#if it would ensure the other's safety‚ and if they think the other is dead or if they're captured right in front of them‚ they will fight

[curator-on-ao3]

Hey, Curator. I wanted to do this by ask instead of by comment on AO3, because I have *so* much respect for your work on Autobigraphy of Kirsten Clancy. Your creation of Martian culture? Exquisite. Your depiction of a healthy relationship between two peers striving to be part of the same organization they love and also raise a family? Fantastic. Your depiction of grief and trauma? Amazing. So since my question feels a bit critical, I wanted to emphasize that I'm not trying to start an argument or score points - I genuinely, privately want to know.

I could say nice things about the story all day. But one thing in it that I felt disappointed by was the decision not to just challenge the moral attitude of Picard and the Romulan relocation effort, but to actively change the facts of it. I think the question of whether the Federation should be allowed to break up over saying a billion lives or more is a serious one, and one that deserved the argument between Picard and Clancy. Having a narrative that says "Well, nobody really died because the Romulans evacuated them using their own resources" seems to really gut the whole moral concept of the argument - as if to say Clancy can't win it on those terms so we have to change the facts, when frankly I think she *can* win it.

Do you mind me asking what your thoughts were behind making that change? Is it supposed to be the product of unreliable narration on Clancy's part, or are you describing a different universe?

Anyway, thank you again for a wonderful story.

Oh my goodness, @ruckafangirl, your praise for that story means so much to me — and the elements you mention are quite close to my heart. Thank you, thank you! ❤️

I welcome questions (I feel like it’s an author’s dream to be asked why they made writerly choices), though I must admit I was confused at first by yours. The narrative in that story is 100% in our universe with those millions of Romulan deaths happening. Clancy’s argument with Picard following the destruction of Mars and Utopia Planitia — and her view that the Federation can save either itself or the Romulans, and the Romulans should have the resources to save themselves — is meant to be in light of readers knowing that Clancy won the argument at the cost of the future of the Romulan relocation effort since the Romulans did not turn out to have (or use?) the resources to save themselves.

I went back to the story to try to figure out what could have given you the impression that the Romulans didn’t die. Because you’re exactly right that Clancy is an unreliable narrator. She doesn’t lie whole cloth, though, and she’s painfully aware that most of her life is documented via official records and logs. I therefore worked to make her omissions both visible and sensible (e.g., she only reveals the extent of her closeness with Edward Jellico in the acknowledgments because, as she explains, he didn’t want her to talk much about him in her book). I wonder, was it Clancy’s press conference following Picard’s TV appearance that suggested the Romulans didn’t die? Because the journalist’s question, “What is your response to Picard’s critique of Starfleet’s decision to cancel the Romulan rescue?” is a fair one. And Clancy’s answer, “Starfleet is proud to have successfully handed off the Romulan evacuation to the Romulan government, which ensured the safety of its people,” is truthful, yet glosses over what “its people” means. Not all people. Not most people. And what about that handoff would have been proud in any way? I attempted to show the unreliable nature of Clancy’s glib, soundbite-oriented, political theater press conference answers by immediately having Clancy reflect on her training for press conferences from both Admiral Brand and her mother. Clancy, per her explaination of that training, focuses her press conference answers on what she views as “relevant information” while knowingly avoiding mention of deeper, uncomfortable truths — including what she perceives as Picard’s erratic behavior and his need for a brain scan (begging the question: Does Clancy know about Picard’s Irumodic Syndrome diagnosis or are her instincts that good?). Clancy correctly believes that the Romulan government took over the relocation. She possibly incorrectly believes that Starfleet therefore has no responsibility for the relocation’s failures. So she doesn’t mention them.

I hope all this makes clear that I wholeheartedly agree with you, @ruckafangirl: the moral concept of Clancy’s showdown with Picard requires those Romulans to die. And they most definitely do.

Note because of the times we live in: The Romulans die due to canon consistency. Their deaths are not a statement on my personal beliefs, their deaths are a fact of the Trek universe.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

The little buddy effect: Defined as when you (usually a version of sonic or a character made to directly parallel Sonic) have a short best friend you cherish dearly. Anyone affected by the little buddy effect has the tendency to take to others of little buddy material or who remind them of their own little buddy very quickly. While generally (although not 100% of the time) the universe of Sonic the Hedgehog mandates each person affected by the little buddy effect gets to keep only one little buddy, this does not stop this person from trying. While all relationships come and go, the one between the affected and their little buddy is one to outlast them all (as long as the little buddy is properly cherished of course).

Another name for the "little buddy effect" is "the Tails effect.

Post brought to you by...

Mightray??

Sorry, I'm reading Archie Sonic and it's like. So far in every Sonic media, none of the Sonics affected by the little buddy effect recognize the eternal bliss you may receive by cherishing the little buddy and giving them lil kisses (aka pursing at least a not completely platonic but also not famial relationship). In fact, sometimes they neglect the little buddy to pursue romance with a girl (that ultimately doesn't work out).

Meanwhile Mighty over here is like L + I'll never leave Ray behind again + get gud + no matter what we'll adventure together forever + Ratio

Congrats for being the only one to figure out the little buddy effect and cherishing the little buddy, Mighty😂😂

[stubz]

Injuries and a ship invasion, no one dies

"Why do they let humans take care of our younglings? If it hadn't been for the coalition then it would've been another century till they realize our existence. Their senses have dulled to the point where its laughable that they are the dominating species of their planet. And lets not forget the fact that they're at constant war with each other over the most stupidest things, color of skin, where one lives, who they love, what they believe, etc."

"Calis stop it! Your being a xenophobe. And while some of that is true you should know by now that the humans care deeply for our children."

"I am simply being concerned parent who worries for their young's safety and well-being...we are in a dangerous area right now, the middle of a war zone, and it would make me feel safer if we had some others at the care centre till reinforcements arrive."

"Trust me my brightest, the humans will do everything they can to ensure the safety of our Dali...and knowing them they'll likely surprise you and live up to their reputation."

"...fine, fine, I apologize, you are right. The humans have surprised me so far, what's one more?"

.

..

...

....

"WHERE IS DALI?! WHERE IS MY YOUNGLING CAPTAIN!"

"Calis calm down! Your arm!"

"NO! YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME TO CALM DOWN WHEN ENEMY FORCES HAVE INVADED OUR SHIP AND NONE OF US CAN FIND OUR YOUNG!!"

"Calis, your hurt and so is your partner. Think of Gala, they need you right now."

"...Gala is hurt because they were looking for Dali. They got shot because they were heading to the centre...I have to find Dali. For Gala, Captain."

"I'm sure that Kim and Max are doing everything they can to keep them safe."

"With all do respect Captain, how could 2 unarmed humans survive what our force couldn't."

"...I don't know but its probably going to be one hell of a story we'll be telling for the ages. Now go get your arm treated. That's an order."

.

..

...

....

"WE FOUND THEM!"

"CAPTAIN WE FOUND THE YOUNGLINGS!"

"WE NEED A CRANK AND SEND EVERY AVAILABLE MEDIC!"

"oh great stars please no...nonononono DALI!" the Delzah rushed forward, breaking through the search party, only to be stopped by their captain.

"Calis...you have to let them do their job. We, we just have to hope." he could not help the hitch in his breath. Hoping, praying, that his own child was okay underneath the wreckage that was once the youngling care centre.

They fight and thrash until eventually grief overtakes them. They collapse into the captain's arms wailing.

"...what hope do I have that my child is alive under all that rubble. Captain...the only hope I have is that they died quick and that they are with the stars now..."

"Oh Calis..." he sobs. He knows it. There was hardly a chance that anyone was still alive underneath there. Only the strongest younglings who were from a strong species may survive and his child was not one of those few. They were strong but his child was like him...a runt, the joke of the family. Too small, too weak, too soft. She was surely dead...why couldn't it have been him?

"MAPA!"

"PAPA!"

One by one, children emerge from an opening made in the rubble, and at the front of them was Dali and a small feline like child.

"my glorious star" flinging themself from the Captain Calis dragged themself to meet Dali who leaped into their Mapa's arms.

The captain was not too far behind, running to his daughter and cradling her close. Words were not exchanged but Calis could feel the vibrations coming from their purrs.

"See...I told you they would be waiting..."

last to emerge from the rubble was the humans, carried out on stretchers. Only one was conscious. Glass glittered from their skin, dirt and dust blended with vibrant red blood, staining their white bandages, and a rebar was poking out of the unconscious one's side.

"You...got everyone right?"

"Yes, human Max."

"Good...that's good..." and finally did they lose consciousness.

.

..

...

....

"Apparently they covered the windows and hid the kids in the storage room, putting them to the farthest corner while they formed a human wall in front of the door.

When those quiznaking bastards couldn't break down the door they rigged the centre with explosives. Lucky for us the humans personally requested that the storage room be made durable for the equivalent of their disasters on earth so it held up decently well."

"But how did they get so injured?"

"Decently well, meaning the room wasn't completely stable. Eventually the walls started to give and the humans had to improvise by becoming the new pillars. They took shifts until they both had to hold up the weight for what the kids guess to be 3 hours...imagine holding up all of that weight until you were on your hands and knees with rebars, broken glass, and debris piercing into your body."

"...Gala said that Human Max nearly flatlined and Human Kim needed 2 liters of blood."

"You seem confused."

"...Humans are impressive but how did they do all of that? They were already injured and yet managed to hold up a collapsed ceiling for hours until help arrived, I thought they were completely average and even weaker than us."

"Apparently when their loved ones, especially children, are in danger they tap into their more primal instincts. Allowing them to withstand a shot to the side, a slab of concrete to the head, and hours of keeping a ceiling from collapsing until they know everyone is safe.

Heard a story of a human who died only after he saw his kids was safe from a fire."

"Looks like Gala was right. Humans have surprised me once again."

[ldknightshade]

how to write a morally grey character (and keep them from being a total bore)

so. your other characters have a “clear” distinction of good and evil - that is, from your perspective, your other characters have a distinction of good and evil that aligns with your own and would generally be considered by societal standards to fall under one of two groups… but now you want to make a guy that breaks those boundaries.

look no further.

i. myths

first step is giving them a balance of good and bad traits

1. every character should have this???

2. every trait works on a sliding scale; when amped up to 11, good traits can become bad ones

those who are morally grey are unpredictable

to YOU and those they interact with, maybe… if they do not have a clear moral code of their own, of course they’ll seem this way. but they’re actually quite predictable if you actually comprehend what their motives and values are.

example: Herbert West from Re-Animator’s only motivation is re-animation of the dead. this may be evil to some, noble to others… but is it unpredictable? not really. i think we all know not to trust this man around corpses.

example: Charles Foster Offdensen from Metalocalypse’s only motivation is ensuring the health, safety, and happiness of Dethklok. he goes incredible lengths (war crimes, literally) to do so; this is evil to some, noble to others… but it he unpredictable? not really. if Dethklok is in danger, then he has dropped everything to save them and is doing so as we speak.

they’re relatable / more human

see above examples. moral greyness is not inherently relatable; in some cases, it would be argued that they shouldn’t be. either way, their moral greyness does not make them any more or less human than any other character. their moral greyness makes them morally grey and that’s that.

you need to show them doing both good things and bad things

wrong. you need to show them doing things that align with their personal motivations and values. if your character wouldn’t do it, why force it? this goes both ways.

they need to be sympathetic / have understandable reasons

anyone saying this is afraid of making characters truly morally grey. sympathy is not something that defines morals, anyway; but regardless, sugarcoating their actions and motives by making them a poor little meow meow on purpose is… bullshit. if every morally grey character was sympathetic, fiction as a whole would be dull.

ii. values

this is the real meat of it. what does your character value? is it something practical, like revenge or power? or something wackier like the previously mentioned examples?

clearly define the values your character holds and how it shapes their goals.

iii. motivation / lengths

now… how hard does motivation hit them? how far do they go? where do they draw the line? is there a line for them?

would your character lie to meet their goals? cheat? steal? manipulate? maim? vandalize? kill?

even amongst those, is there specific lines they won’t cross? would your character go as far as killing, but draw the line at children and animals?

and amongst those lines… what would make them cross it? does your character value honesty, but would lie to protect someone? are they a pacifist… but believe followers of certain schools of thought deserve a baseball to kneecaps and won’t hesitate to act on that?

draw out the line for them and then examine their exceptions. this is what will make it seem to other characters that their morality is a roulette wheel; when, in actuality, there is a line of logic that your morally grey character is following.

[mint-yooxgi]

Promises - Yandere!Kraken!Felix

Yandere AU & Kraken AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Felix X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,958

Warnings: Implied violence and shipwreck, kidnapping, Felix is a type of Sea God in this, mentions of past sexual relations. Tentacles. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Did I base the start of this drabble on the ending scene in Dead Man's Chest? Perhaps. Is this a bit tamer than the others. Maybe. Either way, I still hope you like it! I've been slowly easing myself back into writing, so I'm happy with what I've been able to do. Plus, I just fucking love the banner I made for this hehehe... Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Thirteenth of The Feral Drabbles

They thought they could keep you away from me.

They really thought they could keep you away from me.

It’s laughable. I thought it was a known rule for sailors not to anger the sea, but alas. Here we are.

The frantic screams and shouts don’t deter me for one second. I know what I came here for, and I’m not leaving without you. You’re mine. I warned them what the consequences would be, yet still they refused to give you to me. Even after we promised ourselves to each other! Can you believe that?

Oh, that sounds so harsh. It’s not like you didn’t also choose me. It’s these… these… things keeping us apart. They don’t understand our love. Think I’m corrupting you, or something.

Such bullshit. The only thing I’m corrupting is their ability to live.

They hid you on the third level, thinking you’d be safe within the deepest confines of the ship. Little do they know it’s the worst place you could be. It’s like they want you to get hurt, like they want me to kill you. Such things I would never do. 

