#when the closest thing you have to a mother made you murder innocent children for a bet.

[everysongineverykey]

i love how unfatherly crowley and aziraphale both are when it comes down to it. sure aziraphale is more than willing to give the young people in his life help and advice and be their friend but he and crowley spent six years (eleven in the book) practically raising a kid (you just know his parents weren't around that often) and by the end they didn't even like him. crowley even suggested they just fucking kill him. he turned three kids into lizards for annoying him right after he destroyed their house. like it was that or kill them obviously but he did NOT hesitate with the newts. that's so funny to me. they're just inherently disinclined to parenthood. we need more characters like them actually

[westerosiqueens]

continued | @notenoughmuses

Viserys looks at his sister, his eyes set on her and there is a fire that’s never raged quite this fiercely inside him before. His home is burned to the ground. The throne room was decimated and she cared not. She cared not for the small folk she’d burned, who had been innocent. He remembered his sweet sister who tried stopped Dothraki from raping and killing more woman than they already had. The sweet sister who had grown a bit standoffish and guarded as she made her way to slavers bay. Who’d had let him back in her life after a time.  Who had freed the slaves and unsullied. Given them a better life. The small folk eventually seemed to prosper.

But this....Kings Landing....The burning stench of bodies still lingered in the air and he took a deep breath doing his best to control the rage that was burning inside him. She’d lost her closest advisors and betrayal was surely everywhere for her in too many places and he knew very well how that kind of paranoia could change someone all too quickly.  As Dany asked her question, Viserys found himself going closer to her.  “That you are to be some great messiah to the small folk? That you and Drogon are the great stallion that will mount the world? You or Jon are that damned Azhor Ahai? Which lie Dany? There are so many you’ve told yourself, let yourself believe.” His lilac eyes grew darker the more he spoke, his voice raising as he crept closer. “The lie that you aren’t weak? That you can’t show mercy? You showed mercy many a times before we came to Westeros. Not always but you did. Now...now you have taken our words to heart and to far.  Fire and blood.” He gestures off to the smoldering city before them and he feels his heart ache. He wanted to come back home, to unseat the usurpers but never like this, never with such utter chaos. “The throne is meant for our family and that means Jon as well. He is our nephew. Our sweet fool of a brothers son. Dany. We can do all you want to help the people of Westeros but not like this. Burning slavers in one thing but this...Fuck. I still cannot believe you. You don’t have Targaryen blood in you anymore. You have the Dothraki in you. You’ve pillaged burned and raped the people of Westeros. You’ve done worse than any of our ancestors...than our own father!” Viserys is no longer quiet. No longer showing restraint. “Our father was murdered for wanting to burn all of Kings Landing. Do you think the people here will not want to do the same to you?! Do you not care? You said when you first came to Dragonstone that you did not want to be the Queen of Ashes and now look at you....you should add that to your list of tittles you’ve acquired. Breaker of Chains. Mother of Dragons. The Unburnt.”Viserys scoffed and his face didn’t mask the feelings of anger, hurt, disgust and irritation. “You hide behind all of them, you use your dragons. You’ve only gathered the support of the Khals and Unusllied because of your children. You may have grown into a Khalessi but nothing more had those dragon eggs not hatched. You’re weak Dany, weak to your own mind and fears. Your paranoid and I do not blame you but do you want to become what I had before my exile? You surely can remember what I was like, how cruel and hateful I was. I cared not for your safety then, but I do now. You can stop this crusade here, unite the peoples mercifully. With Jon by our side we can do this. You know he and the others won’t tolerate what you have ordered Grey Worm to commit. Our enemies have surrender more than enough, the lions are dead. The stags are gone.”

His words mounted in the pit of her stomach one at a time, tiny chunks of ice building into a freeze that spread through her whole body. She was being burned alive, but cold. She felt like she was falling, not towards the earth, but away from reality altogether.

She had convinced herself of all those things. Breaker of Chains... She had broken all of those chains, then covered them with the blood of thousands - freedom from slavery for a chance to die in fire and blood, indeed.

And then he said the worst, the very suggestion not adding to the chill in her every bone, but a knife of ice plunged right into her heart. "I have done too much to just hand the throne over to some pretty face from the North!" she practically screamed. "You know what it is to be denied your right better than I, even!" An oblique reference to the fact that she had co-opted his own claim to the throne, which had long gone unacknowledged between them. "How dare you suggest that I went through everything I did to get here only to offer it to Jon Snow! He knows nothing of ruling. He may be Rhaegar's son, but that does not make him a dragon, nor does it make him a king.

"I am weak? *You* have grown weak, brother! You, who impressed upon me who we were, where we came from, what we'd lost. You, who first claimed the name of dragon when you cautioned me not to wake it. You, who opened my eyes to our true nature - or are you *not* Viserys of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, and heir to the Iron Throne after me?"

She was shouting now, her voice taught with her righteous fury. "We hare the last blood of Old Valyria, the last of the Dragon Riders. Aegon conquered using the words and force of our house and our dragons. You say I have changed since Essos. I have seen the vile differences between Essos and Westeros. I am Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, no strangers to what would be regarded as the barbaric practices of the Dothraki, and even I am disgusted by the uncivilized brutishness of these people of Westeros. Aegon was right, and conquered they will be, and better off for it in the end."

[linkspooky]

TOJI AND MAKI

The parallels between the two outcasts of the zenin clan have already been pointed out plenty of times in canon, for example they're both incredibly buff. However, I thought I would take a deeer look at both characters, as they share both a role as the abused child that destroys the system that created them, and the same fatal flaw.

1. The Child Who is Not Embraced by the Village Will Burn it Down to Feel its Warmth

"The Ones who Walk Away from Omelas" is a 1973 work of short philosophical fiction, about a summer festival in the utopian ity of OMelas, whose prosperity depends on the perpetual misery of a single child. The idea is written around the idea of the scapegoat, a reoccurring trope in stories where someone innocent is blamed, or outcast for the mistakes of other characters.

All of this to say that both Maki and Toji represent the archetype of the scapegoats of their generation. Just like the child of Omelas, all of the problems in the Zenin household are blamed on one child.

This is something Ogi does to Maki directly, and also Naoya recognizes that the other members of the clan did to Toji. They were unable to face their own inferiority, so they blamed it on a scapegoat. Ogi blames his failure to become the head of the clan on his children. The entire clan is unable to recognize Toji's strength, because it would make them question their traditionally held notions of strength, Toji requires the use of weapons and can fight without cursed techniques, which means the cursed techniques they were born with don't make them inherently better with other people.

This is also related to Gojo's criticisms of Jujutsu Society at large, of which the Zenin Household is a very toxic microcosm of. Gojo's critique is that the previous generation will sacrifice the lives of the younger generation, to maintain their power, and in the name of pointless tradition. In the Zenin family "tradition" is the idea that inherited curse technique determines a person's worth.

Their entire system is built around one, keeping cursed techniques in the clan, and two, passing down inherited curse techniques from father to child. Which would go farther to explain the treatment of women by the clan, but we're not getting into that this time. Basically, the "peace" and the "superiority" of the household are built on the idea of marking and scapegoating an outsider, that is anyone who doesn't fit in with the clan's traditions. "If you are not of the Zenin Clan you are not a sorcerer, and if you are not a sorcerer then you are not even Human". That quote alone should explain how Maki and Toji were both treated as subhuman 'monkeys' by everyone around them.

However, the story shows us by both Toji and Maki snapping how terrible these abusive power structures are. One person cannot handle all of that alone, so they snap. Of course they snap. It's not a sign of who Toji and Maki are as people, but rather how no one deserves to be treated that way. A major reocurring theme in Jujutsu Kaisen is no one person alone, can take responsibility for everything, not even Gojo who is the strongest can save everyone he wants to save or be responsible for all of society he needs allies too. Toji, and Maki without allies, they snap and lash out against the same abusive power structure that created them. They are so thoroughly othered by everyone around them, that they embrace their own inhumanity, Maki becomes a weapon bent on killing her family even murdering her own mother, and Toji outright calls himself a monkey.

This is also why Toji is referred to as the "destroyer of destinies" there are two reasons for this. One, Gege is making a thematic point here. The abusive system built on othering and excluding children among other things doesn't actually provide the stability it promises. The center does not hold. The abuse of the system perpetuates and only leads to more destruction. Toji's outcasting isn't something that just hurt Toji alone, everyone felt the consequences of it because the abusive system proliferates and only causes further destruction. The second reason is a Jungian idea on which the story is based on. Toji himself is much like a curse created by the actions of his entire family. If Mahito is created from the fear humans have for each other and acts as the shadow of humanity representing their dark side, Toji metaphorically represents the combined shadow and dark side of the zenin clan. In Watch Man, Rorsarch monologues about how the accumulated filth of all of the abuses that happen in the city will one day rise up and affect everyone.

"This city is afraid of me, I have seen it's true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will form up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout save us and I'll look down and whisper no."

This is expressing the same Jungian idea, a society that ignores these problems will only cause the muck to rise up further and further until it affects everyone. The Zenin clan was a microcosm for the abuses of Jujutsu Society as a whole, they weren't the only ones affected by their abuse because abuse perpetuates. They endured it until they snapped and then acted out that abuse. The Jungian idea put forth is that this sort of reckoning was always going to happen, as long as the Zenin clan continues to create these outcasts in order to hold themselves up as superior, another Toji will happen.

2. Love is the Worst Curse of Them All

Toji and Maki also share the same flaw as people. Their abuse revolved around the idea of outcasting them from the rest of the family, othering them, continually putting them down and also most likely not even doing the job of raising them as children or providing them with the help they needed. We don't see much of it, but in the databook apparently Toji regularly had cursed spirits sicked on him to mock him, and Maki was locked in the cursed spirit room as punishment.

This taught them not only do they need to be strong on their own, but also in order to prove themselves they both thought they needed to be stronger than anyone else in the clan. Toji left Jujutsu Society as a whole, whereas Maki just left the house, both of them with the motivation of proving themselves stronger than the people who looked down on them.

This strong sense of individualism is their greatest strength, and also their weakness, as the situation is more complicated than being stronger than a bully. Maki and Toji are made to feel alone because of their abuse, however, neither Maki nor Toji suffer their abuse alone.

Mai was abused right alongside Maki, they were both outcasts due to being twins. There's no point in arguing which one of them had it worse, because Ogi was perfectly willing to kill both daughters right alongside each other. Maki does and doesn't remember that Mai is right alongside her in her abuse, it's... a bit complicated.

I mention this because Makiaated reason why is that she would have hated herself if she stayed inside that household with Maki. She put pursuit of becoming a stronger sorcerer above her relationship with her sister.

Maki later states "I can't create a place where Mai would feel like she belongs". I don't believe that was always her intention from the start that she secretly left the household for Mai's sake, and wanted to get stronger to create a place where Mai belongs, because Maki's always been really clear she was doing it for her own sake. I think rather after the loss she suffered in Shibuya, and also the fight she had with her sister in the school met, that she came to change her mind and realized she wasn't just in this alone. She changed her mind, that she wanted to be together with Mai, but she didn't change it in time and tragedy struck.

I mention this because Maki and Toji both share the same tragic flaw. Both of them have no idea how to be close even to the people they love, so they end up pushing away the ones they love the most. Maki continually shows behavior of pushing away Mai, and in Toji's case he does everything he can to try to show himself he doesn't love his son.

Maki continually pushes away her sister Mai. Mai reacts to getting pushed away in a not-so-healthy way. Toji full on deadbeats his son. He doesn't raise him or participate in his life to the point where Megumi can't remember his face or name at all. Toji did everything he could to try to give Megumi to someone else, anyone else other than him and avoided his responsibility as a father.

It doesn't come from malice on Toji and Maki's part, but rather it's a less savory aspect of their abuse. Both Toji and Maki believe themselves to be worthless, and that they can't be accepted or loved. They've internalized the way the clan has treated them. They are so isolated that this comes out in how they treated their closest loved ones, their response is to always push them away and isolate themselves further. Toji narrates this, he chose to throw his son aside because he wanted to affirm himself and prove that he was better than Jujutsu Society. Maki says to Mai that she left the house and left Mai because staying would have meant hating herself.

They are both trying desperately to prove themselves as individually strong, to the point where loving anyone else, or even requiring that love from someone is a weakness. They prove they are strong by avoiding the vulnerability of loving someone else. Toji and Maki both try to separate themselves from their heart in order to become even more physically stronger. For Toji his heart was his son Megumi who he did everything to distance himself, forgetting his name, selling him to the Zenin clan, while at the same time paradoxically believing that he was somehow protecting Megumi and arranging for things that would have been better than Toji just stepping up as a father and taking care of him.

At the same time Maki pushes Mai away when Mai does not want that, and believes that also she can return to the clan and make it a safe place for her sister by being individually stronger than everyone else.

They both approach their loved ones this way, because they were taught that one, they are unworthy of love, and they choose to try to get stronger by throwing away anything that might make them vulnerable.

TWhich is why Maki breaks so hard, and lashes out at everyone when Mai is gone, because Maki believed that keeping Mai separate from herself and protecting her was her way of showing love.

However, Mai and Megumi are like... people. They're people entirely separate from Maki and Toji and also affected by their actions. Megumi was neglected his entire lives, whereas Mai didn't get to have a relationship with her sister and felt like she was worthless and only holding her sister back. This is the central idea of Toji and Maki's abuse narrative, that abuse is complicated, and abuse proliferates and hurts people you don't even intend for it to hurt. It has consequences. Megumi suffers the consequences of the Zenin family's abuse because it turned Toji into such an unfit and emotionally immature father. Mai was being abused alongside Maki, and even ended up dying from her abuser's hand as her father Ogi beat her half to death and locked her in a room. Now, as a consequence Maki is lashing out at everything around her. That's also why the connection between Toji and Maki is drawn, to show that as long as the abusive institution still stands, it's just going to keep creating more outcasts like Toji and Maki.

[barnesandco]

Little Hands (V)

Series Masterlist

Bucky treats you to a day out. 

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo​ 2021. Word count: 1625. Square filled: “Lucky (Clint’s dog)”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Police. Sad child.

A/N: This is so late and I am so sorry. Let me know what you think! And massive thank you’s to anyone who is still reading this disaster.

Morning brings a new perspective, a new ease in the way Bucky moves around Ana. He pretends he doesn’t know that you witnessed the way they bonded last night, and for that benefit you don’t bring it up. It’s discussed and laid to rest with the intelligent smile you give him, one that he lets dissolve through his sternum and curl around his heart. Tendrils of soft hope, wisps of quiet connection, strengthening the friendship you’ve established and glinting with promise of something more.

Something more might have to wait, but Bucky thinks you’ve made it clear that it is there, on the horizon, awaiting you both. A future, one that, on his part, also involves the little soul that sits on top of the kitchen island, swinging her legs into the cabinets. Children are early risers, and so are superheroes, but today, on this cool morning, Anastasia has them beat.

So, it’s just the three of you. Bucky, and Anastasia, and you. You’re cutting up fruit and washing berries for the pancakes he’s making while you also remotely monitor the tea. A minty brew, warm, topped with honey and lemon, sharp enough to wake lingering drowsiness while still soothing, syrup-soft. You know your stuff, and Bucky’s glad to have a change of pace after a fast week of too much too strong too sweet coffee, even if he chooses to have it that way.

This particular change of pace would give him whiplash if not for the fact that he got a good night’s sleep, Anastasia’s nightmares notwithstanding. It has strengthened his resolve to find her a child psychologist, somebody who can help her better than he can, once this ordeal with Tobias Zola is over and they are all safe.

He needs to keep her safe. It was her mother’s – no, her final caretaker’s – last wish and request, and now that they are tied by blood, it has become his. She really looks so much like him. Her hair hasn’t developed the same brown yet, it’s still a shade lighter, with hints of golden for the lesser age, the summer sun bleaching that has yet to pass. It’s curly like his never was, likely an affectation of whatever female contribution is in her genetics.

Her genetics. Bucky shakes his head at the frying pan. He doesn’t want to sound like one of the scientists that put her into this situation, into this cruel, cruel world.

A clearing of your throat breaks him out of the thought bubble, and he flips the last pancake out of the pan and onto a plate, much to Anastasia’s delight. The ensuing giggle is the closest thing he’s heard to laughter from the kid. That’s not good. Children need laughter. He makes himself, and Ana, a silent promise to be more uplifting.

“Do you think we could leave the Compound, today?” You ask, out of nowhere, as you place the assorted fruit on the table. Ana, whose hands is halfway to the strawberries, stops as she waits on Bucky’s answer. Clearly, this is something she wants, too. Who is he to deny them?

“Sure. Fury might want us to take some security measures, but we should be fine.”

-----

That’s how they wind up at an ice cream parlor by 10 am, after the security has been cleared with Fury and Sam, and the only addition to their little team is Lucky, a dog apparently shared by Clint and his protégé in the city, one Kate Bishop. They’ve been told that while not a trained security dog, Lucky has sensors that will let Kate know if they’re in danger, and she can provide and send further backup. The rest of the Avengers are busy with tracking down leads to Zola.

Bucky knows he can protect you and Ana just fine, should need be, and isn’t worried about the fact that the only bodyguard they’ve been provided with is canine. Ana has bonded with the dog and walks with one hand in the fur by its shoulder and the other in his own hand, her eyes flitting between the sights of the city and her companions. Her caretakers. Her guardians.

The ice cream place is a little business that another one of Steve’s children is working at on weekends. is a head shorter than Bucky, and terrifies the living wits out of him. She’s one hell of a people watcher, she has a sweet tooth and a thing for Jane Austen, and the world is lucky her foremost interest is in dessert making and not something far more nefarious, like say, espionage.

She greets Bucky at the door with a hug and shakes both your and Ana’s hands, and lets you all sit outside so you can be with Lucky. The rusty fall sun makes Lucky’s fur shine like spun gold and light Ana up in hues of ruby and topaz, and you turn your face to the light and sigh.

For a moment, the world is quiet. For a moment, the scent of sugar crystallizes on his face like the sensation of rightness does. And when it ends, it’s not with a crash landing. It’s a gentle reorientation. You open your eyes, look at him with immeasurable affection. Ana pets Lucky. Vivien says, “Let me know when you’re ready to order, Uncle Bucky,” and puts a menu on the table.

You decide on a mango ice cream shake, Bucky wants an Oreo sundae, and Ana, of course, demands the largest dish on the menu, the one whose picture is emblazoned across a good quarter of the laminated card. A massive ice cream and berry split.

When your order arrives, Anastasia laughs for the second time. Bucky thinks he should say something, make a joke, conversation, but in this moment, nothing else could feel so forced. He’s a man of few words and many services. That’s how he chooses to love, and Ana can see that. You can see that.

It's why you nod affirmingly when he meets your eyes over Ana’s mountain of ice cream. You carry entire sentences in your glances, words of silent confidence, the fuel he is feeding on right now.

-----

Ana is happy. The world, if for a few hours, is right. He knows it cannot last, even now, walking back to the car after a morning and afternoon of joy, arms laden down with bags of new things, treats he never had but can now provide. Despite the resignation that has started to weigh on him, he reminds himself: his daughter has a home. She will be safe, and he will take care of her, no matter what it takes.

-----

The car ride back is louder than he anticipated. You give the music a go, playing something by Raveena, a sweet voice he likes but that Ana talks over, making quite the chaotic symphony that he likes even more. Lucky contributes the occasional bright bark that makes Ana laugh, pausing her incessant chatter, if momentarily.

Mostly, she talks about what she saw, the things she has now started to process, asks questions about the stores she did not previously have the luxury to, presumably because her previous guardian didn’t have the means, and besides, they were on the run.

He’s grateful to her. Irene. Before he was confused but now it is obvious: Ana is his daughter, and he wants her as much as any other parent does their child, even if the way she was thrown into her life was unconventional, to say the least.

Looking at her in the rearview mirror as she twists in her seat to reach Lucky in the back, he knows he will move heaven and earth to remove the threats in her path. It makes him dangerous. It makes him a father.

“You okay?” You ask, following his gaze, and Bucky smiles, eyes returning to the road.

“Never better.”

Your hand finds his where it takes a break from the steering wheel to rest on his knee. He twists your joined hands until he can hold yours. Squeezes it, as if to say, thank you. As if to say, we’ll all be okay.

-----

Turns out, he’s wrong, and this is why you should never rely on routines. Promises are made to be broken. When they get back, the NYPD is waiting, and not to update them on the case. He sees the waiting handcuffs, and he knows you do, too.

You make the right move, trying to usher Ana out of the room with some excuse or other, but it’s too late. Her instincts have latched onto the fact that something is very, very wrong.

The DA says, “James Buchanan Barnes, you’re under arrest as a suspect in the murder of Irene Orlov,” and Ana screams, and screams, and screams.

Bucky tries not to close his eyes, knows it’s too late to put his hands over his ears as cuffs close around his wrists. Besides, he needs to show that he understands the charges, and yes, they’re reading him his Miranda rights, and yes, he understands.

