#she was harnessed to her mother for the first half of her current life. so no freedom at all

[lionblaze03-2]

Anemone is honestly an incredible character and if you guys can't see that then you just don't understand negative character development

[thequiver]

Who is....Ruth Aldine | Blindfold? A Reading Guide

Ruth Aldine in an X-Men affiliated mutant from Marvel comics first introduced in 2004. She was born with no eyes or open eye sockets and due to her mutant condition her father left her, her mother, and her older brother only a week after her birth. Spending her childhood tormented by her abusive older brother, Ruth would eventually find freedom and happiness only after her mother had died protecting her from her brother's attempt on her life. Now living with her aunt, Ruth would begin to teach herself to harness and control her extensive mutant powers, but her brother's execution would result in him stealing half of her powers and her being sent to the Xavier Institute, where she first received her codename, Blindfold.

Ruth is currently the girlfriend of Professor Xavier's son, David Haller, and does not have a corporeal form on Krakoa, instead living inside of David's head. David has however as of 3. May. 2023 blinked himself out of existence and Ruth's fate is unknown.

Ruth was born in North Carolina and it is implied that she is from the Appalachian region of the state!

Below the cut you'll find a mostly complete reading order for Ruth!

First Appearances

Ruth's first appearances are found in the lead-up to M-Day/Decimation and its immediate aftermath. It may be beneficial to read Astonishing X-Men (2004/Vol. 3) #1-6 for context before reading Ruth's first appearance if you would like a better understanding of the run.

Astonishing X-Men (2004) #7-8 New X-Men (2004) #23-24 X-Men (1991) #201-204 [A stories only] New X-Men (2004) #37-41 Astonishing X-Men (2004) #15-18

Divided We Stand, Manifest Destiny, and Utopia

In the wake of Messiah Complex Charles Xavier is presumed dead and X-Men are disbanded. There is no home for mutants, no trust and no purpose to live for. Scott Summers is at this time the leader of mutantkind...things are going about as well as you'd expect. This gets picked back up following Necrosha (explained below).

Young X-Men (2008) #1-6 X-Men: Manifest Destiny (2008) #3 [C Story] Dark Avengers/Uncanny X-Men: Utopia Dark Avengers/Uncanny X-Men: Exodus

Necrosha

Necrosha is a crossover event that deals with mutants being resurrected for the dark purposes of Selene Gallio (an old enemy of the X-Men, first appearing in New Mutants (1983) #9) who intends to use these resurrected mutants in her quest to become a goddess.

X-Necrosha (2009) #1 X-Force (2008) #21-22 X-Men: Legacy (2008) #231-233

Utopia Continued

The following issues are a continuation of Utopia!

Nation X (2010) #2 [C Story] X-Men: Pixie Strikes Back (2010) #1-3 <- this a 4 issue story so I would personally recommend reading #4 as well ;) X-Men: To Serve and Protect #3 X-Men: Legacy (2008) #244

Age of X (sort of)

The mutants are almost extinct, tortured by a strike force led by Colonel Graydon Creed. The first signs of the Age of X appeared in X-Men: Legacy #244; the events were removed from the Earth-616 mainstream continuity, with no memories of the alternate lives. If you've taken a look at my David Haller Reading List you'll see this event explained as "David’s desire to be loved forces him to grapple with reality," and as a story that "places David in a role where he has to choose between a false universe where he is considered a beloved hero and reality where he must choose to be a hero despite the fear others feel about him." Ruth's appearances here are still pretty connected to the X-Men: Legacy (2008) plotline we've been following now for a bit.

New Mutants (2009) #22, 24, 27

Curse of the Mutants

In what can only be described as the "oh shit we've run out of ideas" last resort of any creative company putting out too many crossover events in a short period of time..... the X-Office put out Curse of the Mutants. The arc centers on a human bomb exploding in San Francisco's Union Square, covering dozens in vampire-converting blood. It then becomes the mission of the X-Men to track down Dracula's son Xarus, now "Lord of the Vampires", even if that means enlisting vampire-hunter Blade. Yeah.... I don't know either.

X-Men (2010) #11

Schism and Regenesis

Schism follows the break-up of the X-Men at a moment of peak anti-mutant sentiment. Regenesis is the period of regrowth and reorganization following Schism.

X-Men: Schism (2011) #5 <- May be helpful to read #1-4 as well! X-Men: Regenesis (2011) #1 X-Men: Legacy (2008) #259, 261, 263

Avengers vs. X-Men

When the Phoenix Force approaches Earth, Hope Summers is assumed its next host. The X-Men and the Avengers are divided on how to handle the situation. The X-Men believe that the Phoenix Force will herald the rebirth of the Mutant Species, while the Avengers believe that it will bring an end to all life on Earth. This leads to a war between Marvel's two powerful superhero factions.

Avengers vs. X-Men (2012) #3

Legion: Son of X

This is where Ruth's path first crosses with the professor's son, David Haller, in any real meaningful way. It does however mold her story around his and start the descent of her story into being focused around David rather than Ruth.

X-Men: Legacy (2013) #1-24

Ruth has a handful of blink and you'll miss it appearances between Son of X and This is Forever but they aren't..... really important at all and don't really do anything to tell Ruth's story.

This is Forever

The X-Men are all presumed dead, but this isn't the case.

Uncanny X-Men (2019) #11

Legion of X and Before the Fall

Ruth Aldine is back from the dead.... and is now living inside of David Haller's head rather than having a body, and oh did we mention that she now pretty much has no motivations that don't revolve around David and is only seen when she can promote David?..... As a David fan, I am exhausted.

Legion of X (2022) #1-10 X-Men: Before the Fall- Sons of X (2023) #1

Reading list is current up until 6. November. 2023!

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

While re reading AGOT JON II I realized how the various sounds play a sutle role in this chapter.

The chapter’s opening paragraph is Jon feeling discomfort to the silence within Winterfell’s castle:

Jon climbed the steps slowly, trying not to think that this might be the last time ever. Ghost padded silently beside him. Outside, snow swirled through the castle gates, and the yard was all noise and chaos, but inside the thick stone walls it was still warm and quiet. Too quiet for Jon's liking.

He’s about to visit Bran for the first - and last - time after the fall and he feels frightened because he has to face Lady Stark in order to do so.

Once he enters Bran’s room - a child who was once bright, cheerful and full of life - the silence continues interrupted only by Catelyn’s unwelcoming words and the howling of Summer.

When he hesitates to enter the door of Bran’s room is like his little brother via Summer is welcoming him to do so:

He stood in the door for a moment, afraid to speak, afraid to come closer. The window was open. Below, a wolf howled. Ghost heard and lifted his head.

When Jon tells Bran that he’s rooting for him to wake up, Summer howls once again:

"Bran," he said, "I'm sorry I didn't come before. I was afraid." He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks. Jon no longer cared. "Don't die, Bran. Please. We're all waiting for you to wake up. Me and Robb and the girls, everyone …"

Lady Stark was watching. She had not raised a cry. Jon took that for acceptance. Outside the window, the direwolf howled again. The wolf that Bran had not had time to name.

During that scene the silence between Jon and Catelyn is descripted as awkward, which is understanble considering that the grim circumstances their meeting takes place and also the fact that despite living on the same castle usually Jon avoids the places Lady Stark is. 

The unkind, unjustified words Catelyn says to Jon in the end break the uncomfortable silence into something else : the weeping of a mother who is losing her son. And that combined with Catelyn’s horrible words haunts Jon.

"It should have been you," she told him. Then she turned back to Bran and began to weep, her whole body shaking with the sobs. Jon had never seen her cry before.

Right after, as he meets Robb in the middle of Winterfell’s yard, loud sounds are interrupting their goodbye scene. Which is again understantable, as not only Jon but also Lord Stark are about to leave Winterfell so lots of preparations needs to be done. However, it is interesting that given Jon’s current state the noise is linked to his confusion:

Outside, everything was noise and confusion. Wagons were being loaded, men were shouting, horses were being harnessed and saddled and led from the stables. A light snow had begun to fall, and everyone was in an uproar to be off.

Robb was in the middle of it, shouting commands with the best of them. He seemed to have grown of late, as if Bran's fall and his mother's collapse had somehow made him stronger. Grey Wind was at his side.

Robb being part of the noise indicates that while their goodbye scene is sweet that he can’t really connect with Jon at that moment.

Unlike the person who is the third one to receive a goodbye from Jon: his beloved little sister, Arya. In order to say goodbye to Arya, Jon enters the castle once more and goes to an isolated room again but this time the place isn’t linked with awkward silence. How could it be when he’s visiting the person he feels the most comfortable with?

This time the visit is accompanied with happy sounds. Arya laughing with Jon’s joke and later on even Jon - who was half an hour ago terrified- is having a laugh:

"Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa's legs?"

She giggled at him.

Arya ran to him for a last hug. "Put down the sword first," Jon warned her, laughing. She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses.

Finally, the chapter ends with Jon remembering Arya’s laughter. This fond image and sound of his little sister is making him feel better and he departs from the place he had lived his whole life to join the Night’s Watch.

The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north.

[writing-blog-iguess]

Harley Quinn

Summery: The batfamily hears three stories about batmom and Harley. How they met, how they started dating, and how they ended.

Warning: fluff, angst.

A/N: This bish is 4847 words. I did not mean to write that much.

Man, the amount of love I got from Stories...I'm so happy people enjoyed it. So, I hope you enjoy this one just as much.

Feedback is welcome! And feel free to let me know who or what kind of story of Batmom you want to see next.

-------

There were only two weeks left of summer, and she wanted to move onto campus as soon as possible. But her friend, Selina, had made it a little difficult for her. On the first day the campus was allowing their students to come, Selina had come over and stopped her from packing. And they spent the day together shopping, seeing a movie and eating. Selina ended up crashing at her place after they had binged a show.

When she started packing the next day, Selina did the same. But after a promise of hanging out when she was settled in her dorms, Selina conceded and helped with the packing. And after some whining and pizza, Selina came with her to campus to help as well.

Struggling to keep the heavy box in her hands, she made her way towards her dorm. “You can help me, you know,” she grunted, shifting the box as it was slipping out of her arms.

“I am,” Selina said, holding up a couple of garbage bags full of clothes. “My hands are just full to help you carry your box.”

“You’re funny,” she deadpanned. Selina flashed her a smile, to which she returned one of her own.

“And that’s why you love me.”

“No, no I don’t think that’s it,” she mused, looking at each dorm number. “I think I love your cat more. And that’s why we’re friends.”

Selina gasped mockingly, and bumped her shoulder. “I knew it!” She laughed just as she found her dorm room.

Fishing out her key from her pocket, she handed it to Selina and waited until Selina opened the door. The minute she walked through the door, she was eloped in a hug. It caught her by surprise that she dropped the box she was holding.

“Hiya! I’m your new roommate!”

“And they were roommates,” Dick gasped out, interrupting the story.

“Oh my god, they were roommates,” Tim finished, and three out of the four boys burst out laughing.

“You two are hilarious,” she said, slumping into her chair. They had just finished dinner when the boys started bombarding her with questions about her and Harley. And after teasing them a little about which story. She started with how she met her ex-fiancé.

“Are you two done?” Bruce asked, and the laughter slowly downed a little. Until they caught each other’s eyes, and it started again.

Damian rolled his eyes, and turned to his mother. “I didn’t know you and Selina were in a relationship,” he said, and that had caused Dick, Jason and Tim to stop and look at her.

“No, no we weren’t dating,” she answered, shaking her head. “I didn’t know my sexuatilty until I started dating Harley.”

“And how long did that take?” Jason asked, rolling his cup on the table.

She blew out a puff of air and sighed. “When we were twenty-one. Even then I needed help.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard this one,” Bruce said with a smile. She flushed in embarrassment and looked away before recalling the story.

——

“Pumpkin,” her roommate sang from the other side of the room. She hummed, blinking at her homework trying to keep awake. She was currently laying on her stomach with her chin sitting on her hand. “Maybe you should take a break. You’ve been at it for hours.”

“Pft, I’m fine,” she answered, though the words were starting to blur together. “Hey!” she said, as Harley yanked the book from her. “I need that.”

“And you need a break,” she pressed, closing the book with a snap. “Come on Pumpkin, let’s get something to eat.”

She pouted trying to grab her textbook. Harley giggled and held it out of her reach. “Harley,” she whined, “the test I'm studying for is supposed to cost half of my grade.”

“You should know that taking care of your body is more important than school, doctor,” Harley teased. She stuck her tongue out, causing Harley to poke it. “Come on, we’ll go to your favourite café.”

She lit up and quickly got out of bed, almost tripping on her feet doing so. Harley laughed and tossed the book onto the bed. “You gotta be more careful, pumpkin.” She made a face, and grabbed her stuff before the two of them left their apartment.

She looped her arm through Harley’s as they walked. Talking about everything and nothing that came to mind. On occasion, she would check her phone, hoping for any messages from Bruce. But there were none.

She hasn’t spoken to Bruce since the last time they hung out, and she wondered if it was something that she did. Though the thought was ridiculous. They’ve only met up a handful of times since he’d been back. And even then, she couldn’t think of a reason why he was avoiding her.

The only thing she could think of was their first conversation they had together. But that was back when he first arrived in Gotham.

Bruce had found the apartment she was sharing with Harley, and decided to pay her a visit before the tabloids caught wind of him being back.

It had caught her by surprise when Harley called, saying there was a billionaire holding pizza. Confused on what she meant, she rounded the corner to find Bruce Wayne standing in her hallway.

After giving him a hug, and a little catch up, the three of you spent the night hanging out. And it felt like nothing had changed between the two of you.

It wasn’t until Harley had gone to bed, that Bruce told you everything that happened since leaving Gotham when he was fourteen. He told you how his training had gone, and all the people he’s met.

It was one thing reading about them through Bruce’s letters. But it was a different experience hearing them from Bruce. When he had finished, he told her it was time to start fixing Gotham his way.

With a sigh, she had hoped that he had changed his mind. Instead of talking him out of it, she suggested waiting a little bit before doing so. Make Bruce Wayne into a public figure, or more then he already is. And then have his second persona make an appearance. Only so people didn’t connect that the two were related.

That had been two months ago. And sure, she’s been busy with school and midterms were just around the corner, and Bruce was busy running a company and….well, being a playboy from what she’s read in magazines. She didn’t read the articles, it hurt a little reading them.

And he was also busy with being Batman. She laughed at the name the media had dubbed him, it almost made her call him up just to tease him about it. But she refrained from doing so. She was unsure where she fit in his new life, and at this point she was too afraid of the answer to ask.

When they arrived at the café, she found a table for them while Harley ordered.

Harley looked over the rim of the coffee cup in her hand when her friend sighed again. “You’re in love with Bruce!” Harley accused.

She dropped her bagel on her plate and stared at Harley in shock. “I am not!”

“You totally are! You keep checking your phone like your love sick, waiting for someone to call you.”

“I am not in love with Bruce,” she stuttered out, “why would I be? He left to go to school abroad, and shows up eight years later! And so what if I thought about him during those years, and was worried about him. That’s what friends do, they worry about them. It’s not like I noticed how much he’s changed or dream about holding his hand or...or kissing him or…or...” she trailed off as she thought back to all the times her heart hammered in her chest when he smiled at her.

Or all the times Bruce made her blush. She thought back to how she smiled when she saw Bruce’s letter in the mail, or how happy she felt as she read them. Or how relieved she felt when she saw Bruce in her apartment or how hurt she was when she saw him with different girls every night.

Then she thought about all that when she was with Harley. Could she be in love with Harley too? But she quickly dismissed it, thinking it wasn’t possible.

She slumped into her chair as Harley set her mug down, and smirked at her in satisfaction. “Holy hell, I’m in love with Bruce Wayne.”

“There it is,” Harley said, giggling as she received a glare. “You’ve known Bruce since you guys were little, how is it only now that you're realizing this?”

“I don’t…” she trailed off, hands picking up her cup. She twirled it around the table as she tried to come up with the right words, “I’m not...when I can’t pick up the cues when it comes to stuff like that.”

“So someone has to tell you that they love you. Like your parents loving you,” Harley mused, she shrugged.

“I know they do and I can see that they love me. But for whatever reason, when it comes to romantic feelings, I have a blind eye,” she explained, letting the cup go in favour of pulling apart her muffin. She huffed out a laugh. “It’s funny. Back in high school there was this guy who asked me out on a date. But he didn’t use those words, he used ‘wanna hang out?’

“I said yes. It wasn’t until he kissed me that it was starting to click. Even then I didn’t fully understand. Selina told me what it was that I knew. I was so embarrassed I couldn‘t face him. I feel like there’s something wrong with me.”

Harley leaned over and took her hands, she stilled her hands and her eyes flitted up to Harley. And her heart stuttered as Harley looked at her. “Nothing’s wrong with you pumpkin. People process things differently, you just happen to need someone to tell you.”

Relief washed over her and she smiled. “Thanks, Hars.” Harley hummed and leaned back, letting go of her hand. She missed the warmth of Haley’s hands, but didn’t think anything of it, especially when she noticed a twinkle in Harley's eyes.

“So, are you going to tell Brucie?” Harley teased, she made a face and shook her head.

“No, I will not,” she said.

“But he might love you back!” Harley exclaimed, “pumpkin, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He looks at you like you hung the moon every night.”

“Even if that’s true, I don’t think it’ll work. At least not right now,” she mumbled, and quickly added when Haley gave her a confused look, “he’s not interested in anything serious right now.”

Harley nodded in understanding, and she looked away when she saw pity in Harley's eyes.

That weekend, she found herself in the school library with Harley and Jonathan doing homework. Harley had just left for drinks, leaving the two of them alone.

Jonathan looked up from his homework and studied his friend. She hunched over her books and tapped her pencil on her head as she was going over a question.

“Are you and Harley dating?” Jonathan blurted out. She froze and lifted her head to look at him in surprise.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at her reaction, and stifled a laugh. “I think you heard me.”

“Oh I heard. But what made you come to that conclusion?” she clarified, squinting her eyes at him.

“The way you two act around each other,” he explained, “you're all in love and shit. It’s a wonder you haven’t kissed yet.”

“I don’t….but I can’t….” she trailed off. The words weren’t coming and she wasn’t quite sure if she did or not. “Friends can act like that platonically!”

“That’s true. But with you two, it’s hard to tell. You both have heart eyes every time you either talk about each other, or just being in the same room.”

She stayed quiet, she didn’t have anything to say.

“You know, when Harley told me you process feelings differently than most people, I thought she was joking,” he mused, this time chuckling.

“It’s great to know you talk about me,” she deadpanned, setting down her pencil.

“But I’m serious, do you like her or not?” he asked, and she let her head drop on her textbook and groaned.

“I don’t know. The other day, Harley helped me discover I’m in love with my childhood best friend. And now you're making me question my feelings for Harley.”

Jonathan held up his hands in surrender, though she wasn’t paying attention. “Wasn’t my intent, I just figured you needed to know.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly, and lifted her hand and flipped him off. He laughed and gently patted her head.

“I’ll ask a question or two, maybe it’ll help.”

She nodded but kept her head on the table. Jonathan's smile grew wider, enjoying this a little bit too much.

“When you see her, what do you do?”

She took a moment to ponder the question. “My heart starts to beat faster and I can’t help but think how pretty she is. And I get all flustered when she gets really close or she gives me a compliment. And when she’s happy and smiling and laughing, and my butterflies explode in my stomach when that happens because I did that. And sometimes, when she’s pouting or just sad, I just want to pull her into a kiss.”

Jonathan raised an eye at her statement, and had no doubt that she was blushing. “What about Bruce?”

“The same thing! He winks my way and the next thing I know I’m a blushing mess. And when he gives me a certain look, it’s like I gave him everything and I melt and just want to kiss his stupid face! And I hate him for that, but not really and….hhhhh!”

“Damn,” Jonathan huffed out, staring at her. “You have it bad for both of them.”

“But I can’t love two people at once!” she exclaimed, getting shushed by other students. She paid them no mind, head racing on what she should do.

“Who says?” Jonathan asked, and she paused to think about it. “There's no rule saying you have to like one person at the time,” he continued when she didn’t answer. “Now the question is who are you going to pick? Bruce or Harley?”

“What if they both don’t love me?” she whispered, lifting her head up slightly. “What if it’s all in my head and they laugh if I tell them?”

“I don’t know about Bruce, but Harley won’t,” he answered, going back to his homework, “trust me.”

She spent the next week pondering over her conversations with Harley and Jonathan. And there were a few things she’s discovered.

She’s bisexual.

She’s really bad at feelings and seeing them for what they are. Though this wasn’t anything new, still she hated that she needed help when it comes to emotions.

If she did choose Bruce over Harley, it wouldn’t have worked out. Not only because of him being Batman, but because she didn’t see it as a long term relationship. And she didn’t want that.

And if she chose Harley over Bruce, she didn’t want to make Harley feel like she was second pick. She didn’t want that either.

