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pascaloverx · 7 months

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Hit The Road

Chapter Six

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Summary: You are a hunter of supernatural beings who is forced to experience a new reality: being a vampire. The only thing stronger than your thirst for blood is your thirst for revenge.

Author's note: the characters mentioned here were created by Kevin Williamson and Julie Plec, based on the book series of the same name by author L. J. Smith. They don't belong to me. That said, this fanfic will be short. This fanfic may address scenes of violence, inappropriate language and adult content. Minors should not interact with this story.

Running might not have been the best option, you admit. Or maybe it was the best option, just not for someone who doesn't know where they are. Mystic Falls could easily be Lost Falls. Another terrible idea was stealing a car instead of using your super speed. You have no idea who this car is, you just needed to get away from the Salvatores as quickly as possible. When you locate the city bar you feel like you can relax at least a little. But that doesn't last long, because apparently Damon doesn't understand the notion of you having a moment alone.

"Do you usually run away from other people's houses like you're crazy, or is it just mine?" Damon seems to be angry, which you try to ignore.

"I need a drink, preferably a strong double or triple one." You ask the bartender, ignoring Damon's presence, as honestly, he was the last person you wanted to face right now.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong with you?" Damon questions, arching his eyebrows and staring at you as you drink whatever strong concoction the bartender handed you. You then order a beer from the bartender, who says he'll get it for you. You reach into your pants pocket for payment, and when you're about to pay, Damon is behind the counter. Obviously, he'll do anything to get your attention, including manipulating the bartender to serve tables while he takes care of the bar.

"Damon, could you leave me alone for the next few hours?" You ask, grabbing the beer that Damon is holding out of his hands.

He looks at you in a different way, as if he wants to understand you but you're making it difficult. Before he can say anything, a blonde woman calls his name, and both of you turn to see who it is.

"Does Elena know you're serving other women as a pastime, or is it another dirty secret of Damon Salvatore?" The blonde says with a certain arrogance. You observe her and then turn to look at Damon, who has a mischievous smile on his face.

"Caroline Forbes and her presumptions. You, better than anyone, should know that I don't owe explanations to Elena anymore, just as she doesn't owe me anything. Now, if you're done playing the curious Barbie, you can go back to taking care of your own life." Damon says sarcastically. It seems he has some familiarity with Caroline, whom you imagine is a friend of Elena. You find yourself thinking that maybe it would have been better never to have sought out Damon.

"It's part of my life to ensure that one of my best friends has a decent boyfriend, as much as possible. I don't like that it's you, but if you're going to be, at least be worthy of her." Caroline says. You feel uncomfortable, as if you're a person tainted on the inside. I mean, you had a fling with two brothers, and now you're interfering in the love life of one of them, which doesn't seem right.

"If you claim to be her best friend, you know that she and I are no longer together. Now, it's important to respect each other's choices and boundaries." Damon seems almost sensible saying that, putting Caroline in an awkward position. You simply observe them, thinking that Elena must mean a lot to both of them.

"Look, I don't know you, and I have no idea why you know this guy, but understand that all women are like puzzles to him. Once he's done putting you together, he'll discard you and move on to another game." Caroline warns you. She looks directly at you, as if she wants to seriously warn you; Damon seems a bit upset by what she said. You shake your head as if you don't know what to say. Caroline leaves like a storm about to erupt. Without saying anything, you head towards the exit.

"Are you really going to ignore me?" Damon says, following you after several attempts to get your attention by calling your name. You get into the car, which, by the way, might even be his, and he joins you, taking the passenger seat.

"Do you think we made a mistake getting romantically involved with each other?" You look at Damon, seeking answers in his gaze. The atmosphere in the car becomes tense, laden with the uncertainty of what the shared past might mean for the present.

"Maybe we were a mistake, but you're definitely not a regret for me. Even if you don't remember what you mean to me." Damon says. You don't know how to react.

"Did you know that Stefan and I had an affair?" You ask Damon. You have to make sure he has no idea what you're talking about.

"You told me, right before this all happened. I wasn't happy about it but you know my situation with Elena so I can't criticize you for it." Damon says looking at you with a certain annoyed look. You wonder if he cares about you enough to not want to share you with Stefan.

"What if my destiny is to love your brother?" You ask, unsure if you even want an answer from Damon. The truth is, you don't know who you love, don't know who you truly want – you only know that being close to the Salvatore brothers makes you feel... alive.

"You once told me that your destiny only depended on you." He replies subtly. I guess this situation must be commonplace for him. Have I never truly loved him, or have I loved him too much?

You looked at him as if you understood what he's trying to convey. And then, you realize something is in front of the car. A werewolf, in the middle of the road. It's alone and seems angry. The curious thing is that you didn't notice the werewolf before crashing the car into it. The werewolf gets angry and starts attacking the car with me and Damon inside. You know that a werewolf's bite on a vampire is lethal. So you fear, dying or watching Damon die. The car crash thankfully only caused superficial injuries Damon seems more concerned with seeing if I'm okay with protecting himself. And for a moment you black out, being flooded with yet another vision.

"Can you do it or not?" You ask the mysterious woman in front of you, she looks at you with a look full of doubt.

"Not that I don't understand why you want to erase Damon and Stefan from your head but don't think it's a bit radical?" The woman says looking at you, while you two are in that same cabin in the middle forest.

"Bonnie I just want to know if you can do it or not. I don't need a therapy session, I need my biggest weakness outside of myself." You look honestly exhausted, like you're at your limit.

"There could be consequences if you regain your memory, bad things could happen. Are you sure you want me to do this?" Bonnie asks, holding her mother. You try to think that anything is better to be a hunter who fell in love with two vampires.

"I am sure." You respond as you see the woman pick up an old book from the small table near the cabin's entrance. Everything goes dark after that, you just feel unbearable pain.

Pain makes you regain the consciousness that had been lost. When you wake up, you see blood running down your arm and you feel something burn inside you. Your blurred vision doesn't let you see anything other than Stefan's face. You're relieved to see him but immediately panic when you see your arm completely. You were bitten by a werewolf and worse, Damon is nowhere you can see.

#damon x reader #spotify #damon salvatore fanfiction #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore fanfiction #stefan x reader #stefan salvatore x reader #tvd angst #tvdu #tvd fanfiction #tvd smut #the vampire diaries #Spotify

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yellowkitkieran · 1 year

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To Have and To Heal (Part 9)

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Read part 1 here

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

"Those yellow heels don't work," your best friend says, her voice scratchy through your phone speaker. You set the device on your vanity and throw your hands up, noting Jen's upturned nose. She's the closest thing you have to a fashion expert, so naturally you called her an hour ago for some final advice on what to wear on tonight's date after sorting through your closet for an hour on your own.

"Well then I have no idea what to do," you whine, at your wits end as you toss the uncomfortable heels onto your bed. They land on top of the pile of discarded outfits you've tried on, none of them flattering enough for you to feel confident meeting Martin in. "This is ridiculous- I should just put on jeans and a hoodie and call it good."

Jen snorts, "Absolutely not-"

"It's probably what he's gonna wear! It could be cute if we wind up matching-"

"Babe, listen to me." You stop rummaging through your closet at the sound of Jen's teacher voice, listening instinctively to what she says. "You're not wearing something that simple. Martin has probably, like, rented an entire restaurant for you. I'm not letting you show up dressed for a date at your local pub!"

You decide against snapping back with a retort along the lines of 'actually, I don't know where my date is because Martin hasn't told me,' and opt for biting your tongue instead. It seems the better option when you've already gotten a light verbal lashing from Jen and you're loath to set her off on a tangent while you're already frazzled.

"Okay, fine. How about this?" You dig through your discard pile and pull out a red dress you tried on towards the beginning. It's simple, nothing more than a form fitting sheath of rich red fabric with three quarter length sleeves and no embellishments, but it feels like the right balance of classy and sexy. Jen hums, tapping her chin as she leans closer to her own phone until her face fills your screen.

"I like it, that could work if you pair it with that charcoal blazer you wore last week, and then those matching heels? The low ones, just in case you wind up doing a lot of walking."

After a minute of struggling you finally get into the dress and come back into the frame of your camera to show Jen. She wolf whistles, which is a sign of her approval. "Ooohhh girl that's the ticket! Do a spin- yeahhhh! That's hot, Martin is gonna lose his head when he sees you!"

"I mean I hope so, it took us literal years to pick out!" You both laugh, yours a touch awkward as your nerves begin to shine through. The ball in your stomach has gained momentum and now feels like a boulder in your gut. It weighs you down and keeps your feet rooted firmly to the carpet. You should be ending your FaceTime call and heading downstairs to call an Uber, not contemplating your outfit again to distract yourself.

Tonight's date is the highlight of your week. You've been looking forward to it since the second Martin asked you, and you hope he's felt the same way.

Maybe he's nervous too, you think. I can't be the only one. Then again… footballers probably don't get nervous. He's probably been on dozens of dates. This is probably routine for him.

Sighing to yourself, you realize belatedly that Jen has taken it upon herself to hang up on her own. "Love you too," you mumble to your phone, stuffing it in your bag and slowly making your way towards your front door. You tap through your apps and order an Uber to the address Martin gave you, fiddling with your keys while you wait for its arrival.

The ride is quiet, the young woman driving not bothering to try and make conversation due to your obviously negative mood. Being nervous isn't something you're particularly used to; normally you're quite confident and outgoing, which is why you're such an excellent teacher. Kids don't do well with shy adults.

When it comes to Martin however, he turns you on your head. Everything about him makes you feel backwards, out of your comfort zone, though not in a bad way. If given the time, you feel like you might grow with him. Like he might bring out a side of you that you don't realize exists.

Twenty minutes into your mysterious drive, the driver pulls over along the river and parks. "You sure this is the place?" The blonde looks as skeptical as you are as she meets your eyes in the mirror. You double check the street sign outside your window and match it to the one in Martin's text before you nod.

You don't see much other than a few traditional brick houses lining the quiet lane, each with matching floating flower beds hanging from the window sills. The wrought iron street lights cast a yellow glow over the uneven pavement. A few people mill about, either coming from work or out on their evening run before cosying up inside for the night.

"This is it, thank you." You give the woman a genuine smile as you place your sweaty palm on the door handle.

"Do you know this person you're meeting? I can hang around a minute and make sure everything is as it should be."

Your heart swells thanks to this stranger. Women looking after women, recognizing something suspicious and not being afraid to speak up about it. The smile that graces your lips now is brimming with confidence, as is the nod you offer her.

"I know him very well, he's a friend that's just finally offered to take me on a date, so I'm a bit nervous is all."

"You look wonderful," the woman offers. "He's a lucky man, that's for sure. I'll be crossing my fingers that it goes well for you then, but be confident! It'll be fine!"

"I appreciate that, I guess I better go find my date before he thinks I've stood him up."

You don't see Martin as you cross the street, which only makes you more concerned that maybe he's gotten cold feet. But you push on, following the low voices catching your attention and surveying the water in the canal on your right- which is when you finally see him.

The boat Martin stands on is slender, barely six feet wide. The Maiden is painted in flowing black script on the rear deck. Years of feet have worn down the white paint surrounding it, leaving bare wood in their wake though the name itself remains in perfect condition, like the vessel's superstitious captain avoided stepping on it at all costs.

The man Martin speaks with is dressed handsomely in a full black suit and silk tie. Martin, unaware of your approach, continues talking quietly and you get the sense that the two know each other well. Martin's companion flicks his eyes up when you shift your weight, finally drawing Martin's attention to you.

As Martin turns, his smile is the first thing you notice. He's already grinning, lips tilted in that devilishly handsome way that has you feeling like you're free falling, wind whizzing through your hair, and Martin is the only one that can save you from certain disaster. You're so caught up in him that you don't realize how dressed up he's gotten for the occasion until he calls your name, his voice breaking your stare so you can sweep your eyes over him.

It is clear Martin has placed as much weight on tonight's events as you have. He's dressed as if he were attending a red carpet, minus the suit coat, which is a plus because you prefer the rolled up sleeves of his white button down. Martin's strong shoulders fill out the shirt perfectly. You swear the row of buttons down his chest are set to burst open at the slightest movement, not that you'd mind that happening. His black wingtip shoes shine, either brand new or just simply very well kept like the man wearing them.

"Come join me solskin," Martin says, "I swear Antony doesn't bite."

You lean on the chain railing in front of you to peer over the edge of the canal, not noticing any steps. The water is higher than normal, which means you should be able to step onto the boat without issue, but you don't trust your clumsy self to do so without tumbling over the side and into the drink. Tonight of all nights, you'd rather not embarrass yourself.

"How am I meant to get down there?" You ask, biting your lip when Martin's musical laugh sings over your skin. His laugh sounds like a snowy winter's day, curled up at the hearth with a hot cup of cocoa and a fuzzy blanket. In your daydream, you suppose there's room for a handsome Norwegian footballer at your side, too.

"I'll help," Martin says, offering his hand as he comes to your side. Without a second thought, you bend your knees one at a time to slip off your heels and hand them over. "That's not exactly what I meant solskin, but-"

"Could I have your coat? I'm sure you've brought one."

Martin blinks, clearly contemplating what you're up to before he nods and disappears into the small cabin. He's in and out quickly, careful not to allow you more than a brief glance inside which reveals very little about what your date may entail. The mystery only serves to have you more excited, like a child waiting patiently to open the pile of gifts under the tree at Christmas.

"Thanks Mar," you murmur, unsurprised when he predicts your intentions and lays his jacket on the bricks at your feet. Polite as always, Martin averts his eyes as you maneuver to sit on the canal, feet dangling over the edge as you take the two foot leap onto the barge. The vessel sways with your sudden weight, forcing you to grip Martin's arms for balance until it rights itself.

"Careful," Martin murmurs, his warm hands finding your hips to steady you. When you look up, you're met by Martin's ridiculously perfect smile and those mischievous blue eyes. Until you met Martin, you never understood why everyone lost their heads over blue eyes. Now the hype is obvious; in the sun, Martin's eyes sparkle and shine like white-capped ocean waves. In the moonlight, they're deeper, like the depths of a lake that you yearn to explore and discover what secrets they hide.

"Thank you for meeting me here," Martin says. "I'm glad you didn't mind me keeping it all a bit of a mystery. It's a good thing I did though, because I almost had to figure something out last minute because my original reservation got canceled- but Antony was kind enough to help me out so I could still bring you here."

Martin's little ramble is adorable. You note how he fidgets with the cuffs of his shirt, like one of your students when they're paired with their crush on an assignment. The childlike innocence in the action only has you falling harder, like you've tripped over your own two feet destined to hit the pavement, only to find Martin is there to catch you.

"I don't mind at all. I'm just happy I didn't have to do any of the planning because that sounds like it was a bit of a pain." Despite the warmth of Martin's hands, you shiver when a chilled breeze sweeps over the water. Martin realizes the temperature change and reaches for his jacket, placing it on your shoulders over your own.

"Hopefully that will warm you up." Martin's tone is rich like warm caramel, brimming with a sweetness that makes your teeth ache nearly as much as your heart.

"It definitely will, thank you."

"Take her inside," Antony stage whispers behind his hand. The brunette winks when you glance over at him, then rolls his eyes as if Martin's mannerisms are nothing new to him. Perhaps they're old friends. It doesn't matter now- as Martin leads you inside, you find yourself smiling at how perfectly his hand fits in yours, like the puzzle piece you thought you'd never find finally snapping into place.

"Watch your step. And your head," Martin adds, his free hand flying up to cover the square edge of the door frame as you stoop down to enter. The gesture is instinctual but sweet, intended to prevent you from hurting yourself.

