#two steps from triggering the cain instinct

[critterbitter]

Pov: you’re eelektross and while you can’t distinguish individual words of the human lexicon, you sure understand the vibes (and the vibes are not to your favor).

Also an emmet that’s perfectly normal about his joltiks:

[honeypiehotchner]

Devil's Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part eight

You're welcome xx I listened to "Gibson Girl" by Ethel Cain while writing this if that's something you want to do as well

Warnings: SMUT 18+ only pls n thx mwah. where do I begin? this is rough smut, so if you don't like that/find it triggering, do not read!!! face fucking, possibly/definitely dub-con, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it irl pls dear god), Hotch is not kind in this

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Eight: [REDACTED FROM THE RECORD]

The truth was, you didn’t leave.

It wasn’t meant to happen. You meant to drop the flowers at his door if he didn’t answer. Drop them off in his hands if he did. But both ended with you leaving. You knew you could not stay. It wasn’t right. You needed to leave, sleep in your own bed. You knew that was what you needed to do. For yourself. For him, too.

Until he opened the door. Until he saw you. Until he had that same look in his eye that he used to -- that look of hunger, the one that got you two in trouble. The one that had him in your hotel bed, hovering over you, trying to be quiet because Morgan slept next door. 

You saw that look and you knew you were gone. Fighting was useless. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you echoed after he apologized. “You’re forgiven.”

He smiled then, a wild sort of expression. “Come in,” he murmured, nodding his head into the apartment. 

You took the bait. You walked in on your own volition. And he shut the door behind you.

You discarded the flowers on the kitchen counter, next to where his car keys always sat. They sat there that night, next to his cell phone. 

By the time you turned around, Aaron was right there, towering over you, looking down at you in that certain way that made your stomach burn.

Absently, you thought of saying something like, “We shouldn’t…” but Aaron kissed you before you could. He put two fingers under your chin and tilted your head, brought his lips to yours, and your body melted into him.

Your purse dropped to the floor. You stepped out of your shoes. Aaron’s fingers cradled the back of your head, pulling your lips toward him. And once you were like putty in his hands, he started walking you backwards. 

When your ass hit the back of the couch, he prompted you to sit, and he wrapped your legs around him as he leaned over you. He absolutely devoured you, the way he kissed you, and god, you had missed it.

Without warning, he pushed you over the back, until you were sitting upside down on the couch. You giggled, expecting playfulness, and moving to sit up. 

But Aaron walked around the couch, and pressed you back down. You looked up at him with wide eyes. He thought for a moment, then gruffed out an order, “Put your head over the arm of the couch.”

Confused, you did as you were told. As you sat there, tipping your head back, Aaron stared you down. He stood on the other side of the arm, pressing your forehead down. And he started to undo his belt.

When it occurred to you what he wanted to do, you stirred, arousal brewing. Your hand instinctively went to rub your core, and Aaron grabbed your arm.

“Sit on your hands,” he demanded. 

“What?” you almost laughed.

“Do it,” he said. “Now.”

You did as you were told once again, and Aaron went back to taking off his belt. He threw it aside, then unbuttoned his jeans, dragging them down his thighs with his underwear. His cock popped out, already hard, which you knew just from being pressed against him as you made out.

“Open your mouth.” He was all orders tonight, with nothing else. So, you did as you were told. 

You closed your eyes, readying yourself, and it’s good that you did, because Aaron immediately bottomed out in your throat. 

Your body lurched from the sudden intrusion, your eyes shooting open in alarm. Looking up at Aaron, his eyes were closed, head tipped back in bliss. He pulled back enough for you to regain your composure before he sunk deep again, causing your eyes to roll back. You wished you could touch yourself, wondering why you didn’t just, then remembered the look in Aaron’s eyes at just the thought of you disobeying him. The look left no room for arguing. You were to keep your hands under your ass.

The back of your head pressed into the arm of the couch, your neck straining from how far he tilted your head. He fucked with reckless abandon, his groans loud and low. You felt him beginning to twitch and smiled internally with triumph. He missed me just as much, you thought. 

Spit spilled from the corners of your mouth, your throat making obscene noises as Aaron fucked into you. You coughed and thrashed, and Aaron held himself at the back of your throat for a moment longer.

Just as suddenly as he pushed into your throat, he pulled out and told you to get up. You coughed loudly, rolling onto your side. 

Aaron grabbed both your arms and pulled you up, lifting your hands over your head. “Breathe,” he said, watching you. “Take a deep breath.”

You did, eventually calming down. Your arms landed around his neck, lacing your fingers together. Somewhere along the way he had pulled his pants back up enough to walk, but they remained unbuttoned.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” you asked, over the foreplay. It had been too long, and quite frankly, you needed to be fucked. Especially by him.

He smirked. “Turn around.”

“Again?” you joked, but you did it anyway. 

“Pull your shirt over your head.”

You did. He undid your bra, slipping it off your shoulders and tossing it away.

“Take your pants off.”

You did, leaving your panties on just for spite. He noticed. And ripped them off.

“Hey!” you yelled. 

“Shut up,” he chided, one hand squeezing your waist. “Face me.”

You did. You raised an eyebrow. “Do I get to take some clothes off of you now?”

“No,” he whispered, one hand caressing your face, cradling your cheek. “Get on the couch.”

You tilted your head. “Facing…?”

He spun you around and pushed you down, ignoring your squeak from how abrupt it was. You were on all fours, your ass facing him, listening as he pushed his pants down again. Just enough.

You questioned why he wouldn’t let you face him like he used to, but the thought was quickly chased away when he entered you just as hard as he had entered your mouth.

“Fuck!” you screamed, falling onto the pillows immediately. If Aaron heard you, he made no acknowledgment of it. He just kept going.

It was brutal, but you missed it, and your body craved more. You pushed back into him, rocking your hips against him, and he faltered.

His fingers squeezed your hips, the pressure bruising, but you hardly noticed, too fucked with bliss to care. Aaron slammed into you over and over and over. The sounds he made were noises you had never heard before.

You felt it when he started to lose control. He went faster, ignoring your subtle noises he normally would’ve picked up on. Instead, he reach down and grabbed you by the throat, hoisting you up, pressing your back against his chest.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, your body growing limp from the repeated onslaught he forced onto you. And because he’s so good, you were close already. You couldn’t help it.

When you came, Aaron got rougher, chasing his release with no regard for you, using your body in a way that left you conflicted.

He finished inside of you, and you quietly thanked your birth control as you relished in the feeling of his release inside of you. He fucked into you even after he finished, until he was exhausted and you felt like you had left your body.

He lifted his hand from your throat and got off of you, leaving you on the couch, the cushions barely holding you up. He stepped back, chest heaving.

You slowly turned around to sit on the couch, your head still reeling, and you watched as he gathered your clothes -- including your ripped underwear -- and handed them back to you. They sat on a pile in your lap as you stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You need to go,” he said. 

You knew it was coming, but that didn’t make it sting any less. “Can I at least use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, and he walked away from you, almost in a daze. He was somewhere else.

You took your clothes to his bathroom and locked the door. You got dressed with shaky limbs and stared at yourself in the mirror, asking what the fuck are you doing over and over again. This was ridiculous. You were such an idiot for doing this. What the hell was wrong with you?

You glanced at the tub, but did a double-take when you noticed the amount of prescription bottles thrown in there. Upon closer inspection, you see that they’re Jack’s, and you frown. You almost put them back in the medicine cabinet, but decided it was better to not move them.

You flushed the toilet and washed your hands, then ventured back out into his apartment. You heard him talking and sure enough, he was on the phone.

You resigned yourself to waving at him, and he nodded his head. You grabbed your purse and left. Actually left, this time.

[whumpsecretsantaevent]

Secret Santa Gift: @awfulwhumpsideblog

This is a Secret Santa event so there will be a blanket trigger warning for all entries, so read at your own risk! Potential trigger warnings may include nsfw themes as well as gore and possible squicks.

“Hey!”

Leith watched Alaric stop. For a moment there was no movement within the hallway except for the faint flickering of torches that caused shadows to dance across the stone walls. Sounds of excited chatter echoed from outside, the onlookers gossiping about the ongoing jousting tournament, but the silence inside the dimly-lit hall was almost deafening. After a beat Alaric turned around, looking entirely innocent.

“My apologies, but this area is off-limits to the public,” she said smoothly. “If you’re lost, I can have someone escort you—”

“I don’t need an escort,” Leith said sharply. She took a step closer, then another. “My brother. Cain. You know what happened to him, don’t you? Tell me.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Focusing her magic, Leith manifested a vine under the sleeve of her shirt. It coiled out and extended from her hand in warning as she took yet another step closer. “You do. I know you do. And you’re going to tell me.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Alaric said coolly. Her eyes had locked onto the vine, her expression unreadable. 

With a flick of her wrist, Leith sent the vine shooting forward. Alaric barely had time to react before the vine had her pinned to the wall by her shoulders. Leith pressed closer until the two were face to face. Another subtle flex of her hand had magical flames licking up the vine. The fire stopped just short of Alaric’s face, but was still close enough that the crown princess could surely feel the heat. 

“Answer me,” Leith growled. She was losing her patience. “I won’t ask again.”

For a moment, Alaric merely regarded Leith silently. When she spoke, her voice was flat and laced with deadly intent. “Oh, is that how it’s going to be? Well, if you insist.”

Leith didn’t see Alaric move. She just felt the impact to her stomach as Alaric kicked out and sent her tumbling back. The air was knocked out of her lungs, and the shock broke her focus, causing the vine to wither away into nothing. She collided hard with the wall behind her, but managed to keep her footing.

Before Leith could manifest another vine, Alaric was upon her. Hands wrapped around Leith’s throat and began to squeeze. She wheezed as her air supply was suddenly and painfully cut off. Alaric pressed her harshly into the stone wall, her grip firm and unrelenting. A thumb ground into her pulsepoint, and Leith winced.

She had already been winded before Alaric closed the distance, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she would begin to feel the effects of the lack of air. Leith grabbed at one of Alaric’s wrists, but her grip didn’t loosen. With her other hand she summoned another vine, ready to lash out. Taking immediate notice of the vine, Alaric shifted her weight back on her heels and flung Leith to the ground. 

Unable to catch herself, Leith sprawled prone, gasping for the breath that had been denied to her. After a moment she moved to right herself, but a boot came down hard on her left wrist. She grunted and tried to pull away, but Alaric only ground down harder. For a moment there was only pressure. Then the hallway echoed with a resounding crack, and Leith cried out as her wrist buckled.

Pain laced up and down her arm, most severe at her wrist. Her fingers instinctively spasmed, but the movement only intensified the agony. There was no doubt in her mind that her wrist was broken. And as Alaric shifted her weight and the pain got even stronger, Leith worried that it might have been broken in more than one place.

This wasn’t going as she had planned. She had been hoping to get in, learn what she needed from Alaric, and go from there, but she hadn’t accounted for Alaric’s capabilities. And evidently Alaric was no pushover. It seemed this was going to be more difficult than she anticipated.

Shutting her eyes and gritting her teeth, Leith whipped her other hand back and blindly shot up another vine. When she felt it impact, she wasted no time in setting it ablaze. Leith heard a soft sound of alarm and feet shuffling back as the weight on her wrist lifted. Letting the vine wither away, she pressed her good hand into the stone and pulled her legs back under her to push onto her hand and knees. She cradled her injured wrist next to her chest, wincing as every slight movement aggravated the damaged joint.

A shadow fell over her vision. Leith looked up to see Alaric once again standing over her, She met Alaric’s impassive expression with a scowl. Then Alaric shifted her weight, and her boot collided hard with Leith’s stomach. She gasped as the air was knocked from her lungs and she was sent sprawling to the ground once again.

For a moment she just lay there on her side, dazed. Her stomach ached where Alaric had kicked it, and her lungs protested her orders to expand with breath. What air she was able to draw in burned in her throat and caused her to cough roughly. Luckily she had managed to keep her injured wrist protected when she went down again, though the pain hadn’t lessened in its intensity.