By the weekend, she still doesn’t know what to do.

Sighing, she fell on her bed. She stared at the ceilings and groaned, pressing her palms to her eyes. “Why is this hard?”

“I don’t know pumpkin, maybe I can help?” Harley suggested, startling her. She sat up quickly and turned to see Harley leaning against the doorframe.

“Help me with what?” she asked, nervously laughing. Harley smiled and walked further in the room.

“Whatever you’re having trouble with,” Harley answered.

She sighed and fell onto the bed again, she took a pillow and hugged it to her chest. “I don’t think this is something you can help with,” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

She felt the bed dip, and felt Harley shift around until she stopped. “I could listen to you rant about it?”

She hummed, but shook her head. “It’s something I need to figure out.”

Silence fell around them as she thought. Harley brought her hand over her face and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She tensed at the sudden touch, but soon relaxed into it.

“Does it have something to do with what you and Jonathan were talking about last week?” Harley asked after a moment.

Her eyes flew open and she stared at Harley, panicking a little. If Harley knew, there’s nothing she could say that wouldn’t be a lie.

“But I…did he tell you?” she asked, Harley nodded. She groaned and stuffed her face into the mattress. “Damnit.”

Harley giggled and slowly moved her face so they could look at each other. “If it helps any, I love you too.”

She flushed, and looked anywhere but Harley. “But I don’t want to make you feel like a second choice. I don’t want you to resent me because you know I love Bruce too.”

“Hey I won’t,” Harley reassured. Biting her lip, she shook her head. Harley sighed, and moved to press her forehead against hers. “Can I tell you a secret? I loved you before I knew you loved Bruce, and I still love you knowing that. I just hope you can give me a chance.”

She studied Harley for a moment before closing the distance and kissed her.

——

“Ew! Mom! Gross! We don’t need to hear about that!” Dick interrupted. She looked up to see her boys looking at her in disgust. Jason and Tim gagged mockingly as Dick shuddered.

“What? It was just a kiss,” she answered, amused.

“Yeah but you kissed Harley. And that means you’ve done more than kissing,” Jason said.

“You knew this when your father told you I was engaged to her.”

“It’s one thing thinking about it, it’s a whole different thing to hear it from you, Mom,” Tim said, leaning back into his chair.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Shrugging, she picked up her glass and took a sip.

“So Harley figured out you loved me before you did? And this after meeting me once,” Bruce asked, amused. She felt her cheeks burn and looked away.

“Wasn’t my proudest moment, but yes she did,” she said with a shrug.

“And she was okay with it?”

She nodded, smiling a little at the memory. “Yeah. She didn’t seem to mind too much about it. But I didn’t spend too much time being hung up on Bruce. I was too busy with Har-”

“Ma!” Jason exclaimed, stopping her from finishing the sentence.

“I wasn’t even going to say anything bad!” she defended.

“You went to school with Crane?” Damian asked. She turned her attention to the youngest and nodded.

“We had a few classes together, and Harley just sort of adopted him into the friend group,” she mused.

“What I can’t get over, is the fact that Crane had to tell you about your feelings for Harley,” Dick put out.

“Like I said, I have a hard time deciphering emotions. Especially when it comes to romantic feelings. But once I know, then I’m okay.”

“How long were you together before getting engaged?” Damian asked, though it was still hard to believe his mother had someone before Bruce.

“And who popped the question?”

She looked at the clock and back to the boys. “Doesn't the patrol start soon?” she asked. The boys looked at Bruce with their best puppy eyes. Well, Dick, Jason and Tim did, Damian seemed indifferent but Bruce could tell he wanted to hear the story as well.

“If it’s okay with your mother, we can listen to one more story,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow at her husband. “What?”

“And I thought I couldn’t say no,” she said with a mumble.

“Shut up,” he said, but smiled slightly.

“So Ma, what’s the story?”

Her hand went up to her necklace and started playing with it as she thought back. “We’ve been together for almost eight years before I asked her.”

——

She fell on the couch once she got home from the hospital. It had been a taxing day, and all she wanted to do was curl up with Harley and sleep until the morning. But they had dinner plans they needed to get to, and if everything turned out as planned, she and Harley would be engaged.

Over the years of dating, conversation of marriage would come up. Whether it be just then asking about it, or their friends. They both wanted it, but they silently agreed that they wouldn’t take it seriously until they both finished school.

Harley had already finished her last year of residency, and she was one you last year. Granted, she still had a month left, but she figured it would still count.

“Pumpkin, I’m home,” Harley called as she walked in.

“Living room,” she answered back. A moment later, Harley walked in the room and plopped beside her. Harley laid her head on her lap and sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair. “Tiring day?”

Harley nodded and closed her eyes. “I know we had plans to go out, but can we stay in? Arkham really took me out.”

She scrunched her nose, her hands stopped moving. “I thought you didn’t start there until next week?”

“I did, but something happened with the inmates,” Harley answered.

“And they needed a psychiatrist?”

“Apparently some of the inmates needed help and they couldn’t wait until next week,” Harley said, and sighed happily when she resumed playing with Harley’s hair. “So can we stay in?”

“Yeah, we can. We can order take out and watch a movie or something,” she mused, trying to think of a new plan. “What do you want?”

“Chinese.”

She smiled and reached over, grabbing her phone and ordering food. Once finished, she set the phone before turning back to Harley. She stared at her loving, watching as Harley was slowly falling asleep.

“You’re staring,” Harley mumbled with a smile.

“I can’t help, you’re just too gorgeous to look at anything else,” she teased. Harley blushed and snuggled into her legs.

“Shut up.”

Thinking it’s the perfect time, she went for it. “Marry me?” Harley’s eyes flew open, and she quickly sat down and looked at her.

“What?”

“Marry me,” she repeated, smiling at the bewildered look Harley was giving her. “I know we talked about it a few times. And since I have a month left of residency, I figured why not. So, marry me?”

Harley looked at her for a minute before smiling widely, and threw her arms around her, laughing. “Of course I will, pumpkin!” Harley said, kissing her all over her face.

And just like that they were engaged.

As the months went by, they planned a wedding. They had decided who was going to be in the wedding party, where the venue would be, and who was going to cater for them. They just needed to book everything, but they weren’t going to do so until they picked out the wedding day.

And for a while everything was perfect. Up until Harley started seeing Joker as a patient. She didn’t see it, not a first. She took it as Harley having bad days or long tiring days at Arkham. And with doctor patient confidentiality, Harley couldn’t talk about their problems.

But Harley could tell her how the day went. If it was bad, she’d drop it and offer to make Harley's favourite foods.

Then Harley started to become distant. She would come home later than normal, and would snap for no reason. She had tried to get Harley to talk to her, but she wouldn’t. She kept saying she was fine and it had been a long day. It was worrying.

All at once, it stopped. Harley stopped talking to her, and stopped coming home.

She was out of her mind, worrying for Harley. She hoped her fiancée would come home. It was to the point that she went out and looked for Harley.

But Bruce had stopped her before she could leave the apartment.

She had found him waiting in her living room after a long shift at the hospital. It had startled her seeing Bruce dressed as Batman standing there, he cowl down.

She was about to greet him, but the sad, pitied expression Bruce had stopped her. “No, don’t…don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step forward, she stepped back. “But something happened to Harley.”

She shook her head frantically, covering her mouth with her hands. “Nononono, she can’t have…please,” she begged, as Bruce wrapped her into a hug when he was close enough.

“I’m sorry, but Joker got into her head,” he started, tightening his grip as she choked back a sob. “Convinced her that they were meant for each other. Made her fall in the chemicals he fell into. She’s alive, but she isn’t Harley anymore. Not the one you knew anyways.”

She broke down crying before Bruce finished his sentence. She clung to him like a lifeline as the words sunk in.

She expected to hear that Harley died, that someone had killed her. Not this. But this? This was so much worse.

——

A heavy silence fell once she finished. She was clutching the ring that was threaded on a chain. It helped keep the tears at bay. She didn’t want to cry, not now, not after so many years.

“The next day, Bruce told me the full story,” she whispered, and grimaced as the fight flashed before her. “We fought. Okay, I yelled and he just took him. I said some things I shouldn’t have and I avoided him for a while.”

“I remember that,” Dick said, leaning onto the table. “Bruce looked heartbroken during that time. And every time I tried to ask what happened, he shut me down. Even at gala’s when you were there, he looked like he wanted to go and talk to you.”

Bruce looked at him in surprise. Dick was only eight when that happened, he didn’t think he was paying attention.

On the other hand, she felt guilt crawling in her stomach, and slouched into her chair. She hid her face in her hands when Dick continued.

“That falling out thing happened for a few years, didn’t it?” he asked. She opted to stay quiet, letting Bruce answer the question.

“Three or four years, yeah.”

Tim was about to ask what had happened, but Jason nudged him and shook his head. Tim gave him a look, and Jason gestured to their mom, practically saying I don’t think she wants to talk about it.

“Sorry for bringing up the past Ummi,” Damian said softly. “We didn’t know.”

Rubbing her face to get rid of stray tears, she dropped her hands onto the table. “That’s okay sweetie. I wouldn’t have told you anything if it still hurts.”

“So, how’d you fix your friendship with Bruce?” Jason asked. She shook her head and stood.

“Bruce can tell you,” she said, stretching, “I have the night shift tonight. And I need to get ready.”

With that she left her boys staring at Bruce, waiting.

“It’s time for patrol,” he gruffed out and followed his wife. The boys groaned, saying that wasn’t fair.

“Are you okay?” he asked when he reached their bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her quickly change and grabbed her stuff before pausing. She clutched her keys and sighed.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” she sighed, dropping her shoulders. “After ten years, it still hurts. Not as much as it did, but still.”

Bruce nodded, and pushed off the frame and wrapped his arms around her. Holding her close. “I’m sorry again for everything.”

“You know I don’t blame you anymore, you don’t need to apologize for it.”

“Feels like I have too. You don’t deserve to have gone through that.”

“No one does but life sucks that way,” she said, giving him a smile. “I have to go.”

Bruce frowned, tightening his hold a little. “I wish you didn’t.”

“I’m a doctor Bruce, but I’ll be careful,” she said, reaching up to kiss him. “You be careful too tonight.” He nodded and dropped his arms and watched as she left the room.

“I love you,” he called. She popped her head back in and smiled.

“I love you too.”

Running out of the manor and to her car, she didn’t notice a figure standing in the distance. Harley signed as she watched, glad that her ex-lover found happiness again. And promised she’d do whatever it took to keep it that way.

[egcdeath]

first impressions

pairing: soft!ransom drysdale x reader 

summary: [request] “hmm prompts... Ransom introducing you (a total opposite of him) to his family for the first time, or a Thrombey wedding! if you feel like it” i like where your brain is at anon! but why not a little bit of both? ;)

word count: 3.7k

warnings: pretty fluffy, some angst, toxic family dynamics

author’s note: this has been super lightly edited so pls forgive any mistakes <3 click here if you’d like to be added to my taglist & all reblogs are super appreciated!

You felt slightly out of place driving through the neighborhood of your youth in the passenger seat of Ransom’s beloved Beamer. Thinking of how your parents would react to your boyfriend, let alone his lifestyle of excess, made your heart rate increase, and you shuffled a bit in your seat unconsciously as a result of your nerves. As if he were reading your thoughts, Ransom set a steady hand on your knee and gave it a tiny reassuring squeeze before parking in front of the curb ahead of your home. 

Nervously exiting the vehicle, you watched wordlessly as Ransom grabbed your overnight bags from the trunk, and hauled them over his shoulders. Still saying nothing, you reached out and grabbed Ransom’s hand, constricting his circulation as you strolled up to your door, and rang your own doorbell.

When your mother whipped open the door and offered you an excited grin, you finally were able to let out the breath that you weren’t even aware you were holding.

“Goose!” your mother cheered, squeezing the life out of you while you snuck a glance at Ransom who seemed rather amused by the childhood pet name. “And who’s this?” she asked, pulling away from you and looking him up and down.

“I’m Ransom, your daughter’s boyfriend,” he announced with confidence, offering your mom friendly smile, before glancing back over at you and raising his brows the slightest bit. 

“Finally putting a face to the name, then. I’ve heard all about you from this one. Come on in,” she gestured for the two of you to enter. “Y/N can show you to her room, and dinner will be ready in about a half hour,” with that, your mother was off, and you were once again alone with Ransom.

You showed him up to your room, where he set down the bags and flopped down onto your bright pink duvet.

“Goose, huh?” he questioned, rolling on the hyperfeminine twin mattress. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, before sitting down next to the headboard of the bed.

“Do you think she liked me?” Ransom asked, seemingly out of nowhere. “Did you tell her good things about me?”

“Since when do you care about what other people think of you?” you giggled a bit, and planted your fingers in Ransom’s hair. 

“I care because…” he thought for a moment, calculating just how honest he wanted to be. “I care because this is the longest relationship I’ve been in, and I want my future parents-in-law to like me.”

“We’ve been together for like, a year, Ran. But I applaud your commitment to me,” you massaged his scalp as you spoke, and ignored the butterflies floating throughout your torso at his mention of marriage. 

“Well? Do you think she likes me?” he asked once again. 

“Mmm, I like when you care about things,” you pressed a little peck to his forehead, and hovered a bit over his face. “She said like, 20 words to you, max. But after dinner I’m sure they’ll like you. At least I hope they will.”

Ransom playfully swatted at you. “How comforting. Wait, stay right there,” he reached up and held the hand that was massaging his scalp in place. 

——

By the time dinner came around, you seemed to have switched emotions with your partner, as you were feeling much more relaxed, and Ransom on the other hand, was not.

He kept a hand on your knee under the table in what seemed like a grounding technique, squeezing every now and then while your father plated your meals.

“So, how did you two meet?” your father questioned, sitting down beside your mom.

“We met while we were volunteering at the Humane Society together,” you gushed, glancing over at your partner who was nervously sipping his water, then back at your parents. “He always seemed so pissed in the beginning. I mean, the amount of times I saw him growling obscenities while tugging on harnesses, or playing the most unenthusiastic games of fetch I’d ever seen in my life is astounding,” you laughed softly, and looked over at Ransom once again as if you were cueing him to speak.

“Yeah, I really didn’t like it there at first. Not really a dog guy, but my grandad said it was community service or no allowance, and I was not interested in the latter,” he chuckled awkwardly and received confused expressions from your parents, which granted you an SOS squeeze on the knee. 

“Um, anyway, one day we were closing, and I went into the last cat suite, and there grumpy old Ransom was, cuddling with Garfield, you know, the old cat with the three legs, and it was literally the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Especially ‘cause Garfield is so hard to please,'' you paused to take a bite of the food in front of you. “We started talking more after that, then he asked me out, and of course I said yes. I guess the rest is history.”

“Aw, Goose, that’s so cute!” your mom cooed, but the moment didn’t last too long. 

“What do you do for work, Ransom?” Your dad asked, tilting his beer at the man. 

“I’m currently in between jobs. But, uh, I’ve been doing a lot of volunteer work.” 

Your father nodded wordlessly and paused for a second. “Volunteering get you a Beamer?”

“Dad!” You interrupted in a yelp, “please.” You frowned as you looked between the men. 

“Y/N, it’s fine. It’s a good question, but I got it as a gift a few years back. And, you know, my family’s comfortable.”

Before your father could respond, your mom popped in to save the conversation. “No money talk at the table, please. Tell me more about your relationship,” she gave both of you a sympathetic look. 

——

After that, dinner went on without much of a hitch, and you agreed upon doing the dishes with your mother while your father and boyfriend prepared a little fire outside.

“He seems sweet,” she commented after a long period of silence. 

“I’m glad you think so. He was really worried about you not liking him, and honestly, I was too,” you rinsed the last glass before setting it in your dishwasher.

“I just want you to be careful, okay? When you have that much money, people do strange things, or say things they don’t mean and expect you to just take it. He seems like a good boy, but just don’t let your guard completely down. The last breakup you went through-“

“Stop, I get it,” you sighed softly. 

“This doesn’t mean I don’t like him. I just don’t want to see you that hurt again,” she gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Let’s go stop your dad from catching a murder charge,” she beckoned you to follow her out to the backyard, where your boyfriend and dad were… laughing together? If you weren’t so relieved, it’d almost be off-putting. 

The rest of the night went alarmingly well, Ransom finding a way to bond with both of your parents after an awkward first half of the evening. As the two of you crawled into your tiny bed and spooned while drifting off to sleep, Ransom slurred a tired ‘I think they liked me,’ into your ear. 

From that point on, Ransom’s position within your family only became better. For the first time, he was welcomed into a familial environment that wasn’t more toxic than a Chernobyl cooling tower, and Ransom was loving it. After suggesting to spend that year’s Thanksgiving at your parents’ home, spending the holidays with the L/N family became a frequent occurrence for the two of you. 

Though you occasionally wondered why you were four years into a relationship with the man, and still hadn’t met his family, which to your understanding, was rather large, you had better things to concern yourself with. You understood and respected that Ransom’s relationship with his own family wasn't the best, from the little that he shared with you, but occasionally curiosity often got the best of you.

Yet, things seemed to shift after your engagement. In the midst of dress fittings and cake tastings, Ransom had decided that it was finally time for you to meet the rest of the Thrombey clan, and that there was no better time than Harlan’s book release party, which was being celebrated out in California, at the Thrombey Vineyard.

In your years of relationship, you’d become no stranger to luxury, and the finer things in life, but arriving at the Vineyard put you in awe at just how affluent these people were. Perhaps that’s what happens when you’re one of the great writers of your time, and your offspring go off to become equally “self-made” successes.

You were a bit tired from the three hour difference between Boston and Sonoma Valley, and as soon as you hopped out of the car at the vineyard, you could only think of getting to your room, out of your baggy travel clothes, and to sleep as soon as possible. 

Trailing behind Ransom, you looked around at the vast expanse of crop-filled land around you in astonishment while you walked up the cement path to the mansion, not really noticing the petite woman with curled blonde hair, and an oversized straw hat approaching you. 

“Oh gosh, you must be Y/N!” she said gleefully. “I’m Joni. I’ve seen you all over Ranny’s Insta,” she paused and looked you up and down. “Well, you do look a little different there,” she chuckled.

“That’s great, Joni. Maybe you can Tweet about how exhilarating and life changing this experience has been for you to all your little pyramid scheme friends.”

“You’re always so rude, Hugh,” she sneered.

“I forgot about your chronic victimhood. Goodbye, Joan,” he rolled his eyes, and practically tugged you inside the massive building in front of you, before dragging you up the stairs. You were honestly in a little bit of shock at seeing how nasty Ransom got from just a small interaction.

You set your Louis Vuitton Keepal, and aluminum suitcase down on the granite floor of the bedroom, before flopping down, and spreading your limbs out on the massive memory foam bed that sat in the center of the room, “What was that, Ran?” you questioned as he sprawled out next to you.

“The reason why I didn’t want you to meet them. They’re like sharks, looking for anything that even resembles blood in the water,” he threw an arm around you and yawned. “We can talk about this in the morning, though. Right now, I think that both of us need a shower.”

“Speak for yourself, you stink bug.”

“But what if I get lonely in there?” 

“Fine,” you huffed, moving his arm off of you, and heading off to the en-suite. 

That night, as you stared at the blank wall in a vain attempt to quiet your mind enough to fall asleep, you questioned if coming to meet Ransom’s family was more of a mistake than you initially anticipated.

The next morning felt a bit frantic. You and Ransom woke up a few hours before everyone else, as they’d been in California for a few days now and had adjusted to the time difference, while you two had not. An in-house chef made you two a gourmet buffet of a meal while housekeepers laid out your clothes back in your room, and you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of the sudden interferences in your life. Though it was nice to not have to do all of the work, you weren’t sure how you felt about other people doing it for you. 

The majority of your day felt similar to that morning. You quickly realized that Ransom’s fortune was just a small portion of the Thrombey estate, and that his family were essentially a bunch of monsters with money. Throughout the day of horse riding, wine tasting, and wine painting workshops, you couldn’t help but notice how they turned their noses up at you, treating you, and the staff working at the vineyard, like some sort of outsider. 

Your alienation only became more apparent during Harlan’s celebratory dinner, when insults and sneers were tossed at both you and Ransom for being together. 

“Are you trying to get revenge on us, or something?” Richard asked at one point, gesturing to you, and catching you completely off guard, 

“Why would you say something like that?” Ransom asked, trying not to let his offence show as his jaw clenched.

“It’s just not like you to want to settle down, especially with someone like… her,” he spoke about you like you weren’t sitting right there.

“No, I agree,” Walt added. “For once in our lives I agree with you,” he laughed aloud, and a few other folks at the table laughed with him. “Can you believe that after all these years, we’re bonding over Ransom’s little girlfriend?” 

You weren’t even sure how to react, so you laughed awkwardly along with them, and stared blankly at the vast expanse of grape trees behind the row of Thrombey and their friends. What you would give to sprint out into that, and never come back. 