You aren't sure what you expected, but the candle lit dinner that awaits inside certainly exceeds your wildest dreams. A round, worn wooden table laden with snacks is situated in the middle of a U shaped bench. Latched oak cabinets with peeling white paint line the wall on your left with a niche for a small sink dotted with rust from years of use. A basket with a few wool blankets sit to the right of the door, which leads you to believe that one could sleep in this tiny space if they desired to. The whole thing is like something out of an old sailing catalog and feels somewhat like a time capsule to an age where the world was a freer, more enriching place.

Martin's cologne washes over you when he reaches to flick a switch above your head to dim the lights until only the candles remain. You crane your neck to watch his deft work. Another switch and a dial adjusts the soft, instrumental music to his liking, and when he finally steps back you're dizzy from the soft sandalwood scent of him that lingers in your nose.

"I hope this is alright. I didn't want to take you out to some fancy restaurant and risk being recognized or interrupted."

"This is perfect," you assure him and take a seat on the yellow padded bench. Plates of finger sandwiches and bowls overflowing with fresh cut fruits align with Martin's easygoing personality more than the romantic vibe of your surroundings. You like it better this way however, especially when Martin pulls a bottle of wine from the ice bucket on the seat next to him and pours you a short glass.

"I'll fill it when you're low, it's just better to not have a full glass incase we hit a little wave," Martin explains. "And I think this is your favorite, right?"

"Let me see." Martin is already in the process of spinning the bottle to show you the label when you speak. You grin at him, a hand on your chest when you note the vintage handwritten on the sticker. "It is- how did you even know that?"

"I asked Jen," Martin admits. Candlelight dances in his proud eyes, his smile shining brighter than anything in that moment. "She pointed me in the right direction. Like I said, I wanted tonight to be perfect."

"You've done plenty to make this perfect Mar. I'll admit I would've been happy with a home cooked meal or a trip to an arcade but this? Martin, this…" You shake your head, gesturing to the walls and windows to indicate the entire evening. "No one has ever gone through so much effort to make me feel appreciated like this. I know we've only just sat down, but this is already the best date I've ever had by far."

Hearing that seems to set Martin's mind at ease. His strong shoulders lose some of their strained rigidity. His face softens and his smile has butterflies stirring in your gut.

How can Martin bring out your soft side so easily? You're not one to let your guard down quickly. Normally you keep your heart in a cage to shield it from hurt because you aren't sure how many more cracks it can handle. Something about Martin has you throwing your self-inflicted rules out the window. You aren't terrified of being used because somehow you know his intentions are genuine.

"Atla was very upset when she found out that I was seeing you tonight and she wasn't allowed to come with me." Martin spoons some fruit onto his plate and spears a piece of pineapple with his fork. "She said I betrayed her trust, which seems like an awfully big phrase for a little girl to be using."

"Ah, then she's learning. Good to know that she's been paying attention to our books."

Martin quirks a brow, "Oh? I guess that's a positive. What exactly are you reading her? I hope it's appropriate," Martin teases.

"Oh, I'm reading her Shakespeare," you say nonchalantly, ignoring the surprised look Martin throws your way as you throw his teasing energy right back at him. "She loves it! It makes sense that she's picking up some bigger, sophisticated words with how quickly we're flying through Romeo and Juliette. You should see her when we're reading a tense scene, she likes to act out the fights and the drama."

"Really?" Martin, for as intelligent as he is, can be a bit too trusting at times. You struggle to keep a straight face, covering up the beginnings of a smile by sipping from your glass.

"Mhm, she picked it out all on her own. We started with Macbeth, and next we're probably going to move on to A Tale of Two Cities or something. She likes the old settings, you know?"

Martin hums, lips pursed as he tries to imagine Atla reading literature that most high schoolers would struggle through. "Wow, I didn't think Attie would be interested in anything like that, not when she's so young at least. I wouldn't have dreamed-"

You cut Martin off with a laugh that bubbles out of you in the most unflattering, unattractive way. It continues past the hand you have clamped over your mouth, catching Martin off guard until he laughs along with you. You'd be embarrassed if you weren't unafraid of being yourself with Martin. He embraces your quirks, especially the bits that make you, you.

"Mar I'm kidding," you wheeze when you're able to catch your breath. "I wouldn't read that to a student! Gosh, she's far too young for something like that!"

"Good because I was gonna start questioning your teaching ability! I was thinking whether or not I'd need to report you… I'm glad I don't have to make that decision!" Martin laughs, running a hand through his blonde hair. The few strands that stick straight up only add to his natural charm, somehow making him more attractive. You find yourself wondering if his locks are as soft as they look. If you ran your own hand through them, would they fall flat again or would they leave the same endearing spikes behind?

When the laughter fades, a comfortable silence falls as you both snack on the array of snacks provided. Silences normally feel stagnant and bloated with words left unsaid, which is why you avoid them as often as possible. But it isn't that way with Martin. The quiet is comfortable and for once you don't feel the need to fill it with a random story from your childhood or an out of pocket fact about architecture. With Martin, you embrace the lack of speech and instead focus on the soft music playing from a hidden speaker.

At one point you peel back the curtain to peek outside and are greeted with a stunning view of the Tower Bridge. The lights of the city create rippling constellations on the Thames. When you've had your fill of drinking in the city, Martin asks about your hometown, your family, your friends, anything and everything to keep you chatting. You ask him questions of your own when he leaves you space to interject, but overall he seems more interested in getting to know the real you than letting you past his walls.

That's fine, you can work with that. This is only one singular date, the first of many if you're hopeful. Seeing as you've not embarrassed yourself yet, there's every reason to believe Martin will ask you on a second, and at that time you can turn the tables on him and learn what makes him tick.

Martin checks his watch and smiles to himself. "If you peek outside again, you should see the parliament building, I always forget the name. But I know you said one day that you wanted to see it from the water, so I thought why not do that tonight?"

"No way!" Throwing all manners out the window, you grip the windowsill with your fingertips and haul yourself around to confirm what he's said. "How did you remember that? I mentioned it ages ago!"

"I remember most of what you say, all of the important things at least."

Luck is a fickle thing. Is it finding a four leaf clover in a field of threes, or is it finding a penny on heads? Luck can be waking up on time when an alarm isn't set, or it can be this: landing a date with the man of your dreams, who goes out of his way to ensure you're aware that he values you as much as you value him.

*********

An hour later, Martin's rented boat has docked where your journey began. Martin helps you climb to street level, where the two of you now walk aimlessly at a leisurely pace.

Martin's expectations for tonight hadn't been high. He's surprised by how easy it is to talk to you. You take turns asking baseless, silly questions, like how impossible it is that some people find pineapple to be a suitable pizza topping. Neither of you are willing to let the night end, but when you begin to shiver, Martin knows he cannot be selfish any longer.

"Can I drive you home?" Martin asks finally. "You're on my way anyway, so you can't say it would be an inconvenience to me. And by the way, I would still offer if you lived across the city."

"Yes, I think you can. I'd appreciate that, Mar, thank you."

Martin's eyes are stuck on your smile. It consumed his thoughts for days, made his own lips tingle with the need to feel them pressed to yours, to discover whether you taste as sweet as you smell. Martin wonders, not for the first time, if you think of him at night the way he does of you. He needs to know, sooner rather than later. All it would take is him leaning forward a few inches and he would know.

But Martin can't shake the intuition that moving too fast with you might be a mistake. And it's not just the fact that he hasn't kissed anyone in three years. It's that he doesn't want you to write him off as just another man who wants nothing more than to take you home and undress you. Martin wants more than that. He wants to know what lies beneath the surface. He has too many unanswered questions to let you slip away from him because he can't think of anything but how you might feel pressed against him.

Plus, he has a daughter at home. Martin can't just bring you over whenever he pleases, and he knows that as soon as he gets a taste of you, he'll be addicted. Once won't be enough; he'll need you every second of every day.

"That Audi is yours, isn't it? It's very nice. I love the color."

"It's just gray," Martin notes, thankful that you don't call him out for staring. "Nothing special. It's not even a premium color, it's just one off the showroom floor."

You shrug those elegant, slender shoulders. "Still, I think it's pretty. I don't know much about cars, but- oh!" You hold your hands over your head as the skies suddenly open up, the beginnings of a downpour rumbling in the clouds. Martin immediately slings his jacket off and holds it over you, shielding you from the rain as you both walk towards the car as quickly as your heels allow.

Rain. Martin hates rain. It's slippery and dangerous and nothing good ever comes of it. Your foot slips as you step off the curb and Martin lurches for you, catching you in time to keep you upright.

"Please be careful," Martin says, more than a hint of panic in his voice. That familiar, unwelcome fear begins crawling its way up his throat. He hates this, he hates all of it. He should have insisted on getting you home earlier, when he could've been positive you'd be safe. Now it had to go and bloody rain, ruining a perfect night.

"I'm okay Martin, really! I'm alright." You smile when he opens the passenger door for you. He takes your hand not to be polite but because his soul demands he ensures you're alright. When did his chest get so tight? Why are his fingers tingling? God, Martin can’t form a single coherent thought.

Martin closes your door and stands in the rain for a few seconds, letting it pelt his skin. It's frigid. His shirt is stuck to his skin, probably semi transparent by now. He doesn't care. He lets the chill ground him until you knock on the inside of his window and break him out of his head. Martin hurries around to the driver's seat and starts the engine, messing with the climate controls and the lights until he's got them perfect. His mind is running faster than an Olympic sprinter and he can't hold onto a single thought longer than a second, except for one.

Keep my solskin safe.

Martin knows he holds no ownership over you. Certainly not after one date, and probably not ever. Not if he continues to act like a skittish cat who can't keep his head together.

"Mar, are you alright?"

The soft melody of your voice breaks through his internal panic. Your fingers graze the back of his hand, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled. For once, Martin is thankful he's had the foresight to drown himself in cologne or else he’d probably stink to the heavens.

"I'm fine," comes Martin's strained reply. He's not fine. He's anything but fine, actually. He'd rather knee slide on asphalt than drive in this sort of weather. And now he's meant to get you home safely? Martin isn't sure he trusts himself to do so.

"Do you not like driving in the rain?” There you go again, reading him like an open book. Just this once, Martin wishes he could be an enigma, that you couldn’t see into the depths of his mind with a single glance. “We could call an Uber, it would be fine-"

"No," Martin snaps. Regret washes over him in an instant when you blink, taken aback. You hide it well, but Martin still notices because it's you and he notices everything when it comes to you. He hates himself for it but he can’t help it, you distract him any time you’re close enough for him to smell your floral shampoo.

"Okay, then we can sit here until it lets up a bit." You try to pry Martin's fingers off the wheel with a gentleness he does not deserve. He’s upset you and yet your instinct is still to try comforting him.

"No," Martin repeats, softer this time. "I can do it." Martin pulls away from the curb using no more than a toe on the accelerator, his left foot hovering over the brake just in case. His eyes dart across the road and between all of his mirrors, on high alert for anything or anyone out of place. He doesn't realize you've turned the radio off until you clear your throat and it startles him.

Martin is wound tighter than a two dollar watch, near his breaking point. His fingers ache thanks to his death grip on the wheel, his eyes fatigued from working overtime. Though he takes great, gasping gulps of air, his lungs feel starved of oxygen. He swears he smells perfume, which wouldn't be concerning, except for the fact that it isn't your perfume he smells, but that of someone else who used to occupy his passenger seat.

"Mar? Just turn here, it's a touch longer but there's less traffic."

Martin operates on autopilot to follow your directions, joints protesting due to the tension held in his muscles as he turns the wheel. Martin swears under his breath when the car behind gets a touch too close for comfort. He's well aware that to the average person it was an acceptable distance, but in all honesty, Martin would rather be the one and only vehicle on the road at this moment in time.

Martin counts his lucky stars when your house comes into view. Nothing tragic has happened on this trip, and he can finally relax knowing you're home safe. Getting himself back in one piece, on the other hand…

"I have a guest room." Martin swears you can read his thoughts. "You could spend the night, I think there's some sweatpants in one of my drawers that my brother left behind at some point… you don't have to drive home in this awful weather, Mar."

There is little Martin detests more than pity. Of all the emotions that compose the human experience, pity is one of the few Martin wishes to eradicate. Since Maria died, Martin has received an endless stream of 'poor Martin, being a single parent is a struggle, you must be struggling all on your own' or sentiments along those lines. He hates knowing other people think that he becomes small when faced with a challenge. It's just rain- Martin won't let a spout of nasty weather defeat him.

"I'll be fine," Martin says, mindful of his tone. Over the years he's found it easier to mask his true feelings by ensuring his voice remains level and even. On the pitch, letting your opponent know you're afraid can be the first domino that falls in defeat. In life, it's much the same. Martin refuses to let you see the side of him that he has fought so hard to protect.

"If you say so." You fiddle with the straps on your bag, searching outside the car for a distraction. Martin forcibly drags himself into the present, pushes any thoughts of the past from his mind.

"I'll walk you to your door. Wait there?" When you nod, Martin grabs his jacket and comes around the passenger side, doing his best to shield you from the lingering storm that insists on ruining the perfect night. You climb the handful of steps slowly, like someone reluctant to come home because they know they're in for a scolding. Except in this case it should be Martin that is reluctant, because he doesn't want to leave you with a sour impression.

You crowd closer to Martin under the safety of the awning. This close, he can see the tiny hairs plastered to your forehead but he doesn't care, he still thinks you're as gorgeous now as you were when you peered at him over the canal railing. He'll take you dressed up, dressed down, or looking like you went for a dip in the ocean; he doesn't care, as long as he's with you and you're safe.

"Be careful on your drive home, will you? Don't go crashing and ruining that pretty face of yours."

Why does the universe insist on constantly reminding Martin what he's lost?

"I'll let you know when I've made it home," is Martin's tense reply. It's not your fault that your joke hit his fears squarely on the head. He hates that he can't forget and move on.

"Well… goodnight Mar."

In romance novels, this is the part where the love interest initiates a passionate kiss. The main character will act surprised but really she saw it coming; she's planned for it after all. If Martin were living in one of those novels, he'd brush the hair off your cheek and cup your jaw, tilting you towards him for the mind-blowing, earth-shattering kiss that he's dreamed of for weeks.

But Martin is a rational man, as most Scandinavians are. He is not in the headspace to facilitate such romantic gestures, nor does he want his first kiss with you to be overshadowed with thoughts of Maria.

God, Maria. Martin misses her. For half a second, Martin swears the light tints your eyes the same shade of vibrant blue that he called home for so long, there and gone in a flash. Guilt hits him like a freight train, knocking him right back to square one.

"Goodnight, solskin."

You catch Martin's wrist when he turns to leave. Before he can open his mouth to ask why, you rise up on your tiptoes and press your plush, soft lips to his cheek. Immediately, Martin's soul rights itself. His vision clears, his mind quirks, and he finds his center. You replace the fear in his bones with a calm that he only ever experiences with a ball at his feet or with Atla in his arms.

Perhaps home, too, is a fickle thing. Sometimes it's rings on fingers accompanied by promises of forever. A family can feel like home too, with children running and laughing, creating messes and memories. Other times it's rain-soaked cheek kisses that speak greater volumes than a thousand words. Home can be as simple as this: feeling one's semblance of self return, thanks to no more than a smile on the lips of a woman one admires.

#oof this is a long one #martin odegaard #martin Ødegaard #martin odegaard fic #martin odegaard fanfic #martin odegaard imagine #martin odegaard fantasy #arsenal fc #jac writes #alt timeline lover

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phoeebsbuffay · 2 years

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Imagine: Vader has the control of the empire, no longer subjected to Palpatine. But there is conflict on him… especially when he senses his old flame is alive. And she’s coming for him.

Warnings: this is an idea independent of the new “SW” series (such as “Kenobi” for example). Other than that, for the purposes of friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers, you will have no Padmé here. But there’ll be references to “The Clone Wars”.

