - he felt so strange with you. Like he should protect you, admire you, love you, care for you whenever he could.

He felt you should always be in his heart, and you were. Some part of him, yet every part of him, was saved for you.

On the days he was truly tired, had run errand after errand, participated in a heist, anything that exhausted him, he would save just a simple smile or two for you.

Because he felt he couldn't, and shouldn't, leave you without one. He needed you to be in his life and wanted you to need him too. He wanted you to rely on the him as he would you, and most importantly, deeply desired that you could love him the way he did you.

This was not in a warped version of reality, a figment of his mind and imagination as a sick, manipulative goal, he only wanted to be loved.

By someone. Alright, anyone. Any person. Admittedly, one specific person.

He wanted to be loved by you.

Jesper knew he did, in fact, love you. And when he realised, his heart had raced, Nina looking up in alarm before seeing the lovestruck bliss upon his face.

Jesper Fahey was in love with you.

And boy, was he in trouble now.

Chaos.

You were extremely similar to Jesper in that way: the way that meant it followed you wherever you went. There was no escaping the chaos, not when you were apparently born from the very depths of it yourself and had a friend quite the same.

A friend.

That's all you were.

It sent a pang of agony rippling through your chest, possibly enough to send you to your knees, but you swiftly shook the thought away.

Focus was what was needed.

Although, it seemed so tempting to think of him, to picture his face in your mind's eye one last time. One last time before you died.

Because it had been going well. But later, there was a high chance of fatality. But, you decided to do what you did best, instead of giving into the niggling voices that told you to remember every brush of the arm, every smile across a room, every chair he pulled out for you; instead, you decided to give into something else.

You decided, to give in to the chaos.

Your strategy was giving fairly good results, just as you had anticipated, considering it always did. Going with your gut seemed to be the best way of going about it, and it was.

Until it wasn't.

Since you were now improvising and no one appeared to be taking any notice of the shots fired, or grunts of pain heard, when even more men than previously swarmed the alley, you were taken aback.

You had not predicted how much effort the rival gang you were on a heist against would gamble on you, sending out what seemed to be the majority of their forces for just one person.

You supposed that meant whatever Kaz had up his sleeve would work fairly easily now though, the level of guard lowered and their numbers dilapidated.

He better thank me later.

Just as you flipped a man over your back, quickly and efficiently leaning down over him, your shadow looming as your hand reached for your knife that was meant to be in your belt.

"Looking for this?"

You gasped and your eyes boggled as your dagger, that the man beneath you had obviously stolen, plunged into your side, the hilt far from buried in your torso as you recovered from the shock as soon as you could find it in your abilities to.

Another knife was ripped out of a corpse beside you and burrowed in his chest, right above his heart, before he could register what was taking place.

You stood, groaning as you clasped the sore flesh surrounding your wound, not yet having pulled out the weapon to prevent further blood loss.

You spun to face the remaining gang members behind you, grimacing as you felt the bile slip upward in your throat, stubbornly rising no matter how many times you swallowed.

Now you had nothing. Nothing to defend yourself with and nothing to help you in this fight. Nothing and no one.

Dying alone was a nauseating fear, circling through your head and running rampage, sending you into a frenzied panic.

Your back hit the wall, the skin burning as it was grazed against the bricks and your heart racing as you failed to bend to the side, only a grunt sounding from your throat as your hand pressed further against your abdomen.

In that moment, you closed your eyes and prayed. Simply prayed to the Saints you had once ridiculed with Kaz, hoping there was a chance, if even just a miniscule one, that you could be saved.

And maybe Inej had been right all along, that you owed her an overdue apology, because maybe, just maybe, Saints did exist.

And perhaps, Jesper Fahey was yours.

He came barrelling around the corner, your eyes clenched tightly shut as you heard gunshots ring out, believing that moment could be your end, that heist your undoing.

But no, because when you peered through your lashes, swaying precariously on your feet, he was there.

You gaped in shock, confusion and finally, joy. You wanted to jump into his arms, tell him of your gratefulness, all because he hadn't left you alone.

Dying was no incredible feat: it happened in Ketterdam everyday, bodies piled in corners and rotting in the dank, narrow streets. To die with no one to close your eyes, only being forced to gaze glassily into the deep grey sky, or no friend to comfort you in your last seconds or less, even, seemed terrifying.