Still, despite my anger as I tear this floating piece of wood apart, I’m careful. Your safety is my top priority, and I’ve already ensured that. Right now, you rest, cocooned inside a few of my tentacles. Magic surrounds you, ensuring none of their attacks have any effect on me or you. Like hell I’ll allow them to disturb you now. Besides, you passed out shortly after my assault started on the ship, but you don’t have to worry. I’ve got you.

I can still remember when we first met, how you told me you didn’t fare well with sea travel. Yet another offence they’ve made against you. I’ll never forgive them for their transgressions. Sinners need to pay, and I am here to pass my divine judgement on those that would call themselves ‘heroes’.

Do not fear, My Beloved. Once I finish smashing apart this pathetic excuse of driftwood, I’ll take you home. 

Where you’ve always belonged. 

With me.

These planks are so brittle, it’s almost laughable. Your captor’s pathetic attempts to defend themselves are cute, in a way. If not for the fact that every time I start to pull you out of the wreckage, more of them show up to try and hinder me. I don’t know why they’re so obsessed with protecting you now when they’ve never done so before.

I’m the one who always saves you. I’m the one who ensures you no harm. Not them.

No matter. They haven’t seen everything that I can do. My capabilities far surpass what their puny, closed off minds can comprehend. I’ve got magic beyond the darkest depths of the ocean, strength greater than the harshest of tides. There is no being, save myself, that could keep me away from you.

I don’t even know why they try.

Finally, I’m able to pull you out of that godforsaken wreckage and unleash my full wrath upon these wretches. The boat snaps like a twig as I pull the debris and all remaining survivors below the surface. 

None will survive. They don’t get to. I won’t let them.

Honestly, it’s kind of fun tearing stuff apart. I’ve always enjoyed making a mess of things. I only wish you could be awake to see just how strong your lover can be. After all, I’m doing this for you. I warned them about what would happen should they lay their filthy, traitorous hands all over you. I’m simply staying true to my word!

You know firsthand that I’m a very truthful guy. I would never lie to you, My Pearl. I would rather be slow roasted over an open fire than even think to deceive you.

Aren’t I so loyal?

Oh. Right. You aren’t awake to hear my teasing. Teasing which you seem quite fond of whenever I’m with you.

I think you just like hearing my voice…

That’s okay, Beloved. I will speak for as long as you desire me to. Besides, the feeling is quite mutual.

Gods- I can’t wait to see your face when you wake up in our home, and I get to tell you everything that I’ve done for you. Finally, we can be together, free of oppressive opinions and suppressive stares. Where I’m taking you, we can be ourselves, and the magic of my ocean will keep you safe. Eventually, when you’re ready, you’ll even become like me, too. 

Won’t that be incredible? Just thinking about it makes my whole body tingle.

Or maybe that’s just the change in depth.

I promise my home isn’t too much further out, and it’s in a safe area. You’ll be able to live here with me free of any restraints. I’ll be your comfort. I’ll be your guide. I will provide for you everything you will ever need. 

There is nothing stopping our love now.

I’ll even make sure that no sliver of the wreckage I just caused gets to you. The currents listen to me. They’re my friends, and soon they will be yours, too.

Either way, I’m glad that’s over, because now I can focus on you! I know that you’d be celebrating with me if you were awake, but for now, I’ll simply revel in this sweet victory alone. Having you safe in my arms is enough reward, and when you wake, the true celebration will begin.

Hmm, I wonder what we should do first? Should I take you to the reefs so you can see all of the colourful coral that I’ve grown just for you? Should I present you to the schools of fish that always seek refuge around my house? Get them to revel in your beauty? Or maybe I’ll worship you in the den of our own personal sanctuary, where nothing - no one - will be able to interrupt.

My Beauty.

My Beautiful, Beloved Pearl.

I’ll admit, there’s a certain ring to those names that I enjoy. It calls to me like the cavernous songs of the sirens. An enchantment I can never seem to escape: you.

Not that I want to. 

No. Never. Not since the very first time I laid eyes on you.

You’re addictive, you know that? One glance caught my attention. One melodic note of a spoken word, and I was hooked. Your eyes are deeper than the darkest sea, and I could swim in them forever. You hold me, transfixed, with your gaze whenever you look at me, and I never want it to stop.

Honestly, I can never grow tired of you looking at me. I want you to look at me, and only me. I want to be the first thing you see in the morning when you blink those glorious eyes open, and the last thing you see when you go to sleep at night. I want to wrap you in my arms and hold you close, whispering the sweetest words of all the worlds in your ears, and hear you do the same for me in return.

There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Beloved, and I will never hesitate to prove that to you. With me, you will never have to settle for less than what you deserve, for I will always give you every single thing your heart could ever desire.

Fuck- I can still remember the way your body trembled from the very first touch. The more I trailed my arms over your body, letting the tips of my tendrils caress your skin, the more your whole being warmed. You fit so perfectly in my hold, that I long to always touch you - to always be near you, and obey your every whim.

I am but your loyal servant, sent to worship the very depths of your soul. Your entire being calls to me, and I could bathe in your warmth for all eternity. Right now, it’s that warmth that I crave more than anything. That glorious nectar that seeps from between your legs beckons to me. One taste isn’t enough. I need to feel you flooding my every sense once more.

Sweet.

Addictive.

I could spend ages defining it, but nothing could ever truly put into words just how ethereal you are to me.

People always thought my existence was mere myth itself. Rumours and legends only meant to scare those away from pursuing adventure on the high seas. Nothing more than a fable to tell their children at night to ensure they don’t go off swimming in the bay alone.

They have always been, and will always be, wrong.

I’m as real at the tide, as sure as the sand that resides against the ocean floor. There is nothing in these waters as deadly as I am, and all those that oppose us will face my wrath.

Well, where we’re going, we won’t have to worry about being disturbed at all. Plenty of room for the both of us. Plenty of privacy. No one dares disturb that which should be left undisturbed. At least, those smart enough to.

That is, of course, unless I use my magic to let those sirens get a taste of their own medicine. Water echoes even the smallest of sounds, and yours should be heard for miles around. I can still hear your glorious voice calling out my name as you bathed me in your own sacred waters, and I want all to know that you are mine, and I am yours. For all eternity. 

I’ll admit… I’m addicted to you, and I can never get enough. Though, from the way I remember your hands clinging to me that night only days ago, I don’t think you can get enough, either.

Good thing we have forever to spend fully satisfying each other!

Ah… looks like we’re finally getting close to home. I can see the familiar drop off up ahead. Don’t worry, Beloved, there’ll be plenty of air for you to breathe inside. I won’t always have to keep you covered in a veil of magic. Though, I would always like to have an arm around you. Feeling your skin pressed against my own is a sensation unlike any other, and I long to never let you go.

Perhaps I should tidy up a little more before you wake. I always have way too much energy after destroying a ship. Something about adrenaline and all that.

Perhaps when you wake up you could even help me with it… You might be a bit tired and disoriented when you wake, but my magic can help with your exhaustion. You seemed to like that that last time I used it on you.

How else could we have gone as many rounds as we did?

Oh, you flatter me by pulling yourself in closer to me subconsciously when I shift into such a basic form. It easier to move around like a human within my home when it’s drained like this, and besides, I haven’t exactly shown you my entire true form yet. The last thing I want to do is scare you as soon as you wake up. You’ve already suffered the trauma of being stolen away from me today. I don’t want to make things worse.

There. All you need to do is rest now. 

In my arms? Well, who am I to pull away from My Pearl when you’re clinging onto me so tightly in your sleep? 

I truly can never say no to you…

Just rest, Beloved. This creature shall keep you safe, tucked away deeply in his heart for all eternity. Once you open those glorious eyes of yours, our own adventure will start.

Just you and me, forever. 

I promise.

[josephquinnswhore]

Hi

Can I request a fic where Ellie and Joel are traveling to Wyoming but before leaving they go to a store to pick up supplies

And Ellie asks why they are there and he’s like “I have to stock up for my family “ ( cause he left for supplies “ and she’s in shock he has a family but when they get there, they notice that the house has been raided and there are dead raiders in the house

So Joel starts to freak out and can’t find his wife and kid but then ellie finds them in a hidden shed

And when Joel rushes to them, he’s worried about the blood on her but then she’s like “ it’s not mine”

Sorry for it being so long , and it’s totally fine if you do not want to write it :}

A Mothers Strength

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: you and your baby aren’t where Joel left you, instead there is a trail of blood and two bodies he doesn’t recognise.

Word Count: 3.1k

Content Warning: typical tlou violence, reader bashes someone’s brains in, (out) Joel has a mild panic attack.

Note: I’m gonna make this so angsty lol. Thanks for the request I love you anon 🫶🏼🥰 this is one of my new faves!!!!

If there’s one thing Joel taught you; it’s not to panic, to think rationally and do what you have to do to protect yourself; to make sure you were the one that survived, no matter what that entailed. Joel was gone, he had gone to do one last trip to the Boston QZ, he had gone to trade some pills and alcohol for a car battery, he had found a truck a while back but the battery was busted, he claimed Tess knew someone who had one, he hated leaving you, and your 6 month old daughter. But he knew if you had a car, it would ensure safety compared to travelling on foot. That was 5 days ago, it wasn’t unlikely that something had happened, trading in itself was a danger that set you on edge, let alone travelling by himself back and forth with one measly gun and a whole city worth of infected, however many were out there, you would imagine it’s a lot. You had to learn to fight while you were pregnant, you couldn’t be in the Boston QZ and be pregnant, they wouldn’t allow it. Joel helped you escape and you’d been travelling since, looking for a safe haven and trying to find Joel’s brother Tommy. You’d learned you were capable throughout your pregnancy at taking out infected. Very capable.

Unlike Joel however, you had never had to face up against something even worse, other people. Joel had told you stories of when the infection first began, the things he did, the things he and Tommy did to survive, it was essential, survival of the fittest and you had never reprimanded or judged him for it once. Now you were finding yourself in a situation where you would have to find yourself in Joel’s shoes, you would have to find the strength to take lives of people if necessary, to protect you and your daughter. Joel had boarded up the windows and doors before he left, which apparently only made the raiders more suspicious, their murmurs outside becoming louder and more aggressive as they tear down the planks of wood, two voices of men can be heard. You load your gun quietly and hold it to your chest, your uneven breathing causing you to shudder through your nose as you purse your lips. You take one last look at your sleeping daughter in her small hand-woven basket, blue blankets keeping her warm as they wrap around her. “I love you, so much.” Worried you’d never get another chance to tell her again. You slide the basket under the bed out of sight.

“Hey, did you hear that, there’s movement in there. We’ve got company.” One man laughed as their voices became clearer you realised the protection Joel had set had been torn down; it was up to you now, to protect your family. “What if it’s an infected man?” The other man voices reluctantly as they turn the knob and swing the door open. You tiptoe behind the door, hoping that your daughter would stay quite long enough for you to eradicate the intruders. You held your breath as the door opened and you shot the first man in the head, his body dropped to the floor with a thud, the blood seeping through the cracks of the old wooden floors. The gunshot had rung through the room, you could hear the muffled sound of your daughter crying, her wailing drew the attention of the second man who had just growled, “fucking bitch!” As he charged towards you, he had tackled you to the ground, overpowering you easily as he knocked the gun from your hands, he’s heaving from the struggle, his gun pointed at your head once he’s got you still enough. “Gunna fucking kill you then that annoying fuckin kid.” Adrenaline kicked in at the thought of something happening to your daughter, you struggle underneath him and grunt, bringing your knee up to his crotch which he groans at, “you fucking whore, gonna make you pay for that!” He’s holding the crotch of his jeans when you find a baseball bat hidden in the corner that you’d stashed days ago for an emergency in case you’d run out of bullets, you hurry back wards and grab the bat, standing to your feet and before the man can react, you bring the bat down onto his head, he falls to the ground holding the back of his head to try and protect himself from the blows.

You’re seeing red, yelling over the top of your screaming daughter, rage overcoming you as you repeatedly bring the bat down over and over again. You only stop when your arms begin to ache with a weakness that makes you drop the bat, his brain and blood is coating the floor in a slick that you almost slip on as you step over him. You bend down and reach for your daughter, taking her out of the basket, shushing her, “shh, I know baby, it’s okay. Mama’s got you.” Rocking her back and forth until she calms down. You set her back in the basket once she’s settled, you begin to rip up the floorboards in which have your supplies hidden beneath them. “Well, we can’t stay here now can we?” You tell yourself. You pack your bag full of the supplies, food and batteries weigh the bag down heavily on your shoulders, let alone trying to carry your baby in her wooden basket that’s heavy enough without a baby in it. With one hand, you somehow manage to pick up your gun, turn the safety off and stick it in the back of your jeans. You have to walk over the two dead bodies that have begun decomposing, you couldn’t stay here, not with the smell and mess to clean.

“Alright little one. Let’s find somewhere safe to stay till your dad comes back, huh?” As you take your first step out of the house that was meant to protect you; you wonder if you’ll be able to find somewhere safe, if Joel will be able to find you. You just had to hope he would.

“My pack is heavy Joel, can’t we rest?” Ellie grunts in discomfort as she shuffles the heavy backpack in an attempt to try to get it to sit more comfortably, it doesn’t.

“We ain’t stoppin’ till I say. Ain’t got long left to go so stop complaining.” Joel’s fast on his feet, even though the sun is baring down on him without mercy, he’s sweating in his long jeans and blue flannel shirt that’s well outworn and a size too small, his stomach less toned than it used to be, it was a ‘dad bod’ as you had called it, the sleeves are rolled to his elbows. The skin of his face, the back of his neck and arms are well golden now, after hours of travelling in the sun, the damage had been done and his skin was already tanned, he would have to invest in a hat, like you’d always scolded him about, was was sure you would again, after seeing how burnt he was.