Alaric crouched down in front of her. There was no warmth or mercy in her green eyes, only cold, cruel intent. She reached over and knotted her fingers into Leith’s hair. Leith barely had time to register the strain on her scalp before she was wrenched up and to the side. Her vision whited out and the back of her skull erupted into pain as Alaric slammed her head into the stone wall. Not giving her any time to regain her composure, Alaric repeated the action, and Leith wasn’t able to stop a yelp of pain from escaping her lips. 

After several moments the white burst of pain faded somewhat. Leith was still reeling— her vision was blurry and the world was tilting— but she could still identify the blue-clad woman who knelt in front of her and gripped her hair tightly. She scowled and reached for her magic, hoping to lash out with another vine and get Alaric off of her. But as dizzy as she was, she wasn’t able to get it formed and aimed as quickly as normal. And in a battle, swiftness was everything. 

Taking advantage of the opening created by Leith’s sluggishness, Alaric reared back and struck Leith with a punch in the cheek. Then came another, and another, and with a crunch Leith felt her nose give way under one of the blows. She finally was able to focus her magic and lash out with the vine, swinging wildly, and was relieved to hear a thump as Alaric fell back.

She gingerly lifted her right hand to her face. Her fingers were met with the unmistakable warm slickness of blood, and her nose was out of place and hurt to touch. A broken nose to go with her broken wrist, then. The blurriness to her vision had cleared somewhat, at least, but she still felt as though she was spinning even though she wasn’t moving at all. Now, though, her sight and thoughts were clear enough to track Alaric as she got up from where she had been knocked down several feet away and stalked closer until she loomed over Leith once again.

Several things happened in quick succession. Alaric brought her foot up, seemingly aiming to bring it down on one of Leith’s legs. In turn, Leith lit her vine aflame and coiled it in front of herself protectively. 

And, somewhere outside of the hallway they were in, a bell tolled loudly.

Alaric froze. Leith took the opportunity to whip her flaming vine forward, but couldn’t quite aim properly given her dizziness, and Alaric was able to neatly sidestep it. The princess let her momentum carry her several feet further backwards, putting a decent distance between her and Leith.

“Ah, it seems as though the tournament proceedings are about to resume,” she said. Her voice sounded entirely unruffled, as though she hadn’t just been in the middle of a fight. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me. I need to oversee things.”

“Wait!” Leith made to get to her feet, and unthinkingly put weight on her left hand in an effort to push herself upright. The pressure was agony on her wrist, and she groaned and collapsed back down, though her eyes never left Alaric. “My brother—”

Alaric reached into her pocket and took out what appeared to be a handkerchief. She idly wiped it over her knuckles as she gazed impassionately at Leith. “Like I said earlier, I don’t have anything to say to you. I recommend against asking about him again.” She slipped the handkerchief back into her pocket and turned on her heel. “Good day.”

With that, Alaric walked briskly down the hallway, turned a corner, and was gone.

There was a long moment where Leith merely stared at the spot where Alaric had disappeared. Just like that, the princess was beyond her grasp. All the effort that Leith had put into finding a time she would be able to catch the princess alone and get the information she needed, and what did she have to show for it? Multiple injuries, and the impression that Alaric had found the entire event almost exhilarating more than anything.

Nothing to do about it now, though. There would be other chances to find out what happened to her brother. At this point, she had to make her exit; if someone found her, especially in the state she was in, she would be in even more trouble. With the tournament about to restart, there should be enough activity to cover her departure, so long as she acted quickly.

She slowly eased herself to her feet. Her stomach still ached where Alaric kicked it, and the bending required to get up made her wince. The world lurched when she was upright, and she had to place her right hand on the wall to steady herself. After a moment the bout of dizziness faded and she pulled her hand away from the wall to wipe at the blood oozing from her nose. It didn’t seem to be bleeding too badly, at least, but she still grimaced at the smear on her hand. Hopefully it wouldn’t attract too much attention.

That just left her wrist; she couldn’t properly treat it now, but she didn’t want to leave it as it was while she was on the move. She gingerly rolled up her sleeve and summoned another vine, although this one was much thinner than the ones she used in combat. It wound around her wrist, forming a makeshift brace that would keep the joint relatively straight while she traveled. The touch and pressure of the vine on her wrist intensified the pain for a moment before it settled again, causing Leith to bite her lip to suppress a groan. It was far from ideal— vines were hardly the sturdiest material— but it would do until she could figure out something more effective.

Another bell rang out. Leith winced as the sound deepened the pain in her skull. The tournament was resuming in earnest, now, so it was time she made herself scarce. Rolling down her sleeve and flipping up her hood, Leith slipped back into the shadows. Other than a faint smear of blood on the wall, it was as if she was never there.

[goneseriesanalysis]

Sam Temple

Ok, so I’m going to start by working through my opinions on the different characters of the series before I delve into other topics such as representation and plot. Here are my opinions on your main man Sam (I’ve only re-read Gone so far and will be doing a new one for each of the books). 

Also I feel like this goes without saying, but just in case: Spoiler warning for Gone down below

Original Opinion: I thought Sam was a boring protagonist with little to no personality asides from surfing and being ‘in love’ with Astrid.

New Opinion: While I still think Sam is an underdeveloped protagonist, I enjoyed his character much more than I remember, and have more thoughts on him than I realised. 

1.) SAM’S APPEARENCE AND CHARACTER: We get some indication of who Sam is, and his role in the story, in the first chapter. He describes himself as sticking “to jeans and understated t-shirts, nothing that drew to much attention to himself.” While this description is reflective of Sam’s reluctance to become a leader later in the books, it kind of reminds me of every boring protagonist of every ya book/film/tv show ever. It’s a little cliché and as soon as I read this I groaned out loud and prepared myself for the most basic protagonist to ever grace the page. 

 We then get a little insight into his personality and his relationship with the citizens of Perdido Beach:

“everybody knew who he was, but few people were quite sure what he was.”

“He was a surfer who didn’t hang out with surfers. He was bright but not a brain. He was good-looking, but not so that girls thought of him as a hottie.”

We get the idea that Sam is the underdog. Nobody really knows him, but they all expect him to be there when something goes wrong. This is a really good indictor for his role in the rest of the story, but the description still gives us almost no insight into who Sam is as a person. The best word I can think of to describe his personality is ‘protagonist’ - he could have been so much more if he had been given just a little bit more development. 

The next paragraph explains the school bus incident, where we again get absolutely no information on his personality. It’s almost as if Michael forgot that the hero had to be an actual person too. We get told that Sam has one heroic moment and then goes back to being his normal self, but what is his normal self?? I still have no idea. 

We get some more description of Sam when Caine is introduced in Chapter 14 “He had dark hair and dark eyes, not much different from Sam himself” - and this is reiterated by Astrid in Chapter 38 “Astrid was struck by how alike the two boys looked superficially.”                                                                                     “Where Caine hid his arrogance and cruelty behind a smooth, controlled surface, Sam let his emotions play out on his face.” But even here we still get very little idea as to what he actually does look like, a weak point I have noticed in Michael’s writing is his vague descriptions. I do really like Astrid’s comment on how they display their respective emotions. Sam’s strength in morality, his lack of deception, is also a weak point in his leadership - he is too easy to read and therefore manipulate (this isn’t really shown in this book but I remember this becoming apparent with the town council). Caine’s weakness in morality saves him from this weakness but leaves him open to betrayal and mistrust (and rightfully so). 

2.) SAM’S HOME: We next get to see Sam’s house in Chapter 3, which is described as being a “small squashed-looking one-story house with a tiny, fenced backyard and no real front yard.” From this description, and other information throughout the book, we get the idea that Sam and his mother are relatively poor. However, I would prefer to have been shown this instead of being told. Sam’s monetary situation never seems to affect his decisions and opinions which is a little disappointing as, from someone who has grown up poor, I know that it is something that really does affect your whole worldview. The only indicator we get that this situation has affected Sam in any way, is his comment on how wasteful the kids are being with food during the first night at the plaza - but he never actually acts on this - that job falls to Caine and later Albert.

It would have been interesting to explore how Sam could have reacted to Caine’s wealthy upbringing as opposed to his own. Them both being jealous of each other’s lives for different reasons (Caine for his lack of parental love, Sam for his lack of financial security) would have added depth to their relationship as well as Sam’s character. I’m also interested to see how Sam reacts to Albert basically reinstating capitalism in later books. As I remember, he was never overly opposed to it, but it will be interesting to see if his reaction is a direct result of his childhood.

3.) SAM’S FEAR OF THE DARK: This is plot point that is introduced to establish Sam’s powers, and it doesn’t have any other relevance in the story. This is disappointing as, with the final villain being nicknamed “the darkness” it could have been a really poetic and fitting ending for Sam to conquer both his innate fear and the villain at the same time. However as I remember it (possible spoilers for fear and light), Sam has very little to do with Gaia - Gaia mostly interacting with Diana, Caine, Drake and Lana. His ability to produce light in order to counter act this fear is a really nice inclusion though, and reflects how Sam’s leadership is a safety net to those living in the FAYZ. 

4.) SAM MOTIVATIONS: We first get an idea of what it is that motivates Sam when he talks about attacking Tom in Chapter 13, “I thought he was trying to hurt my mom.” Sam’s powers are triggered by fear, his first instinct is to protect those that he loves, and he will resort to violence if it is necessary. This idea is shown again when Sam steps in to protect Bette. His first instinct is to de-escalate the situation (and, interestingly, he looks to Howard to help him with this), but, when that fails, he resorts to violence. I really like this inclusion as it gives insight into Sam’s basic motivations and also explains how he was so quickly willing to murder Drake after Drake went after Astrid. Sam’s attack on Tom is heavily reflective of Sam’s relationship with Drake in the first book - Sam burning Tom’s hand foreshadows him burning Drake’s arm. 

One thing that bothers me with this scene, however, is that Sam shows little to no emotion when talking about his stepfather - and this is never expanded on. It seems out of character for Sam, one of the kindest characters in the book, to feel almost nothing towards his stepfather, and with no explanation as to why this might be. We get no indication of their relationship prior to the incident, which would have been a good chance to further develop Sam. 

Later in the book, when Tom is brought up again Sam says that he felt a rush “I thought, oh, my God, look at the power I have.” - And this again is never expanded on. Sam’s main fault is his unwillingness to shoulder the responsibility of being a leader, and he never really experiences a corruption of power in the way that this line hints. I think Michael may have just added this is to highlight the differences between Sam and Caine, but it feels out of character, especially seen as it is never brought up again (at least in this book, I can’t remember if this is featured later on in the series) 

5.) SAM’S POWERS: I mentioned before how Sam’s powers are first introduced to us through the flashback to Tom and his fear of the dark. But the first time we actively see him use them in the book is during The Fire and later at the powerplant. During both of these situations, Sam is unable to fully control his power and can only summon them through fear. His core motivation is to protect rather than attack. I also find it interesting that Sam is technically the first person to kill someone in the FAYZ, but I don't really have anything else to say about it :/

The first time we see Sam voluntarily use his powers in in Chapter 28, when Astrid manipulates him into using his anger instead of his fear. I find this interesting, because, despite the change in emotion, Sam’s motivation largely remains the same. The use of his power here comes from his anger at Drake having hurt Astrid, his anger that he wasn’t there to protect her. 

This then changes in chapter 33, when Sam seems to gain full control over his powers. This time, when he summons his anger he focuses on his mother. I have a few issues with this. Firstly, Sam gaining control of his powers seems rushed for plot convenience, especially when you compare him to Caine, who was more willing to use his powers and yet took months to master them?? Is this a hint that, if Sam were willing to go as far as Caine, he would be the more powerful one - or is it just lazy writing?? It seems that Sam and his powers were pushed aside for other storylines, which is troubling considering he is the main character. The other thing that bothers me about this scene is that Sam’s anger at his mother is not further developed (are you noticing a theme??) It would have been nice if this had come up again properly in the poof scene.