He’s innocent. And his team will prove it. But it’s no use arguing with these people, so he goes silently, even as he hears Sam, Steve and Nat going at it with the police chief in the dull background of Ana’s roar. It’s no use. The police wouldn’t be here without reason, and they’ll let him go when his team finds them reason to.

Everything is going to be okay, he tells himself. It has to. Because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if it isn’t.

Bucky sees you, tear-sodden and holding onto a distraught Ana, in the reflection of the glass doors before they slide open.

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding Part VI - Star Wars Time Travel AU

Part I - - - - -  Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V 

Anakin watched Obi-Wan through the stalks for several minutes. He could see him kneeling at the base of the waterfall, occasionally glancing around, as if searching for someone. Just when he was about to break and interrupt him, Obi-Wan stood and walked over. They sat together on the low bench, surrounded by the carefully cultivated colored fungi. 

“Obi-Wan...maybe we should talk about what’s going on with you. Whatever it is, I’m here for you.” Anakin offered hesitantly.

Obi-Wan tensed, hands clenching in his lap. 

“No.” 

“Master Windu and Bant both seemed to think this isn’t a drug thing. Please, let-”

“That wasn’t what I was saying no to.” 

Obi-Wan stood and began threading a path through the mushrooms, careful not to step on any of the smaller ones. Anakin was forced to follow directly in his footsteps, not wanting to risk damaging something Obi-Wan clearly seemed to care about, but wishing he could look at his Master’s face.

“Did I ever tell you about Bruck Chun?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No. Who’s Bruck?” Anakin responded with deliberate patience.

“He was an old crechemate of mine, quite gifted, though he had a temper. There have been times you remind me of him. We were rivals.” They were approaching the end of the alcove, a large stone overhang throwing them in to shadow.

“Were?”

“He died. When we were twelve.”

When they reached the rock face, Obi-Wan started climbing straight up. Anakin followed. Several clicks above the floor, Obi-Wan squeezed his way into a narrow crack, invisible from the floor below. Anakin followed. They awkwardly shuffled along the passage until Obi-Wan suddenly dropped out of sight. Anakin followed.

They landed in a hidden alcove. It was half lit by sunlight filtering in from cracks above, and half lit by the glow of mushrooms and crystals tenaciously embedded in the rock face around.

“Oh.” Anakin said softly. “Is this where you go when you visit the fountains to meditate?”

“No, I hadn’t been here in years.” Obi-Wan answered wistfully. “I started getting too big, didn’t want to damage the passageway too much. I figured some other younglings would stumble upon it someday like I did. I’m sorry. I avoided this room for the first year or two of your padawanship. By the time I even thought to share it, you had already grown so big...”

He sat down, legs stretched out in front. Anakin sat next to him, mirroring his position.

“I’m glad you’re sharing it with me now.” Anakin smiled reassuringly, but Obi-Wan was staring ahead blankly.  

The young knight swallowed nervously. “Did you...come here with Bruck?”

Obi-Wan let out a snort. “Gods, no! I hid here from him. Before we were rivals, he bullied me relentlessly.”

“And...this is the guy you said I remind you of?” Was he being insulted?

“At times. Math lessons, saber practice, none of that ever came easy to me. But you and him...you never even needed to study. And you do have a vicious streak, Anakin.”

Rather than try to argue in vain against the slight hurt, Anakin just asked, “How did he die?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “He fell.” 

Anakin jerked in surprise, “Wait, you mean-”

“We were fighting at the top of the waterfall- it- he had nearly killed Bant. He was angry that we both had been chosen by Masters, and Xanatos used that to manipulate him into helping with an attack on the temple. Bruck was lashing out. He was a better swordsmen, but his anger made him unbalanced. I knocked him back. And he fell. I’ve forgotten a lot of details about him as a person, but I still remember his body at the bottom of the falls.”

"That’s...awful. I’m sorry.” Anakin said helplessly. He had known the bare basics of Xanatos’s fall, but clearly not the full story.

Obi-Wan sighed, leaning slightly to press their shoulders together. Anakin scootched over to try and provide a little extra silent comfort.

“I thought I had learned to live with my guilt over my part in what happened to him, but I suppose recent events have torn open old scars, so to speak.”

Anakin held his breath, Obi-Wan didn’t add anything else. 

“Obi-Wan” he tried to nudge gently. 

“Hmm?”

Anakin lost his patience, jumping up. “Master, please!” He half yelled, looming over his Master. A flash of fear crossed Obi-Wan’s expression as he looked up, which immediately halted the fit of rage. 

He knelt down penitently, “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, I shouldn’t have yelled, but please, let me help. I won’t get mad like that again, I swear. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

“You’re not.” Obi-Wan whispered, expression blank. He shuddered all over, fists clenching tightly.

“You’re NOT here for me!” Obi-Wan shouted, suddenly offended. “How can you POSSIBLY claim to be there for anyone after what you-” Obi-Wan seemed to choke on the words. He let out a strangled cry and pulled his knees up to his chest. Tears welled, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Anakin stared wide-eyed, cold all over. “This...this is about something I did. I don’t understand. You... told me a few hours that I’m dear to you, what...what could I have done since then to make you...I don’t understand.”

“You know what you did.” Obi-Wan let out. “And the fact that learning about it didn’t stop me from caring about you doesn’t help, it just makes the heartbreak a thousand times more painful.”

Anakin racked his brain wildly. This couldn’t be about his marriage with Padme, right? He told him this morning that he didn’t mind the sneaking off. There was only one screw-up big enough that could possibly warrant this severe a reaction, and only two people alive knew about that, both sworn to secrecy.

“The younglings,” Obi-Wan whispered. “You - you didn’t even spare the younglings.” Obi-wan looked gutted, terrified. 

Anakin felt like he had been dropped in ice water. This was- this was his worst fear- that Obi-Wan would learn about his darkest failing as a Jedi and be ashamed of him, angry at him, would abandon him. He had already made his judgement. How could he have even learned about about the Tuskens?

“Padme-” he breathed out. “Padme told-”

“No!” Obi-Wan denied desperately, lurching forward. “Padme would never betray you! I would never betray you! We both love you, Anakin. Please, some part of you must know that! You must!”

His master seemed frantic, fingernails digging painfully into Anakin’s arm.

“You love me?” Anakin asked brokenly, heart cracked open.

Obi-Wan let go of Anakin to curl in on himself again. He seemed very small. It hurt to look at.

“I think its safe to say at this point that there’s nothing you could, no betrayal or atrocity you could commit that would make me stop loving you. Despite what you’ve done, you’re my brother, my son- of course I love you. The fact that I led you to doubt my love for you might be my greatest failing, though there are so many its hard to really say.” Obi-Wan sounded utterly defeated.

Anakin’s heart was pounding. This was a nightmare and a childhood dream. Obi-Wan loved him unconditionally, but he knew about his slaughter of the Tusken's and was ashamed. This couldn’t be real. He can’t know.

“Palpatine-” Anakin tried to ask.

Obi-Wan growled. “I do not need to talk about how that power-hungry liar systematically worked to tear us apart. I want to know why you would-” he cut himself off again.

Palpatine told Obi-Wan- that was more than he could even begin to process.

"I’m sorry, Master. I’m so sorry for failing you.” The words came desperately tumbling out, “I was just- I was so angry about my mom’s death and-”

“Your mother’s death? You killed innocent children for the sake of your Mother?! I don’t- how could anyone possibly rationalize-” Obi-Wan hissed out, truly angry for the first time that day. He took a deep breath and pulled himself upright.

“Your mother’s death was a terrible tragedy and I will forever regret my role in it. I should have tried harder to free her, for her own sake. I was so afraid that if I pushed for permission with the council they would think I was failing you, and they would take you from me. I made- so many decisions out of attachment, out of fear of losing you, and in the end I hurt you so badly you couldn’t trust me. You didn’t trust me with the truth of your visions, so I gave you bad advice born of misunderstanding, and your mother died horribly. I- I can see how you would blame the Jedi for that, even if its not rational. I certainly understand why you would blame me for that, why you would hate me because of her death.”

Obi-Wan scrubbed at his face mercilessly, practically tearing skin in his haste to wipe away snot and tears.

“But why, if you were getting revenge, would you kill the children and not me?” “Why couldn’t you just kill me and be satisfied?” He finally looked straight at Anakin, asking like it was a real question.

Anakin was horrified. After a few false starts he finally choked out, “Master, I love you. I told you, you’re the closest thing I have to a father. You’re the last person I could ever kill.”

“The last person you could ever kill,” Obi-Wan echoed back, looking pained.

“Please, Master, tell me how to fix this. I want to make things right. How can I fix things?” Anakin begged.

“That’s not a fair question. You can’t unmurder people. You can’t put them back together like a- an engine or a droid- ”

“There has to be something I can do to make you forgive me!” Anakin said desperately. “You can’t just tell me you love me and then say I’m an irredeemable monster!”

“Well that’s an entirely different matter, though no less cruel to think about.”

He leaned into Anakin’s side once more, the press providing a hint of warmth even in the unshakable cold. “Anakin, it isn’t very rational or fair of me, but it wouldn’t really take that much to get me to forgive you. Kriff, if you just acted sorry for what you had done.” Obi-Wan sighed.

“If you told me that you regretted the lives you took and swore you were going to stop murdering, force help me, I’d probably take you back in an instant. All I ever wanted was to help you be the best version of yourself.”

“I’m sorry.” Anakin said immediately. “I’m so, so sorry for what I did. I lost control of myself because I was scared, and angry, and suffering and, and then I was so scared that you would hate me that I pretended it was ok, and I told myself that they deserved to die, but how could children ever deserve to die and please Master I’ll throw away my lightsaber just please, please don’t leave me, I need you, please-” and the rest of the words dissolved into large, ugly sobs.

Obi-Wan keened and pulled Anakin into his lap like he was a child again. Anakin scrabbled at his cloak, desperately trying to hold on. The terrible chill that had been haunting him slowly started to fade away as he was rocked back and forth. 

After a minute, Anakin got enough of a hold on himself to consider trying to stop blubbering like a crecheling on his Master’s robes. But he quickly realized that Obi-Wan was also crying, so instead threw his arms around the older man and let himself go.

An uncertain amount of time passed before they both slowed from heaving sobs, to dry hiccups, to quiet whimpers. Eventually they ended up laying in a heap, boneless but for their hold on each other. And finally, the cavern was more or less silent.

Anakin felt physically lighter, mind clear like he had just completed an extremely successful meditation session.

Without a word, they slowly shifted so they were leaning on the wall instead of sprawled on the ground. Obi-Wan pulled his robe off, first using it to wipe his face, then tenderly cleaning his Padwan’s. 

Anakin just chuckled. 

Obi-Wan threw the robe so it covered the two of them, which was a little gross, but that only made Anakin snort giddily. 

They sat there peacefully for sometime. The shadows from above started shifting, and Obi-Wan sighed, “I really should go eat something.”

Anakin sighed back at him in agreement. They both stretched in the small space, joints popping.

“Do you need to walk through the rest of the gardens first?” Anakin asked.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied, tenderly fussing with his kid’s hair and robes so they looked presentable. “This was...more than I could have hoped for.”

Anakin beamed, giving Obi-Wan one last quick hug before gesturing upwards. “Time to get back to the real world?” he joked with a hint of regret.

“Time to get back to the real world.” Obi-Wan repeated heavily.

Part VII

[her-world-on-fire]

Atlas {Jason Todd x Reader}

MASTERLIST

REQUEST HERE

Word Count: 3,720

Prompts: ii. and vii. ❝i am calm. i am nothing but calm all the time.❞ ❝no, you're not. you're fifteen seconds from starting a fight at all times.❞ & ❝i'm surprised you haven't killed him yet.❞ ❝i keep trying but nobody ever let me get that far.❞ 

"JASON CALM DOWN!" I pressed my hand against his chest, looking into his eyes fiercely, we didn't the time for his temper. He broke away and walked away but not before he shot the guy in the leg. "We weren't here, or the next one goes in your brain." He said slowly and then turned back to me. His piercing blue eyes felt almost cold, I blinked in shock. I've seen him angry more times than I can count but this was unsettling."I am calm. I am nothing but calm all the time." He said through clenched teeth, making me scoff as we jumped off of the roof. We broke out into a sprint, by now I regained my composure. "No, you're not. you're fifteen seconds from starting a fight at all times."  Jason was a hothead, he was so angry at the world. He tried his hardest to make sure it was safe at night but he felt like he didn't make a difference so he was pissed off. He was pissed off that so many bad people got to live and kill good innocent people. The bad people got to tear mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, from their families. So his solution ironically was to do the same thing. He would kill those who he thought deserved it. Contradictory but his temper always got the best of him. Normally I would let him be angry, but not tonight. We had an agreement with Bruce, we needed his help. The agreement included no killing. As much as Jason hated it we couldn't do it ourselves this time, it was bigger than us. 

For months we had been trying to investigate why the number of children missing spiked. At first, it was hard to notice. Street kids those who wouldn't be looked for. Then foster kids would be adopted more frequently finally, normal kids began to be abducted. Street kids would never leave each other, they were the closest thing to a family they had. So when they began reaching out to us we got worried and looked into it. We went around Gotham talking to them, they knew who we were and confessed everything. "Something is going on Jay. Something big." We climbed on his bike and went back to our apartment. We had been living together shortly after we started working together. We would always end up together at the end of the night too tired to go back to our own apartment. So we decided to get an apartment together. We each had our own rooms because we needed time apart sometimes. That was one of the most important things I learned. Sometimes you just need to be alone. It can be overwhelming spending so much time with one person. Especially the lack of sleep, and frustrations over unsolved cases, it all just took a toll on us. He took his helmet off and sighed running a hand through his hair. I pulled up my computer and looked into news articles. Of course, nothing had been mentioned about street kids. I was just about to put the paper down when my eyes drifted to a suggestion. 

Percentage of foster kids adopted in Gotham rises

"No fucking way." I breathed, Jason loomed over my shoulder. I looked back at him, we shared a look. This wasn't a coincidence, someone was taking kids. No bodies were being found so why were they being taken? I had a couple of theories already. I stood up from the screen and pulled on  my jacket, "Where are you going?" He asked following after me, keys still in hand. "To find out what the hell is going on." We tried to figure it out ourselves but it seemed like we were always 10 steps behind. So I suggested we get help. Outright, Jason was outraged I even suggested it so I walked away and let him cool down. Sure enough, he came around once he began thinking straight. I handed him his helmet, I had already turned his bike on, I smirked. He tossed his cigarette, "Not a fucking word." He growled as I tossed it to him and he caught it. 

He got on and sped off, to the Wayne Manor. He scowled, as we arrived at the gates. The doors opened and he pulled in, we were greeted by Alfred. "To what do we owe this surprise?" He asked and I elbowed Jason, he remained silent. I rolled my eyes at his immaturity, "It's nice to see you again Alfred. We're here to talk to the boys." Jason turned to me, even angrier than before. Alfred looked between us and I gave him a polite smile as he walked us in. I lowered my voice, "Don't give me that shit. You know the boys are going to listen in if we want them to or not, better they know straight instead of getting crooked details." I rolled my eyes and gave him a begging look. I took my hand in his, I knew this isn't where he wanted to be and I was trying to keep him calm.

He huffed and then we arrived at the study. It took a while to get there since the Mansion was so big. Jason was boiling, he was so dramatic. We were greeted by Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian. "Both of you are here this can't be good." Damian commented as Jason growled, "Fuck off, Demon spawn." I gave his hand a squeeze and then looked at him Dick sighed as he and Tim exchanged looks. Bruce was deadly silent, waiting for us to explain why we were there. I wasn't going to speak this time, Jason had to say more than 4 words. I cleared my throat and nudged Jason giving him a stern look. He shuffled forward and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "We need your help." He said directly looking at Bruce, both holding their glares. It was amazing how incredibly alike they both were, and they refused to see it. I brushed my fingers over his knuckles, they were icy cold. His rings were even colder making a shiver run down my spine. I didn't even know if he was going to agree. Jason lost control the last time Bruce agreed to help us and I had to work without him. Jason was a pain the whole time, he kept asking for information but I wouldn't give it. I knew if I did he would follow and piss Bruce off. Bruce didn't speak for a long time. I assumed he was still holding the grudge. 

"I'll keep him in check." I paused looking at Jason to make sure he didn't make things worse. He pressed his lips together, no doubt restraining himself by biting his tongue. Still, he didn't say a word. "Please we wouldn't bother you if this wasn't important." The two finally looked at me. Tim stepped forward this time, he spoke in a flurry. He stumbled over his words, "You're not bothering its really good to see you. Not just you. But not that it's not good to see you. It's good to uh see you both." I smiled, some of the tension was gone now.  Dick clamped a hand over Tim's mouth to keep him from babbling further. The boys claimed he had a crush, I thought it was sweet. I looked up at Jason if looks could kill. Tim drove Jason crazy. Dick pet Tim and sighed as Damian snickered, "We talked about this Tim, too much caffeine makes you jittery." Dick chimed in a sing-song voice, almost gloating he told him so. "Speak for yourself I don't like seeing these ugly mugs around here." Dick smacked the back of Damian's head and he growled. 

Jason almost pulled me behind him, it was pure instinct. He was already on edge being back at the mansion. He hated being here, he felt so out of place. He felt like a failure the rest of the boys were still under his wing, it was like he was replaced and pushed out. I wouldn't have dragged him here if I didn't think I had to. He was immediately silenced when Bruce put his hand out to shut everyone up. He rubbed his temple and sighed, "Jason is an adult, he should be able to control himself. If he can't and crosses a line again you're both done." Jason gripped my hand tighter, I knew he was seconds away from giving up keeping his mouth shut. His patience by now was paper-thin. I decided it would be best if I did the rest of the talking. "We understand."

Alfred called Bruce away and he excused himself leaving us with the boys. I saw Tim nudge Dick, and raised an eyebrow. I only caught a fragment of what Tim said, "Please, just ask." He rolled his eyes at his brother letting out a long sigh before he turned to me. "Is your wiring still acting up?" This caught Jason's attention, the wiring in the apartment wasn't acting up. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for my response. I was confused for a moment until it hit me. In my other apartment my lights used to act up, I told Jason about it but he was asleep so I told myself I would tell him later. I never did. "Oh! No, I'm not in the apartment anymore!" I said, making Tim's head drop in shame. I mentioned something about the wiring and Tim most likely wanted to fix it. He seemed very interested whenever there were problems in my apartment, in fact, I'm sure he fixed every broken appliance. It was another reason to move in with Jason. "Oh," Dick said and then looked to Tim, he stepped forward. "You found a new place already?" I looked at Jason. He squirmed under my glare, the boys seemed interested, they could sense it. 

 "Actually, I moved in with Jason." 3 jaws simultaneously dropped. Jason scowled at them and I smirked, "You didn't tell them as I told you to." My voice seemed nice but my eyes were screaming murder. What if they needed me and couldn't reach me? This was something to bring up in private, judging by his look Jason knew that too. Jason turned to me and I pulled his arm and held a finger, "One second," I made it clear that we would continue the conversation later. The boys couldn't hear anything but he was in trouble. There was no hitting so that was a good thing.  Tim whispered, "They moved in together? What does that mean?" Damian rolled his eyes, and Dick sighed. We made our way back to them. "I'm surprised you haven't killed him yet." Damian paused, "And a little impressed you've put up with him for so long." 

"I keep trying but nobody ever let me get that far." There was a swarm of questions I shut my eyes and put my head on Jason's shoulder. My face turned bright red,  Jason smirked and whispered in my ear. "I knew what the fuck I was doing darling." He said slowly taking in the fact that he was right. I underestimated the boys, and he was reveling. He pulled away and gave a short shout. They all stopped clamoring. "God, you guys were going to give me a headache." I brought my fingers to my temple and looked into their eyes. "One at a time please." Dick pushed the two aside murmuring he had privileges. Despite being older, he was just as curious as to his younger brothers. "Why did you move in?" I looked at Jason pleading, and he shook his head. "Not touching these questions with a 10 feet pole." I groaned but accepted my punishment. Maybe there was a reason for the secret. I thought about my answer for a moment then replied, "Well it was more out of convenience. One of us would always end up at the others, and my apartment had bad wiring. So we chose his. He got tired of having to go to mine and get his things. So he suggested it and now we live together." 

Dick looked between us and nodded, satisfied with his answer. It was like an interrogation, and I was taking all of the heat. It was Tim's turn he even raised his hand. I pouted, he looked upset. I never took the whole crush thing seriously. Now I could really see it, this whole time I thought the boys were just teasing him. "Are you two together?" He hesitated and I froze unsure of how to answer. I didn't want to get his hopes up or break his heart but I honestly didn't know what to tell him. It seemed like it, we lived together, we slept together, but we never really talked about it. I looked at Jason he held the same panicked expression. How do could we explain that sometimes we had sex and then never talked about it? I tilted my head to him, to signal for his help. 