Although, now you wouldn't have to worry about that. Because he was here.

Jesper rushed to you, nimbly leaping over corpses and stepping around barrels or other obstructions, eyes full of concern that only grew when his line of sight landed upon your side.

You could only weakly smile as his arm was slung over your shoulders and his other was suddenly dipping below your upper leg.

"Jes, I don't need picking up!"

"Hmm... I beg to differ, darling. So do your knees apparently."

That was when you realised just how they had buckled and how much of your weight you were making him support. You sighed and gave a sheepish yet irked nod, giving consent to let him swoop you off your feet, and he did so without hesitance after he observed your approval.

He traipsed through the streets, using his knowledge of shady back alleys to keep away from crowds and even if he had swaggered down the main street, no one would have batted an eye.

Or offered help. Ketterdam was not the place for helpful neighbors or friendly coworkers, and often the inhabitants were cruel, selfish and overall generally appeared to be disappointed with their whole lives.

Go figure.

The capital of Kerch was not an actual hospitable place, but some little nooks and crannies could just squeeze you into a sort of community. You had once known a baker that had given you free whole loafs of bread, shaking you off when you tried to pay.

Your palm was still positioned flat over your wound, digging in uncomfortably and your fingers splayed slightly in the air. You didn't dare move it, not making a sound either, only letting soft whines out when Jesper shifted you in his arms, to which he would respond with an apologetic gaze, no words said.

The scratch was not life threateningly deep, just shocking, and well, frightening; it reminded you anything could happen, just one simple change of plan could kill you.

It mortalised you in a way, made you think of how easily it could all be over. Sometimes, galavanting off with the Crows, searching giddily for trinkets with Nina and Jes made you feel as though you could do anything, stay in that moment forever.

But you were human. And right then, you had a knife in your side. Maybe it would have been better to pull it out, considering now every jostle sourced from your friend's sharp steps, heels tapping forcefully on the stones, could possibly send the dagger closer to your ribcage or organs.

"Jes."

"Yes, love?"

"Pull it. Please."

It was a beg for help, and a desperate one after he had only glanced down at you as he continued walking when answering to his name.

He did as you asked, laying you down to the side for a moment. He always had, providing whatever you needed and doing what you thought was best when it came to you.

"Ready? It'll hurt, lovely."

"You're making me more stressed, just do it already!"

It was true. You had broken a sweat as he had been trying to prepare you, beads of perspiration forming on your hairline.

If you had expected another warning, he certainly surprised you by wrenching the mini sword out of your side without anything else said. You cried out, gasping like a fish out of water and feeling just so, the crusting of the aging blood aiding that.

"I know, I know. Just give me a sec, okay? It'll be fine."

Jesper continued to mutter reassurances as he wrapped your scarf around your lower back and torso. The hardest part was when you had to lift your hips and rotate your body slightly so his slender fingers could grasp the other end of the garment to tie it together fully.

"I know. It's okay, yeah? It's fine."

He was in now way immature but his voice was definitely becoming higher and squeakier in fear: the tell tale lurching of his stomach appeared as he accidentally took a glance at the deep crimson blossoming over the scarf and staining his hands, managing to seep into the creases of his palms, depositing itself under his previously pristine nails and cuticles.

You could tell he was worried as he picked you up once more, yelping out a 'sorry' when his wrist brushed your blazing, sensitive flesh.

It was a troublesome trip to return to the Slat, Jesper aggravating the cut when he shifted to prevent you from slipping downward.

Once you were there however, you were adamant you could treat your injuries yourself, only really having a few minor scrapes and bruises, especially a sort of natural eyeshadow in the form of a black eye that had not fully appeared, yet was still already prominent.

You practically tumbled out of Jesper's arms, limping up the stairs to your room while the Zemeni followed closely behind you, a hand on the small of your back to support you while you found your balance, ticklish tingles spreading from the spot his fingertips made contact with your shoulder blades.

"Jes, I really don't need help, like, at all. Just let me-"

You were cut off as he pulled the alcohol out of your grasp, grinning in that charming way only he could pull off, only serving to irritate you further as he winked.

"Sure you don't. It's just that I can help. And I will, alright? I don't care if you don't agree, it's happening."