Ransom looked to you in your obvious discomfort, and grabbed your knee, offering it a little reassuring squeeze before he interrupted them. 

“You know what? All of you dickheads can eat shit. Y/N is really the only person who matters to me at this point, and you pricks need to respect that. Hell, you need to respect her.” 

“Look at little Ranny, getting all soft,” Walt chided. 

He ignored the comment and continued on, “And If I don’t start hearing apologies soon, every single one of your wedding invites have a one way ticket to the shredder.”

A silence fell over the table. You were a bit surprised too, since your invites had already gone out, and Harlan was the only Thrombey to receive one.

“...You’re getting married?” Meg asked, breaking the silence. “Why wouldn’t you tell us?” 

“Why do you think?” you muttered, pushing around a few things on your plate before standing up, and pushing your chair away. “Excuse me.”

You knew that by leaving, you were only opening yourself up for more criticism, but you genuinely weren’t sure that you’d be able to take one more second of hostility. You pushed your chair back in, before heading off the patio, into the gigantic home, and up to the room that you’d claimed.

You rolled on top of the bed, and screamed into a feather filled pillow. It wasn’t too long after when tears stung your eyes as you came to the conclusion that these monsters were just a few months away from becoming your in-laws.

You thought you’d heard the most of it after the table, yet a prompt knocking at your door proved otherwise. Letting herself in, you turned to face Ransom’s mother herself, and you just knew that you were in for it.

“Listen, you whore,” Linda began in a sharp, yet quiet tone, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do with my son. Isolate him from us. Try to ‘change him’ like I know you think you’re doing. But just know that at the end of the day, he’ll always pick us. You’ll always be the second choice, especially when Ransom realizes that you barely have a dime to your name, and his bank account starts to runs dry,” she approached you, and pointed an accusatory finger towards you. “You’ll never be anything but a disgusting, sloppy little gold digger. You may be his toy of the week, but at the end of the day, you’re just an afterthought. I suggest that you get out of his life sooner than later. I’m sure Ransom wouldn’t mind, considering we already have your replacement with one foot in the door,” she gestured over to the window facing the back patio, where Ransom was chatting with a brunette woman that appeared to be quite a few years younger than himself.

“You’re cute, Y/N. Really! It’s cute that you’re thinking right now that he would never leave you, cheat on you with some new, younger, hotter piece of ass. Just know that you don’t know Ransom as well as you really think you do. I can promise you, it’ll be much easier to break off an engagement than it’ll be to get a divorce. Especially with that prenup he’s considering dropping on your desk any day.” she tutted as if she cared. “Well, sweetheart, it was great meeting you. I’m glad that these were our first and last words together,” she gave your back a pat before leaving the room, and you looked out the window in shock. 

Shaking as you dig into the pocket of your sundress, you sent Ransom a simple ‘help’ message, before setting your phone aside and trying to pack your belongings in as quick of a manner as possible.

When Ransom opened the door, a steady stream of tears and mascara was staining your face, while you urgently threw things into your suitcase.

“Goose, what happened?” he gasped, hurrying over to your kneeling form, and setting a hand on your shoulder. 

“Why,” you sniffled. “Why would you let her come up here and say all that shit to me!” you croaked, swatting his hand away from you. 

“What?” he watched as you pressed down on the overfilled suitcase and frantically attempted to zip it, to no avail. “Linda said she was gonna come apologize?”

“Telling me that I’ll never be enough for you is just a perfect apology,” you muttered, “I need to go home.”

“God,” he grumbled to himself, “This is exactly why I waited so long for them to meet you. Okay, we can go home then. I’ll buy us tickets right now.”

“This is on you too, Ransom. You didn’t tell them about us, like, at all. You had so much time! You couldn’t give Linda a call and say ‘hey I’ve been seeing this girl’ or even tell Harlan to deliver the message for you?” you hiccuped, but continued. “All of this could’ve been avoided if they had four years to adjust to our relationship. Maybe then they wouldn’t call me a whore and a gold digger every other sentence.”

“I was just trying to protect you from them,” he frowned.

You finally managed to zip up the suitcase, and stood up along with it, “well, you clearly did a great job of that.” 

You dusted off the skirt of your dress, and grabbed your phone. “I’ll let you know when our car gets here,” you huffed before walking into the en-suite and closing the door behind you, just to have a moment for yourself (and make yourself look a bit more put together before you leave.)

A tense car ride, and awkward flight later, you marched straight into the guest bedroom, and cocooned yourself under a copious amount of blankets. You felt like you stayed there for years, only getting out of bed to shower and use the restroom, and living off of the crustless sandwiches and jarred spaghetti your fiancé brought to your door. 

You slept most of the time, and in the moments you weren’t sleeping, you were dwelling on every vicious word thrown at you at the vineyard. Every day, you listened to Ransom apologize through the door, yet every day, you questioned if going through with the wedding was truly the wisest idea. 

A few days into your stay in the guest bedroom, you finally allowed Ransom to stay in the room for more than just dropping off food. He sat down next to you in bed, and cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb softly back and forth against the skin. 

“I don’t know how I can make things right for you,” he said softly. “I really did set you up, and I didn’t even mean to. I should’ve made better decisions, but I can’t change four years ago. But I can keep those heinous people away from you. They’ll never have the chance to do, or say anything like that to you again, okay?” his thumb caught on a tear, which he promptly wiped away. “Just… please don’t leave me. The bed feels too empty without you, and it’s just been a few days. I can’t imagine feeling that emptiness for the rest of my life.”

You whimpered and sat up, abruptly embracing the broad man. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let your idiot family make me question the validity of our relationship,” you muttered into his shirt. 

“I promise you you’ll never have to worry about them again. They had their opportunity to make things right, and they missed it.”

-----

Things were more or less smooth sailing after that fiasco. You found your perfect venue, decided on your ideal Honeymoon spot, and finished your seating arrangements with time to spare, and the next thing you knew your wedding day was around the corner. 

It all seemed to happen so fast, one second you were being walked down the aisle, the next, exchanging vows and rings as aisles of your friends and family members cheered for you, Y/N Drysdale.

Your reception also seemed to slip right through your fingers, your first dance, toasts and cake cutting finding itself over almost as soon as it started. You were grateful that you hired a wedding videographer, as the day was so overwhelming, you weren’t quite sure how much of it you’d remember. 

As you drove off to the airport, Ransom set his hand upon your knee one more time. A warm, fuzzy feeling formed in your chest at the all too familiar gesture. You turned your head from the window to your husband, who was grinning back at you, and couldn’t help but to think of how perfect your wedding ended up, though it felt like it sped by quickly. More than anything, you were grateful that you didn’t give up on Ransom despite his interesting family. 

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Not the future you want.

summary: You don’t want kids and that’s a deal breaker for Harry, until it isn’t.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: angst, happy ending tho.

a/n: long time no see!! I missed writing for y’all SO much but lately i’ve been so busy, here’s a little something i wrote after finishing all my homework, please tell me what you think!

You can find the rest of my masterlist here.

///

Y/n didn't know how they got here.

Not even ten minutes ago they were wrapped around the covers of Harry's bed after making love, both still naked and sweaty from the previous activities. Harry was showering her with kisses all over her face, paying special attention to her nose and lips. The silence that covered them was comfortable, warm.

Right now all she felt was cold, iced silence filling the room as Harry stared at her with startled eyes. Suddenly, the once safe space they had to feel comfortable being naked in front of the other, was long gone and replaced with an awkwardness in the air. Y/n pulled the covers up to her chest, sitting down on the bed as she watched Harry do the same.

"What did you say?" He said. Although he heard it the first time she said it, he wished with all his being there was some kind of misunderstanding and he got it all wrong.

"Are you upset?" She asked cautiously. "Because you sound upset."

"No, I'm... Fuck, Y/n, I'm not upset." He passed a hand through his face. "Excuse me for being a little offended you don't want kids with me."

"I don't want kids with anyone, Harry." She said, growing upset. "Don't take it personally." Y/n started to look for her clothes that currently were laying on the floor, knowing what was going to come.

"But... baby, why? wouldn't it be nice to have mini us running around?" He sounded out of breath like someone just kicked him right in the stomach. He figured he could at least try to convince her otherwise. "Imagine how cute our babies will look. They'd have your adorable nose, maybe my eyes..."

"H, I'm sorry... kids have never been in my plans, it isn't something that I want." She said slowly, not knowing how Harry will take it.

"Wouldn't you willing to at least try?"

Sighing, she shook her head. "I don't want to do that to my body. I've worked so hard to look the way I do and, honestly? Pregnancy takes a toll on you both mentally, and physically and I don't want that." Y/n got out of the bed dragging the covers with her as she grabbed her clothes and started to get dressed.

At that moment Harry didn't know that, what came out of his mouth next, would either save his relationship or end it for good. "That's so... shallow." He practically spat.

"Yeah? Try carrying a human being inside of you for nine months!"

"If I could I'd do it since you're being this selfish!"

"Am I being selfish?! Listen to yourself! I don't owe you any explanation regardless of what I want and don't want to do with my body!" She finished putting her clothes on, silently thanking herself for wearing a dress and make it easier to get dressed in between all this mess. "I am not a baby machine, Harry. I don't exist just to get pregnant and be a fucking mother. If you want a baby so badly, then find someone who does as well!"

"But I love you!" He said, not realizing he was being childish.

"Then we can get a pet! It's the same responsibility."

"I can't believe you just compared a human being to a pet, Y/N! Don't be so stupid!" He threw his hands in the air.

"I honestly don't know what you want me to tell you." Y/n crossed her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry that you feel that way but I'm not changing my mind. I understand if..."

"I need time to... think."

"H..." She tried taking a step closer to him, but he backed off.

"Leave, please."

She didn't know if that was going to be the end of their relationship, and she hoped it wasn't. However, guessing by the look on Harry's face, this was it.

//

Harry's been miserable. He thought he'd only feel like these the first months after breaking up with Y/n but as the fifth month rolled in, he realized there was no way he'd ever get her out of his head... and out of his heart.

Even though he stopped crying in the shower in month three, he was still unable to go to the same places he used to go with her, his heart hurting too much for all the memories that hit him right in the face as he walks into the coffee shop they used to go to every Friday, or the place on the park they used to sit on after buying ice cream from the lovely old man who always gave Y/n a flower. He was slowly losing his mind and everyone around him could tell exactly what was happening. He missed Y/n.

The problem was, he took way too long to realize he made a mistake, probably the most tremendous one of his entire life. He couldn't stop thinking that, if he answered those calls he declined from her, the love of his life would most likely be wrapped around a blanket in his living room, watching the notebook for the millionth time as they cuddled closer and closer to each other. She always let Harry chose the movie, despite she always knew what his choice would be and although she used to get bored at the movie, after a few times watching it with Harry, she grew to like it.

That was who she is. She's always pleasing everyone else, often growing upset when she can get the people around her what they wanted. And that included Harry. She used to put him and whatever he wanted first, always. If Harry wanted to go out, they'd go out. If he wanted to stay in, they'd stay in. And deep down, Harry knew that the reason why he lashed out at her he way he did seven months ago, it was because he knew Y/n wouldn't be able to fulfill the one dream he wanted the most. Or at least, the dream he thought he wanted the most because when his anger went down and he was able to see clearly, he realized there wasn't anything in this world he wanted more than to be with her, and that if he ever went and married another woman just to be a father, that baby wouldn't be half the love of his life, therefore nothing would be perfect and his life wouldn't be as happy as he was when he was with Y/n.

"You have to get out of bed, H." Gemma said as she opened the curtains of the bedroom, making him let out a groan. "Although you're an asshole, it hurts me to see you like this."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Gem." His words came out muffled as his face was still pressed to the pillow. The one from the side Y/N used to sleep on.

"That wasn't a pep talk, knobhead." She sat at the edge of the bed. "I'm just tired of seeing you like this, Har. You fucked up, stop mopping around and own your mistake."

"She hates me."

"She has every reason to," Harry gave her a dirty look. "but, I don't think she does. You know her, she loved you more than anything."

"Yeah, she really did." Harry's eyes filled with a new wave of tears and he choked a sob. "I was so wrong, Gem. I can't believe I yelled at her the way I did." He cried. "I had the love of my life and I made her leave." Now he sobbed.

His sister sighed. Although it was very clear who's fault was, she couldn't help but feel bad for his baby brother. Everyone could see how happy they made each other, always saying they were it for the other. And they were true. That was, of course, until Harry fucked up.

"I'm telling you this because I love you," She started. "You have to move on. It's been five months, H. You made it very clear you both wanted different things, and that's okay. But you have to accept that."

"I don't mean it anymore!"

"It doesn't matter. You meant it back then, and you're not gonna change anything staying in bed and crying all day."

"You're right." He suddenly sat up, pulling the cover off of him. "I should go see her."

"No, that's not-"

"You're a genius, Gem." Harry cupped her face and gave her an obnoxious kiss on the cheek.

"Ew!"

"I will get her back!" He jumped out of the bed and trotted to his walk-in closet, stripping out of his pajamas and into whatever pants and shirt he found. "I'll apologize and she will understand, right?"

"Baby brother, I think you're being a little too optimistic." Gemma stood up and walked towards him. "Don't be stupid, an 'I'm sorry' will not fix anything. Also, you don't even know where to find her, or how is she... or who she's with." Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "What? You have to consider all the options."

"I check her Instagram every day, she's not dating anyone."

"She can hide posts and stories from you, dumbass." She crossed her arms. "And every day? Creep."

Harry sticks his tongue out at her. "I also check her friend's profiles, believe me, she's single. And I'm gonna win her back."

"Harry," Gemma started, but he was already out of the run and running down the stairs. "Wait! Where are you going?"

"To her house!" He yelled back from the bottom of the stairs, grabbing his keys.

"Hang on, I'll take you!"

"What, really?" He stopped his tracks, turning around to face his sister.

"If you suffer from humiliation, I have to videotape it." She smirked, grabbing her purse and opening the front door.

"You're horrible."

"Chop, chop! Let's go, Romeo."

//

"I..." Hiccup. "I hate..." Hiccup. "... Men." Hiccup. "But I love you, Nolan."

"Alright, It's three in the afternoon, Y/n/n. Cut the tequila."

"What?!" She gasped. "It's never too early for tequila." She raised her finger at her best friend.

"C'mon, darling. Let's get you into the shower. Hannah should be here soon too."

"I love you guys." She said as Nolan practically carried her up the stairs and to her bedroom. "And I love Harry."

He sighed, finally entering the room, sitting Y/n on her bed where he immediately collapsed. "I know you do, sweetheart. Now, I want you in the bathroom."

She groaned, extending her hands at him. Nolan rolled his eyes but grabbed her hands to pull from her. He didn't know how she managed to get this drunk at three o'clock, but then again after five months of pretending to be okay, a breakdown was meant to happen sooner or later.

"You're the bestest friend ever."

"Mhm, repeat that when you're sober." Closing the door behind him, he helped her take her clothes off.

"Is Marcus mad at me because you left him to come here?" She asked, pouting. Marcus was Nolan's boyfriend.

"Of course not, don't be silly. He wants to take you out tonight though."

"Yes! Thousand times yes. Count. Me. In."

"What you want is your head on the toilet all night, don't you?" Y/N stepped into the shower but let out a squeal when she felt the cold water hit her skin.

"Let me out, let me out."

"Nope, we need to sober you up so you stay there." He leaned on the wall, waiting for her with a towel in his hands.

After a quick shower, Nolan wrapped her in the fluffy towel and left the room to go downstairs, he figured Y/n could handle herself for a bit while he waited for Hannah to arrive with food. He hasn't seen her this drunk since the day she and Harry broke up, so she still had a lot to let out.

There was a knock on the door and Nolan hurried to open it, thinking Hannah was finally here. To his surprise, instead of their blonde friend being there with loads of food for them to eat, Harry Styles was waiting on the other side of the door, holding the biggest bouquet of pink roses he's ever seen before.

"No, handsome. Go back to where you came from."

"C'mon, Nolan. Is she home?"

"Nope." Nolan crossed his arms, trying to look more intimidating. "She's out there, living her best life."

"Then why are you here?"

The blonde man opened his mouth then closed it again. "None of your business. Look, Harry, let it go. Do you seriously think showing up here five months after with a huge bouquet of flowers will magically fix everything?"

"I need to talk to Y/n, please. I-I messed up, okay? I was horrible to her and I know it, but I want to make it right."

He sighed. "Right now is not a good time, trust me." Harry frowned. "Do you want my advice? Move on."

With that, he closed the door on his face and returned to the living room. He was not going to allow his best friend to get her heart broken all over again over a pair of pretty eyes.

//

"When you said we'd be going out, I thought you meant to get fucked up, not to sing karaoke." Y/N said as she took a long sip of her drink, resting her cheek on her palm.

"Who says we can't do both here? Besides, I'll be fun." Marcus said.

"I don't sing, my loves. I came for the alcohol." Hannah finished her drink and stood up to walk to the bar to get another one.

"You're alcoholics, both of you."

"I call it, drown in your own sorrow."

"Cheers for that."

After a few rounds, Nolan was up serenading Marcus, completely out of key but no one cared since they were all already a little bit tipsy. Y/N was having a great time with her friends, completely forgetting the reason why she got drunk at three in the afternoon. No one knew what she did to not be hungover right now, but nonetheless, they were glad she was there having fun too.

That was until Nolan noticed Harry walk into the bar.

"Pst, Han." He whispered. "Wait ten seconds then turn around."

She did what he said. "Oh, so he did come."

"Wait, what?!" he whispered-yelled.

"I told him we'd be here." She shrugged.

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because they need to talk." Nolan rolled his eyes. "Cut the crap, you know I'm right. Y/n deserves an apology and Harry has one, easy peasy."

"You forgot the part where he broke her heart."

"Hey, I'm not defending him. However, they're crazy for each other and unless they talk things out, we'll have our best friend become an alcoholic."

"What are you two gossiping about?" Y/n said, returning to the table after going to the bathroom.

"About how I need another drink!" Hannah exclaimed.

"Ugh, me too. I'll go this time." She got up again.

"Wait!" Nolan grabbed her hand but Hannah kicked him under the table, making him groan.

"Are you okay?"

"Uh, yes. Can you bring me one too?"

"I got you, babes."

She walked to the bar while humming the song someone was singing up there. "Oop." Y/n tripped over her own feet but before she could fell face down on the floor, someone wrapped a hand around her forearm. "Oh, thank you..." She looked up to see the stranger who saved her and her breath hitched when she saw him. "Harry."

"Hey, love."

"What... how-? Wait, don't call me love!" She crossed her arms, annoyed.

"Y/n, wait, please. We need to talk."

"Oh, no, no. We-" She signaled the space between them. "Have nothing to talk about."

"Listen to me, please. I know you don't have to, and I know that I was horrible and behaved like a proper dick five months ago, but I want to apologize to you, I'm begging you."

She sighed. She looked into his eyes and saw a flash of hurt and regret, his hair also looked a mess and he looked like he hasn't shaved in a while. Maybe he's been feeling as bad as her. Deep down, she hoped he has.

"Five minutes, then I'm gone."

Harry wasted no time and pulled her towards the bathrooms, entering the ladies one and double-checking it was empty before locking the door. "First of all, you have no idea how much I've missed you." She opened her mouth, probably to throw a sarcastic comment but he interrupted her. "Let me finish, please. Last time I saw you... I wasn't nice, at all. I lashed out at you for no reason, honestly. You were right, I've got no say in whatever you want to do with your body. I was a brat and I was mad at... honestly, I don't know what I was mad about. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize this, but I don't need anyone else if I have you, Y/n. You're the love of my life and-" He grabbed her hands. "I love you with my whole heart. If kids isn't something you want, then we don't need it, baby."

"Harry, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Excuse me?"

"You love kids! I know you've always wanted to be a father, and you'll be a great one, one day. You deserve to have the future you've always dreamt of having." She offered him a tiny smile. "I'm not the future that you want, H."

"Y/n, listen to me, you're my dream. You, no one else."

"If we stayed together, one day you're gonna wake up and realize you missed your opportunity of having a family of your own and you're gonna hate me forever."

"Of course not." He said, offended. "How could you say that? I could never, never hate you. I'd hate my life if you weren't in it."

"We want different things. And despite me knowing that, I still walked into this relationship because I was selfish. Selfish because I thought you... you would change your mind."

"You're the most selfless person I've ever known, my love. You're not selfish, I'm an asshole. I didn't listen to you because I always want everything to be my way. But we're a team, we got each other. We don't need anything else."

At this point, Harry was ready to drop on his knees and beg for forgiveness. He was trying so hard to not start sobbing right there, but Y/n looked like she's made up her mind and he felt like his heart was breaking more and more as the minutes passed. He didn't know what else to say to convince her to be with him, and that terrified him.

"I don't know..."

"Please, give me one more chance. Please, baby."