He gave me a look, I asked for this. I really did. Nevertheless, he saved me. He too was thinking of the hookups, making him smirk. I covered my face and turned away trying to regain composure. In fact, I knew under Jason's shirt, there were purple marks trailing down his chest and I had ones that matched. He made his higher, and if my shirt were to shift, he could see.  "We need to figure that out ourselves as well," Jason replied. It was a valid answer, Tim didn't seem to torn up about it. My hands absent-mindedly went over to rub my neck. Suddenly, it was hot. Judging by his look, Dick's suspicions were confirmed. Damian broke the silence pushing past Tim. "Do you kill people?" I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. I ran my tongue across my bottom lip. I was so tempted not to answer. I knew it could backfire. Jason looked to me, wondering if he needed to save me again. I shook my head and looked back at Damian. "Due to my past, yes. I try not to now." Growing up in a sketchy place, I learned at a young age you can't depend on people. I fell in with the wrong people and made questionable decisions. However, every time I did kill I felt justified. I used to be as angry as Jason and I lost control a lot. But now working with Jason I calmed down, one of us needed to have a level head and I knew it probably wouldn't be him. I felt dirty now. I really opened a can of worms with that one. When it comes to his brothers I will never doubt Jason again. 

In the next few weeks, we worked closely with the boys.  Each night we got closer, to finding the source. We spent most of our nights in the Batcave tracing leads. Jason was getting antsy, so he went out and patrolled. Lucky that he did, because he caught an abduction as it was happening. "On 45th! They took a group of kids into a van." Jason's voice shouted in my ear. Dick shot up from his seat. The boys pilled into the Batmobile. I took my bike and followed close behind. Jason gave us the coordinates. "How far out are you?" 

"11 minutes."

"We can't wait that long." I could hear the desperation in his voice. He knew exactly what those kids were going through. He was reliving his trauma. "Jason, if we blow this we lose them all. Wait for us. We can't let a single one alert the rest of the group." He went silent. Sensing the urgency we all sped up even more. The Batmobile was easily recognized and most civilians cleared a path. We arrived and saw Jason's bike parked in a nearby lot. He was set up on the roof overlooking the building making sure no one got out. 

"I'm sending the drone," Tim called and released his bird into the air. He guided it into the building giving us a full view of what was inside. Children were in cages, surrounded by men with guns. In the center of the room, there was a table with computers. "They're waiting for the signal." Dick looked at all of us. "This has to be flawless. No mess-ups. We get one shot." 

"Tim, I want you on those computers. I want to know everything on there. The rest of us have one job. Make sure no one gets away." Having received our orders we all grouped up. Tim ran another scan of the building. "Two from the roof, one from the back door, and two from the front." Jason and I took the roof, Dick took the back door and Damian and Tim took the front. 

We all waited for the signal. "Now." Dick spoke into the comms. All at once, we each infiltrated the building. Tim went straight for the men by the computers. He took them out with ease and then uploaded his drive into the computer. Damian kept anyone away from the table. Jason and I focused on the guards who were standing by the children. We were mindful of their weapons and kept them away from the children. 

Each of the men was bounded, ready for the GCPD. "Which one of you fuckers has the key?" Jason asked looking at each one of the men. Neither of them spoke a word. "Fine." He grabbed the closet man and took his hand. He took his index finger and in a swift movement pulled it back. An agonizing scream came from the man, and a loud cracking noise followed right after. I moved to Jason, "Do you really want to traumatize them even more?" He thought for a moment and then looked back at the man. "What about this one?" He grabbed his ring finger and then man yelped. "It's him!" He pointed to a blonde man across the room. I went over and reached in his pockets, sure enough, there was a key. I breathed a sigh of relief and began releasing the children. "How much longer on the drive?" Dick questioned Tim, "30 seconds." 

Dick nodded and looked at me. "Alfred I need GCPD and medical." 

"Right away, ETA is 3 minutes." 

Jason took the same man by the collar and dragged him out of the room. I followed after him. "GCPD will be here in 3 minutes. We stopped them. We know where all their warehouses are, and everything we need is on that drive." I whispered to him but he didn't budge. "I only need 2. This one's a talker." He moved away and then looked at the man. "Who do you report to?" 

"He'll kill me, he knows everything-" Jason didn't let him finish before he landed a devastating blow right to his face. "I don't have time for this. What is his name?" He grabbed his hair and held his face up. Blood trickled down his cheek. "But my-" Once again another blow landed on his face. The man coughed up blood, Jason didn't ask again. He waited for another few seconds. As he went to strike him again, the man pleaded. "Wait! David Benjamin." He managed to get it out. 

--------------------------------------------------

Jason and I only got to stick around briefly. Our relationship with the police wasn't as amicable. Due to our spotty record, we had warrants out for our arrest. Once the children were taken by the EMTs we went back to our apartment. Jason was sitting on the fire escape. He still hadn't changed. The blood still seeping in his clothes. "Hey, come in." Jason looked down and obliged. Once he got in I shut the blinds. I guided him into the bathroom. "Let's get these off." I slowly took off his gloves, he inhaled deeply. I looked over them, they were bloody and raw. I sighed and turned on the warm water. "The rest of these too." My hands moved to his shirt and I pulled I off over his head. There were a few small cuts, but nothing that needed stitches. 

Jason had been silent. I knew what was bothering him. He was thinking about those kids, he saw himself in each one of them. I guided him to the shower and helped him take off the rest of his clothes. I helped him into the shower and once he was under the warm water, it was like he was out of his trance. "Get in here." 

I hadn't changed either. I was too worried about him. He was admitting that he needed the company. I agreed and stripped off my clothes. We both stood under the warm water. Neither of us spoke as we washed away the deeds of the night. 

Once we got out of the shower we got dressed and sat on the bed. "We did it, Jason. They're safe now." 

"I know." He said softly. I took his hands and gently ran my fingers across them. He sighed and looked at me. "Let's go to bed." I moved to the lamp by the bed and shut it off. I pulled the covers on the bed back and climbed into bed. I sighed and felt the warmth comfort me. My body ached, but it was worth it. I felt Jason tug me closer to him. I moved closer and rested my head on his chest. He ran his fingers through my hair absentmindedly. "Thank you." I looked up at him and he exhaled. "I don't know what I would do without you." He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on my lips. His other hand moved around me and rested on my side. "I love you."

"I love you, Jay." 

After weeks of restlessness, Jason finally closed his eyes and slept peacefully.

MASTERLIST

REQUEST HERE

[electronictimetravelmoose]

Ginny Weasley Twin HCs

Warnings: mentions of death

Word Count: ~2,4k

Request: Okay can I get some Headcanons about the reader being Ginny's twin sister and while (at least book) Ginny is brave and courageous and really badass, she's just really shy and small and silent and loves flowers and all that and (just because the gist of it) she's still in Gryffindor (she is extremely Loyal (which is kinda more hufflepuff), but because she'd immediately jump in to save everyone she's in the house. And long story short how the fam and the trio (who all see her as a smol sister) 'deal' with her and maybe what would happen if she'd fall in love with someone you choose (idk, malfoy, neville, Luna, you decide)

Requested by my sweetheart honeybee queen

A/N: I got tired towards the end but here you guys go

------------------------------------------------------------

Before Hogwarts:

when Arthur and Molly got you two they were over the moon

they told each other they would stop getting children when they had a daughter and now they got two beautiful baby girls at once

but also they lowkey hope you don’t turn out like your rambunctious older twin brothers

So first of all you two get absolutely adored by your older brothers, especially Bill and Charlie

those two will carry you around the whole day long and talk to you and play with you, adorable

when Percy starts learning how to read he will read to you two every evening and he won’t take a no from his parents

getting older Fred and George saw new victims for their pranks and Ron being the closest to your age got annoyed by always having to play girl stuff with you two

from a young age on you were quieter than your siblings and often shied away from the activities they did, you wouldn’t even interact with other children that lived close by

Molly and Arthur were concerned about this but let you be, they thought that you would eventually get around to it and boy were they wrong

you were always more interested in nature, the flowers and plants and what different traits and effects they had

besides that you also started learning how to read fairly early on thanks to our favourite family nerd Percy and stuffed your nose in every book that your tiny hands could grab

cooking and baking with your mother was also high on the list of things you enjoyed

honestly your more laid back and quieter demeanor was a blessing for Arthur and Molly

but whatever you did you could never run away from your sister

Ginny was still able to drag you into her stuff

stealing your brothers brooms and going for a ride, putting spiders in Ron’s bed, making tea out of plants that give weird side effects… you did it all and never got blamed for it. i mean, Fred and George usually did those things after all

Hogwarts 1st + 2nd year:

when Ginny and you went to Hogwarts it was quite a surprise for you and your family that you were sorted into Gryffindor

okay hear me out for a second, everyone in your family got sorted there so why would it be a surprise? well you were always far more loyal and hardworking than brave or courageous and your family knew that. besides that the sorting hat took literally five minutes to sort you in because he was in a Hufflepuff/Gryffindor dilemma but non the less here you were standing as a Gryffindor

your first year was far too eventful for your liking and it all started with Ron and Harry driving your fathers car to school on the first damn day, then there was the whole heir of Slytherin thing, students being paralyzed, Ginny being dragged into the chamber of secrets and almost dying, and Harry and your older brother Ron getting down there to save her

what kind of shitshow was this?

after everything that happened in this school year and your siblings getting in danger you promised yourself you would become strong enough to protect them and with that in mind you went into your second year

second year went… better than the first

i mean if you ignored the fact that a mass murderer broke out of Azkaban and the school being guarded by dementors

but at least you now had a competent Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, I see this as a win

you spend most of your time learning and hanging out with your sister and friends you made, one of them being Neville Longbottom, a gryffindor boy one year above you

you two became quick friends during your first year at Hogwarts over your shared love for herbology and you bonded over being shyer individuals

with him you had the most fun and talked was by far the easiest no matter the subject

another friend of you made was Luna Lovegood, a ravenclaw girl in your year which was a more weirder individual but still a lot of fun to be around

and because of Ron your circle of friends expanded to Harry and Hermine

Harry thought you were a really nice contrast to your siblings and Hermine immediately adopted you as her little sister, no questions asked

shortly said, they loved you as well

the year went by mostly uneventful which was nice, then the third year came

Hogwarts 3rd and 4th year:

it started absolutely fantastic even before the school year started because your father and siblings went to the Quidditch World Cup which got run over by Death Eaters at the end of the day while you were at home with your mother

that already warned you about the year to come

at Hogwarts Dumbledore announced the Triwizard Tournament which your school would host that year, which also brought students of two different schools with it, great

also, hahaha, your new DADA teacher was absolutely terrifying in your eyes, good luck

but thankfully stuff went as normal as it can be

then… “Come on Y/N why don’t you help as for once!” “Yeah nobody will know anyways!”

“I am not going to brew you two a bloody aging potion so you can put your names in the goblet of fire and enter that stupid tournament! People have died in it! Besides that if you don’t stop pestering me I will tell this professor McGonagall.”

“You would rat your own brothers out?” “Nobody likes someone like that,”

you blankly stared at them for 20 seconds before they got scared by your expressionless face and left

they left you alone after that, idiots

two months later, the champions got announced, the first task was over, which made you able to see your brother Charlie for a few days, and then the yule ball got announced which meant you got dancing lessons by non other than your head of house professor McGonagall

after the lessons you and Neville would go hang out in one of the green houses and take care of some of the plants, just like now

“It’s so unfair, you are allowed to go to the yule ball but I don’t and I still have to take the dancing lessons.”

“But what if a fourth year asks you to go with him?”

“Oh please Neville nobody would want to go with me!” 

“I would like to go with you.”

cue silence and intense blushing

well if he says it like that…

the evening of the yule ball became yours and Neville's first date and many came after that and so also the start of your relationship

your dates mostly consisted of trips to Hogsmead, picnics and walks along the Hogwarts grounds and study dates

it was amazing

and your first kiss happened in March during one of your many walks

none of you knew how exactly it happened and who made the first step but it was very sweet and innocent

also cuddling while the two of you are on your own is a must, nobody can stop it

you and Neville decided to keep your relationship a secret for the time being and it worked, nobody knew, not even Ginny

then the school year ended and you had to say goodbye for two long months

it was also the time when the order of the phoenix came back and your parents and two oldest brothers became a part of it

you moved into the headquarters at Grimmauld Place and everything got turned upside down

you weren’t supposed to tell anyone about this, which you didn’t, but you couldn’t resist writing letters to Neville

and then someone found out, a little shit by the name of Sirius Black

i mean sooner or later it would have happened but it was a surprise that it was nobody from your family

did he tease you? yes, but he promised not to tell anyone and gave you really good advice on relationships and how to handle problems and fears you might have

Sirius quickly became someone you could confide into about almost anything you could talk about with your family and for you he became part of the family

you even called him ‘uncle Sirius’ the day you left for Hogwarts again and boy was this man in tears

with that one of the worst years in your life started and all thanks to one person

Dolores Jane Umbridge, not one word was bad enough to describe her because the word was still better than her

if someone was the bane of your existence it was her

you finally wanted to stand up for yourself and you did but then detention came and threw you back down

your siblings, Neville, Harry and Hermine quickly noticed the shift in your demeanor and how you became closed off which you never were before

shy and held back but not closed off

they soon found out what happened and “The Y/N Protection Squad” was founded, be ready to get bothered by them at all times, you never going to be alone

then the DA came around and you of course joined alongside your siblings, friends and boyfriend Neville

it was one of the best things that happened to you in months

finally you could show what you got in you

you and Ginny became a power duo, your brothers were shocked to say the least

and you and Neville finally decide to make your relationship official 

your siblings, shocked that their pure innocent sister has had a boyfriend for over a year, but not surprised it’s Neville

protective annoying older sibling squad activated

but you nor Neville cared, you were happy and as long as you two stayed that way everything would be okay

then you went to the Ministry of Magic with Harry, Ron, Hermine, Ginny, Neville and Luna

everything turned upside down when you got attacked by the death eaters and when they got a hold of you all

you were afraid, but you were more afraid of your siblings and friends than yourself

especially when you saw that Bellatrix LeStrange had her grip on Neville

he told you about his parents and he even wanted you to meet them but now you were afraid that it might never come to it

insert Sirius and the rest of the order of the phoenix, they saved you but a price was paid in the form of him dying

it changed you in so many ways that you had to question yourself and the things you knew

Hogwarts 5th and 6th year + Battle of Hogwarts:

your fifth year went pretty much as normal as your third for most of the time

school was finally quieting down and you had more time to process what happened at the ministry and all the years before

you concentrated more on school and your still building relationship with Neville, being able to walk through Hogwarts while holding hands and hugging and kissing him whenever you wanted

it was nice, you also found more time you could spend with Ginny and Luna which was much needed

but all good things had to end

the death eaters made their way into the castle and wreaked havoc

they destroyed everything they saw, they made Hagrid's hut go up in flames, they killed Dumbledore and after that put the dark mark up in the sky

changes happened quickly after that

thankfully the summer break came and with that the wedding of Bill and Fleur

even after everything that happened towards the end of the school year and when the order brought Harry to the burrow it was relieving to have something as exciting and somewhat normal as a wedding in these dark times

you helped where you could and you were allowed to invite Neville

it went amazing for most of the day but bad things just seem to come your way

Harry, Ron and Hermine left to find the horcruxes Voldemort made and you had to get back to school

it was different than before, everything was and you should have been used to it but you weren’t

this was the most tiring school year of all and it took a toll on every single student

then the day came and the moment you saw your brother and friends again you knew you would be doomed but it didn’t hinder you to sprint towards them and give them the longest and strongest hugs you could muster up

the battle started only a while after that and you gave all that you got to fight them off with the others

it was long and tiring but in the end the dark lord got defeated once and for all but there was nothing to celebrate

many people died and under them your brother Fred, you broke after that

Neville held you in his arms the whole time until you fell asleep

After Hogwarts:

you continued and finished school with good grades and started training to become a potions master

it just fitted with your love for herbology and your interested in the different effects they could have when put together and made into something entirely else

Neville upgraded from boyfriend to husband only a few months after you graduated

you two knew the other was the one for you and nothing would change that so why don’t put a label on it to say that one is mine for forever

Neville became the new herbology teacher after professor Sprout and you became new potions teacher after professor Slughorn

you just couldn’t be separated from each other

the future brought also two beautiful twin boys your way and a lot of chaos but with the family you already had you were used to it

Neville was not

you still manage it just as you do with everything

and with your other siblings getting kids as well family meetings were getting much more crowded to say the least

you stared at your nieces, nephews and sons while they were running around playing games and screaming at each other

“honestly love, I am regretting being pregnant again.”

“you aRE WHAT?!”

oh what a sweet life

Taglist: @satans-bae-and-queen

[thevoilinauttheory]

The Funeral

[ FFxivWrite2021 Prompt 29: Debonair ]

[ Content Warnings: passive suicidal ideation; death and blood mentions ]

[ Just want to note here... that this started as one thing and ended as another and don’t have the energy to change it because it ended up being so long lol I wanted to try something different, but then it went *way* different, so. Uh. Here you go! 😂 official video not posted due to the fact that it was flashing enough to bother me, so it might bother someone else. ]

==

“He’s a strange one, that’s for sure. Have you seen him ever show an onze of emotion?” “He may be the eldest, but do they really think he’d be the best heir?” “He’d run the family into the ground, if given the chance.”

He could hear them through the walls, the jabs at his character. How dare they? Was he not the perfection the rest of the noble community sought? Or was it his perfection that made them think as such? His ears twitched. Someone was coming, and by the weight of the footsteps…

“Cedre, Mother wishes to speak with you.” Sylvain gripped at the hem of his shirt - nervous. All of his siblings were intimidated by him. All of the people he would call his friends did the same. Cedrenaux stood from the bench he sat on, waiting for his parents to call him in. This gathering was supposed to be one of levity, other houses joining them for a single night of enjoyment. It was always too bright in here. The bright blues, the bright reds, the bright violets and whites and lights. Dear gods, the lights. He spoke no words to his brother, passing by him in some furied silence. Or, what Sylvain would think as he passed by.

“Cedrenaux, dear! Look at you, dressed to the nines~.” His aunt was the first to applaud him - for what, exactly? He never knew. All of them praised him for some unholy reason. “Well, it is only proper for him to be dressed so.” His mother was a walking contradiction. Doting, and yet, not so easily impressed. She brushed some of his stray hairs down, the wavy near-curls springing up to their own liking. Despite the fact that he was old enough to do so himself, old enough to speak for himself, he did not. “I want you to meet this lovely girl,” She turned him towards a beautiful woman, slightly older than him; fair skin, chestnut hair, what wondrous green eyes. “This is Cassandra Babineaux, under House Dzemael. Cassandra, this is my eldest son--” “Cedrenaux. A pleasure.” His voice was dry, it said anything but. He offered her a formal bow. “You two are to spend much time together, in fact, why don’t you get to know each other a bit more now?”

==

“Cassandra is to be your bride, Cedrenaux, you must compose yourself well.” “Yes, Mother.” He stood still as his mother fussed over his appearance, brushing lint from his shoulders, straightening his jacket. While it was infuriating to be coddled like a child, he let her do her thing, letting out a short sigh when she stepped away. “While this marriage is arranged, you two have gotten along so well - we thought it best that you would propose to her in a traditional fashion as well. I am certain it would mean a lot to her.” “Yes, Mother.”

He couldn’t stand her. There was always something off about the woman. To be married to her was going to be a long road, one that would likely never end - not until he was at the end of his days. The temptation was there - death would be far preferable, but he knew that his family needed this. After the accurate accusation of his grandmother as a heretic by the Dzemaels - his mother’s mother, worse off - they needed to make amends to the House. To prove that just one was enough. Once his mother left him, he took himself to the closest mirror. His hair was tied up in a bundle of wavy curls, not quite untamed, though no less annoying. He pulled the band from it, letting it fall loose; using his fingers to comb it out. Princely, straight from a faerie tale - that’s what Cassandra had called it. Disgusting.

“Cedrenaux?” A soft voice peered through the door, nervous and shaking. “Isabelle, is something amiss?” “N-No, not… not really. You look upset.” “...I am.” “Is it the marriage?” “...” He nodded slowly as he strode to the door, opening it fully for his youngest sister. She was easy to talk to, she had no room to judge anyone else, nor did she have a habit of doing so. “It’ll… be okay, I think.” Cedrenaux shook his head. “No, it will not. I do not like her in the slightest.” “But you got along so well…” “Because I was forced to… I do not want to marry, and especially not her.” “Why is that?” “Aside from a bad feeling…? I… I cannot say.” He muttered to himself, eyes to the floor, a crack in his usual expression. “...I simply do not like any aspect of her.” “Have you found another lady that caught your fancy?” “....” How was he supposed to answer that? He opted for another shake of his head. “No. I have had no interest in any of them. I have been putting my focus into my studies.” “I see.” She needed no other words to explain, she only smiled. “It’ll be okay. I can feel it. In the end, it’ll be okay.”

==

“I… am at a loss for words.” “Cedre, dear, please, I didn’t mean--” “Did not mean…? For what? To take on another man, force him into marriage? We have two children, Cassandra - that something like this happened is beyond me.” “You’re not… leaving, are you?” “Your kind are not wont to change.” “B-But.. the kids-” “Are in your capable hands. Perhaps you will no longer find your eyes wandering when you are pressured to do the job I have been doing whilst you were galavanting about with another man. The poor sod better be thankful he got away when he could.” “...Not without stealing the better half of our funds…” “Of your funds. Good riddance too.” “Cedre y-you sound so…” “Pleased? Gods be, I am. I had been looking for years for a way to get you far from me.”