The poof scene would have been an excellent scene to develop Sam’s character, instead, for me, it fell flat. We don’t get much perception into Sam’s thoughts other than that his first instinct is to reach out to his mother, but this provides us with very little indication about who he is as we know that this has also been every other child’s first instinct. Him being the first one to refuse is indicative of his strength and hints that the anger he felt at his mother was more than a fleeting emotion, but it would have been nice to go into more depth on his feelings about his mother and Caine. A strong, emotionally charged verbal stand-off where Sam and Caine both vent their feelings towards their mother/the gaiphage would have been an excellent ending to the big fight - as Sam’s true strength is his compassion as opposed to his use of his powers. This could have also had a fantastic payoff in later books, where Gaia could have used this moment against the boys. 

6.) WHAT MAKES SAM A HERO:  I’ve already mentioned that Sam’s main strength is his kindness and compassion, which is nice to see - especially in a male protagonist (whether this continues in later books I can’t remember). His adversity to becoming the leader is his biggest weakness, as it often prevents him from doing the right thing in time sensitive situations. I found that this line from chapter 11 nicely sums this idea up “In a closet off the main room he found a grey-green military shirt, many sizes too large.” - possibly referring the idea that Sam is not ready to become the leader/ hero just yet. His hesitance, his insecurities, making him unfit to lead as of yet. Also nicely reminds you how he is just a child.

Then, there are multiple moments throughout the book where Sam is just shown to be the sweetest person and these are my two favourites:

“I’m not supposed to cross the street. // It’s ok. I’ll watch while you do, ok?” - Chapter 5

“Astrid, tell me if this is crazy: I’m thinking if there are any leftovers, we could send them up to Coates.” - Final

The reason people follow him is because in a world where he could be anything, where the old rules just don’t apply anymore, he still chooses to be kind and honestly I love him for it. His line  “It is our world. So let’s make it a good one” contrasts Diana’s line “We didn’t make this world, we’re just the poor fools who are living in it.” And really just highlights how good he is. He deserves so much more credit than he gets from the ungrateful cretins whose lives he saves on a daily basis. I just wish Michael had developed him further past being the protagonist. 

Another fantastic Sam moment is the bit where he escapes from the collapsed apartment building. If you are ever re-reading the series and wondering why Sam is the protagonist, please just read this moment again and tell me you don’t get chills

“Diana tripped backwards from the blow and sat down hard on the stone steps.

Caine could see her face with a sudden, terrible clarity by the glow of a brilliant column of blinding, green-white light.

That light could only have one source.

He lights was light a spear aimed at the sky. It arced upwards from the midst of the rubble of the apartment building.

‘No,’ Caine said.” Chapter 45

7.) OTHER:

These are just a couple of things I noticed, but can’t really make an infirmed point about

Is Sam’s light being green a reference to the gaiphage, or just a random addition??

I noticed that the first few freaks we learn about other than Sam just have a variation of his power. Is this lazy writing or does it have some significance that I missed??

So there are my opinions on Sam from the first book. I’m sorry that this was so long but I have just so many thoughts. I think I’m going to do separate posts for Astrid, Caine, Diana and Drake and then I’ll pair up the others before moving onto relationships, representation and my likes/ dislikes. 

Thank you so much if you read this, and please feel free to give me your own opinions and interpretations :) 

[cleverbxrd]

What Were You Expecting?

WHO: Dick Grayson / @cxrcusbxrd​ , Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd / @rxdshood​ , Ra’s al Ghul MENTIONED: Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Talia al Ghul WORD COUNT: 4,141 LOCATION: Ra’s’ current evil hidey-hole THE BASICS:  Two Birds (and a Bat) walk into a secret League of Assassins base... TW: Comic/Action Movie Level Violence, Slight Trauma, Injury, Murderous Intent, Past Death Mention, Deus Ex Grayson

DICK: None of this was easy. Nothing about having to rescue a member of their family, their little dysfunctional clan, was remotely easy. It had taken them this long to even find out a possible place where Tim had been taken to, and even then something felt very off. Maybe it was uncharted territory, maybe it was the fact that he'd told Jason to lead the charge alone, call him over com if he couldn't find anything. The seconds were ticking away, and he wasn't keeping as strict a timer as he felt he should. Nightwing was currently on lookout duty, guarding their secretly made entryway into the compound, looking out for what he could only assume were ninja, assassins, that Ra's had employed on monitor duty. No one in or out, sounded on par. Luckily he hadn't run into anyone he needed to crack the skulls of, but even that put him on edge. It was like the Demon's Head was just waiting for them. If Steph hadn't been enough of a warning, this eerie silence while he waited for his younger brother's call... Ah Hell, Jason wasn't going to get back to him, not like this. Guy was probably looking for the source. Who could blame him? They were all reckless, very much to their own faults. If they wanted to be smart about this, though, they couldn't take the direct path to the one who started it all. Maybe a crash-course in their strategy would've been effective. Dick had to stop himself in his mental tracks. Relinquishing lead was hard, but he trusted Jason, trusted his instincts. They'd both been trained by the same guy... So why was he so damn nervous?

Maybe it was the fact that he felt someone's eyes on him in the fraction of a second he'd had a momentary panic about weather or not they were approaching this entire situation correctly (and really, who's going to say if it was right or wrong? Sometimes you have to call a shit-ton of audibles). Dick's white-lensed eyes squinted into the darkness, a hairline trigger activating infrared to see if he could really find who he was sure was watching him, watching them. It didn't take long before he reached behind his shoulders to pull the electrified escrima sticks from his back, settling into an all too familiar low defensive stance. If there was one thing he was sure of he wasn't going to take this impromptu mission any less seriously than his more 'normal', less paranoia-inducing ones. I'm getting my brother back.

"I know you're out there," He finally called out, the weapons crackling to life with charged light, just barely illuminating the small area that he stood his ground. "Show yourself!"

BRUCE: The boys were doing what the boys did, ignore his orders and get themselves into trouble. It was an old song and dance by now, one he had hoped they already knew the steps to, though he supposed that their urgency, their panic, blinded them to the inevitability of it all. 

Did they truly think they would go on a rescue mission without him finding out? That he would really allow them to charge headfirst into Ra’s hands without him having a say in it? He didn’t know if that reflected poorly on him or proved that as grown as they were his sons were all still boys in the end. 

Bruce perched atop the roof, his brow furrowed underneath his cowl as his planted device hummed, an EMP knocking out the motion sensors throughout the grounds before the bat took a running leap to glide closer to his target, Dick. 

He landed with a dull thud, his jaw clenched as he stood to his full height. 

“You’re jumpy,” Bruce said simply, his attention turning to the ‘Thwip’ of two guards being lifted and secured behind Dick’s back, “and sloppy. I was under the impression you two were conducting a stealth mission.”

DICK: Ah. Shit.

Hi dad. Er, second dad. The dad that didn't bother to adopt him officially until he'd been well past Ward status.

Still, the familiar sight of a bat-eared cowl did nothing to prevent the squinted lenses from narrowing further, the stance he'd taken relaxing only a fraction. He was still on edge, still on high alert. Bruce was good, as he always was, and caught him off guard. Sloppy.

He didn't need to be told twice, less-than-happy flashbacks of hours on hours of training popping in and out of subconsious memory... this wasn't the time to be reminiscing on weather or not you actually wanted to give the old man the argument of a lifetime. 

"It was," Nightwing sighed, absently twirling one of the lightened sticks in his hand. "But something tells me it's a bit hard to be stealthy against literal ninja." Assassins, same difference. Squaring his blue-lined shoulders, the former sidekick faced his mentor with a grimace. "How the hell did you find us, Bruce?"

BRUCE: Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes at Dick's tense posture. He was glad he was on guard, they always had to be in these situations, but a bigger part of him wanted to scold him for following Jason into this suicide mission without backup, without him. 

Tim was his ward, his robin, his son. He needed to be here. 

For more reason than one, given the boys lack of forethought. 

He simply hummed in acknowledgement. He could dissect their plan at a later date. Tonight was about getting their boy back. 

"There are trackers imbedded into the fabric of your suit." He answered plainly. Dick didn't need to know about the trackers he had on Jason, nor the ones he had in the very sticks he held in his hands. A bat needed some secrets, after all.

"Come on, there are guards to the north that we need to clear out for our escape route."

DICK: Maybe it was the fact that he'd been on edge ever since Tim had gone missing without a trace. Maybe it was years of pent up aggression that he'd never fully let himself come to term with. Maybe it was the fact that he was still being treated like a sidekick. There were reasons Dick had made the jump to Bludhaven, then New York; He had to get out of The Shadow. Easier said than done, apparently

"Track-?" The hushed word fell short as his eyes suddenly went wide, looking down at the no-doubt invisibly weaved nanotech. God damnit, Bruce. "... You..." Seething, he hissed through clenched teeth instead of finding the right word. Of course he would've slipped up on that minor detail in his blind rage, the sudden need he had to bring his brother out here and bring Ra's to justice. No doubt, he was getting a full mission report after this, as if it wasn't his own, Jason's own, mission to carry out. 

Still... Having one of the best in the biz probably wasn't the worst thing in the world. With the Batman, this mission could take less time than he was sure it would've taken them. Hell, he hadn't heard the signal yet. With a bit of time, he was sure he'd hear that familiar tweet. He really hoped so anyway. 