Y/n was really trying to think this through. On one hand, she missed him more than anything, and she's been miserable these past months without her, no matter how much she tried to put on a happy face for everyone around her. On the other hand, she felt like she needed to let Harry go so he could be happy with someone else, someone who shared the same dreams and plans as him. Her blood boiled at the last part, feeling jealous of even thinking about Harry, his Harry, being with someone else.

She had him right in front of her on a silver plate, ready to rebuild their relationship because he loved her too much to let her go.

"I really missed you." She finally collapsed into his arms, holding him tightly. "And I'm so scared of losing you."

"You're not gonna lose me. Not now, not ever. You're stuck with me, okay?" He cupped her cheeks, looking at her straight in the eye. Her eyes were filled with tears but a little smile was forming on her face. "My pretty baby. I love you so so much and I'm so excited to spend my life with you."

"I love you too, I can't wait to be with you forever."

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 49

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You begin your new normal, and come up with a new plan. Bucky likes it decidedly less than the last one.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Mild explicit content, sexual tension, angst, Bucky being Bucky

AO3

Knowing that Bucky was fine with your extreme changes was comforting, but you weren’t willing to live with it. Not until you tried everything you could. After all, there was your mother to think about, and you weren’t sure she could survive the shock of finding out her daughter was a wizard/pseudo-demon.

After you asked Bucky to contact Strange, you both arrived via portal and went into his office. Before Bucky could get a word in edgewise, you shoved your notepad against Strange’s chest, glaring at him until he read everything you’d written down.

Strange pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“First off,” he muttered, “there’s no need to threaten to tear me limb from limb if I put Sergeant Barnes back into the cryo-chamber. The chamber is beyond repair, and there is no more use for it, anyway. And while I appreciate your honesty in regards to… this latest feeding… as long as you’re not in an enslaved bond, I’m willing to change the terms of the Ancient One’s agreement. So, moving forward, please do not inform me of what the two of you do in privacy.”

Bucky choked from somewhere behind you; in hindsight, you probably should have warned him what you were going to tell Strange.

“And secondly, I will continue your education myself. If,” Strange added with a raised finger, “you agree to remain in the Sanctum for the time being. You are going to be exposing yourself to magical energies, and I want to view the effects they have on your current state firsthand. I will not bend on this point.”

Your tail lashed like a whip, and you were very tempted to reach back and grab it. Now you understood how Bucky must feel when his tail misbehaved.

You also resisted the urge to look back at Bucky with big puppy-eyes in hopes he would convince Strange to let him stay as well. But you didn’t. You needed to prove that you could do this without having your hand held. What happened to you in the demon realm was traumatic, you wouldn’t deny that, but you couldn’t let Bucky coddle you forever, either.

You gave a firm nod while looking Strange in the eye. There was another reason you wanted to be taught to harness whatever was inside you. A reason Strange didn’t need to know. A reason that had everything to do with Helmut Zemo.

The next month you spent in near isolation, only seeing Strange for lessons and glimpsing other sorcerers when you went to the library. When you weren’t in your lessons, that’s where you spent most of your time. Suffice it to say, you’d been fired after not calling in for a full week (you couldn’t really explain that you’d been kidnapped to Siberia), but that worked fine for you. The Sanctum and lessons were quickly becoming your life, and even Bucky didn’t see you as often as he probably liked.

You certainly missed him. Missed his scent and his touch and even just his comforting presence. But you couldn’t let yourself be distracted, not for a single night and not even for Bucky. You were doing this for him and for you.

Unlike before, when you couldn’t even create a spark, under Strange’s guidance you could now create ropes of fire and bursts of light from your hands. You couldn’t create a portal, not since the disastrous moment you accidentally sliced a demon in half, but Strange only patted you on the shoulder and said, “Perhaps it best we leave portals for the more advanced lessons.”

But one area you were excelling at was sensing and harnessing energies. Every night before bed, you turned that focus inward, imagining the demonic energy inside you being expelled back to the realm it came from. According to the laws of magical equilibrium, the alien energy would want to return to its natural state, which apparently was a sort of UV ray that came from the sun of that realm.

You didn’t really understand it when Strange explained it to you—hell, you didn’t have a grasp of most things he said—but you could get the gist of it. And lucky for you, you seemed to have a natural talent for magic now that you were “unblocked,” as he called it.

So when you woke up one morning and most of your demonic features had vanished, you were pleased but not too surprised. You’d thrown yourself into magical studies more than you’d done even in college, and it was showing. If only your mom could see you now.

Or… perhaps not. There were some parts of you that hadn’t changed, and you glared at your horns and tail with a frown. You’d have to start cutting holes in your pants from now on, not to mention learn how to guise yourself in public. A small price to pay for being able to speak again. Demonic Cats: The Musical had taken a curtain call.

Still, you didn’t complain, but nor did you lighten up on your studies. You were searching for something very, very specific in those dusty shelves of the archives, and when you couldn’t find it, you knew only one place to seek your answers.

When it was mid-March and the show outside had melted, most of the sorcerers were either on the rooftop or away from the Sanctum. It was the only chance you’d get, and now that you had a feel for sensing magic, you were confident you could find the vault a second time.

Without a hobgoblin to guide your way, it took you much longer to find the familiar stone staircase spiraling into the depths of the earth. You followed it with more confidence and less fear than the first time even as your heart thudded in your chest. Strange hadn’t told you not to come down here, and technically you were part of the Mystic Arts, so you had every right to explore your new home.

At least, that’s what you told yourself, standing in front of the massive door that guarded the vault. And to your eternal surprise, when you wrapped your hands around the handle and pulled, it opened with a loud groan.

Exhaling, you squeezed through the opening and came to an abrupt stop on the other side, forgetting to take a breath as you stared with wide eyes.

The room was empty.

All of it, gone. The creepy statues and mounted heads. The cabinets full of demonic body parts. You stepped into the middle of the room to confirm what your eyes were telling you. Only the lectern remained, empty and dusty as if the book that used your blood for ink had never been there.

Bracing your hands on your hips, you swore under your breath. Now how the hell were you supposed to—

“I told Strange what you found the last time you were down here.”

You whirled around, your tail sticking straight out and fluffing up to twice its normal thickness.

Bucky stared at you, his tone just as devoid of humor as his sharp eyes.

“So, he had everything moved just in case you went looking for it again.” He strode forward, his boots tapping softly on the stone floor, his guise retained as it usually was when he visited the Sanctum.

The slow, predatory walk had you soon backed away. You weren’t afraid, you were just… slightly intimidated.

“Why are you down here?” Bucky continued to walk toward you.

“I—“ Your voice cracked, something it still did after so long of disuse. “I was… doing research.”

“Yeah?” His voice was flat. “What could you possibly need to know that would require the Book of the Dead?”

Your back hit the edge of the lectern and your stomach fluttered when he didn’t stop in his approach.

“You seem to be doing just fine with Strange’s lessons,” Bucky said, eyes roving over your body, leaving both heat and a chill in its wake. “You managed to change back.”

“Mostly.” You cleared your throat so you wouldn’t sound like a frightened mouse. “Bucky, I… I was going to tell you. I’ve just, been busy.”

“Busy, huh?”

He stepped closer, only a few feet away when he tilted his head.

“If Strange is being so thorough with his lessons, then why hasn’t he taught you how to sense when something is following you?”

With Bucky’s last few steps, his guise melted away, wings half-flaring over his back as his eyes darkened. He loomed over you, bending down to growl in your ear.

“The next demon stalking you might not be so friendly.”

You closed your eyes, fighting yourself, but your shallow breathing and the goosebumps along your skin gave you away. There was definitely something wrong with you. Normal people did not get so hot and bothered from the idea of being hunted down by a demon, even if said demon was your kind-of-boyfriend.

“I assure you, I can take care of myself just fine.” You almost said it without a hitch in your breath, too.

Bucky pulled back, brows raised.

“Want me to show you?” you pressed.

He studied your face for a moment, and then gave a shrug and said, “Sure.”

Your lips twitching was all the warning he got before there was a conjured, fiery rope in your hand, whipping him across the chest and throwing him back several feet. Only his flaring wings kept him upright as he skidded across the floor.

There was a flash of approval, and oh God, excitement in his eyes as he licked his lips. You didn’t know if he was trying to distract you, or if he genuinely wanted to sink his teeth into you.

You wanted to find the answer and see how far you could push him. It was about time you put your skills to use on a real demon, anyway.

When his wings flared and his tail danced in delight behind him, you prepared yourself for Bucky’s attack—and it was good that you did. He crossed the distance between you in a blur, and you barely had time to move your hand in a circle in front of your chest.

An orange, concentric circle formed out of thin air, and it vibrated when Bucky’s human fist collided with it. He was still holding back, but that hit would have probably knocked you out cold.

Okay, you thought, watching him with a tilt of your head. You think you can pull your punches with me?

You shoved your palm against the makeshift shield, and the lines unfolded and wrapped around Bucky’s legs and chest, pulling his limbs together in a series of fiery ropes, and he shouted in surprise as he tumbled to the ground. His wings were useless, caught in the same trap against his back, and you stood over him in triumph.

“Neat little trick you’ve got there,” Bucky commented casually as he tried to wriggle out of his bindings. “Won’t hold me forever.”

“I know.” You smiled, and Bucky gave you his strongest side-eye. Your shit-eating grin only increased in size. “Don’t need it to hold you forever.”

You stood over him, a foot to either side, and you sat on his stomach, straddling him and probably looking like the cat that ate the canary. The tail flickering behind you didn’t help.

Bucky predictably went still, a mixture of interest and exasperation on his face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” You leaned down and half-laid on top of him, tucking your head into his shoulder. “Just enjoying this strapping young demon I’ve captured.”

“Young?”

“…strapping, then.”

Bucky snorted, and you dug your face deeper into his neck, reveling in his rich, calming smell. You licked him, teasing at first, but then with genuine interest.

“You gonna, uh… let me up?” He shifted under you, which was exactly the wrong thing to do, because now the growing bulge in his jeans was pressed right between your legs.

“Mmmm-no. You said you can get loose, I want to see it.”

But it wasn’t the ropes you were paying attention to when you sucked on his neck. Bucky groaned low in his throat. Both of you had forgotten about the ropes, and Bucky seemed oddly comfortable with them.

An option you might have to explore another time.

“You really want to test these bindings out, huh?” he growled, flexing his muscles as he suddenly strained against them. You nearly purred, appreciating the view of his armored bicep.

“Well, I gotta have something to show for all this training.” You went quiet, then, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “I miss you. I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted.”

“And I miss you, but I’m not going to give you a hard time for this. Not after what you’ve been through.” He turned his head just enough to press his lips to your temple. “Monster misses you too, you know.”

You lifted up, getting a good look at him.

“What? He… he came back?”

“He did. Hours after you moved back into the Sanctum.”

You didn’t know what to say. Monster had been missing ever since you… ever since Zemo shot you. Apparently, he’d been at the Sanctum when you went missing and had been an absolute nightmare to the sorcerers.

And then when the rescue mission failed to bring you back…

“How…” You swallowed. “How is he?”

To your surprise, Bucky rolled his eyes.

“A pain in my ass. He thinks he’s a lapdog. Every time I sit down, he jumps on me, kneading me with his claws like I’m mama cat.”

“Sounds like I’m being replaced,” you said, smiling as you leaned your head on his shoulder again.

“Nah. More like he thinks sucking up to me is gonna get you back sooner. Which… I’m all for that.” He brushed his lips against your hair, but your smile faded at his next words. “You will be coming home eventually… right? Because that place, my place, it’s yours too.”

You sat up again, avoiding his eye. As much as you wanted to take him up on that offer, and you did, so badly…

“Sweetheart?”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

Bucky’s voice was so soft it hurt when he said, “Can I ask why?”

Releasing a breath and closing your eyes, you knew you had to tell him. Otherwise he would just blame himself, and Bucky’s next question confirmed it.

“Is it because of… of Zemo?” He said the name like it was vile poison in his mouth.

“Yes. But not in the way you think,” you added when he blinked up at you in surprise. “It’s not me I’m worried about, Bucky.”

His eyes narrowed, scanning your face once before he looked around the room, as if just remembering where you were.

“Why did you come down here?”

You worried your lip, and Bucky watched the movement with growing suspicious. You didn’t want to tell him, not because you enjoyed keeping secrets—in fact, you had been enjoying the healthy communication between you lately—but Bucky really, really wasn’t going to like it.

“I came down here because I need to answer a question. A question that Zemo himself shed some light on.”

You focused on Bucky’s jacket zipper, fidgeting with it rather than meeting his eye.

“And… what question would that be?”

You took a deep breath. Fuck, here it goes.

“How do you prevent a free demon from being enslaved again?”

Bucky’s brows dipped.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “So you… what, wanted to be trained in magic so you could protect me? That’s… I wouldn’t ask you to do that, but I appreciate the thought. Still not sure why that involves the Necronomicon.”

“There’s more,” you said with a wince at Bucky’s scowl. “It’s not just that, though getting better at magic is part of it.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Probably not. No.”

Bucky shifted under you like he was getting more comfortable, but his tone was extremely put-out.

“Let’s hear it, then. How do you prevent a freed demon from being enslaved again?”

“Well, you see…” You fidgeted again. Bucky may have been the one still tied in fire ropes, but you got the sense you were the one being dangled over a pit. “I already know the answer. I’m not sure how to… execute it.”

Bucky frowned.

“Execute what? Sweetheart, you’re starting to talk like a sorcerer, and you know how much I love that.”

You smiled a little, but it quickly faded again.

“All right. I’ll tell you my plan, but please, leave your questions to the end,” you said, trying to keep it lighthearted, but the gears in Bucky’s head were turning at the words my plan. You cleared your throat and continued.

“Now, the thing about free demons is you can’t protect them from being enslaved. Only demons bonded to a master are protected. Zemo said it himself; in fact, it was one of his selling points.”

Bucky scowled but didn’t interrupt you.

“He said if you were bonded to him, he could protect you from any HYDRA shitbags still hanging around. And… unfortunately, he had a point. It’s only a matter of time until someone else stumbles upon an old lab or a journal or whatever, and then they’ll be coming after you. Everyone knows about the Winter Soldier. Even if the world still believes he’s dead, that didn’t stop Zemo.”

Bucky’s scowl had vanished, his expression unreadable as he listened.

“So…” you continued, trying not to sweat. “If you were bonded to someone you trusted, someone who could protect you, that could be one way of doing it—“

“That’s why you’re training so hard?” he asked softly. “You would be willing to put a huge target on your back like that? Having me bonded to you?”

“Well,” you spluttered, face heating. So much for reprimanding Bucky for not keeping his questions until the end. “I wanted to be in the running, at least. I’m not exactly a threat compared to others you could choose from.”

“You mean Steve. I… actually talked to him about it already.” Now it was his turn to look away. “He said he’d be willing to if it’s what I wanted. It’s not what I want, but I still have to consider it.”

Bucky finally looked at you when you neglected to speak, and he rushed to say, “It’s different with a human master, it wouldn’t be like our pact at all. I don’t have to feed on him. It’s more fulfilling if I do feed on my master, but by no means is it necessary. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t leave you to be with Steve, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

It was exactly what you were thinking, and you were so thrown off course that you floundered. Of course, you’d considered that Steve would be a good candidate, but you hadn’t realized Bucky had already had a discussion.

“Are you considering it?” The sudden lump in your throat made it difficult to speak. “Being bonded to him?”

He gave a soft smile, the kind that always held a bit of sadness.

“I was going to talk to you first, ask you for your input before I decided. Just didn’t get a chance until now. I hope you know I wouldn’t make a decision like that without you. Especially considering what happened last time I kept you in the dark.”

Whatever insecurities and jealousy lingered in your heart evaporated, and you put a hand on his chest, wishing you could express exactly how you felt. How much you loved him and didn’t blame him for any of what happened.

But like so many moments, you found words weren’t enough, and you just had to hope your actions communicated what you felt.

“Whatever you want to do, Bucky, I’ll support you.” You squinted at him and tapped him on the chest. “And what happened to me is not your fault. Zemo was watching us for a long time, and he would have found a way to use me against you eventually. I’m just grateful it turned out the way it did. Could have been a lot worse.”

“A lot worse than you dying and going to the demon realm?”

You folded your hands over your chest.

“I could have died and stayed dead.”

Bucky opened his mouth, hung there for a moment, and then closed it again. You waited for him to continue arguing, and instead, he changed the damn subject.

“You said that could be one way of doing it. There’s other ways?”

Hell, and what a subject change, too. For a moment, you really did consider lying, or at least telling him the other option was off the table if Steve was a choice. He was a safer option—that was without a doubt.

But you couldn’t lie to Bucky, or hold back. Not after everything. So you took a deep breath and pushed on.

“While I came up with that answer, I wasn’t satisfied with you being enslaved again, even if it was to me or Steve. So I tried to search for other solutions. In the archives, on the wizard internet, even Wong’s private stash of books.”

“There’s a wizard internet?”

“Bucky, please.”

“Sorry,” he said, not at all sorry. “Keep going.”

“I wanted to find a way for you to be as free as possible, without the danger of enslavement, and then… I had a thought.” You took a deep breath. “I thought… what if there’s a way to make the human-demon relationship equal?”

“…Come again?”

“The demon-human bond is always a power imbalance, right?” you said, excitement rushing your words. “Either the human enslaves the demon, or the demon owns the human. There’s no partnership. No equal exchange. No symbiosis.”

“Symbiosis.”

“It’s a term in biology.”

“Yes, sweetheart, I know what it means. I don’t think biology is going to help us here.”

“No, you’re right,” you muttered. “Which is why I needed a magical solution in order to create a soul-bound that’s equal from both sides.”

The truth finally hit home. Bucky’s eyes widened.

“No.”

“Bucky—“

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“I haven’t even told you the plan yet!”

“Does it involve you being bonded to me?”

You took a second too long to answer.

“Thought so,” he growled. “No fucking way am I ever doing that to you again.”

“You wouldn’t be! I told you, it would be an equal partnership, not—“

You yelped as the bindings shattered and Bucky rose at the same moment. You would have fallen flat on your ass if he hadn’t grabbed you by the arms and pulled you to your feet.

“Listen to me,” he said, face inches away. “You drop this line of thinking right now. You will not go looking into binding magic, and you will stay far away from anything demonic. Do you hear me? Tell me you understand and you won’t keep looking!”

You glared up at him. The full weight of his anger glared back, his wings rustling as his tail lashed back and forth.

“No.”

He bared his teeth at your refusal, a growl escaping from his throat. You didn’t flinch, though your tail betrayed you as the fur puffed out like a startled cat.

“Snarl all you want, it won’t change my mind.”

“You’re talking about experimental magic.” His gaze grew harder as his claws tightened around your arms. “Magic that Strange himself wouldn’t attempt. What makes you think you could survive, let alone succeed?”

Now it was your turn to bare your teeth, though they were blunted and human again. You almost missed the sharp canines.

“I summoned a portal to the demon realm when I was ten years old. I adapted to that same place, became more demon than human just to survive. I died and came back to life because of demonic magic.”

You met his eye, unblinkingly.

“Who else could do this but me?”

Bucky said nothing, his expression unreadable. You released a breath and let your voice soften.

“The Ancient One was adamant on three things. She wanted me to train with the leader of her order. She said you and I were very important to each other. And she told me that I would have to make a choice. A choice that would affect the both of us.”

You turned your hands so they were placed against his forearms. Bucky still hadn’t moved, but there was something like growing horror in his eyes.

“I know this is what she meant. This feels right. Like I’ve finally found my purpose. This is what I’m meant to do.”

“And what is that?” he asked, slowly, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. And there was another shoe. A big shoe. A shoe he was going to hate, but you wouldn’t hide it from him. It was only a matter of time before he found out, anyway.

“Everyone in the Order has their strengths,” you said. “Wong is the archivist and keeper of knowledge. Strange has an innate understanding of time and prophecy. The Ancient One, according to Strange, had a deep connection to the Dark Dimension.”

“And you?”

You swallowed dryly.

“I have… a strong affinity for magic that comes from the demon realm.”

He jerked away, as if contact with your skin burned him. Before you could stop him, Bucky turned and practically fled from the vault, disappearing out the massive door without looking back.

You released a breath as your tail sank to rest on the dusty floor. The words of the Ancient One rang in your ears, and you wished she hadn’t been right. If Bucky had been on your side, you wouldn’t have cared who else disagreed. But maybe that was the point.

It wasn’t supposed to be easy. No test ever was. You just didn’t appreciate that you still had to prove yourself after all this.

Hadn’t dying and going to Hell been enough?

Your heart as heavy as the stones at your feet, you left the empty vault.

Next Chapter

[kyratittyfish]

Soooo. While we're talking about starting to write. How about some basics on your Shepard? Have you played multiple times with different Shepards or do you have a "standard Shep"? Who are they? How are they? Any random thoughts you have about them? ^.^

Alright sooo, I've managed to write almost 3k words about her so far, which I think is a bit too much for a single post, so I'll synthesise and try to be brief.