“Ain’t got long now, just a few minutes up the road.” Joel clarifies, they walk along the empty tar road, the green grass is long overgrown, well over a foot taller than Joel, his eyes scan the area for raiders as he knows from past experience that they like to lurk in the tall grass and try to ambush you. It happened one time in this area and he hoped you’d never have to protect yourself like how he has, or does. “What are we doing here?” Ellie asks as Joel’s body had subconsciously led him to the small dirt pathway that led to an old house, the paint was faded green and peeling from the wood that seemed to be rotting. “My family are here. Had to trade something before we left for Wyoming.” For the first time ever, Ellie was speechless, Joel had a family? “What’s their names?” It didn’t take Joel long to notice two sets of footsteps, large, around the same size as his own in a boot print, he knew it wouldn’t be infected, it had to be raiders. “Quiet, get behind me.” Joel growls as he reaches for his gun from the back of his jeans, pushing Ellie behind him with the other arm, he walks forward and sees the wooden planks he’d hammered to keep the building closed, were now on the ground, some snapped in half, the front door was open and the silence was eerily quiet, Joel didn’t like the ache that formed in his stomach, the guilt, the fear.

“Fuck.” He breaths, pushing forward with his gun in front of him, the first floorboard he steps over, because he knows it creaks, “stay here. You hear me? Do not come in here.” Ellie nods, seeing the colour falling from Joel’s face and his orbs are blackened, his exterior is hardened and he’s never seen Joel look so fierce, she almost cant recognise the man in front of her, compared to who he was only a few seconds ago. Joel pushed forward, the dining room was clear, everything seemed to be in place which was odd, as he walks through the hallway he checks the first bedroom which is clear, again seemed untouched which he thought was weird, if it was raiders, why didn’t they raid the house? The boards along the windows had all been torn down, the windows open wide and giving the outside world a look into the house. His heart hammered in his chest as he approaches the bedroom door, where he left you, told you it would be okay, that you would be safe. He almost can’t find the will to turn the knob, scared of what lies inside the room.

When he turns the knob, he’s not expected to be hit with a stench so foul he’s taking a few steps back, he almost pulls his shirt over his nose just to try to mask it, he pulls out a bandana and secures it around the back of his neck, giving him some relief from the smell, but not much, it was a stench he knew too well; decomposition. His body is shaking as he bursts through the door, expecting to find his wife and infant daughter, he finds two bodies he can’t recognise, one with a single bullet wound to the head, the other.. was probably the cause of the smell. His brains were splattered along the floor and upside of the wall, blood was stained and now black as it leaks through the already damaged floorboards, your baseball bat sits a few feet away with a huge chip out of the wood, a giant crack through the middle and brain matter and blood splattered up to the handle. He almost lets a breath of relief escape him, seeing the floorboards pulled up and supplies all gone he can almost conclude that you survived and escaped with the supplies, but where were you? Where was your daughter?

“God damn it where are you darlin’?” He says to himself. When Ellie calls out to him. “Joel! Joel? I think you should see this.” Joel steps over the bodies and closes the door, leaving the bat behind. He meets Ellie at the front door and follows her concerned eyes to a shed about half a mile away from the house, a light shimmering from inside the shed caught their attention. “Get out your gun.” Joel instructs coldly. Ellie doesn’t ask about his family, although she can piece the puzzle together, there was something in there that Joel won’t talk about. Could it have been? She doesn’t want to ask.

“Keep up kid.” Joel quickens his pace to a jog and Ellie stays beside the man, she suddenly forgets how heavy her pack is, and Joel ignores the way the battery digs into his back as he runs; but he’s frantic now, wondering what’s happened to you. He can’t, he refuses to lose you and your baby after all he’s been through since this shitstorm started. The gravel crunches underneath their boots as they run towards the shed, the light shutting off when they get within 50 yards. Someone is definitely occupying this shed.

“Stay behind me, got it?” Ellie only nods, she starts to panic at the thought of approaching this shed, she knew nothing good could come of it, seeing the look on Joel’s face scared her. What the fuck was in that house?

You hear it before you see it, the crunching and shuffling of someone coming in your direction, you had to cut your baby feeding off your breast short, lying her down and rocking her basket for a few seconds so she’d settle and quiet down. You pick up your gun that’s set on the work bench beside you and try to peek through the small hole in the wood, to add to your terrible day- two blurred figures ran towards the shed, arms outstretched which you figured must be guns. Fuck. You look back towards your fussing baby with tears in your eyes, maybe your luck has run out. You weren’t going down without a fight. Your adrenaline was still at a high from the fight before, your body still aching but prepared to gauge out eyeballs if that’s what it took to protect your daughter. Where in the world was Joel? The shed door creaks open, it’s a decent sized shed, although you knew there were only so many places you could hide. You heard a voice, a female, she sounded young, but you can’t underestimate anyone these days, anyone and everyone is a threat. You shimmy your daughters basket under the work bench, where you’d pulled a blanket over it to give her a better chance of not being seen.

You creep behind the work benches, hearing their footsteps you can calculate where they are, you’re going in blind, you don’t know how many people they could have hiding around the area, and that’s what worries you. You see a spanned on the ground and throw it, it lands about 8 metres in front of you and it catches their attention. “Did you hear that?” The girl says, her footsteps are fast and then stop. You hear hushed whispering of a man, but you can’t hear what they’re saying. It’s quiet now, they’ve gone opposite ways around you to try and box you in, one is heading straight for the direction of your daughter, by the heavier footsteps you’re assuming it’s the man’s

Fuck it.

You rush back to your daughter, knocking over some things in the process that gain the attention of the two people, you’re sitting in front of your daughter, the cloth barely holding up, you sit with your gun in front of you, your body aching and you weren’t sure if you’d make it this time. You see the girl first, she’s holding a gun towards you and she’s scared, she doesn’t shoot. It’s obvious she’s never held a gun before and you don’t want to shoot a child. “There’s someone over here, she has a gun.” She says in a panicked state, the man comes running over from behind you, seeing you covered in blood and arms shaking, his eyes are scanning and he can’t see your daughter. “Put the gun down,” he warns the young girl, he approaches you, puts his hand over your gun and lowers it. “It’s me darlin, it’s just me. Where is she? You’re covered in blood.” The panic in his eyes and voice is evident, his body tense as he kneels down to you. You don’t say anything, you just pull down the cloth that’s behind you, exposing your fussing daughter in her basket, in the same blue blanket Joel had wrapped her in a few days ago.

“S not mine, the blood.” You’re trembling as you feel the adrenaline leave your body, you were exhausted, eyeing the young girl that was standing there awkwardly. Joel picks up your daughter, rocking her with tears in his eyes, “hi baby girl. It’s your dad, I’m so sorry I left you behind, promise I won’t ever leave you again.” Joel turns to you, “cmon darlin’, we gotta get you up.” Joel helps you up, you stand on wobbling feet like a newborn foel. He sends you a concerned look and you turn away, “I’m fine.” You lie, he notices but doesn’t protest, he’d get to the bottom of it later.

“This is Ellie, she’s comin with us. Ellie this is my wife and daughter.” The girl awkwardly waves and you mutter, “hey, sorry bout the gun kid.” She shrugs, “no big deal. You seem like you’ve had a worse day than mine.” You just shrug in respond, not wanting to talk about it.

Joel makes quick work of putting the new battery in the truck and it starts, having half a tank of fuel your luck is beginning to change. You pack the supplies into the car and Joel begins to drive, it doesn’t take Ellie long to fall asleep in the backseat. Joel’s hand rests on your leg, trying to offer some comfort. “We don’t have to talk about it, jus know I’m here for you.” You look away as you start crying, tears just fall one after another. “Said he was gonna hurt our baby, I just lost it Joel, I blacked out I just- I had to protect her. I don’t even feel guilty, that’s the worst part. I took a life so brutally and I don’t even feel bad about it.” You look to Joel and his eyes are soft, the wrinkles on his head are prominent as he frowns softly. “You did what you had to do darlin’. You kept our family safe. He was a bad man, he got what was comin’ to him. You don’t ever feel bad for protecting your family. You won’t ever have to do it again. I ain’t ever leavin’ you two again, I promise you.” Joel’s own eyes start to blur as tears fell from them, from fear and relief. “Joel?” Your voice is quiet as he looks to you, “are you okay?” He sighs, trying to even his breathing. “I saw the windows and the door open and I just thought the worst, then I smelt the blood and I was terrified that I was goin to find you and-“ he chokes up, unable to finish the sentence, he thought he would find you and your daughter dead. “We’re okay Joel. I fought, just like you taught me to.”

“An now I’m never gonna leave again, can’t risk losing you two, not after everything.” “I know Joel, I believe you.” There’s a moments silence between you when you notice how burnt he is. “You’re sunburnt.” You deadpan, unamused. Joel looks bashful as he rubs the back of his sunburnt neck, “I know. Promise I’ll get a hat soon.”

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

On Kurapika's Self-Imposed Isolation

While I recognize that probably everything I'm about to say is going to be super obvious, I just wanted to briefly touch on Kurapika's self-isolation, and the reason behind his not picking up his phone or exchanging anything more than clipped words and business after Yorknew.

I think the obvious answer is that Kurapika doesn't want his friends in harms way, or to be used as a bargaining tool against him. This is an understandable and probably accurate conclusion. After all, Gon and Killua did get taken hostage, and Kurapika was forced to negotiate an exchange. Chrollo picked up on Kurapika's "weakness" right away - that he values his friends' safety before his revenge. Fortunately for Kurapika in this situation, Pakunoda was a whole lot more similar to him than he would've cared to admit, as she placed a value on Chrollo's life even though everyone in the Spider was intended to be replaceable. So, now that he's been through Gon and Killua having potentially gotten killed or seriously hurt, and Chrollo knows that he has a soft spot for them, it does make sense that he would try to push them away for their safety and for the sake of not having an exploitable "weakness" in future. He may also not want to burden them more when they have their own lives to live - he does slip off without telling Gon and Killua for the sake of not distracting them from Nen training, after all.

Except that he already tried all this earlier in Yorknew arc. He tried to tell them they shouldn't get involved, and they all agreed that the risks were massive - but his friends agreed to undergo the risks anyways to help him. Kurapika was even grateful for it - "I have been blessed with good friends."

So, for him to push them away solely for this reason after the fact, knowing that this was very much a likely situation to happen, is a little odd to me. Kurapika knows full well that Leorio would be frustrated, Killua would be offended and Gon would worry. So, I think there's a little more to it than that, and I actually would venture to say that "keeping his friends out of danger" is more a secondary reason for his actions - one that would come across as more of a reasonable excuse to others.

The primary reason is likely a lot more selfish than that. Kurapika has to ensure his mission comes first. And unfortunately, he is fully aware that his path and choice in abilities is deeply self-destructive.

Kurapika needs to make sure that he doesn't have exploitable weaknesses, sure, but he also just as much needs to purposefully worsen his headspace - and he can't do that with those three around.

Think back, what are the happiest moments we see from Kurapika in the series? The one that comes to mind first, and the one I'm sure most of us will think of immediately, is this:

[ID: A screenshot from the 2011 anime adaptation. Kurapika smiles - he looks at ease. End ID.]

It's one of the sweetest scenes of the series imo, right before the whole group is reunited for the first time since the Zoldyck Family arc, and it's even more notable because it comes immediately on the tail end of this...

[ID: Three panels from HxH Chapter 101. Kurapika removes his contacts over the sink. His expression is distant. End ID.]

...and this...

[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 101. A close up of Kurapika's vacant and furious expression, his eyes wide and dangerous as he says "It might as well be you." Though the art is in black and white, it's apparent his eyes have gone scarlet. End ID.]

...and this.

[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 101. A distant Kurapika speaks on the phone on a rooftop at night, the cityscape of Yorknew around him dark, but speckled with lights and stars. He says "The Spiders are dead." His face is not visible to the reader. End ID.]

This is, up to this point in the series, Kurapika at his lowest. In contrast to Gon, who is happy to hear that the Spiders are dead already because now Kurapika can focus solely on finding his peoples' eyes, Kurapika... is clearly not happy - and that's because killing the Spiders himself isn't just revenge. It's penance. It's survivor's guilt. Kurapika's powers, which Izunavi even comments sound much like he is chaining himself in the process of chaining his enemies, are oh-so-beautifully prophecied to destroy him - and Kurapika was aware of this from the moment he set off down this path of revenge.

(As a side note, this is why I'm really hoping we see Gon and Kurapika interact again after the Chimera Ant arc - while Gon has always been pretty attentive to Kurapika's emotional state, in Yorknew, he lacks a true understanding of why Kurapika would go so far... but as of now, he understands rage fueled by guilt and grief all too well. I know we're all rooting for Leorio to reach Kurapika, but barring that, I really think Gon could get through to him - after all, they are similar in several ways, and I find it fairly apparent that Gon reminds Kurapika of Pairo.)

But back to the main point here - I do suspect Kurapika expects (if not wants) his revenge mission to destroy him. I think a lot of times, we forget just how young Kurapika is, and how much his character is dictated by honour, and the abandonment of it.

Certainly, he can and will go against his principles for the sake of his mission... yet, almost paradoxically, he's bound to his promise to his fallen clan; a promise to avenge them made in anger.

But Kurapika... doesn't come across as a naturally angry person to me at all.

He seems like the stoic, vengeful type on his initial introduction... and then we get his panic at Gon's recklessness

[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 2. Kurapika and Leorio wear matching expressions of panic in front of Gon, calling him out for his recklessness. End ID.]

...and his near-immediate forgiveness of Leorio after getting the first inkling of his character - of someone who cares just as fiercely as he does.