Warnings2: drama, angst, unburnt Vader, violence, lots of drama with FLUFFY in the end.

Well, you have been warned…

***

Preface.

Vader stares down at the corpse of his former master. A sensation of having his vengeance completed fills his body. He is the only Sith Lord, and him alone. But first and foremost, he won’t be the one to bow to others, waiting for orders and carrying them out.

I am my own master.

He breathes in. He breathes out. Mechanically so. Despising Palpatine’s lifeless body, he passes over it, discarding it as if it belonged to some dead animal he had the misfortune to encounter.

Vader then proceeds with his plans for the Death Star. He feels the power of the Force guiding in darkly, mysterious manners and a sly smirk crosses upon his lips.

No more obedience.

Silence is his best companion. When surrounded by it, Vader’s concentration improves. He meditates better. Force flows naturally. No one dares to interrupt him.

But silence is also his worst enemy. When his eyes close, voices of those his lightsaber came across with yell in the back of his mind, tormenting him. Worse is, however, not only the look of disappointment in Obi-Wan’s eyes, but the pain he inflicted upon you. The angst, the chaos, the hate.

He hoped to have brought you by his side. He thought he succeeded, but he knew you well enough. You did not disappoint him. There was a fight, but you resisted him as much as you could.

Then Obi-Wan forced you to leave him, rescuing you from his fangs. After he was left to die, Vader never heard about you. Until…

I sense a disturbance in the Force.

Until now. His skin tingles, there is hope rising in the midst of his dark heart. You live. But this relief is suffocated by the depth of shadows that still poisons Vader’s heart, whose tentacles hold a tight grip upon his mind as well.

Nonetheless, he wears his mask and decides to wait for you.

Y/N, I know you’re coming for me. I’ll be patiently waiting for you.

***

Flashback. Ten years ago. Your POV.

Everything was easier when you were being instructed to become the representative of Mandalore in the Senate. You were young, but not enough to be in the school. But your heart was completely naive.

Before you reached the Senate, however, Duchess Satine thought wise to have somebody escorting you. A Jedi, she told you, would be the best option because these were days of wars and the Jedis were peacekeepers. Satine asked a favor to Obi-Wan and general Skywalker was designated to be with you most of the time.

He came to meet you the day you were ready to depart.

“My lady”, he bowed.

You had never seen such a handsome before and perhaps he had captured your thoughts because there was a smirk in his lips where there had none before.

But you held no malice in your heart or your mind. Sweet natured, you were often seen as too pure for this world so lost in darkness, corrupted by wars moved by the ambition of others. You once told those who were against your presence in politics that the world should be remembered of days where light and peace were all the Galaxy knew. Your optimism was very captivating.

“Master Skywalker. I see it’s you who’ll take me to the Senate, am I correct?”, you inquired as he took you to the ship.

“Indeed, my lady. My Master assigned me for this task. An honor, I should say, that it is to serve your ladyship.”

You giggled at his galant manners. Anakin was certainly trying to impress you: he too thought you were the embodiment of the damsels who were portrayed in these songs he used to hear as child. When looking at your red-ish curls perfectly braided in two, tied underneath a triangle headdress, or noticing the blue gown that enhanced your curves, he was mesmerized. There was an immediate attraction between you, but you chose to ignore—and so he did for the same reasons—because of your sense of duty.

But you were very friendly to him, though. And the more the two of you engaged in conversations, the more Anakin himself came to find out two things:

1. You had the Force with you. But how could you not realize that?!

2. You were indeed too innocent for this world. He vowed to himself he’d protect you to the day he dies.

As for you, it was all of a sudden that you could capture his emotions and thoughts. But maybe you were under the effect of exhaustion as you had been working hours a roll before engaging in such a long journey? Or perhaps was this the result of the attraction you felt for him? General Skywalker did possess good looks and as a woman, however inexperienced you might be, you could not deny yourself that.

Anakin could tell something was troubling you, but he did not say anything until he sought his Master’s counsel first. It was far more common to find the Force in a child than in an adult without practice as it was your case, who ignored all of that completely. At least for Anakin, this seemed impossible.

“What do you think about the Jedis?” He inquired you after a while.

There was a moment where conversation ceased and you took the book of Galactic constitution to read, and he found the sight of you concentrated as you decorated the rules and laws that helped to keep Galaxy in order, adorable. Perhaps you’d make a good diplomat after all.

“They are necessary to the working of the Galaxy”, you responded him with sincerity. “Peace needs peacekeepers after all. Galaxy is enormous, my lord.”

Anakin smiled at the innocence he detected in your words. He took a like of you, you could tell that by how he smiled and it made you happy since the two of you were expected to spend time together. You hoped to be a pleasant companion for him.

“You present a good point when you look at that angle”, he said all the while he took a curl that dropped to his eye behind his ear. “But do you not think every planet should look after their peace themselves?”

Perhaps he was testing you, but you did provide him an argument why each planet needed the mutual cooperation and not follow the old saying “each to their own”.

“We need each other. Together we cooperate better, because divided we might fall.”

Anakin was impressed by your passionated speech. You convinced him of your point. And you smiled at how well the two of you were getting along.

It was all that you’ve talked about. He could tell you were inexperienced and you were eager to get some news from him. He would help you going through all that even though he hated politics.

The first month for you there was terrible, execrating! Anakin tried to console you, he hated to see your innocence—which some might call naivety as you were abruptly told by other Senators—rupture like that. And each time you were upset or became dissatisfied with yourself, Anakin sensed a disturbance in the Force.

Well, he had to do something about it. And that was when you were told that you carried the Force.

***

Present days. A galaxy far, far away.

Carrying a white saber whilst dressing a black gown beneath which you wear black plants as well as black boots, provide you an interesting contrast. It often makes you earn the trust of the bad and the suspicious of the good whenever either crosses your path.

The shadows might have embraced you, but you flow to light often. You are comfortable with both and used either to your favor. Ever since Obi-Wan disappeared of this world, you’ve been fighting to survive. The Empire knows you are out there, feeding resistance as well as paradoxically you stay away from trouble. Depending of your mood, you’d give in a rebel you might not like that much.

Although that’s not something you do currently. As you meditate, you come to terms with yourself and the scars you carry. It still hurts when you remember you are now haunting the man you once loved with all you being. In moments like this, where you are flying across the galaxy, you do not allow yourself to dwell in the past.

But sometimes you swear you can hear Obi-Wan advising you to stay focused in the light rather than flowing to the dark with the excuse that Force needs balance.

“You are acting like the fugitive you are not. In fact it’s not that you are running from Palpatine and Vader, but that you are running from yourself, from your feelings.”

These words still pain your heart. But they have to be remembered. Ironically, you use them to fuel your hate for him. However, in nights where you were tired of fighting, you ask yourself: how did I get here? How did I become the person I swore to defeat?

You developed a sentiment of self hatred. In moments like this you feel lost. You weep because you are alone. The man who once swore to protect you until he’d die is very much alive and chose power over you.

To realize this breaks your spirit each time. Although at the moment, as you fly to meet him, you turn to your past not because you miss it—well you might, in fact—but mostly because it’s time to be at peace with yourself.

The Lady White, as the rebels often call you, is the rebels’s hope. And soon, as you finally leave your shield down so he can see you are alive, you’ll meet your death with elegance. Or at least try to take him down with you.

***

Flashback. Anakin’s POV.

“Whilst I am not a fan of meditation, it is an important tool to control your emotions and your thoughts”, he was telling you. The Senate was in recess and you had a break to begin your training as Jedi. Obi-Wan reluctantly allowed Anakin to be your Master.

Now sitting in the grass, away from the public sight, he was teaching you the techniques of breathing in, breathing out so you could feel the Force flow with you.

Anakin watched you intently. He insisted that you’d save all morning for your Jedi practice as the Senate could take a lot of you and the Force must not be out of the balance when it was with you. He also enjoyed the fact he had another excuse to be around you.

“It’s difficult to concentrate”, you pointed out, sighing with impatience. “Too many thoughts, Master.”

Anakin took a seat by your right side. Your scent of petals almost destabilized him. That day your hair was completely loose and you wore a small tiara with a blue stone in it. You were also dressing a red gown with short sleeves, that showed your shoulders off. The most pure temptation.

“Let these thoughts come at the same time you ought to let them go. They are like clouds, they come and go easily. Do not get yourself attached to them.”

He whispered in your ear and you reacted almost instantly. Anakin could tell he had an effect on you, an effect that became more visible every day. But he knew he should not feed this feeling. It was not his place to do so. However, why couldn’t he stay away from you?

The goodness in you came out naturally, captivating Anakin’s heart and even inspiring the light there was in him. Your influence upon him should be not be ignored. It’s been there with him since day one.

Casting his sentiments aside, once duty must always come first before any kind of desire that may arise, Anakin focused in the lessons he was teaching you. And a small smile soon twisted upon the corner of his lips when you succeeded in meditating. As a result, you were almost floating, a sight too impressive for him.

“You are doing great, Y/N.” He told you once you opened your eyes and glanced at him quite anxiously. “You progressed a lot more today than the days before.”

Anakin saw how your cheeks were bright pink and how your smile spreaded on your lips after his words. He, more than anyone, understood the purpose of the proper compliment—although these may have been heavily influenced by his newly feelings to you.

“Is it time for the practice of the lightsaber yet?”, you inquired, ready to stand as he offered you his hand.

“Calm yourself, Y/N. First, the basics. Then the lightsaber.” He chuckled at the first signs of your willfulness.

You tried not to scoff at him, but accepted that you needed more time. In due time, however, the connection with your Master grew stronger. As spring turned into summer, you took your time to be by his side, enjoying every lesson possible. Anakin was surprised by your dedication, you did have more discipline than he did in his own days.

“Be careful, Y/N!” He ran to you as you almost fell from one of your physical exercises. You ended up falling right on to him. On top of him, much to your consternation. “Are you okay?”

You were quick to leave him, much to Anakin’s disappointment. He could tell how you were feeling by looking at you, hearing your heartbeat. Whenever you giggled nervously was mostly because some thought occurred you that your reason disapproved, and that was what you did. Again.

He smirked at himself, aware about such thought you saw as mostly irrepressible.

“Yes, Master. I appreciate your concern. I’m very clumsy”, you apologized.

“There’s no need to worry. Now come, maybe you need a break.” And by saying so, he pulled an arm around your shoulders.

It didn’t go unnoticed by him that you did not remove his arms, but relaxed under them.

***

Your POV. Current days.

Space is dark, with few points in it glowing in different colors. You spot the Death Star from a safe distance, hesitating still.

It looks so inviting, you thought. There’s emptiness in your mind, despite the burden there’s in your heart.

When looking at that fantastic building—for better or worse—you come to lament the purpose upon which it was builded. You actually carry to you doubts about who you were, disappointment lingering about the responsibilities you had to the Republic.

The self hatred that is in you makes you question yourself by opening old wounds. You bleed. You feel hopelessness washing over you.

You could stay there. Just there. Waiting to become his prey. You perceive now that you accept your destination. Dying in his hands no longer seems tragic to you.

Considering you were once tempted to join him in the empire he eventually managed to make by the Chancellor’s side, it is fair that this is how you pay for your mistakes.

On the other hand… there is this old side of you that, to your dismay, hasn’t died by Anakin’s side. In fact, a small question pulls the following trigger: what if there’s hood in him?

In your recollections, now that you come to think of it, you are stupefied by the look of pain in his yellow eyes. As if they held utterly disappointment because you too turned the back on him.

It takes a very long time for you to comprehend his motives. And as you look at the Death Star, sensing his presence, there’s less pain in your new perspective. Whatever it is that lights a spark in your heart, it brings you to your old self again. In the memory of Obi-Wan Kenobi and the old Republic, you, the last Senator, go willingly to meet Darth Vader.

And he is there, waiting for you too.

***

Flashback.

It was raining outside. To open a new season, drops of water fell out of grey skies in a tempest. It was how the new chapter of your life was set to begin. You went to propose the end of war, but your arguments were not only rejected, as you left the reunion humiliated.

You did good to yourself by using the Jedi tricks to your favor. These, however, were not enough to trick Anakin. He knew what was going on and you were surprised when he led you to your private quarters. There, he took his hands and said:

“Hey, Y/nickname. I know there’ll be difficulties in your path because of your position that you occupy whilst representing your planet, but don’t let these disappointments make you forget who you are.”

You could not look in his eyes, appalled by how you saw senators claiming that to purchase peace the need to go to war and obtain a victory upon the Separatists was imperative. You began to crack on the inside. Everything you once defended with passion seemed to be used against you.

Anakin could read your thoughts and sense your distress. He carefully lifted your chin, thus making you look at him.

“You are better than this, Y/nickname. Don’t let these ambitious people take the best of you.” He embraced you, and you melt in his arms. “I will always protect you, Y/N. Until the day I die.”

You sniffed a little. You should not form attachments to other people, especially not your Master, but the next thing you know, you were searching for his eyes.

As Anakin sensed your needs, he met yours. Neither of you spoke. He gently caressed your cheek and said:

“I mean every word I say, my Padawan.” He smiled softly at you.

You knew you could trust him, your ideas, your perceptions…your heart. Your life. And before you knew, you were the one to make the first move. To Anakin’s surprise, you kissed him.

If there was any sort of resistance on his part, you would not know because he did not hesitate. He kissed you just as passionately. He pulled you close, his hands cupping your cheeks. Love ignites from one heart to another, strengthening the bond you two already had.

“I love you”, you said, eyes close as you parted the kiss very briefly.

“And i love you, y/nickname”, he told you, a smile spreading over his lips. “And I will love you until the last day of our lives.”

You looked up at him, beaming.

“Is that a promise?”

“I vow to it.”

He took your hand to his lips where he pressed a gentle kiss on top of it, his eyes never leaving yours.

***

Present Day. Vader’s POV.

When you land with your saber in hands, Vader at the same time is taken by despise for your foolishness—do you really think you could beat him alone?—and courage for such an act of…courage. He, however, sensed something else when looking at your red-ish hair tied in a braid, lingering in the smalls scars that, unperceptive to others, captured his eyes. His heart weighted when seeing signs of distress in your eyes, the same eyes that used to look at him with devotion.

You look different to him, but not at all the oppose of what you used to be. The days of joy where you aimed to please him, when you comforted him, when…when the two of you made love every night, are like torture.

“Y/N”, he says nonchalantly. “Did you come to me at last? Have you changed your mind?”

He is patient. But, against his pride, he is also bothered by the concern he feels when he investigated your thoughts.

Vader finds out all you’ve been doing so far: cultivating a life as the Lady White, even though you were never dressed in white robes. But to many rebels out there you carry hopes, even if it’s far from what you wanted in the past. He sees the countless nights you were weeping because he promised you that he’d love and protect you until he died.

I chose power over her.

He realizes that. A little too late.

But he tries to suffocate this thought. Only for another to come.

What have I done to you, Y/N?

The anger he feels is eventually addressed to you. He raises his hand and brings you close. He wants to see you choke. But something is different. What is it? What is it?!

You resist like last time. And the battle is inevitable.

“There is good in you, Anakin.” You push him away from you, holding the saber. “We can make things better out of this, I promise you. You don’t have to obey anyone anymore. You don’t have to be enslaved by the darkness to overpower everyone…”

“Enough!” He yells at you.

But somehow he does not hurt you. Vader turns around at you. What is it? You sense the conflict in him.

“My darling, please listen to me..”

You are careful. He knows it. He senses the fear in you. He hates how you manipulate him. He wishes he could have given you the kiss of death but when you stand right before him, there is something.

As you remove his mask and helmet, Vader is observed by you. Silence remains. The two of you are surrounded by some guards, but they are ignored.