I'm currently playing with default FemShep, my previous play through focused on default broShep. So I'll focus on FemShep.

Her name is Jane Angela Shepard, although most people only know her by her first and family name. She's a biotic vanguard who's really fond of sniper rifles. She's a Spacer, born on Arcturus station from military parents, and a War Hero. Her family's tradition of serving in the Alliance is what motivated her to enlist after completing her biotic training and turning 18.

She's pretty close to her mother; unfortunately, her dad lost his life during one of his missions. She has a half brother on her dad's side: her military career prevents her from being physically present in his life, although she tries to send him cards and gifts on his birthdays and on major holidays.

Her family’s long history of decorated service in the Alliance military both implicitly and explicitly shaped her and her family’s expectations about her future from an early age. The failure to meet all the unsaid expectations was a constant to her over the years, and despite her multiple stunts at saving the galaxy, some hidden part of her is still afraid of that possibility.

After her biotics manifested, Jane spent most of her teenage years training in special programs, before enlisting in the military as soon as she turned 18: while her peers were having sleepovers, developing crushes and partying together on Saturday night, she was learning to control her biotic powers and harness them to her advantage.

This, combined with seeing her parents' marriage crumble due to their military career, kept her from seeking and achieving anything more than a good friendship with anyone else.

She had a few brief flings, namely with Kaidan during the events of ME1, and with Thane after her resurrection at the hands of Cerberus, but both relationships were abruptly ended: the former by her own death, the latter by Thane's.

When the Reapers hit and Jane was catapulted back into action, the Normandy crew was mostly made up of unfamiliar faces. The only few she knew were James, who she considered almost as little brother, Kaidan, who still wasn’t able to fully trust her… and her loyal pilot Joker. So off to the cockpit she went during the few moments of relative calm, to have someone reassure her through sarcastic comments that yes, all of this was truly happening. Or that at least, if she was really going insane, someone else was having the same disturbing hallucinations. 

Day after day, joke after joke, one brush with death after the other, the two grew closer. Truth be told, some level of mutual interest with each other had always been there, but the two of them had always been too… stubborn? Blind to it? To actually do anything about it.

It took a while for them to recognise the mutual attraction- had it been under different circumstances, they’d probably have never acted upon it but facing the possible end of the world has a way to make you forget your own self imposed restraints and insecurities and, for once, just go for it.

[dwellordream]

“…The common work of American pioneer children has become an essential story of frontier life. Less well known or acknowledged is that gender boundaries were often disregarded in the course of this experience. Daniel worked not only at tasks with his father but also at those normally seen as women’s work. To help his mother, he dyed cloth, carried water from the spring, helped to nurse the younger children, and cooked. His work was indeed diverse as he did what was needed with little complaint—or so he remembered years later when writing his memoir. Then at fifteen, he was separated from all of it—from his physical labor and from his pious parents (his mother’s favorite word was “wicked”). She was hardly indulgent of him, either in the work he was required to do or in the virtues he was expected to display while doing them.

Many boys did female work. Henry Clarke Wright, who became an outspoken educator and a radical abolitionist, spent his childhood helping his stepmother by babysitting, and much more. “He cleaned, he cooked, he washed.” In upstate New York, where his family lived in the early nineteenth century, he also did more masculine work “riding the horses, yoking and driving the oxen, bringing in the cows, harnessing and all the rest of the hard labor of the frontier farmer.” After his farming experience, Wright was left to become an apprentice in April 1814. Lonely, “home-sick” and with a “feeling of wretched- ness,” Wright learned to grow up fast. He also learned his own mind and how later to defend his extremely independent and unpopular views.

The American boys of the early republic grew early into independence. They were neither indulged nor coddled. They were given some say in the objects of their labor and, when possible, free time to play. But the children were also seen as “little citizens”—persons with capacity as well as potential. Some visitors were shocked by the results, but others were impressed. One Englishwoman observed, “You will see a little being that has not seen the sun make one circle of seasons, lay hold on a toy, not to cram it in his mouth and look stupidly at it, but to turn it curiously over, open it if he can, and peep in with a look as wise as that of a raven peeping into a marrow bone. One mark of early observation and comprehension never failed to excite my wonder. Little creatures feed themselves very early, and are trusted with cups of glass and china, which they grasp firmly, and carry about the rooms carefully, and deposit unbroken.”

There is, perhaps, a degree of exaggeration in such observations, finding the precocious engineer within the child not yet a year old. But in light of current findings by cognitive psychologists about the “scientist in the crib,” perhaps it is less a matter of exaggeration than a willingness to see even young children as more fully capable of independent thought and action than most Americans are accustomed to today. Americans at this time assumed that children needed less supervision and direction. This was true for girls as well as boys. By the time she was six years of age, Caroline Stickney (later Creevey), who grew up to be a nature writer, was expected to go to the doctor alone after she had fallen and severely injured her arm. It turned out to be broken.

“Mother was too busy to accompany me and there was nobody else. Besides children were taught to stand upon their own feet in these days.” Caroline’s regular tasks included bringing the cow to pasture in the morning and retrieving her at night, and, like Ulysses Grant, she was able from an early age to roam freely in the woodland that this future botanical enthusiast loved to explore and whose trees she climbed regardless of risk. At ten, she was allowed to ride the family horse; when she asked her father for directions to find a certain path, he made clear to her that she could find her own way.

Anna Howard Shaw had a more extreme experience, as her father sent his young family from Lawrence, Massachusetts, to which the family had migrated from England after Thomas Shaw’s bankruptcy, to the north woods of Michigan. There the children and their mother were left alone to establish her father’s claim to the 360 acres he had acquired, while he remained East to settle his affairs. Shaw’s mother, overwhelmed by grief and disbelief at the raw and trying circumstances, collapsed emotionally and was “practically an invalid.” This left the enterprise entirely to the five children. Barely twenty years old, Shaw’s oldest brother, James, was in charge. Anna was recruited to lay floorboards on the earth and frame windows and doors.

When even James left because he needed an operation that took him back to Massachusetts, the young children were left to fend for themselves, through a variety of “nerve-wracking” conditions and winters that “offered few diversions and many hardships.” Anna eventually took advantage of opportunities for schooling that led to her unflinching grasp at independence as a professional woman. In later life, Shaw was a crusader for women’s suffrage, and managed to become both a medical doctor and a minister. This kind of brutal induction into resourcefulness and independence, while not representative, was also not uncommon.

Girls and boys matured early, and Tocqueville, for one, believed that American children did not have or need an adolescence. The very young child, given the right to handle glassware or crockery, is a child invested with the capacity to act responsibly. Dr. Spock would note more than a century later that such confidence acknowledged that a child is eager to do “grown up things,” like feeding herself in the same way as the adults around her. And early work laid the basis for later habits. Anna Shaw noted that work had “always been my favorite form of recreation.”

The English commentator who saw precocious infant explorers poking around their toys was observing a different model of child development, one that was becoming as alien to middle- and upper-class Europeans of the nineteenth century as it is to us today. While European children of the middle classes were being treated as precious objects of solicitude, needing careful protection, American children who later became presidents, doctors, writers, and reformers were exposed to adult work and responsibility. And they were far less supervised. It was not only that class was more fluid in the United States in this period but that the specific expectations about children remained more fluid than in Europe.

Later in the nineteenth century, middle-class Americans, too, would begin to separate children from adult activities and treat them, as we usually do today, as fragile beings who needed special toys and risk-proof furnishings. But during this initial period when American society was being formed and the culture was laying down historical tracks, children were much more integrated into adult activities and given both more responsibility and more freedom. Most Americans in the first half of the nineteenth century viewed their children’s early maturity as natural, an expression of both the helping qualities they required in the young and beliefs about children’s abilities to be useful from an early age. It was a widespread phe- nomenon in many parts of the new country and remained an active part of the culture up to the end of the century, while elsewhere in the Western world, children were sentimentalized.

It was true for girls as well as for boys, observed in the eastern United States as well as the West, common among rural folk especially but in cities as well. Rachel Buttz’s father, Tunis Quick, was raised in the Shenandoah Valley in the early nineteenth century. His father was a well-meaning “generous, kindhearted man,” but his decision to back a neighbor’s loan impoverished the family, and soon after his mother’s death young Tunis was “hired to a neighbor who required him to do almost as much work as a full-grown man.” Just past ten years of age, Tunis quickly became responsible in other ways as well. Tunis objected to the slavery that was a feature of the area in which they lived, so at fifteen he urged his father to move the family to the North.

They stopped first in Ohio “where [he] was variously employed in farming, hauling goods and keeping a ferry on the Scioto River.” Having worked hard and impressed his employer, young Tunis obtained the means to buy a home in Indiana where the family finally settled. Tunis Quick learned early to assist his family as they struggled, and his sense of responsibility also gave him the ability to think independently and to have his views heard and respected. By what we would consider his mid-adolescence, he had not only directed his family’s migration north, but he was buying property for them. Tunis’s desire to leave a section dominated by slavery is also noteworthy, since it was the South, where slave ownership defined the society, that was the major exception to the developing democracy within families.

To some extent, the independence given to children grew from the ideals and values expressed in the Revolution since Americans believed that future generations had to acquire the characteristics that would maintain the principles enunciated in that event. But more than ideology was involved. No simple commitment to an idea can completely explain the behaviors so widely observed and the general willingness to heed children’s independent judgment. Ideology will not necessarily loosen a father’s grip over his sons when he had always expected to be obeyed and to have his commands met, even when he is committed to republican ideals. In the Southern United States, of course, this loosening of paternal power never happened, since slavery reinforced its grip.

And even in other parts of the United States, some observed the loosening of parental reins with concern and attempted to inhibit the young through new institutions of supervision, such as schools, as they recognized how much mischief could be loosed in a world guided by revolutionary principles. Not all Americans took kindly to the idea of children acting on their own. But a widespread independence among the young continued nevertheless. American life in the first half of the nineteenth century was defined by conditions that made such views about children necessary while the restless temperament of Americans made them ready for change and improvement. Together, these conditions provided children with the leeway to become more independent as they became more useful. Utility as well as ideology needs to be taken into account if we are to understand the families that produced a Grant, Drake, Quick, Shaw, or Wright.

The changing circumstances of the early republic resulted from both material conditions and political institutions. Together, these were widely understood as fundamental to the difference between Americans and Europeans. A shrewd, early observer of the difference, the Reverend Enos Hitchcock, sought to sustain the new revolutionary ideology through appropriate childrearing and education. “The systems of education written in Europe, are too local to be transferred to America; they are generally designed for a style of life, different from that, which is necessary for the inhabitants of the United States to adopt: they do not reach our circumstances, and are not suited to the genius of our government.”

To understand the American regime of domestic relations, we need to grasp just how unsettled, raw, and unpredictable the American land and the developing economy were during the important first half of the nineteenth century, since the experiences of American children and their parents were an expression of that reality. This dynamic new economy revised expectations about youth and what it could achieve. So did the laws governing inheritance and generational relations. The changes in American domestic life also transformed power relations between men and women, husbands and wives, and this, too, affected generational relationships in important ways.”

- Paula S. Fass, “Childhood and Parenting in the New Republic Sowing the Seeds of Independence, 1800–1860.” in The End of American Childhood: A History of Parenting from Life on the Frontier to the Managed Child

[shackermanwrites]

Lifetime

Summary: When everything's falling apart in your life, and you don't know what to do anymore, maybe asking the universe for something isn't a bad idea after all. In which Sol Reader finds herself in another reality after begging the universe for something. Everything is going well not until she was put into Levi's squad.

Chapter 3 -> Chapter 4

Lifetime Masterlist

You're scared, confused, and alarmed. You just woke up in a place you don’t know, and now you're standing on the side of what seems to be your bed.

The place seems familiar to you, but you also don’t know where you are.

Is this a dream?

You didn’t hesitate to slap your face as hard as you can to know if this is only a dream or not.

Yet you felt the sudden pain in your face. Crap, you're not dreaming.

You're frustrated at this point, and you don’t know what you're feeling nor what you should feel and do at this very moment. You are not kidnapped, that’s for sure, since someone just woke you up and your hands and feet are not tied.

You can't breathe.

You can’t move

You placed your hand on your chest as you are trying to calm yourself. You can’t faint right now.

As if someone or something knows the question you have in your head right now, you felt something hanging on your neck.

A necklace.

You can’t see the jewelry on your neck since it is not that long for you to glance at, but you try to feel it by rubbing your fingers into it.

It was only a matter of seconds before a wave of memories gushed in you that made you stumble on your feet, causing the books on the table to fell.

You're still Sol Reader, that’s for sure. You live in Paradis Island for as long as you can remember and joined the military after running away from the orphan inside the wall Sina. You're one of the top cadets, along with Mikasa Ackerman, who became your friend when you're a trainee. Eren Yeager, Armin Arlert, and Jean Kirstein. Those names, no, those people who you have trained with.

You know them

The memories of these people fought alongside you from the beginning of training until you graduated, which was yesterday.

You saw in your memories and felt how you push every ounce of your body in your training. You wanted this.

“You wanted this, right? No matter what the cost is? That being said, you don’t have to ask. You were born to be here, every action has a consequence, and your mother knew that.”

You quickly opened your eyes after seeing a blonde-haired girl said those words to you. You don’t recognize her, but maybe it's because you didn’t get the chance to see her face.

Was that another memory?

“No matter what the cost.” You muttered to yourself. The memories of yourself in this reality kept flooding your mind, every conversation that you’ve had, the pain in your body after training when you were enlisted, the orphanage you grew up in, you can't stop it, and the feelings you’ve felt.

“I was happy, I am happy here, and I am doing well here, I am needed, and I have a good life and good friends.” you muttered to yourself.

Looking back to your current reality where you're just a college student and wasting your life doing things you don’t want to was barely on your mind. The thought didn’t even cross on your mind.

“Fuck this, at least I am still alive.”

Your eyes are filled with confusion, yet the dedication to survive and do things on your own will dominate your body.

Is it because you're different now?

No.

You are not different. You're still Sol Reader.

Yet this time, you're certainly going to do things your way. You want to be someone who you can be proud of. Certainly, you don’t have that much choice. You still want to try to live even if that’s the beginning of the day where you will go beyond your comfort.

What the hell do you think you were doing when you joined the survey corps?

-

Levi’s eyebrow was furrowed the whole time while he looks at the cadets angrily. The eight cadets who topped their class are supposed to be in front of the line, yet seven are only present. It is already 7:06, and the usual call time is seven, so Levi has two things in mind: either the cadet changed his mind and decided to join the military police inside the walls, or they are just irresponsible.

Sure, if you top your class, you have the privilege to choose what regiment you want to be, but this is last minute, and Levi hates it when plans are changed without further notice.

Before Levi could start the orientation, he felt a presence running towards them, and some cadets turn their heads to look.

Levi turns his head and saw an irresponsible cadet tying her hair while running. The harness on your legs is improper. His anger grew more as he looks at you in that state.

On the other hand, you have already said all of the curse words you could think of as you run towards the cadets, all properly lined up. You had to take a shower before you start your day, but you lost track of time, so here you are late and nervous.

You stopped beside the cadet whos first in line, you know him—blonde hair, blue eyes, sweet face, and he's one of your friends, Armin.

You turn your gaze to the person in front of everyone, a black-haired man with a bored expression on his face, and he stood there with a posture that can intimidate everyone. You noticed the green cape he's wearing, and you immediately know that he's one of the higher ranks in the survey corps. You're busy examining the corporal in front of you, and you didn’t notice that he's already looking at you.

He's mad, that’s for sure.

Without a second thought, you instantly salute him as you met his steel-gray eyes.

‘That’s familiar,’ you thought.

“State your name and rank.”

You thickly swallow a lump in your throat. You were about to answer when you were interrupted by him.

“and state your reason why I shouldn’t beat you in front of everyone for being late and irresponsible.”

Maybe it the sudden wind that came that made the tension between the two of you rise.

The man in front of you just humiliated you in front of everyone. You could swear your hand made a fist on its own.

You are never the type of person to lash out when you feel angry, you are not even the type of person to get mad at little things, but what you're feeling right now is a sudden rage, and you know that your body wants to let it out by all means.

This is never the best way to calm someone down, but you try to breathe as you tell yourself that you're okay.

But fuck it, you're not.

“Sol Reader, Top 1 cadet from 104th Cadet.” You paused for a moment, trying to come up with a better answer.

You're on the edge of telling the man in front of you that you needed a shower like a normal human being, but still, you can't just say that you were late because you just woke up in another reality.

“I admit that I was late, and it's my fault for that. I will take any punishment you see fit for me.”

It seems like you thought that you could get away by rolling your eyes at the captain before answering.

But he did notice it, and he does not like it.

“two hundred push up, now!” his voice caught you off guard, so you immediately get on a push-up position and start doing the punishment.

‘that’s it? That’s the punishment?’ you thought to your head. Your body in this reality seems stronger than you could ever be, so you didn’t have a problem doing a regular push-up.

Levi watches you until you at least reach ten push-ups before facing back the cadets.

“The name’s Levi,” he starts.

“Me and section commander Hange Zoe are handpicking cadets to be put in our squad, but unfortunately, Section Commander is not here, so for all of you who are planning on joining her squad or would like to put in other duty, you may leave your ass now.”

More than half of the cadets left the training ground as soon as they can.

They didn’t want to be put into Levi’s squad. Heck, they didn’t even want to be in the same room as the captain. No one did in the survey corps since they are afraid of him.

“step on, anyone who wants to be in my squad.” He gave each cadet a dull look. He was enjoying it as the cadet in front of him contemplates what their decision will be.

On the other hand, you are not enjoying the push-up you're doing, yet you manage to finish. You could swear that you can't feel your arms anymore, but it doesn’t hurt that much. It is tolerable for you.

You got up from your last position and placed your hands on your back, you look at the man in front of you.

Levi, was it?

Curiosity peeked when you noticed that no one wants to be in his squad, you know that you heard rumors when you were a trainee that captain Levi can be violent if you disobey him, but he is much worse words.

Sure, you didn’t want to be in his squad, you still don’t know what you're capable of, but something inside of you wants to be in his squad.

Maybe because you know it'll grant you a position?

Or perhaps you want challenges now as adrenaline rushes to your blood now.

Maybe you felt a familiar presence when his eyes met yours?

You honestly don’t know, but your feet somehow slowly started walking towards him.

Levi’s eye narrowed as he looks at you walking up in front. ‘an irresponsible one digging up her own grave, huh,’ Levi thought.

You heard a faint voice calling for you, and by the tone of their voice, you know that they are worried, you glanced at them, and once your eyes met theirs, you immediately recognized them.

Jean.

You smiled at him as you remember your memory with him.

-

“Kid! How come you have lots of toys? You stole them, aren’t you?”

“No, I didn’t! my aunt gave them to me.”

“If you have an aunt, then why are you here?”

“Well, she just visits now and then. She told me that she’s running errands all the time. That’s why she decided to leave me here.”

You and Jean both grew up in an orphanage inside wall Sina, when you first met, both of you already know that you will get along since Jean was bullied by his looks, and Sol didn’t like talking to other kids you ended up being best of friends.

“You're lucky you have toys like that, I bet they're expensive.” Jean looked at her with eyes full of envy, and he just wishes to have a friend to play with.

“well, it is just a toy so you can borrow them.”

The smile you gave him that day is why you became friends, both of you had no one but each other that day, and since then, you swore that you would never leave each other no matter what happens.

-

You didn’t notice that Jean and Mikasa had already stepped beside you, Mikasa didn’t glance at you, but Jean did. He's worried.

“Tch, come with me, the three of you. The rest, you're dismissed!” he glanced at the three of you one last time before he started leading the way as the three of you quietly followed him.

“Sol, why are you joining without informing me, be thankful that captain Levi allowed me. Now I'm dead since I'm not that strong.” Jean carefully whispered to you, so Levi doesn’t know what you are talking about.

“Sorry, I honestly didn’t think this through. I don’t know what's gotten into-“

You were cut as you bump into something hard. No, it's someone.

You didn’t notice that the captain has stopped walking causing you to bump on his back.

‘fuck’ you repeatedly say in your head.

Mikasa and Jean stayed frozen as their eyes are wide open.

You were taken aback by your thoughts when Levi grabbed your collar and pulled you down so you can face him. “listen here, you little shit, do you have a problem? It seems like you can get on my nerves without even trying, and I am not happy about it. I hope you know I don’t tolerate being dumb in my squad.”

That’s your final blow.

You softly smiled at him and grip on his wrist as tightly as you can while you remove his hand before shoving it in his chest. Levi was shocked that you just manage to remove his grip and pushed his hand on his chest. He just called you dumb early in the morning, and that’s enough reason for your blood to boil.

“Forgive me for bumping into you but I am not dumb and I don’t have any problem, don’t take this the wrong way, but I am here to do my duty as a soldier, not to please you.”

“It's not like you can anyway.”