And after that point? Almost all through the Hunter Exam? Kurapika smiles so readily at them. He's sharp and funny. He mediates at times, but is stubbornly prideful in others. He's very amused by his friends' antics, and it really does seem like he starts to enjoy himself, with them. And, more than that, he counters Leorio's initial impression of him as an independent loner - on several occasions. He decides to follow Gon because Gon intrigues him. Asides from Gon, it is Kurapika who is the most unwilling to fight each other at the bottom of Trick Tower. Kurapika who makes the first move to team up with Leorio, even though that arrangement benefits Leorio much more than it does him. Kurapika who refuses to abandon Leorio to his fate in the cave, and who checks on Gon after noticing his bad mood. Who was furious enough watching him get beat down by Hanzo that his eyes went scarlet for the first and only instance outside of Spider mentions and Emperor Time. Who quite readily detoured to help rescue Killua.

[ID: Three screenshots from the 2011 adaptation Hunter Exam arc. In the first, Kurapika smiles at a sleeping Leorio. In the second, Kurapika stifles laughter as he pretends he's asleep. In the third, Kurapika has an open-mouthed smile as he acquires the airship tickets for them, Leorio and Gon standing behind him. End ID.]

Look at him! He's so bright! So happy!

...too happy. Too happy to do what he promised himself he would do. And that's his biggest fear, isn't it. Without his rage... what is he left with?

[ID: A panel from HxH chapter 2. A close up of Kurapika's eye as he says "I do not fear death. What I fear is that my rage will one day fade away." End ID.]

Kurapika is far, far less mired in anger when he's with his friends. I actually dare to say that at certain points, he was able to go for lengths of time without thinking much about it - alternating between almost forgetting in one instance and being hit like a sledgehammer on exposure to a reminder in the next. This violent swing is... actually the beginnings of the natural process of healing from loss and trauma. But to Kurapika, who's made a promise to his people's memories, this is not a relief. This is betrayal.

I think that actually scares him, that he can almost picture it. A life beyond his guilt. That he, too, could learn to be happy, even after unimaginable loss.

And so, as Kurapika continues his mission offscreen, finding more and more gruesome reminders of the cruelty inflicted on his people and losing more and more pieces of himself in the process (in his own words, no less), he prioritizes his responsibility to them, and pushes away his distractions. He cannot be a soul at peace until his work is done; he must be in turmoil. He pushes people away who he cares for, and binds himself, and keeps his people's eyes on him, quite literally, because respite, for him, is unacceptable. Perhaps that guilty part of him even hopes, by the end of this, that his soul will be so unrecognizable as to be fundamentally unsalvageable. But the truth of the matter is, or at least what comes across to me, is that Kurapika cares much more fiercely than he hates. He knows what matters most. And for as long as he does, he still hasn't truly lost himself.

[ID: A panel from HxH chapter 350. Kurapika looks down at baby Woble with a gentle, yet complicated expression. The inking is somewhat softer. End ID.]

Kurapika's soul is kind, really. And it wants to heal - but for the sake of his mission, he needs it damaged and bleeding. And so, he forces himself to exist in that pain. All alone.

[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 344. Kurapika, dressed in a black suit, sits with his back to the reader, looking down at a photo in his hand. He is slumped a little before the church vigil he has prepared, all his clan's eyes lined up in their jars and honoured with flowers and candles. He thinks to himself "There is no home for me to return to... and nobody to welcome me back. I have nothing left." End ID.]

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE CHOI FAMILY HEADCANONS

I seriously pray for you if you're related to Charles or Crystal in some way, your privacy is immediately thrown out of the damn window and you won't ever have a moment to yourself since you'll always have your sister Crystal looking out for you and Charles would make sure Gun, Goo and DG keep an eye out for you too. He'd even ask Kouji to place a tracking device in your phone and ensure he always has access to whatever you're doing on your phone, he's a concerned parent after all and he doesn't trust this toxic world filled with darkness that could corrupt you and put you in danger. Look, he might be a complete scumbag and takes the pleasure of ruining people's lives but you're the apple of his eye and he'll do anything to ensure your safety

Let's start off with Charles Choi as a parental figure for you. He'll be controlling, manipulative and won't be above gaslighting you to spend time with him. He's a businessman after all, he's Elite, when he wants something he gets it no matter what and you're no exception for it. He NEEDS to know what you're doing at every second of the day, he doesn't care how old you are, you could be a literal adult and yet he'd still treat you like a child and infantize you. He's overbearing with his protectiveness for you, you almost feel suffocated in his presence. But you won't even realize he's secretly gaslighting you and making sure you're isolated from other people other than him and your sister and the people that he really trusts, he's really crafty and subtle about this. It's for your own good, he keeps telling himself as he threatens and blackmails one of your so called friends to leave you the hell alone unless they want to end up on the news the next day dead. He doesn't care if he's overbearing for you, he has every RIGHT to be overbearing, truthfully, he doesn't even realize what he's doing is wrong. He firmly believes that he has every right to do this since you're his child after all and he's your guardian and parental figure

He likes it when you rely on him for things, deep down he's slightly worried and nervous you'll grow up too fast and leave him and your sister behind and you won't need him anymore. He can't stand and fathom the thought of you being away from him, his paranoia for your safety and fear of losing you would act in an overdrive. Charles Choi has only one weakness and that's you, the dear apple of his eye. He sees you as some defenseless vulnerable innocent little thing that would get chewed up by the world within mere seconds and he'd be damned if someone dared to take advantage of you. It doesn't matter even if you know how to fight or how well aware you are of everything happening around you, he'll still pat your head in a patronizing manner like you're some kind of child and have a slight amused smirk while you're ranting to him. Silly naive child, you NEED him to take care of you

You won't be allowed to live a normal lifestyle, you'll have private tutors to teach you and the day he'll allow you attend a public school or university would be the day HELL would FREEZE over. He knows what sort of nonsense takes place in schools and universities these days with all those cases of rampant bullying and such. He doesn't want you falling into the hands of some lowly thug with no decorum. Of course, he'd have him killed that same night but still, he isn't going to take the risk and chance of having you get hurt. Your safety matters more than your happiness, you could plead with him as much as you want regarding you wanting to go to a public school to have a normal life and he'd just outright refuse you each and every single time, it's like you're talking to a brick wall with him. By no means is he an emotional man, he has no time for such frivolous nonsense but it just doesn't sit right with him when he imagines you getting hurt and getting scars as thoughts of the worst would flash his mind when he thinks of your life at a public school which would make him even more strict about your safety. He never wants to see the day you cry, it would just...pain him emotionally. If you're crying because of him, it was probably because of something unavoidable and he'll gently shush you and wipe your tears away as he pats your head. However if you're crying because of someone else, well...that person would disappear off the face of the earth, he goes straight for the kill. He's a man of his word and always gets straight to the point without beating around the bush, so one single shot to the head to end whatever lousy scumbag who dared to make your tears spill from your eyes would guarantee him to be dead. Surprisingly he won't let anyone else do his dirty work for him whenever he has to kill someone for messing with you, he needs to feel the satisfaction of watching the light of the world and the life leave the person's eyes as he kills them. Of course, he'll cover the death up by making it look like there was some kind of gang violence going on and blame one of his chess pawns and pay off the police department to keep their mouths shut unless they want to lose their jobs and get blacklisted from every company existing

He loves to spoil you till your heart desires. Ask him whatever you want, except for your privacy and freedom and he'd be more than happy to indulge his expenses for you. You like reading and publishing books? Well, look who managed to get a publishing contract from one of the most famous publishing companies in the country? But of course, you're not allowed to publish anything questionable like romance and such, he thinks you're way too naive for such things and you're young for it. You're also not allowed to use your real name. You're also expected to show him your works before you end up publishing something and of course, you won't need to feel the pressure of the publishers and editors pestering you constantly for new works, you can write at your own leisure. Not unless they want their company to shut down and be on the streets for the rest of their miserable lives. He'll never entertain the idea and thought of someone every daring to dictate your life. Other than him of course, he has that right thanks to his twisted mindset of keeping you safe. You like singing and music? He'll get you the best brands of instruments money can buy and a whole karaoke system for you. He'd love to hear you sing and would have a smile on his face, telling you how proud he is of you for your wonderful and melodious singing, he thinks you sing as sweet as a nightingale. Well, in a way you are a nightingale trapped in a golden cage. If you're into art he'll get you the best quality of brushes and you'll have an unlimited amount of canvases and art supplies for your use. You'll have an entire art studio at the house for yourself and he'll be pleased when you hand him a painting or one of your art works. He would definitely store all your works in a secret room to ensure they don't get ruined and where he'll have access too since other people don't deserve to see your talent, they're undeserving pests who don't have the right to look at you in the eye

You won't ever get wind of what he does behind the scenes regarding the crews and gangs and how he rose to power and such and he'll do whatever the hell it takes to prevent you from finding out the truth about him. You'll be left in the dak regarding all the evil messed up things he does and unless someone wants to lose their tongue, they'd better keep their mouths shut. Also there's no reason for you to work, whatever do you want to work for, don't be silly. However if you really want to work, he make you join his company and you can have your own office just for the sake of it but no actual responsibilities. If you think of applying for jobs elsewhere, he'll pull in some strings to ensure you don't end up getting the job. He doesn't care that he's sabotaging your chances of getting a job, you aren't allowed to be away from him, away from your family, end of discussion

While Charles would handle the killings and brutal stuff, your sister Crystal handles the planning and goes for a more calculated approach from behind the scenes. If you have the habit of maintaining a diary, guess who knows all your secrets now and you've also just sentenced half the people in your diary to death. Look, she loves you and cares for you, in her own twisted manner after all, she inherited her father's possessiveness and obsessive tendencies to protect you after all. Like her dad, she views you as someone who's pure for this world and she wants to keep you sheltered in a safe bubble by whatever means necessary. She might love you but the minute you're up to something she will immediately snitch on you to Charles. Don't ever expect her to take your side though during an argument regarding your feelings of being trapped and such, she'll always side with her dad no matter what and thinks he's doing the right thing by shielding you from the world outside. You'll understand in due time how much they love you

If someone picks on you, she'll find a way to ruin their life socially by spreading allegations and such against that person and ensure their name gets dragged down in the mud. Which honestly isn't a hard thing to do for her. She is borderline insane and crazy, she just masks it like her dad, she'll be breathing down your neck every damn second of the day and she'll always have her eye on whatever you do. She'll have Gun and Goo follow you everywhere and she'll tag along as well. You're not allowed to go anywhere without her. She'll also be able to detect whenever you're lying, her eyes will narrow instantly and stare at you with a stern look on her face like a strict parent till she finds out whatever your intentions are and if they're something she and her dad won't approve of they're shutting it down immediately before that thought of yours can grow into something bigger. Even she has access to your laptop and phone, although the only contacts you're ever allowed to have are your dad, her, Gun, Goo, Kouji and DG, that's IT. Don't even THINK about dating, romance is off the table for you

You might not know about the secret of her two bodies, she prefers to keep it that way and her dad told her to let it remain a secret as well, it'll make it easier for her to be with you at all times. She's experienced a lot of bullying from people because of her weight and thinks society is shallow for prioritizing people's looks and appearances which is why she doesn't want you suffering the same way she did and she'll tell you things that'll give you a negative view of romance. She just doesn't want you getting hurt like she did, she's a protective big sister trying to keep you safe. She won't like it if you hang around Daniel too much, he's always getting in some or the other kind of trouble and the last thing she needs is for you to end up being dragged into his messes and the whole crew nonsense so she'll ensure you maintain a distance from him till she sneakily isolates you from him completely. Don't feel bad, you have her to rely on, your sister is always there to lend a shoulder for supporting you. Overall, Charles and Crystal are borderline insane, psychotic and won't hesitate to wipe out anyone who stands against them or tries to take you away from them. You're the apple of their eye after all...

[ghcstao3]

Im currently watching brave and it’s given me brain worms hehe

It’s to do with the will o’ the wisp!

Either soaps been seeing them his whole life guiding him to the task force or after a rough mission, totally lost/injured and with no way to contact anyone they guide his way back to ghost :D

Thanks for everything you write it genuinely makes my day to read all your works!!

ooh i really like this. also- apparently will o' the wisps are actually Not good in folklore so i wrote a little twist to fix that ;)

-

Throughout his life, Soap's nan had always liked to tell him stories about the many malevolent creatures he should hope to never have the misfortune of encountering—kelpies, redcaps, sluaghs; just about everything that existed in his homeland's folklore.

A little cruel in retrospect, Soap thinks, but for a while he'd just understood it as his nan's way of ensuring her grandson was to behave. They were myths, old tales and explanations for the unexplainable, and he can appreciate the determination to share tradition.

But now, as Soap is stranded in thick woods after an operation gone awry, blood sticky on his temple and a bullet stuck in his leg, he's not so sure they were just stories. Not as he's currently staring down an unnatural wisp of light in the darkness, hovering just a few feet away from where he'd collapsed against the thick, gnarled trunk of a tree.

Will o' the wisp, his mind supplies. Omens of death, his nan had told him, like many other creatures and spirits. They appear to the weary and lost like himself, flickers of glowing blue light almost hopeful as they guide one along a seemingly nonsensical path—but instead of leading someone to safety, they lure people to their doom.

The wisp just floats, unmoving, as Soap sits frozen. He tries his radio to no avail, and realizes with a great dread that he only has two options: attempt to find his own way back to his team, to anyone, anywhere, with the great risk of only getting more lost—or follow the wisp in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, it may actually lead him somewhere useful, no matter how bad the destination. Soap could only hope that doom is something he can fend off with a gun.

His decision is made rather easily because... he supposes it doesn't really make a difference, does it?

So he pushes himself away from the tree and toward the light—it vanishes as soon as he steps toward it, but with another step forward, another wisp appears.

Soap limps along, following the wisps. They weave him through trees and take sharp, sudden turns, disappearing and reappearing endlessly as Soap pursues the trail they leave. His head is on a swivel with every sound that isn't the crunch of branches beneath his own boots, with every flash of movement in his periphery.

He feels like he’d been walking forever by the time the forest has grown less dense and the wisps fade away for good—and that's when Soap sees it.

The large, imposing silhouette. The hulking figure cloaked in black. The glimpse of a skull in the sliver of moonlight that had managed to break through the forest's canopy.