Those words were heartbreaking to anyone who would hear them - and a relief to the one who said them. Cedrenaux finally felt a weight off of his shoulders. Such a relief to breathe out. “Since we are on that topic, I had never liked you to begin with - we were only together thanks to our parents.” “L-Love, I--” “Do not address me as such, lumping me in with the Brume rabble you called your lover. Of course, I side with him - the abuse you have fed both of us.” “You would punish our children over this?!” The shock wore off, it turned to anger. “Hm? I am sorry, did you say “our”? No, no. They are your children now. You can disclude me from the picture. Of course, I did already speak to them. They are old enough to understand how rotten you are, and thankfully, old enough to know how to ruin the rest of your days. Of course, in the end, you will have wonderful heirs to your house and name. Seeing as I taught them as such.”

“What would your mother say once you came home? She’d be disappointed, angry. She’d make you come back.” “Oh, do not worry. Your backstabbing name will be littered upon the ears of others, I am certain my mother will be just fine with it.”

==

“Please, wait! Wait, I have evidence!” Cedrenaux tried to push his way past the Templars which guarded the Vault. Guarded the trial - the trial against his parents. He held above him the papers, the ones that showed their innocence. “They are not guilty, you must hear me!”

“Lord Voilinaut.” One of the clergy approached him - a tone that made his heart sink. She took the papers from him, a slight twitch of shock. “I apologize, my lord, but you are too late. Their sentence was held a quarter of a bell ago. These papers, however -...” She shook her head. “This would not be enough, though I will see to it that these are filed properly so that no future mistakes will happen.”

“Y-You… admit… it was… a mistake?” He could feel it, it boiled under him, made his skin itch. He bared his teeth in a scowl, words sharp with his shouts. “You would murder for your own sakes?! They were not guilty! If I could find the evidence, why could you not have?!” The Templars struggled to keep the young lord from attacking the clergywoman, having to catch him by his collar and arms. “I apologize, my lord. I do not oversee the investigations, but I shall apprise them of the situation so that no others will have to face an injustice like this.” Cedrenaux managed to settle himself, composing with a sigh. “...Very well… so long as it does not happen again. You will regret the next time it does.”

He could hear the papers burning in the room she had left to.

==

“I apologize for the inconvenience, sir. If I could ask a favor of you…” An Elezen, far taller than he - though who would not be? Even the hyurs in the city were taller than him. Dressed in nobles’ clothes, light hair, fair eyes. “And you are?” “Tristan.” “...Tristan.” “My… full name is rather long, and this moniker suits me well.” “I see, and what can I do for you?” “...It…” Tristen looked about for any passerbys. “Perhaps we could sit over here, it… concerns a rather personal matter.” He gestured to the gazebo of the Voilinaut’s estate. Cedrenaux nodded, leading in taking a seat.

“I… have heard many things. I would clarify if they are true or not, and if they are… perhaps you could listen to my plight. I have heard that upon your divorce with Cassandra, your parents were tried for heresy.” “...That is true. You know of Cassandra?” “I know that she is behind it - ah… I know… from personal experience, as she has done the same with my family. They are currently in a gaol awaiting their sentence.” “How do you know?” “...She screamed at me as such when I pushed myself from her.” “You were…?” “Also married, yes. At the time you were.” “You certainly do not look the part of the man I had found her with. Do you mean to say she was doing as such with three individuals?” “I am, yes.”

Cedrenaux folded his arms over his chest, inhaling sharply. He closed his eyes to think, ears twitching to the sounds of other gossip from down the road. “...And what favor would you ask of me.” “That I may remain in your estate as a guest, until I am given my home back after the investigation. I am without one, currently.” “....” He wasn’t keen on sharing his home with strangers, especially since they were in the process of moving furniture out; sorting through paperwork and memories. How could he not lend aid to another who has shared this pain - who will share this pain. He knew that Tristan would not see his family again. Cedrenaux nodded slowly, bringing a bright smile to Tristan’s face. “I thank you, sir,” “Cedrenaux.” “I thank you, Cedrenaux. For your kindness.” He shook his head. “...Do not worry of it. My family will see to it that you will have a place to stay. Do excuse the mess.”

==

With a heavy thud, Tristan had his back trapped against the wall. Such brashness was rewarded with the second heavy emotion he had shown - first anger, now… Cedrenaux sputtered under his words, some semblance of fear on his face as his fingers clutched into the hem of his own shirt. Tristan let out a bright laugh, that perfectly playful smile. He was so forward, how could anyone act without shame - or at least thought to their actions. Or, perhaps he did think it over and--

“You’re so adorable like this!” Tristan pushed off the wall to let Cedrenaux have some breathing room. “L-Like what? What do you mean?” Despite the blatant display of emotion, and the catch of his teeth on his lips, his voice still stayed dry and even. “C’mon, I know you’re not that much of an idiot.” Silence. There was no response - he definitely was not that much of an idiot, still--

“Why?” “Why not?” He was nudged with an elbow. “The moons I’ve stayed here, you have shown nothing but care and kindness to your family - and myself. Of course, not everyone would call it that, but… you really are adorable.” Tristan leaned forward to pinch his cheek. His smile faded as he lowered his voice. “You have a lot of qualities about you that no one else does, something the rest of Ishgard needs. You exude safety, protection, you’re diligent - strong.” His smile came back with something softer. “They don’t see it, but I do.”

“...” Cedrenaux looked down to the floor - he was tense from the surprise, but it was relief that came from his breath. “Thank you.” It took a bit, a little moment, but he smiled. Nothing as bright as the man’s in front of him, but it existed. He took a careful step forward, hesitant, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing… but he wrapped his arms around him, tucking his head into Tristan’s chest. “....” He smelled of Starlight - he wouldn’t forget that. Pine and cinnamon, a fresh fire, winter air. It was… it was comforting. It reminded him of the times he could truly be a child with no worry of others’ thoughts. “...Thank you…” His voice was soft now, afraid to speak aloud. Gods, if his siblings saw him.

Even Tristan was surprised by the forward action on Cedrenaux’s part, but he wrapped his arms around him, holding him close as he placed his head atop his. “Just one night?” “...Just one.”

==

One night turned to moons - moons of a fleeting emotion.

“Is Lord Tristanaireux in? We received word that he would be staying with your house.”

Several Templars were at their door. Cedrenaux knew exactly what that meant. “The investigation is over then? Should he return home?” “...He is, yes.” Their hesitation said otherwise. He saw that too. “Is that right, then? I will escort him then, to make sure he arrives safely.” “There is no need for that, we will-” “I do not trust you. After the last time, I refuse to.” “My lord, we have found relics of heresy amongst his belongings. He needs to be turned in--” “You would lie to me, on my estate?” Cedrenaux’s voice got low, deep, something dark.

“A-Apologies, m-my lord…” “Leave. Come back when you have hard evidence that it is his, and that it was not planted by you nor anyone else.” “Sir, you will be tried, too, if--” “Learn your battles, boy.” The Templars at his door were armed, and yet they made no moves against him. As if they truly were afraid of just him alone.

“Lord Cedrenaux, is aught amiss?” Another lord from the Dzemael house, when would they leave him alone? “No, in fact, these kind gentlemen were here to let me know that my friend is allowed to return home. ...Yes?” His glare pierced them. He made these fools stand straight, near threatened into admitting so. “Is that so? I had heard just the opposite. Are you housing a heretic, Lord Cedrenaux?” “On baseless accusation. Show me the evidence, and I will turn him over.” “The Vault is already in the possession of the evidence, s-sir…” The Templars spoke up again. “Then tell them to show me.”

His continuance on their argument was cut short, with Tristan looming over his shoulder. “What’s going on now?” “Back inside, now.” The sound of his voice turned to urgency, he was thankful Tristan understood - the man took a hefty step back, just before the sharp cry. “Grab the heretic, now!” Without so much as a second thought, the Templars trampled over Cedrenaux to seize Tristan from the hallway - dragging him out to the streets as he kicked. “Let go! I know naught of what you speak!”

As Cedrenaux found the strength to pick himself up off the floor, his eyes turned to the door - to the road - to the people across from his home - to the smile of the woman standing there. Her.. this was her fault. “Tristan!” His boots skid along the stone as he broke into a sprint. “Cedre!” The sound of his name was cut with a cry and grunt, a chained elbow smashed into his face - thrown into the ring in which the trial was being held. “Stop! I beg of you, please think before you act!”

It felt like the trial held for his parents, another mistake - another intentional mistake.

“The evidence was planted, my lords!” “By who.” They spoke to him, they addressed him. Gods be, he had a chance. “Cassandra Babineaux. She admitted to accusing not only his family, but mine as well, of baseless heresy. I had word that investigations would be thorough.” “What motives would she have to do this?” “We are both her ex-husbands, having committed adultery against us both - she seeks revenge for our leaving.” “Have the guard fetch this woman then.”

He could hear it, the sigh of relief from his love.

==

“I do not know what you speak, my lord! Why would I take the risk of being accused, myself? If I had planted it, I would have had the evidence on me at some point!” “Anything for revenge… first my grandmother, then my parents, now this…”

She lied through her teeth, she lied, and they both knew.

“Lord Cedrenaux, why would you accuse this woman of--” “Why would you believe her words over mine? Do you think me a liar, my lord? I have stood by and watched countless of my family die at your hands on false accusations - the truths brought to light, and still, you would do this?” “Why would you accuse me? I have found my love, I do not need yours nor his!” “Be- Because… I saw that look on your face, when I was on my way here, that smile of yours.” “Can I not greet you on the street?” “...” His jaw clenched. “Not when you just witnessed this man being dragged off.”

“Lord Voilinaut.” “Check her home, then, if you dare will! There’s plenty more evidence to plant, isn’t there?! One at a time, you will pick off those I love… who next, then? Sylvain? Valera? Isabelle?” He saw the corner of her mouth twitch at the mention of his youngest sister, that little detail. “Snake, impudent hag - you would harm such an innocent girl for your petty spite against me?!” Everything in his body could not stop him from lashing out, jumping on her in an instant - he only landed a single blow to her face before the Templars snatched him away from her.

“Calm yourself this instant!” The loud thud of a hand against the table snapped him from his rage. “You would conduct yourself in this manner, Lord Cedrenaux? Your accusation of your ex-wife is paranoia, that she is out to get you - she has clearly moved on. We will consider your evidence null.” “N-No, please! Do not harm him! He is innocent!” It was the first time he had ever cried, even as a baby; he screamed, but never shed a tear - he choked on his sobs. “Please…” He would resort to begging if it made it so, he sunk to his knees - he did not expect to hear the scream so close to his ears, so loud, it took up the room. He heard nothing else. The thump of the body on the floor, the spill of blood. The tile was stained with it.

Even as the room cleared, he did not move - he could not move. He cried, coughed, sobbed, screamed and yelled and begged what gods there were to make it stop.

In the end, all he could do was make certain that his family was safe.

[lexiepiper]

Reflection

Hey @danthectoman, I was your backup Truce gifter! I hope you enjoy this bitter(sweet) Dan thermos fic!

I know my blog’s formatting sucks, I haven’t been able to change it yet, but you can read it on Ao3 or ff if you’d prefer.

.

There wasn’t much else to do but seethe.

His body, compressed down to mist, strained against the smooth metal walls. He pressed, and prodded, and tried again and again to pop the seal, but it held eternally firm, and he was left with nothing but thoughts in the darkness.

So he softly settled, like low-lying fog across fields, and sulked.

His anger pulsed at first, and every time he thought about things, his core would flare and he would pound himself against the lid once more. Still, it never budged, and he always ended up sinking back into simmering stillness before his thoughts caught up with him and his fury inevitably swelled again.

It was a dark, stagnant cycle, and he didn’t know how long it had been going on until a tiny thought wormed its way through the haze of agitation. Jazz would be disappointed.

It caught him off-guard, and he paused in yet another attempt to break the seal.

She would be, wouldn’t she?

The thought held a bite of anger, and he coiled in readiness to throw himself against the lid again, but before he could lose himself in his rage he managed to picture her. Time had worn her smooth, and she was little more than long red hair pulled away from her face with a teal headband, and fragments of smiles and hugs that always carried more love than he ever felt from anyone else. He pooled again at the bottom of the thermos, trying to fit the glimpses of memory back together. He couldn’t picture her fully, but the more he tried, the more she slid into place in his mind.

His parents followed quickly, and sorrow pricked his core when he realised that he couldn’t remember what his mother’s smile looked like, or the scent of the aftershave that his dad had worn. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to think about them, and now this tiny effort was far too late.

The deep, hollow ache in his core flared up, like an old wound that never really went away, and he curled in on himself. He wanted to stop thinking about them, to make the yawning emptiness fade into the background once again, but he just couldn’t stop himself… His family sprang back to the forefront, whose faces were blurred by time, and who had never known the truth about him. He wondered if things would have been different, had they known. He tried to picture it — ghost hunting with his parents, or making ectocookies, or trying to dodge Jazz when she ruffled his hair after he had easily caught The Box Ghost yet again.

The imagined scenes brought a fresh wave of pain. He’d never told them, and now they’d never know, because they were dead. They were dead, and it was his fault.

He had no physical body to cry with in the thermos, but he burned with the thick heat of grief, and Dan wrapped his misty form tighter around his core. He stayed there, pressed against the cold circular floor of his prison, while his core trembled and his mind dwelt on the little things that made up the people he’d lost. If he thought about it, he could almost smell Sam’s shampoo, or picture the shape and colour of Tucker’s glasses. He didn’t remember if Jazz’s shirt had been black or white that day, or if his parents had been holding hands when they walked into the meeting. He spared a small thought for Mr Lancer too, but then returned to trying to recall what his mother’s perfume smelled like.

He dug deeper into his memory, and every resurfacing detail felt like pulling out a splinter. It was painful in the moment, but once he stopped fighting the memory, and allowed the thoughts to linger, the pain was not so much that of continual hurt, but more akin to the ache of healing.

Sam’s shampoo had been a vegan one that smelled like roses, and Tucker’s glasses were large half-moons with black frames. Jazz’s shirt was also black, his mother smelled like orange blossoms, and right there at the end, they had been holding hands.

He missed them.

He missed them, and there, coiled as compressed ectoplasmic mist, he realised that he still loved them.

He had no mouth or throat, but Dan’s amorphous body clenched and spasmed in the closest thing to a cry, and he tried to remember as much as he could.

He reached for old memories, of the sound of screeching locker doors, and that his mother would always fold his socks so that the edges lined up perfectly, and how sand felt when it crunched and squeezed between his toes, and Dan realised that his family and friends weren’t the only people he missed.

He missed rain on his skin, and the taste of lime, and the way it felt to sleep in jeans after a long day, and a million other little things that made up the sum of life.

He missed Danny.

He missed himself.

He’d never thought that before, so swept up in the rage of abandonment, and then… then the rage of bloodlust. His core shivered, and he tried not to think about it. He tried to dredge up those nicer, softer memories, of picnics and sunsets and life, but every attempt was swept away by the sheer force of blood-drenched gloves and dying, screaming souls.

He’d started with himself, and then had never stopped… but now that he’d been stopped, and left in a soup can to rot? Now, he had time to think, and the more he thought, the more he remembered.

People had been so easy to kill. At the time, it gave him a rush of excitement, of winning the hunt… but now, if he’d had a stomach, it would have been rolling with bile. Unlike the hazy memories of happier times, he could picture every person he’d killed in crystal clear detail.

They rushed him, breaking through the mental walls that he tried to throw up, until all he could do was cower at the bottom of the thermos and face how each of them had looked in their final moments. Each terrified expression drove shards of revulsion deeper into his core, and these visions continued in an unrelenting wave until he had revisited every single victim, and felt the horror and guilt that had been so absent when their lives had ebbed away beneath his cruel fingers. He didn’t know how long it took, but when it was over, all he could do was lie there and steep in the blood that stained his soul.

He wished he had never done it.

He would do anything to have never done it.

As soon as the thought presented itself, Dan felt a vibration stutter through his prison. The thermos shuddered, and then the compression was gone, and Dan burst out of the darkness into a light that burned his eyes with its sudden intensity after so long in the darkness. He curled in mid-air, pressing the heels of newly-formed palms against freshly-made eyes and hissing in discomfort.

When he finally came to himself, the first thing he noticed was a soft, repetitive ticking. It was strangely familiar but misplaced, like the wrong lyrics being sung to a familiar tune. Dan shuddered, dropping his hands and squinting in the light. His core fluttered with the strain of his unrelenting emotional storm, and if he were a weaker being he might have worried about it collapsing due to stress.

He glanced around, frowning at the sight of a ghost screwing the cap back onto the thermos.

“Who are you?”

The ghost regarded him with red eyes, one of which was struck through by an impressive scar. “You know who I am.”

Its voice rasped like sand shifting, and brought to mind the endless dunes of a desert, eternally changing with the ravages of time.

He did know. “Why now?” Dan snapped, but the snippiness was somewhat lost from his tone as his core heaved with fresh guilt. “When I first learned of your existence, and searched the Ghost Zone, I could never find you.”

The ghost didn’t respond, and Dan shook his head as anger finally began to trickle back into his core. It pushed the guilt aside in its demand to be felt. “You… you hid from me!” he shouted, flinging out an arm for emphasis. “You knew what I would do, but when I came to find you, to… to fix this,” he gestured to himself, “you left me on my own! What did that other Danny have that I wasn’t good enough for, Old Man?!”

The ghost of time rippled, and his form changed into a younger man. “Come,” he said, and floated through an open archway set in the wall.

Dan paused. The room he’d been released into was nothing more than a small alcove, with a pedestal that must have housed the thermos up until now. Frustration bloomed in him, but it was quickly overcome with a spark of disbelief.

He was free?

After so long, it felt impossible. He immediately yearned for open spaces, whether the expanse of the Zone or the wide blue sky of Earth, it didn’t matter. He just had to get out of here.

He could run, but if that strange cloaked ghost with the ticking clock in its chest really was who Dan suspected, then he doubted that he’d get very far. Besides, it’s not like he had anywhere that he could run to, anyway.

Loneliness ripped through him, and Dan clenched his teeth and flew through the archway before the crushing grief could come pouring back. “Hey!” he shouted, speeding to catch up with the figure that was floating leisurely down a long, narrow corridor lined with large clock faces that all displayed different times.

The other ghost reached a door recessed between two massive clock faces just as Dan caught up. “Come, Daniel.”

The simple address struck him like a blow, and Dan recoiled, his hand flying to his chest to clutch at the HAZMAT. “That’s not my name,” he choked. “I’m not… him.”

The time ghost paused with a hand on the ornate doorknob. “Maybe not the way you used to be,” he demurred, “but in many ways, Daniel, you’re still you.”

Dan’s core clenched, and the shadows behind the clocks deepened as his hair flared in an inferno of white flames. “Don’t you get it, Clockwork?” he shrieked, the slight tether of self-control crumbling away. “I killed people! Millions and millions of innocent people! I murdered children, and can still see their faces, and feel their blood dripping off my hands! I am not your precious Daniel!”

Clockwork’s hand dropped back to his side, and he turned so that they were facing each other. His gaze was soft and achingly sad, and the ticking of the clock inlaid in his chest sparked a pang of longing that Dan didn’t even know he could still feel.

He shoved it away. “Why didn’t you save me?” he choked, and his core felt like it would smother him. “You saved him, with your time travel and your second chances. What was so special about him, anyway? Why did he get them back, while I became his lesson?”

Clockwork folded his arms across his chest. The watches lining his wrists flashed in the brilliant light of Dan’s hair. “Saving comes in many ways, Daniel. If I wasn’t going to help you then you’d still be in that thermos.”

“I don’t need your help,” he snapped.

Sad red eyes bored into his. “Don’t you wish that you could take it all back?”

The question pierced him to his soul, and Dan faltered, sinking so that his feet hit the tiles. His knees buckled and he sagged, leaning against the wall and grasping his chest as a half-forgotten sound squeezed where his ribs should have been and wormed its way up his throat and out through gritted teeth. It took a moment to recognise the sob for what it was, and by then, another one had broken out as well.

He tamped down on the emotion, blinking burning eyes and leaning heavily against the wall. “Yes,” he choked. “I… I want nothing more.”

The ancient ghost sighed, and it sounded like the faraway chime of a forgotten clock. “Come,” he said again, reaching for the handle once more and swinging the door open. “You are my ward, Daniel, no matter what form you take. I would fight all powers in the realms to give you peace.”

Dan blinked as an undeniable warmth wrapped itself around his core. “Oh,” he breathed, and for a moment, the pain melted away and he felt like Danny Fenton for the first time in what could have easily been a thousand years. It was nice, but overwhelming in its abruptness, and he sank to his knees. “But… but I’m still half Plasmius,” he managed to say past the swelling comfort that cocooned him like a blanket.