With that, the scarf was gently pulled from your skin, a hiss drawn from you as the rag he had tipped the alcohol onto touched your side. You forced yourself to control a flinch, only shying away a little as his unoccupied hand came absentmindedly and immediately to your unharmed side, pushing you back to have the cloth back on your skin, scooting you along the desk you were perched on.

"Just a bit more. I promise, darling."

You nodded, gritting your teeth against the pain until it subsided, choosing to focus on the warm and calloused hand resting on your other side, not yet removed.

"Alright, now it's only the little things."

Your mouth opened to protest, explain you could easily do that yourself, but Jesper only tutted under his breath and used two fingers to close your jaw and tilt your head simultaneously to observe the shiner decorating your eye.

"None of that. Now, all we've got is this, which I can't do much about, and that nasty gash on your arm."

He didn't think about what he was doing, how casually and carefully he was caring for you, as though you were a china doll, porcelain and fractured, broken with any move that was not delicate.

You didn't think about how much you enjoyed someone looking after you for once, taking such a chunk of his time to simply stand between your legs and help.

Suddenly, as you pouted and your bottom lip was drawn between your teeth, withholding a groan while he cleansed your upper forearm, his thumb came up to untuck your lip, barely ghosting over it, although the feeling was still so delicious. Tantalising.

And his arm dropped, cloth soaked with a random drink dropping to the rug as his gaze stayed on your lips. And he leant in, as did you, finally sharing a sweet kiss, tender and loving, all things beautiful and wondrous.

His stare burned into the floor as it drew downward, a murmur heard drifting through the air a few seconds later, "You know, I was so worried about you?" You moved to speak before he hushed you, "No, just let me... I'm saying, I was more concerned than a friend probably should have been. Maybe, I mean I don't know. Actually nevermind..."

But he never had a chance to finish as his locks of chocolate brown were swept away from his forehead, a kiss planted there in replacement.

"I'd love to go out with you, Jes, love. Or, I mean, whatever you want to do..."

Chuckles filled the room pleasantly as you both laughed together, cheeks flushed and lips almost swollen, at your embarrassment and haplessness, plus the lack of tact.

You supposed you were just fools in love. And in that moment, you wanted to be suspended there, floating forever.

With him.

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 6

A/N: seeing y'all freak out over the last chapter when i have the outline and i know that things get worse... it feels me with evil glee. also vyeoh drew some amazing art of the last chapter, show them some love!! <3

Warnings: crying, hugging, arguing, threats of violence, heartbreak

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

Jimmy still felt like he was in a daze when they made it back to his empire. Lizzie hadn’t let go of his hand once, and he was grateful for the grounding touch. She was still murmuring words of comfort and asking what happened, but Jimmy could only nod numbly. Every single thought and feeling he had of Scott felt tainted now. Was anything he had felt even real? Or did Jimmy just fall right for Scott’s plan (whatever it was) hook, line, and sinker. Just thinking about it made Jimmy feel nauseous.

Katherine and Joel landed beside Jimmy and Lizzie, and Katherine looking equally as distraught as Jimmy felt shook him out of his stupor slightly. Wordlessly he let go of Lizzie’s hand to pull Katherine into a hug. He held her tight as she hugged him back, crying into his shoulder.

“It’s gone. It’s all gone. There’s barely anything left of my castle,” she hiccuped. Jimmy didn’t know what to say as he held her, but gently rubbing her back seemed to help.

“Fwhip was plotting against the House Blossom Alliance the whole time, Sausage too. I think Gem, Pearl, and Scott were involved as well,” Joel explained. Jimmy just about shuddered at the mention of Scott, trying not to cry.

“Why would they do that?!” Lizzie gasped.

“Fwhip said something about how the alliance was too argumentative, and should be destroyed before anything worse could happen and bring down our empires,” Joel explained. Katherine let out another hiccupping sob at Joel’s words, and Jimmy murmured words of comfort to her. Then he looked up to the skies, and his heart froze. Three figures were flying towards them- one with elytra, one with bright yellow feathered wings, and one with white feathered wings tipped in gold. Joel noticed Gem, Pearl, and Scott in the air as well, and grit his teeth as he put a hand on the hilt of his sword. Lizzie rushed over and put a hand over Joel’s, shaking her head.