"Fine," Nightwing huffed, semi-reluctantly dropping his head. "You'd better be prepared. This creep's been waiting for this for ages."

~~~

JASON: There was something unnerving about any and all League bases to Jason. It made his skin crawl and feel the urge to turn tail and run as fast as he could away. A child turned into a weapon, blood staining hands that couldn't be washed away now. Some for people deserving of it, some for those perhaps that didn't, but it was too late to try to attempt to feel remorse now. If he even did at all. It was apart of him now, a way of life he had come to accept and wasn't something he shied away from. Memories from this part of his life were broken at best, flashes of memories he could vaguely recall. Hands around the throat of someone he had been ordered to kill, the offense unclear, but the order firm, the anxiety bubbling up. Too intimate, too much, too close. Finishing the job and resolutely deciding silently from then on killing from a distance was mandatory. Maybe there was some psychology behind Jason's decision to choose guns as his primary choice of a weapon, but that wasn't something he ever really wanted to get into. 

For now, Jason had to push away the anxiety and insistent jagged memories to push forward, steel himself to do what he came to do. Save Tim, bring Tim home. Dick had told him to lead the charge, be the leader for once. Jason hadn't really known what to do with that other than take the reigns and push forward, take the information they knew and act. It had been long enough, far too long, and they were getting their little brother back. 

Things were quiet. Too quiet. It only added to the anxiety that stayed firmly building in Jason's chest he refused to show, thankful for the helmet that hid any and all facial expressions that might slip through the ever so diligent Bat training. Winding halls and diverting from any potential hiccups. Naturally, a few heads were knocked together, silencer on his gun as he shot to take incapacitate—not kill. No matter how much he wanted to put the bullet through the assassins' eyes rather than a knee. 

Inching further along, Jason got to where he intended. Not Tim, no. Ra's al Ghul. "Love what you've done with the place, Ra's. A lot more spooky chic than you had before. I'm sure Talia would hate it." The younger man hummed, a few quick shots sending the remaining assassins in the room sprawling out on the floor. "Don't worry, nothing a few surgeries can't do to fix them right up. Or do you prefer to put them down? Memory's a bit spotty from when I was here last time." He sneered under the helmet, gun trained on the man in question now—though silently he was unsure if this was a genius plan or completely idiotic. Probably the latter. 

"My brother. I want him back. I'm not leaving without him."

RA’S: Ra's was no fool. He hadn't expected the Bat clan to simply roll over and accept that Timothy was out of their reach now. Many of Bruce Wayne's children had ended up under Ra's care over the years, before or after meeting the billionaire: Jason, Damian, Stephanie, Cassandra. 

One would think that eventually, Bruce would get better at keeping them out of his hands. But getting to Tim had been easy. 

Keeping him was bound to be a bit trickier, so Ra's had called in some reinforcements. One could never be too careful. Loading the board visibly wouldn't be much of a deterrent but would show his hand, so instead Ra's had kept the halls of this hideaway under their normal guard--at least, as far as could be seen. Timothy was locked away deeper into the complex , accompanied by a handful of men under orders to put a bullet in the boy's head before letting him be taken back. 

He'd never professed not to be possessive. 

Jason came charging into the chamber where Ra's was waiting, and the ancient assassin didn't even blink as his men dropped with groans around him. Nor was he particularly bothered by having a gun leveled at his face. 

"Well, since you're asking--yes, I would prefer you aim for their heads in the future. Saves me the work," Ra's answered calmly, taking a step in Jason's direction. The man's demand earned an amused scoff. "Ah. Well, then, I'm afraid you won't be leaving. Timothy will be staying with me. You're welcome to request visits." Ra's smiled, icily. "I do so miss having you around, al'ahmar. You were very entertaining." Ra's reached up to his own throat, unclasping his cape and laying it over a chaise in passing. 

"Now, where is your father? I do prefer dealing with the one in charge. Smoothes the process. And I know they didn't trust you to run it, not their little stray bird."

Ra's smirked. "Did Grayson tell you, by the way? That you and dear Timothy have a new shared experience?"

JASON: Jason always could feel the oncomings of his pit rage. It had taken a good few years to be able to do just that. At first, it was uncontrollable. He lashed out at so many of the men that worked for Talia and destroyed a hotel room once in a fit of rage upon finding out he had been replaced. Now his said replacement was someone he considered his little brother and wouldn't be leaving without. If he wouldn't be leaving then so be it. As long as Tim left. 

Jason snarled under the helmet and could feel the haze creeping forward in his head, if his eyes were visible he was sure they'd flash an even more eery shade of green than they had been changed to from the pit effects. Every word that left Ra's mouth only fueled and poked at the fire. "He's not my father," a reflect, venom dripping from the four words. "You get me. No big bat or other birds to play babysitter. I don't do so well without supervision, I hear." 

Jason didn't see red. No, he saw green, and in an instant he surged forward and whipped the gun across the older man's face. He shoved it back into his thigh holster as his other gloved hand closed around Ra's throat. He wanted his blood to paint the walls, to see him choke on his own blood and die slowly. The urge to do what he could to finish him clawed at his chest violently. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking watch you choke on your blood and step on your throat to make it even more agonizing. To put you in a fucking body bag would be a goddamn dream come true!"

RA'S: Jason was so very easy to get under the skin of. He had died scared and angry and came back scared and angrier, the former beaten out until all that was left was rage. Ra's knew better than anyone else on Earth what the Pit could do to the mind, the way its haze could seep through the mind and obscure all but the urge to tear people apart. He'd had centuries to adjust. 

Jason had not--he was a constantly ticking time bomb. And Ra's enjoyed prodding at him to set him off. "Oh, my. You still hold a grudge about being replaced, and yet you're here to retrieve your replacement. Interesting choice. But then, you never were the bright one."

It was, of course, the mention of what he'd done to Timothy that set the man off fully, and even Ra's had to concede that Jason was fast. The blow to the face stung, but Jason shoved his gun away as quickly as it'd come out, opting for more up-close fighting. 

Poor choice. 

Ra's let the man tighten his grip, brought both arms up between them so his forearms were against the man's shoulders, and then hooked his leg around Jason's and pushed, sending them both to the ground. 

He snapped an arm up to deliver a sharp elbow to the chin, and then used the momentum to snap the same arm back against the one with the grip on his throat, hitting the crook of Jason's elbow to loosen his hold. 

"You know better than to think you can beat me, let alone kill me, al'ahmar. But I won't deny the pleasure of a fight if that's what you insist on--it'd bring me no greater pleasure than to have Bruce Wayne know that I took you from him again. One more dip in the Pit, and maybe the madness doesn't stay back." His own eyes flared with that poisonous shade of green. 

"You won't kill me, even if you could. He'd be dead before you ever got your hands on him."

JASON: Jason's head jerked up and he tasted blood immediately, likely from biting down on his tongue. The minor pain was nothing compared to the burn that was spreading through him as he fell into his Pit induced rage. His arm buckled, fingers loosening around Ra's' throat. That only served to piss him off further. He was literally rolling in the dirt with Ra's al Ghul. His life was a joke, but whatever the cost. He'd get Tim out of this. Even if he didn't—

"I didn't know you were in the business of making balloon animals now, al Ghul. You're taking credit for a clown's handiwork. Do you prefer Boo Boo the Fool or Chuckles?" Jason spat out through the voice modulator of his helmet, bringing a knee up to connect with any body part he could reach, gain some traction. Maybe he wasn't the best at hand to hand combat compared to the other birds, but he wasn't bad at it by any means. He also had size on his side, more muscles and height than the others did to use to his advantage.

The hand that loosened from Ra's throat snapped up to shove palm up at his nose hard and fast, disorient him any way he could. "Maybe I won't, but I do know I'll make it hurt like hell before you can even think to get your grubby paws on him again. Where do you prefer your stab wounds? You know what? I'll surprise you!" In the scuffle of their bodies, Jason whipped his knife out of his belt and slashed at his torso.

RA'S: A clown?  Really.  Ra's felt his anger ratchet up another notch at the mockery, hissing out between his teeth as Jason's knee collided with his ribs.  The younger man wasn't much for technique, but he was strongly built, and even stronger when the Pit started pressing its way forward.  Ra's could take blows from your average man with barely a shrug, but Jason, despite not being particularly skilled as Grayson and Damian were, could land some stinging blows.

"He put you down the first time," Ra's grunted, just barely managing to avoid the blow at his nose, "but I'll be happy to do it the second go round.  But I took you from Bruce in the ways that matter, didn't I?  Seeing you dead was one thing, seeing you a killer was another.  Does he still look at you like you're someone else?"

Jason's threats were nothing.  What was pain to a man who'd lived as many lifetimes as Ra's, who'd been hurt and killed and brought back more times than he cared to count?  Ra's would always come back.  Jason Todd would die and stay dead the next time he went down.  Jason grabbed at a knife, swiped at his side, and the blade sliced through cloth and skin like it was so much paper, even as Ra's started to roll off the man.  The ancient assassin snarled, and drew a dagger of his own as he got to his feet, ignoring the crimson that started to paint the side of his robes.  His own eyes were the same poisonous green as Jason's now, the Pit rearing to the forefront at the drawing of blood.  "The only one who can set your brother free is me, Todd.  My men will end his life before you get a foot through the door if I don't give the order.  And you think you can make me?  You're even stupider than I gave you credit for."

JASON: The younger man was entirely too thrilled in seeing the old man get irritated by his poking and prodding. Jason knew one of his assets was his ability to piss people off purely by speaking. Maybe it was reckless to get the already rage filled man angry, but it was his job after all. He was only doing what he was supposed to, lead the charge. If that had some consequences...oh well. At least they'd be getting Tim back. He wasn't leaving until they did.

The words had Jason biting his tongue, the blow landing as he was sure it was intended. He practically snarled. "What can I say? I've always been the black sheep of the family. Even before the whole 'Jason, this isn't the way!' shtick he was on." He pushed himself to his feet and flipped his knife in his hand, letting out a pleased chuckle to see the red staining the assassin's robes. "I'm sure you can get that out with a little scrubbing. Nothing a little elbow grease can't do. You do know how to do that, right? Manual labor?" Even with the helmet, he was visibly bored. He was angry, but then again, he was always angry. He was good at putting a front, lying was easy, especially for a bat. Might as well poke and prod some more while he was at it. 

The stupid remark made Jason's jaw tic and he only laughed. "I didn't need to make you do anything, al Ghul. I just had to distract you." There was a pause and Jason let out a Robin call, the signal to Dick. The signal all Robins knew. "How's it feel being played by someone you think is stupid?" He sneered and immediately pushed forward, slashing out with his knife once more.

RA'S: The jab seemed to land as intended, judging by the moment of silence that preceded the sharp-toned reply lobbed his way. It had never been hard to get under Jason's skin, and it certainly wasn't hard now that the Pit ran through his veins. 

Unfortunately, that same Pit had amped up Jason's speed, too. Ra's glowered at the taunts. "Don't you condescend to me, boy. You know nothing of work." Ra's took a step closer, feinted for a stab at the man's side before swiping for his throat beneath the helmet. 

I just had to distract you. Ra's eyes narrowed for a moment before he recognized what the call was, and then he sneered, retreating back as his gaze flicked around the room for evidence of the imminent arrival of the rest of the little flock. "Needed a babysitter after all, did we, Todd? Wise of them not to trust you to manage this yourself. Now why don't you go run along while I deal with the grown ups, hm?"

DICK:  "Who're you calling grown up?" 

The quip was too easy to let loose, even though every bone in his body refused to add any humor behind it. The blue bird stood just behind Jason, hidden partially in the shadows while he approached the apparently on-going fight. He was putting a stop to that, stopping the recklessness of his younger brother... From doing exactly what he would be doing too. "You're pretty twisted if you think both of us wouldn't come for Tim, Ra's." Not to mention the big bad Bat doing all the hard work in the background. Granted, he'd upped security tenfold for this kind of invasion. Clearly, they didn't keep quiet about their invasion. That would be something they'd be scolded for later... Well, himself, mostly. Just one look out of the corner of his eye looked like Jason would be laid up in Alfred's infirmary for a bit... And he didn't even want to think about how bad Tim had it.

"Don't even think about following me," Dick sneered, the white lenses of his mask thinning in his hard squint, moving to hook an arm quickly around the back of Jason's shoulders, attempting to not topple over from the sudden transfer of weight. He was hit that was for sure now. He didn't have time to assess, but they needed to get back to Gotham stat. The glowing stick in one hand, he tapped the non-electrified end against his hip, two black marbles bouncing onto the floor. Without looking down, the vigilante placed his heel on top of the two, drawing his teeth back in a final animalistic sneer. "And don't fuck with my family." 