Clockwork shrank until he was in the form of a child, his eyes once again level with Dan’s kneeling form. “Without that half, you’re not stable,” he said, and laid a tiny hand on Dan’s shoulder. “You were stronger, and absorbed him. You have his powers, and his temper, but beneath that, you’re still Daniel Fenton.”

The comforting warmth continued to thicken around him, and Dan screwed his eyes shut and leaned his forehead against Clockwork’s shoulder. “Are you adopting me?” he choked as he recognised the bonds forming between their cores.

He felt the other ghost nod. “Technically, you’ve been my ward for over a thousand years now. I just had to leave you in that thermos until you came to your senses.”

“What, you left me in time out for a thousand years?” Dan retorted, but the words lacked any bite.

Small fingers brushed through his flaming hair, and he forced down a shudder at how unexpectedly nice it felt.

“You needed to experience regret,” Clockwork explained, and gently pulled back from the hug. “You had to want to change the past so badly that you’d do anything. You weren’t going to change until you were ready to.”

Dan leaned against the wall again. He still felt wonderfully warm and cared for in a way that he never had, not even during his distant, fleeting time alive. “I do,” he said, and tried not to think about how cheesy this all was, “and I will.”

Clockwork smiled then, and the scar that slashed through his eye crinkled with the expression. He reached out a hand and Dan grasped it. “Come,” he said, shifting into the form of a young adult and pulling Dan off the floor with the change. “You have some time travelling to do.”

[octalove]

VIII: Struck by Lightning

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader makes a confession, and goes on a date. Previous.

TW: Brief mention of gore (just blood)

In the weeks succeeding the Little Italy mission, I found a rhythm in the two conflicting heartbeats of my life. Occasionally, I met with Jason to file down the multitude of criminals who opposed him (it wasn’t all rescuing orphans and kittens, but his justice was fair and swift), and other than that, I carried on with life as normal; both as myself, and Batgirl. It was an inconsistent, exciting balancing act.

I tried to humor Bruce’s transparent attempts to placate me with cold cases, deeming it study. My school work had unsurprisingly lost its appeal, and I found myself rocking in the river banks of what was sure to be a failing grade in most of my classes- though I had yet to run ashore. Yet.

I danced along, despite my reprisal (a lack of sleep, and white lies on either side), and overall there was a certain stalemate. With that, peace. Or at least, the closest I could get.

On a Saturday I happened to have free (to my great relief), I woke up at one in the afternoon, to a blessedly dim day that kept the light in my room dark enough to cradle my lie-in.

I washed the sleep from my face, and stumbled downstairs, muscles sore from a Thursday night mission with Jason at the Port (of which I told my family I was going to a party). Tim was the only one in the kitchen- looking like he, too, had just crawled out of bed. He was eating cereal in silence.

We hadn’t been avoiding each other, per say- just got wrapped up in our own routines. Routines that kept me out of the house, and him trapped within it.

“Morning.” I said.

“Mm.” He replied.

I poured out my own bowl of cereal and settled on top of the glossy white granite. It was kind of a running joke at the Wayne household that you could sit anywhere but the chairs. Even Damian picked up on it- and, naturally, he was the best at it- perching his lithe little form atop the fridge at one point.

Now, Tim and I sat side by side on the countertop, shoulders brushing and spoons clanging against our glass bowls. Nothing more was said, but it was a comfortable silence.

I thought, for a second, about the world he’d been living in for the past few months as November bled into December. About his work and his many, many jobs he had to do. The way he shouldered them all week-to-week. He didn’t have to, but he did.

Tim made me a better person. I thought so, anyway.

But then, before I met him, I was the kind of person who let Carolyn Crawford slap me across the face to cover for someone else’s secret. Now, I was the kind who let other people take the blame for mine. Maybe Tim didn’t make me a better person. Only I could do that.

*

“I need to talk to you.” I said it firmly, and with authority. Mostly to convince myself that I was certain in my intention to go through with it. Bruce eyed me, looking up from his book.

“Alright.”

“...”

“...”

“In private.”

Alfred and Damian’s voices carried through to the living room as they had tea (an evening tradition). Bruce nodded, closed his book, and led me upstairs.

His office was a quiet, peaceful place. Finished dark wood, glass tables, and black leather accents. It was the room in the house that was most furnished to his own private taste, and thus, a glimpse inside was into him. It was mostly predictable; W.E. briefcases, notebooks and pens, case files open, and a map of the city that was displayed behind his desk. But there were other things too; a rubik’s cube half solved on the settee, a magazine featuring Vicki Vale with a pen in her hand and a defiant, head-strong look on her face. A gorgeous trailing point knife that belonged to Damian (probably confiscated).

I sat down in the chair that faced his own; his giant, glossy desk between us. I wanted to be swallowed into the dark leather. I felt like I was back at the shrink.

“Tim didn’t sneak off on the 21st.” I said quickly, cutting off the silence as quickly as I could. “He’s not the one who saw Red Hood kill that guy. It was me. I made Tim promise not to tell. He lied to cover for me.”

Bruce was quiet. He did that a lot; made you wait for him to speak. Seconds, minutes, hours. It all felt the same when he let you simmer in your own mistakes. I didn’t look up.

“I see.”

Silence. A long, testing silence. His irritating little desk clock ticked away.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Very well. You’re dismissed.”

“Really?” I asked. “That’s it? You’re not mad?”

He paused. “Should I be?”

I blinked, gaze falling on the floor. “I put Tim in a really shitty position. He didn’t have to lie, but he did because I asked him to. I’m mad at me.” I admitted quietly.

Bruce nodded pedantically, resting his head on his hand. “Then that’s good enough for me.”

I furrowed my brow. It wasn’t good enough for me. “It was wrong.” I clarified, trying to press for some manner of reprimand that I didn’t truly want, but felt deserving of anyway. Bruce considered this, in his quiet, inscrutable way. After a moment, he spoke.

“Your mothers trusted me.” He said. I knew that. My parents were business-oriented like that. They were pulled together by happenstance, each without family and carving their own way in the world by studying international law, and applying it to companies who could afford private foreign trade, such as Wayne Enterprises. I attended the parties, the galas, standing around in my designer gowns while my moms handed out their business cards and talked about imports. They weren’t neglectful, just distracted.

“I don’t know if you remember-“

“I do.”

And if I had a dollar for every time the cops or the shrink asked me if I remembered that night, I’d buy my own manor.

Bruce Wayne was at my birth. He and my mothers had been business partners for a while by that time. He watched me, dutifully, when my parents went on date nights, and played catch with me when I accompanied him and Dick to the park. He cooked me breakfast the morning after my mothers died.

I knew it wasn’t a random killing, but he didn’t talk about why they were murdered in their own bed until I was fifteen. By then, I was knowledgeable enough to go searching through the police reports on my own. So instead, one night he’d sat me down at the kitchen table, looking at me earnestly.

“You have to understand, Y/N. Your mothers were...” He’d taken a deep breath. Tried again. “They were involved in things. Things I didn’t know about. It made them a lot of enemies.” Then, something harder passed his features. A frustration.

“They were completely blind to the fact that it meant you would never have a normal life. Not as long as they kept it up- that... double life.” I let the statement hang in the air for a time. “That was stolen from you, from the moment they got involved with the Baciu. And I’m sorry.”

It was easy to be sorry. I was sorry, too. My mothers got themselves tangled in Gotham’s heroin trade, and they weren’t careful enough, so they died for it. It was fairly cut and dry. Open file, close case. But the part that was so bitter to swallow was that it happened to me. A fourteen-year-old child creeping into my mothers’ bed because I’d heard a noise, and the re-runs of Ghost Hunter I’d religiously consumed were conjuring movement in the shadows. But there were no ghosts. Just sheets stained with blood that looked black in the darkness. Just the wet, clogged sort of sound when I peeled back the covers, unable to register they way my mothers were bent, and stilled in a way that only death can induce, where just earlier that night they’d been walking and talking. Bringing me Chinese take-out for dinner.

Their death, and everything that followed was emptying. Cracking open a great chasm and bringing death home, into the halls, and into my room. No longer a rumor. It was an empty chair, and a storied space made cold and worthless. It would’ve been easier if they had simply died as a random killing. Tragic, standard, random Gotham City killing. If I had just been that unlucky. If they’d only been struck by lightning. Instead, I grieved twice; once for who they were, and another time, for who I thought they were.

When Bruce adopted me, I became Batgirl. I made it my own vendetta to stop criminals without killing them, because I knew that some- most of them had children at home who would be the real victims if I did.

But then, I thought deeper. More considerately, about who my mothers were. Moreover, who they weren’t. Pearl and gold, white teeth and hairspray. Singing to me, and playing Monopoly, at which they were both so competitive that they had to kiss and make up after every game. Bringing me a strawberry cupcake in bed every year on my birthday. Kissing me on the head. Telling me to be good. Leaving me in that big house. Going off to Port Adams, or Crime Alley. Signing orders. Putting bodies in Finger River.

Nobody’s innocent here, dollface.

“They trusted me.” Bruce’s voice interrupted my reminiscing with the ghosts of my past. “I know their death was hard, and you may still be recovering. I’m trying to do the best I can for you.” He finished. For all the gnashing teeth and avaricious expanses of Gotham City secrets, he looked tired.

“I know, Bruce.” I said quietly. “Me too.”

*

The following Tuesday, I got home from school and started on a mountain of homework I needed to do- some make up work as well. Christmas break was around the corner, and I was slowly losing motivation as the semester drew to a close. I had too many distractions; and tonight was no exception.

Ding.

My phone buzzed, and I looked down, eyebrows raising to find that it was a text from Jason- one that wasn’t just a pin dropped to a location.

Meet me at Twin Sharks. I’ll buy you a coffee.

- What’s the occasion?

No reply. I sighed. I should’ve called him and made him tell me, but I knew that I would go no matter what, so I decided to play the apathy card. Despite my cool response, my heart (the traitor) was fluttering like a bird. Was this about the kiss? Our partnership? Was it an actual, regular date? Or was he breaking it off? My mind raced, and as I pulled together a tasteful outfit and sprayed myself with perfume, I promised myself that it wasn’t for him.

The Twin Sharks was a diner in Upper West Side, near China town. It was nicer than the likes of Sherman’s, or anything else East End had to offer. The late afternoon was unexpectedly bright, clouds parted for a sweet reprieve of gold and blush in the sky. The sun was a striking blood-orange, hung low over the city. It struck a match in my chest- some childish, poetic hopefulness.

The diner’s door jingled, and I scanned the booths and tables. It was a little crowded, but I spotted Jason alone in a booth, his eyes cast down, involved with his phone. I made my way over to him, slipping off my coat and plopping down his opposite.

“Hey.” I said. His eyes fell upon me, and I saw something on his face- maybe surprise, or something to that effect- before he composed his expression into something unreadable.

“Hey.”

The diner had a big, hot pink neon sign that depicted a matching pair of sharks above the counter. Its buzzing glow mixed with the orange gleam of the lowering sun through the windows- it was all very rose-colored.

The waitress put a coffee in front of me, and I got to work on adorning it with the little cream and sugar packets on the table. He watched me do it for while.

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Nothin’.” He said. Then, he reached across the table, and took my hand, pulling it back to him, and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. I was so startled by it that I dropped the sugar packet I was holding. Neither of us seemed to notice. He turned my hand over and placed another kiss in the inside of my wrist before returning it safely to my side of the table. I was certain my face burned like the neon sharks.

“I’m- um- is this a date?” I asked, trying to get him to say something- anything- to get my mind off the way he’d just reduced me to a puddle.

He looked amused by that. “You want it to be?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, stirring my coffee. “You invited me.”

He nodded, eyes falling away. “Yeah. I’ve got an update for you. D’amici business.”

“Oh.” By the look on his face, it wasn’t good news.

“You’re not gonna like it.”

“Perfect. My day’s been a little too good so far.” I said. He slid me his phone- on the screen was an article from the Gotham Quarterly.

Young Bride Found Murdered in Diamond District Estate

I read over it a couple times, brow furrowing. “You mean...“

“Penelope. It happened last night.”

“Shit.” I muttered, scrolling down and scanning through the article. My throat caught as I read over it. She was shot in her bed. “It says there’s no suspects.”

“Course it does. It’s the mafia. They handle things nice and quiet.”

“And I’m guessing you have a few a suspects.” He nodded grimly as I slid his phone back to him.

“One better. I know exactly who did it. I think you do, too.”

I put my head in my hands, mulling over my options. Really there was only one. Penelope’s beautiful, flustered face and apologetic eyes flashed through my mind. Her wind-chime laugh as we ate scones under the watchful eye of her adoring, peculiar grandmother.

“Okay.” I resolved. “Let’s get that girl justice.”

[justalitlecreacher]

Ok as much as I hate the events of the Rako Hardeen arc in Clone Wars and deeply wish that the council/Obi-Wan had at the very least told Anakin and Ahsoka what they were planning, I feel like the arc represents a very important turning point in Anakin’s fall and actually shows an important bit of character growth from Attack of the Clones.

Tl;Dr: The Rako Hardeen arc is my favorite and least favorite arc in all of Clone Wars because while it puts Anakin through unnecessary pain it also gives a lot of insight into why he may have fallen in Revenge of the Sith and shows some important character growth

Ok; the most important part of this post/analysis (I think) is to remember how close Anakin and Obi-Wan are. Anakin was placed in Obi-Wan’s care at the age of 9 and from then on Obi-Wan practically raised him. In Attack of the Clones we see Anakin refer to Obi-Wan as the closest thing he has to a father not once, but twice, and one of those two times was directly to Obi-Wan.”OBI-WAN:  Why do I think you are going to be the death of me?! ANAKIN:  Don't say that Master... You're the closest thing I have to a father... I love you. I don't want to cause you pain.”(Attack of the Clones) and later to Padmé “...He's [Obi-Wan] like my father,...”. This is especially important because when Anakin leaves his mother to become a Jedi in The Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan is literally the only friendly/familiar face in the Temple. Plus in the comics (disclaimer: I have not read all the comics just bits and pieces) we get a glimpse of Anakin training with the other padawans and it’s made clear that at least some of them don’t like Anakin at all. One padawan even refers to him as “just a slave” when shit talking him during training.(which like super fucked up; they def should’ve gotten in trouble cause that don’t seem very Jedi of them ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Anyway; we’ve established Anakin and Obi-Wan’s bond. So let’s turn our attention towards someone who deserved so much better; Shmi Skywalker. Her death in Attack of the Clones was the first major turning point in Anakin’s fall to the Dark Side. There is really no excuse for Anakin’s actions after Shmi’s death; he goes to a very dark place, and likely taps into the dark side of the force during the massacre of the Tusken Raiders. But that’s not what we’re talking about rn so back on track.

I bring Shmi’s death up to say that while Anakin was tracking down Obi-Wan’s “murderer” I didn’t fully realize that Obi-Wan had disguised himself as Hardeen and I was genuinely worried that Anakin was about to unalive an innocent man. I really believe that the only thing that stopped Anakin from trying (and maybe succeeding) to kill Obi/Rako was like he said: he knew that Obi-Wan wouldn’t have wanted him to. This is important because the last time Anakin lost a family member he brutally murdered an entire village of Tusken Raiders, children included, and I think it’s safe to say that Shmi “the biggest problem in the universe is nobody helps each other” Skywalker would not have wanted that. I’ve finally arrived at one of my main points; this arc shows a crucial bit of character growth by showing an Anakin that is capable of thinking his actions through and not just reacting out of anger even after the loss of one of the most important people in his life; something he was previously shown incapable of when his anger and grief blind him. This turns this arc into an sort of midway point on Anakin’s fall; he’s clearly tempted to give into his anger and pain again, but he is able to resist this time. A younger Anakin may have killed “Hardeen” then and there. 

This scene really contrasts with Anakin’s actions in Revenge of the Sith in a way im not sure how i feel about yet. On one hand it has potential to make Anakin’s actions in Revenge of the Sith feel too out of character. We just saw Anakin able to see past his own emotions in the wake of the death of a loved one so what makes this different? On the other hand this arc can be used to show just how desperate Anakin is to not have to feel that way ever again. It’s also good for showing how much influence Palpatine has had on Anakin in the space between this arc and Revenge of the Sith. As for why Anakin may be unable to think past his own feelings in Revenge of the Sith when he appeared perfectly capable in the arc, a likely reason is that there really wasn't anything Anakin thought he could do for Obi-Wan anymore because he believed him to be dead, but with Padmé, Anakin knew she could be saved if he could just get her the proper care. But his fear of being exiled from the Jedi Order, and his increasing lack of faith in the council led him to believe that he had no choice other than to trust in Palpatine. And no hate to Yoda but im sure when Anakin did try to reach out (even as vaguely as he did) Yoda’s response of “Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.” didn't appear to be very helpful (especially considering that he is well aware that listening to Ahsoka’s visions and responding appropriately saved Padmé’s life (not sure if Anakin knows about that though)). These three episodes show pretty well how/why Anakin may have felt that he had nowhere to turn but Palpatine.

These groups of episodes actually show negative character growth (is that the right term?) in Anakin. He goes from commiting mass murder rated E for everyone to understanding that his loved ones would not want him to seek revenge in this way, but then he backslides into this lightsaber is rated E for everyone by Revenge of the Sith. Logically he should know that Padmé would never have wanted him to do what he did; he has to know what he’s doing is wrong, but he’s incapable of seeing another way out because he cannot handle even the thought of losing Padmé. He’s too desperate to not lose her, and so sure that there’s no other option that he manages to convince himself that he needs to do this for her. I find this entire arc really interesting but unless i want to be here all day the most i can do here is point out that it exists and that it peaks in the Rako Hardeen arc. Surprisingly i do have a life outside of writing long posts, and i lack the time and energy to analyze all of Clone Wars and write about every event that led to Darth Vader (there are so many). On top of that i actually haven’t seen all of Clone Wars; just the episodes most important to understanding Anakin’s fall.

Onto my next point, we just talked about the growth Anakin showed in this episode; now onto why i believe that this arc was instrumental in Anakin’s fall. (Disclaimer: I do not think that removing this arc alone could have saved Anakin, but i do believe it would have helped a good bit). I’ve already touched on Anakin and Obi-Wan’s bond so im not gonna do that again. 

Ive said it before and i will say it again; it was super fucked up of Obi-Wan and everyone else on the Council to use Anakin’s (and Ahsoka’s) reactions Obi-Wan’s “death” for their own gain. It was super manipulative and they absolutely knew what they were doing.  Obi-Wan even explicitly says, “Keeping Anakin on the outside was critical. Everyone knows how close we are. It was his reaction that sold the sniper. I'm sure of it.”(Deception season 2 episode 15). He knows just how devastated Anakin would be by his death, and he uses like Anakin and his mental and emotional well-being mean nothing to him (I know this isn’t true but its probably not hard to believe that someone doesn't care about your feelings when they’ve just tricked you into thinking they’ve died for their own gain). The Council really proves time and time again that they do not care about Anakin’s (or maybe anyone’s; Anakin was far from the only one close to Obi-Wan left unaware of his deception) mental or emotional wellbeing, but tbh i think this is the worst example of how callous the Council can be. And on top of all of that it was Obi-Wan who decided to keep Anakin in the dark Obi-Wan who should have known better; if we assume that Anakin is at least 20 in Clone Wars; Obi-Wan has known Anakin for at least 10 years, and has practically raised him from the age of 9, and yet somehow, somehow he had this idea and didn't see a single thing wrong with it. (And they really picked the worst possible person for this; like yea let’s trick the most unstable Jedi we have into thinking his closest friend/ father figure was murdered)

This arc’s main purpose (IMO) is to really show the beginnings of Anakin losing faith in the Jedi and putting more and more faith in Palpatine. Anakin trusted Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan betrayed that trust. Beyond that Palpatine is able to make Anakin begin to doubt how much the Council is telling him if they didnt tell him something as crucial as this. We even see Anakin parroting Palpatine’s “concerns” of the council not telling Anakin the full truth the Obi-Wan and the end of the arc. This arc is instrumental is establishing Anakin’s loss of faith in the council and shows how much he trusts Palpatine and sees him as a real friend.

Anyway I’m sure I had more I wanted to touch onand if I remember I will definitely edit this post but for the now I just wanna say. A) I love Obi-Wan a lot; this arc just really was not it. I do not understand how he thought this was in any way acceptable but I do still really like him. B) i fully understand that Anakin’s actions are his own and he does take a share of the blame for his own fall.

[raidbossmadi]

People Like Us: Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Blood in the Sand Previous Chapter: Here 

This chapter includes an appearance by JK who belongs to Jak

“Did you hear?”

“They would’ve taken the whole settlement out if one of the Carnivore Cities hadn’t shown up…”

The Cathedral halls were abuzz with gossip as Sloane stepped out of the private elevator on the way to a hastily called meeting. Before she could take another step one of her retinue of Handmaidens held a hand out to stop her advance. Another flagged down the nearest priest and signed to them where they needed to go. Sloane could appreciate that the Handmaidens vow of silence came in handy in situations like this where she otherwise would have to yell over the crowd.