“I turned around to you”, you tell him, “not because I abandoned you, but darkness too tempted me. I lost the capacity of distinguishing myself from… all of this. Jedis and Siths.”

He does not say a word. But he cannot go either. Yet Vader remembers.

Your sweet disposition to him even in his bad days.

Your embrace in his dark moments.

Your patience in consoling his fears.

Your gentleness in tending his traumas.

Your saving grace.

Your loving, selfless self.

There is little use to weapons. You defeat him by doing nothing, except loving him by who he is.

***

Epilogue.

Far away from the galaxy we know.

It is in a planet where the tentacles of the empire had not reached out that you take Anakin with you. Where neither of you have reasons to worry, where a new hope for a better start begins.

The balance in the Force is finally there. All thanks to you. To many, Vader is dead, and the Sith went to the grave with you. This is partially true. Vader did die and there were Sith no more. But Anakin, your loving husband, is very much alive.

“Every day I love you more and more”, he mumbles against your skin.

Both of you are in bed whilst sun is rising. Green colours the landscape, mixed with the blue of skies. It’s like a farm, peaceful and quiet.

He moves lightly on top of you, hugging you from behind. His kisses are warm and make you feel good. He’s still possessive to you, fearful of losing you. But that is a side you embrace well—maybe because you have it inside you too.

“Ani…”, you sigh happily, turning around to see him by your side. The sight of him shirtless is always one you never get tired to contemplate. He knows it and smirks at you. You lean forward, taking the opportunity to do some things to himself when all of a sudden…

BANG. The door is open.

“Mama! Leia doesn’t let me sleep!” Luke comes in, protesting like the five year old boy he is.

You and Anakin exchange glances. Since he’s the one better dressed than you, he leaves bed and takes Luke in his arm. You watch the scene, beaming as Anakin hugs Luke against him and spins him around, dissolving the bad mood from your son’s face.

“What did she do now?”, Anakin inquires.

“She pulled out my hair. And pitched me!”

Of course it would not take so long before Leia storms in.

“That is not true! You pulled away my dinosaur first! I told you that is /mine/!”

You could not help but laugh at what you see. Wrapping yourself around the sheets, you pull Leia at your lap.

“Sweetheart, what did I tell you about sharing your toys with your brother?”

Leia, whose eyes remind you so much of Anakin, pouts. Whilst you lecture her about the perils of being selfish, Anakin takes Luke for a walk around the outside.

“Did you know your dad was a good pilot in his good old days?”

Luke looks at Anakin in awe. The sight of innocence, the sight of good that remind him of you. He smiles.

“Really? But what happened? Did you retire?”

Anakin knows one day Luke will know about the road he followed in the past, about his rise as Jedi and his fall as Vader. However, this day is not the day.

“I’ve met your mother”, a simple truth that could summon every bit to it.

“How boring!” Luke complains, making Anakin laugh. “Can I pilot too someday, dad? Pleeeease?”

As he looks down at his son, Anakin feels greatness upon him. But as someone who one day felt the pressure for being “the chosen one”, this is hardly a topic he’d dwell to it. Instead, he says:

“Why, of course.” Then he adds mischievously. “After your eighteenth birthday, of course.”

Luke pouts, but Anakin holds onto him, all the while laughing at the youngling’s remarks. In the meantime, you leave your bed dressed, carrying Leia with you.

“Hey guys, breakfast is ready!” You announce.

Luke insists to be pulled down and Anakin complies, watching him running after Leia and eat his favorite meal with his twin sister.

You are embraced by Anakin as the idillic scene develops right before your eyes. And then when looking into his eyes, you say:

“My love, thank you for sticking to your word.”

He leans forward to you and press his lips against yours, resting his hand in your stomach because, like the first time, he senses before you that a child is growing in your belly.

“I will always love you, bound to you and our family that grows every day.”

And happiness seems to find the way it is meant to be, until a knock on the door is heart. The two of you exchange looks as you know there’s no neighborhood around. Who could be? Is the silent question you pose each other.

Anakin goes hesitantly to the door, but a good feeling inspires him confidence. He opens it and is surprised—not to say thrilled, much like you, to see an old friend right next the door with a smile bright on her lips.

“Hello, Master. It’s good to see you again.”

It’s Ahsoka Tano and she came to stay.

#imagine Star Wars #Star Wars imagine #Star Wars #Anakin Skywalker #ahsoka tano #Princess Leia #Luke skywalker #Anakin Skywalker x you #Anakin Skywalker x your name #Anakin Skywalker x y/n #Anakin Skywalker smut #Anakin Skywalker x reader #Darth vader #Darth Vader

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paperhatcollection · 4 months

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For aspiring young trainers, Vinyl City- music capital of the world, offers a unique and harmonious opportunity for people and Pokemon alike. While the city may lack both a League and Championship status for the region, there is no shortage of contests and concerts to dig one's teeth into. While there may not be the opportunities to battle found in other regions across the world, bonds between trainers and their Pokemon shine as brightly in this city as any other, if not more.

You know, despite the pokemon, we don’t actually see NSR’s gameplay loop changing all that much.

We don’t really believe that just because you’re giving these characters a pokemon team that the game would automatically become an rpg, or that everything would now be solved by a pokemon battle. Or anything, really. Mayday and Zuke are musicians, neither of them have any actual interest in straight battling. Sure, they’ll take the NSR artists on in a battle of the bands, but aside from the pokemon now being responsible for some of the attacks you already see in the base game (DJ’s Minior does his sun beam attack for him, Rillaboom aids Yinu’s mother in slamming into the ground, etc), but you never fight them directly. With the exception of Neon J’s team, none of these pokemon have even been trained for battling.

We’d also say most of the fun in picking out pokemon for characters like these is the hows and whys- there’s more to this sort of thing than just picking from a list. Did the trainer want this pokemon, or did they stumble upon it? What stories might the two share? What have they been through together? Eve probably had the most discarded pokemon on this list- not just in terms of being considered, but outright with bits of lore in our head as to the why and written blurbs for their place on the team. Who knows, maybe Eve has more pokemon than this, and this is only her current ‘performance’ team.

Shoutout to PoisonousSugar over on deviantart [LINK], who was responsible for the original trainer card used to make this!

Likewise, we couldn’t make something like this without mentioning this art [LINK] of Neon J with a shiny Dhelmise by Corruptimles. Not only is it some sick art, but the pokemon just fits Neon J to such a T that anytime we see someone give these artists pokemon without giving Neon J this ‘mon, it just looks wrong

Likewise, Espathra works so well for Eve, that if we were only giving all these artists one pokemon each, that would 100% be her partner. Aliendragondreaming recently made pokemon teams for all the nsr artists that inspired us to also take a crack at the idea [LINK]- and though Minior for DJ was something we had already had the idea of before this, their picks for Neon J and Eve each inspired the same Pokemon for those trainers on this list.

And finally, shoutout to the (literally being) pokemon au done by meister-draws [LINK], in which their picks for what Team Sayu would be are so good we just imagine the kids having these pokemon each. Both ideas they created for the DJ are also really good (if you asked us? DJSS as a Deoxys is really good, with the theming and ego of this man. Plus it adds something to the whole ‘you think you’re so special and above us all, but you’re not stronger/important than anyone else. Minor works really well as a pokemon he has, but not so much one he is, even if it��s stature is as short as he is)

Finally, a written description of the text in this image under the read more just in case:

MAYDAY

Fuecoco

A newcomer to Mayday’s team, inspired by tales from Zukes past and Kul Fyra’s performances. While it’s true Mayday had always wanted a fire type of her own, they are not native to the islands.

Pikachu

Enjoys rocking out during B2J’s performances, and can serve as a handy jumpstart if its trainer doesn’t feel like breaking out the equipment. Also answers to Sparky, Ratman, Hey you, and Pichu.

Trubbish

Optional Pokemon the player can find if they click around the sewers enough times. It must’ve been attracted to the piles of junk a certain someone keeps bringing home. Seems to enjoy the sounds of B2J’s concerts.

Any fan of rock is a friend in her book!

ZUKE

Krookodile

This lazy ‘croke spends most of its days dozing away. However, if it were to run into a certain someone from its trainer's past, Krookodile would become aggravated and protective of its trainer.

Luvdisc

A gift from someone Zuke used to be close with.

Is unsure how Mayday even came across a Fuecoco to begin with.

DJ SUBATOMIC SUPERNOVA

Minior

A rare, enticing find worthy of being his partner Pokemon. While the DJ can easily tell Saturn apart from the other Miniors, fans struggle picking it out from just the shells.

The Club Planetarium is filled with indigo Miniors, though their shells rarely break. It’s a guessing game amongst fans to try and find ‘Saturn’.

YINU + MOTHER

Applin

Currently Yinu’s first and only Pokemon, Applin was obtained fairly recently to remember a loved one by.

Appletun

Despite being a normally calm Pokemon, Appletun has been acting aggressively of late, and refuses to follow orders given by Yinus mother in battle. It has an undeniable soft spot for the family, however, including the Applin belonging to Yinu.

Shaymin

Technically, the Shaymin of Natura is meant to be in the protection of the district's current charter. However, as Shaymin require advanced care, it is being looked after by Yinu’s mom until she’s old enough to properly care for it.

Rillaboom

Has a remarkable knack for keeping rhythm, even amongst its fellow kind. Has been trained by Yinus mother to duet with her should the need arise.

Chesnaught

Extremely protective of the family, is tasked with keeping Yinu safe during Bunk Bed Junctions hijacking.

Tropius

Yinu’s favorite of her mother’s Pokemon, as it always allows her to eat the fruit from its neck.

Appleton will join Yinu’s team one day, alongside Shaymin.

1010

Falinks

Lacking a Brass, each Trooper is instead assigned to a 1010 unit. The two move and fight as one, constantly changing their formation as they battle. It seems both are listening to orders given from offset.

Fans have just as much fun coming up with personalities for each Trooper as they do for the 1010’s themselves.

NEON J

Klinklang

Neon J was given this Pokemon (already fully evolved) when he awoke with a new rank and body.

Aegislash

It wasn’t originally known this sword was even a Pokemon, until it was given to a newly rebuilt Neon J and sprung to life. Neon J feels as though he can relate to it, the Navy feels as though they should check the armory.

Dhelmise

Caught from the wreckage of a ship during his time in the Navy, his go-to battle partner.

Falinks

Although Neon J enters the fray with only the Brass by his side, it quickly calls its Troopers back from the 1010’s limo. It considers Neon J’s orders absolute.

Quaquaval

Although Quaxly was Neon J’s starter Pokemon, its struggle with self confidence led to it being unevolved until after the war. It now only waits for its trainer's command to take the spotlight.

Ludicolo

After failing to catch a Wingull for several hours as a child, Neon J had stumbled upon Lotad entirely by mistake. It is now hard for him to imagine his team without Ludicolo on it.

All of Neon J’s pokemon have been taught how to, and enjoy, dancing with their trainer

EVE

Smeargle

Her starter, starting out as a young artist. Has been with her the longest, and has picked up quite a strange assortment of moves, even with Sketch’s notorious reputation.

Espathra

Although Flittles aren’t native to Vinyl City, Eve found the Pokemon injured while searching for inspiration for her art. After aiding it, it has clung to Eve’s side ever since and fiercely defends her.

Mr. Mime

Aids Eve in her performances, is a bit of a diva in its own right.

Furfrou

Everytime this Pokemon has been seen in public, it has had a brand new hairstyle and color job applied. Rumor has it that it was a gift from someone Eve was close to before becoming a Charter.

Malamar

Despite its fearsome reputation, this Pokemon merely enjoys the lights of Vinyl City, and cares deeply for the trainer that raised it. Eve has used it’s ink for her art before.

Milotic

After acquiring Smeargle, Feebas was the first Pokemon Eve encountered and caught on her journey. Eve now considers it fate the two of them met.

Eve has been known to take spa days with her Pokemon in tow.

TATIANA

Chatot

Rarely ever seen without her trusty Chatot, the public is very aware of what is believed to be her sole Pokemon companion. Despite this fact, very little is known about it or how Tatiana acquired it.

Volcarona

It was said that Kul Fyra had a Volcarona that shone so brightly and burned so hot during performances that it rivaled the sun.

Rumor has it that even Kul Fyra lost in a battle to Tatian’s orderly strategies.

#NSR #No Straight Roads #Encore Edition #NSR AU #pokemon #Most people don’t even have ‘full’ teams #Not for difficulty or anything. They just don’t want more.#The only two that combine their teams in a double battle sense are Yinu and her mother #(only because of Yinus mother overshadows her own daughter in her own fight)#You might have noticed Tatiana has a pokemon that is associated with both a metronome and having been banned for censorship concerns #Yes #Although not featured DK West has a Mimikyu #Who acts has a hype man and gestures with its trainer #But you know. It’s still a rap battle #And all of Sayu’s ‘pokemon’ are just digital sprites- no twists or porygons or anything #just straight up not real pokemon #not linked to real pokemon #nada #All of which are designed to match her aesthetic #Though they aren't a staple of her performances- the main appeal is supposed to be Sayu herself #and her pokemon would appear rarely if at all #Might not even be the same ones! There’s a reason we choose not to include her in the list #Kliff straight up does not have a pokemon #He just cannot manage the bond needed to partner with one #Zuke has not battled much he’s just had his pokemon for a Very long time #Also imagine B2J’s pokemon rocking out in the concert hall in the menu #Pickachu headbanging on a speaker system #trubbish bouncing back and forth #Krookodile’s tale rhythmically smacking the floor #etc

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beevean · 9 months

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me constantly going in the CV tag despite knowing that it's 10% nice game fanart, 40% gifs of the show, and 50% some absolute braindamaging takes, is taking a toll on me

because after blocking the nth post admiring Lenore for playing Hector like a fiddle/saying Hector deserved to be enslaved for his original plan of culling mankind (nvm that babyboy Isaac was far more evil about it and he never got punished for wanting to "purify" the world)...

... I really want to think about Lenore and how I'd make her work with the crumbs that the show gave me lol

Lenore is obviously meant to be a parallel to Hector. Both of them are the animal lovers of their group, and mocked for it. Both of them are the "nice" ones in a group where cruelty reigns. Both of them are the least respected of their group - Dracula and Isaac shitting on Hector vs. Striga and Morana not even thinking about Lenore when they peace out. Both of them got used then discarded - yes, even Lenore, who became useless after enslaving Hector. Both of them are actually more of a threat than they look (allegedly, in Hector's case, but I can tell the intention was there).

Then there's the way they contrast. Lenore is a vampire who still clings on vestiges of humanity: she likes to eat food ("why live forever, if you're not going to live well?"), she rejects brute violence (again, allegedly) in favor of the more human art of diplomacy, she's compassionate about lesser creatures (humans included), and she's horrified at the realization that she is, deep down, nothing more than a greedy beast destined to crave more and more. Hector is a human alienated by humanity, who thinks culling is the kindest option, relates more to animals than his own species, and seems fascinated by the nature of vampires.

Imagine if the two actually bonded over this, and betrayed their "factions" because finally they found someone who respects them. And I mean organically bonded. On screen. With dialogue. Without the gross BDSM petplay. That part 100% has to go, it adds nothing, it's humiliation for humiliation's sake, it ruins Lenore's character, and it's just masturbation fuel.

I'd also change the scene where Lenore beats Hector. In my idea, Lenore flees from Hector's clutches, and then doesn't visit him again... for a week... and leaves him without food and water. By the time she comes back, Hector is desperate and is not above begging for some water, but she doesn't want to come close. "Are you going to hurt me again? :< you hurt me the last time :< you're so scary :< I did nothing to you and you tried to kill me :< I'm afraid that you'll do it again :<"

Basically, treating Hector like a rabid dog until he genuinely apologizes, and not only he learns the lesson that he shouldn't attack the only vampire who visits him, but he feels actually guilty and a terrible person about it. Made worse by how sensitive Hector probably is about all of this, as a love-starved abused child.