Soap swallows a laugh. The will o' the wisps must have led him to Ghost, not realizing doom would have only been certain for Soap had he been the enemy.

Funny.

Ghost spots him and raises his gun, pauses, then after a moment lowers the barrel.

"Johnny?" Ghost grunts. "Where the fuck've you been?"

Soap shrugs a shoulder, wincing as he steps closer. "Lost my way running from the facility. Comms were dead." He flashes a crooked grin. "Worked out though, aye?"

Ghost snorts. "Aye," he echoes. "C'mon, then. Exfil's waiting. Save your explanations 'til then."

Soap gladly follows, relief nearly exalting.

But as they walk shoulder-to-shoulder, Soap can’t help but cast one last glance back at the trees from where he had emerged.

He wonders if the wisps had really made a mistake. He wonders if maybe they hadn't been done leading him, but Ghost had gotten in the way.

Questions he'll likely never find the answers for.

But regardless, now in safe hands—Soap thinks he had better refresh himself on his nan's stories as soon as he gets the chance.

He doesn't know now, whenever they might come in handy.

[dinodude52]

Okay, let's talk about the Titanic

Because I'm autistic and the Titanic was one of my special interests as a kid and that submersible has reignited my interest a little bit.

There were enough lifeboats. The controversy about the lifeboats came from the fact that the original designers wanted more lifeboats, but they downsized the number of boats to clear up the deck. There were regulations in place to ensure there were enough boats on all White Star Line ships. With the few collapsible boats they included on the ship, they had enough boats. The problem was they didn't fill them properly during the evacuation. Edit: I say there were enough lifeboats but I doublechecked and realized I miss remembered. The Titanic was equipped with the legally required number of lifeboats at 20 (16 on deck and 4 collapsible). The assumption had been that, in the even of an emergency, they would have the ability to be rescued fairly quickly and the lifeboats could be used to carry people to safety on repeated trips. Unfortunately, the closest ships were still too far away. The Carpathia was the rescue ship despite being further away than the closest ship to the Titanic, the Californian.

"Women and children first" wasn't the norm for shipwrecks. Typically, women and children made up the majority of the dead during such tragedies. To my knowledge, only two shipwrecks have done "women and children first," and they are most definitely the exceptions, not the rule.

On that note, one of the reasons the lifeboats weren't filled properly was because the crew on one side of the ship interpreted Captain Smith's command as "women and children first" while the crew on the other side of the ship interpreted the command as "women and children only."

The majority of the dead were third class passengers. Some did survive, but the majority didn't.

There were also a number of dogs that perished on the ship, though some did survive.

The ship wasn't going any faster than it was supposed to.

As for the ice field, they were skirting the bottom edge of said ice field. Where they were passing through, the icebergs were supposed to be pretty small.

The iceberg the Titanic collided with was unusually large for that time of year and for the location it was floating in. The weather conditions of the time made the ocean much colder than usual so the iceberg didn't have the chance to melt as much as it could have.

Though the lookouts didn't have binoculars, the sky was clear and the ocean was calm that night. If there was an iceberg, by all accounts they would have been able to see it, though it's suspected that the calm seas might have actually been a hinderance to spotting the iceberg rather than the help the lookouts assumed it would be.

On the topic of spotting the iceberg, recent research suggests that due to some atmospheric weirdness, the horizon line looked higher than it actually was. I don't remember the specifics, but it had something to do with the calm ocean and warm air from the south mingling with cool air from the north. It was also an exceptionally cold night that night, according to survivors, which might have aided the optical illusion. With the horizon looking higher than it was, the iceberg would have either looked smaller and further away than it was, or it could have been hidden completely.

The way the Titanic was built, it was explicitly designed to take damage head-on rather than from the sides. If the ship had stayed course instead of turning, it would have survived. It would have taken significant damage, but it would have stayed afloat.

The rivets used to connect the steel plates on the side of the Titanic were made of iron, I think, and an impure iron at that. The iron became brittle from the cold water so when the iceberg scraped against the side of the Titanic, the seams ripped apart like a zipper. The rivets failed completely.

The survivors of the wreck reported seeing the Titanic break in half, but no one believed them (probably because many of the survivors were women). It wasn't until the wreckage was found that the truth was known: the Titanic broke in half.

Though the lifeboats did their best to stay in a group, a few boats ended up floating away. The bodies were recovered some time later. Many retrieval efforts were dispatched over a handful of weeks after the tragedy. They were never able to recover all the bodies, and I think they only managed to recover about 100 out of 1500 bodies, give or take. They took the bodies back to Halifax in Canada where the Titanic was supposed to dock first. There's a memorial there and the unclaimed bodies have been buried there as well.

If there were bodies trapped inside the Titanic as it was sinking, there weren't any bodies once it hit the bottom of the ocean. And there definitely weren't any bodies when the wreckage was found in the 80's. The pressure would have destroyed them, bacteria and deep sea creatures would have eaten whatever was left. They would have decomposed.

As they were attempting to recover the bodies, a search and rescue team did find the iceberg the Titanic hit. They knew it was the true iceberg because it still had paint from the hull on it.

I went to the Titanic museum in Orlando once a long time ago and it was wonderful in a tragic way. My favorite part of the tour was a small section where the deck was recreated, including a bench you could sit at and a wall covered in black cloth and lights to look like stars. It was cool, but not cold, and was set to replicate the night of the disaster. Sitting on the bench, you could really feel what it was like to be on the Titanic the night it sank. The next room you entered was a room with a piece of the hull, and then after that another room filled with the names of everyone on the ship. If the name was lit, the person lived, but if it wasn't, the person died. You got a card with information about a real passenger at the beginning of the tour and in that final room you learned if your passenger survived or not. I still have my card somewhere, but I'm not sure where. I can't remember the name of the passenger on my card (this was 7 or 8 yrs ago by now) but he was a third class passenger, one of the few who survived, and unfortunately his wife and all his children perished. The panels with the names were set up by class, and the most heartbreaking part was seeing the panels with the third class passengers and how many names weren't lit.

And those are my Titanic facts. IDK what it is about this ship, about this wreck, that captures our imaginations in such an intense way. I used to check this book out of the school library about the Titanic and read it over and over again. I was obsessed. Still am, apparently.

Note: This was all from my memory so if my facts aren’t quite right, I apologize. It’s been *years* since I’ve gone down a proper Titanic rabbit hole.

[blingblong55]

Sweetness- Simon "Ghost" Riley

Picture credits: @ave661

Based on a request: Hii, I hope this request finds you in good health :)) Could you do a simon riley x reader where the reader is a super soldier who can fly and shoot lasers out of her eyes. They're the new recruit of the team and simon is intrigued by them. They work together and the reader effortlessly destroys the enemies. Then he starts to develop feelings and they end up together :)) Thankss!! Take care <3 ---- F!Reader, superhuman!reader, superhuman!au, friends to lovers?, confessions, fluff?, super soldier!reader ----

In the heart of the bustling city, amidst the chaos and the constant threat of danger, a recruit was about to make her mark on the battlefield. She was no ordinary soldier; she was a super soldier, gifted with extraordinary abilities that set her apart from the rest. With the power to fly and shoot lasers from her eyes, she was a force to be reckoned with.

After working with Laswell in some undercover mission, she finally decides to put you in the military. This was after an attack that led to some dead soldiers, something you could have prevented, had you been there. 

Being the so-called rookie of the team was not fun, every wrong move anyone made was somehow your fault and after three long months of proving yourself to be worthy of respect, Price paired you with the infamous Lieutenant. His usual partner, Soap, was out of the field sometime after a mission flawed. Ghost was more than curious to work alongside you for some time and when the opportunity arose, he was glad he would be able to see your powers on the field.

Simon, being the soldier he is, had seen many skilled soldiers come and go, but there was something different about you. There was a gracefulness to your movements, a confidence that spoke volumes of your capabilities. As you effortlessly took down targets during training exercises, Simon couldn't help but feel intrigued by you.

He approached you after a training session, his footsteps silent as he moved closer. "Impressive work out there," he said, his voice low and steady. You turned to face him, your gaze meeting his with unwavering confidence. "Thank you," you replied, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "I'm still getting used to all of this." Simon nodded, studying you closely. "You seem to have a natural talent for it," he remarked, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. A blush crept onto your cheeks, and you looked away, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze. "I've had some practice," you admitted, your voice soft.

By the time you two had reached the small and torn-down town your mission would take place in, he finally decided to ask a good question. "So, your powers, are they as good as everyone says they are, or are you bullshitting us?" He looks your way, his mask only giving away that cold stare of his. "They are as accurate as can be, Lt-"

"Ghost, call me Ghost," he cuts you off. You nod and try to understand that maybe he didn't like the rank title as much as others would. 

As you two prepare for the long night ahead, he sits down and thinks the plan over and over. Without trying, his gaze falls on you. he observes you with interest. Simon, being the soldier he is, had seen many skilled soldiers come and go, but there was something different about you. There was a gracefulness to your movements, a confidence that spoke volumes of your capabilities. As you effortlessly took down targets during training exercises, Simon couldn't help but feel intrigued by her.

By the time the sun had left the blue skies, Ghost and you prepared to attack the small base. It was a coordinated attack, one he and you had studied and planned for weeks before tonight. He wanted to test your abilities, but he also had to ensure your safety. "Got your six," he mutters before nodding at you as you kick through the door. 

The enemy soldiers shooting at you both, your eyes shooting lasers at them. Most of them lost an arm, leg or both, some got cut in half. Ghost tried to shoot at any moving enemy but shortly, the fire ceased as he stood in shock, watching the so-called piece of art you had made with their bodies. He chuckles, fuck, now he owes Gaz money. 

"how the fuck- how did you even react that fast?" he says, still in shock. You smile, "practice makes perfect, sir," you respond gently, trying not to sound threatening or say something wrong that could freak him out, something you have learned from past encounters. An amused nod and a chuckle later, he extends his hand and shakes yours. "Glad to have you on our side, Y/N," his deep voice no changed for a much softer one. "Glad to be a part of it, Ghost," you smile. 

It had been hours since the mission, and the ride back home was strange, he looked at your eyes, not wanting to read you but to study how from them those lasers just magically appeared and disappeared. How the fuck can they cut a human's arm off? You seem so sweet and gentle but holy fuck you are something mythical he only read about in comics. 

What became such a funny thing to him was who you had become to him. The girl would reach for the high-shelf items but just simply float off the ground like it was nothing and hand them back to him. He would often joke around and purposefully place items on the highest shelf in his office just to see you float off the ground and grab them for him. 

It was like having his very own pretty angel when you'd do this. 

 You were never supposed to be someone to him, not romantically at least. 

Training sessions became stolen glances in hallways, inside jokes, late-night smokes, lingering glances, shared meals in his office, smiles and laughs on lonely nights, phone calls when either of you were away, subtle touches when passing by each other, heart-melting comments and forehead kisses before a mission. 

"Simon?"

"Yes, darling?"

"What's on your mind?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No."

"It's you, darling," he says as his arms hold you to him. His heartbeat is faster as he kisses your forehead. "I don't want to just be the guy you talk to, I want to be the guy who gives you more than forehead kisses or lets you use his jumpers," he confesses and it makes your breath hitch. Say the right words, he thinks. 

"Simon–"

"You should stay with me. Let me care for you," he says, his hand travelling to your back. "Let me spoil you the way you deserve. Let me protect you, move in with me so I don't have to spend more nights feeling like I need those sweet eyes looking into mine before sleeping."

"Do you want that?" you trace his tattoos and he nods. "I want to have you in my life," his hand travels to the back of your neck, making sure you see the seriousness in his eyes. "I want all my clothes covered in your scent. I want to find your hair in my bed or your makeup on my neck." he leans forward, his eyes pleading for a response. 

Your lips so hesitantly touch his but once you kiss him, he pulls you in, needing those lips of yours glued to his as he finds any cure in them. 

Tags:

@liyanahelena @mangowafflesss @livinginmyreality @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99 @idklols @night-mare-owl-79 @saoirse06 @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @coralwitchdreamland @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @born4biriyani @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @tuihiatus @sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95

[j-nope-not-today]

Hi, I am the one who ask for a, TMNT boys react to their s/o being cat called, on your other tumblr page. I understand. Please take your time. I hope you have a lovely day.💖

TMNT reaction to s/o being cat called

A/n: Hello! I'm in fact not dead! Sorry for the long wait and I hope you enjoy. Thanks for requesting!

Leonardo

Now you think he would be the most rational out of his brothers

But you would be wrong. I firmly believe he would be off the rails about the whole situation

He has to keep his cool all the time, but seeing you being threatened, cat called, or hurt in any sort of way? It's over.

All rationality and reasoning flies out of the window.

If you get cat called. He's going to make sure your safe and then he's going to beat said cat caller up.

He will not hesitate. He'll look at the cat caller. Look at you. Back at the cat caller and then bam! he's on the move.

The only way to stop him from rearranging your cat caller's face is by keeping a hold on him. If your hand is placed on him or your holding his arm. He'll stay put and keep on his merry way

But otherwise it's so over for that cat caller.

And afterwards Leo will take you for ice cream or to some sort of food place that you love

He'll be extra cute and loving towards you as if he didn't just beat tf out of someone.

If you question it or bring it up he'll just sigh and say

"the things you do for the people you love"

Just know he does it bc he loves you. Your safety it means everything to him and he wouldn't let anyone harm you, physically or mentally.

Raphael

I firmly believe Raphael will turn to said cat caller and ask them if they have a death wish

Man is straight to the point

Immediately he has a thousand different problems

He's probably not gonna beat them up bc Lord knows he would have zero restraint

But he'll give a speech most likely layered with threats

"you see her/him? Their valuable. Their priceless. An absolute treasure to me and you..you have the entire day to be an idiot and you choose now to be one?"

He's Mr.i'm not insulting you, I'm describing you.