“Stay on guard, but let’s hear them out. We only know that Fwhip and Sausage were the masterminds behind this. But if they are here for trouble, we’ll make sure they regret it,” Lizzie said, tone going dark at the end of her statement. Joel hesitated for a moment or two, but dropped his hand from his sword with a frustrated sigh. He and Lizzie did, however, stand protectively in front of Jimmy and Katherine as Gem, Pearl, and Scott came to a landing in front of them. Jimmy let go of Katherine, but she didn’t go far, taking his hand and gripping it tightly.

“I know we’re not high on your list of people to see, but hear us out. We didn’t know that Fwhip was going to take such… drastic measures,” Pearl explained, hands up placatingly as her wings fluttered anxiously.

“But you did know Fwhip was up to something,” Joel countered.

“We knew he wasn’t super happy about the House Blossom Alliance, but we thought that he would just pull a harmless prank or pick a fight with Jimmy or something. Not destroy Katherine’s castle,” Gem continued, Pearl nodding along with her. Scott stayed suspiciously quiet, and Jimmy’s mouth settled into a firm line as he let go of Katherine’s hand.

“But Scott knew. Didn’t you,” he accused, glaring at Scott. His expression immediately turned guilty, and that was all the confirmation Jimmy needed.

“I wanted to tell you, really! But-”

“But you kissed me instead of telling me or ANYONE about Fwhip’s plan!” Jimmy shouted, stepping forward and gesturing angrily, that cold numb feeling from before now replaced with molten fury. Lizzie gasped, drawing her sword and fully intending to lunge at Scott, but Joel quickly scrambled over to hold her back.

“Joel, let go of me, I need to give Scott a piece of my mind for taking advantage of our sweet swamp boy’s heart!” Lizzie fumed, straining against Joel’s hold. Joel glared at Scott, but his grip on Lizzie didn’t let up.

“Scott, you better have an explanation for this, or I will let my wife loose on you,” Joel warned. Scott actually looked a little terrified, and part of Jimmy hated the fact that he was relieved at that.

“I should have warned people about the TNT, I know. I just- it was stupid of me to hope that Fwhip was going to change his mind. And I was going to tell Jimmy, but then I saw Fwhip in the distance, and he had his crossbow aimed at him. I- I figured that Fwhip wouldn’t take the shot if it meant hitting me too. So that’s why I kissed Jimmy, and by that point it was too late to warn anyone,” Scott explained, his expression pleading and apologetic. Joel and Lizzie seemed to accept his explanation, as Joel let go of Lizzie and she sheathed her sword- but they both still glared at him. And Jimmy wanted to believe him, wanted to say he forgave Scott and rush back into his arms again- but there was something else that bothered him.

“What did Fwhip mean, when he said something about ‘playing the part?’” Jimmy asked, absolutely terrified of the answer but needing to know the truth anyway. Scott swallowed nervously, expression overcome with guilt once more.

“Fwhip told me to keep an eye on you, make sure you wouldn’t be a problem. It wasn’t just Katherine goading me into being nice that kept me coming to your empire, at first. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t-”

“Leave,” Jimmy growled, having enough of Scott’s excuses. Scott flinched at Jimmy’s tone. Good, it was about time people stopped seeing him as the sweet swamp boy or the friendly Codfather. He was done being pushed around, done being used and tossed aside.

“Jimmy, please- believe me, I really do care-”

“I don’t wanna hear it! I’m sick of your lies and manipulation! I never want you to set foot in the Cod Empire again, if I ever even SEE you again I will make sure you regret it,” Jimmy shouted, the words fracturing his heart into a million pieces. But he couldn’t afford to trust Scott ever again.

“Jimmy…” Scott trailed off, any fight finally leaving him as his wings drooped. His gaze shifted between Jimmy’s angry glare, the tears on Katherine’s face, the glares from Lizzie and Joel, and the sympathetic and apologetic expressions on Gem and Pearl’s faces. He looked back at Jimmy one last time, eyes glassy- before taking off into the night sky. Jimmy couldn’t even watch him leave.

“We truly are sorry for everything that happened. We know it doesn’t make up for it… but we wish you the best, Codfather and allies,” Gem said softly, before taking off into the sky as well. Pearl gave them a weak smile before following Gem. Jimmy waited until he could no longer see either of them in the sky, and finally let himself cry, falling to his knees as ugly sobs wrenched their way out of his throat. Lizzie scrambled to his side, pulling him into a hug and letting Jimmy cry into her shoulder.

