#world's strongest cone of shame

[dovalore]

carby in the cone of shame

[13uswntimagines]

We’re the Lucky Ones (Christen Press x Reader)

Request: the reader is a recovering drug addict and doesn’t think they deserve everything they have? if you want to maybe incorporate cp as the reader's wife

Author’s Note: This one was also going to be way more angsty, but when i sat down to write it, this popped out. I hope you enjoy! Hit me up with comments, and feedback or if you just wanna say Hi!

The little red poker chip felt heavy in your hand, the ridges catching on your fingers as you rubbed it. As you traced the little 1 that was imprinted in the center. 

A year ago, you never thought that you would see this day. The day that marked your 1 year anniversary of being clean. The fight to get here was rough, an uphill climb they called it, but you could honestly say that you felt so much better like this. And it helped that you were no longer at risk of losing everything you held near and dear to you. That you no longer had to push them away out of fear. 

“You ready babe?” Christen asked from the driver's seat beside you. Her hand moved to cover your own, stopping you from rolling the poker chip between your fingers. You sighed, finally meeting her eyes. 

“You promise it’s just Tobin, Kell, and Lex right? Like the youngins didn’t convince you that I wanted a party?” You asked hesitantly. While some people thought that it was a celebratory occasion, you just wanted it to be normal. 

You shouldn’t need a one-year sobriety date at all. They shouldn’t have to worry about you taking pain killers after a game. You shouldn’t have let them down in the first place, and you didn’t want to draw any more attention to your worst life choices and coping mechanisms than absolutely necessary. 

****

See, 2016 had been very difficult. Your mom died three weeks before the start of the Olympics, and your dad forbade you from going to the funeral because you were dating Christen. Then three games in you had a collision with a Canadian defender and ended up with a broken clavicle, benching you for the rest of the tournament. The team lost and Christen was devastated and you couldn’t help but blame yourself because you were benched. 

Instead of coping like a normal person, you self medicated with the pain pills you were given. You limped along like that, abusing pain meds and hiding your spiraling from your wife and your friends. Things had come to a head 7 months before the World Cup, and you had almost lost everything. You went to rehab, made the team, and brought home the gold. 

*****

“It’s only Tobin, Kell, and Lex and we’re just going to play some footie and get some ice cream,” Christen nodded, bringing her hand up to affectionately rub your cheek and pull you in for a chaste kiss. You smiled and your shoulders relax as you released a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Cool,” You mumbled, resting your forehead on her shoulder and taking in the comforting smell that surrounded her. You loved your wife and you would tell her every day. She ran her fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp. Her head rested on yours. 

“I’m so proud of you,” She murmured, kissing the sling just behind your ear. 

“You shouldn’t have to be,” you grumbled, sitting up and straightening your shirt. 

“Well I am,” She smiled triumphantly, more than used to you wanting to minimize every one of your sobriety milestones. She knew how hard you worked to make unnecessary amends. You were the one who decided to accept help and the one who took each very difficult step in recovery. And she would stand by you and help you through the rest. 

*****

A day playing footie with your best friends and wife was exactly what you needed to lift your spirits. Between Kelley’s antics and Tobin's jokes, you were in a better mood than ever. Alex’s pout every time you megged her was priceless and Christens giggle put you even more at ease. 

You were sitting under a tree, as it was your turn to sit out in the 2 v 2 game, focusing on Christen’s footwork (definitely not checking her out). 

You were staring so intently that you didn’t see the other ball flying in your direction, only looking up when a loud “Hey look out!!!” Caught your attention. You moved just in time to catch the soccer ball headed straight for your head, smiling at a little girl who came racing your way. 

“Whoa, kid, nice foot you got there,” You laughed, tossing the ball back towards the little girl, her cheeks flaming red. 

“I promise I wasn’t aiming for you!” The girl rushed out, not noticing your friends walking up behind her, nearly jumping out of her skin when Tobin grasper hef shoulder. 

“Don’t tell her that kid, makes the shot way less impressive,”

“What’s your name?” Alex asked, kneeling down to be eye level with her. 

“C-Camren,” She stuttered, clearly enamored by the number of national team players surrounding her. 

“Well Camren, since you almost pegged me in the head, how bout I sign it for ya?” You sent her a lopsided grin. 

“Really?” Camren asked with wide eyes. 

“Sure kid,” Your wife nods, picking up her purse from behind you to get a marker. She dug through her bag looking for a Sharpe she kept for this occasion.

“Excuse me, I don’t want to cause a problem, but are you sure she should be around kids?” A woman who she assumed was the child’s mom approached her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Christen looked up at the woman, raising her eyebrow. 