His eyes narrowed at your response as his anger slowly consumes him, no one dared to talk to him like that, and most cadet that he encountered wants to please him by reaching his standard. They want validation that they are strong and capable but not you. He's not mad about it, in fact, he doesn’t care, but deep inside he likes the idea of it and people who have that kind of mindset, but you both start with a bad start.

Levi reached for his pockets while his gaze stayed on your eyes, you're confident that he's currently reaching for his gun, and this is already your last day here, but the sound of keys proved that you're wrong this time.

The three of you didn’t even notice that you're already in front of his office because his name was carved on the door.

‘I thought I was gonna die.’

Mikasa tug on your sleeves and points at your collar, indicating that you need to fix it, so you did.

“Come in and don’t even think about leaving dirt from your shoes.”

You rolled your eyes at him before entering his office.

You hoped that you made the right choice.

[survivingthejungle]

everybody wants to rule the world (caliban)

When Sabrina was 8 years old, her life got a little more unusual. Being a half witch raised by her two aunts and cousin (all full-blooded witches)  in a mortuary was not a common experience for most children. But things became different when another cousin, from her mother's side of the family, came to live in the Spellman house. Her mother, Diana, had a brother, William; WIlliam married and had a daughter just two years before Sabrina was born. She was named Genevieve Sawyer, and she and her paternal cousin had been very close to one another their entire lives. When it was heard that William had been shot and that Genevieve's mother was not fit to parent, the girl's cousin and family immediately stepped up to take her in and be her legal guardians. 

Despite Genevieve's unfortunate circumstances, she never lost her bright personality or kindness. She seemed to stick out like a sore thumb in the Spellman house from time to time, but it was a welcome change of pace for everyone who lived there. For the next eight years after she had gone to live with her cousins and aunts, she had grown into a compassionate, driven young lady. Growing with her were several pets she had acquired over the years. Genevieve had a special love for animals and so had adopted many. She had a spotted turtle named Tucker, whom she had rescued from getting run over by a truck one morning. She also had an orange tabby cat named Tex, a green budgie named Pico, and a blue pit bull terrier named Bambi. The latest addition to the family was an albino ball python, whom she was currently in the process of naming. 

"Genevieve. I mean it this time," scolded her aunt Zelda. "No more pets. You have barely enough space for them all, and I won't allow any more of this."

"No more, aunt Zelda. I got it. This guy is the last," she affirmed, gesturing with the snake which was slithering over her shoulders and down her left arm. Her aunt shuddered. 

"How you can allow that thing near you is beyond me."

"She's sweet!" she defended. "She's just curious."

"She stays in your room only. If I see a snake slithering about my house I won't hesitate to kill it."

"She won't go anywhere. Promise."

Once her aunt had finished scolding her and left her room, she turned her attention back to her new friend. "What do we call you, huh?" Genevieve said. She set the snake down on her bed and flipped on her record player against the wall to fill the silence, and an old Fleetwood Mac album started spinning. "Well," she said, "I have to take Bambi and Tex on a walk, so I guess we should put you in your tank, huh?" She moved the young albino to the mostly empty tank and placed the lid over it, promising, "I'll get you some decorations while I'm out." Then she put on a pair of socks, laced up her shoes, and grabbed two harnesses and leashes from the footboard of her bed, heading downstairs to find the only two of her pets that were mammals. "Morning, aunt Hilda," she greeted the small blonde woman.

"Oh, g'morning my love! Are you taking Tex and Bambi on a walk?"

"Yeah, once I find 'em." "Well you'll eat first, won't you?" She pointed to the table. "Some toast for you."

"You're the best," Genevieve said, sitting down to take a bite of it. The toast was covered with peanut butter and sliced bananas; simple, but a favorite of the girl's. She finished eating quickly and was off again in search of her cat and dog, finding them in the family room. Tex was lounging on the couch and Bambi had seemingly been banished by him, staring at the tabby from the ground. "You wanna go on a walk?" she said to them both, her voice increasing by about an octave. Bambi's ears perked up and her eyes widened; Tex hopped down from the couch and over to circle Genevieve's legs. "Hey auntie," she called into the kitchen, "Do you know where Beans went?"

"Yes," her aunt called back, "I believe she went to go see Harvey, Roz, and Theo?"

"Okay. Thank you!" She then strapped both of the harnesses onto Tex and Bambi and put them on their leashes, and then made their way outside to their usual walking route. About halfway through their walk she and her two companions made a detour to go to Harvey's garage, where Genevieve had guessed their band would be practicing and where her cousin had gone to find them. Heading around behind his house, she found the garage door unlocked and entered in to find the four of them seemingly discussing something important.

"'Vieve,"  Sabrina greeted as soon as she saw her cousin. "What's up?"

"I was walking Tex and Bambi," she responded, holding up the two leashes attached to both animals. "What's up with you?"

"Sabrina's trying to take us to Hell," Theo told her. 

Genevieve's eyebrows raised and she went to take a seat on the couch closest to her. "Why?" she asked Sabrina.

"Nick." She said his name sadly; she knew her cousin missed him a lot and felt guiltier every day she left him trapped there. "I think I found a way to get him out."

"But, like… He's still…" Genevieve trailed off, not knowing how to formulate her thoughts exactly. 

"Yes," she responded, knowing what the girl was getting at. "A flesh Acheron. But I might have a solution for that too."

—

Sabrina had brought the five of them through Dorian's portal to Hell with an incantation, where they landed on a cold, dark beach, coughing up the salt water that had gotten into their lungs. "Wait, so… Hell is a beach?" Harvey asked.

"The Shores of Sorrow," Sabrina whispered hauntingly. 

Theo stood up and pointed out at the water. "Guys. Look. What are those?" There were tall wooden structures standing above the waves, and from them came pained groans and wails. Hands were reaching out, desperate to grab whatever would come close to them. 

"They're the souls of the damned," called a deep, unfamiliar voice. The group turned their heads to look for the source, and saw a large sandcastle and someone walking out from behind it. He had blond hair and was wearing a flowing white shirt that he had left unbuttoned. "They drown as the tide rolls in. Over, and over," he said, looking out at them, "For all eternity."

"Bummer," Genevieve whispered to Roz.

"Hi," Sabrina greeted him as the group approached him. "We're looking for Lilith." He didn't respond. "Uh, Madame Satan? S-Queen of Hell?" The boy looked pointedly at her, on the verge of a smirk. "She's in Pandemonium, if you happen to know the way." He turned his head and pointed left. Sharp jaw, Genevieve thought. 

"All blood flows to Pandemonium." Sure enough, there was a large rock through which blood was flowing, that seemed to turn into a path further up the beach. "Follow the blood-red road where it flows, and there you'll find the throne of Hell," he instructed, still pointing. 

"Thanks," Sabrina said. He pushed his hair back from the wind blowing on the beach, smirk still present. What does he know that we don't? her cousin wondered.  "And you are?"

He seemed as if he were about to respond, but decided against it. "Never step off the road," he advised. He looked at their feet then. "It's clever you're wearing dead men's shoes. Though… any demon worth his salt can smell mortal flesh a mile away."

Genevieve's brows furrowed. "Ew." The boy glanced at her and then turned back to his project. 

"Come on," Sabrina said, "Let's go." The four trailed behind her, but Genevieve stayed still for a moment. "Hey! I like your sandcastle," she called to the boy. He looked back at her, intrigued. "Bye!" she waved. He lifted a hand in return, and she was on her way. 

— 

The journey through hell had been… adventurous, to say the least. Between the field of crucified people beating eaten by crows, to the forest with a magical flower and a bloodthirsty tin man, to a horrific mock-high school classroom, Genevieve and the others were exhausted, scared, and ready to go back to earth. After being rescued by Lilith's helper, a man dressed in a bellhop's outfit and being seated at some hellish feast, she and Sabrina began a conversation about getting Nick out of Hell and taking care of Theo's uncle's soul as well. The Infernal Kings weren't recognizing Lilith's newfound authority, so she struck a deal with Sabrina- the throne for her boyfriend and her friend's uncle. Sabrina, of course, agreed, and the process had begun.

— 

"Infernal court, I bid you welcome," Lilith greeted from the throne. The three demonic kings stood before her in wait. "The city of Pandemonium has an honored guest. May I present to the hordes, Sabrina Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer Morningstar." Sabrina walked to stand next to the woman and looked around the throne room. "In his absence, she has come to officially declare me Queen of Hell. Isn't that right, Sabrina?"

"Yes, that's right," she told them. 

"This is treason! Heresy!" the Kings protested. "Lilith is a concubine, not a queen. We do not recognize her. She was Lucifer's whore. The realms are in chaos, and the Earth, the Pit, the Heavens, the Cosmos, they all reject Lilith's claim to the throne."

"And who do you propose would rule?" she shot back. 

That was the million dollar question, it seemed, because the Kings got a nefarious look in their eyes. "All hail Caliban, Prince of Hell. Molded from the clay of the Pit itself, native son of the inferno, born to restore and rule our dark domain!"

"Hello again," said the supposed Prince Caliban, in yet another open top. He maintained the smug look on his face that he was wearing at their last encounter. 

"Uh, hi?" Sabrina said, mildly confused. 

"What is this?" Lilith questioned. "This is salvation," he told her. "Since the Dark Lord's desertion, the Nine Circles of Hell have been breaking down. I, Caliban, will restore stability and do what Lucifer failed to do… conquer the earth. Remake it as our Tenth Circle, and enslave the tribes of mortal and witch."

Before anyone else could get a word in edgewise, Genevieve spoke up. "No? You most certainly will not!" she said. He raised his eyebrows at her. "Dude. You're… you're not even a real person." Her brow furrowed. "Someone gets one good blast with a hairdryer and what happens? You dry up and crack?"

"I'm afraid that's not how it works, darling." He stepped closer. "Though you are clever for that." Yet another smirk. Smug bastard. Closer. And closer. 

She glared at him. "Thanks," she deadpanned. 

"You are pretty, for a mortal," he said to her. "Maybe I'll have mercy on you." He lifted a hand to beside her face and toyed with a strand of hair that had fallen out of her braid.

"Don't touch me." She slapped his hand away, and he stepped back. Sabrina and Lilith had been whispering to each other from the moment that Caliban revealed his plan. But now, she was seemingly comatic; her eyes and Nick's were both glazed over in red and they were both catatonic. But when her senses came back and her eyes returned to normal, she had adopted a newfound confidence. "No, we won't," she said to Lilith. "I am Sabrina Morningstar," she announced to the hordes, "And that throne is mine. By blood, and by birth."

"Here we go again," Harvey muttered. Genevieve chuckled. 

"Yours to give me, you mean," Lilith interjected. 

"No. Mine. To claim." She sat on the throne herself, and her cousin had to admit that she looked rather regal. 

"We do not accept this!" the Kings argued. "The witch lives on Earth. She cannot possibly rule Hell."

"You've obviously never been to high school."

"You are a child, not a queen," another King shot. 

"I am a young woman." Right on, her cousin thought. 

"You cannot fulfill your father's duties." "I can," she insisted, looking at Lilith. "With Lilith as my advisor." "What?" "Isn't that what kings and queens do when they're too young to rule?" she argued. "They appoint a…" "Regent," Lilith offered. "Yes. As a matter of fact, yes." "Then you, Lilith, are my regent."

"I dispute this." Caliban, of course. 

"Okay, Dirt-Man," Genevieve said. She had begun to harbor a deeply personal sense of loathing for him, especially because of how he disrespected her cousin's authority and was a raging narcissist. 

After an attempted challenge for the crown, Sabrina dismissed the court and he and his clique left Pandemonium. She and the rest of the group, along with Nick and his tongue, followed Dorian's instructions and used the flower and the incantation to return home. 

— 

Sabrina had royally fucked up— no pun intended. After fumbling her first soul retrieval and getting locked in an industrial freezer by her second, she was beginning to lose hope. And she was running out of time. While Lilith was out searching for the wayward queen, the clay prince decided to go on his own adventure.

— 

Genevieve was occupied in her cozy, bright room when a gust of spiraling flames interrupted her peace. She had been lying in her bed, reading a book and accompanied by all of her pets (which was a rare occurrence). Pico had nestled onto Tuck's shell and they were both napping. Bambi was curled up against her side and Tex at her feet, and the new snake— whose name, she decided, was Rhiannon— was also curled at the end of the bed. "Quite the companions you've got," he spoke deeply, disturbing the silence. "You!" she said, sitting up and starting all but the python. "What are you doing in my room?" she asked, exasperated. 

"Here to see you, of course," he told her, sitting down on the edge of her bed. Genevieve

was still perplexed. 

"...Why?"

"You amuse me, mortal. And you've caught my eye. Your friend may be the Queen of Hell—"

"Cousin," she corrected.

"Your cousin may be Queen, but it's you who's really captured my attention."

"I… Okay," she responded, brows furrowed.

"No one's ever spoken to me as boldly as you have. Especially for a mortal. If I wanted to punish you, in fact, it would be well within my rights. Even your cousin could not do anything about it; laws in Hell differ than on Earth."

"So, what. You're here to kill me? Because I threatened your ego?" Genevieve rolled her eyes and got up, Bambi following after her. She grabbed Rhiannon and carried her over to her tank, flipping the switch for her heater and closing the lid. She then grabbed Tuck, as gently as possible to allow him to keep napping, and put him in his tank as well.

"Of course not," he chuckled. "You're much too interesting. It would be a shame for your potential to go to waste." "Potential," she said, disinterested. Walking to her door, she slipped on a pair of shoes that sat against the wall. "For?"

"For you to align with me. You may not like me much now, but I'm sure you'll grow to."

"For me… I'm sorry, what? You expect me to betray my cousin for someone who wants to literally enslave my people and take over the Earth?" He said nothing. "No!" she waved her hand at him, signaling for him to leave. "Be gone. Or... whatever you say to banish demons." She left her room and headed down the hallway and to the stairs, but Caliban was not far behind. Neither was Bambi.

She made a pit stop in the kitchen to make herself a sandwich before she left the house. "Do you think me unreasonable?" Caliban asked, leaning against the counter while she worked. 

"Well, yeah. Actually I do." 

He grabbed her hand before she could continue. Making sure to never break eye contact, he pleaded, "Please. Let me prove you wrong." She pulled her hand away.

"Why are you so dead set on this?" she groaned. "I said no!" A frustrated laugh left her lips.

"I'll make you a deal," he pressed. She returned her attention to her sandwich and refused to look at him. "Submit to me, and I will abandon my plan to enslave the tribes of Earth." Still, silence. Genevieve pretended that he wasn't even there anymore, slipping Bambi a piece of turkey in between the two of them. Once again, Caliban brought his hand up and grabbed her chin; she couldn't turn away. 

"You won't get the chance," she spat. "My cousin is the Queen. Your plan will never happen." He opened his mouth to argue, but in a split second, decided against it. 

"If that's truly how you feel, then I concede. But know my offer still stands." Genevieve shrugged, straight-faced, unsure how to respond. 

"Will you leave now? I have somewhere to be," she told him, putting her sandwich in a baggie and walking to the kitchen table where a backpack was hanging off the back of a chair. 

"Will the lady allow me to escort her?" he countered. She threw her food, a water bottle, and a sports drink into the bag as she considered it. 

"Fine, I guess." She slung the backpack over her shoulder before kneeling down to scratch and kiss Bambi's head. "Bye, Bambi!" she said, her voice having gone up at least an octave. The blue pit thumped her tail and opened her mouth in a typical pit bull smile. Without a word, she stood up and passed Caliban to go retrieve her sneakers which were sitting by the front door. He followed, attentive to her every move. She locked the door behind her on her way out and began walking into town. 

"Where are you headed to?" he asked her.

"The gym. I coach junior high volleyball."

"Is that a mortal sport?"

"Yeah. I played for a long time."

"Why did you stop?" 

Genevieve stayed silent for a beat. "When I was still in high school, a few colleges wanted to recruit me for their teams. I would have gone to any of them, but…"

"But what?" "Well, I don't really know what I want to do with my life. I didn't want to just up and leave my family with no plan. So after I graduated this spring, I decided to take a gap year to figure out what I want to do."

"Have you figured it out yet?" he asked. His tone seemed genuinely interested. 

She stayed quiet for a while longer. "No," Genevieve admitted, dejectedly.

"Maybe you should work with animals," Caliban offered. "Really? Why?"

"You seem to like them enough, you've got several as pets."

"Yeah, that's fair. But I don't think I could ever be a vet," she claimed. 

"Then don't. Try something else."

"Like what?"

"You're the mortal here, not me," he chuckled. "You know more about your options than I do." Genevieve let out a little laugh as well. "Think about it," he advised her. 

"I will. Thank you, Caliban."

— 

Sabrina didn't return home until well past midnight. As she walked through the front door and quietly closed it, her cousin broke her silence from the stairs. "Where you been, Beans?"

Sabrina nearly jumped, startled. "I was— Oh, Aunties," she muttered, finally facing all three of them. 

"Well, do you care to explain yourself?" Zelda questioned. Sabrina glanced at Genevieve, who was leaning over the top of the banister and mouthed I didn't say anything.

"Oh, I'm sorry I missed your first day at the Academy," she apologized. "I had this prob-"

"How many secrets are you keeping from us?" Zelda interrupted.

Hilda piped up in typical good-cop fashion. "You didn't happen to go to Hell, bring back your father, the Dark Lord, and stick him in the bowels of the Academy without telling us, did you?"

"Putting what's left of the coven, not to mention the entire world, in grave peril, just so you can see your boyfriend." 

"That's not why I did it," Sabrina argued. 

"Oh, God. Here we go again," Genevieve muttered as Tex jumped up onto the bannister beside her. She gave his head an absent-minded scratch as she watched the scene unfold. 

"Oh, I know why you did it. Cassius delivered a stack of books with rituals about soul transference… I thought the Dark Lord was bad. I thought he was dangerous, but Lilith preserve up from his demented, lovesick daughter."

"Aunt Zelda!" Genevieve shouted. "That was so uncalled for!"

"I couldn't just leave Nick in Hell!" Sabrina defended herself. "Every second he was down there, he was in torment. Aunties, every second he was in pain."

"We know, darling," Hilda tried to comfort. 

"And it's my fault." Her cousin began to tear up with the thought of Nick's suffering. "He did it for me. I couldn't just… wash my hands of him." Hilda stepped off of the stairs and went to Sabrina to try to comfort her. "I owed it to Nick to at least try and get Lucifer out of his body and into someone else's."

Zelda had begun to abandon her condemnation of Sabrina's actions, instead demanding that she come up with a well thought-out plan. "Whose? Where do you expect to find another vessel strong enough to withstand being turned into a flesh Acheron for the Devil himself?"

In a moment of perfect timing, Ambrose and Prudence appeared in the front hallway with a raggedy, bearded man at their feet. "Aunties," he greeted. "I'm home." It was evident in his tone and lack of breath that he was exhausted. "Any chance of a cuppa?"

Genevieve went downstairs and followed her cousin and Prudence into the kitchen. 'Whatcha want, 'Bose?"

"Something to help me sleep, finally," he rasped. "Thank you, cousin." (They weren't really cousins, but it was how they had referred to each other since Genevieve had come to live with them those 8 years ago.)

"You too?" she asked Prudence. "Yes, please."

— 

  The next night, Sabrina returned home and immediately headed to Genevieve's room to de-stress from her arduous day. "That jerk Caliban challenged me for the throne," she sighed, laying down on Genevieve's bed. "Again. Legally, this time. And I had to accept it."

Her cousin took a deep breath. "Wow. He's really not letting it go, huh?"

"No. I wish he would, though."

"Well, what was the challenge? What do you have to do?"

"We're both supposed to search for the Unholy Regalia. It's a Hell thing," she explained at Genevieve's confusion. "The first item is Herod's Crown."

"H- King Herod? Like 'kill the babies' Herod?"

"That's the one."

"Jesus," Genevieve exhaled. "...No pun intended." She had been sitting on the floor with Rhiannon, watching as she explored the room, but stood up to sit next to her cousin. "Beans, you've got a lot on your plate right now. Are you sure you're gonna be okay?"

Sabrina considered her question for a moment. "No. Actually, I'm not sure. But I have to do this." She shut her eyes tight for a few seconds before opening them again and sitting upright. "And I have so much homework on top of this."

"You know what? I don't have anything to do tonight. You go to bed, I'll do your homework tonight." Sabrina smiled softly at her cousin. 

"Vieve, you don't have to do that—"

"I know. But I want to. You need to rest. Besides," Genevieve said, "I already got through all of those classes once. I can do a few assignments tonight."

— 

It was about eleven o'clock that same night and Genevieve was on a productive streak- in terms of getting her cousin's homework taken care of. She had advised Sabrina to talk to Ambrose the following day about looking for the crown and, subsequently, the rest of the regalia. In the midst of her focus, a gust of heat hit her and she could sense a presence in her room. She didn't even bother to turn around from her desk. "Go away, Caliban."

"I take it you've heard about my challenge, then?"