Just the barest transfer of weight had the two spheres busting open under his foot, thick smoke filling the area where the two Robins once stood. Dick was sure this was one of the oldest 'ninja' tricks in the book, that they'd be easily tracked, but that would have to wait for worrying later. It took adrenaline and effort, but he was running with the intent to save. This time, he wouldn't be stopped.

No Robins left behind, he thought, breaching through to the rendezvous point, nearly letting tears loose when he saw the other retrieved bird being hoisted into transport. Never again.

[yoursummerfrost]

Hogwarts House Sorting: Lucifer Characters

After hemming and hawing for weeks, I finally decided to commit to making this character analysis. I’ll be using the @sortinghatchats​ system of house sorting because I really love how much nuance it allows for!

You can find excellent explanations of the system on their blog, but a brief explanation for the un-initiated: Primary houses explain WHY a person does things. Secondary houses explain HOW they do them. Frequently, people may model another house, meaning they borrow that system or approach, but will fall back on their “true” house when the chips are down. Additionally, people can lose touch with their house(s) in a process called burning/falling/petrifying/stripping. Without further ado, here we go! Sortings under the cut. [Spoilers through Season 4].

LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR. I’ll start with Lucifer’s secondary, which I think is more straightforward. Our chaotic Devil is a Slytherin secondary through-and-through. He’s at his best when he’s improvising by charming other people, waltzing into a drug dealers’ home base, or paying off a traffic cop. While he can look like a charging Gryffindor or a favor-dealing Hufflepuff, these are ultimately tools that Lucifer uses to be a more effective Slytherin.

At first glance, Luci looks like a Slytherin primary, too. However, I actually think our titular Devil is a burned Hufflepuff primary who resorted to modelling Slytherin when he Fell. In fact, Luci’s character arc over the course of the show is to un-burn, a journey that starts even before he meets Chloe in the pilot. Hufflepuff and Slytherin primaries are both loyalist; the main difference between them is in the scope of their loyalty. Slytherin primaries prioritize a smaller circle of people whom they have decided to prioritize. In contrast, Hufflepuffs believe in the innate value of people, and seek to prioritize people based on need or a sense of what is fair–in Lucifer’s case, this revolves around the basic right to free will.

Hufflepuffs tend to burn when the world has treated them so unfairly that they end up believing that caring about everyone is an impossible goal. Facing this rejection, they narrow their circles and start to prioritize looking out just for themselves, or a few loved ones. This often comes with a sense of shame: if the Hufflepuff were a better person, they could be kind to everyone (and remember, being kind doesn’t mean being nice). Lucifer is constantly asking himself this question. Is he a monster? Can he be a good person? In the pilot, his first interaction with Amenadiel includes asking, “Do you think I’m evil because I was born that way, or because dear old Dad decided I was?” 

At the beginning of the series, Lucifer mostly looks out for himself and, to a lesser extent, Maze. However, even in the pilot, we see glimpses of his inherent sense of justice and compassion for humanity. His interactions with Delilah (and his reaction to her death) set the stage, and his work with the LAPD–beyond his fascination with Chloe–continues the trend. Linda says it best when she tells him, “I think you’re starting to enjoy seeking justice for the good ones.” He only punishes people who have betrayed his innate sense of what is kind and fair–people who hurt other people–and he detests when someone takes away another person’s choice.

This isn’t to say that Slytherins can’t have this innate sense of fairness and compassion; it’s that a Slytherin would still put their “own people” first when the chips are down, and feel good about that decision. A Hufflepuff would feel like they’ve done the right thing when they put the collective good first. When Luci gives Marlotte her own universe at the end of season 2, he’s prioritizing the good of the world–and God and all his siblings in Heaven, estranged they may be–above keeping someone he loves very dearly: his mom. It’s a pretty significant character moment that this is the moral act which gives him his wings back.

Similarly, Lucifer’s pivotal decision at the end of season 4 also shows his Hufflepuff primary. He makes a huge personal sacrifice by going back to rule Hell, and hurts Chloe and his other loved ones to do it too. At the end of the day, Luci wants to do what’s best for humanity, even if it’s at cost to his inner circle. The flip side of this is the very Slytherin decision he makes at the end of season 3 which triggers the reappearance of his Devil face: killing Cain. Lucifer has killed exactly two people, both for the Slytherin motivation of protecting Chloe. Now, we can argue that Luci’s Slytherin model actually served him pretty well here, and the show generally wants us to support Luci after these difficult choices. But the key is in his reaction, which is an intense level of guilt uncharacteristic of someone who genuinely believes that the ends justify the means when it comes to protecting the people they love. 

For our true Slytherin primaries, we need to look no further than the occasional murder-buddies, Maze and Dan.

MAZIKEEN SMITH. Maze is a classic Slytherin primary through and through, and she petrifies over the course of season 3. Her Slytherin primary clashes with Lucifer’s Hufflepuff primary as he slowly un-burns; she can’t understand why he cares so much about humans and why he would change for them. It also explains why she’s so betrayed by his refusal to take her back to Hell: For Slytherin Maze, Lucifer refusing to prioritize her must mean that he cares about her less. For Hufflepuff Lucifer, he has to consider the good of the system–and taking Maze back to Hell could endanger everyone else by angering his father. Plus, it would break up the family!

At the beginning, Maze’s circle consists of herself and Lucifer, and she’s willing to go to any length to protect him–including almost killing Chloe and siding with Amenadiel to bring Lucifer home.  While her stance on humanity ends up changing, it’s primarily because she finds some humans that she happens to like–Trixie and Linda, first and foremost, though she adopts more as the series goes on. She tells Chloe, “I’m glad I didn’t kill you,” not because she suddenly decides murder is inherently bad, but because she ends up looking at Chloe and thinking, ‘This one is mine.’

Maze petrifies when she slowly loses everyone in her circle besides herself. This starts by Linda and Amenadiel lying to her and spirals out of control when Lucifer refuses to take her back to Hell. “None of you deserve me,” she tells him, and suddenly finds herself with no one to protect but herself. However, Maze un-petrifies at the end of the season; the first step is when Amenadiel shows her compassion, but she ultimately finds her place again when she rushes to save Linda from the bluffed threat from Cain.

Maze is a Gryffindor secondary. She’s at her best when she charges head (and knife) first into situations. However, she also has a Ravenclaw model that, similarly to Lucifer, she uses to make her a more effective Gryffindor. Maze collects weapons and fighting styles in a very Ravenclaw-fashion so that she can be the best possible torturer and bounty-hunter, but when trouble arrives, she’s not going to stop and make a plan–she’s going to kick trouble’s ass.

DAN ESPINOZA gets along with Maze so well because they’re both Slytherin primaries. Dan’s willingness to feed Warden Perry to the mob–and his lack of remorse afterwards–because Perry is a scumbag who hurt someone he cares about is clear evidence of his primary. He also knows exactly where to look for a little backup in Maze, who’s always down to offer him the means to his end. At his “Detective Douchiest,” Dan is leveraging his Slytherin primary to justify his bad behavior. He’s loyal to himself, after all, and throws himself into his work to avoid being attached to anyone else. However, Dan’s primary is also a strength. It makes him fiercely loyal and dependable to the people he loves–willing to do whatever it takes to protect them, or get them the revenge they don’t believe in getting for themselves.

Speaking of throwing himself into work: Dan is a Hufflepuff secondary. He’s a hard-working detective who keeps his head down–which makes him clash with his Gryffindor ex-wife, Chloe, who would rather make loud, controversial decisions in the name of justice–and puts in steady hours to chip away at his goals. When he’s in a good place, he puts a similar work ethic into the people he loves. When he’s in a bad one, he hides behind his work and detaches from the “human” side of his secondary.

CHLOE DECKER. Like I just mentioned, Chloe is a Gryffindor primary who desperately wants to pretend that she’s a Ravenclaw. Her Ravenclaw model–attributing morality to the legal system, carefully considering the facts when making decisions–can serve her well, and she falls back on it when she’s trying to wrangle Lucifer’s Slytherin antics. However, Chloe’s real strength has always been following her gut–occasionally to the point of self-righteousness. This also explains her base moral conflict with Dan, who both prioritizes people over ideals. A similar conflict could exist with Lucifer, but Luci is constantly encouraging Chloe to trust her instincts–he values her true primary more than her model. She has an innate sense of right and wrong that she has to fight very hard to overcome, and things normally go worse for her when she does. 

I’m talking about the clusterfuck that was early season 4, obviously. Chloe sees Lucifer’s Devil face at the end of season 3 and is faced with a reality that her Ravenclaw model was stubbornly refusing to accommodate; she has a gut reaction of fear that tells her to run away. This initial need for space wasn’t actually the issue. I think that, if Chloe had met anyone besides Father Kinley, things would’ve been just fine. But when she meets Kinley in Rome, Chloe is manipulated into ignoring her Gryffindor instincts. Her heart is telling her to trust Lucifer–that he’s a good person who she loves. However, Kinley manipulates Chloe into trusting an external source of morality instead: his twisted brand of Catholic pedagogy. What restores Chloe’s conscience is tossing out everything Kinley tries to tell her and realigning with what she feels, which is love for Lucifer.

Chloe is also a Gryffindor secondary, although her Ravenclaw secondary model is more useful and stable than her primary model. Like Maze, she borrows the thoughtful planning and skill-collecting of a Ravenclaw. Chloe tackles cases by examining every angle, carefully interrogating suspects, and weighing the pros and cons of every solution. I would hazard a guess that most of her colleagues assume that Ravenclaw!Chloe is all there is–especially because she seems so much more sensible that her reckless partner. But if we dig deeper, Chloe is more than happy to charge into situations with a stubbornness and bravery that’s nearly unmatched. When push comes to shove, Chloe will take a psychologist on a date rather than wait for special permission to speak to a suspect, leverage Lucifer’s impulsivity to shake down perps, and stand between Lucifer and Cain’s henchmen while daring them to shoot.

AMENADIEL.  Our resident solider of God is a little harder to pin down than most of the others for me, primarily because I really want to know more about his time in Heaven before the series started. Amenadiel reads either like a Ravenclaw or Gryffindor primary, though I lean towards a stripped Gryffindor. This is complicated by the fact that Amenadiel was stripped long before he realizes it during season 2. Stripped Gryffindors learn that they can’t trust their own moral compass and have to find a new system to follow instead. I think this happened to Amenadiel when he was still living in the Silver City, perhaps around the time Lucifer Fell, if not before.

Amenadiel functions by being his father’s loyal solider–by doing exactly what he’s told, because it’s supposed to be the right thing. He labels his brother as selfish, reckless, and evil despite harboring a clear love for him at the same time. This cognitive dissonance exists because someone else taught Amenadiel that he should believe those things about Lucifer. He survives in Heaven by falling in line–essentially adapting his father’s party line, like a Ravenclaw would. The issue is that a Ravenclaw would be satisfied with adapting such a system, and would not struggle as much to revise this system later if they found it inadequate.

In contrast, Amenadiel is constantly struggling to figure out what’s right. He’s horrified by his own behavior during season 1, causing him to Fall from angelhood and lose his wings and powers, but can’t seem to re-orient himself. He tries on different hats–first being like Lucifer, then following their mom instead of their dad, and finally trying to follow their dad again–but nothing ever feels right. Amenadiel’s greatest comfort is found in the realization that angels self-actualize. Once this realization comes, Amenadiel learns to trust himself again and regains his wings once and for all.

Amenadiel splits himself between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw secondaries and somehow manages to fail at both. (I say this with love). This is mostly because, I think, his Gryffindor primary is so stripped that his HOW is too detached from a WHY that makes internal sense–this leaves him ineffective and lost. Looking at season 4, though, I think Amenadiel is a Ravenclaw who models a Gryff secondary. While he’s still up for a Gryffindor-esque charge into the fight, Amenadiel approaches Linda’s pregnancy and impending fatherhood with a desire to learn as much as he can and make a better world for his son.

LINDA MARTIN is a Ravenclaw primary who briefly falls when she sees Lucifer’s Devil face, then promptly picks up herself back up and builds a new moral system for herself. It takes her about a week and she’s fairly satisfied with the result, even when her emotional and physical fears flare back up and she has to baby-proof her ceiling. Pre-fall, Linda believed in a system of compassion and warm skepticism, which made her an excellent therapist. She liked to think she might be reincarnated as a chameleon. She enjoyed the process of questioning the world. During her fall, Linda found her current system incapable of accommodating the simultaneously massive and personal scale of Divinity–and post-fall, she builds a new system that largely looks the same as before but, as Amenadiel helpfully points out, contains “different questions.” 