The priest on the other hand was fully prepared to do so. Sloane watched as they inhaled a deep breath.

“Children of the vault, your Blessed Sister wishes to travel these halls. Please make way.” The words echoed over the commotion of the crowd high into the vaulted ceilings of the Cathedral. A moment passed before the crowd split, people moved to either side of the hall like a switch had been flipped.

“Thank you, Priest. You may continue your duties.” Sloane said as her handmaidens motioned her to continue their journey through the halls.

The buzz of gossip continued, albeit much quieter now that one of their gods walked among them. Sloane caught groups sneaking glances at her though quickly looking away before she could meet their glance, a few gave the CoV salute to her but most just lowered their voices and lowered their gaze.

The large doors to antechamber of the meeting hall swung open as she approached. She looked about the chamber and noted that a few handmaids were sat on one of the benches against the wall. The designs on the masks designated them sister superiors. She surmised that this meant that she was running late, the other department heads already arrived and inside.

Her handmaidens opened the door for her and she nodded in thanks as she stepped inside the meeting hall.

The other department heads were in fact already there. Jaxon, Juniper, and Lydia stood by a water cooler chatting while Hephaestus and Mouthpiece did the same across the room. Tyreen and Troy sat at the table frowning at a laptop in front of them.

“Sloane. Come.” Tyreen said not even looking up from the laptop.

On her way past Juniper and the girls Sloane made note of their body language and they seemed relaxed so she assumed there was nothing to worry about. Nevertheless the hair on the back of neck was raised, perhaps her siren senses picking up on something she could not.

She pulled up a seat to the right of Tyreen, the other department heads filed into their seats after her.

“Has everyone seen the video?”

Everyone nodded. The video in question being the Raiders attack on a CoV base. The CoV had been losing badly before the carnivore city Tartarus pulled up at the opportune moment and turned the tide of the battle. Sloane had not understood until she’d seen the video why they were called carnivore cities until the giant steel mechanism slid out of the undercarriage and ‘swallowed’ the Raiders vehicles whole.

“So you all understand what this means then right?” Tyreen asked.

The group of department heads all collectively shook heads no, this was an unprecedented event.

“It means,” Troy cut in “We’ll have to start fortifying our bases around the continent. This time we were lucky that Tartarus was nearby, otherwise that entire settlement would be gone. We have to protect what we have here, starting over somewhere else isn’t an option.”

Sloane shifted in her seat slightly, she had never been to a conflict assessment meeting before and was woefully under prepared for this side of the Twins public personas to come out.

“What would you have us do then, your Majestys?” Lydia chimed in, with talk of fortification on the table it was apparent that engineering would have to get involved.

“Halt production on the armoured T-7’s, we have enough vehicles in our armada at the moment. I want all engineers working on mobile turret units for deployment at every settlement we have here on Pandora.” Troy barked as he leaned forward, his over large prosthetic hand catching the edge of the table which strained under the push of his hydraulic powered grasp.

“Shall we send orders to Scrapburg as well?”

“Yes, I want a missive drafted and sent to Deimos by this afternoon.”

Lydia and Hephaestus nodded and pulled out their E-devs.

As Tyreen spoke Sloane felt Troy’s hand slip into her chair and wrap around the markings at her wrist. They had gotten good at discreetly siphoning energy in cases like this though the sting of the initial pull still caught her by surprise every time. He gave her a gentle pat when he was done, straightening back up like nothing had even happened.

“Juniper, I want the marketing and media teams working on getting anti-raider propaganda out ASAP. Remind them why they feel safe under our watch. The God-Queen would never let such tragedies befall her people.” Tyreen ordered as soon as Troy was done with his demands.

Juniper nodded. “As you wish.”

The rest of the meeting was dedicated to assigning priests to head out to the settlement to reassure the populace that they would be safe. The might of the twin gods would protect their flock forever more.

“Sloane, Troy, we have to go meet with the clan leaders to do damage control. I have one more thing to take care of on my way to the garage but I expect both of you to be loaded in my technical by the time I’m done.”

{ I will see to it Sloane gets there on time, my Queen} Agatha, Matron of the Handmaiden’s and Tyreen’s personal guard signed to the God-Queen.

“If you’re gonna escort Sloane who's coming with me?” Tyreen asked a clear look of surprise on her face that she tried her best to hide, it was easily apparent this was something she hadn’t planned for.

{Pallas will. You trust her to escort the blessed sister. She will serve you well.}

Pallas inclined her head at the mention, the blue and white mask obscured ever so slightly by her hood. {It would be an honor God-Queen}

“Yeah alright. Not sure what’s going on that I’m not privy to around here, but I trust your judgement Agatha if you think Sloane needs your protection for this I’ll take your word for it.”

Tyreen shrugged as she looked to her twin who rose to his feet and joined her as they exited the meeting room without so much as a glance back at their subordinates.

“We should be going too, Right?” Sloane questioned as she looked to the Matron Mother.

Agatha shook her head. “We will make it in good time, Blessed One. First though there is business here.”

Sloane blinked never having heard the Handmaid matron speak before, they only spoke in their cloister and Agatha was rarely ever there.

Juniper turned to look at Lydia who was stood with her ear on the door listening to the footsteps in the hall it would seem. Lydia nodded as she stepped away from the door and was the first to speak.

“I just want to start with I know how this looks, and you’re not in trouble nor are we planning treason.”

That got a chuckle out of Sloane who hadn’t even considered that every important woman in the CoV gathering together around her like this could have been cause for alarm. She was after all a Siren and no matter how innocent she seemed she could turn to murder at the drop of a hat were it her life on the line.

“We know what’s going on with you and Troy. That the two of you are moving on to something a little more official than before.” Juniper cut to the chase.

“Troy rambles a lot when he’s hanging around the Engineering bay of the Cathedral. I mean we wouldn’t tell anyone of course but it turns out Juniper already knew, and Agatha was filled in this morning.”

“It’s my job to know hun, and if I know it means she doesn’t which is better for all of us of course. “

Lydia gave a nervous laugh and Sloane looked between Juniper and Lydia as the pieces fell into place. She blushed, they knew granted it hadn’t been a slip on her part and she knew that Troy was not one to keep his mouth shut. The insinuation that she was in danger though, that pulled her out of the embarrassment and caught in her chest like someone had slipped a shard of ice between her ribs.

“Ok so you know Troy and I are seeing each other now is that a problem or something?” Sloane raised an eyebrow they had said she wasn’t in trouble but it sure seemed that they were here to look at her blossoming relationship under a microscope.

“Not on our part. Lydia, do you want to tell her? You were the closest to the victim after all.”

Lydia nodded. “I wasn’t always the second department head, Hephaestus was hired with his assistant, a man named Phillipe. When I joined the Children Phillipe became my mentor I learned most of what I know now from him. More importantly though, Phillipe and Troy were seeing each other. They were starting to get real serious too when Tyreen found out. She lost her mind about it, came storming into the Garage and grabbed him by the throat before having Agatha’s girls take him away in manacles.”

Agatha shifted nervously at the mention of what her girls were complicit in. Even though no one here thought lesser of them they had all had to do things against their better judgement in the name of the Twins.

“She executed him live during the morning sermon the next day. Said he’d stepped out of line. I became the new department head after that.”

“And Troy’s never had a serious relationship since…Then you came along.” Juniper interjected. She ran a hand through her curls and sighed. “We don’t want the same thing happening to you, which to be fair we don’t know how Tyreen would take the news. You’re not like Phillipe, you're one of them.”

“We‘re not even like ‘official’ yet. We’re just going on a few dates y’know. Are you sure this is something I should be worried about?” Sloane protested she felt a bit like a trapped animal she was still working through her feelings for Troy. While they were romantic in nature and she was willing to go on dates she had barely socialized with people. She barely knew what she was doing at all.

“I don’t think Tyreen cares much how official you are. If she feels threatened she’ll put the dots together in an order she likes and then you might as well be together anyway.”

“I appreciate you telling me this but isn’t it a bit late? I mean what do I do now I can’t just be like oh sorry Troy I’ve changed my mind the girls told me Tyreen might eat me?” Sloane asked a flash of fear ran through her mind like a cold river, she didn’t want Tyreen to be the enemy because as much as she had come to care for Troy the same could he said for the female twin as well.

“No not at all. We just want you to be safe.”

Sloane sat back for a moment to process this information she’d never had anyone but herself looking out for her back home. It was so strange to have them all care about her safety.

“We should get going, Iris will be waiting for you and Agatha, so can make it to Tyreen’s technical in time . You’re welcome to talk to any of us about anything Sloane.We might be loyal to the twins but we’re also loyal to each other.”

A soft murmur of agreement rose from the gathered women and Agatha motioned for Sloane to follow, they slipped back into their roles for the outside world once more.

She had a lot to think about, even so she couldn’t find herself afraid of Tyreen. Maybe the others had got it wrong, perhaps there was more to this story than any of them knew. Tyreen had only ever been friendly and accommodating but then again Troy had his hackles raised about Tyreen finding out too.

The twins were hardly ordinary people, then again she wasn’t particularly ordinary either. Though she was far less cagey about who she was before they came into her life and the trials she had faced since powers manifested. Even with the months of living under their roof and sleeping in their beds she was no closer to truly knowing where they came from save for the vague statements they made of not being from any of places they had taken her and they most definitely were not of Pandora.

She also knew that for a long time they were all they had and that perhaps it was this reliance on each other that led Tyreen to act in fear whenever it seemed her twin would need her no longer. Perhaps a fear that Troy would befriend people who did not like her and would try to take him away from her, effectively signing his death certificate without even knowing. There was only one way to get the answers to all this. Sloane would have to ask Tyreen directly, but now was neither the time or place so she set the idea aside for later.

—-

So lost in her thoughts was she that Sloane had scarcely realized that they’d been through wardrobe and that she’d changed into her ceremonial outfit which was a dress draped in silk flowers of all types and a floral crown that she was always worried would topple from her head despite the amount of hair pins she could feel against her scalp.

It was only when Agatha cleared her throat as she took a knee for Sloane to be boosted into the Technical that Sloane shook the mental fog and realized where they were.

“Oh of course. Thank you Agatha.” She muttered as she was boosted into the car. Troy and Tyreen sat with an empty space in the middle that was saved for her. Neither twin looked up from their echo devices as she sat herself down.

“Took you long enough.” Tyreen broke the silence though her gaze stayed fixed on the handheld computer.

“I was having trouble getting into the dress. But it’s fine now. You know how quickly Iris works.”

“Too small in the bust was it?”

Sloane caught off guard by the blasé tone of her voice and the small seemingly knowing smirk on her lips.

“We had that dress made before we had your exact measurements. I had Iris use mine and you can’t deny that you’re the more gifted one in that area.” Tyreen snorted the edges of her lips curling into a grin as the snort morphed into a cackle.

Sloane blushed and looked to Troy to come to her rescue but he too was giggling at his twins remark. She found that their laughter was infectious and she too laughed at the situation.

“Hoo man! That was too good.” Tyreen sighed as she settled down. Her hand came up and brushed her bangs out of her face.

This was the side of Twins people usually didn’t see, the side Sloane knew and relished the company of even when it came at the expense of her dignity.

—-

“It’s been a minute since we’ve been to the Ranch.” Troy remarked as he looked out the technical window. “Let’s hope the order has been taking good care of it.”

He was talking of course of the Ordo Agricola, a group of priests who had been absorbed into the Verdant Grove, her priests. Yet the twins had neglected to tell her what the Agricola protected only, that they were caretakers of the aforementioned ‘Ranch’ property. As such Sloane’s only contact with them in regards to running them so far was to insure they got their monthly shipments of supplies.

“Place was our first base on Pandora. We outgrew it eventually but Ty and I use it as a retreat still. We’re meeting the clan leaders here cos they don’t much like having to come all the way to the Cathedral and sometimes the easiest thing to do is the path of least resistance.” Troy cracked the door of the technical open startling the priest who was about to do the same thing.

The farmhouse and surrounding property was protected from the rolling dust storms by tall fortifications common in Pandoran architecture though they were notably newer than most of the ranch's buildings which were typical fair for a farm. Sloane recognized most of them from her childhood home farm on Eden-4. Those memories stung just a little bit, but they had been so long ago now, she had been a different person entirely.

Sloane was just about to ask where they were going when an excited yell went up on the other side of the vehicle.

“Jak-Knife my bro! Good to see you again.” Troy clapped the back of a masked bandit, dressed in gear splashed with bright neon colors. The two were clearly very happy to see each other.

Clearly not as subtle as she thought she had been Sloane found her gaze locked with Troy’s and he waved her over.

“Sloane c’mere I want you to meet my friend.”

Sloane approached, she hadn’t had much experience with bandits save for the few shopkeepers she spoke to on her errands in Temple Town. Troy’s general disposition around this one though eased her mind.

“Sloane, this is my good friend JK. They help us with the affairs of the locals that we might not be privy to and run security around the settlements. They don’t spend much time at the Cathedral which is why you've not crossed paths yet.” Troy explained.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you JK. That Troy speaks so highly of you I know you must have earned his respect.”

JK nodded, she could not see their eyes behind the mismatched lens of their mask but she felt as if they were seeing her as something other than herself.

A moment passed of the two of them just looking at each other before they turned to Troy and spoke in a whisper.

“Her verse in the song is not like yours. It is not like your sisters. Where did you find her?”

Troy blanched slightly clearly not expecting the question. He leaned down to better obscure the both of them “I’ll tell you later, yeah. After the meeting.”

He cleared his throat as he straightened back up.

“Anyway, JK here will be making sure you’re understanding everything that’s happening with the Clan leaders.”

“Oh my god, like hurry up you three we’re going to make fools of ourselves if we’re late!” Tyreen called from further up the road, impatiently waving a hand above her head.

The walk from the cars to the ranch house was a grueling test all on its own. The heat of the Pandoran day swept over all who dared walk the desert. The twins had informed Sloane that there would be no use of a parasol for this walk as there often was when they had to cross large swathes of desert. The clan leaders would see as much as a sign of weakness and they had promised that once they were inside she could have as much water as she wanted.

She cleared her mind and focused on the cacti scattered around the place. They could manage in such temperatures for their entire lives as could the bandits she was about to meet so what was her excuse? The heat melted away to a minor annoyance as they continued the trek.

Outside the ranch house several banners were freshly stuck in the dirt. The arriving clan members had stuck theirs into the soil before they entered the house to mark attendance. Tyreen counted them one by one seemingly making a mental note before she nodded to herself and opened the farmhouse door. The rush of the air conditioning inside the house quickly broke the cactus trance Sloane found herself under as she realized in that moment just how hot she truly was. She lifted the canteen that had been attached to her belt buckle to her lips and drained its contents before she sighed in relief, even though she knew that tapping into her powers like that meant she was at no risk of heat stroke when the trance broke it always made her feel so tired. Perhaps because it was an ability she had not used much until her time on Pandora and even so she did it sparingly, as it took an immense amount of focus to pull off.

Troy grabbed her hand abruptly, he pulled her in between himself and Tyreen. The door they approached had posted guards who looked them over before opening the door. Inside the room was simply the home's den, where one would expect couches to be instead sat a large wooden table ringed which was currently surrounded save for the head which was right where they were headed.

The people gathered around the table looked like they could snap all three Sirens in half and walk away none the wiser. They probably could and that was enough for Sloane to keep her eyes focused on the destination instead of letting them linger too long on any one of the clan leaders. Their tattoos and scars tell the story of lives carved from the roughness that Pandora gave its people, they were survivors.

“Good afternoon Venerable leaders of the Clans. My brother and I come before you today in the wake of an attack on our way of life. We-“

“That’s one way to put it God-Queen. I thought your MO was to avoid the Raiders detection at all. What was that settlement doing to attract attention like that?” One of the clan leaders, a well built and tall woman asked leaning over the table.

Tyreen’s eyes steel the way they always do when someone challenges her authority. “Moving ammunition. The same thing all of you do day in and day out. We have been particularly careful especially given the attacked settlement was so close to raider territory.”

“It won’t happen again. We’ve told Tartarus to stay in the area and we know the Raiders are afraid of the predator cities. Likewise we’re rolling out new defense turrets, your settlements will see them installed soon.” Troy cut in a scowl on his face as tapped his metal fingers against the tabletop.

“You weren’t here for the Lance. You don’t know what they did. Sure you read about it in your fancy books before you set foot on Pandora but you were here. The Raiders were made of people who defected but they still know the tactics they have no problem using our culture against us and you expect one lousy eating city to protect the greater population. You might want to get your eyes checked Troy you might be going blind.”

Chaos fell upon the meeting as leaders began talking over each other arguing about what the best course of action was.Then metal fist met the wooden table and the resulting crunch brought order back to the meeting.

“Enough! The next one of you to insult our intelligence gets their balls torn off and tossed out the window. So shut up or get up because I won’t repeat myself.” Golden fangs were bared, muscles tensed and ready to strike at the first sign of resistance.

“We meant no offense, God-king. To you or the Mother. Surely you can see why we would be up in arms after this. Your track record for keeping settlements safe has been fine up until this attack..”

A murmur of agreement rose from the crowd and the meeting began to disperse, however as one of the clan leaders walked around the back of the twins to go their guards snatched Sloane by the back of the neck like one holds a misbehaving Skag puppy.

“You really doing this Diamondfist?” Tyreen hissed which earned her a hard stare from the rugged man who had earned the name Diamondfist from the studded brass knuckles that were now on full display. “Kay, your choice.” There was a flash as Tyreen lifted her left hand and Sloane felt the grasp on her harden.

She looked down and saw the fingers around her neck had crystallized into Eridium and a sharp kick backwards sent the entire statue toppling over. She landed on the ground with a thud and pried the remaining fingers of her neck. She shivered as she flung the purple stone digits away from her, so perfectly preserved that even the fingernails were still present.

“It’s rude you know to not introduce someone who's gonna sit there and listen to us spill our secrets. Didn’t even hear a peep outta her.” Diamondfist growled as he observed the remains of his guards.

“My name is Sloane Idunna.Servant of the Twin Gods, who are you to lay such hands on me.” Sloane puffed up slightly in a bid to make herself look more intimidating despite the fact she was quivering in her boots.

“Bray Diamondfist, leader of the Diamondfist clan. You know nothing of our way of life and your God-twin handlers have sheltered you from it don’t think we don’t know that you stay cloistered away behind their walls. When the God-twins came to Pandora they started in the dirt like us all. They earned the respect of the leaders you see gathered here, just because they vouch for you and see some use in you doesn’t mean we all do. Even now they had to bail you out of this.”

“I’m… Sorry?” She tilted her head not understanding what the big fuss was.

“You should be. Words however, are hollow. You will meet me in the field outside the house and we will settle this the bandit way.” Bray stormed out of the house doors nearly flung off their hinges in his wake.

Sloane looked at the twins in confusion but it was Jak-knife who stepped up. “You will have to fight him. He will not hold back, one of you will have to die.”

“This is asinine let me handle it.”

“No Tyreen,” Troy placed his human hand on his sister's shoulder. “It has to be her. The others won’t accept her if she stands down. We knew this might happen, we had to do the same to earn their respect.”

Tyreen grumbled to herself but she knew her twin was right all they could do was have faith in Sloane.

The four of them walked out into the desert strip just outside the front door, where Bray was waiting. It felt like a scene from an old western, Sloane thought, all they needed was for a tumbleweed to slide in.

With little ceremony the man charged forward and with a flick of her wrist, a motion so well practiced she did it without thought seeds scattered from her pocket onto the sandy ground.

Vine erupted at her feet a moment later and latched onto the charging man. Her right hand lashed out and the vines responded in kind throwing Bray across the field. He kept coming though as she watched him pick himself off the ground and growl with renewed fury.

He was closing the gap faster this time and her blood was roaring in her ears. In all the fights she’d picked on Eden-4 she’d had the high ground, she had calculated her attack before she made, there was no time for that here. She was a bit too slow to dodge taking a hit to mid section that knocked her off her feet given the size disparity between them she tumbled head over heels in the sand. Troy growled from the side lines Tyreen trying her best to hold her larger twin back.

Sloane took stock of herself quickly and this time she threw herself, vines wrapping around her waist and tossing her skyward. Siren instinct took over as she got her bearings in the air and in a flash of green light her wings moth-like in appearance sprouted from her back and she turned in the air.

“This was cute, but I'm done messing around.” She hissed between gritted teeth. Below her the vines doubled and twisted around Diamondfist’s limbs. She was aware of a prodding in the back of her mind, more like an itch than anything else, A new source of plant life calling out to her and it was inside the clan leader. There was a wet tearing sound, a strangled yell, and a splash of blood as the leader of the Diamondfist clan was torn apart from the side by a thorny flowering vine unlike the ones that gripped at what remained of his limbs. The spores had just been there inside his lungs, exposure of some sort she supposed but this was interesting because she could feel them now in the people all around her. They had all been exposed, but to what.

As the adrenaline rush died down she fluttered to the ground and clutched at her side which she was aware now ached something fierce as she drew breath, broken ribs if she had to guess.