“Why?”

“Well I’m sure you ladies are aware of her… history,” The woman said hesitantly, glancing your way with disdain, and you froze the ball falling to the grass. 

“Oh, right,” you cleared your throat, trying to squash the feeling of shame, your good mood suddenly gone. You glanced down at the ball settled in the grass, refusing to look up.“well I’m sure my friends would like to sign your ball,” You sent the girl a pained smile, covering your grimace. 

“They certainly make better role models, honestly I don’t know how you stayed with her after everything she pulled,” Camren’s mother snorted as you stood, her lip curling. “you don’t deserve her,” 

Your shoulders sunk and you nodded. 

“I know, I’m gonna go,” you mumbled, pointing towards the car. You knew that Christen deserved so much better than you, but having it thrown in your face hurt. 

“I’ll go with you,” Kelley leaped up, intertwining your arms and shooting your wife a questioning glance. 

“I’ll be there in a second,” She waves you off, her lips forming a thin line. Tobin took off after you, stealing your hat when she caught up. 

“Good riddance,” The lady mumbled under her breath, staring a hole in your back as you left, missing the agitated glance Alex and Christen shared. Today was about covertly celebrating how well you were doing, about combatting the thoughts that you struggled with, not dredging up the past. 

“You know, she’s the strongest person I’ve ever met, and it’s a shame that you can’t see past a mistake,” Alex said deadly calm. The woman scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. 

“Once an addict always an addict,”

“See that’s the problem, you think you know her and the whole story and you don’t. Your kids would be lucky to turn out half as well as she has. She made her mistake and works every day to make up for it,” Christen ground out with, not sparing the woman another glance as she gathered up your belonging and stalked off towards you, shaking her head. How could people be so close-minded? 

*****

You licked your ice cream slowly, refusing to make eye contact with the four women shooting you worried glances. You were being very quiet, too quiet. 

Kelley raised her eyebrows, tilting her head in your direction and making a bunch of weird facial expressions as if to say that they needed to do something about your mopeyness. It had plagued you for a long time, your unyielding need for atonement, despite having already received it. 

Christen shook her head, afraid that pushing you would do more harm than good. Kelley rolled her eyes, deciding that if no one else was going to do it, then she was. 

“Don’t listen to any of the shit that lady said,” She said offhandedly, licking her cone and completely stopping the flow of the small talk the other three women had been having. You froze, pulling the spoon out of your mouth with a pop, wide eyeing the group. 

“I just..- she’s right. No kid should ever look up to an ex-drug addict,” You mumbled, returning your spoon to the icecream and stirring it, staring at it intently. 

“No, they should look up to the woman who has sought help,” Your wife hummed, placing a finger under your chin and forcing your y/e/c orbs to meet your own. 

“The woman who would do anything for her friends, even if it meant burying all of her own pain,” Tobin added, her hand covering yours and rubbing circles on it. 

“The most loving and supportive women that I’ve ever met,” Alex smiled, nudging your shoulder, effectively creating an Y/n sandwich with Kelley. Christen placed a chaste and gentle kiss on your lips, leaving behind the taste of her pistachio ice cream. You licked your lips chasing the flavor. 

“I’m lucky to have you guys. I don’t think I would have been able to do this without you,” You murmured, pulling the little red chip from your pocket and spinning it absentmindedly through your fingers. It was a habit you had acquired in rehab that followed you throughout your recovery. You flicked the chip with your thumb, sending it tumbling through the air, only for it to be caught by Kelley. Your eyes snapped or hers. 

“We’re the lucky ones to have someone as strong as you,”

[carewyncromwell]

Next Cinderella AU part ahoy!

Conical hats were actually considered very fashionable during the Middle Ages and the early Renaissance. What’s fascinating, however, is how they evolved into two very distinct and oddly opposing styles of hat: the stereotypical “Pilgrim” hat and the pointed hat that witches are generally depicted wearing! Around the turn of the 17th century, the most stylish variation of black conical hat was called the capotain, which is a cone, but with a rounded top -- the hat McGonagall wears in that top sketch is one of these types of hats (her dress is based on this design, which also features a shorter version of the capotain). The hats were originally fashionable among both men and women, but over time, one group of women that was most associated with wearing them were Quakers, a branch of Christianity that broke away from the Church of England and advocated quite liberated views for the era, such as the abolition of slavery, women’s rights, and a refusal to involve themselves in war. They also passionately believed that one didn’t have to attend church in order to be close to God and that one could practice one’s faith out in the world by living and dressing modestly and being active in charity work. (To learn more about the history of how the conical hat evolved into our modern image of “the witch hat,” check out this awesome fashion history video on the subject.) As one can expect, Quakers and Quaker women in particular were not well-taken-to by a lot of European society, especially by the religious movement on the opposite site of the political scale in Britain, the uber-conservative, Bible-purist Puritans. Many of these same Puritan-types got very involved in hunting witches both in Europe and in the Americas (the Salem Witch Trials are a perfect example). But yes...if one looks up pictures of historical clothing for Puritan men and/or “the Pilgrims” (A.K.A. the group of Americans that colonized Plymouth, who were Puritans), they very often wore a variation of the capotain! Although it’s been theorized by historians that the capotains worn by Quaker women ended up being associated with sin and therefore witchcraft, similar hats were also worn by the men who persecuted them. The hats were worn by both sides -- victim and accuser -- and yet most of us today look at the capotain and immediately think “witch” exclusively. Talk about irony.