He'll insult him until you laugh. His goal is solely to make you laugh so you can feel better and then you'll go on with your day.

If you don't laugh he'll ask you if you want him to beat him up bc once he gets the green light from you

It's game over for that cat caller.

When all is said and done he's going to be snuggled close to you like he a giant teddy bear.

Donatello

He's going to try to be as calm as possible

And he's going to think he's handling the situation calmly

But he's going to have either a glare that could kill you or a resting bitch face during the whole altercation

He'll tell your cat caller to get lost and he'll make sure you get to where your going safely

And the moment Donnie is alone he's going to hack everything that cat caller owns

I'm talking bank information, email, all their personal accounts on everything

He's going to inconvenience tf out of your cat caller simply bc he inconvenienced you and made you uncomfortable and he's not gonna let that slide.

Ofc after all is said and done he will proudly show you what he did

In the hopes it will make you feel better.

Be prepared he's going to be extra affectionate to ensure you feel better, but mainly it's to make him feel better. He doesn't like seeing you in any sort of distress.

It bothers him so please give him hugs

Michelangelo

I firmly believe Mikey will turn into a feral street cat

Your not gonna know what his response is going to be

He might just beat the cat caller up

Maybe he'll threaten him

But guarantee that the cat caller will be scarred for life

He will ensure that the call caller learns their lesson

But his number one priority will be you

If he knows he can't do anything bc your scared or freaked out or it's unsafe to Mikey than he won't do anything

But he will remember the cat caller's face and he will come back to finish the job

But he won't tell you that

He'll make sure you get home and he'll reassure you and kiss your face and joke around

He'll cheer you up and make you feel as right as rain

And if you ever find out he did in fact go back to finish the job. he will deny it until the day he dies. He will never admit to it.

[readychilledwine]

Flight Patterns Part 2

Summary - After years of hushed whispers and leads, Azriel has finally found Cassian's lost sister, Aerilyn. What he found with her was unexpected, though.

Warnings - Slight power abuse, mentions of trauma and scars. Scene jumping to ensure I got two of the dragons introduced.

A/N- We are getting a fairly calm Aerilyn in this part since they are doing everything they can to make her feel comfortable and safe, but Caged animals tend to be the most dangerous. This is also going to give us a peek at her and Rhysand and the incoming slow burn between them. The next few parts will flow smoother, but still have some jumps to ensure I get the dragons introduced quickly. Only next time might be Rhys seeing one up close. 🫠

Edited to add - my brain is not getting me the euphoria I like to have when I post, please do not be surprised if I edit this before posting part 3.. maybe I looked at it too long, maybe I'm being critical of myself, but we be here 🙃

Word Count - 4970

Part 1 Part 3

Aerilyn did not know what to think of the small being in front of her. Her first instinct was to laugh, but she held it in picking up on her less than amused body language as the male she knew from somewhere spoke to her. They'd been communicating back and forth in her first tongue for over an hour, but it was clearly something the other female struggled with. A dead language she had called it. 

Now she was testing Aerilyn's ability to speak common. "Rhys said you knew letters but cannot speak to me in this language," her voice drawled out. 

Inaccurate, Aerilyn thought to herself. But we can play this game for a little while. She cocked a brow, blinking in faked confusion. 

The female rolled her eyes. "I told them you'd be a lost cause. Feral beasts are best left to other beasts." She blinked again, knitting her brows together. She stored the insult in her mind for later, ignoring the heat pooling in her blood to bite back. 

She did know this. She had tricked the male in her head well if he thought she had less education than a child. "I assume you don't know your name then?"

"Ari," she whispered. "Name Ari."

The female nodded. "So you can understand me but not speak the language I'm speaking?" She blinked blindly again, grinning internally when silver eyes rolled in annoyance. "I will inform the High Lord." The small fae left with her arms crossed and Aerilyn sighed. She walked out the balcony, staring at the city far below her and admiring the pretty sparkling lights. 

She'd only ever seen a village from dragon back as they moved from place to place in search of food and safety. 

Her childhood with them and their riders had been happy. Filled with laughter and adventure. Until they made the mistake of traveling across the continent. 

Rumors had reached their ears of a city that would welcome riders and their drakes. Aerilyn and her mount had been left behind to guard the mountain they currently held shelter in, and one by one 6 other winged beasts returned to her. Riderless and in mourning. She was still young at that point, barely into her adulthood, and was now tasked with learning to control 6 other mounts on top of her own. 

She whistled softly 4 times, she knew they were near. And the wind shifted rotation before lightning stuck high in the clouds, revealing a large body and ever faithful wings gliding.

-

"I'd just throw her back in the woods," Mor stated. "She had 4 drakes, and we have no clue what they can do. Do you really think having her here is safe?"

Cassian growled, his fist closing tightly under the table. "She's my sister."

Azriel avoided his gaze, jaw slightly clenched as he stated the one fact they all knew. "She's dangerous and a liability. We can't even speak to her to tell her we mean her and them no harm."

Amren rolled her eyes. "I think she's lying about that. I think she can speak common. I think she chooses not to. Just as all riders have throughout the history of time."

Amren shifted as all eyes landed on her. "She knew I was asking her name. Her accent is thick and heavy, but she pronounced everything clearly instead of struggling through it like a truly uneducated and mute fae would."

Cassian shook his head at Amren in disbelief. "She lived in the woods, Am. There's no way-"

"She speaks a completely dead language last used by dragon riders," Amren cut him off, annoyance slipping into her tone as she stared at the general as if he had gone stupid overnight. "She is somehow alive after her wings were cut so deeply that parts of her skin were still attached. Or did you forget the condition you received them at your feet in?" Amren turned her head to the window as a flash of lightning appeared from nowhere. "She may have been alone when you found her, but she wasn't always alone."

Rhysand jumped as a loud crash of thunder shook the mountain. "It wasn't supposed to rain today," Azriel said slowly as he moved towards the window. "We need to warn people to get inside. Look at how dark the clouds are." 

Amren's eyes went to the clouds, a small smirk on her face. "We're about to see one of the beasts in her arsenal. Might want to go calm your little mate, Rhysand"

Rhys shook his head. "Velaris is shielded from magic. My people and court are safe."

Mor spoke softly, a reminder to everyone in the room. "Not all drakes attack with magic, Rhys. Some can use the elements. Summoning the storm was the only magic it used, and the shield doesn't stop weather. Now, it gets to control the severity of it." 

As if confirming Morrigan's warning, lightning struck Ramiel and thunder shook the ground again as rumble fell from the mountain top. The jaws of the three Illyrian males all twitched. 

The sky became a show of lights as heavy rain began to pound down on the court, gathering faster than the ground and Sindra would be able to handle it. "It's going to flood the court," Mor realized slowly. "We are trapped in the valley of a mountain, Rhys. It's going to flood the court until it gets her back."

Rhys went up the stairs, rage fueling every step as Cassian kept pace with him.

Aerilyn jumped from where she stood near the balcony, watching as her true mount showed the Night Court not even a fraction of what he could do and a glimpse of the destruction he could bring. She knew he could level this little city, but had asked him not to through their bond. 

Rhysand gripped her arm, turning her so quickly her head spun and pointed to the sky with his brows raised as if he expected her to answer. She cocked her head to him, blinking twice before pulling her arm from his grasp and moving towards Cassian faking fear. "What is your beast doing?" Rhysand growled at her, his eyes blazing with fury she had never seen or felt before. She didn't answer and he exploded.

"What the fuck is happening to my court?!" The demand in his voice had Aerilyn almost trembling. "What in the fuck is that thing doing?!"

She stared at him doe eyed, moving closer into the protection Cassian offered and keeping up her act. "Rhys, stop, she clearly doesn't understand you."

The High Lord looked enraged. Yanking the bond so hard Aerilyn released a small scream and fell to her knees. Cassian knelt to her immediately, craddling her head and holding her close to him. He had never felt powerless because of Rhysand, but he did now. "Call. It. Off." He growled at her. "Call your damned beast off before I kill it."

She held her chest, eyes wide as she looked between Rhys and Cassian. The High Lord's eyes softened temporarily, realizing his mate had no clue what that string was. Anger came back to him as another round of lightning stuck closer to the House of Wind. 

Aerilyn knew that was a warning. A loud warning that if he hurt her again, if he shouted at her again, if he even detected fear down their sacred connect, the gates to hell would be opened, and death would follow. 

Rhys went to the balcony, opening it and bracing himself as winds whipped and rain pelted him. He began to watch the sky, watching for any sign of the beast hiding in those dark clouds. A flash of light allowed him to have eyes on it, and he turned to his mate, finger pointed to where he now knew the dragon was hovering. He offered one last time, "Call of the drake, or I will blood Mist him."

Aerilyn looked between him and Cassian. Her brother's jaw was tight. "Rhysand, she doesn't understand. It is protecting her."

"And I'm protecting my fae and home," Rhysand growled to his general. "A home you also swore to protect, Cassian. Remember your place."

Cassian stood, his eyes narrowing. "Isn't my place at your side, brother?"

Rhys put his hand down, realizing the error in his sentence. "Cassian-"

"Don't bother." The illyrian male knelt back down to his sister.

"Please," she whispered. "Don't hurt him." Cassian's face fell slightly. "Gentle. Kind." Aerilyn was still playing her cards. Knowing she could not drop the faked persona until she knew one of them was going to protect her, until she knew one of them would return her. "Scared."

Cassian placed a large hand on her cheek. "You or the dragon?"

Her brows knit. "Both," Rhysand said slowly. "They're both afraid." The High Lord caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, realizing now how much he behaved like his father in this incident. 

The rain lightened up at Aerilyn's command. Her mound came closer to the balcony, but still far enough away to prevent any physical attacks. Aerilyn moved to the balcony, and Rhys and Cassian both watched as her face fell into deep sadness. "Enlil," her hand went out and the dragon approached, getting close enough to her palm to allow her to touch his muzzle.

The males both immediately noted two things:

The first was that this dragon was truly a work of art. A large scaled body that appeared grey, but those scales had began to reflect the lights and surroundings, hiding him within plain sight to anyone looking. He had wings that Rhys could only describe as being similar to painted glass as gentle light passed through them. Even his ice blue eyes were beautiful, and shockingly to them both, filled with love and worship towards the female hugging him.

The second thing they noted was where Aerilyn and Enlil were touching was glowing with a faint blue light. It was as if the contact between them was a sign of magic. And to Rhysand's horror, he realized it was. He knew enough about dragon's and their riders to know this was a bond formed between their souls. His mate was this dragon's true mount. 

And that meant had he misted this dragon, he would have killed her too. 

The dragon could live without the rider, the rider could not live without the dragon. That bond was too fragile, too sacred, too powerful.

Rhys approached slowly, holding a hand back to Cassian. He knew drakes could understand the languages of the fae, and made an offer. "There is a cave, in the mountain," he pointed to it. "It used to be a dragon pit back when the Night Court had riders in their armies. It can comfortably fit 14 dragons." 

The drake seemed to understand his offer, those crystalline eyes flicking back to his rider. "You can bring your hoards of treasures and other friends there, you will be safe there as she is here."

Rhysand dropped the scent ward he had on their mating bond, allowing the drake to sniff it out. He flew back slightly, sparing one last look towards Aerilyn and turned the rain to no more than a light Mist before flying away. 

Rhys motioned for his mate to enter the room again and shut the balcony doors. He hid the hurt in his heart as Aerilyn tucked herself into Cassian's side again, using him as her shield. 

A shield from him.

Rhysand's shoulders fell in defeat. "I need to know what I welcomed into my court."

Aerilyn just simply tucked further into Cassian's side, her soaked hair dripping onto the hardwood floor below her as she shivered. 

Rhys nodded, closing his eyes, and walked out of the door. Amren, Azriel, and Mor all waited in the hall. "Amren, I need you to find books of the different types of drakes, preferably with pictures." The ancient being nodded and immediately left to go to work. "Azriel, how many were actually in the cave?" The shadowsinger didn't answer, his jaw set in a clenched hold. "I realize I fucked up, Azriel. I don't need you to tell me how badly. I already know."

"She has 7 total dragons in her possession. They all look different." He reported back calmly what his shadows had discovered. Azriel went to the door, knocking before entering. He greeted Cassian and Ari softly before shutting the door behind him.

Mor looked at Rhys. "You have to fix that." 

The male nodded. "I will. After he calms her down and gets her to sleep."

-

Cassian held Aerilyn tight after he made her change into different warm clothing. She couldn't help but cuddle closer into him. 

It was familiar, and she knew that. She knew his scent, his smile. She knew what he was to her, and she to him. 

He placed a long kiss on her temple, a prayer going to any God that listened one more time as he wrapped a large wing around her. No words passed between the siblings, and no words needed to. 

Her eyelids began to feel heavy quickly as his calloused hands began a long forgotten motion, running through her hair and scratching her scalp in all the right places. 

"You're safe, sis," Cassian mumbled, falling into a light sleep of his own. "No one will ever hurt you again."

-

The inner circle sat at the dinner table, waiting for at least Cassian to appear. 

Azriel was the last to see the siblings. He had said she was fine, just shaken up. Cassian he had not mentioned. 

They heard a set of foot steps approach the room and Cassian entered silently. He took the plate from the place that had been set near Rhys to force proximity and moved it further down the table. He began taking food without permission from the High Lord and ate in silence. 

Azriel began to eat as well, not wishing to push a clearly angry male to speak. Mor looked down then to Rhys, her eyes pleading with him to fix the situation. 

"Cassian," Rhysand started slowly. The general grunted in response. "Is she okay?"

Cassian set his fork down. "Considering you threatened the only thing she's known as family for the past 300 years? Sure, Rhys, she's fine. She trusts us so much already." Cassian went back to eating, effectively ending any conversation before it could begin. 

Rhys just looked down, pushing his own food around on his plate. He could feel she was heavily asleep, that her dreams were pleasant. "It was attacking my court, our home."