“It’s okay, let it out. I’ve got you,” she soothed.

“He tricked me. And like a fool I fell for it, I fell for him,” Jimmy said between sobs, desperately clutching at Lizzie. Joel came over to kneel at their side, pulling both of them into his arms and rubbing Jimmy’s back. Katherine joined the hug pile too, on the opposite side of Joel. Jimmy wasn’t sure how long the three of them all stayed there with him, but they all held him until he finally had no tears left to cry.

-

After Jimmy had finished crying, Lizzie gently prodded him into changing, insisting that he would feel better in his normal clothes. She was right, and a lot of the tension drained from his shoulders once his trusty cod head was back on his head. From there, Lizzie and Joel brought him and Katherine to Lizzie’s empire, saying that Katherine could stay in the embassy she built, and that neither of them wanted either one to be alone at the moment. Katherine and Jimmy didn’t argue, neither of them wanted to be alone either. So they ended up huddled together in Katherine’s embassy, a borrowed blanket from Lizzie over both of their shoulders. Lizzie stayed with them and made sure they were comfortable, while Joel flew to Pixandria to update Pixl on everything that had happened.

“This is all my fault,” Katherine said numbly, after a long silence. Jimmy and Lizzie looked at her in confusion.

“It’s really not, you didn’t blow up your own castle, after all,” Lizzie pointed out. Katherine smiled weakly, shaking her head.

“But none of this would have happened if I didn’t insist on making friends with everyone. Everyone would have been fine if I just stayed out of it and stopped trying to bring people together,” Katherine said, voice watery.

“Katherine, if you hadn’t tried to bring us all together, I’m sure much worse would have happened. Who knows how many empires would have been destroyed if it wasn’t for you,” Jimmy countered softly. Katherine let out a small sob, hand clasping over her mouth as she tried to collect herself.

“But if I hadn’t started those meetings, pushed you and Scott to be nice to each other- then you wouldn’t have to be feeling this way,” Katherine said, voice as fragile as glass when she dropped her hand from her mouth. Jimmy shifted to face her, gently gripping her shoulders and looking Katherine in the eyes.

“Katherine, listen to me. My- my heartbreak is not your fault. None of what is happening is your fault. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Fwhip. You hear me?” Jimmy asked, voice gentle but no less serious. Katherine’s eyes went wide.

“You’re heartbroken?” she asked in a shallow gasp. Jimmy gave her a sad smile, throat growing tight as he felt his eyes watering again- funny, he thought he had run out of tears.

“I learned what love was, only for it to get crushed barely a day or two after. So… yeah. I think I am. But that still doesn’t make it your fault,” Jimmy said, tone forlorn before it turned gentle and serious once more. Katherine let out a shaky sigh, nodding her head.

“Okay. Okay. I’m still sorry you’re feeling this way, though,” Katherine said softly. Jimmy just smiled, pulling Katherine into a hug.

“So what’s our next step? Plotting our revenge on Fwhip?” Lizzie asked, and Jimmy couldn’t help but chuckle at her casual ruthlessness.

“I think before we do anything revenge-related, we should help Katherine rebuild her castle,” Jimmy replied, frankly not wanting to think about getting revenge on Fwhip, because that would likely lead to getting revenge on Scott as well. And Jimmy definitely didn’t want to think about Scott at the moment.

“I don’t know if you’re the best person to help me build,” Katherine teased lightly. Jimmy gave her a weak smile in response.

“I think I’ll be able to manage if you’re guiding me,” he replied softly.

“I would definitely appreciate the help,” she said with a smile, and it was the first time Jimmy had seen her smile, truly smile since the ball.

“Then I’ll help, mediocre building skills or not,” Jimmy insisted, glad to have something to look forward to so he could think about anything other than Scott. He was done with him, no matter what his traitorous heart thought about his sunshine smile, his laugh of gold, or those icy blue eyes that contradicted them both. So much about Scott felt like a contradiction, now. He snarled and teased and jabbed, but there was a hidden fondness too, or at least it seemed like there was. Jimmy wasn’t sure if it was ever real to begin with. Then there was how he sided with Fwhip, even though Katherine was his true ally, a business partner too. Nothing made sense, and Jimmy wondered if he should have let Scott explain- no. Jimmy was never going to give Scott a chance to use that silver tongue on him again, paired with a smile that was only gold-plated. He wouldn’t be hurt again.