Greensleeves is often ascribed as being commissioned by King Henry VIII for his second wife, Anne Boleyn (even Six the Musical references this)...but it actually was written in the later half of the 16th century, when Anne’s daughter Elizabeth I was Queen. So yeah, that’s sadly just an old wives tale. But it is a lovely song! The melody for Greensleeves has been remarkably long-lasting, even being rewritten as multiple Christmas songs over the centuries, including the still popular What Child is This?, which was written in 1865.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you all enjoy!

x~x~x~x

Carewyn very quickly threw on her mother’s green-sleeved yellow dress and as many warm wool petticoats as she could before fetching her white horse from the palace stable. She rode up through the gate in exactly twenty-five minutes, to find Orion on his black mare waiting for her. Carewyn was ready to ask Orion if everything was all right, but almost as soon as they’d left the perimeter of the gate, Orion urged his horse into a fast gallop.

“Come, my lady,” he cried over his shoulder, “let us chase that horizon!”

Carewyn had to send her horse charging forward in its own gallop to catch up with him. They rode right through the market and then out of the capitol altogether -- they avoided the road that led toward the Cromwell estate, dashing eastward. They weaved in and out of the rolling snow-capped hills, riding beside and around each other. The freedom of riding alone was enough to bring some life back into Orion’s cheeks, and Carewyn despite herself soon found herself smiling.

When they came to a stop at the top of a hill close to the northern border, Orion looked out over the edge with a handsome, endless gleam in his eye, like that of a sailor looking out to sea. Carewyn once again prepared to ask Orion if he was all right...but once again, Orion dodged the question.

“Do you see that eagle, overhead?” asked Orion.

Carewyn looked up. She did -- it was a truly handsome golden eagle, gliding in a circle through the air over their heads.

“I’ve seen eagles just like that nearly every day, up and down the border,” said Orion. “Shall we see if we can ride fast enough to overtake it in flight? Could we take flight as birds do, without ever spreading wings?”

“Orion...”

Carewyn brought a hand gently down on his arm.

“I know there’s something wrong,” she whispered.

Orion looked at her, his expression losing most of its levity and becoming much blanker and more inscrutable again.

“I understand if you can’t tell me,” she insisted softly. Her blue eyes rested on her own hand on his arm rather than his face -- with the intense concern she felt, she didn’t dare expose them further by looking straight into his eyes. “And I truly don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Your secrets are your own, and I know you have a reason for them.”

Just as I have mine.

“I only...I can tell you’re running from something...maybe even the thing you’ve being running from, every time you’ve come to see me, all these weeks...and I don’t know what to do, to protect you from what you’re so afraid of. Please...tell me what I can do.”

Orion’s black eyes trailed over Carewyn’s face, rippling with many tiny flickers of emotion that were hard to properly identify -- pain? Affection? Anxiety? Evasiveness? Shame? Longing? Who knew?

At last the Prince of Florence brought a hand out to gingerly rest on top of Carewyn’s on his arm.

“Chase that eagle with me,” he said softly.

Carewyn looked up at Orion and then at the eagle overhead as it soared off toward the nearby woods. Then she gave him a small, sad smile and nodded.

“...All right.”

Dislodging herself from Orion, Carewyn steadied her grip on her horse’s reins and flicked them to make it gallop toward the woods.

“Well, come on, then!” she called over her shoulder with the strongest smile she could. “T’would be a shame if I out-rode you in a challenge you set yourself!”

Orion’s face broke out into a brighter, fond smile and he pursued her.

The two rode their horses down the hill and into the trees. Racing side by side, overtaking each other in their strides and then catching up again -- all while Orion smiled so fully and handsomely, and looked at her with such blazing midnight-black eyes -- was a joy that Carewyn had trouble putting into proper words. His expression was full of such silent, and yet unbridled joy -- free, in every sense of the word.