You know, manipulation, not just a brute display of strength to admire how stronk the girlboss is.

I don't know how their relationship would go from here, though. I only know that I'm more than happy with Lenore sunning herself: it is thematically coherent for her, her refusal to become like Carmilla, her guilt for hurting Hector, and if the two actually cared for each other, her choice to look at the only man who treated her with respect rather than the sun would be lovely.

Needless to say, we can only get here if she organically grows fond of him and doesn't rape him :^) but if she does, if she's really so cruel to hurt a man at his most vulnerable just to do what her sisters asked of her, then the story should treat her as such - and I'd also love to see Hector just snap, because by this point he's sick and tired of being seen as an object. Give him his big moment of taking down both vampires who hurt him. (in my vision not only he smashes Lenore's skull with his hammer, but he also takes a swing at Isaac - not killing him, just hurting him a little. please)

But I'd rather avoid that. I would like both characters to have agency - not even falling in love with each other, I don't care about that (they'd never be a cute couple anyway, not when she starts out as his jailer), just have a more interesting relationship built on two kindred spirits finding each other, but driven apart by their roles and nature. The vampire chooses death, the human grows and thrives.

There is sadly not going around the fact that Hector fell for two vampires (three if you count Dracula, but I can forgive that one) who employed the same strategy. I don't like the way Carmilla uses Hector either, but I can't be bothered to fix her rn.

#anti netflixvania #kind of. sort of.#mostly for categorization purposes #i'm just tormented by visions as usual #i wonder if i'll do to lenore what i did for surge lol #lenore thoughts #<- in case i need this post again

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oksana-moods · 1 year

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Queens of Promise - Part 5

Summary: The plot thickens.

A/N: Hey you all! I don't even know what to say here rs It feels like a decade has passed and certainly feels odd to come back after such a long time. I don't know if there are people still interested in this story, but after a request of a dear friend of mine, I decided to post what's already written and work on the last chapter (the only one I haven't fully written yet, only on script).

I'd like to explain that my writing time got reduced by a lot of reasons, but mainly, 2022 was a bittersweet year that I'll definitely remember for the rest of my life.

Without further ado, let's get back to the story, shall we? Everything until chapter 10 is written and almost ready to be posted, I'll just look for typos or other mistakes and you shall have it really soon. For real this time. Chapter 11 however, the final chapter, is still on progress but I promise I will give you the end of this story.

Please, let me know your thoughts.

-Previous parts here

Trigger Warnings: Violence, language, mentions of blood and war. If there is any other that should be mentioned, let me know.

Into your eyes, hopeless and taken

Triskelion Castle

“Absolutely not.” Queen Calanthe manifests her disapproval to your latest idea. “I’m not letting you play spy and into Sokovia’s territory, no less. It’s not time for games. We are at war.”

For the thousandth time, you sighed. You tried countless ideas of how to learn the Maximoff’s plans with the Kree and none of them seemed to please your mother.

“Well, what do you suggest? We need to find out what they are up to, messing with the Kree.” You spat the word Kree as if venom tainted your tongue. “You can’t expect me to sit on this. I’m going to discover this one way or another, even if requires me to interrogate Princess Maximoff myself.”

“I suppose you discarded that idea few months ago.” She seethed, referring to when you had the princess within reach, but you chose to let her go and you hated how she was right. You hated even more not knowing why you allowed her to run away, in first place.

Loki cleared his throat trying to clear the air in the room and intervened with an option. “Perhaps we could send a small unit to the harbor?” He folded his hands behind his back and started to explain his idea. “We know for sure that winter is closing down on us, therefore there’s only one harbor in Starksland that any commotion could happen.”

“Hogan’s harbor.” You spoke, grasping what he was proposing. Loki, in turn, flashes you an appreciative smile, he always admired your intelligence and how receptive you were with those who you trust.

“Precisely. If Kree were to arrive with troops or anything else, that would be the place.” He lifted his hand and started to enumerate the facts that supported his theory. “Hogan is a small town, there’s not many prying eyes. They could count with the snow to slow down Stark’s troops. No resistance whatsoever, not until they are far inland and with the large number of trade routes, they could very well disappear until they’re fanning on our necks.”

You looked at him with a smile on your own. You always prayed to the Gods for your mother to live for more than hundred years, but the idea of your ascension as Queen seemed a little bit less scary because you knew he’ll be by your side, sharing his wise.

You turned to him and grabbed his head forcibly and gave two kisses on his cheeks. “Uh brother, you’re brilliant. I knew we kept you around for something more than just your pretty face.” You finish with a smile, which grew wider after his reply.

“Thank you. I have a pretty face indeed.” He straightened his robes from imaginary crinkles, suddenly uncomfortable with your praise.

You turned to your mother, head spinning with ideas, and started to share them. The meeting went for hours without end, but this time plans were discussed instead of rejecting ideas and later that day, you had convinced the queen that your unit should be the one set off for this quest.

After the assembly, you stayed behind in her meeting room. Her eyes were set on your form, while you pretended to busy yourself admiring an old painting celebrating the bravery of your family on some ancient battle. The painting showed some gran-gran-mother regally mounting a white horse, wielding a sword in the middle of a battle. You wondered how many lives were lost for that ancestor to gain this work of art.

“Do you think her mother doubted her worth?” You spoke quietly, after a moment contemplating the moment eternized on the wall. From the corner of your eye, you could see your mother’s head turn to you harshly.

“Oh my love, I never doubted you.” She took few steps and you turned to look at her fully now. The crease between her brows were deep and there was worry in her eyes.

“Yet, you weaken your troops on the battlefield by keeping my company away. You don’t trust me anymore.” Your voice was flat, as if analyzing an event and not delivering how bad it bothered you.

She took the remaining steps between you and grabbed your hands in hers, giving light squeezes. “I’m a mother and you’re my daughter, my only daughter. After your abduction by the Kree, I went berserk and didn’t stop until I had you in my arms again.”

Her eyes were hard, but they showed so much love that you felt your feet slightly out of balance. “Oh, when I saw your fragile, beaten form laying on your bed that night I vowed that I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way again.”

She paused just for a few seconds to make sure you were following. “And this war has so many blind spots, so many white blanks that scares me, my love. I can’t lose you.” She squeezed your hand harder this time. “And Taharr can’t lose you.”

You looked at the emotion seeping from her eyes, and it was once in a lifetime to see the queen Calanthe so vulnerable, so human. “One of the first lessons you taught me was to serve my kingdom. No matter what.” She laughed dryly, of course you’d use her words and ‘lessons’ against her. “And I am good, mother. I need you to see that.”

She cupped your face with her hands and caressed your cheeks with her thumbs. “You are the best, my love, you are my daughter and I taught you myself. If anything, I made sure the greatest warriors in this world prepared you to be the best knight in Noveria, even better than myself. But, in the end of the day, I’m still a mother worried about my cub.” She smiled lightly and you smiled as well.

As a queen, she knew better. From early age, she made you learn how to fight with all weapons and even without one. The same time spent with physical training was dedicated to study the numbers, letters, history, geography, politics, religions, beliefs and even agriculture. After all, knowledge is never too much and information could be a weapon itself, if harnessed properly.

You nodded but still counterattacked. “But I know that your permission had more to do with the fact that I’ll be away from the front than to my investigation skills. It stings.” She was about to speak but you stopped her. “You can’t protect me forever, mother. We are at war and in Taharr there’s always war.”

This time she nodded and took few steps away from you. “I know and you’re right, but I’m old and one day you’ll step up as the Queen of Taharr and I have to make sure that you’ll live long enough.” Her words sink heavily in your stomach, the veracity of her statement hit you like a rock.

Your mother fought her battles, had her share of wars and now she was looking to the future, worried about the type of person would assume her crown when the time comes. “Do you think I’m reckless? Do I embarrass you?” Your voice was low, exposed and she hated to see you second guessing yourself. She always loved your spirit, even though they brought a fair amount of headache.

“Never.” Her voice was firm, and she spoke the truth of her heart. “I’m nothing but proud of who you are. You’re strong, intelligent and you’re never afraid of fighting for your people. You’re a true lioness.” Her soft smile turned into a small smirk. “As for reckless, I can’t judge your youth’s spirit. I remember giving my father few grey hairs due my own adventures.”

You snorted at her choice of words, and you wondered if you’d ever learn how to speak like this. You wondered if you’d ever be half of the woman she was and a quarter of the queen she was. There were many things you wondered, and you feared you wouldn’t be that good. “Do you think I’ll be a good queen?” Again, your voice was small, foreign-like small, showing her your inner doubts.

You knew you could handle a fight; you knew you had learnt troop maneuvers enough to overpower an enemy during a war, but could you run your kingdom with the perfect balance between ruthlessness and kindness as your mother? Could you guide your people during the darkest times when it comes?

“I know you’ll be the greatest queen to ever grace these lands, even more marvelous than Queen Maria Hill.” Pointing at the Great Queen on the painting in front of you, she spoke with a certainty that pushed away the worries hammering your head and heart, at least for now.

You shook your head amused and locked eyes with her. “Will I be as good as you?” Her smile was bright, thanking you wordlessly for your praise, then she replied. “Oh love, you’ll be better than me, for you have a heart of gold. And when the day come, I’ll be a delighted queen and a proud mother.” She finished with a glint in her eyes, and you nodded you head, smiling lightly.

She patted the seat by her side on the balcony, welcoming you to enjoy a cup of tea admiring the beautiful fall tinting the trees and fields on the outskirts of Triskelion of orange, dark red and light brown as the maple leaves adorned the grounds.

You were still thinking about the conversation you had had with your mother when a nudge on your ribs brought you back to reality and you looked to its source only to find Lady Rambeau nodding towards a specific door at the back of a decaying pub near the docks.

You narrowed your eyes and saw a young woman stepping inside of it and you smiled, for you knew who she was. And something told you that, after weeks lurking around Hogan Village, today was your lucky day.

You waited on your spot for a while longer and a soldier reported that there was no sign of Scarlet Knight or Black Widow, something foreign stirred in your stomach when they said Princess Wanda was nowhere to be seen, it was almost as if you were disappointed.

But why? You shook your head and chewed your own lip, weighting your options and thinking about what your next step should be.

This time, it was your turn to nudge Maria’s side and beckon her to follow you. You signaled for everybody else stay on their posts and wait for new instructions, then you strolled to the pub’s entrance.

Once inside, you immediately asked for a beer, to blend in with other costumers and locals. You leaned on the counter and tried to find sokovian soldiers. “I’m counting two on the right corner and another by the window, the one with white hat.” Your words were low, to make sure only Maria would hear them.

She nodded and turned her body, leaning on the counter, pretending to be bored with her beer stein. “You missed the guy by the side door.” She took a sip of the liquid and used all her mighty to not spat the content on the floor, pursing her lips. “This beer is worse than piss.”

You snorted. “You know, the mere notion that you can make such comparison scares me.” Lady Rambeau sniffled her laughs as to not get unwanted attention. “Come, is time for us to have a chat.” Silently, she followed you to the table were the person you were after was.

“Oh. Squire Kate Bishop, fancy seeing you here.” Your spoke loud enough for the girl in front of you hear you properly, but not loud enough to attract unnecessary attention. You were disguised as trader and so was your partner, but your face was not particularly unknown.

Despite being low, your voice still made her jump, startled, then she turned back to look at you.

“It’s Knight Kate Bishop, actually.” She raised her chin, proudly and you almost felt bad for her. Unbeknownst to her, she gave you more information with that single sentence than she could’ve imagined.

She was proud of her title and so was of her mission, for sure. Therefore, the mission was bound to be important. Therefore, Scarlet Knight should be close and had interest in whatever was going on. Therefore, it’d be a matter of time for you to learn what it was.

You smiled at her. “That’s quite the title, kid. I’m sure you can handle it, though.” You spoke then you let your eyes stray to the stash of papers on her hands.

“I’m sorry, what name did you introduce yourself with?” She tried. You were lucky indeed.

“I didn’t.” Smiling you retreated from the bar and went to the camping on the outskirts of the city, where you shared your knowledge with your companions. The stash of papers in Bishop’s hands were ship manifests, they meant supplies were about to arrive and you knew just when, for you read the ships names.

Forel Star and Valar Zirtys, both braavosi ships and that made no sense in this crescent pile of strange allies sought for Sokovia. First Kree, now Braavos. Unless…

Something popped in your head.

It was known to a lot of people in other continents, but only a few in Noveria knew and, fortunately, you were one of them. One of the papers had the Ragman’s Harbor stamp on it, which means the ship’s last stop was a harbor that’s open to all foreign ships, unlike Purple Harbor, which tends exclusively local braavosi ships.

Obviously, said ships could have made a quick stop in Braavos coming from another place and after loading the new cargo, set off to Hogan’s Harbor. However, there was this nagging feeling that this was a diversion. Maybe, the Kree used the braavosi harbor to laundry the load as to avoid suspicious. Very meticulous.

The question is, what Sokovia had offered in return?

You could be wrong, but the more you thought about it, the more all the details seemed to click into place. Your instincts never failed you.

You were sure they weren’t start just now.

------

Somewhere between Sokovia and Taharr borders

The road to the Krogani Lakes seemed endless, especially with so many turns, road depressions and lakes to go around that took one moon for Wanda’s troops to move from the outskirts of Hogan’s Village to the battlefront.

Even though the interminable trip was a nuisance in itself, the princess felt her restlessness growing with each day. The wagons transporting their goods could turn their luck on the front. There wasn’t just food, which she knew they desperately needed, or new armors and weapons, but especially medical supplies. Nowadays, those were rarer than gold.

The Scarlet Knight was so engrossed on her thoughts that she didn’t hear Natasha’s horse arriving by her side. So, when her friend spoke, she startled Wanda. “One more hill and we’ll get to Sokovia’s camp before dusk.”

“By the gods, how can you still be silent with a horse?” Wanda put a hand on her heart as though this action could calm her down.

“It’s literally impossible to be silent with a horse, Wanda.” Romanoff shot her a smirk. “You were so absorbed by your thoughts that you missed my approach.” She laughed lightly, trying to lift the mood, sour since their encounter with the Kree emissary.

“Urg. This trip is interminable, and though we’re no longer in Taharr’s territory, it feels like we’re been watched still.” The princess shared what bothered her with her protector, there were so many reasons why she’s restless that she does not know where to start.

“I feel it too. Especially when we went around the Gauntlet Valley by the south, but I believe that I’m still creeped about that power stone we delivered to the Witch Harkness.” The Black Widow spoke, eyes never straying from the road and their vicinity, always looking for a threat.

“I’m still creeped about the whole meeting, Nat. That woman didn’t look like she had her mind on the right place, even less were her intentions.” Wanda felt cold creeping up her bones the second she entered the inn the witch provided as meeting point and every now and then she still felt chills on her cells. “Fortunately, it’s behind us now.” She muttered.

“Unless it comes back to bite us in the ass later.” Natasha smirked a sentence dripping sarcasm, and deep down she prayed that it was just a sarcastic remark indeed and not an omen.

By the time Wanda arrived at their camp, the tents for her and her unit were already up, and everything was prepared for her arrival. The redhead was dreaming with a hot bath and a very deserved rest, but the second her boots touched the campsite, she was taken to the Commander’s tent.

“What happened?” Wanda inquired the second she stepped into the tent. There were important Lords and Knights gathered around a table, but she couldn’t see the man to whom the tent belonged to, only his shield broken on the ground.

“Lord Rogers was captured by the enemy, your highness.” Sir Rumlow fed her with the latest news and the reason why the camp was a pandemonium. Another battle lost to Taharr and now their mightiest warrior, their Commander, was captured. This was a blow to the troops’ morale.