-

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[thefirstknife]

Iron Lord Saladin Forge

Season of the Lost dropped some major lore about Saladin and I love every piece of it so I will make a huge post detailing stuff about and what's important.

The lore is on Iron Banner armour which you can see in-game when you go to the armour section. The lore is the same on each class so it doesn't matter which one you read. It's in the order of how armour is set, so helmet -> arm piece -> chest piece -> leg piece -> class item. There's some extras on Iron banner weapons that I'll add as well.

The rest under the cut due to length and also spoilers!

I'll link to the Hunter gear because I'm a dirty Hunter main and I read it from there and that's what I have open because I couldn't remember the names for other two classes, but the lore is the same on all of them. The set is called Iron Forerunner.

We haven't really had any substantial Saladin lore in D2 besides few lore pieces from Chosen and Splicer. Not nearly enough I think, especially since he wasn't properly introduced in D2 at all and it was kinda assumed that everyone would know about him from the Rise of Iron expansion in D1. He had plenty of voice lines, but with no real context. His voice lines in Season of the Chosen were interesting, but also made a lot of people think he's a bad person and a warmongering coward who sat on his butt during the Red War and was then preaching action for action's sake.

The situation is obviously more complex, but I've always said that it's Bungie fault for not explaining more about him prior to his involvement in the Season of the Chosen. Well, now we got some really interesting information at last!

Anyway, helmet first!

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We threw ourselves on the blades of tyranny so others may live free." —Lord Saladin

This is referencing the Iron Lords' fight against the Warlords in the Dark Age. Saladin is heavily influenced by his time in the Dark Age. It seems like some really old Guardians never get over the trauma of living through that (Drifter is another example). Side note: this could also be referencing the battle against SIVA since Rasputin is also known as "The Tyrant." It's not fully relevant tho, as Saladin was equally affected by both periods in his life.

This first entry details something we don't really think about when it comes to Guardians: death. It's a temporary thing with them so it doesn't really matter. But Saladin recounts how he remembers his deaths and how each one felt. Despite the fact that he will be brought back, the pain and struggle of dying are very real. There is also the associated trauma of the realisation that you will go through this over and over and over:

He laughed when his Ghost reassembled him. Then, he cried.

It's not something mentioned often, and definitely wasn't a point raised with Saladin. It gives some context to how seriously he takes combat, training and the lives of his fellow Guardians.

Saladin remembers the day he stopped counting deaths. "Something about you is different," Jolder had said, and put her hand on his.

This explains that his worldview of the role of Lightbearers changed the moment he was invited to become an Iron Lord. It's also important to remember that he loved Lady Jolder very much (in whichever way you want to interpret it) and that watching her make the choice to die a final death has had a heavy impact on him.

Saladin remembers all this and more when he looks at the Crow. He feels rage form a hot pit in his belly when Osiris tells him about the young Lightbearer's suffering at the hands of his fellow Guardians. Osiris asks him if he can keep a secret.

"I don't like secrets," Saladin says, and that's the end of it.

Saladin doesn't really say this during Chosen and his interactions with Crow, but it's evident from this that he cares deeply about the young Light who suffered in ways Saladin only remembers people suffering during the Dark Age. It's also important to note that the Osiris he speaks to here is Savathun. Saladin seems to be uniquely unaffected by Savathun's schemes. This will repeat itself again later.

Second, arms piece.

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We were forged in the fires of a burning world." —Lord Saladin

Same thing as before. Referencing the post-Collapse Dark Age. The lore tab details a really tragic story of the Iron Lords burying bodies, including the implication of Saladin burying the body of a child. He recalls that these people were victims of Fallen Raiders.

"It's a vicious circle," Efrideet had said as she tied off a funeral shroud with great care. Saladin remembers the bundle being very small. "One day, I'm going to break it."

Saladin remembers how easily the body fit in his arms, how light it felt as he laid it in the grave. He remembers, with shame, pretending not to hear Efrideet's words so he wouldn't need to respond to them.

He remembers not having anything kind to say.