Cassian looked up at him slowly. "Because we kidnapped her from them and theirs. Because she doesn't feel safe and somehow that thing knows through the bond they share."

Amren's interest peaked, "She's bonded to one?" Rhys and Cassian both nodded. Amren just settled into her chair, silver eyes now ablaze with excitement. The ancient being sipped the liquid in her glass, a small smirk forming. "Woo her, Rhysand. That dragon will only leave if she dies, and if they were a pack, you could now have 7 damn near indestructible beasts at your whim."

Cassian pushed his plate away, standing and leaving the table.

The undeniable smell of anger was radiating off of his skin and tainting the air. Rhys felt his shoulders fall in defeat. 

Cassian never left the table without finishing his meals.

He did tonight.

-

Aerilyn woke up to the sun shining in her room and the smell of something bitter. She wrinkled her nose as she sat up and caught sight of the short haired male who originally found her.

He was sitting in her room, looking out the balcony, a cup with steam rising from it in hand. He had a thick book resting on his lap and parchment on a table next to him.

Azriel raised his hand to her, motioning for her to come closer with a single finger. 

She stood next to him, following where that finger now pointed. In a deep gentle voice he asked her, "Name?"

A solid black dragon with scales like spilled oil was sitting at the entrance of the cave put Rhys has allowed them access to. They were on shifts, watching her room perfectly from that ledge, and protecting each other. "Achlys." 

Azriel nodded and held the book. "Type?"

Aerilyn went through the pages, doing her best to focus on pictures instead of reading. She finally reached the page regarding drakes of poison and pointed. Azriel pales slightly before adding the gentle giant to his started list. Under Enlil was pages to books and his power type. Now, under Achlys name was pages referring her. 

He had 5 more spots set, but did not push her. He held the mug filled with the bitter black liquid up to her. "Try it."

She took the mug, fingers grazing his scarred hands and sniffed it. She took a tiny sip before looking at Azriel with a look of absolute devastation and betrayal. 

Azriel couldn't help but to let out a loud laugh as he saw her eyes going wide, her bottom lip pouting out, and her nose scrunching. He took the mug from her and pulled out a separate parchment piece. 

It has her name on the top along with little observations he's made regarding her. Under dislikes he added "Black Coffee," with an amused smile. 

"Mean," she glared at him as he continued to laugh. Azriel faked insult and put his hand to his chest. Aerilyn couldn't help the sympathy flowing through her as she took on of his hands in hers. "Fire?" He just nodded, allowing her to study them. 

Aerilyn wanted to drop the act. She wanted to ask who did this to him, where they were now, but she couldn't.  She settled with kissing his palm. 

Azriel moved to her closet when she was done. Picking a soft two piece outfit for her. He spoke slowly to her, trying to ensure she understood. "Change and then food."

Her stomach made a noise of agreement and he laughed again, leaving the room to allow her to change from the t-shirt Cassian had been wearing yesterday. The clothing left little to the imagination. It was a deep plum color, but the fabric was sheer. The top dipped low in the front and ended before her navel, the long sleeves were sheer. The matching pants were also fairly sheer after the modesty paneling that would prevent her from being exposed. 

Azriel entered the room as if knowing she was changed and immediately took her hand, pulling her into the hallway.

Aerilyn's mouth began to water as they went down the stairs, and her stomach made an when louder noise that had the male pausing, sending her a small look of sympathy, before continuing.

The house was stunning. Lavish furniture, golden balcony and lanterns. It was the most expensive place she had ever been, granted most of her days were spent in a cave surrounded by beasts and their individual hoards. 

Azriel pulled her into a dinning room where the inner circle all sat waiting for him. "Brought a friend to breakfast," he said simply as they all stared in shock. He pulled a chair out for her, sitting her down across from Cassian before moving to sit next to her. 

He began to pile food onto a plate, occasionally putting something under her nose to smell and only adding it if she nodded. Eggs, hashbrowns, bacon, and countless fruits now sat on her plate. 

He gave her the option of water and some dark purple color liquid that smelled like berries. 

Cassian offered her a small smile. "No coffee?"

Azriel didn't freely give them the smiles he had been handing her. "Tried that. She looked at me like I just stolen everything warm and wonderful in her world."

A beautiful blonde laughed lightly. "Well you either drink coffee one or two ways, Azriel. Black or loaded with caramel and sugar. Balance is needed, Az!"

The room fell into hushed silence as the male who stood on the other end of the string Aerilyn had been studying entered. 

He stared at her for a brief moment, his lips almost giving into a twitch and his eyes softening. He continued his walk to the head of the table and sat. "Good morning." A chorus of "Mornings" welcomed him as he began to take food. He looked directly at Aerilyn, "Man erin"

"Man Erin," she whispered back. 

"Eat." Rhysand said to everyone. "We have a long day ahead of us."

Rhys and Aerilyn kept glancing at each other as they ate. One looking away when the other would notice them. She felt herself slightly flushing under his gaze, feelings she'd never had beginning to mix with the fear she felt towards him.

He was beautiful. Incredibly beautiful. Dark hair, a chiseled face, tanned skin. His eyes felt like starlight. 

She wanted to map those eyes, log them like the ancient kings, watching them for hours until they were all they knew.

Rhys also felt emotions mixing with what he knew what physical attraction. The twins had done well cleaning her and allowing her features to be seen. Long dark hair fell into waves down to the curve of her ass that Rhysand wanted to sink his teeth into. Her high cheekbones and delicate jawline framed lush blush lips and eyes like melted chocolate. 

She would be easy to physically fall in love with, and if he could woo her, if he could drop his pride long enough to open vulnerability between the two of them, maybe it would be easy for him to emotionally fall for her as well.

-

Cassian and Azriel led Aerilyn out of the House of Wind to an open area filled with sparing dummies. Cassian was radiating, he had been since the two shadow wraiths changed her into the training leathers she saw Illyrian warriors wearing when she'd spy on the camps. He had been since he inspected her perfected braided hair that was tucked and twisted to keep it out of her face and prevent it from being a target. 

He had been since he saw his sister, exactly as she should have been.

Azriel moved away from them, setting something else up and then sat and waited for Rhysand. She knew he was joining them. Cassian pulled her to a table filled with battle maps and empty parchment as if it was his favorite personal space and he began to write.

Can you read? His handwriting was sharp almost as if he moved his hands like he was dicing an enemy with a knife instead of handling a pen.

"Yes," Aerilyn said.

Cassian rose a brow. You know what yes and no means?

"Yes."

He nodded a small smirk forming. Do you know how to fight?

Aerilyn looked at him, her own dark brows raising as Rhys and Azriel made their way over. She took the pen from Cassian, shocking the three of them. I fly dragons. I had to learn to fight.

Rhys sucked in a breath. "You can read and write." She nodded at him. "You just can't speak our language." 

She wrote again, lying through her teeth still for reasons she was forgetting as today's kindness had become an almost comfort, all of them studying her like hawks that found prey. Never made it that far. Letters in your language have too many sounds. And there's weird bull shit rules. Like "to, two, and too." Who uses 3 words that's letters should all sound the same creating the same word 3 times but for some reason they all evidently mean something else? 

Azriel closed his eyes, hiding a laugh with a cough and cleared his throat. "Yup. Definitely Cassian's sister. Makes what you two are doing next possibly easier, though." 

Rhysand picked at his leathers, trying to remain indifferent despite the joy flooding both him and Aerilyn. He went into her mind again, finding one pathway that wasn't a mess of trauma and mistrust. He began following it to see if he could figure out what all Aerilyn knew. Her thoughts were in several languages with an occasional one in common tongue. Ancient Ruskian, the Old tongue, the language of the long lost elves, and several others.

A slow realization hit him and he looked at his brothers immediately expressing it to them in their minds. "You were not alone in those woods, were you?"

Aerilyn kept her eyes locked on the parchment, shaking her head. Can we just get the fighting over with? I don't want to talk about that.

Cassian almost began to bounce, beaming with excitement and joy. "After we warm and run, sunshine," he ruffled her hair as her face dropped completely.

No one said running would be involved. Aerilyn immediately turned towards the door, only to be stopped by Cassian quickly ripping her back and turning her to throw her over his shoulder. "No way, little one. You are not getting out of this, Aerilyn."

Aerilyn looked at Rhys, eyes pleading. "Please?" Her voice reminded him of red aged wine. Sultry, sweet, capable of convincing him to spend all of his money.

He wanted to give into her, to give into those big chocolate brown eyes begging him to stop this from happening, but they needed a baseline or her knowledge in everything to keep her safe, even if that safety one day was no longer with him. 

He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, darling. It is for your best interest."

Aerilyn collapsed 30 minutes later onto the training mat. They were trying to kill her. Rhysand sat next to her, lightly laughing as he handed her water. 

Aerilyn hated cardio. She had always hated cardio. She did not even understand why cardio was a thing. She took the water, taking a drink before rolling to her stomach and laying in defeat. 

Rhys poked her side, "I think she is done, Cassian." He could feel it through the bond, read it in her body language. He admired the pieces of her hair that had fallen from the braids. He watched her chest rising and falling. She had taken off the longer sleeved training shirt a while ago, exposing her toned arms and back in the tanktop. Despite the tanned skin, a peek of white was showing. A peek of a scar was showing. 

She stiffened as he moved the shirt more and he blanched. 

No care had been taken when her wings were removed. Deep thick scarred skin sat where her wing should have been. Cassian froze when he saw them as well, the night that her small wings where thrown to his feet immediately coming to the forefront of his mind. 

Aerilyn moved away, standing with her back to the three of them, her posture began caving in on itself as her mind screamed insecurities at her. 

She knew of beauty standards. She knew scars were not considered beautiful, and despite not being raised in normal society, she wanted to be beautiful. She wanted to be seen as beautiful. 

She backed away as tears began to fall. "It's okay," Rhys moved to her, speaking softly. "It's okay, Ari."

She shook her head before breaking into a run into the house. Shadows followed her as Cassian stopped Rhys from following. "Give her a second," the general kept repeating.

But how was he supposed to give her a second? How was Rhys supposed to let his mate lock herself in her room and be alone? 

How was he supposed to leave her alone when she didn't believe she was beautiful?

A loud roar broke them all from their trance and their heads snapped to the opening near the mountain. Azriel began to back away, panic and fear setting into him as a large red and gold bodied drake flew towards Aerilyn's balcony. 

They didn't need her to tell them what kind of beast that was nor the destruction it could bring. 

They all already knew, and this confirmed a deep set fear they had. 

Aerilyn had access to a fire Drake. 

Rhysand put himself between Azriel and where the dragon flew. 

"No one speaks a word of this. Knowledge that there is a fire Drake does not leave our boarders. I do not want to deal with Beron anytime soon. It's bad enough we already have to hide the Storm Drake from Tamlin."

Cassian released a shaking breath. "What happens if this all comes out, Rhysand?"

The High Lord shook his head, his mind reeling. "You will lose your sister, I will lose my mate, and those poor beasts that simply want to live and protect her will be hunted or used until their deaths. We keep it quiet to keep them safe."

The three brothers nodded as the flame dragon began to fly back to the cave, something sparkling in its claws.

Azriel, despite his fear, let out a small laugh. "It took a lantern." 

The statement broke the tension that had been building between the three males since her arrival. Cassian's loud booming laughter lead to Rhysand's own deep chuckles, and then Azriel's own rang out joining them. 

Aerilyn appeared seconds later, a guilty look on her teary face. Her hands clasped in front of her, and she rocked back and forth. Her small motions made their laughter increase and soon her own bell-like giggles started. 

She realized slowly, watching the three of them laugh and feeling Rhysand's unadulterated love for the two other males, and the sheer happiness he felt, that she could get used to this. She walked to Azriel, the book on drakes and his sheet in hand to the table and wrote a few simple words. "Hestia. Fire Drake. Likes gems and gold." 

Translation - Man Erin - "Good morning"

Tag list: @kemillyfreitas @jesssicapaniagua @elijahssuit @biancabldss @hellwantfuckme @justdreamstars @ladybirdbeetle7 @amygdtjhddzvb

**Tumblr was being odd and would not allow me to actually tag a few people. I'm looking into it! If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please let me know 💜

[skitterjitter]

I've been thinking a lot about Dazai and the fact that he put a bomb in Chuuya's car when he left the the Port Mafia. I kept wondering why, because this is after Oda told him to be a good person, and putting a bomb in someone's car kinda makes it seem like you want that person dead

but this is Dazai, and what you see on the surface is only half the story. so again -- why? well, I think it's for two reasons: the first is to protect Chuuya. because they're Soukoku, they're known to be a team that works together terrifyingly well, a team that knows and understand each other even despite their vocal distaste for each other, and that means that if Dazai leaves, it'll put suspicion on Chuuya. it's a public statement of cutting ties that ensures no one is going to look at Chuuya, either for answers or otherwise negatively

that's only half the reason, though. the other half is this: don't try and find me. because Chuuya was forced into the Port Mafia, and I don't doubt that if he saw the opportunity to leave at the time, he wouldn't take it. if it included Dazai, well, he won't say it, but there would be relief because that's the person that knows him best, that he trusts with his life and can bring him back to himself when he looses himself to corruption

and the thing is, Chuuya understands why Dazai cut ties with him, but oh, does it hurt. Dazai has always been a sore spot, but this abandonment stays an open wound that just won't heal

as for Dazai's feelings, well -- they're complicated, as things often are. he thinks that leaving Chuuya behind was the best way to keep him safe -- Mori might have let him go, but loosing them both would have been a blow Mori would be unable to ignore -- but I wonder, for all the safety he provided, does he still regret actively harming one of the few people he's ever actually cared about?