Fuck. The princess muttered to herself. It felt as if fate was against them, only when she brings new supplies, this tragedy happens. “Who’s leading now?” She asked but offered her opinion already. “Lady Romanoff can step in.”

“I’m the next in succession line, your highness.” Sir Barnes started, after clearing his throat. “And I’m afraid King Pietro and Lord Vision would approve, as I’m already familiar with Steve’s tactics.” He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, but not enough for Wanda to think he’s being rude.

“By all means.” She raised her hands in surrender. As for Vision’s wishes she could care less, but Wanda wouldn’t undermine her brother’s commands on the battlefield, besides the Winter Soldier was a formidable soldier and she knew her army would be in good, capable hands. “Now what?” She asked, sitting by the table, sighing tiredly.

“Now we negotiate and until then, we wait.” Natasha replied and every head on the room nodded in agreement.

Wanda always saw herself as a patient woman, but to wait for any ransom request or even a meeting to draw a negotiation was murderously painful. She had spent the days checking the wounded and their treatment as well as the troops meals, she did everything to kept herself busy to try and forget that one of her mentors was in the lion’s den, possibly dead and there was nothing that she could do.

Dread filled her bones as she walked inside the tent built on the once battlefield, so they could stand a conversation and exchange their requirements somewhat sheltered from the cold rain. Wanda’s eyes roamed the room, taking in every single person present, envisaging who could be a threat in case things went south.

Her eyes stopped and never left the smiling person on the other side of the table, neatly separating the place in two.

Right in the center of Lords, Ladies and Knights, there was you in rich red robes with a few lines adorned in golden, and a lion with an imposing roar was embroidered in your chest. You were breathtaking and Wanda took a few seconds more than usual to breathe again, immediately plastering an annoyed look on her face.

“Ah, Princess Wanda, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” You shot her your most dashing smile and Wanda’s annoyed face turned into a scowl. The gal of you to speak with her like that.

“Can’t say the same, I’m afraid.” She replied, crossing her arms and taking a seat on the table in front of her. “Shall we begin?”

“Of course, Your Highness.” There was a glint in your eyes, but it didn’t feel like you were mocking her title, quite the contrary. For some reason, you seemed truly pleased with her presence and that baffled her.

You cleared your throat and started to speak as if this was a simple matter and not a ransom negotiation. “Your Highness, Ladies and Gentlemen, the last few battles bespeak for themselves, I’m afraid this war is dragging itself for far too long.” You look around to see all eyes on you. “I think a truce is in order. Especially now that the winter is here.” You let your lips turn into a smirk and finished. “No pun intended.”

With a sudden movement, Sir Barnes unsheathed a hidden knife and stuck it heavily on the table in front of you, dangerously close to your hand. “Why don’t you stop with your funny remarks and get this over with?” He spat the word funny as if it were covered in venom.

While Carol, Maria and Sam each let out their own indignant forms of exasperation, you didn’t even flinch. You remained still, looking at the man known as Winter Soldier dead in the eye. “I could have your head in a spike for that little stunt, Sir. Or maybe I should ask for your other hand?” You tsked, feigning disappointment.

To his credit he didn’t waver at the mention of him losing his remaining arm, you only heard stories of how this had happened. It wasn’t a sore spot, you suppose. Taking a tired breath, you resumed your little speech. “I imagine Lord Wilson was very clear when he said no weapons allowed, yet here we are.”

“The note said we’d negotiate Steve’s release, yet here we are.” He mocked you and for a second you thought that picking him by his neck and breaking his nose on the table would be a nice way to show him that he was not allowed to speak with you like that. One glance at Wanda showed you that she had an unreadable expression gracing her face.

With a start, you decided that an act of violence would be unwise if they were trying to negotiate a ceasefire. As much as you wanted to put him in his place to make sure he’d never forget to be respectful to you, you relented.

“Why do you speak as if you were in charge of anything?” You decided to keep violence as your second resort, then. After all, you still need to get a truce before your men freeze with the winter that is about to ravage that region.

He was visibly frustrated by your comment, and you immediately knew this was his weakness. He didn’t want to be demoralized, specially not in front of everyone in the room, probably because his position was too fragile at the moment. “I’m the Commander of Sokovia’s Army, I represent-” You never let him finish.

“No, Sir. The Commander is currently in my custody, you’re barely a nuisance to me. I’m here to negotiate with Princess Wanda.” You flashed him a dangerous smile, however, he wanted to have the last word.

“Lord Vision and King Pietro, they both agreed that I-.” Again, you cut him midsentence, too annoyed to keep listening to his voice, you were losing a precious time now.

“I don’t care about King Pietro or Lord Vision, they’re hundreds of miles away while our feet freeze in this hellhole, so let me be clear, if I wasn’t already. I will only talk to Princess Wanda, no one else.” You fixed him with a glare colder than the rain outside the tent and this time he spoke nothing, grumpily leaning in his chair, defeated.

You turned to look at Wanda, who looked like she was ready to deny every single one of the requests coming out of your lips. “Princess Maximoff, I’d say we stop this madness, once and for all, but I’m pretty sure you still want to revenge a crime that we did not commit.” You began, keeping eye contact with Wanda hoping she’d see that you meant every single word coming out of your lips.

The Maximoff, on the other hand, started to open her mouth to protest but you raised your hand, signalling that you still have things left unsaid, in return, she simply closed her mouth and waited. “I’m sure you know better than anyone that winter by the lakes is cruel and will decimate our soldiers, no matter the color of their clothes.”

You paused your speech just long enough for you to see that the princess had her eyes glued on you. Her beautiful green eyes. “So, I propose a truce. You take your army home and I’ll retreat mine. We can try a peaceful, new negotiation when spring arrives. If we fail, then you can march south once more.”

There were murmurs and grumbles of disapproval by her side, but you already expected resistance. Illogically, a lot of people seemed determined to prolong this war even more. Something churned in your stomach when all Wanda had to do was to raise her hand for her companions to cease their complains. Were you proud of Wanda’s leadership? Why?

Why would her little demonstration of power affect you to this point?

Your thoughts were sliced by the princess’ heavy accent, and you had to bite back a smile that was already painting itself on your lips. “Why would I let you go back to your warmer south if my troops can endure the winter longer than yours?”

“Because not only I’m willing to set Lord Rogers free, but also, I might pretend that I don’t know where your new supplies came from.” You could see Wanda’s face morphing because of your words and their meaning.

You were willing to overlook her Kingdom’s deals with the Kree and this was a big offer. Huge even. Sokovia could be the most hated people, just like Hydrarr was, and the price paid as an outcast was painfully high in Noveria.

“Why?” Even under the feeble light provided by the candles, you could see genuine curiosity in her eyes.

“My people need to rest, and we need a truce, Princess. Even if it’s a cold peace until we can settle a more permanent agreement later.” You could still see drops of hesitation in her eyes, that’s why you quickly provided her with an insight.

“If we keep doing this, Taharr will no longer possess an army but the same will happen to you. How long do you think Hydrarr would wait to abuse your borders? Or how long do you think Asgard would take to claim as theirs the share of Bifrost Forest that currently belongs to you?”

You could feel the other sokovians staring daggers at you, but your attention never quavered from Wanda. For a moment, you almost smiled thinking that your mother and your brother would’ve loved to witness your tactics. Information and knowledge are a powerful weapon indeed if one knows how to wield it.

Apparently, all those hours locked up in your chambers learning about boring geopolitics paid off. The basics of being a king or a queen is how to keep your borders, hence why one needs an army and the thin lines on Sokovia’s east were a weakness that you would not hesitate in remind her of.

“You have your deal, Lioness.” Her voice brought you back to present again.

There was a muttering around the tent, but your eyes were solely on hers when you spoke, smiling widely. “We should celebrate with a good southern wine, princess.”

“Don’t push your luck, Princess.” You could’ve sworn that you saw the ghost of a smile flashing on her lips while she got up to her feet to leave the tent, but you probably had imagined it.

taglist: @californianwhiterabbit

part 6

#Queens of Promise #wanda maximoff #princess wanda #wanda maximov #wanda marvel #wanda x you #scarlet witch #wanda x reader #wanda x female reader #wanda x fem!reader #medieval au #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #enemies to lovers

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thesoggiestboyintown · 1 year

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ok i know i already talked about this but i wanted to add more and go in depth about this. there is so many reasons why noel could dream about monique.

it could be that he was raised to think this is true love, like if he wants boys to love him he just has to let it happen. he has to let men use and abuse him, let them control his mood and actions. he’s so desperate for this type of love, this type of pain because he thinks that’s the only love that could exist for men like him. that men will only him for his body and desperation. that the only way he could get love is to accept any form, even if it hurt him.

or again, it could be connected to his dad. maybe his dad was so rude, so degrading, he just thinks it’s acceptable. he thinks its how men should love him. why wouldn’t it be? his dad hit him out love, why shouldn’t other men? they only do this to show they care, right? his dad did it to him, possibly his mother. why shouldn’t other men? it’s how they show they love him after all.

or maybe it’s just to feel something. he’s so bored, so tired of feeling unloved. he’s so lonely, he would accept anything. any type of love, affection, even if he was discarded right away. he’s just so numb, so fucking lonely, he just wants to be seen as an option. he wants to be seen as useful, something convenient. he’s never even been a second chose, not even on the list. but someone is willing to use him, to make him feel anything but numb. even if that was pain, that was something. even if it was mental torture and emotional pain, it was better than feeling unused and inconvenient.

maybe he was in past relationships, but they were just hidden. (got this idea from the fic Now We Know What YOLO Really Means. it’s by Never_Ending_Carnival, please go read it.) All the boys that have given him attention would never admit it. it was shameful to even look at noel, let alone love him publicly. it was disgusting, dangerous. why would they be so proud to date noel? so because he was treated like a secret, a disease, maybe he feels like he deserves bad love. he deserves to be treated like shit because that’s all he was shown. he deserves bad love because he is bad. he deserves bad love because it’s familiar to him. it’s predictable. it’s easy.

#ride the cyclone #noel gruber #ride the cyclone noel #i lobe him #he’s so me #i’m actually noel gruber #i can’t stop talking about him #i heart him #i’m so noel

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miharuutan · 1 year

Note

Good day kind fellow, I am here in regards of possibly requesting a reader that loves science and is almost like Senku Ishigami from Dr.Stone except she’s more open to relationships and love. She has an ability called ‘Eyes of Agony’ and when it’s activated, her eyes turn red and if she locks eyes with someone, they immediately begin writhing in pain and agony. She hates using it unless her boyfriend (of whomever you choose to write) bribes her with government-only materials for her experiments or quality time together

I would prefer Jouno, Ranpo, or Tecchou. I don’t need all three, but if you choose to do only one or two, I prefer Jouno or Tecchou because I’m on my hunting dogs brain rot rn.

Please take your time with this and remember to prioritize your own wellbeing over the satisfaction of a random follower of yours. If you choose to discard this, Sall good, I understand, just be sure to take care of yourself.

AAAAAAAAAAA MY FIRST REQUEST, you have no idea how much I screamed when I saw this.

Ngl I have never watched Dr.stone but i seen little clips of it. I absolutely love science as well. I did some research as well just to be sure of what to write but i apologize if i get the personality of Jouno or Tecchou wrong. Mmm they pretty tho-

Part 2 Jouno: HERE!

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Notes: Advid science lover, Painful Ability, Easily bribed by BF (Spending time together or extremely hard to get Materials for experiments)

Not automatic ability, Obvious when used, probably either has backfired or feels guilty using it

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Tetchou Suehiro

Tetcho...this sweetheart would promise you quality time

He knows you hate using your ability, sadly they needed it this one time

He would give you all the cuddles and kisses that you want

Takes you out on a date if you like that too

Would gladly listen to your ramblings of your experiments

much sweetheart

he's very cute

How unfortunate. Why is it the one time your beloved boyfriend asks you to do something that is the ONE thing that you hate doing the most? The blank stare could have given anyone the chills, anyone except for your boyfriend, that is. Tetcho looked apologetic but unrelenting as he was waiting for your verbal response.

"Why should I? Don't you have Jouno or Teruko for that? Why would you have to bring me in for something those two can do?" It was apparent how unwilling you were to entertain the request, especially by crossing your arms. "Unfortunately, both of them wouldn't be available, and you're our only option. Normally, we would have waited for them, but I was asked to come to you because of how time-sensitive this is. I'm sorry." Knowing that this wasn't his fault, you huffed out in annoyance. "I would question if you were serious, but I know you are. This is such a pain. " Looking off to the side, it was hard for you to choose to allow through with Tetcho's proposition or to deny it. A soft mutter was heard between them, "Is there no way to just ask the other two?" The dark-haired man shook his head in denial. You were about to say something when the man piped up. "If you were to help, I'll work out something with the captain and stay home for a week with you." That was all it took to convince you to hop on board. Jumping into your boyfriend's arms, Tetcho got his answer. Unfortunately, you were in excruciating pain for the first few days that Tetcho was home. Thank god he was there to help out and take care of you.

________

I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG. Here's part 1 of the request above. If you have any feedback, please let me know. I ACTUALLY DO FEEL BAD THAT I TOOK LIKE 4 MONTHS TO DO THIS, BUT HERE IT ISSSS.

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #tetchou x reader #tetchou suehiro x reader #tetcho suehiro x reader #tecchou x reader

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wackpedion · 11 months

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I FINISHED CH4 RAINCODE

I cant believe it. Seth is probably dead. Yakous dead. Furroughs is DEAD. (Also apparently Yakou had a wife who died four years ago but its FINE I can work with this)

So I don't know where to start?? For one I was SCARED of Vivia, I did NOT trust this man. AND FOR GOOD REASON APPARENTLY SINCE HE THREATENED TO KILL US. And the way we actually had to fight him in the mystery labyrinth? OUGH UNEXPECTED

When I first started the labyrinth I WAS unsettled by the idea of him remembering the mystery labyrinth after the fact, seeing as his memory seemed unaffected and I didn't trust him with knowledge about this place and Shinigamis power, but by the end it kind of worked out between the two of them so that's nice :)

I did kind of think that the culprit was Yakou, mostly because of Vivias 'Can you face the truth?' talk, but I discarded that theory cuz yk the man got killed by Fink, BUT THEN AS WE WERE NEARING THE PART WHERE ITS REVEALED I WAS LIKE "NO FUCKIING WAY. NO WAY IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED. OH MY GOD IT HAPPENED."

Also the way Shinigami didn't violently reap his soul as with the rest, but gently embraced him? GUH DONT DO THAT TO MY HEART

urghghfhj and the last part of the mystery labyrinth where we get Yomi being revealed as anonymous and that he manipulated Yakou? I HATED HIM SO MUCH. I rarely hate or get mad at characters, when I do its more because of writing rather than them themselves and what they do/say, BUT SOMEHOW THIS MOTHERFUCKER BREACHED THOSE BOUNDARIES AND MADE ME FEEL ACTUAL ANGER AT HIM

(Also sidenote I DID predict that Yomi was anonymous, so wooo)

Also why do chapters always end with such a bang, QUITE LITERALLY IN THIS CASE. I didn't expect a terrorist attack on WDO, and while I was suspicious of Makotos "gift" I basically forgot about it so when that came back I was like WOAH

Btw some notes on like the scene in the detective agency, one it hit different walking around talking to the characters inbetween continuing story without Yakou there, sobs. second, i tried walking out of the room before talking to Halara about their info, and the dialogue says "I should see what SHE has to say" AND I HAD TO DO A DOUBLETAKE. I might do a separate post talking more in depth about this because its giving queerbaity and I don't like how this just gives ammunition to people who believe Halara isnt enby despite EVERY OTHER MOMENT coding them as such. It's so weird, I can only assume it's a typo especially in such a small optional piece of dialogue but its still disheartening since lgbt rep is so hard to come by

#raincode #rain code #rain code spoilers #yomi hellsmile #yakou furio #halara nightmare #master detective archives #vivia twilight

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theniftycat · 10 months

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Angels, Demons, and the Inevitable

A Good Omens Analysis done by an atheist who’s kinda invested in Christianity. Avaunt if it might make you uncomfortable.