He obviously regrets not having a stronger stance on this in the past. Where Efrideet seems to have always been keen on ending the cycle of violence, he clearly thought differently and is now ashamed of it. This transitions into more about his relation to Crow:

Saladin remembers all this and more whenever the Crow talks back to him. Sometimes, he bites down on the inside of his cheek. Sometimes, he looks up to find his Ghost focused on him with a knowing look.

He doesn't say anything to his Ghost either.

Because Crow was saying things that reminded him of Efrideet. Breaking the cycles of violence, extending a friendly hand, not treating everyone like an enemy. It's evident that this turmoil is still inside of him as someone who spent most of his time fighting for survival, only to be told by those younger than him that there's a way out of that war. It's a very common struggle of people dealing with trauma and specifically PTSD to not be able to imagine and/or live in a world of peace and to outright reject the possibility of peace ever existing. Saladin is very clearly dealing with that and here, we see it from his own POV: despite sometimes being harsh to Crow, there were times when he chose to say nothing because deep down he knows that Crow is right. Accepting that is a long process though.

Third, chest piece.

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We rose from the ashes of a dying world to save humanity from itself." —Lord Saladin

Same again, but this is an interesting way to phrase it. He's talking about humanity being a danger to itself, not about any external threat. Ultimately, the Traveler's gift was the first thing that harmed humanity post-Collapse, despite later being the thing that saved it.

This leads into Saladin's thoughts on the Red War, something we've been sorely missing for a very long time.

Saladin remembers losing his connection to the Light. He remembers thinking that the Traveler must have discovered his most secret doubts; the darkest thoughts he shared with no one—not even his Ghost. He remembers the strange sense of relief that had washed over him until his radio crackled to life just moments later.

His deepest secret? Probably that Light is a burden. When he lost the connection to the Light, he specifically thought it had only happened to him and then felt relief. Freedom from the eternal war he has to keep waging. I'm sure he feels incredible shame for thinking it would be better to just lose the Light and die a final death, but alas, he is bound by duty. Especially a Titan's duty.

He stands there thinking about it for a while before finally deciding to embrace that duty. And now we know what he was doing during the Red War:

"Saladin," his Ghost said again, and Saladin remembers moving. He remembers clutching his radio and rallying survivors—those strong enough to make the journey—to the Iron Temple.

It's been abbreviated as him "sitting out" the Red War because he didn't fight. Of course it was strange that the last remaining active Iron Lord did not show up to the City to fight alongside all the others, both Guardians and ordinary humans. That Lord Saladin, someone who endured so many hardships and fought so many battles since the Dark Age, hasn't come to help humanity in its time of greatest need.

But now this hits different. He didn't fight, yes. He couldn't. Losing the Light wasn't just something that made him scared (like all Lightbearers): it was something that made him scared of how he might actually enjoy dying a glorious final death. To end the trauma and the memories of all the horrors he's been through. So instead of throwing himself into a reckless death, he chose to stay in the Iron Temple and protect survivors.

So yeah, he didn't fight, but he did something equally important. The Iron Temple is an extremely well protected fortress that's very difficult to reach and breach, so any survivor he gathered was perfectly safe there until the Red War ended. Sometimes "sitting out" is more noble than fighting.

Saladin remembers all this and more whenever the Crow challenges him on his cowardice during the Red War. He wants to break the young Guardian's back to teach him a lesson about what it's like to feel helpless, but something stops him.

He remembers hearing stories about the Crow's life on the Shore before he arrived at the Tower, and does not raise a hand against him.

The lore entry ends with telling us that Saladin was clearly very agitated about Crow's teasing. But in the end, he remembered what Crow has been through and realised that Crow already knows what it's like to feel helpless. He did not need a reminder and Saladin decided to take the teasing without a response. It truly frames some of those voice lines in a different light, knowing this background.

Fourth, leg piece!

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We crossed a burning world with sword in hand, bringing justice and blood." —Lord Saladin

Once more, we are told that Saladin was mostly forged (eheh) through his experience in the Dark Age.

The lore page details a bittersweet memory Saladin has of him with his fellow Iron Lords and friends enjoying some good time over a meal and song.

He remembers Radegast asking him to sing the song taught to them by the people of the blacksmith's village, but agreeing only when Jolder and Perun promised to join in. Their voices rose like wolves in the night and were so raw by morning that none of them could speak.