“Christ.” Troy breathed as he rushed to her “Good thing I was filming, plenty of content for the next let's flay.”

She snorted only to regret the action as it caused the pain in her side to flare up once more. Without words he scooped her up with his prosthetic.

“Get her back inside, We can get Allison air dropped to us faster than we can get back to the Cathedral.” Tyreen remarked. She bit her tongue lest she fall into a barrage of hounding the other siren for being so reckless and how that had made her feel.

It was a feeling Tyreen only experienced when Troy was injured, only there was something more behind it, she had found the nature sirens display of power beautiful and she wanted to shower her with praise between berating her for the carelessness. Now was not the time though there were more pressing matters to attend to.

As she watched Troy carry Sloane back into the house and she reached for her echo phone to call Allison, only one thought roiled inside her head. Sloane was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen and she wanted to make Sloane hers.

[trustsalvatorewriting]

wasteland, baby! | kol mikaelson - chapter eleven

Summary: Kol makes a deal with the Hollow to revive the first woman he ever loved. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go as planned.

Trust’s Note: Please like and reblog! I hope you enjoy. I added some Rebekah and Aniya content for y’all <3

Word Count: 2,300

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

❝ forgive me, for the things i did but most the ones i did not ❞

KOL WATCHED SILENTLY as Keres set a grimoire in front of him. The small building in the cemetary was lit up only by faded sunlight and several candles, scattered around the area. Aniya lifted an eyebrow at the witch, critical eyes watching for any reason to turn away from Keres and search elsewhere. Her mouth twitched when Keres suggested Henry Pearl's sacrifice, posture shifting at the smug look on the witch's face. Her fists clenched together, body void of any amusement as she prepared her attack against the younger witch.

Kol cleared his throat, stepping in front of Aniya. Frankly, he wasn't sure who he was protecting. He was only sure that there seemed to be a smug look on Keres's face. He narrowed his eyes, but quickly replaced it with a polite smile.

"The human is off the table, unfortunately. Perhaps we should move onto some other possible victims," Kol suggested. He all but shoved the grimoire in Keres's direction, a quiet suggestion that she find another solution.

It was an odd dynamic. Physically, Keres was much older than Aniya and Kol. She was a dark-skinned woman in her mid-to-late twenties, while Aniya and Kol were frozen in their teenage years. Still, Kol found himself a bit offended. Keres would have known to offer some respect to her elders.

Aniya lifted her chin, hand lightly pushing Kol to the side. She stared Keres in the eyes, as if daring the witch to lie to her. "You're quite insistent, aren't you? So willing to sacrifice my Henry for a spell you wouldn't stand to benefit from. Keres, he has no power; no ties to the supernatural world -- and yet, you suggest we trade his life for a thousand year old immortal witch?"

She had a sharp tongue for a girl her size. It was odd. She was different from the girl he'd found curled up in the foyer that night. Aniya Grover was strange, in a manner that made his lips curl at the edges and eyes glitter in amusement. She'd had a chameleon soul; an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and wavering as the ocean. Had it been Henry Pearl that awoke this fire within her?

Whatever the answer, Kol's stomach twisted at the seams. The thought of her wrapped in his arms was enough to make him gag. He couldn't bring himself to understand why.

Keres turned the grimoire in Aniya's direction, a smug look painted across her face as she pushed it toward her. "Sacrificed are more likely to work when the emotional bond is the same between the victim and the vessel. Tyaag spells are known for failing. It's more likely to work if you care as much about the person you're sacrificing, as you do the person you're trying to bring back. So, a best friend, a brother, a boyfriend..."

It registered then that Aniya had none of those. She'd only had Henry. Kol shifted his stance. If Keres's words were true and she chose to sacrifice someone she cared for, she could only choose Henry. As far as Aniya was aware, the Mikaelsons couldn't be killed. And regardless, she'd said once that they had all been family to her in her human days. Surely she wouldn't throw that away in exchange for a human she'd just met.

Surely she wasn't that idiotic.

Aniya's jaw clenched, a bitter smile spreading across her face. Her dark eyes bored into Keres's. "No."

Keres's eyes glimmered with delight, a smile spreading across her red lips. Her tone shifted, mocking the girl in front of her. "So you'll let an innocent human die in exchange for your brother? You are cruel, Aniya."

"He is innocent." Her confidence never seemed to waver. Her right hand clenched into a fist, the whites of her knuckles beginning to peak through her olive skin.

"Perhaps we should focus our attention on smaller spells," Kol cut in, the rising tension in the room seeming to eat away at him. "How many humans do we need for the memory spell? Fifteen? Fifty?"

"Five." Keres stared at him as if he'd gone mad. "One for each of the Mikaelson siblings."

Aniya questioned, "I thought Finn died."

"Mikaelsons never properly die. We never learned," Kol responded, then turned back to Keres. He would explain later. "Five humans in exchange for decades of memories. It's quite simple, don't you think?"

"You were humans when your memories were erased, so we only need to erase human memories." Keres explained. "They all need to be eighteen at the youngest and in their thirties, at the oldest."

Aniya frowned. "And what of Mikael and Esther? We won't be returning theirs?"

Kol nearly laughed at her question, the past centuries replaying in his brain. Mikael had hunted he and his siblings for centuries, in the hopes of murdering Niklaus and doing God knows what with the rest of them. He'd been killed and brought back countless times, once in particular as a result of Davina Claire.

Esther had been murdered by Niklaus a thousand years ago. She was killed and brought back several times as well, and each time she'd carried a sort of vendetta against her own children. It was as if she'd made it her life's goal to wipe them from the face of the Earth. But then, it had been Esther that had resurrected him in the body of a witch, and it had been Esther that introduced him to Davina.

Part of him resented her for it. Davina had made him a better person, that much was true. He'd fallen in love with her, convinced himself that the moon and sun rose and fell by her will alone. She had bewitched him, in ways he could not bring himself to justify nor understand. It had been Esther that introduced the pair; but then, it had been their meeting that caused Davina's death in the first place.

A heavy weight seemed to drop onto his chest. Aniya would never know the cruelty of his mother's actions. He might have envied her for it, but there seemed to be this part of him that felt a bit relieved.

"You're better off assuming they've truly died," Kol said after a moment.

"You two really have a thing for being melodramatic. Y'all deserve each other," Keres stated. "I'll get everything you need for the spell. Bring me five people, and I'll erase one year of their lives for each year you knew the Mikaelsons."

Aniya lifted an eyebrow. "And how do you benefit from this?"

"My people have lost their ties to the ancestors. We have no power and no idea how to practice earth magic. Tyaag magic is the closest thing we've got, so I wanna learn more about it," She answered almost too perfectly.

"These spells can't be practiced by ordinary witches--"

"So we'll make a new branch of magic," Keres shut her down immediately. "One where we don't have to die to become all powerful."

Aniya's face twisted into a glare, baring her teeth at the witch. Kol narrowed his eyes at Keres, immediately understanding the gravity of the situation. Tyaag magic had been forgotten, buried and disrespected for centuries. It had originated from polytheistic beliefs, with the hope of appeasing their gods. Aniya and her brother had given their lives to sacrificial magic and rituals, and now it would be stolen and forgotten without so much as a thought.

"People have lost their lives to practice these rituals," Aniya said. "You mean to tell me that you're willing to put the lives of children on the line, for the sake of convenience. You have the ability to practice earth magic, why not use it?"

"I'm trying to help you. Why ask so many questions?" Keres spoke as if Aniya were a child, trying to put her back in her place. Aniya seemed to fall back under Keres's gaze.

"I'll provide you your humans. I'll need only a few days."

She turned on her heel and made her way out of the cemetary building. Kol stared after her, a small voice in his head screaming to defend her against Keres. Before he could so much as let out a word, Keres said, "She's stubborn. You might want to find your humans sooner. I'm sure Klaus will figure out you're lying eventually, and we wouldn't want that."

'No.' Kol would be daggered and shoved in a box before he could begin to defend himself. In regards to Aniya, there was no telling how he would react to a betrayal from someone so foreign, and vulnerable. For all he knew, she would be killed as a form of punishment. His consequence for disobeying direct orders.

Niklaus had become a madman, a dictator over the years. Perhaps he'd spent a bit too much time with King Louis. Whatever the reason, it occurred to Kol that there was no telling how he would respond to twenty years of ancient memories being thrust toward him. He had hoped the twins had been close with Niklaus in their past lives. Then he might be a bit more lenient about completely slaughtering the poor girl.

Kol nodded half-heartedly at Keres and made his way out of the cemetary. Maybe there would be some humans in his path, grieving over a lost lover or family member. Maybe they would be heartbroken enough to wish to forget their grief, exchanging it for a bit of amnesia and the aching feeling that they were missing something... indespensable.

To be quite honest, Kol wasn't sure how he found himself in front of Davina's grave, how he'd somehow managed to wander there despite the exit being several paces away. He was met with a crack in the cement, the old stone beginning to harden, immortalizing the girl that lied behind it. He knew that he could not make anyone understand the insurmountable grief he held in his chest. He could not make anyone understand what was happening inside him, and he could not begin to explain it himself.

Immortals such as he should not have been able to love the way humans do. Humans loved based on survival, lived viscerally and vulnerable out of fear of their own morality. With the destruction of the stake, Kol feared nothing of the sort. Davina had feared it all, and she had loved him regardless of his dirtied fingers and blood-drenched lips. She had saved him, resurrected him when his family had all but forgotten him once more.

He knew he should have had the courage to move on. Humans die, witches die. It was what they were made to do -- and yet, he simply couldn't bring himself to let go of the girl that had loved him so dearly. The one that had given so much to ensure he would come back. He owed her that much.

It was when he turned the corner that he was pulled out his thoughts, attention now focused on a drunken man tossing old beer at a gravesite. Kol lifted an eyebrow.

"Excuse me." He made his way towards the man. The old man couldn't have been any younger than forty, perhaps fifty. He would be able to fill in for Finn. Nearly thirty years of memories shouldn't have too much of an affect on a bastard such as this.

"Oh, hello," He slurred, words tainted with a heavy Swedish accent. The man moved recklessly, beer spilling out of the bottle and landing on the ground. Kol wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Please, ignore me. I'm simply having a drink with my wife."

"Yes. Well, you're being quite disrespectful to her memory. Most men would kill to have had a happy marriage," Kol paused for a moment, his eyes fixating on the man's bruised knuckles. A bitter smile formed on his face. "Tell me about your wife."

"Ah, she was beautiful. We met in secondary school, you see. She was this tall brunette girl, quite beautiful in her own way. Our parents despised each other,  a sort of Romeo and Juliet-esque situation. We were together for two years before we ran off to America, claiming it was for university purposes." The old man had a tendency to stop in the middle of his sentences, taking a short sip of his drink. He let out a laugh. "My son does love to keep me away from this stuff. Says it's bad for me, the fucking idiot."

"Your son," Kol repeated, gaze flickering to his knuckles once more. His mouth began tasted of blood, a hatred beginning to sear inside of his chest. "Tell me, how did you manage to end up in New Orleans?"

"Ah, it was our first stop. Woman wanted to go to Tulane or whatever it was, but she chose me over her studies. Smart move on her behalf, perhaps one of her only ones," The man chuckled. "A while after, we found she was expecting. We had a boy, and she became ill a few years later. I stayed by her side during that time. I had promised her till death, of course. She was ungrateful nevertheless."

"How's your son?"

"Ah, he's all right now. Twenty-three, but works in a diner like his mother. Fucking idiot doesn't know how to make something of himself," He scoffed. "Sleeps all day, too."

It clicked then. Kol felt as though he'd ate the world raw. He nodded to himself and grabbed the man, wrapping a hand tightly around his mouth and squeezing until he went limp in his arms.

[belit0]

The Beginning of the End

Chapter 1

This is a project I have, where I want to develop two of my most important OCS, Indra’s children. Since Kishimoto did not give us anything about how this beautiful man created the Uchiha clan, I made my own version of the events, and here I come to show you! Plus I’ll add a third OC of mine, Indra’s wife (I did not feel like a [x reader] situation was fitting for this fic)✨🖤

Rating: E

Pairing: [Otsutsuki Indra / FEM OC]

TW: probably tons of them, but I don’t just yet

Thanks a lot to the amazing @art-blocked-gremlin for giving this two boys life!! Check out Art’s blog!!✨🖤🧙🏻‍♀️

Kuro (left) and Hikari (right). Indra’s twins!

An explosion was what woke both brothers up in the middle of the night. The room was lit up with an intense red color, from the flames that swept across the night sky from one moment to the next. The twins sat up in their beds, but their reactions were incredibly different.

Hikari was stunned as he had never witnessed such a display apart from the demonstrations of his father and mother as they both trained with murderous intent and skills.

“Why are mum and dad training at this hour, Kuro?”

The other brother, however, was aware of the facts that preceded those flames.

Kuro was always the closest to Indra, trying to follow each of his steps and imitating all of his attitudes perfectly. Both twins were arduously instructed from an early age by their father in the art of Ninjutsu, turning them into two young prodigies. But Hikari maintained his innocence intact, which his brother did not, and that distinguished them completely from each other despite being almost equal physically.

The twin who was closest to Indra developed a special and unique bond with him, sharing moments with him that his brother did not experience. Hikari, on the other hand, was always more likely to bond with his mother, and gain power from a less aggressive yet tactical point of view, without getting his hands too dirty.

It was during one of the moments alone with his father that Kuro heard the story of an extremely evil man, who had been pursuing his father with a thirst for revenge for years. This evil man, as told by Indra, tries to kill him and his family, after betraying him when they were teenagers. He will do everything to see him suffer, torture his children and wife in front of his eyes, and kill him slowly.

That day, this twin found out that their father trains them from a young age with such ferocity so that they will be able to defend themselves if one day the evil man finds them. After hearing Indra’s words that day, Kuro understood that it was his duty to protect his brother’s innocence at all costs, and that if the occasion ever arose, it would be his duty to get rid of the evil man.

At the age of 8, Kuro knows that those flame-leagues dancing outside the window do not belong to a mom-and-pop training session. Kuro knows that the evil man came to get them, and that things got ugly.

Before they can act or move, both twins hear hurried footsteps outside their room, and look intently at the door. After a few seconds, it opens, revealing an Indra dressed in his shiny, heavy armor, with two crossed swords on his back and his hair down. Both children know that seeing their father in this appearance means that a dangerous confrontation is approaching, for that protection they see on his shoulders, chest and back has been kept unused for years, as have his blades.

“Dad? Where’s Mommy?”

Hikari does not want to believe that their peaceful life is threatened, and that his father was forced into his war position again.

“My sons, come here.”

Quickly obeying the demand, both twins move into Indra’s arms, to be lifted in the air a second later. With his two children in his grip, the Ōtsutsuki uses his teleportation technique, and soon the corridor of the house is illuminated by a blue flash, while the three of them disappear.

One second later, they appear considerably away from the house where the pair of children have been raised, in the middle of a forest. Indra places his heirs on the floor, and holds them both by the shoulders, kneeling on the floor to stare into their eyes.

“Children, eyes.”

Understanding the request, the twins activate their Sharingan, and with increasing anxiety they wait for more words to understand the situation.

“Kuro… Hikari… I need you to be strong… Time is short, and your father has to take care of something urgent… My sons, my young boys. You are both warriors, you both carry my eyes, and this will guide both of you today and forever…”

“B-Bu-ut d-da-ad where’s mommy?!”

“She’s fighting Hikari… your mother is the strongest woman, and both of you must hide until we come and get you… Can you do it for us? Can you hold on together until mother and father defeat the evil man, Kuro?”

“Yes, Dad, we can… But… please… don’t… don’t leave us alone.”

"We wont ever leave you alone… you are my legacy, you are the black flames that run through my veins… Dad will always find you, I promise to return for you.”

Holding each child behind their head, Indra drew them into a hug, where he ran his arms behind their little backs.

“Be the strong ones, remember the power of your eyes… you, my two young boys, are my very soul, protect each other”.

“Yes dad.”

Both twins answered in unison.

By separating them from his embrace, Indra wiped away Hikari’s tears with bitterness, those his son was trying to hide from his eyes to look strong in front of him. He himself knew that if he kept saying goodbye to his children, he was capable of reaching the edge of sentimentality. Those kids were the cause of his soft side, a side that he never considered possible to have after the things he had lived through.

Bee had softened him up quite a bit, but the birth of his twins and their existence was something that brought unexpected happiness to the life of the Ōtsutsuki, something that washed away much of the accumulated meanness of years to give way to a light that he hardly remembered anymore.

“Go and hide, wait for us, go!”

And so both brothers ran in the middle of the night through the forest. Barefoot and wearing their bedding, they held hands, and dodged every tree and bush thanks to their Sharingan’s vision. Neither of them knew where they were going, but with his father’s words etched in his mind, Kuro guided Hikari as far as possible from the explosions heard in the distance.

Suddenly, the lattest stopped, and placing his hands on his knees, he tried to catch his breath. As the two breathed in agitation, a huge violet light shone on the horizon, along with an orange flash. The flashes of both colours constantly flickered as if colliding with each other in the air.

“Come on Hikari we have to keep moving!”

Kuro rushed his brother by the wrist, panicking at the terrifying display that danced across the sky. If one of those lights belonged to their father, he didn’t know, for Indra never wanted to share much of his past with his children beyond the story he told one of them.

They returned to the trail, trying hard to find a place to take refuge until their parents could come for them. Neither of them knew the true story of what was happening, and the only thing the children had at that moment was each other. Their hands were tightly intertwined, sharing the feelings of anxiety and panic through their union.

Eventually they found a cave, shallow and hidden among some trees. Sitting together, interlocking their arms and leaning their backs against the cold rock, they both shivered and closed their eyes, hoping that it would all be over soon, hoping to hear the voices of their parents sometime before it was too late.

“Kuro… I’m scared…”

“Nonsense, Hikari… mom and dad are the strongest people on earth… on the planet… on whatever comes next…”

“But… but… what if there’s someone just like them?”

“…”

“We never saw daddy fight… What if he’s not as strong as we thought, brother? What if…”

“ENOUGH ALREADY.”

“Kuro…”

“You’re insulting our father… he must have reasons why he doesn’t want us to see all his skills… Do you really think he can only use the Katon he uses when he trains with mom?”

“But…”

“They are both much stronger than we know! They will murder the evil man and come looking for us soon!”

“It’s okay to admit that you’re scared too, elder brother.”

“I’m not… What did you call me?”

“Elder brother… you are taking care of me like one would take care of one’s younger brother…”

“It’s okay to admit that I’m five minutes older than you, younger brother.”

“Shut it, fool… I wonder if dad had any brothers… We know mom didn’t, but what about father Kuro?”

“If he had any brothers we’d know about it. You know he had always been alone until he had mom and us. Why are you wondering?”

“I don’t know… we just don’t know anything about his life. Aren’t you curious?”

“I tell you what, when they come looking for us, we’ll ask him anything we want about when he was a kid. Deal?”

“Deal!”

Both twins laughed in the middle of the night, ignoring for a second the tragic scenario that lurked outside their safe bubble.

Suddenly, a disembodied voice spoke from somewhere in the cave, and the two children huddled together, for that sound was certainly not coming from either their mother or father.

“I can attest that Indra had a younger brother… I can tell you the whole story if you want, children.”

A chill ran through Kuro’s body, and by his side he felt Hikari shaking uncontrollably.

“W-WHO ARE YOU?! WHERE IS OUR FATHER?!”

With the Sharingan activated, the twin scanned the darkness, looking for the source of sound, the threat. Suddenly he found a man, tall and dressed in a white coat.

“Papa, papa, is that them? Is that them?”

The voice of a third child echoed in the cave, and both twins were stunned. Where did a child come from and why was he asking for them?

“Yes, son, they are your cousins.”

“NONSENSE, WHERE ARE OUR PARENTS?! SPEAK UP BEFORE I KILL YOU.”

“ Certainly you are my elder brother’s sons, I have no doubt about that. I would expect nothing less from Indra’s kids.”

“ ANSWER ME!”

Kuro was beginning to lose his patience, and with him, Hikari was growing more and more courageous in the face of the stranger’s evasive responses. They couldn’t be afraid of such a situation, their father had trained them to deal with such things, and they had to live up to their knowledge.

It was the boy who claimed to be their cousin who spoke first.

“Papa, are you going to tell them that their mum and dad are dead?”

The boy tried to whisper it, but in the silence of the cave, the words reached the twins’ ears easily.

Hikari turned pale in his place, dropping his arms and staring at the ground as his mouth and eyes opened wide.

Kuro tensed, all his little muscles contracted, his eyes fixed on the stranger in front of them, and he took a fighting stance. It was he who continued to speak.

“NO, DON’T LIE TO US, OUR PARENTS DIDN’T DIE NO!”

“Children I… I’m sorry…”

The stranger looked down at the ground and hugged his alleged son.

“NO, NO, NO, LIES, LIES, LIES!”

“You will come with me and- ”

At that moment, something inside the twins’ minds broke. Their hearts exploded into a thousand pieces, and their lives became blackened without warning. Hikari looked up, staring at the stranger as his brother was doing. The two children glared at their enemy with intensity, pain and agony in their red eyes.