Themes, through lines, and tendencies - Part 2

Parts: 1, 2, 3.1, 3.2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

As the second episodes starts, we see angels entering Aziraphale's shop.

Gabriel has no idea what books are. He's the Supreme Archangel and for the past 6000 years he's been working on this little project called "the Earth", but it wasn't enough time for him to get acquainted with it. See, he's been very busy, overseeing stuff like, like... uh... obedience of the angels? Celestial hierarchy working like a well oiled machine? Besides, books have only been around for like a 1000 years! It's so hard to keep up!

We're also properly introduced to Sandalphon, he looks like your least favourite coworker and he's known for a lot of smiting. Just a decent guy all around.

Angels come to Aziraphale to ask him about the Antichrist's birthday and him getting the Hellhound, but they hardly even do that because everything's going according to the Plan, how else can it go?

Meanwhile, Crowley is met with the opposite attitude from Hell. They assert that Armageddon will happen as smoothly as possible because everything's already been arranged. And it's a threat.

Crowley doesn't feel like a proper demon. His personality never fundamentally changed, he just became a demon because there were only two options.

Then we move on to Agnes Nutter, she predicted everything up to the Armageddon, but she couldn't predict the time of her death exactly.

Agnes, being a witch, is an agent of chaos. She's not interested in Heaven or Hell, she embraces humanity with all of its sides. Her goal is to prevent the end of the world, but...

With everything she predicts being foreseeable, where does the knowledge come from? Is everything truly written if it can be literally written down in a book?

She's not willing to go down without a fight, too. She wants humanity to survive, but she's okay with killing those who came to kill her. Truly, a human incarnate.

Her prophecies only apply to things directly connected to her descendants, and maybe, maybe that's actually the main thing she cared for. She just wanted them to live happy lives, that's why she paved the way for them. And it has nothing to do with higher powers.

It seems that Crowley spends most of his free time sitting in his throne, moping. We get a glimpse of him being angry at himself for misplacing the Antichrist. If he did it right, he could easily get rid of him, but alas.

Bold of God to tell us what Crowley wants to achieve with his plants. Discarding them after finding a single flaw? Making an example of the imperfect ones? Ensuring that fear is their main motivation? Very bold of God to tell us all of that.

Crowley is very fast to disperse responsibility for something he did. Just because otherwise he'd blame himself too much.

Aziraphale can feel that Tadfield is loved because he has allowed himself to embrace this feeling. He allows himself to love things and it brings him joy. He loves small things, big things, all kind of things, and he gives into this feeling. He knows what loving is.

For example, he loves his coat. And apparently, he's been taking care of it by human means because he doesn't want to miracle the stain away, it wouldn't feel real. Now, when Crowley does it, it's fine. External forces stained his coat, external forces cleaned it. It's almost like nothing even happened!

Aziraphale then says that guns in good hands are good, actually. Again, violence is acceptable if it's for the greater good.

It doesn't make that much sense to Crowley though.

He turns paintball guns into real guns because for him there's no much difference between pretend violence and real violence. Why would they play war if war is awful? That will show them.

And people do use this right. They shoot at each other despite figuring out that the guns are real.

Crowley wants to make a point to Aziraphale that if you give people guns, they'll use them, but he doesn't want people to pay with their lives for that lesson. He wants them just, you know, to be scared, traumatised and arrested. Nothing wrong with that.

All that Aziraphale understands is that Crowley should be wanting to murder people, but he doesn't, and that makes him nice.

Crowley is a demon who's tired of being a demon. He'd like people to learn their lessons, but they never do.

Now, on a lighter note, Crowley doesn't immediately let go of Aziraphale, Aziraphale too doesn't feel the need to get freed asap. There's no fear in either of them when it comes to being in this situation.

Aziraphale is very attached to angels being the good guys.

Crowley really can't accept any more guilt in his life.

Aziraphale tends to Anathema and her bike while Crowley just wants to deny any responsibility and get away as soon as possible.

While "angel" is an accurate term that has good connotations, I can't help but feel that for Crowley it's a word of separation. "We're different," it says. "You're better than me."

Aziraphale thinks that humans work like angels and demons.

There is a lot to be said about Aziraphale hiding from Crowley the fact that he'd found Agnes Nutter's book. Distrust? Possessiveness? Wanting to take it to Heaven first? All of the above? He's a good angel right now, don't get me wrong, but at the moment he's also a bad friend.

___________________________________

This is the second part of my analysis. It’s based on the second episode. Further parts will follow, one per episode.

I haven’t reread the book for this, it’s based only on the show, so if you see any points that can be made differently based on the book, don’t fault me.

Parts: 1, 2, 3.1, 3.2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #good omens meta #religion tw

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 1 year

Note

youve got based thoughts on primeboys tbh. metal tommy is a fantastic idea. like. imagine being so obsessed with the image of this kid you have in your head that you make a copy of him?? or better yet we go the rusty rose route and he was the tommy we knew at one point but hes so warped by the upgrades and such that hes near unrecognizable. woof dude.

oh i have a lot of detailed thoughts on him based off a dream i had last night!

so basically, instead of straight up killing sam, dream forces him to build him metal tommy instead. he's this uncanny valley nightmare creature, being very clearly tommy but also being built entirely for combat with sharp edges and raised armoured sections, big ass claws, a million embedded weapons, and jets in his feet to improve his mobility. also the black and red eyes and lack of mouth bc i gotta pay homage to the little terminator hedgehog who named my blog after all 🥰 dream is the only person who doesn’t find him inherently terrifying and offputting.

mentally, he's designed with two goals- first, capture tommy dead or alive and keep him from escaping for his “papa” dream, and second to obey all of dream’s orders without question. sam deliberately programmed them to take priority in those order in the desperate hope that if he malfunctioned due to that dream would just discard of him. obviously, he’s not designed to outright defeat tommy- dream doesn’t need him as his protege anymore, he’s got metal tommy for that, but he still finds him entertaining and sees him as a friend in a deeply unhealthy and dehumanising way, so he wants to keep him alive, just not free, and if he has to revive him a few times so be it.

dream is… not a good dad to his new robot child. he's expected to basically be the protege version of tommy that dream was working towards in exile, but he’s an entirely new person who's literally just came into existence and despite having a wealth of mad science, necromancy, tactics, and combat knowledge in his head he's still essentially a newborn. while he can’t physically hurt metal tommy, since he's basically indestructible and can’t feel pain, he sure as fuck can mentally abuse the shit out of him for failing to live up to an expectation he could never be reasonably assumed to reach!

so metal tommy is like, a fucking mess personality wise. he's essentially an emotionless quiet killer robot out of choice, because he's terrified of ever saying or doing the wrong thing. he mimics tommy obsessively, because if he doesn’t act close enough to him he's punished. he literally has no sense of right or wrong. he's desperate to please his “papa”, knowing nothing but him and his very conditional love, but he's perceptive enough to pick up on the fact he’s just a substitute for his “uncle” tommy in dream's head and desperately wants to prove that he's the better tommy, and that he deserves love more than him- because as much as dream's friendship with tommy is incredibly fucked up and obsessive, metal tommy has known literally no other.

also, y’know. tommy might essentially be sonic personality wise, but he’s also way more traumatised and physically destroyed from the world around him. he's not going to be able to have cool fights with his robot doppelganger or anything, he's going to get fucked up. he can’t fight- his only options are to use his wits, his words, or to run like hell. and it’s not like metal tommy is an undefeatable threat, but he’s not a fightable one. nor is he able to be reasoned or sweet-talked out of his obsessive goal- he has no choice but to fulfill his programming, whether he wants to or not. and it’s only a matter of time before he decides he’s going to prove to his papa that he’s the only one worthy of his twisted affection whether he wants it or not, and then he won’t even be taking orders from dream anymore.

so yeah that’s how u make metal sonic an even more fucked up concept.

#metal tommy au #primeboys (derogatory)#dream smp #abuse tw #kidnapping tw #obsession tw #posessive behaviour tw

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snailythefan · 1 year

Note

You have made some interesting posts about how Kris may dislike Ralsei, while being forced by the SOUL to act like they like him. (And Ralsei looked fairly sinister in that one panel) Could you expound on that?

OHOHOOHOHO you guys know i love talking about my ships so of course i SHALL

Man get ready for yet another loooong post of my thought process on those particular pieces (I might be repeating myself because I've explained this in the past I think? But I am always happy to talk about my hcs)-

So, first of all, this all derives from me being a strong believer in the "ralsei is kris' old headband" theory and all that implies.

Based on that theory, I am assuming that Ralsei is a manifestation of what Kris might have wanted to be like when they were very young (a goat monster that fits with their family and is someone that everyone likes because they're Super Nice).

But Kris moved way past that when we start deltarune, and because of the way they don't seem to especially like ralsei or how we get the general idea that they're quite the troublemaker, I read that as "They became disillusioned with the idea of what they wanted to be when they were younger, and thus, would dislike seeing that in someone else"

Therefore, Kris doesn't like Ralsei that much (ehem BUT I DIDN'T SAY HATE! I genuinely think they're at a basic friendship level for now, but they don't have a bond as strong as Kris and Susie have, u feel?)

So for that reason, for me kralsei as it is right now is quite one sided! It's super obvious Ralsei has feelings for Kris, or at least he has a huge favoritism for them. (I like that about it because I am a sucker for angst and yearning, but allow me to elaborate further!)

So- Here comes The Player. We get many options throughout the game to hug Ralsei and generally be super nice and sweet to him, because of course WE would love the fluffy boy right? (How can you not love him????!!!!)

...But Kris just doesn't like him as much as we do. The strongest proof of this is that the only person they want to take to the festival is Susie. They are confused when we make them say that they'd like to take Ralsei to the fest. So that's just a canon fact, Ralsei likes Kris very very much but it's just not reciprocated.

(It haunts me!)

>Ralsei looked fairly sinister in that one panel

And ohohoho, to continue onto my reasons-

So we all know how Ralsei is kinda weird in that "he knows a bit too much, and he seems like he is hiding something" way right?

Part "he knows exactly why Kris doesn't like him (ehem, discarded headband)", part "hiding he knows about the player control" I think Ralsei is in a difficult position.

He wants to be loved by Kris, but... (Well this part is fuzzy for me because we JUST aren't privy to Ralsei's true intentions as of now)

Is he loyal to the player because he is forced in some way to play a role in the narrative of deltarune?

Even while being forced to play a role in the story, he still wants to help Kris because he loves them?

We don't know! Either way, you can see why "Kris doesn't like me" is a problem for him. It either means that he's failing at his role, or that his true feelings aren't attainable. It's the sort of thing that might drive a Darkner to madness :)

(This ALSO haunts me!)

um, thank you very much for your question! I LOVE speculating about Ralsei a lot!!!!!!!!!!!!

#readasaur #ask box

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endlessbittersweetdreams · 1 year

Text

"Broken & Beautiful" Chapter 5

CHAPTER WARNINGS: It's a little steamy in the beginning. Harsh language. Brief mention of "treats." You know, what you can usually find in an episode of "Sweetbitter."

It’s pouring outside, and I’m vaguely aware of the sound of raindrops hitting the windows as Jake works his magic on me. His hands trace the curves of my body and his mouth dances across my sensitive skin. We’re still stretched out on the sofa, our clothes long since discarded, the only warmth coming from our own bodies. We should move this to the bedroom, I know. We would certainly be more comfortable. But I don’t want to lose contact with him, even for a moment. I want us to remain here, our bodies pressed together and entwined, for as long as possible.

I can feel Jake’s breath against my ear as he asks if I’m ready. I nod, utter one word (“Yes!”), and then close my eyes and --

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

I let out a startled yelp and sit bolt upright in bed, heart pounding and skin flushed. Panting, I run my hands through my hair and sit still as I work on slowing my breathing down. The alarm is still beeping incessantly, and I turn my head to glare at it. It’s bad enough when my insecurities prevent me from getting what I want in the waking world. Now this THING has the gall to do the very same thing to me in my dreams?

I growl, grab the nearest pillow, snarl a few choice words at the alarm, and then knock it off of my nightstand with my weapon of choice. It lands hard on the floor, but it doesn’t break apart and it doesn’t stop beeping. The damn thing is taunting me.

I glower down at it and let out another growl as I get out of bed. I pick it up, switch it off, say “I hate you!” through my teeth, and put it back on the nightstand. I don’t care that I’m the one who set the alarm. Far as I’m concerned, this clock is the enemy. Talk about a mood-killer.

When I’m this stressed out or worked up over something, I turn to my list of “go to,” methods for dealing with the issue.

1. Clean the apartment.

2. Yoga or go for a jog.

3. Listen to music or work on my own material.

4. Read.

5. Take a bath.

With the exception of a few dirty dishes in the sink, there’s nothing to do housekeeping wise. So I can check off that option. I’m not in the mood to go for a jog, and so I try yoga. That doesn’t work because there are a few poses that ... Well, you get the idea. I try working on my latest original song, but I just end up plunking out a few random notes on my guitar without really thinking about my work. I don’t feel like listening to music, and reading Pride & Prejudice is out of the question. Why would I want to read about the love story between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy when my own love life is a trainwreck?

It’s my own fault, really. I spend so much time worrying about the “what if’s,” that I deny myself a chance at true happiness. I’m so afraid of being hurt that I keep men at arm’s length.

The only exception is Will. We actually dated for a semester back in college. The only reason we broke up is because we both realized we didn’t actually have feelings for each other. With the exception of some heavy make-out sessions, our relationship didn’t even become physical. I never have been able to figure out why, but the chemistry was never there. And Will, out of all the men I’ve dated, is the one I should want to be with. He’s reliable. Sweet. Thoughtful. Intelligent. Kind. Good-hearted. He possesses all of the qualities that any woman would desire. But I just ... I never have been able to look at him as anything more than my best friend.

Who do I want instead? I want the broody, aloof bartender who reacted so coldly to me last night. I don’t blame him for being annoyed. I really shouldn’t have allowed things to go as far as they did. But the least he could have done is hear me out. I wanted so badly to explain to him why I stopped things. I was ready to lay it all out on the line in the hopes that maybe - just maybe - he’d understand; that he’d realize that I do want him, but I’m terrified of being hurt.

I pin up my hair and decide that a bubble bath sounds wonderful. While it may not quiet my thoughts, at least it will feel good. While the tub fills I light two incense sticks, and the bathroom is filled with the calming scent of lavender. Ever since I found that sachet in my locker, I’ve become addicted to this scent. I leave the incense to burn in their holder on the counter, and then shut off the water and sink down in to its soapy depths. I lean back, close my eyes, and work on centering my thoughts.

I want Jake. That much is certain. But I’ve come to realize that it goes beyond mere lust. I want to be with him. Not just within the confines of the bedroom. I want to do silly things with him like go out on dates with him. Hold hands. Go grocery shopping. Snuggle together on the sofa while we watch TV or listen to music. That night that we spent together, when all we did was talk and sleep, became the catalyst for all of these feelings. I’m smitten with this brooding, aloof bartender who held me as I wept and walked with me just to make sure I got home safe. I won’t call it love. It’s far too soon for that. But ... it’s definitely something worth exploring.