[boundinparchment]

Con Clavi - I

You serve the church of the Tsaritsa, under Father Pantalone. Faith is a gift you received long ago but a certain heretical Harbinger is determined to push those boundaries. Il Dottore/Female Reader. Eventual Pantalone/Female Reader. Reader is a Canoness/Nun. Inspired in part by straw-bunbun's Priest Pantalone art. Story is rated Explicit. Minors DNI. Religious symbolism, corruption, many many liberties, eventual smut. Dead Dove applies. Available on AO3 here.

You suppressed a shiver as you listened to the reading by the man standing at the pulpit.  This hour was always the most difficult, you found, not because of the service itself, but because it was always coldest just before dawn.  Of all of the hours of the Divine Office, Prime was, by far, the most tedious.

Those who wanted to stop in for service before they began their day of work did so and were scattered amid the pews.  

Father Pantalone continued on with a prayer concerning work and called for a blessing from the Tsaritsa for those whose safety would be compromised that day.  He treated Agents and miners as equals in his service; before the eyes of Her Most Holy, all were human, Hers to protect.

Your knees ached from genuflection, the wooden kneeler only marginally better than the stone beneath it.  There was no cushioning here.  Some said it was because the Father was a stingy miser; others claimed it served as a reminder that the Tsaritsa’s love was the true comfort.

After this, you would eat in silence before delving into a contemplative study for the morning.  Terce would be observed, and then you would begin your day.  

As a canoness, it was expected of you to take on a social service as part of your dedication. You spent most of your mornings and afternoons educating noble daughters in-between observations of the canonical hours.  

You felt more like a governess than a nun at times.  If not for your strong pull to the faith, you would have considered such a position.

Fate had other plans.

And it was better than nursing.

You needed the Father’s opinion on a particular student prior to their appointment, now that the thought crossed your mind.

As service wrapped up, you responded with the appropriate, “Glory to the Tsaritsa,” before the procession exited the sanctuary, accompanied by song.  

The Father usually waited in the narthex to see people off.  With so few in attendance, save the monastic communities, perhaps you would be able to speak with Father Pantalone early...that would save you the headache later.

You waited until the congregation cleared out and then made your way over to the golden-eyed priest, smoothing out your white tunic, the color expected of your order.  

“Good morning, Father.  May I have a word?” you asked.

“Blessing be upon you, sister.  What can I assist with?”

He always wore a smile, as he did now, one that fooled the common person into making a decision to put even their very last mora into the donation tray during mass.  Such an act would, to some, seem disingenuous, corrupt even.  It ensured that the church remained open.

Towards you, the gesture was an attempt to keep you from taking too much of his time.  If he were approachable at this hour, you would not seek him out again.

“One of my students was recently betrothed, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Yes, I gave approval on the match to both families.  The announcement should be out this week, Archons willing.  Is there reason for concern?”

His smile grew tighter as the words passed his lips.  A strange man, Father Pantalone; full faith in the Tsaritsa but a strange disdain for the rest of the pantheon.  Your revered mother once said that with the way he balanced the church’s books, one would think he worshipped Deus Auri (or Yanwang Dijun as you once heard used).

Usually the request you were about to make would have gone to the revered mother you served but both families supported the church financially.  They paid for the recent reinforced ceiling above your head and the doors that kept out the cold.

Doors that were pushed open by a single figure with a white cloak, bird-like mask over his eyes, and a vicious grin.  His blue hair was plastered with snow, which he trudged in without so much as a toe-tap.

Only Harbingers such as the Father himself wore martial bands on their cloaks, you knew.  And this man certainly wasn’t Tartaglia.

“Shut the door, Dottore.  You didn’t have to bring the weather with you,” Father Pantalone snapped, his smile dropping instantly.  “What are you doing here at this hour?”

The man you now knew as Dottore waved an errant hand and the front doors to the church slammed shut with a final gust of wind.  

“I’m heading back to the Palace after an examination of the northern chasm.  Surely even you wouldn’t allow a fellow heretic such as myself to freeze, would you?  Doesn’t everyone have a place among your flock, Father Regrator?”

He spoke with an arrogance that made your blood boil even more.  As if his interruption wasn’t enough.

The priest regarded the other man with exasperation and disdain, his authority immediately undermined.  It was well-known that Father Pantalone held the Tsaritsa in the highest regard, which most used to refute the rumors that he was nothing more than a money-hungry clergyman.  It was an accusation you never thought to be rooted in anything other than envy and spite.

But Lord Harbinger Dottore spoke with a level of certainty that only came with his position.

Father Pantalone turned his attention back to you, intent on ignoring Dottore, who was now looking up at the ceiling with a sharp-toothed snarl.

“Excuse my colleague’s interruption, Sister.  What were you saying?”

“The young lady wrote a recent essay regarding the duty of the faithful.  It was an interesting analysis on the purpose of marriage and how one might consider matchmaking to be an antithesis to fate.  Her family’s recent choice is clearly a source of contention.”

“A topic that you’re more than equipped to handle, Sister.  After all, you ran away from your own betrothal, did you not?”

You swallowed the dark desire to ask the Tsaritsa to damn him.  

“Something I’m certain neither family wishes for her to emulate.  It would be a shame for them to blame the church if that came to fruition.” The quick, humble save fumbled from your lips as your eyes darted between the Father and the other Harbinger.

Golden eyes disappeared in amusement as the priest gave a soft chuckle.

“I suppose you are correct, dear Sister.  I’ll speak to the Revered Mother about the matter.”

His tone was dismissive; you would receive nothing else from him and determined to escape higher political matters, you bowed and began to head out of the narthex.  You caught whispers before Father Pantalone’s voice rang out again, stopping you in your tracks.

“Sister, you are on your way to breakfast, are you not?”

You turned and regarded both men again.  Dottore’s obscured gaze was no longer on the ceiling but on you and you felt your skin crawl.  Anyone in service to the Harbingers, to the Tsaritsa in any capacity, knew of Il Dottore, the Second Harbinger of Eleven, and his unusual stance on the world.  

Completely unfaithful in the Seven, including the Archon he served, and yet he held a station only surpassed by Capitano.  He was outranked by empathy, some said, for the Captain was often willing to lend his strength to all who asked, provided their goals aligned.

“I am, yes, Father.”

“Please take our guest to the kitchens and see he leaves through the back entrance when he’s finished.  I would rather he not be seen coming and going from the front doors and not immediately combusting.  I have a schedule to keep but even I am not unkind to blasphemers.”

In any other capacity, you would have found his remark humorous.  Father Pantalone’s posture was rigid, his jaw tight, and although he smiled, nothing in his brow signaled he enjoyed nor believed the words that came out of his mouth.  

And you had no choice but to agree, even if it meant interrupting the usually silent breakfast, for Father Pantalone had already walked away.  Naturally.  You asked something of him; it was only expected he would ask something of you in return.

To Dottore, you said: “If you would follow me, Lord Harbinger.”

You led the Second Harbinger through the side corridors and back outside, along the covered walkways around a courtyard.  The sun had yet to rise, torches imbued with Pyro throwing shadows as you made your way to the kitchens.  Dottore stopped for a moment, and when you no longer heard a second pair of footsteps, you paused and turned to find him regarding the snowy courtyard, the fountain frozen.

The firelight made his shadow look like a hulking bird.

“Is your student wrong, in your opinion, Sister?” he asked.

“I’m not quite sure I understand your question, my lord.”

You did but you weren’t going to outright answer him.  Not when he was keeping you from the warm hall and your morning coffee.

“To consider an arranged marriage sanctioned and approved by the Tsaritsa to be an attempt to control fate.  That by your student not having a say in the matter, having no control over her life, her own fate is undermined?”

It was too early for this, you thought bitterly.  And Pantalone said too much in front of the wrong person.  Not the first time your own history slipped through during conversations it shouldn’t have.

“That would depend on whether one believes it is the Archons or Celestia who has control over fate,” you said at last.  “Archons interpret the Heavenly Principles but there is a divide on whether the Archons act on their own or Celestia can override their will and therefore they are nothing more than figureheads.  Either way, free will is…difficult to define.  Some find comfort in it; others prefer the idea that another power is in charge of everything.”

“Diplomatic, Sister, but not what I asked,” Dottore chuckled.  “I suppose I should expect as much from someone in Pantalone’s realm but you strike me as someone who has defined free will for herself.”

You suppressed a shiver as you watched a black bird, some kind of corvid that lived around here, flew from a nearby tree and settled into the snow.  It buried its head before it wiggled, covering itself as it played with the newly-fallen powder.

“One should have a say in the long-term decisions of their lives,” you replied.  “Marriage is one of those decisions.  Many know how to wield a hammer and nail two pieces of wood together.  Some can build houses.  Others simply rely on that skill to repair what needs to be fixed and leave it at that.  Faith should be a compass, a guidebook; nothing more than a tool by which to live.”

The corvid made a sound as it wriggled and hopped about, soon joined by its companions.  Here, the birds were well-fed and clever for it, often seen as blessings of the Tsaritsa for their playful and comforting nature.

Elsewhere in the nation, they were absolute menaces.

Your answer seemed to satisfy him, for Dottore’s chest rose and fell once, warm breath snaking from his nostrils as if he were a long-lost dragon.

He fell in step with you again and when you reached the kitchen, he left your side and settled in front of the fire almost immediately.  Attentive eyes fell on you as you spoke to the cook about making sure the Harbinger left through the service entrance.  

In silence, you brought a cup of coffee and a plate of food to Il Dottore.  The only acknowledgement you received was a silent turn of the head along with a slight nod.  

At least he had the decency to respect the atmosphere.

Normally, the smell of coffee and warm bread was enough to shake you from the cold.  You would have spoken softly about what others were reflecting on that morning, sought guidance on which verses might provide insight.

Not today.

The coffee tasted burnt.  The bread felt stale.  The meat was cold.

And too many people were watching.  As if they knew.

You left your hot drink unfinished and tucked the errant bread into your pocket.  As you wished your fellow Canonesses a good morning and departed, you felt ice bloom over your shoulders, unfamiliar and attentive.

As you passed the courtyard, you paused only long enough to break up the bread and feed the eager birds.  They fluttered and squawked, picking up the pieces eagerly.

This morning’s reflections would be tedious but worthwhile.  Reminders of why you came to the arms of the Tsaritsa to begin with.

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

omg covey i’m thinking about “i'm a sister, i had a brother...his name was jason” and i’m imagining meeting jason when he comes to chb for the first time. like being the only one to know who he is(other than thalia obv but she’s not there and chiron who has to keep the secret duh)

imagine annabeth showing up with ur expecting to be percy(ur baby bro) and instead it’s a boy you thought was gone?? your best friends little brother??? and just being like “no way that is the stapler eater. i thought he was dead”

also having to know he is alive and here but thalia thinks he’s dead and gone??? my heart can’t take this i’m making myself sad at this point i have to go now

✮⋆˙ always someones little brother; the lost hero ft. daughter of poseidon! reader blurb

content: the beginning of the lost hero ft daughter of poseidon! reader. warning: none! author's note: once again, wrote this instantly. something about this plot line got me foaming at the mouth frfr. ALSO i wanted to fit “no way that is the stapler eater. i thought he was dead” into this so bad, but i couldn't find the right place for it lmao. just know it's here in spirit because that is the BEST fucking line i've ever heard, good lord- ALSO i had negative idea how to tag this one bc like...thalia's not in it so i can't say 'x her' and 'x jason' doesn't really make sense??? so i just went with 'lost hero' ft the reader bc that was the best i could come up with lmao

when that blond boy and his friends washed up to camp, you couldn't help but be the slightest bit disappointed it wasn't percy. it was natural; the big sister in you begging to ensure his safety. during moments like this, you thought of thalia and wondered if she considered herself an older sister after all these years of believing her brother to be dead. and you vaguely wondered if you would ever get to that point too, percy being gone for so long that you lose your title of big sister. a title you wore with so much pride that being stripped of it would surely kill you.

but then you broke through the crowd of campers, telling them to scram and leave the new arrivals alone. you pulled annabeth to her feet, pressing a kiss to her scalp, knowing she was sharing your feeling of disappointment. then you shooed her away too, telling her to get chiron before - finally - turning to the new trio. a beautiful cherokee girl with eyes that were hard to look away from, a scrawny latino boy who's hands were a constant blur of adhd induced motion, and finally was that blonde boy who's eyes left you reeling. a striking blue that you had only ever seen in one other person...thalia. and a scar on his upper lip...roughly the right size for a staple to be the cause. there was no way...the gods could be so cruel sometimes.

"a-are you jason? jason james grace?" you gasped out, eyes locked on the boy as your lip wobbled in sympathy of thalia. she wasn't even here to greet the one boy who never left her mind. jason jolted at you knowing his name, eyes wide and slowly nodding his head.

"do- do i know you? do you know me?" the poor amnesic boy questioned and you half-shook your head and half-nodded.

"no, not really. but...i know your sister, thalia-" and before you could get more out, jason was jolting forwards, a vesical reaction to his sisters name. you leapt forwards, catching him from plummeting to the ground and instead slowly crumbling down there with him, your arms firmly wrapped around him in hopes of providing some comfort. you had the fleeting thought that you hoped someone would be there to catch your baby brother like this if he were to ever need it.

"i...i remember thalia. my big sister," jason whispered against your shoulder, fighting off tears as the memories rushed his brain. and you smiled softly and squeezed the boy a little tighter.

"she'll be so so happy to see you, jason. her baby brother that she thought was dead. you know, she never forgot you, she loved to talk about you to me," you muttered, gently rocking him like you would a baby, despite his grown age. jason pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes in seek of lies.

"she loves talking about how your favorite snack just so happens to be staplers-"

"one time! it was one time!" jason hissed out, isntantly, and you laughed.

"yes, but that scar really doesn't help your arguement," you mused and jason just shook his head, but he seemed more at ease then when he first arrived.

you couldn't help but think that you and thalia had traded places. a daughter of the big three lost their baby brother so the other could have hers back. and you thought, faintly, that you and thalia would always live like this. wretched mirrors of the very things you wanted, but the only way for it to come true was to damage the loving face looking back at you.