This is honestly heartbreaking. Saladin being this happy and free to sing and enjoy himself: compared to how he is now. But even with that, he has retained the need to do it again sometimes, if he ever finds people to be comfortable around.

Saladin remembers all this and more when Zavala tells him Amanda has taken the Crow out to drink in the City's streets. He wonders what song they'll sing, if it's anything like the one he's heard everyone humming lately—even though he hasn't tried it himself.

I love how he projects his past joy onto the two young people and wonders if they'll do the same as he did once. Here we also get another hint about Saladin apparently not being affected by Savathun's viral chant. It might be a point relevant in the future.

Finally, class item!

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We crushed the Warlords beneath our heel so that they may never rise again." —Lord Saladin

Nothing new here. Just Saladin recounting how hard they went against the Warlords.

The rest is a very poignant lore page that details the relationship between Saladin and Zavala. Zavala studied under Saladin who was his mentor and it's been repeated often that Saladin has retained a "soft spot" for him.

Saladin remembers the first time he met Zavala. He remembers thinking that the Awoken had regal bearing like the stags he once hunted on the Steppes. His shoulders were broad, and his chin held high. When he moved, he did so with the strength and purposeful deliberation of someone with the power to determine his own place in the world.

"You'll never have a son," his Ghost had said, "but it isn't too late for you to take an apprentice."

I love when non-Awoken describe Awoken, there's always something ethereal about it. But I'm mostly putting this part here because of what Saladin's Ghost says.

First, I am incredibly soft for older Guardians adopting younger ones as kids and teaching them. Easily my favourite dynamic ever. Saladin seeing Zavala as a son makes me cry a thousand tears.

And second, is this finally a full confirmation that Guardians cannot bear children? It's kind of a strange place to put it, but it seems to be the implication. It makes sense they wouldn't be able to, but it's also nice to have some direct lore information about it in case it pops up as a question. I'm sorry if this ruins anyone's fics.

Saladin remembers their sparring matches. He remembers how Zavala always got back on his feet, no matter how many times Saladin put him down. He remembers refusing to offer the younger Lightbearer a hand up. Until the day Zavala finally bested him in combat.

He remembers lying flat on his back, left shoulder dislocated and ribs shattered, a strange pressure on his chest that made it difficult to breathe.

"Finish it," Saladin had commanded because that was the way of things. His Ghost would revive him.

Saying nothing, Zavala hauled him to his feet instead.

I love how this is placed at the end, paralleling the beginning of Saladin remembering his deaths and the pain of dying. But instead of "finishing it," Zavala pulls him back up. It's definitely something Saladin hasn't experienced before, especially not before becoming an Iron Lord, when all of his deaths were just gruesome ends to a struggle. Then seconds after, he'd be back up. He took the revival for granted, until Zavala offered him the alternative. Again, an interesting perspective about something we don't usually think about much. I do wonder how Saladin healed afterwards though.

Saladin remembers all this and more when his former apprentice calls him into his office and tells him about the face behind the Crow's mask. Zavala says he knows that Saladin doesn't like secrets; that it's unfair to ask him to keep one of this magnitude, but there will come a time when the Crow needs someone—the way Zavala needed Saladin.

"You never needed anyone," Saladin insists.

Zavala only smiles.

This page ends with the two bonding again. Despite their differences and disagreements, there's mutual respect between the mentor and the apprentice. The father and the son.

And Saladin thinks Zavala never needed him, but that is obviously not true and Zavala tells him so. He also tells him that Crow, and implied Guardians like him, will need the same guidance.

It gives us a full circle back to Saladin's musings about his purpose as a Guardian and Lightbearer. He may have doubted his place in the world before, but seeing as he's still here with us and actively participating and helping; training us through Iron Banner, helping with the Eliksni, refusing to side against the Vanguard despite the difference in opinion, now serving as Zavala's ambassador for the Cabal and easily bonding with someone he would've considered an enemy not long ago...

I think Saladin knows his place. He's one of the strongest Lightbearers and most principled among them. He is not swayed by lies and deceptions, he does not abide by them and speaks plainly. He has deeply rooted beliefs in justice and he will not compromise himself, even if it means conceding his position to make peace with a former enemy when that enemy proves their worth, honesty and good intentions to him.

He is a Guardian.

He is an Iron Lord.