“You should be allowed to feel like that more often,” Orion’s words returned to her. “Free.”

You should be allowed to feel like that too, Orion, thought Carewyn. You deserve to feel this free all the time.

The two rode with speed until they’d finally lost sight of the beautiful golden eagle. Slowing their horses into a calmer trot, they then journeyed through the trees, enjoying the peaceful serenity of the chirping birds and the pools of sunlight scattered across the muddy, snow-dusted ground.

“I’ve never been out this far before,” Carewyn confessed, her almond-shaped blue eyes trailing over the interlaced branches overhead.

Orion looked at her out the side of his eye. “...This close to the border, you mean?”

“Yes.”

Carewyn caught a strange scent in the distance -- something vaguely like the fires she’d tend to back at the castle and the Cromwell estate.

“...Something’s burning...”

Orion nodded solemnly. “Bonfires. The Royaumanian and Florentine camps aren’t far from here.”

Carewyn looked at Orion, slightly startled. His gaze had wandered northward, but it was clear his mind was far from the trees his eyes were idly resting on.

“We’re near the war front?” asked Carewyn softly.

“Yes...” Orion glanced her out the side of his eye. “...Are you frightened?”

“No,” said Carewyn.

She looked through the trees in the direction Orion had been facing.

Jacob could be over there right now, she thought to herself. The idea of seeing her brother for the first time in nine years -- of hugging him again and seeing his relieved smile -- it made her feel like her heart was being squeezed.

Orion’s black eyes scanned her longing, but fearless face, before shifting back in the direction of the trees that obscured the path toward the war front.

“The scales are going to shift again, soon,” he whispered. He could feel Carewyn’s eyes on him again. “The two sides have constantly fought for dominance...lashing out ruthlessly and then retaliating, back and forth, until they’re forced to come to a stalemate, just to catch their breath. Then one lashes out again, and the precarious balance is thrown to the winds once more...”

Carewyn’s blue eyes rippled with concern. “Orion...is something bad about to happen, out there?”

Orion closed his eyes. His father claimed he needed him, in order to lead the Florentine army in the two-pronged attack on Royaume...but it wasn’t unlikely that the King might make do and find someone else to fill that role...

“Hopefully not,” he said softly.

Carewyn reached out a hand and took hold of Orion’s wrist. Orion looked down at her hand and then up at her face -- she had trouble looking at him, but he could tell her eyes were rippling with concern. His heart felt like it was suddenly being harshly compressed, just to fit inside of his chest.

You wish to protect me from what I fear...but what I fear, I should wish to protect you from.

The King’s words returned to his mind.

“When you make mistakes, the people you cherish, that you want most desperately to protect, pay the price!”

But how could he hope to protect Carewyn from the War and the cost it would demand? How could he hope to stop it, when his own father unknowingly would be sabotaging his efforts for peace? How could he live with himself, if he had to chain himself to the War the way the King had -- to fight against the Royaumanians he’d met and broken bread with as equals?

Orion took several deep breaths before speaking again.

“...My father wishes me to join him, at the front,” he admitted lowly.

Carewyn looked up, startled. “...Your father’s in the army?”

“Yes,” said Orion. “He’s...a high-ranking officer. He expects that I will follow his example and lead our ranks into battle.”

Carewyn considered Orion for a moment. “...You don’t want to.”

Orion’s eyes darkened significantly. “...I don’t want to.”

When Carewyn didn’t respond, he pressed on.

“My father believes that the War can only be ended through force -- that justice can be only brought about by utterly destroying our enemy. But...I cannot believe that. I grew up on the border between Florence and Royaume. The town I’m from is so close that one could hop easily from one to the other. It caused some tensions, yes...but it also made it so that at first meeting, or even third or fourth, you never knew what side of the divide a person was on. And so I found myself constantly thinking...what is it that truly separates us? Is it morality? Is it values? Humanity? And yet I don’t think either side can boast having any of those things exclusively. It instead all comes back to a mistake made fifty years ago -- a land dispute that ended more violently than it should have. So many people have died, all because of that...and because neither King has decided to be the better man and choose forgiveness over vengeance.”

Orion bowed his head, his eyes closing solemnly.

“...My father asked me to help him lead the army, in an upcoming attack on the enemy forces -- one that he believes could end the War once and for all. But...”

He exhaled quietly through his nose.

“...I couldn’t accept that burden...so I left.”

Carewyn didn’t respond. Orion scanned her face, trying to read her reaction, but it was proving difficult when she wouldn’t look at him.