Genevieve set her pencil down and stared at him. "Do you have any idea the shit Sabrina's been going through, lately? I know you don't care, because all you want is power, but she's an actual person with other responsibilities and an entire life that she's dealing with on a daily basis. You're made of clay and you're from Hell, I get it, you must not have any sense of empathy, but this is taking a toll on everyone. You are such a raging narcissist." Caliban's smirk had dissipated by now. "Get out of my house, Caliban. I'm busy."

"You're wrong," he said. He was uncharacteristically quiet. "I can be empathetic." He sat down on the edge of Genevieve's bed, and Tex had allowed him to pet his head. "I do have emotions."

"Showing them from time to time might do you good." He said nothing, focusing his attention entirely on Tex rather than making eye contact with Genevieve. "Why are you here?" she asked, adopting a gentler tone. She felt as if she had been hard enough on him to get her point across. "Don't you have a crown to find, or something?"

"I've not yet located it. I was wondering if you've considered my offer?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "I don't think you're gonna win. Beans may be busy, but she's smart. And talented."

"Well, she is the Dark Lord's daughter."

"Regardless. No, I haven't considered it. Is that all?"

"I hear there's a carnival in town."

Her brows furrowed momentarily. "What do you care?"

"Would it please the lady to accompany me? Tomorrow night?"

Genevieve went stiff like a deer in headlights. "Um… sure, okay. I guess?"

"You seem confused," he observed. 

"Yeah, I- I am. A little. Surprised. Why do you wanna go to the carnival?"

"Is this not how mortals court each other?" he asked, standing up to lean against the desk she had been working at. He seemed his usual self again, another smirk crossing his face. "Or would you rather skip the formalities?" He winked, grinning down at her. Though she was still sitting, it was obvious that he was taller than she was. 

She scoffed lightly. "Fine. I will go to the carnival with you tomorrow," Genevieve conceded. "Are you done now?"

"Are you sure you wouldn't have me spend the night?" he teased. 

"Don't push it, Dirt-Man."

"As you wish," he told her, and threw his arms up, creating a vortex of fire and returning to the pits of hell. 

— 

Genevieve finally retired to bed at about quarter till 1 in the morning. Rhiannon was cozy in her tank and Tuck was in his; Pico was sleeping in his cage and Tex was curled up at the foot of her bed. Bambi was laying with her back to Genevieve's, but the blue pit had been awoken by a sudden presence appearing in the room. In the dark, Caliban had returned once more to the girl, this time having astral projected. Bambi's head stuck up, sniffing at him. He put his finger up to his lips and whispered to the dog, "Shh." Bambi was convinced and went back to sleep, leaving the boy to himself. He walked around until he was facing her, and he knelt down at her bedside. He rested his head on one arm while his other hand brushed some stray hairs away from her face. She looked so peaceful he was almost afraid to touch her. "Sleep well, darling girl," he whispered. "And forgive me for what I must do." Without another word, he kissed her forehead and promptly returned to his physical body in Hell. 

[harleythatcher]

☽ [ Hailee steinfeld, she/her, cis woman ] ☾ [ harley thatcher ] has lived in [ the waterhole ] for [ her whole life ] now. the [ 26 ] year old [ werewolf ] is the [ arms dealer ] for the [ hellhounds ]. but they also make an honest earning as a [ assistant manager and tattoo artist ] for [ thatcher ink and salon ]. truthfully, they remind me of [ the sound of a tattoo gun hitting skin, cigarette smoke in the distance, long dark hair cascading down your back ]. whenever it’s their turn to be the getaway driver, they blast [ pour some sugar on me by Def Leppard ] on full volume. ☼☼ ooc info; Sarah, 25, she/her, est

Trigger warning for mention of death, guns, murder

FULL NAME: Harley Rivers Thatcher-Matthews

NICKNAME: H, Har, Scarface, little ass kicker 

BIRTH DATE & AGE: 26, December 14th

PLACE OF BIRTH: Skull, Arizona 

CURRENT CITY: Skull, Arizona 

NOTICEABLE FEATURES: Long legs, large scar across her left cheek, hazel eyes, dark hair that is usually seen in a messy bun, tattoos scattered across her entire body 

TATTOOS: Too many to count

PIERCINGS: both ears, cartilage on her left ear, nippels 

CHILDREN: Dakota Thatcher

PETS: Orange tabby cat, Chezit

MINI BIO

Harley Thatcher was born to two loving, young parents - Cecelia and Ethan. They weren’t exactly very old when they became parents to her….only eighteen to be exact 

Cece let Ethan name their daughter and the first name that came to his head was Harley, her name coming from his love for bikes and being a member of the Hellhounds. Sure, it may have seemed a bit cliche, but he felt like it fit suited her

The pair wanted children but were they 100% ready to have a baby by themselves? Far from it. Her mother was cutting hair at the family salon and her dad? A pizza delivery boy and aspiring tattoo artist

Even though it was incredibly difficult, they made it work. Sure, they never have much extra money laying around so that resulted in the girl growing up in the local trailer park and wearing hand-me-downs and eating off brand food. She did not have the most lavish upbringing, but her childhood was filled with love and support from parents who adored her feisty self 

Speaking of feisty, Harley has always been one to push the envelope and not take shit from others. Sometimes that worked in her favor but other times? Not so much. 

She generally was always getting into trouble at school by her teachers and fellow peers, it would range from skipping class, back talking to authority figures, sneaking out/partying, running from the cops, and landing herself overnight in jail for the stupid things she did as a teen. 

Eventually, her actions would catch up to her at the age of seventeen. The young girl found herself getting into a nasty altercation at school with another student that turned bloody and almost deadly. Harley ended up beating up the girl so severely that she left the other person half deaf and in the hospital.

As a result, she was sent to prison (tried as an adult) for a total of three years a few hours away. It was a hard three years to get through, only being able to get visits from her parents and other family members once or twice a month due to the distance 

Her father ended up getting murdered when Harley was nineteen while out on a mission for the Hellhounds. She always knew that her dad had a dangerous job but when she heard the news, it broke her entire heart. He was her role model and best friend in the entire world and he was just...gone.

At twenty years old she was finally released from prison and made her return to her beloved town of Skull. 

Harley’s father’s death fueled her to do better and find more of a purpose with her life. She had always grown up around the Hellhounds members and basically considered them her second family. The brunette always pondered wanting to become a member, so she decided to pass on her father’s legacy and become a prospect. 

After a few years of prospecting, she moved up the ranks to become an arms dealer, just like Ethan 

When she was twenty four, she became pregnant with a guy she had been casually seeing for a few months. After breaking the news to him, he was so excited and overjoyed with the news that he proposed to her and at seven months pregnant with their daughter, she had a courthouse wedding. It was followed by a humble reception at the restaurant they had their first date at. 

Things were sweet for only so long though and when their daughter Dakota was around eight months, Harley would find out that her husband was cheating on her with another woman. That night, she bagged up all of his shit and threw it out of their trailer, telling him to go to hell and get lost. She hasn’t been in contact with him ever since. 

Right now, she is trying her best to be a single mother, member for the Hellhounds, and an assistant manager and artist at the family salon and tattoo parlor. 

FUN FACTS

Is a full blooded werewolf, both of her parents being them 

Always has had a strong love for drawing and while she was in prison, did some tattooing on the other inmates that were her friends

Has a large scar across her left cheek that she got from a homemade knife after a fight with another inmate 

Adores classic rock, having many fond memories of listening to it with her dad as a kid 

Is very much a tomboy and feels most confident with her leather jacket and her hair in a messy bun

She doesn’t know how many tattoos she has, them being all around her body. Harley has two full sleeves and her tattoos vary in size and style 

Her favorite flowers are sunflowers 

Is still technically married, she never filed for divorce from her husband despite them being estranged

Thatcher Salon was merged into Thatcher Salon and Ink after her parents saved up enough to build onto the building to add a room for tattooing. Harley filled in as one of the main artists / managers after her father’s passing. 

Full Biography coming soon.

[lastsonlost]

These women have dedicated their lives to addressing a crisis of masculinity

Some have academic backgrounds or at first campaigned for women's rights

They believe society has developed a creeping antipathy towards all things male

So who are they — and what are the issues they are fighting on men's behalf?

The gender pay gap. The lack of women in top jobs. The #MeToo movement and the exploitation and abuse it exposed. There is a damning list of evidence that the fight for equal opportunities and rights for women is far from over.

This makes it all the more surprising that a small but increasingly vocal band of women is fighting for justice — not for women, but for men.

These women have dedicated their lives to addressing what they see as a crisis of masculinity and the unfair treatment of men by society.

They come from academic backgrounds or began campaigning for women's rights before focusing on problems of the other sex.

Of course, it is not the case that women's advancement can come only at the expense of men. And no one could deny women still face huge obstacles on the road to equality.

But the campaigners believe that in its attempts to rectify historical wrongs towards women, society has developed a creeping antipathy towards all things male, and this is knocking men's confidence at a time of intense cultural shift.

They fear that many men and boys are neglected, ignored and excluded. This, they say, is why men's mental health problems are on the rise. Suicide is now the biggest killer of UK men under 45.

Some of their views are highly controversial, and some activists have been accused of ignoring the harm done to women by men, or excusing it.

So who are these women, why on earth are they doing this — and what are the issues they are fighting on men's behalf?

COURTS PUNISH MEN – AND KIDS LOSE OUT

Alison Bushell, 57, from Suffolk, runs a social work consultancy.

Britain's family courts are engaged in practices that separate fathers from their children, knowingly or not, Alison believes. She says: 'The pressure groups springing up, some of which are advising the Ministry of Justice on domestic violence cases, have an anti-male agenda.'

In 20 years as a statutory social worker she saw a lack of effort to keep families together and an 'airbrushing out' of many dads.

'I see fathers marginalised and excluded from their kids' lives,' she says, 'while mothers are supported by out-of-date gendered views of parenting within the courts, and health and social services.'

And so, she believes, custody of children is often automatically given to women even when that isn't in a child's best interests.

'False allegations are more prevalent than people realise and supervision orders disproportionately happen to fathers.'

Every day, Alison gets calls from men who haven't seen their kids for up to five years. 'Having lost contact with their children, such men sometimes turn to alcohol or drugs out of sheer desperation.

'More become depressed. I had a client who took his own life. I believe the allegations against him were a major contributing factor.'

Alison has faced several complaints of bias while representing — largely male — clients in court, but none has been upheld.

Disillusioned and concerned to highlight these inequities, she left statutory social work ten years ago to set up consultancy, Child and Family Solutions. The agency works with families going through bitter separations, and carries out assessments for the Family Court and local authorities.

She has also worked with male domestic abuse victims. 'It has given me huge respect for those daring to speak out, because there is so little help available. It is a national scandal that so few refuge places are available for men.'

In England there were more than 3,600 beds in safe houses for women in 2017, but just 20 for men. The charity ManKind Initiative, which Alison supports, has told her that only 36 of 163 beds now available in refuges or safe houses are earmarked for men.

'Since Office for National Statistics figures state that 40 per cent or more victims of domestic abuse are men, this is alarming.

'When will people realise that holding on to a gendered narrative in domestic abuse is harmful?'

As for gender politics, Alison admits she has performed a volte-face. 'In the 80s I spent time at Greenham Common and lived in a women-only house. I even had a badge declaring 'a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle'. How times change.

'I can now be found reading [neoconservative author] Douglas Murray or listening to a talk by [Right-wing psychologist] Jordan Peterson.'

WHY I'M FIGHTING FEMINISM

Belinda Brown, 54, is a social anthropologist and co-founder of Men For Tomorrow. A widow with two children, she lives in London.

When she met her second husband, social scientist Geoff Dench — known as the architect of the socially conservative Blue Labour movement — Belinda's activism was ignited.

Together they set up Men for Tomorrow to research male problems — and fight against what they saw as a tendency to 'neglect or ignore issues affecting men'.

Shortly after their 2009 marriage, however, Geoff was diagnosed with a rare brain disease, progressive supranuclear palsy. He died on June 24 last year, aged 77. Belinda nursed him until the end.

She plans to continue his work by exposing what she sees as a deliberate attempt by feminist activists to undermine the traditional family unit.

She writes and speaks on a range of topics concerning men for platforms such as The Conservative Woman website, and carries out research aimed at reinforcing 'traditional' values.

As an anthropologist, she learned about feminism during her studies, but disagreed with much of what she heard.

'I was always aware of my own power and the power of other women,' she says. 'While I knew there were injustices which needed rectifying, today I see more injustices afflicting men.

'Most men work extremely hard to provide for their families, often at considerable cost to themselves. For women to ignore these sacrifices and instead blame men for all the problems in the world, it's divisive and damaging to gender cohesion.'

Belinda has worked for homeless charity Shelter, where like Alison Bushell she was shocked by the high proportion of men she saw.

'Almost all the rough sleepers were men and family breakdown was the reason so many were without homes,' she says.

'During divorce settlements it was always the wives who gained ownership of the house, leaving husbands stranded.'

According to charity Homeless Link, today 84 per cent of the homeless are men, and their average age at death is just 44, half the average male lifespan. She also draws a correlation between the current epidemic of gang-related knife crime and the rise in fatherlessness. Most of the offenders, she says, come from broken homes, according to her research.

As for the future of gender relations, she has this to say: 'I hope one day soon feminism will be seen as an interesting period of history, but one which caused tremendous damage to society.'

BOYS NEED MORE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT

Sonia Shaljean, 49, founded award-winning community interest company, Lads Need Dads. Married with three teenage sons, she lives in Essex.

Sonia has observed men at their lowest ebb during her 20-plus years as a substance misuse counsellor and anger management specialist within the fields of alcohol, drugs, criminal justice and homelessness.

'I was struck by how many of those men had grown up either without a father or with an abusive or unsupportive dad,' she says. So she founded not-for-profit Lads Needs Dads in 2015, with an initial grant of just £4,000.

The organisation has a team of trained male mentors, who encourage emotional intelligence in boys aged 11-15 with absent fathers. It also provides opportunities for youngsters to take part in outdoor activities, learn practical life skills and volunteer in the community.

She believes it helps to have a woman at the helm. 'If it were a man leading an all-male organisation, it could possibly be disregarded by some women.

'Our aim at Lads Need Dads is to provide support, guidance and encouragement — and a much-needed male voice to enable boys to open up.

'It's so rewarding to watch boys' self-esteem, emotional stability and motivation grow. They perform much better at school, too, as well as having improved relationships at home.'

According to the Centre for Social Justice, 1.1 million young people have little or no contact with their fathers, while 2.7 million live in lone parent families.

In his book The Boy Crisis, Dr Warren Farrell explains how fatherless boys, and to a lesser extent girls, tend to have less empathy and are more likely to break the law. According to a Unicef report on the wellbeing of children in economically advanced nations, including the UK, 85 per cent of youths in prison have an absent father.

Sonia was keenly interested in the link between fatherlessness and offending, in part because she started her career in a civilian role at the Metropolitan Police, where she managed a Community Safety Unit and helped refer victims and perpetrators to the right services.

Later she worked for the charity Refuge, setting up two women's refuges in South East London alongside volunteering on a national helpline for a men's charity that provided therapeutic programmes for men wanting to change their behaviour.

Sonia is keen to point out that not all boys growing up without a father end up as a statistic, saying: 'Other protective factors come into play, such as encouraging boys to join clubs and take part in sports, where they can find positive male role models.

'We aren't here to replace fathers. In fact our programmes have reunited many boys with their dads after years of absence.'

FATHERS PAY THE PRICE IN DIVORCE

Stacey Camille Alexander-Harriss, 41, a family support worker and children's novelist, moved to the UK from America ten years ago after meeting her English husband online. He's a City finance director and they live in Ilford with their two dogs.

A former Art and French teacher, Stacey now works supervising contact between fathers and their children after family breakdown, at Alison Bushell's agency.

'We tend to work more with dads than mums, as they seem to be the ones who have difficulty retaining a relationship with children after divorce and frequently become depressed in the custody battle.'

She believes this is the result of systemic inequalities and a bias towards mothers. 'Women hold all the power, especially when it comes to custody.

'It's unfair that dads have to pay for all the legal costs, paying people like Alison to advocate.

'Often men with good jobs from affluent backgrounds end up taking out loans. Even if you win you spend so much on this insane game.

'When mothers notice there is a maternal bias they realise they can say whatever they like about their ex. I've heard accusations of terrorism just to get custody. It's so ugly. And when mothers refuse to seek help for their emotional problems they tend to place the blame on men.'

Her books deal with troubled families — Myrtle Takes Tea, published under the pseudonym Alexander Stacey, is about a lonely nine year old with mean teachers and parents with money problems. All that matters to her is her prized toy rabbit Earl Grey.

Stacey thinks setting an example is a way to heal these injuries and help families.

'All the tools I use in my work are drawn from examples set by my own parents who were loving, strong and wise. My father was an orthopaedic surgeon and he and my mother were married for 40 patient years until they both passed away. I try to teach fathers about the importance of discipline, responsibility, self-reliance and confidence.'

I HAD DEATH THREATS - AND A BOMB SCARE

Erin Pizzey, 80, founded women's charity Refuge. She is now a patron of the charity Families Need Fathers. She lives in South London and is divorced with two children.

'I'm all for equality of the sexes,' Erin Pizzey says.

'But equality isn't the endgame for those feminists who believe women would be far better off without men.'

This may sound odd coming from the founder of the first women's refuge.

It's nearly 50 years since, aged 32 and with two young children, she set up The Chiswick Women's Refuge as a place 'where women could meet and use our talents'.

'Both my parents were violent and my mother beat me,' she says. 'So when the first battered woman came through the door and said 'no one will help me', I knew what she meant.'

The London house became women's charity Refuge — and led to the creation of hundreds more women's refuges. And yet Erin became a pariah, as she insisted many female victims were also violent.

'Of the first 100 women who came into my refuge, 62 were as violent or more violent than the men they had left,' she says.

'Therefore, domestic violence can't be a gender issue, it can't be just men, because we girls are just as badly affected.'

She became a hate figure for saying so. 'They branded me a 'victim blamer'. 'After a bomb scare, the police suggested my post be sent to them for inspection.'

In the Seventies, she tried to set up a refuge for men, with little success. 'The rich men who were willing to fund my projects for women refused to give any money to male victims.' Now she works with Families Need Fathers and is a patron of The ManKind Initiative, a charity which supports male domestic violence victims.

The subject may be becoming less taboo. Police in England and Wales recorded nearly 150,000 instances of domestic violence to men in 2017, more than double those in 2012 — which in part reflects a greater willingness to report problems.

The 2018 Crime Survey for England and Wales recorded that 7.9 per cent of women (1.3 million) and 4.2 per cent of men (695,000) have suffered domestic abuse.

It is women who are far more likely to be victims of extreme violence. Government figures show, for example, that 73 per cent of victims of domestic homicides from 2014 to 2017 were women, while most killers were male.

This leaves male victims in a difficult situation, which Erin is working to address. She says: 'I am fighting for my son, my grandsons and my great grandsons, so that they might have a future where men are no longer demonised.'

The War On Masculinity by James Innes-Smith will be published by Little Brown in spring 2020.

[chaoswillfallrpg]

LARKIN MULCIBER is TWENTY-THREE YEARS OLD and a SOLIDER in THE DARK LORDS ARMY at THE DEATH EATER’S HEADQUARTERS. He looks remarkably like WOO DO-HWAN and considers himself aligned with THE DEATH EATERS. He is currently OPEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: abuse, blood, death, animal death

The king of shadows and gold, Larkin Mulciber is the chilled shiver running down the back of necks, the ominous dread held in unwelcome prying eyes and a manipulative puppeteer toying with his unwilling victims strings. While deemed psychotic by most, he was never always so twisted. Born to KYUNG MULCIBER, a man as hateful as he was cunning, Kyung single handedly raised his youngest in disgrace. Bred a tormented soul, Larkin was branded the Grim Reaper. YEONG YANG, his mother and the light of Kyung’s life, took her last breath at Larkin’s first, casting bitterness into the family's hearts. Without a single word of kindness, Larkin was resented by those supposed to grace him with care. Interactions were met with hostility and volatile anger; even from the likes of the house elves who once idealised their mistress. Growing in the fall of his mother’s glory, hidden in the secluded mountains of the Lake District enchanted barriers kept the Mulciber manor secluded from unwelcome guests. Isolated and with a severe lack of love, Larkin’s youth was spent whispering secrets to spiders dangling off chandeliers; while his father secluded himself to the west wing never to be disturbed. With his father absent and cold, Larkin tried earnestly to grasp onto pieces of a parent. Hours spent by candle light in the family library, from archives detailed in gold and towering family portraits, he formed a fragmented image. A woman once powerful, resilient and beautiful, illuminated in piercing emeralds that matched her eyes; his late mother. Someone he thought could have loved him, if only Morgana had been kind.