A thick drop of blood slipped from the right eye of both of them.

An unknown and terrifying pattern was drawn in the eyes of Indra’s sons, who mourned the death of their parents by unlocking new powers.

In a second, the cave burned in black flames, which were born of Kuro’s will.

In a second, both twins were covered by a grey skeleton surrounded by matching chakra, born of Hikari’s will.

-To be continued-

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

Molia clapped enthusiastically, cheering for you loudly as you came back down to the ground.

“That was….” You shook your head, still in a state of shock but also out of breath from the amount of concentration you had just used. “That felt like flying.”

Air wasn’t supposed to be that strong - strong enough to hold you in the air - but the things Molia had taught you over the past few days… it seemed like nothing was impossible. This was a territory you never thought to explore before. Your own imagination had been limited to mere shape manipulation. Molia was showing you so much more. She showed you how to pull water out of the plants around you. She taught you how to concentrate fire in your hands, like gloves. She helped you find the life source of the plants, using it to heal your own minor scrapes and bruises that you earned in your practices without having to go the vigorous steps taught by Soomi. 

Soomi. 

Guilt churned in your heart. You hadn’t thought about her since your first day with Molia. You disappeared without a word to her. She must have been worrying herself to death. You wondered if she was sleeping or eating properly. Her sensitive nature hadn’t been factored in when you took off through that window. You hadn’t thought about several things in that moment. 

“Was is it?” Molia asked, concerned. Your thoughts must have down casted your face, a one-eighty from the excitement only moments before. 

“I was just thinking about Soomi,” you confessed. “I left without telling her so she must be losing her mind right now.”

Instead of sympathy, Molia scoffed. “You shouldn’t focus on how she feels. I doubt you’ve ever been given the same courtesy.”

“Soomi has always looked after me!” you argued. Throughout your time here, Molia had thrown comments like that about the mothers and the coven. Mostly, you’d ignored them, knowing you’d thought the same things over your years with them. But with Soomi… you still felt protective over her. She was different from the others, different towards you. “She’s like my big sister.”

“Oh, yes,” Molia nodded, acid flicking off her tongue with each word, “I’m sure she’s always been the one next you when everyone else was against you. It’s just a ploy to make you compliant. Trust me. They did the same to me.”

“That’s all you’ve been saying this whole time!” You could feel your hands heating up, as they usually did whenever your emotions started teetering over the edge. For the most part you could control it, but the concerns of the mothers still echoed in your head, founded or not. 

How dare she judge Soomi without knowing her? All this witch ever did was give cryptic hints about her past, but when you asked for more details, she’d change the subject or act like the words had never left your mouth in the first place. You were thankful for what she’d taught you, but you needed to know more if you were going to stay. The constant riddles and guessing games were driving you insane.

But Molia didn’t fight back. She lowered her gaze, her voice no louder than the wind. “I’m trying to spare you the details of my story. It may not be the way you heard it, but it still is not a happy one.”

“But I want to understand you, Molia,” you pleaded. Inside, you were still fighting between the person in front of you and the thing that had haunted your visions. They didn’t go together. They didn’t feel like two sides of the same coin; they didn’t even feel like the same country’s currency. 

Yes, it was true that there was always fear in the unknown, but you couldn’t think of Molia – who was showing you parts of yourself that had been locked away for far too long – in a negative light. And yes, she was a vampire, but saying that all vampires were evil would make you no better than the ones who called you bad for your powers. Every group had both sides, so why should her kind be any different?

Visibly swallowing, Molia turned from you, looking out into the clearing with no real subject to focus on. Her eyes glossed over as her mind rewound to a time that most of the world had forgotten. 

“You think she’s your friend,” Molia whispered. It was almost quiet enough to hide the breaking in her voice. Almost. “But all she is doing is keeping you in line.”

You couldn’t believe that. You refused to. “No. Soomi’s not like that.”

Molia whipped her head, her eyes shining a murderous red. “How do you know? Can you read her thoughts? She’s been reporting your every move to the mothers since she was first assigned to watch over you. They did the same with me.” She closed her eyes and grimaced with a ghostly pain. “I thought I could trust Tatia. She’d been my best friend for as long as I could remember. But as we grew older… I don’t know what happened, really. One day, we were out in the fields, practicing our magic. She also had a strong connection with water so we tended to play near the river.”

As if she were projecting the images into your own mind, you saw her past happening before your eyes. The two innocent witches who knew each other so well. 

Their laughter chanted in your ears as they ran through the fields of tall grass, brushing against their arms and tickling their elbows. The water in the river was clear and flowed along at a gentle current. It was a scene that was so familiar, like a moment from a period movie. 

Splashing each other with the water, they giggled and ran around, careful not to trip over their long dresses as they played.

“That’s not fair!” the girl you didn’t recognize – who could only be Tatia – complained. Molia had sent an orb of water straight for her friend that was bigger than the former could manage. Her dark hair was soaked, clinging to her pretty face. 

“Little did I know that Tatia had harvested a jealousy,” Molia narrated. Just as her words broke through your mind, the scene shifted.

The sky darkened up above and the girls went from laughing in the sun to lying down in the dying grass, smiles absent from their faces. 

“Tatia never told me, but the other witches were fearful of my growing powers. And they’d asked her to start letting them know about what I was doing at all times. A wish she granted all too willingly.”

The field dissolved to a house made entirely of wood. Lighting was low, only the soft glow of candles gave you enough to see by. Molia was standing in front of a door that was partially cracked open. Through the open space, Tatia was leaning down to someone who could only be an elder, given their age and dress. She was whispering unintelligibly in the elder’s ear. A stern and decided expression was on the older woman’s face. When Tatia exited the room, she barely made eye contact with Molia before she hurried down the hall. 

“My closest friend in the world was no longer by my side. I was all alone. But not for long.”

Complete darkness took over the scene. The air grew cold. As the moon drifted out from behind the clouds, the mouth of a cave came into view. Two people stood close together, their body language giving off the feeling of a dance between predator and prey. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

The man chuckled at Molia’s hiss. His eyes shined red in the night, giving away his true nature immediately. “But aren’t you the one who came to me?”

Molia turned her head downwards. “I had nowhere else to go. I don’t know what they’re planning, but I can feel them turning against me.”

The malicious nature of the vampire smoothed into one of sympathy. His shoulders dropped and he lifted Molia’s chin gently with his index finger so he could meet her eyes. “You do not owe them anything, sweet child. Come with me where they cannot touch you.”

Shaking her head, Molia pulled away. “I can’t. They’re my coven. Perhaps if I talked to them-”

“What good would that do? Do you truly think their jealousy will let them hear you?”

“I have to try.”

Screams erupted behind you and suddenly it was daylight again, in the town square. Two men held Molia captive with ropes tightly bound around her. 

“Mother, please!” Molia begged as she fell to her knees. The area was crowded with onlookers who kept their distance, children hiding behind their parents’ legs, but too curious to run away.

The elder from before stood a few feet in front of Molia, chanting as she read aloud from a book. A binding spell. The pleas that rang through the air fell on deaf ears.

Looking around desperately, Molia found the one person who had been her friend. “Tatia, help me! Please! Make them see reason! Make them stop! It was an accident! I swear!”

But she did no such thing. She didn’t even have the decency to walk away with a drop of remorse. She kept standing there, staring at Molia with a blank, unashamed expression. 

Then, the wind picked up. Lightning flashed from the sky that had been clear and blue just moments before. Several struck the thatched roofs of the houses surrounding the square, creating fires that quickly went out of control. The ropes that were wrapped around Molia burst into flames. Just before they could be burned, the men let go and jumped back. But they didn’t run away. 

Shivers ran over their bodies. Deep growls rumbled in their chests. Then the beasts burst forth. 

Strips of cloth that used to be shirts and pants flew through the air as the wolves landed on their paws. Over and over, they tried to get at Molia, who kept them at bay with her fists of fire. The witches, too, tried to close in around her, but lightning strikes stopped them each time they took a step. 

“This is exactly why the binding spell must take place!” the elder yelled over the wind. “It cannot be controlled!”

“I can control it!” Molia screamed back. 

The elder scanned the area as if pointing out the fires and mayhem that had been unleashed upon the village. People were screaming, running around to not get burned or to try and save what was left of their homes. 

Molia fell to her knees, her fire – both literally and figuratively – dying out. But still, a defiance shined in her eyes as she stared at the elder. “You will not have me,” she declared. Holding up her hand, she drew water out from the well nearby and willed it to freeze in the shape of a dagger. “But some day, I will have you.” 

Before she could be stopped, she plunged the dagger into her stomach. Water and blood mixed into the dirt as she fell down to her side. 

“NO!” 

You leapt forward as the vision dissolved away. Only Molia’s grip on your hand kept you from falling face first into the grass. 

“Its okay,” Molia comforted you, rubbing her cold hand up and down your back. “They buried me, but I’d ingested the vampire’s blood beforehand. I awoke the next night and started my immortal life.”

“How?” you asked breathlessly. “How could they do that to you?”

“Power does that to people.” Helping you down to your knees that were shaking violently, Molia adjusted so she was crouching in front of you. “Witches are the worst for it. They want to be the most powerful in the coven, the most powerful of supernatural creatures, whether they voice it or not. If anyone comes along that threatens that power, then they’ll do whatever they can to eliminate them.”

Your entire body was shaking now over what you had seen. “Th-the binding spell-”

“They’ve threatened you with it, too, haven’t they?”

You nodded, unable to confirm it out loud. 

“It’s their favorite threat,” Molia spat. “But I will never let that happen to you. As long as you stay with me, they’ll never touch you.”

“But Soomi-”

“(y/n).” With a wave of her hand, Molia took water from the grass around you and pooled in her hands. Under her breath, she whispered an incantation that you’d heard before but never had tried yourself. Divination was never a strong suit of yours, despite the visions in your head. 

In the surface of the water, you watched as Soomi observed you from around corners, a cell phone up to her ear and her lips moving quickly. The downside to this type of spell: no sound to know what was being said. She didn’t look wicked or scheming, like Tatia had, but you could still understand what was happening. The scene shifted to a meeting of the mothers and Soomi. The topic was a heated one – and you knew that it was centered around you. And your seemingly one defender sat there quietly, not speaking up once on your behalf. 

The image rippled away and Molia let the water slip through her fingers, back to the dying grass below. 

“They don’t care about us,” Molia said softly. “Those who plot against their own sisters don’t deserve to call themselves witches. They don’t deserve the gifts that have been given to them.”

You felt numb. You felt abandoned all over again. It seemed that was the theme of your life: abandonment and betrayal. 

As a child, your parents had given you up to be raised by the mothers; an old tradition that had died out long ago. But your family clung to the old ways, even sending your male cousin off to live with human relatives despite the fact that he showed signs of being gifted. They didn’t care that a child needed their parents. They tossed you away to be someone else’s problem. And you hadn’t heard from them in years. 

Now there was this. Why did everyone you leaned on step away? You could feel your fists tightening, nails biting into your skin at the tension. What you didn’t see was the triumphant smirk on Molia’s lips.

“What are you planning on doing?” you asked, looking up. 

“There’s something that we can do,” she replied cryptically. “It’s only on the blood moon that we have this ability, from what I’ve been able to discover. But I need you to keep an open mind.”

Closing your eyes, you said through gritted teeth, “Just tell me, Molia.”

“What are humans made of?” Molia laughed. “Mostly, anyway?”

You frowned, thinking back to the one human anatomy class you had long ago. “Water?” Your answer hung in the air until the obvious came to you. Snatching your hands away, you backed away. “You want to control people?”

“Not forever!” She reached for you again, but you dodged her hands. “Only long enough to show them that they can’t keep us down. I want you to take back your life. You could be head of the coven. We could be the ones who make the rules for once. Think about it, (y/n). Think about the things we could do if we were the ones in charge. For example: all the covens are divided. No one is willing to unite them. But maybe we could. We could start with yours and then another. Soon, the witches could be one again. And no one would have to fear their own powers. No one would be suppressed or scared.”

“But what you’re suggesting is exactly that.” Enforcing peace with violence was nothing but hypocritical. And you didn’t want to live your life that way. 

“It’s only temporary,” she insisted. “How many countries had to insight war to bring peace to their lands? To unite different tribes under one banner?”

That… ugh. You hated how she could make the most insane ideas sound logical. But she was right, wasn’t she? If you could really stop the infighting and bring the witches together, why would anyone need to worry? And you could make sure that no one was abandoned like you were. The more you thought about it, the more sense it made. Only one thing stopped you from fully saying yes. “Would some people get hurt?”

Molia stood up and looked down at you with soft eyes. A surprise given their permanent state. But you’d grown used to seeing kindness from such an extreme color. “(y/n), I will not turn you into a murder.”

You let out a breath of relief. 

“Good. It’s settled then. Tonight, at the height of the blood moon, we’ll face your coven and start our mission with one of success.” Her glee suddenly gave way to a more serious expression. “However, there is still something that could stand in our way.”

Pushing yourself up to your feet, you brushed the grass and dirt from your pants. “What do you mean?”

“Several years ago, your coven helped save one of the wolves’ mates. I’m sure you’re aware?” Molia waited for you to nod before continuing. “Since then, the pack has vowed to protect the coven in dire situations, should they need it. I’m afraid the pack might position themselves between us and the others.”

“I can’t do it then,” you said. “I can’t fight Sehun.”

“You still haven’t let him go?”

You scoffed, throwing your hands up in the air. “I couldn't if I wanted to. The mate connection doesn’t just go away. It’s always there, even if I didn’t want it.”

Molia scowled. “Even if? Think about it. Do you really want to be tied to a person like that? To someone that wouldn’t listen to you? Who said that they would have preferred for you to be human like the rest?”

You wanted to argue. You wanted to say, again, that he was right about it not being Mina and that he probably saved Dana a lot of pain and heartache. But your own hurt was growing. You couldn’t explain why, only that the more you thought about it, the more your heart cried out in despair. Why did you have to live with this? Why weren’t you given a choice?

“He betrayed your trust, dismissed you. What kind of a mate is that?”

“What’s the point?” You kicked at the ground. “There’s only one spell that can severe the bond and both parties have to be willing.” If you were actually able to get to that point, you knew you would crumble. Perhaps you were holding on to that small piece of hope. That maybe if he didn't want to let go of the bond, then maybe he’d still want you, witchiness and all.  

For the past couple of days, he’d haunted your thoughts. At night when you tried to sleep, he was there, lying next you and running his fingers down your face. He asked you to come back to him, to try again. But then you’d blink and he’d disappear in an uncatchable smoke. 

Was it just wishful thinking? Or maybe a seed of doubt about what you were doing here with Molia?

But then the sun rose and using your powers occupied your mind. Molia kept you focused, distracted almost. But you also felt the happiest, most relaxed, and confident that you’d ever felt in your whole life. And you didn’t want to give it up. 

That all too familiar look flashed in Molia’s eyes. It happened every time she was about to divulge a secret she found particularly alluring. 

“What if I told you there was another way to break the bond?

You shook your head. “That’s impossible.”

“Not for a vampire.”

[serararku]

Homesick

She woke up first; a rare occurrence if there ever was one. It was always a treat to be the first one out of bed, but S’era had to be careful- R’zevi was, for the most part, a remarkably light sleeper. If she wanted to start her day without interrupting his peaceful rest, she would have to do so as quietly and as slowly as she could manage. 

Ilm by ilm she pulled away at the covers, until her bare toes popped out from beneath the blankets. She pressed her elbow against the bed and pushed herself upright, overtly cautious of the one creaky spring residing somewhere between their bodies. With her thumb and index finger she lifted his wrist off her waist, and pushed the spare blankets underneath so he could still have something warm to hug. Now that the hardest part was finally out of the way, S’era slowly swung each naked leg off the edge of the bed, and planted her feet on the freezing wooden floor.

“What should I make him for breakfast?”

Her eyes darted along the inner confines of the fridge to find an abundance of alcoholic delights, and a stark few items that could even qualify as a balanced breakfast. She was no cook- that much was certain- but she wanted to try. Fortunately he would eat just about anything she made him, whether he actually liked the taste or not. The end of her tail bent and twisted when she saw it; the half-empty egg carton tucked in the back corner like the social outcast at a party. Frying up some eggs was so easy even S’era could do it, and as long as she watched the temperature closely, the sound of them cooking wouldn’t be enough to stir him from his sleep.

S’era covered her mouth to muffle her yelp when the bubbling butter she tossed onto the pan spit at her. With her gamble to excite her lover should he wake as she was cooking him breakfast, she neglected the golden rule of cooking; never do it naked. But she couldn’t stop and put on some clothes now- by the time she settled on an outfit for the day, the butter would be burned and so would the last precious eggs they had. “If you’re crazy enough to stick your hand in a fireplace, you can take a few stinging drops of butter…!” She took in a few deep breaths, protected her nipples with a free arm, and used her tail to protect everything south of the border.

Six spotted dodo eggs. Garlean salt. Crushed and dried red peppers. La Noscea cheddar. All mashed together in a clumsy attempt to make something edible -- the smell was fantastic at least, yet it looked absolutely awful. Another genius idea popped into her head, and she fetched several premade flour tortillas, dropped her sizzling goop into them, then folden them all in half. Breakfast was served. Breakfast was saved.

“Oh, Zeviiii~” S’era softly called, turning to look up at the second-floor. “Breakfast is reaaady!” She heard him stir and mumble under his breath, but much to her dismay, he didn’t sit up and see her in all her glory. Disappointed but not deterred, she slid his breakfast onto a plate and cautiously took the slender stairs back up to the curtained room suspended over the bathtub. When she used her tail to sweep away a curtain to step inside, the hairs on her nape stood up, and she felt the back of her scalp tighten.

R’zevi had the blanket tucked against his body, his arms and legs wrapped around it like he was holding her instead. He looked so innocent, despite their escapades the night prior, like a child clinging to his mother’s leg. Seeing him curled up in their bed washed away any intent to wake him. Instead S’era gently set the plate down on the nearby drawer and slipped back into bed with him. Keeping his stomach full and his stones empty was the greatest thing to happen to her in recent memory, but the small details are what truly brought her joy.

It was the way he looked at her. How his stunning blue eyes flickered the first time he saw her naked. How his ears would drop ever so slightly and his voice would rise whenever he spoke to her when they were alone. When the corners of his lips would curl back before he told her a lie. Or even when she was simply sitting in his lap, or running her fingers through his soft hair, how strongly his heart would pound against his chest from excitement. She could feel the hairs on his arms stiffen when she touched him, even now as he slept. Noticing his beaming smile when he first noticed her enter the room usually remained the highlight of her day. But S’era wanted more; she wanted her belly to swell from his child. She wanted to see if he would cry when she walked down the aisle. She wanted to grow old with this hard-headed fool -- the only man in this world that was as insufferably stubborn as she was. But how could she walk with him hand in hand into the rest of their lives when she still kept things from him?

Even staring face to face with her lover, close enough to smooch him, was not enough to keep her worries in check for long. The overly cheerful façade she’s maintained for a few moons or so, coupled alongside the Ashen Wolves dealing with their own problems, has kept attention away from her mental health for the time being. But it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t.

S’tage’s killer was still out there, roaming free. The love she thought she had for that man had long extinguished, but it didn’t change the fact that someone she knows killed him. But for what reason? Spite? Was it a scornful lover she had from before? If they were jealous of her affections for S’tage, then why didn’t they return to her when she was heartbroken and single? She didn’t get it -- and a part of her was grateful she didn’t know the truth, for the truth would be far more terrifying than she could imagine. And yet… deep down she knew she wouldn’t be able to leave the past where it lay until she had answers to questions she wasn’t comfortable with handling, especially by herself.

Another unanswered question and troubling mystery revolved around her wrathful anger. She’s been angry before -- furious even, but never to the extent where she became a mindless killing machine. Those filthy Garleans all deserved a gruesome death and more, but, not by her hand; they should have swung from the gallows like every other criminal. The death she gave them was still, in fact, merciful. But all that was beside the point. Learning how to properly wield a katana in the endangered and nearly forgotten Doman arts had awakened something sinister in her. She could hear it ringing in her head. Wiggling in her blood. Scratching at the cracks in her skull. If she was cursed, she couldn’t bear the thought of passing this maddening rage down to her children; what if in her blind anger she hurt them? She shuts down when she goes into that murder trance. Her next ‘episode’ could have her killing the closest people in her life.

As much gil as she could afford, all went to every doctor, every alchemist, every scholar, and every conjurer she could find, and whenever R’zevi asked what she was spending all her money on, the usual excuse was ‘treats’ and ‘snacks’. Whether he believed her or not, she didn’t know for certain; but she couldn’t keep lying to him forever. She needed answers, and she only had one last card up her sleeve left to get them -- her ancestral home and the life she left behind.

The Zu Tribe.

S’era smiled when R’zevi wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, mumbling something softly in his sleep. His breakfast was already cold by now, but she didn’t mind. Slowly she closed her eyes in his warm embrace, and drifted back to sleep.

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