I get out of the tub, decision made, and wrap myself up in a towel while the water and suds drain. I go over to my sink, blow out the put out the incense sticks, and wipe the steam off of the mirror. I stare at my reflection in the mirror for a while, and then I notice it: the bruise from the “love bite,” Jake left on my shoulder. Usually, such a thing would irritate me. I’m going to have to find some way to cover it up, after all. But I’m not bothered by it. In fact, I smile to myself as I trace its outline with my fingers. A faint blush appears on my cheeks, and I reach a decision: I want Jake, and I’m not going to let my fears get in the way.

When I get ready for work, I decide that a simple pair of jeans and a plain top just won’t do. Today, I feel like standing out. I don’t go overboard, but I’m pleased with the results all the same. I’ve opted to tie my hair back in a ponytail instead of a bun, allowing a few strands to frame my face. Gold hoop earrings replace the simple ones I usually wear, and I choose makeup that enhances my best features while remaining conservative. The white, lace-trimmed blouse that I wear is tucked into a pair of light blue denim jeans with a simple black belt. To complete my look, I pull on my leather jacket and black leather boots.

I stand in front of my floor-length mirror and turn from side to side, satisfied with how I look. I know I’ll only be wearing these clothes for a brief time before work, but I need the boost of confidence. After making a few minor adjustments, I grab my purse and leave my apartment and walk in the direction of the restaurant. Butterflies are fluttering around in my stomach, and I’m a bundle of nerves by the time I make my way through the back entrance and up the stairs to the locker room. I pause just outside the door, take in a steadying breath, and then step inside.

Much to my disappointment, Jake isn’t in here. Instead, the locker room is occupied by Ari, Sasha and Will. Sasha is sitting on the sofa with his injured foot propped up on a bucket, a bag of ice draped over it. Ari, meanwhile, is adding the finishing touches to her makeup while Will finishes getting ready.

“Hey, guys!” I greet them, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I really wanted to talk to Jake now, before my nerves get the best of me and I chicken out.

Will is the first to turn my way, and he looks me up and down. He even seems a little flustered. “Wow! Look at you. That’s, uh ... that’s new.”

Ari stops in the middle of applying lipstick long enough to glance my direction. “You look hot,” she says, before she goes back to her task.

I smile and do a little slow-turn for them. “You think?”

“Oh, shut up! You know you look good!” Sasha bellows from the sofa.

“So, what’s the occasion?” Will asks, tucking his dress shirt into his trousers.

Ari finally turns her full attention to me. “Big date with a certain stock broker?”

Apparently, she wasn’t paying attention when I told her that David was a creep. I blink at her a few times and then answer “No. I just ... felt like doing something different.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Will states before he makes his way out of the locker room. Sasha follows a little while later, while Ari stays behind.

“No. Seriously. What’s going on?” she wonders as she pops one of her “treats,” into her mouth.

“Nothing. I just ...”

I trail off when Jake walks past us, and I try to play it cool. But there’s one thing about Ari that can sometimes be very frustrating: she tends to pick up on things at the exact wrong time. I don’t know if I’m blushing, or if there’s simply something about my energy that Ari notices. Either way, she’s caught on and her eyes widen in shock.

“No fucking way!” she whispers, and I begin to gesture at her wildly while Jake’s back is turned. “You and Jake?”

“Ari, stop!” I whisper back before I pull her out of the locker room and over to a place that isn’t within Jake’s hearing range.

“I thought you said that there’s nothing going on between you two,” Ari says, narrowing her eyes at me.

“And there wasn’t ... at that time. I just ... Last night, Jake walked me home. We talked. We had some dessert and --”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” She smiles mischievously at me. And now, I know I’m blushing.

“Look. We ... we kissed. Okay? And we probably would have done more, but I stopped him.”

“You did what?!”

One of the dishwashers walks by and startles at Ari’s outburst, and I immediately clamp a hand over Ari’s mouth. “Ari, will you PLEASE keep it down?” When I’m certain Ari isn’t going to have another outburst, I move my hand away. “Yes. I stopped it. I panicked. And now, things are a little weird between us.”

“Well, obviously.” She unwraps a piece of gum and puts it in her mouth, grinning as she chews. “So, do you want him?”

“Well, obviously,” I mimic her.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“I was going to talk to him. But I don’t want to do it in front of everyone.”

“Now’s your chance. You know he takes forever in there.” She fusses with my hair a little and then shoves me forward. “Go for it.” I stumble a bit, catch my balance, and then turn back to look at her. “I want details,” she says before she walks away with a wave.

I return to the locker room just in time to see Jake take off his t-shirt, and I have to stifle a gasp at the sight. Because of the angle he’s standing in, I don’t see much. Just his back and his left arm, which I notice bears some tattoos that I’m now very curious about. But he’s still a sight to behold, and I can feel my blush deepen as I avert my gaze and walk over to my locker.

“Hey,” I greet him, my heart pounding in my chest as I slide off my jacket.

“Hey,” he responds.

It’s awkward between us, which is one of the things I feared. Suddenly, the words I wanted to say to him become lodged in my throat. I can’t get them out, and I feel like I’m choking on them. It isn’t until Jake walks by me on his way out that I muster up enough courage to reach out and lightly grab him by the arm, stopping him in his tracks. He looks at me for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then looks down at where my hand is. He doesn’t say anything, but I still feel a pit in my stomach.

“Jake, can we talk? Please?” I look up at him with pleading eyes, my hand moving away from his arm.

His expression seems to soften a bit and he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Sure. After work.”

I give him a tiny smile. “Yeah. After work sounds good.” He turns on his heel and leaves, and I let out a relieved sigh. Well, at least he’s willing to talk. That’s good.

I’m a nervous wreck by the time the shift ends. Turns out working alongside the man you have feelings for, when he doesn’t realize it, isn’t as easy as it sounds. Let’s just say a wine glass met its early demise because of my nerves. Ari hasn’t helped much, either, giving me conspiratorial looks and pestering me to “Just tell him already!” Things have become worse now that Heather knows, having found out purely by accident, and I’ve been living in a constant state of paranoia.

I bide my time, waiting for the right moment to go with him somewhere private so we can talk. That time comes near the end of Shift Drinks, when nearly everyone has cleared out and gone to Home Bar. Heather and Ari are still here, of course, wanting to know how things turn out. Sasha, it seems, is unaware of what is going on. Either that, or he simply isn’t invested enough to stick around and he figures he’ll find out the details at another time.

Jake and I are standing behind the bar, a short distance away from each other. I glance over at him a few times, steeling my nerves, before I blurt out “Can we talk now?”

Jake is focused on wiping down the bar, and he doesn’t look at me as he answers “Sure.”

“In private.”

He stops what he’s doing, looks at me for a moment, and then nods. He leaves the bar mop behind and leads the way, and I cast a nervous glance back at Ari and Heather as I follow him. We make our way down to the basement and find a spot where we can talk. We’re standing a few feet away from each other, and I can feel the tension already. I lean against the wall while Jake stands near a shelf of wine, arms crossed in front of himself.

“What’s up?”

“I, umm ... I want to talk to you about last night.”

“What about it?”

Ouch! This isn’t starting out well.

I decide to try to move past this little hiccup, and I tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear as I continue. “Well, I just want to ... apologize.”

He blinks at me, confused. “For?”

Now I’m flustered, and I begin to babble. “Well, not apologize. I mean, I ... What I’m trying to say is ...” Another deep breath, followed by a nervous exhale. “I want to explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain! I saw an opportunity and I took it. You stopped it. It’s not a big deal.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded, and I take a few steps toward him. “An opportunity? Is that all it was to you?”

He nods and looks down at me, unflinching. “That’s right.”

I step away from him again and start to pace the floor, threading my fingers through my hair in frustration. I can feel my blood simmering as I begin to gesture wildly. “So I really mean so little to you? I thought we had a --”

Now it’s his turn to step toward me, and it takes all my willpower to keep myself from slapping that smirk right off of his face. “A what? A connection?”

He now has me backed up against one of the shelves, and I feel the sting of tears forming in my eyes. I’ve never seen him like this, and it scares me. All I can do is nod weakly as I stare up at him.

“Why do you think I’ve been spending so much time with you?”

“I, I thought --”

“It’s because I wanted to fuck you. And now I don’t. So are we done here?”

I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut and had my ripped heart out all out once. I can’t breathe and I can barely stand as I hang on to the shelf for dear life. It was a lie. All of it. Nothing but a game to him; a way to set me up so I’d give him what he wanted. I was right all along. He never cared for me.

I search his face for any sign of remorse, and for the briefest of moments I think I see it. But it’s too late now. The damage is done. I don’t think there is anything he could do or say that could make things right or remove the metaphorical dagger that has been shoved through my heart.

He finally backs away from me and makes his way out of the basement, and my legs suddenly lose their strength. I collapse to the floor and cover my mouth, my breaths coming in quick gasps as I try to keep myself from crying. I lose the battle, bring my knees up to my chest, wrap my arms around them and sob openly.

@anastacia-lynn

#jake x oc sweetbitter #jake sweetbitter #sweetbitter jake #sweetbitterstarz #tom sturridge sweetbitter #tom sturridge

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celticcrossanon · 2 years

Text

BRF Reading - 17th of June, 2022

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 17th of June, 2022

Question: Were Archie and Lili carried and birthed by the same woman?

Interpretation. I have no idea. Once again, the cards have told me about something else that is going on.

Card One: The Five of Swords. This is a card of not being able to win for losing. You may have won the battle before you, but you have lost far more than you gained. The card shows Orestes being confronted by the god Apollo, who gave him the choice of kill his mother to avenge his father and being punished by the gods for matricide, or not avenging his father and being punished by the gods for that. Whichever choice Orestes makes, he loses.

This is the situation here. Someone is in a no-win situation. Whatever choice they make will turn out to have bad consequences for them.

The Five of Swords can be about competing with others, seeing them as threats that you must triumph over at any cost. This is the underlying mentality that has placed this person in the no-win situation shown by the card. By trying to win over the other person in every situation, the person has put themselves in the situation where every action will have a negative outcome. This could be Meghan, competing with Catherine, or it could be the surrogate, and the position she has been placed in because of Meghan.

The Five of Swords is my card for duty, so if this card is about Meghan using a surrogate, it is likely that she will claim duty as a reason for her behaviour - 'the BRF made me do it because they said it was my duty' or something like that.

Card Two: The Eight of Swords. This is a card of feeling trapped, and stressed because you are trapped. You have limited options and are uncertain about what to do. It is also the card of having a victim mentality. the card shows Orestes standing in a semi-circle of swords, with the Furies on one side and the god Apollo on the other side.

This is how the person in the Five of Swords card feels. They feel trapped in a situation of their own making, and they can not see a way out. This is causing them a lot of stress.

This person could be Meghan, or it could be the surrogate. Whoever it is, they are trapped by their thoughts. The image I get is of someone moving quickly from option to option and discarding each one as nothing the person can think of will give her them the outcome they want.

It is interesting that the person on the card, Orestes, is surrounded by the god Apollo on one side and the Furies on the other. Gods in this deck usually represent the BRF, so it could be that the BRF is applying pressure to get some answers, and the trapped feeling is caused by trying to come up with acceptable answers to the questions being asked. The Furies could represent a potential loss of reputation, as they made a person's fault known to the world (by following and chastising said person).

Card Three: The Tower. This is how the stress and worry is going to end. Something will happen, some event will occur and part of what the person is trying to keep hidden will be exposed. It will be a relief to them, as they will no longer be trapped in the spiral of increasing stress, but at the same time the exposure will destroy part of the image they have created for themselves, and that will bring its own difficulties and sorrow with it. It will be a case of going from a very stressful and trapped situation to seeing part of your life destroyed and having to rebuild it while dealing with the fall out from your exposed actions.

Note that the Tower is surrounded by water. Water is the sign of fertility in the tarot, and this element links this card to the next card. The stormy water could indicate troubles or worries caused by the issue of fertility/children/pregnancy.

Card Four: The Queen of Cups. This card is coming across with the energy of pregnancy, which is one of the meaning of the Queen of Cups - the pregnant woman. This is what the Tower moment will be about - pregnancy, childbirth, and all the emotions that go along with it. The Queen of Cups can be a water sign person, especially a Cancer, and I am getting some Camilla energy from this card, so she may be involved in the Tower moment in some way. I am getting Princess Diana energy as well, but fainter, so she may be invoked. The strongest energy by far is that of pregnancy, and it is linked to the Tower card as the reason for the shattering event shown by that card.

Card Five: The Queen of Wands. This is one of the people who is involved in the pregnancy/tower situation and/or who will affected by it. The Queen of Wands is a fire sign person, particularly an Aries, so an Aries person will be involved in this Tower fallout in some way. I am not getting any energy to say if this is Princess Eugenie or not (the Aries in the royal family).

Card Six: The King of Wands. Again, this is a person who will be involved in the pregnancy/tower situation in some way. This is a fire sign person, particularly a Leo. It is not Princess Beatrice or Princess Anne (the royal Leos). It could be Meghan, who is a sun sign Leo, or it could be another, unknown Leo person.

The Queen and King of Wands together indicate a married couple, so as a pair these two cards could refer to Harry and Meghan.

Underlying Energy: The Hierophant. This is the card for institutions, and here it stands for the Royal Family. Something that they are doing, some questions they are asking or some line of investigation they are following is creating the stress shown in the Swords cards, and will finally lead to the Tower moment. Other institutions could be involved as well, at the request of the BRF.

Underlying Energy Two: The Eight of Wands. This is a card of moving swiftly, taking quick action. The obstacles have disappeared and you can move along your path, like the ship in the card is cutting through the water. This tells me that not now, but in the future, the obstacles currently faced by the BRF or by the institutions involved in this matter will disappear or be resolved, and they will be able to take swift action on this matter. Wands are the fastest suit of the tarot, so I would expect this to happen within a year as the energy now stands.

Major Suit: Swords, the suit of thoughts and communication. These are not happy sword cards. They speak of an increasing load of stress, of someone trapped within their own mind where they create more stress for themselves because the can not see a way out of the situation.

The suit of Swords can also indicate medical procedures, such as IVF and/or using a surrogate, so there is an indication here of some sort of medical procedure or medical issues around the carrying and birth of the two children.

Major Suit: Wands. These cards mainly appear as people. Wands are a creative energy. They can be very sexual, such as the generation of children, which would fit with the pregnancy energy in the reading. They can also be PR, so that could be involved in some way, especially with respect to the image the Wands card people present to the world.

Major Arcana: The Tower and the Hierophant. A sudden event that destroys part of your world and the Royal Family. These are the two cards that will shift the stressful energy of the Swords cards into destruction and then rebuilding (if that is possible).

Conclusion: The cards have not answered my question. Instead, we get the energy that surrounds the topic of the Sussex children. Someone is in a no win situation. Whatever they do will have negative consequences. They feel very stressed about this, and are trapped by their thoughts, constantly going over and discarding various options in their mind. This could be Meghan or it could be the surrogate. Whoever it is, they are feeling pressure from the BRF, and they are worried about their reputation/public image.

This stress and worry and tension is going to end in an event that exposes part or all of the situation and in doing so reduces part of this person's world to rubble, and/or shatters their public image. This event will concern pregnancy in some way. Camilla may possibly be involved in making it happen somehow, and Princess Diana may be invoked (just a bare possibility of this). The people affected by this Tower event will be and Aries and a Leo, and/or the married couple of Meghan and Harry.

The event will be caused by the BRF or by institutions acting on the request of the BRF. It may be the pressure applied by one or more of these institutions (the BRF and others) that triggers the event. This will happen once the current obstacles faced by the BRF and any other institutions are resolved, and they are able to take swift action with respect to the situation (pregnancy/children). It may be the Tower event that enables the BRF to take swift action, or it may be that the swift action triggers for the Tower event. I'm not sure what order things will happen.

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