With wealth and a line as Pure-Blooded as those belonging to The Sacred-Twenty Eight, the family reveled in a deep rooted sense of entitlement. Renowned for possessing an aptitude for the dark arts, purist rhetoric was laced in their lives from dusk till dawn. Breeding chaos, while Kyung praised ERIS and JAE in glory, Larkin was cursed into darkness and strife. Companion only to those who too grew in neglect, spiders, bats and screeching owls looked upon the bruised boy of woe with sorrow, offering comfort. Just like his siblings Larkin was taught not what beauty magic held, but what power. Growling voices with a tone as sharp as poison scorned him, disapproving glares reflected in the shattered mirrored walls of the Mulciber ballroom turned training arena, distorted and manic as his father’s teachings turned cruel. Harnessing darkness, unregistered Gregorovitch wands concealed their illegal activities from the Ministry of Magic, enabling them to continue their legacy of turmoil and devastation all while slipping through the grasps of the law. The eldest Eris, named after the goddess of chaos and strife herself, channeled internalised anger into the cruel art of the Cruciatus curse. Second born, Jae’s handsome features acted as the perfect deception for the master of death; with Avarda Kavarda being his speciality. Leaving Larkin to master the complexity of the mind and the Imperius curse. Divine and divisive, the family were notorious for playing Merlin himself as they manipulated powers beyond their control. Together, the trio made a master of sin and torment. 

Desperate for gratification and to be seen in the same glory as his siblings, Larkin’s sensibility grew cruel in a plight to prove his worth. Cursing the house elves with a flick of his finger, he left them dangling on the ceiling with a twisted grin all for a glimmer of respect to flicker in his fathers eyes. The more souls he puppertered, the more praise he received. Forging himself into a sinner in a plea to gain what he could only dream of; acceptance from his father. While his siblings attended Dumstrung, Kyung expressed that Larkin's talents would be better suited to that of Hogwarts. Speaking tales of a heroic wizard whom he had once schooled with know as THE DARK LORD, Kyung spoke of a new world where those inferior would finally know their place. Entrusted on a quest to befriend like minded sorcerers, Larkin vowed to find those as equally wicked. Cunning as the devil, the sorting hat barely graced his head before announcing his rightful place in Slytherin. Strong willed and determined, he basked in the notorious nature of his family's legacy. Gaining respect from the likes of PERSEPHONE, NEPHTHYS and RABASTAN for his damming schemes and competent hexes; Larkin was renowned as the king of chaos. Joint in arms, JASPAR AVERY was from a reputable family, though entitled he held little promise in Larkin’s eyes of matching his wits; but made a reputable ally. Second in their ranks was SEVERUS SNAPE, an odd wizard with an aptitude for potions, despite his scorned Half-Blood status, his intellect was more akin to his own. Donned in their Slytherin uniform, the trio quickly became notoriously known for their vile pranks on those they deemed unworthy to study magic. 

Basking in others misfortune and consumed with desire to appease his family, Larkin fell into a suffocating kingdom of darkness. That was, until he met them. MARY MACDONALD was everything he wasn’t. Kind hearted with a warm disposition, if Larkin was the king of the underworld, Mary was the beautiful wix dancing in golden fields above. A Muggle-Born and adored friend of annoyances JAMES, SIRIUS, REMUS and PETER, Jaspar dared him to bring the sweet creature to ruin in their cruelest scheme yet. What had started as a ploy to break the wix’s heart, turned into a secret relationship hidden in the shadows of the clocktower. Despite himself, he fell in love with Mary. Intoxicated by their light and the only person to ever bring warmth to his cold heart, Larkin grew desperate in his attempts to keep their love a secret. Anonymous letters and aloof passings, despite efforts to conceal their passion Nephthys caught a stolen glimpse between the pair one cold December night. Outraged that he’d betrayed the sanctity of magic, she deemed him a blood-traitor for his evident adoration for a filthy mudblood. Threatening to expose his fraternization with her wand pointed to his throat, Larkin became agonisingly aware that even the rumor of affection would leave Mary dead by dawn. Never knowing a monster that they were unable to love, Larkin knew Mary would be obstinate in their belief that love conquered all. But with Nepthys threats lingering over his head, logically he knew the only way to guarantee their safety was to make an example of them. 

Plotting in an aid to set them free and comforted in the knowledge it would merely put Mary into a dreamlike state; Larkin encapsulated them in his arms and stole one last kiss before uttering ‘Imperio’. Instantly Mary’s love faded to a vacant expression; leaving them completely at his disposal. Encouraged by Jasper’s twisted grin, they left torment in their wake. Killing Flinch’s cat, Mary’s hands covered in blood, they set to their final destination of The Black Lake. Floating like Ophelia with their lace dress billowing around them, Larkin was moments from sinking Mary briefly into the water’s dark depths when LILY EVANS made her presence known. Concentration broken, Mary’s piercing screams of terror echoed around the grounds cutting Larkin’s heart like a knife. Quickly expelled, he left Hogwarts donned a hero by purists alike. But for once, he didn’t feel pride in his actions, instead, remorsed in sorrow of the consequences. Finishing his final years of education at Durmstrung, Larkin’s dove into his studies with cruel intent. Donned a lone wolf by peers such as MEI-LING FALKOV and JUDAH ILLIOTT, while the school harboured those residing in darkness; none held Larkin’s unique sense of chaos. Wandless magic for unforgivable curses was rare and known by few, including the Muclibers who left many pleading for mercy with a mere curl of their hand. Seeking power in destruction, those that feared him donned him a monster. Stalking dark alleys in his black jacket embossed with scales, Larkin sunk his teeth into the pits of hell daring it to fight back. Gone were the flowers Mary had once laid, left only an empty chasm of a man; unhinged and dangerous with little left to lose. 

While his relatives prided their superiority through status, Larkin’s renowned talents made him a vital recruit into The Dark Lord’s army. Graduating, Larkin has become an esteemed member in the fight for the new world. Settling on the outer banks of London with a heart rotted black, darkness swarms like a whirlpool in his chest. His free time spent lingering in the shadows playing with the minds of the undeserving, tarantula resting on his shoulder. Under the orders of CASTOR and BELLATRIX, Larkin is gathering information on those who could cause complications to The Dark Lord’s plans. Sniffing out Blood-Traitors, Larkin is playing the unsuspected in a plight to move up in the ranks. GILFRED ABBOTT, was the perfect victim for his scheme. Suspecting little when questions from Larkin’s lips instead left the young Gryffindor’s; his sweet demeanour acts as the perfect mask to torment. Though as charmed as his antics are, he has his sights set on bigger fish; DOUGAL, COINNEACH, NATHAIR and MARLENE MCKINNON, a family seeking to devalue Pure-Blood legacy by allowing a Muggle-Born into their ranks was the perfect target to finally bring him to glory. Fueled by underlying jealousy at their free love, Larkin is scheming to ruin the family from the inside. Word from REGINA ROWLE, reveals Nathair as the wizard who reported the recent prophecy to the Ministry. While the other McKinnon siblings shout for equality, Larkin has his eyes set on the brother that prefers the shadows than the light. Calculating his plans, he knows Nathair will be the undoing of the family, if only he pulls on the right set of strings.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: 

Blood Status → Pure-Blood 

Pronouns → He/Him

Identification → Cis Male

Sexuality  → Pansexual

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Slytherin) & Durmstrang Institute  

Family → Kyung Mulciber (father), Yeong Mulciber (mother), Eris Mulciber (sister), Jae Mulciber (brother), Jieun Mulciber (aunt)

Connections  → Jaspar Avery (best friend), Severus Snape (best friend), Castor Wilkes (mentor), Bellatrix Black (friend/colleague), Persephone Wilkes (close friend), Nephthys Nott (close friend/adversary), Rabastan Lestrange (friend) Mary MacDonald (ex-partner/potential love interest/adversary), Mei-Ling Falkov (aquaintance/classmate), Judah Illiott (adversary/classmate), Regina Rowle (informant), Sirius Black (adversary), James Potter (adversary), Remus Lupin (adversary), Peter Pettigrew (adversary), Dougal McKinnon (person of interest), Coinneach McKinnon (person of interest), Nathair McKinnon (aquaintance/person of interest), Marlene McKinnon (adversary/person of interest), Lily Evans (adversary), Dorcas Meadows (adversary),

Future Information → N/A

LARKIN MULCIBER IS A LEVEL 7 WIZARD.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

James Tobias Moore: An Introduction

Name: James Tobias Moore

Age: 29

DOB: February 25th 1867

Height: 6ft 4

Body type: Broad, large, strong, he got a soft tummy tho cause he’s weak for sweet baked goods

Hair: Long enough to tie up at the back in a bun, messy, ginger

Appearance: Covered in freckles and scars. So many scars. He’s had a tough life and nearly died more times than is probably reasonable for his age. 

Career/Lifestyle: Lives in a cabin in the woods and is self-sufficient. Hunts, fishes, forages, and grows his own vegetables when the weather is right. Earns money from hunting and fishing, but also does odd jobs around, helps people with things they need. 

Personality: Comes across quite gruff, brash, straight to the point. Not much of a conversationalist and never going to spout poetic at you, but he’s soft with those he cares about and loves. Will show you how much he loves you by providing for you, bringing you blankets, making you dinner, carrying you to bed when you fall asleep in front of the fire. Amazing with children and animals. 

Pets: Brandy, a large bay shire horse, more of a companion than a pet though. She’s been in his life a good while now. 

Series: And Bluebells Gleamed on Mountain Wild

While ‘requests’ are technically closed i’m happy to have them for my OCs. I’d like to start writing for these guys and i’m also happy to have questions and be asked for ‘headcanons’ about them although technically they’re canon facts if they’re my characters right? I don’t know, Just i’m happy to engage with you guys and talk about these soft boys because I want to write reader inserts but want that control of knowing the character and having them be my character. Also rugged mountain man in the 19th century? What a vibe. 

Reader for this is described as female because time periods, not sure if i’ll being doing gender neutral stuff for these guys or not. But if it’s not i’ll always sign post it so you don’t have to worry!

The year is 1896, the weather is turning colder. Autumn melting into winter, the first snow falls will begin soon, he thinks. James Tobias Moore has a lot to do, a lot to prepare before the cold season truly hits and the flurries come in. Living in the woods away from town, he spends most of the year living off the few plants he grows beside his cabin, the herbs, mushrooms, and roots he forages, the animals he hunts and the fish he catches in the nearby lake.

When the snow comes he won’t be able to hunt often and fishing will be more difficult and not worth the effort of sitting in the cold for hours. So he pulls his thick coat on, covers his worn hands with gloves and sets off with his worn satchel. Locking the door behind him, he takes a moment to turn dark brown eyes to the sky. It’s growing greyer every day, a sure sign that a snow storm would hit before long. He needs to make the trip to town now before he misses his chance, he wouldn’t be in dire straits without the supplies, but it would be a trickier winter for certain.

He whistles, loud and clear. Brandy comes plodding from around the corner, the large bay shire horse bobbing her head up and down in greeting. He smiles softly, quietly, gently pats her neck searching in his coat pocket for an oat cake he knows he left there last time he took her out. She’s impatient, large head pushing at his pocket, nibbling at the coat until he finally finds the treat and proffers it to her, she accepts it quickly, nickering quietly at him.

“C’mon then, girl, we have work to do.” His voice is quiet, a southern twang to it that hasn’t left even after moving further north. The shire follows along behind him, following him to the cart he uses on occasion to get goods from town or sell the spoils of a successful hunting trip. He’s careful as he hitches Brandy to the cart, making sure everything sits right, nothing too tight, nothing incorrectly harnessed. She’s his one companion out here and he’s careful to look after her.

The horse nibbles at ginger strands of his hair as he adjusts part of the harness and he huffs at her, giving her an admonishing look that she no doubt doesn’t understand. He gives her one last pat on the nose before getting into the cart and taking the reins, beginning the journey into town.

It’s a long journey, but in the winter months a necessary one. He’ll stock up for the winter, tinned foods, matches, extra blankets, hay. Things he doesn’t already have and can’t source himself. He has enough salted and dried meat, he’s been preserving hunts since the weather started to turn colder and it’s just the last bits he needs. There’s you too. It’s his last chance to see you before the snow hits, he won’t be able to see you till spring. Not that he’d ever admit that he goes to town to see your soft smile. He was just a gruff mountain man after all. He wasn’t good with his words. 

He hadn’t always been a hunter, fisherman and outdoorsman. There was a time he worked in the sunnier parts of the country on a horse ranch, a time he worked shifting goods in a factory and a time he worked as a bounty hunter. The odd jobs are behind him now and he likes the life he’s built for himself, quiet and secluded, he fends for himself and enjoys the noise that comes from nature. It’s a different sort of life than living in a crowded, smoggy city, or a populated town. He’s never been much of a conversationalist, never was very good with words, and the isolation suits him fine. Even if there’s one person he’d happily share his cabin with. 

At 29 years old James is happy with the cabin he’s built, the life he currently has. He helps the odd stranger here and there, usually from their own incompetence, is known in the nearest towns as a man you can rely on and keeps mostly to himself. It suits him just fine. 

“Easy, girl” He soothes Brandy as she tosses her head at a stick on the ground no doubt believing it to be one of her least favourite creatures, a snake. She calms quickly, trusting that her owner would let her know if danger was near.

The cold late autumn sun is dappled through the trees as they ride along the dirt track road. The light hits across his suntanned skin, constellations of freckles stand out next to old scars. He yawns low, bringing a gloved hand to run tiredly through his beard. It’s beginning to get too long for even his liking and while no one will see him once winter hits, the voice in his head that sounds too much like his late mother reminds him that he should look after himself and make himself presentable. Especially if he wants you to take notice. 

The ride is quiet, an hour of birds chirping in the trees and mammals moving through the underbrush. He passes a few riders on the road, nods his head and says a quiet good morning. It’s a good ride, for once he doesn’t find himself reaching for his gun to fend off a particularly wild pack of wolves or a thief intent on stealing his horse. He’s in a pleasant mood when he rides into town. Made even more pleasant by the sight of you taking a quick breath of fresh air outside the small schoolhouse you work at as the small town's teacher. 

He slows Brandy and nods his head at you, “Morning, Miss Y/N.” The bright smile you turn on him is part of the reason you’re one of the few people in town he stops to talk to. He’s not one for chatter, but you warm him up like a blazing fire whenever you turn your gaze on him. You make him want to talk, even if it’s just to please you. 

“Good morning, Mister Moore. Coming to get your winter supplies?” After 2 years of knowing each other, you know his late autumn routine as if it were your own. He is a man of routine and structure, predictable in many ways. 

He nods an affirmative and you smile, he’s never been a chatty one, but the soft brown of his eyes and the pleasant gentleness of his features whenever he interacts with you makes each short conversation a pleasure. You have always been happy to talk for the two of you, even if you secretly wish for him to open up a little more, to crack open that hard outer shell and learn more about him. 

“Well, I shan't keep you...Will you stop into the school on your way out? The children love to hear your stories.” There were two exceptions to the quiet nature that James Moore had, one was with animals especially horses. You had seen him chatter on to Brandy enough to know he was comfortable chatting with animals. Another was with children, whenever he stopped by the schoolhouse he always had a story to tell. Half were true, some exaggerated and the rest no doubt fiction. But the children loved to hear how he’d wrestled a grizzly or caught a salmon with his bare hands. He was good with them too, a gentle giant. His 6ft 4, broad frame could often be found with children hanging off it by the end of the school day, being used as a climbing frame or tree. He was gentle with them, playful, more so than you ever saw him. It was a side you and the children only saw. 

“Well…” He looks to the sky, it’s darkening and he knows he can’t. He wishes he could, but he has to get back before it snows and it seems more and more likely that that will be later today rather than tomorrow. “I can’t, Miss...I’d love too but...the snow looks like it’ll come soon and I have to make sure I get back, ‘m sorry.”

“Of course...have a lovely day…” He’s already half way down the road, nearing the general store by the time you whisper his name, “James…” You watch with longing as he hitches the horse by the store and makes his way inside. 

[sigcy]

We dabble in writing fics, as well! Here’s a slowburn sigcy fic (it’s still a WIP, first posted on AO3) that Mod Cricket and I worked on together. (Content Warning for Violence.) Part One.

 [ Next Part ]

as sweet as the sound

He met her many years ago. When she was still in University-- perhaps shortly thereafter. Her hair was short, bright like her eyes -- yet even brighter was her smile. When he sat down in the audience hall at the convention, He’d merely skimmed over her work she was presenting to them. Some fanciful concept of technology that could heal wounds in moments.

But as the young doctor strode on stage, the quiet, appropriate applause of the scientists and doctors and engineers around him all but melted away. She was young, nervous, naive. She wore a black dress, form-fitting and professional. It had short sleeves, rested at her knees with a flourish of fabric and lace, and a cinched belt of the same color accentuated her features. Her short hair had been half-pulled back, an attempt to make her perhaps look more mature. She was only twenty four. A prodigy in her field of bioscience and engineering.

And while it was not his area of expertise, he couldn’t help but applaud with everyone else.

He listened to her speak. She was Swiss-- he’d recognize that accent anywhere, even as she spoke English to the best of her ability. She spoke first of her upbringing-- what drove her to stand on that stage, in front of the greatest minds of the world. She spoke of the Crisis, and how too many had died. How too many children just like her had lost everything. Her life, her upbringing in a monastery, hidden away like something precious. Growing up so isolated, their only news from an archaic radio. But that it didn’t define her. That she was born to be what she became. She spoke of the caduceus technology that had been her thesis of study. A nanotechnology to amplify a human body’s own healing abilities-- thusly ignoring the human body’s rejection of microscopic robots. It could be produced cheaply, quickly, and even applied in various forms-- a gel, an electromagnetic biometric scanning stream, an IV mixed with other essential fluids. It was remarkable. Groundbreaking. She’d done all her equations correctly. The formulae easily adjusted for a person’s individual biometric need. In the face of the Crisis, and its aftermath, the entire audience hung on the edges of their seats. This would save countless lives and revolutionize battlefield medicine, along with traditional medicine. It would speed healing of an injury that would take weeks, if not months to heal, or otherwise be fatal. A figurative cure for cancer.

Another device to boot-- a suit, hooked in to a cybernetic spine. It allowed combat medics to quite literally fly to where they were needed. Out of harm’s way, or perhaps a momentary distraction long enough to finish off whatever enemy needed to be dealt with. Invasive, perhaps, but Ingenious.

As her presentation went on, and she asked for the backing of researchers around them, he leaned forward ever so slightly, looking around. Gauging the audience. Murmurs abounded, perhaps colleagues deciding yae or nay. He listened to the other scientific minds around him ultimately vote nay-- that more research had to be done. That this was just a child’s pipe dream.

A blonde man in navy blue caught his attention. Decorated with medals.

 Overwatch was here.

And judging by the look on the man’s face, Angela Ziegler was about to get herself an offer. Overwatch was certainly an astounding place to go right after her schooling. Or… She had spoken of her time in that hospital. Perhaps it had been an internship? No, no, no.

He was happy for her. Even if the two had never met, and likely never would. She was brilliant. Capable. Yet there was simply something about her that perplexed him. Even as the event ended with a standing ovation, his prediction of an offer coming true, and the weeks after that passed, he simply couldn’t stop thinking about her.

She was beautiful. Like an angel or cherub descending from some michelangelic painting from the ceiling of a grand, echoing cathedral. Her skin like porcelain, eyes as blue as ice. Hair as light and warm as the noonday sun. Her smile... He regretted not introducing himself and shaking her hand. Even as he secured his own work, and boarded a ship to work not on Earth-- but in space. Aboard a new space station designed by a successful Chinese development and engineering company-- Lijiang Industries.

It would be here that he would work on his own groundbreaking theories. A chance of a lifetime, and more.

  Harnessing Gravity.

Siebren pushed his fancy for the young doctor aside. Whatever his imagination let him want, he had been down that road before. A marriage ended from too much devotion to his work. He knew it was for the best-- she had her whole life ahead of her. He was too far gone.

And so he delved into his work. Days turned to weeks. Weeks to months. Months to years. He stopped paying much attention to the news and other current events streamed from Earth, absorbed in his equations, his thoughts, consumed by his theories. His assistants compiling his work into notes, and from there, his notes published into papers. With that money, it funded further research. Revolve, repeat. A circle of science and funding. He made steady progress. Prototypes of machines gone and by, and finally-- a breakthrough! He was told it wasn’t ready, that more work had to be done. That this would revolutionize space travel if researched correctly. But he hadn’t listened. He’d given his life for this dream. And so he tested the newest prototype himself, afterhours.

 No. No, this wasn’t right.

He saw fire, and ice, and an infinite, crushing nothingness-- a darkness that pulled him in enough that he lost himself. He was floating, and falling, and splitting, and coming together,  and whatever glimpses of people he saw were gone in a flash. There was no time for fear, yet it felt as though he had all the time in the universe. It was a sense of damning calm, as though the universe itself was clicking its tongue at he, the hapless child that happened to make a mark on mother’s freshly painted, star-dotted wall.

His mark. In the shape of an accretion disk, just at his fingertips.