With Linda, we’ve finally found a straightforward Ravenclaw secondary, no modelling to be found. Linda likes to plan for trouble, and she flounders when that opportunity is taken away from her. She’s constantly trying to remind people that she’s not that kind of doctor, and while she lets herself get swept up into Lucifer’s schemes–like breaking God out of a psychiatric hospital–she’s never comfortable in that kind of situation and the decisions she makes impulsively don’t tend to work out well for her (see: the resulting interrogation from the ethics review board). 

ELLA LOPEZ is another “double” house, and our second Hufflepuff primary. While many people who have a strong religious faith can be seen as Ravenclaw primaries, Ella’s connection to her faith is driven by her innate love for humanity. She believes that people–including the Devil, who she says gets a bad rap–are basically good and deserve love and kindness. After Charlotte’s death, we see that Ella’s response is not to lose faith in her approach to life like a Ravenclaw might–instead, she resents a God who she thought shared her Hufflepuff morals and clearly doesn’t, if such senseless bad things can happen to good people.

Her Hufflepuff secondary is a fairly classic kind, combining cheerful work with an interpersonal warmth that endears people to her. Ella’s natural charisma is a sweet, understated variety that makes even Azrael, the Angel of Death, want to look out for her. While Ella rarely leverages this consciously–and her lack of desire to do so feeds into her charm–there are multiple points in the series where people casually go to bat for her. Two prime examples are when Charlotte tells off Pierce in an immensely satisfying fashion and when Lucifer scares Ella’s brother straight.

CHARLOTTE RICHARDS. Oh, dearest Charlotte. So much of her time is spent in a existential crisis that she’s another hard one to pin down. but I think she’s a Slytherin primary. When Charlotte finds out about the Devil of it all, she doesn’t run like Chloe, and she doesn’t have to reconstruct her view of the world like Linda does. Instead, Charlotte struggles to understand how to be a “good” Slytherin. Pre-trip to Hell, it’s implied that Charlotte lived fairly selfishly, extending her Slytherin circle to herself, her clients, and perhaps her children. Post-Hell, Charlotte is rocked to her core by the realization that she was not living free of guilt.

Now, some could argue that this means Charlotte isn’t actually a Slytherin. However, Slytherins aren’t free from other aspects of morality just because their first priority will always be their chosen people. Charlotte prioritized protecting criminals who she knew did terrible things, and she put herself first to an extent that many people would feel guilty about, even though most would agree that it’s good to put yourself first sometimes. When she’s trying to become a “good” person, Charlotte initially tries to give up her Slytherin ideals entirely. She quits her job and joins the DA’s office, trying to more like the cheerful Hufflepuff Ella.

This ultimately fails; it simply isn’t her. But Charlotte finds success–and a tragic redemption–when she learns that there’s more than one way to be a Slytherin. She turns some of her Slytherin loyalty outwards, towards victims and survivors of domestic abuse as well as new loved ones–Dan, Ella, and Amenadiel. She’s willing to go to great lengths to protect the people in her circle, which is still a very Slytherin motivation, but one that she feels much more at peace with in the end.

As for Charlotte’s secondary? Look, anyone who steals a dude’s motorcycle while cheerfully informing him, “Don’t worry, it’s for God!” is probably a Gryffindor. I don’t make the rules here.

MARLOTTE. The thing about being a Hufflepuff primary is that people matter, but not everyone has the same definition of “person.” At first glance, the Divine Goddess might look like a Slytherin primary. However, I argue that she actually values all “people” equally, it’s just that she considers Celestials to be people, and humanity to be both too foreign and simple to matter. (This logic is, by the way, the same reasons Hufflepuffs are no less capable of racism, homophobia, etc. than anyone else). 

Goddess’s primary goal is to reunite her family, sans God, and she’s willing to roast a bunch of humans on the Santa Monica Pier to do it. Humans are fundamentally expendable–except for her “favorite human,” Dan, who essentially gets a loophole when she spends enough time with him and stops seeing him as “other.” But Goddess doesn’t consider any Celestial to be expendable. She’s not willing to harm Luci and Amenadiel, even when she realizes that they were planning to betray her. She doesn’t value herself more than she values her children, and she doesn’t play favorites. If she did, she might be content to try and stay on Earth, or to wage a war in which some of her children (i.e., the ones who didn’t side with her) died. If Goddess were a Slytherin, it would be possible to “kick” people out of her circle, like Maze does when she petrifies. Instead, Goddess’s natural state is essentially inclusive, much like her son, Lucifer–they just have a pretty substantial conflict over who gets included.

Goddess is a determined Ravenclaw secondary. When she needs to make things better with Lucifer, she learns how to make “cheesy noodles.” She throws herself whole-heartedly into learning  how to live as Charlotte Richards–including reading every legal book every, apparently. While she’s certainly cunning like many Slytherin secondaries, Goddess actually doesn’t function very well without a plan. Things fall apart for her pretty quickly when she runs out of time in her body and has to make decisions off the cuff. Unlike Lucifer, who works best when he’s under pressure, she needs time to set up her course of action.

EVE is another difficult one to sort because so much of her characterization is about not knowing how she is. This makes her primary fairly obscured, and I hope we’ll see more of her in season 5 so I can revisit this sorting. For now, I’m going with a Gryffindor primary. Eve is motivated by doing what feels good–whether it’s leaving Heaven because she’s tired of being someone’s wife or convincing her boyfriend to punish people. She has an instinctive solution to every problem–even when logic says, ‘Hey, maybe don’t release demons from Hell?’ because she knows how things should be–and that’s with her and Lucifer together.

The reason she clashes with Lucifer is that while Eve’s primary is about ideals, Lucifer’s primary is about people–whether he’s operating on his Slytherin model or his true Hufflepuff primary. Lucifer cares a whole lot about other people’s desires–including Eve’s–but he doesn’t care that much about his own if they hurt other people. Interestingly, Chloe and Lucifer have this same idealist vs. humanist conflict; Eve and Chloe just have very different flavors of Gryffindor morality, and it turns out that Chloe’s ideals match up with Lucifer’s Hufflepuff values more of the time. Furthermore, Chloe comes to accept Lucifer’s Hufflepuff-ness in a way that Eve doesn’t. Chloe actually prefers Luci as a Puff–her Gryffindor righteousness says that they should protect other people, which is the same thing Lucifer wants to do.

Much like Ella, Eve uses a Hufflepuff secondary to build connections with other people that she can depend on. However, Eve leverages those connections on a much more conscious level than Ella ever does–in fact, it’s essentially the first thing that Eve ever does, both in her life and in the series. She starts by connecting herself to Adam, trying to be the perfect wife. Then, she leaves Heaven and seeks out Lucifer, relying on him to help her accomplish her goals. After getting dumped, Eve jumps to Maze instead. She’s a particularly effective Hufflepuff because of her Slytherin model, which allows her to adapt to whatever the other person needs her to be (see: the entirety of “Super Bad Boyfriend.”) You could make the argument that Eve is actually just a Slytherin secondary, since the “chameleon” aspect is so central to how she functions. However, Eve has a level of discomfort with her constant mask-wearing that a Slytherin secondary probably wouldn’t. In fact, deciding to part ways with her Slytherin model and figure out who she is represents Eve’s big character moment at the very end of the season.

MARCUS PIERCE/CAIN. I saved Cain for last because (in my opinion) he’s the closest thing to a pure antagonist that we have on the show, but frankly even that’s debatable [EDIT I FORGOT KINLEY EXISTED LMAO]. Anyways, Cain is a Slytherin primary who has been petrified for so long that he’s ready for a hard-out on the whole immortality thing. The only person in his circle is himself–we see, mostly in flashbacks, that this is because he’s tired of the pain that comes with losing people he loves. Cain only wants to live again once he adds Chloe to his circle and she reminds him what it feels like to have people to live for.

The neat and/or horrifying thing about Cain is that he’s a fantastic example of a truly insidious Hufflepuff secondary. His entire Sinnerman persona revolves around crafting a network of people and resources he can depend on. When Luci and friends put his back against the wall after the death of Charlotte, Cain doesn’t resort to charging, improvising, or leveraging his own skills. Instead, he calls up a bunch of people who owe him favors and are too terrified to betray him, and they do all the dirty work for him. It actually very nearly works, too. 

[trinity-blood-translations]

ROM 6 - Chapter 1 Part III (english translation)

Translator: Roven, Editing: Lamy

Trinity Blood (by Sunao Yoshida)  

           ROM 6                                               Link for Part I Chapter 1                                         Link for Part II Part III

—Ah, ah, ah, ah, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

  Between the sound of the sirens, there was a cry of pain. Looking at the priest’s headless body Esther thought it was a very annoying loud noise.

  A girl screamed as if a piece of her soul was taken and been crushed. Esther didn’t realize that the scream came from her own throat until she saw a hand rising as if it was a puppet. The nun raised the shotgun without hesitating pointing at the young blond man and pulled the trigger.

  —Watch out, mein Herr. Esther is... —said Butler...

  Or was it Kämpfer? Or whatever...

  The muzzle of the shotgun, thick as a thigh, launched a deadly discharge. The bullets were hurled into the air as if they were a steel net. Their target was the handsome young man called Cain, the angel who was looking sadly at the decapitated body of the devil. The rain of bullets hit his body and made him bend.

  —Aaaaah, aaaah, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

  Esther didn’t stop moving while she was screaming. She fired and reloaded the shotgun almost at the same time.

  White.

  Trigger.

  The nun observed expressionless how the young man's body flew away, and she reloaded again...

  She felt like a veil of blood was spreading through her mind. She wasn’t able to think. Rather, her heart forbade her to think. Her body moved as if it were someone else's. She fired mechanically again and again. It was like watching an endless movie. A terror movie.

  When would that nightmare end? Esther realized that she couldn’t even hear the shots anymore. With her left hand she continued to reloading, but she felt no longer the effect of the bullets entering the barrel. Did she run out of ammo? Or was it that the gun had been locked...?

  The room was filled with smoke thicker than the mist of the city. The air conditioning system, which had survived the centuries, made the mist swirl.

  —Ah ... ah!

  Esther stared with empty eyes at the two bloody figures —one white, the other black— lying on the floor. The nun stepped forward without realizing that she stepped at the remains of the round glasses, until she reached the side of the headless black corpse.

  —Father..? She asked with a trembling voice.

  No one answered.

  —Father? —she repeated with more force.

  But there was no answer at all.

  The remain of the bloody neck were to see at the end of the habit like a chopped trunk.

  The head that should have been there was disappeared. Some gray stains were visible among the reddish liquid spread across the floor, probably parts of the cerebral fluid. Some shining small white masses were also to see which must have been the teeth. The eyes with the color of a winter lake with nerves still hanging on it were covered with a whitish veil.

  —No...

  Esther stared at the decapitated body as if it were of someone she saw for the first time. With eyes fixed on the still bleeding cut, she repeated incessantly the same word:

  —No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...

  That was impossible. There had to be a mistake. He couldn’t die. Even if he was poor and clumsy, he couldn’t die in that terrible way. She was certain that at any moment he would appear calling her with his carefree voice: <<Esther!>>. She would turn to scold him, as he deserved...

  —"Esther!" — A clueless voice addressed the girl.

  It was a quiet voice showing no sign of worry. While turning toward the voice the nun was turning pale as if she had the same hell before the eyes.

—Eh!?

  —Eh? What's the matter? Is something wrong with my face?

The young man dressed in white had appeared before the stupefied girl. He didn’t have any scratch on his face, but when he noticed that Esther’s gaze was fixed on the gap that had open in his stomach, he annoyed snapped his tongue:

  —Oh well, what a hole I have in the suit!… Esther, doing this to a friend... You've gone a bit too far with this joke.

  —Ah...! Ah ...! Bu..,. but... how? How is it possible...!?

  The hole that pierced the young man was so large that Esther almost could have put her head in it.

  It wasn’t unusual, considering that he had received a discharge in a close-range. However, there was neither a drop of blood nor a piece of entrails. There was only a white interior just like a perforated puppet.

  —Ah, this? It's because a long time ago I had a pretty big fight with my brother and he threw me from a very high place, —explained the young man laughing and embarrassed to the girl stupefied in horror—. How many year have passed since then...? The burns from then still haven’t healed well yet. When it rains they itch awfully. That’s why I came here to look for our genetic map to fix me... What Isaak? Did you found it?

  —My lord, the truth is that... —explained Panzer Magier, with an expressionless face, running his fingers over the console. —….the wrath of your brother has been a bit disproportionate. The files are completely useless. And not just the ones here. It seems that there were security copies in the system, but even though I tried to recover them, it was impossible.

  —Well, that is a problem indeed... And can’t you connect to the net? Aren’t the blueprints kept in any database out there?

  —It is not possible to connect. This electronic system is disabled. I am very sorry, but it seems that your brother and his anger have erased everything.

  —All right. It's just that Abel has always had a bad temper. What are we going to do? It is indeed a problem..., a big problem... What can we...? Oh, sure!

  The young man clapped with his hands as if he had just realized something, and he looked at the bloody corpse lying next to Esther.

  —Thinking about it, we don’t have the blueprints but we have a sample... My brother and I are completely identical. Let's use his body... I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.

  —Use his body? —Esther repeated mechanically. She didn’t quite understand the meaning of those words, but she had a baleful presentiment. It seemed difficult to imagine that anything worse could happen but Esther drew back frightened. Embracing the corpse of Abel she was about to escape running from the room..., when the young man dressed in white stepped quietly to her side.

  —Where are you going, Esther? —he asked with the same expression as the priest who was no longer in this world.

  Cain's voice was sweet but the nun couldn’t help but chatter her teeth.

  —Excuse me if I frighten you... but we will be okay soon. Afterwards we will go back upstairs and eat some delicious food. What do you desire? Meat? Fish? I love pasta...

   —Ah!

  When the young man reached out Esther pulled away instinctively. Rather, she tried to do it but her body didn’t answer. Though Cain smiled at her with affability she stood petrified like a frog in front of a snake.

  The young man extended his hand toward the corpse the nun was embracing.

  —Come on, let's not lose no more... Huh!?

  —What is it, my lord? —asked Panzer Magier surprised manipulating the mummies in front of the console.

  When he turned around he saw that the young man in white had withdrawn his hand with which he was just about to touch the corpse. The fingers twisted in pain and showed a few black burns.

  —What...? What happened? —Esther murmured in astonishment.

  Upon coming into contact with the body a bluish light forced Cain to withdraw his hand immediately. It was the energy produced by the priest turned into Krusnik. But why? If Abel had already died...

  —Take it easy, Isaak. I just got a little scared. Or maybe...Do you want to make things difficult for me, 02? —said Cain serenely, as if he wanted to reassure his subordinate, although in his gaze a metallic light appeared. —These melodramatic show of fighting to the end isn’t your style. Or do you just want to annoy me? Even if this makes you angry, this is not...Huhh?

  Cain stopped abruptly talking to the corpse or to the person who had lived in it and glanced with a strange look at his own hand. The flesh until then of an almost transparent white was darkening periodically as if the burns from before were about to spread through it. The blackened skin oozed a yellowish and foamy liquid which gave off a putrid stench. And it wasn't only the hand changing. The edges of the gap that Esther had opened in his stomach were also turning into another color. What was happening?

—Eh? My body is... decomposing? —moaned Cain moving away from the nun who was staring at him with wide eyes. —What does this mean? Isaak, what is happening to me?

  — My lord, unfortunately it means that we are running out of time.

  The young man replied politely but in his voice was a shadow of disgust. Watching his superior falling apart Panzer Magier shook his head annoyed.

  —It was supposed to last longer but the fight with your brother must had costed you more energy than we thought... Anyway, we have to go back before your body fall apart completely.

  —Well, well, this is indeed a nuisance... I can’t walk around with this body, —Cain replied with a childish tone as if he was told to go home but he wanted to keep playing. —Anyway, what could we do? There’s no choice but return. It's a shame since we've come this far... Oh, by the way, Esther?

  Cain turned to the young woman, who looked at them as if she would see visions. He didn’t approached her physically but his voice had the closeness of an old friend.

  —Hard days are waiting for you. Cheer up! Promise me you will neither cry nor fall into despair, okay?

  —Lord, please hurry. The body will not last much longer.

  —Got it. I will go right now... Well, see you later, Esther.

  The young man blinked his eyes at her and winked her a goodbye kiss before he disappeared from the room together with Panzer Magier. Literally, they disappeared. Esther was alone, with no other company than the decapitated corpse in her arms and Vanessa who was lying dead on the floor her stomach destroyed by the jellyfish. The four mummies had also disappeared and with them the documents they were hugging, so the room seemed even larger.

  The sirens were still ringing. Sitting in the middle of the room, Esther had lost all sense of time...

  —Sister Esther!? —screamed somebody suddenly. —Did you come here, Saint!? Doctor Wordsworth, it's sister Esther! We have found the Saint of István!

  Some figures appeared in the room and were screaming to each other. They were men dressed in black, probably members of the Secretary of Vatican Papal State. The gentleman who was leading them had a face that the girl was familiar with. But who is he? She couldn’t remember. The truth was that she didn’t want to think about anything...

  —Are you alright, Sister Esther? Good luck, I have put a transmitter on you for the case something like would happen. Let us return to the surface immediately. This area will be blocked very soon... Eh, who is this...?

  While trying in vain to get the nun out of her stupor the gentleman looked at the body she was holding. Since his head was missing at first sight he wasn’t able to recognize it, but seeing the habit and the rosary he was looking like he suspected it already. Without realizing that the pipe had fallen from his mouth, he groaned:

  —But this habit... It can’t be...

  Esther couldn’t hear the gentleman's voice. Her mind was fixed on the corpse in her arms. The nun was stupefied shaking the body in her arms, repeating his name as if she were expecting an answer:

  —Father Nightroad... Father...

  But obviously her call got no answer. However, Esther kept shaking the corpse.

  —Father, wake up... Father..., wake... wa... wa... Ah, ah, ah...! Nooooooooooo!!!

  —Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

  A scream of despair made Esther to come out of her nightmare in order to fall into an even more terrible reality.

  When she opened her eyes and rose from the chair the scream had disappeared, but instead she heard monstrously violent gasps. As she instinctively moved her hand toward the place where she would have her shotgun, the nun realized that it was her own breathing. Her cheeks were soaked.

  —Oh oh!

  The girl lifted her face, letting the tears run freely.

  Several portraits of saints decorated the walls of the room and on the altar was a large silver crucifix.

  The shadows dominated in the chapel of St. George's Cathedral, located on the grounds of Windsor Palace. Only the weak light of the winter night shone through the stained glass windows. How many hours had she been there? How much time had passed since that?

  The Professor had rescued her from the underground levels and carried her back to the surface. Then she thought to remember to be examined by several doctors, but she wasn’t quite sure how everything went. The only thing she clearly remembered was the pool of blood stretching out on the floor. And the corpse dressed in habit, but without a head...

  —I…, I've killed him... I...

  Esther repeated over and over again the same meaningless words in front of the coffin that lay next to the altar. It was a simple coffin of cedar without decoration and aperture. However, Esther was painfully aware of who was in there.

  —If I hadn’t said that... If I had shot him before...

  —Sis..., Sister Esther? —asked a hesitant voice.

When did he entered? Esther looked back, full of tears, towards the teenager who had appeared in the chapel.

  —Holiness?

  —E..., E..., Esther..., are you okay?

  Instinctively, Alessandro stepped back when the nun lifted her face towards him in a mechanical way, like a puppet. There was no doubt that he had impressed the girl's emaciated face. After hesitating a moment, with a fearful look, the teenager said:

  —I've... been told… that... you haven’t left... this… place in a… while.

Are you... you ... are you okay? You haven’t..., eaten anything and... I’m sorry..., I’m really sorry… the Fa... Father Nightroad... I don’t have... I don’t have words for...

  —...

  Esther dropped her face again while the Pope tried to comfort her clumsily. She decided to remain silent, because she knew that if she would say something it would be terrible things. Despite of how exhausted she was, she still kept sufficient lucidity to know it.

 Thinking that the nun was just tired, Alessandro said, looking towards the coffin:

  —Sorry... I'm sorry to bother you now, but... I wanted to talk about something. Is it… okay? It's..., about Virgil and Angelica... Pe..., Petros is hurt and..., they don’t let me see him... Paula wouldn’t hear… she wouldn’t hear me, and... Esth... Esther, would you mind if...?

  —I'm very sorry, Your Holiness, but I don’t think I can be useful to you. <<Don’t talk to me anymore!>>

  Esther barely controlled the scream that raged in her chest and she replied in a measured voice:

  —I am sorry. I'm no good… I’m useless...

  —You a…, you are u…, useless?

  —No use... I'm no use! For nothing at all!

  The emotion then gushed out of the girl. She herself was surprised at the strength of her voice, but once she started she couldn’t control herself. The teenager drew back, terrified by the shrieks of the nun, who tore off her hair and threw them towards the altar. From her clenched fists dripped blood and stained the floor.

  —I can’t do anything! The father has died because of me... And I wasn’t able to shoot… I was  too scared!

  In that dark underground she hadn’t lost only Father Nightroad. She had lost everything she had. A feeling of emptiness more violent than hunger made her voice break. She wasn’t yet considered as a mature woman, but she had overcome many difficulties that had helped her to gain self-confidence. She had just begun to feel within herself the strength that encouraged her to move on.

  But it seemed that everything had suddenly evaporated. Instead, there was only remorse, fear and self-hatred…Such violent emotions that it seemed they were about to tear her chest.

  She felt a huge emptiness in her heart, a void that couldn’t be filled. She had lost him forever. He would never come back...

  —I'm no use! I'm no good!

  —E..., E..., Esther...

  Alessandro watched horrified as the nun scratched her face and bit on her lips until they started to bleed. Not knowing what to do he just stayed there watching her, terrified, as blood and pieces of skin dropped on him...

  —Enough, Esther!

  A calm voice but full of authority made the young woman to stop. When Alessandro turned toward the voice, the person who just spoke had already passed his side with a martial rhythm and grabbed Esther’s wrists.

  —Stop! A lady shouldn’t damage her face like this…

  —Colonel Spencer?" —she said, looking at the newcomer with empty eyes.

  Ignoring the teenage Pope who was looking at them with horror, the nun repeated to the orange-haired officer:

  —Colonel... I killed him…, I..., I…, I killed…, I…,

  —Now enough!

  Something made a dry sound on Esther 's cheeks. As the slapped nun looked up with an expression like a demon just had been fallen of her face, she met with her gaze the sky-blue eyes of Bloody Mary.

  —Sister Esther Blanchett! Have you forgotten that you are the Saint!? You have been chosen to fight against the evil in the world, to be the voice of the Lord and the admiration of the people... How can the Saint fall apart like this!? I won’t let you!

  —The Saint... I...

  She was no saint!

  The scream almost came from her lips, but something stopped her. <<Where have I been wrong?>>, said the revenger in her hometown. <<Can I trust you, Esther?>>, asked the young man she met in the desert city. <<You are not my subject. You are my friend.>>, said the girl who ruled the city of non-humans. <<You will be the Saint.>>, said the friend she lost in the winter city. <<I am on your side>>, said the one who had always been by her side and now he was silent forever.

  Esther buried her nails tightly in her fists, to avoid taking them back to the face.

  She didn’t want to have anything to do with this name. She could only be saved when she erased that agname. But in doing so, she would also erase all those people who she kept inside. It would be like eliminate everyone who live thinking about her and those who don’t live anymore, except in her memories...

  —Ah! —cried the girl and covered her face. <<What an ugly voice...>>

  As a Saint she should cry a little more beautiful —thought Esther without realizing that she was burst into tears at the same time. Her shoulders trembled violently and felt as if she were going to vomit all the blood that ran through her chest.

  <<I am not a saint!>>

  The girl cried with all her might just in order to stifle that scream. Her face was soaked with tears and snot, as if there wasn't left a drop of liquid in her body.

  Mary waited patiently for the nun to finish crying. With her gaze fixed on her, she didn’t even realize that the Pope had left the room. When she saw that the tears abate a little, she whispered:

  —You really loved him, isn’t that so?

—Did... love him...?1     Esther raised her head with a confused look, full of tears, as if she just heard the voice of an incomprehensible oracle.

  Mary hugged her murmuring:   —All right. You can still cry. But then you must get up again, Saint... Now cry all you want.

  —Colonel?

  —Yes?

  —Why? Why are you worrying about me...?

  —Maybe it's because we're sisters. Yes, you are... my only sister.  And soon my only relative.

  <<the only relative>>... Those words made Esther's eyes light up. Didn't she had someone else in the palace? As if Mary had guessed what she thought, she shook her head.

  —Our grandmother... The queen is doing very badly. The representatives of the aristocracy have been called to her side. That's why I came to pick you up… When you are calmer, get ready. We'll go to the palace together.

  —To ... together? But I...

  —It's all right, Esther... —Mary said, offering the nun a handkerchief to wipe away the tears.— I'll take care of everything. I will protect you... I will not let that bunch of scavenging vultures to do anything to my sister.

  —Sister, —Esther repeated.

  The emptiness in her chest made her feel a deaf pain which would never cease. But, at the same time, the hand that the Colonel was giving her was warm and soft.

  —Thank you sister...

  —Don’t worry... Are you calmer now? Calm down a little and we will go. The car is waiting outside. The palace is not so far from here...

  Mary was hugging her sister and talking gentle but some shouts outside interrupted their conversation. When she turned to see what was it about, someone violently opened the door without knocking.

  —Jane!? —Mary yelled in surprise.

  The colonel was so shocked by the sudden appearance that she exclaimed, forgetting all manners:

  —But what are you doing here?! Hadn’t you gone to the palace!?

  —I've deviated halfway.

  Jane Judith Jocelyn Albion's most notorious nobleman was pale as ever. With a stiff expression, free of all irony, Calamity Jane pointed outward.

  —It's a terrible thing, Mary... Look.

  The aristocrat pointed toward the castle gate. By following her directions with the eyes, Mary and Esther were shocked.

  —But…, but, what is that?!

  The first who broke the silence was Mary, still hugging Esther andlooking towards the entrance of the castle.

  —What happened!? How could...!?

  —What is that!?

  Before her eyes stretched a sea of ​​people and people and more people... The crowd filled the field of vision of the two girls, who were looking in astonishment.

  The road leading to the castle was full of people and cars. And not just at ground level. Above the cars, on the roofs, and even on the streetlamps there were people looking curiously into the palace. Many of them carried sheets of newspapers in their hands. In addition, there were groups of men with the appearance of journalists arguing with the soldiers who protected the enclosure. What was happening!?

  —Look at this... It's the Times special edition that has been out ten minutes ago.

  Jane showed them a newspaper identical to the ones that the crowd was carrying. On the cheap paper it was printed a photo of Esther and Mary, taken the day before at the airport, but it wasn’t the fact what attracted the attention of the sisters. Their eyes were fixed on the letters that danced around it: <<Sister Esther is the lost princess>>.

  —<<Sister Esther is the lost princess>>?....It can not be!

Why did they published this!? —cried the older of the two sisters, and turned to her friend, who was drawing the curtains—. Jane, what does this mean?! Why has this story been leaked out to the media!? Who is responsible!?

  —How should I know it!? All the newspapers have published the story at the same time and also the radios have announced... —explained Calamity Jane, pulling out more and more newspapers from her coat.

  The aristocrat took out more than ten balls of papers, which soon filled the floor.

  —Who has spread the news especially now? The Vatican? It can’t be, they don’t have such strong ties with Albion’s media. The Duke of Argyll... he isn’t skilled enough to do such a thing. Letting all the newspapers take the same story in the evening edition... nobody is able to do this. I don’t know who it was, but it’is someone very skilled.

  —Eh? So...

  Esther began to speak in a hesitant voice, and the perplexity in her eyes showed that she still didn’t fully understand what had happened.

  —Then, what are we going to do? We have to go to the palace to see your majesty... but with all those people...

  —There's a car ready at the back exit, —Jane quickly replied, crossing the newspapers on the floor with her needle-like high heels. —We'll catch the attention of the people outside with a decoy and you can escape… Mary, are you alright?

  —...

  Jane's question went unanswered. Seeing her sister absorbed by her thoughts, Esther asked fearfully:

  —Colonel Spencer?

  —It will be a fight to death...

  —Eh?

  The colonel had spoken in such a low voice that the nun hadn’t understood what she had said. Tilting her head Esther asked:

 —Colonel? What did...? What did you say, Mary?

 —Eh? Oh, nothing, it's nothing... — the officer replied as if she just woke up from a dream.

 As she turned her gaze to the nun her eyes had lost their hardness of before. Shaking her head, Mary said softly to her sister:

  —It's nothing, Esther. Don’t worry...

1 The japanese original version uses 愛 (love) which very uncommon. Usually they use for “to love somebody” 好きです (literally: I like you). The use of 愛 implies very strong emotions here - that’s why Esther is surprised by the use of this word. It seems like she realizes in this moment that she was really in love with him. (Compare with the conversation between Mary and Jane about her before.)

Illustrations by Thores shibamoto and Kiyo Kyujyo.

[fandomfollower13]

The Sons of Hell PT.1

A/N: Hiiiii this is my first story so I’m so sorry on tumblr if it sucks. and sorry for any grammar mistakes. Sorry!

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Charlie Bradbury, Jo Harvelle, Benny Lafitte, John Winchester, (mentioned ) Mary Winchester, Crowley McLeod, Lucifer, Balthazar, Gabriel, Lisa, Rowena, Ellen Harvelle Cain, Ruby (2.0), Meg (2.0),(mentioned)  Jess (characters might be added later on)

Warnings: Mature content, language, use and talk of drugs and Alcohol, weapons, (I WILL be updating warnings as much as I can)

Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually)   

Summary: Winchester, a name that strikes fear to any who hear it. The Winchesters ran one of the most feared gang in all of New York, The Sons of hell but as every gang must have they of course have enemies, Hell’s Demons being the top one. John Winchester was the boss of Sons of Hell he is ruthless and crude and he wants the next boss of the Son’s just like him and the next boss just so happens to be his eldest son Dean Winchester, A womanizing, badass guy and gorgeous man but he was also rude and sarcastic with so many walls around his heart but will someone from the other side break them? or will they get caught in the crossfire?

Readers point of view

I waited by baggage claim, tapping my foot as I checked my phone for the fifth time, ‘‘come on where is it’‘ I whispered to myself, as soon as the words left my mouth my two black bags came around.

I carefully weaved through the crowds of people trying to reach the doors. I walked out to see a sea of taxis as I was about to climb into a taxi a voice yelled over the loud noise “Ms. McLeod!’‘ my head snapped in the direction of the voice my hand slowly inching to the gun I had snuck through airport security but I quickly stopped when I saw a man standing by a black SUV.

‘‘I’m here to pick you up from orders of your father, Crowley’‘ I smiled at him as he grabbed my bags, ‘‘Thank you’‘ I climbed in the back of the car carefully buckling, ‘‘of course Ms.’‘ ‘‘Y/N, please call me Y/n’‘ I smiled at him once more.

We pulled up to a big mansion that was guarded by fences, dogs and at least 60 men with guns, The McLeod estate, my home. I stepped out of the car looking at the huge white pillars, the white French styled doors, the fountain, nothing has changed.

‘ ’Is that Oh My, Y/N/N’’ A thick accent screamed I looked through the now open doors ‘’Grandmamma!’’ I ran up the steps and was pulled into a tight hug, ‘’Oh its been to long Dearie!’’ she said pulling me towards the main dinning room ‘’ I know and I’m sorry for that mamma. but I did call you every Monday’’ I pointed out as I pulled out one of big red plush chairs smiling at her. ‘’Well that isn’t enough!’’ she sat across from me and started talking about she has changed her outfit ‘at least’ 3 times because she didn’t have enough notice I was coming back.

After she told me basically what I had missed since I saw her last it was in the early afternoon. “Grandma wheres dad?” “Oh hes in the main office sweet”. I smiled silently excusing myself. I climbed ths grand stairwell towards my fathers office. The black double doors were closed and gaurded. Rumbles of voices behind it. I looked too the two gaurds on the sides of the big doors. I timidly reached for the handles to see if they would let me past. As soon as i made sure they would i opened the big doors. All heads in the room snapped towards me and all instincts kicked in to reach for their guns. They all stopped when my father spoke up, “Dearie! Your home. Finally! ” he walked around his desk and gave me a big hug then kissing my cheek. “Ah the favorite returns. I turned my head to she a tall man with long grey hair and beard. Cain. My ‘uncle’ Cain. “Uncle Cain!” I yelled hugging him.

when we pulled away I looked around the room but was quickly pulled into another hug I almost squealed. ‘’Kiddo its been to long!’’ Lucifer said as we parted, ‘’well Luci I just couldn’t look at your face any longer’’ I joked making the room laugh. ‘’Finally someone who understands how hard it is!’’ meg said walking towards me with ruby following her closely and both of them pulling me into a hug. I had known all these people since  I could remember. They all were my family.

‘’ darling I’m so sorry but I have to deal with somethings tonight’’ my father said, I know about what my father is, what he did. so I nodded ‘’ok well is it ok if I take ruby and meg with me too dinner?’’ I saw the girls smile. ‘’well of course darling’’.

Deans Point of view

my hands rested on the thighs of Stephanie’s, Stacy, whatever her name is, ‘’oh! wow I should’ve knocked’’ a shy voice said making me pull away from the dark haired girl. I turned to see Charlie with a hand over her eyes trying to find her way back to the door. ‘’Charlie’’ I called to her, she peaked through her fingers, ‘’sorry dean I just- I needed- I should’ve knocked’’ she rambled, I chuckled the girl behind me sneering, so I turned to her ‘’well Stacy-’’ ‘’its Stella’’  ‘’right Stella thank you for last night, but I think you should go’’ I smirked at her, she huffed and grabbed her stuff running to the door ‘’ You know what you’re a real douche’’

I pulled a shirt over my head ‘’ok Charlie what did you need to tell me?’’ I asked looking at my red headed friend ‘ ‘oh right, I have news on Crowley’’  Crowley, that bastard. I nodded heading to my kitchen Charlie following, ‘’ so I hacked onto airport security cams which btw they have terrible security like come on’’ I looked at Charlie ‘’Oh right. I saw one of Crowley’s goons was picking someone up this morning but with the terrible footage even I couldn’t make the person out’’ she said snatching my cereal ‘’you know I was going to eat that, and why would Crowley want his goons to pick someone up. who is that important for him?’’ I snatched my bowl away from her and flashed her a smile.

‘’Hey! I’m sorry I rushed over to your apartment to tell you this huge news and forgot to eat! and I don’t know, reinforcements, new rich client?’’  she shrugged. ‘’well remember don’t try to find anything out that might put you in danger’’ ‘’aw dean people might actually think you cared’’ she smiled I glared at her and opened the door and pointed ‘’ I wouldn’t say that Charles or I can make your life a living hell’’ and I slammed the door as soon as she stepped out.  

it was late in the night and I was sitting at the roadhouse hearing my dad and bobby fight about someone debts, finally  I had enough  of there stupid back and forth I threw back my shot and slammed it down which quickly got their attention i grabbed my leather jacket and headed towards them.

“How about you two stop your bitching” they gave him a look that killed but dean took a step back and waved his best friend and brother over. “Ill take care of it" I flashed a cocky smirk and grabed his keys and then his gun. We walked into a nightclub lights were flashing, people were making out, dirty dancing, alcohol and drugs were everywhere. Sam and Cas split in different directions but I know exactly where our client was, I weaved through they crowd avoiding many girls grabbing for Me. I reached the VIP section the guard was about to push me back but he quickly stopped himself, I smiled at him ‘’smart choice’’ he started stammering ‘’calm down junior your fine, for now, now move’’  I growled he rushed to move.

I looked around the VIP section, girls were basically having in guys laps and their hands in their pants. Except one table, two men sat at the very back talking, really, can he be more obvious, I smirked as I pulled out my gun and pointed it to the guy on the left, ‘’scram’’ he almost tripped as he ran away, with my gun still out I sat across from the client, they others guys whiskey sat untouched ‘’thanks, I'm  flattered, but I’m confused David you can afford drinks, a new car, VIP pass and yet I still haven’t seen my money’’ I smiled sipping the amber liquid. ‘’I-I just haven’t been able to s-send you they money’’ his hand started shaking with fear. I smirked ‘’Now Dave, I just don’t believe you’’ I cocked my gun and pointed at him taking the last sip of my drink. ‘’N-no please I-I just n-need a little bit m-more time, p-please, I-I made a m-mistake’’ he started begging, I rolled my eyes.

I was about to pull the trigger when he started crying, ‘’ Please, j-just until W-Wednesday  I just want to say goodbye to my w-wife and d-daughter, I might even have your money. Just a couple more days" i waved the gun thinking about “fine dave just till Wednesday, of you stop whining” he quickly grabbed his jacket "thank you thank you" "just dave so you know if you try to run. Ill make your death. Slow. Painful. Unforgivable. " he nodded quickly and ran out. I smirked as sam and cas came in to the lounge looking confused. ‘’well boys the job is done so time for drinks.

a few rounds later

I sat at the private bars waiting for the bartender, as he headed my way I was about to order a drink when a voice cut me off, ‘’Hi, can I have three beers please’’ her voice was soft and sweet and yet she sounded strong catching my attention, ‘’wow, three beers, I'm impressed sweetheart’‘ I leaned against the bar flashing an ‘innocent’ smile. soon I was met with the most dazzling (y/e/c) and a shy smile. ‘’heh do yo flirt with every girl that orders more than one drink’?’’ she questioned carefully pulling a strand of her (H/C) behind her ear, I caught my bottom lip between my teeth chuckling. ‘’ ah only the pretty ones’’ she blushed at that compliment ‘’ hm I bet you just say that’’ she said grabbing the beers the bartender set down she nodded and gave a small smile, thanking him, ‘’well I'm guessing you either came here with people or its been a rough day’’ she giggled ‘’I don't think I should tell you, I barley know your name’’ she said lifting an eyebrow.

‘’ well if you insist sweetheart, its Dean, Dean Winchester’’ and two girls who I thought I wouldn't see tonight appear by her side. What in the hell?