Does she...disapprove? he couldn’t help but think. She did think he was Royaumanian -- she didn’t understand that he wanted to protect her brother, not prevent him from returning home...but how could he explain that to her, without...?

“I know that the War could end, if my father’s strategy succeeds,” Orion explained, trying to keep his voice level despite the anxiety he felt, “but this is only one strategy of hundreds, all of which have failed. And even if our side was victorious...however many lives I could potentially save by fighting, I would be snuffing out far more. I realize that this is my responsibility alone, and sometimes one must be willing to do what others will not, to reach their goal...but flowers bloom under sunlight and water, not blood. If we could avoid burning a forest to the ground, wouldn’t it then be easier to bring it back to life?”

“Yes...but if someone wants to set a forest ablaze, you have to act if you want to stop them.”

Carewyn’s response was very soft and solemn, but there was no anger or disapproval -- instead, to Orion’s immense relief, it sounded almost encouraging.

“If you believe that Royaume could make peace with Florence, then you need to speak out for it,” she said firmly. “If you see it and believe in it, that’s great...but you need to make others see and believe in it too, if it’s going to really come about. Talk to your father, make him see things as you do -- and if he isn’t able to, then...well, I’ll talk to Andre, and you and he can discuss it together.”

Her lips spread into a gentle smile and she gave his wrist a light squeeze.

“My own family may have profited because of the War, but the people of Royaume, the common man, would celebrate, if peace could come about without further loss. If Florence would also, then that’s a step in the right direction. There’s more than one way to fight for something...all it requires is enough courage to place one’s goal over whatever risks stand in their way.”

Orion stared at Carewyn for a long moment. As he did, the black of his eyes seemed to melt, gaining a warmer, softer light that resembled candlelight rippling in endless, dark water.

“...Carewyn...”

Before he could say anything more, however, there was a loud explosion in the distance. Carewyn’s horse reared back in terror, which in turn spooked Orion’s, and both Carewyn and Orion had to quickly calm their steeds.

“Whoa, whoa,” Carewyn whispered in her horse’s ear, “easy, boy...it’s all right...”

Orion stroked his horse’s mane with a slightly trembling hand, breathing in and out as he tried to steady his heart rate. He then looked at Carewyn with a more serious eye.

“...Perhaps we should make our way back to the valley. It’s not safe here.”

Carewyn looked northward through the trees again. “Do you think your father’s started the attack?”

“No. Coordinated attacks require both strategy and assignments, as well as the element of surprise. I’d say this is a skirmish between younger, less experienced soldiers -- and if so, it’s likely to run farther afield and cause damage outside the designated battlefield.”

Orion could see Carewyn still hesitating. Although there was no fear in her face, she seemed reluctant to leave -- likely thinking of her brother, more than the risk to her own safety...

After a brief flicker of uncertainty, Orion reached out a hand and took hold of Carewyn’s arm not unlike how she’d taken his earlier.

“From everything I’ve heard from you about your brother, I truly cannot see him not doing everything he possibly can, to look out for your well-being...including looking after himself.”

A second smaller explosion in the distance made Orion stiffen slightly, his fingers tightening that bit around Carewyn’s arm.

“...We should move out of harm’s way,” he said as levelly as he could.

Seeing the paleness of Orion’s face, Carewyn relented at once.

“Yes.”

Bringing a hand up onto Orion’s horse’s reins, she directed both of them around so they could start riding back out the way they came.

As they came around a cluster of trees, however, their attention was caught by the sound of the cry of an eagle and many snapping branches. Carewyn’s horse reared back again, just barely dodging a large clump of golden-brown feathers that collided sharply with the ground.

Carewyn once again rushed to soothe her horse. Orion quickly climbed off his horse and bent down to get a better look at what had fallen.

It was a golden eagle, just as brilliant as the one they’d chased into the wood -- perhaps even the same one. It was conscious, but clearly in pain when it tried to return to the air -- its left wing crumpled up against its side and covered in blood and what looked like grayish ash.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed.

“Gunpowder,” he said. “The poor creature’s wing must have been struck by a stray bullet.”

Once she’d successfully soothed her white horse, Carewyn likewise jumped off its back. She dashed over to Orion, hitching up the skirt of her mother’s gown as she went.

“Can you hold him?” she asked.

The eagle gave an angry-sounding cry, baring its sharp talons at both of them, and it tried to hobble away back into the air with its one good wing.

“I don’t think he wants our help,” said Orion.

Undaunted, Carewyn ripped off some fabric from her outer-most petticoat. “Well, he needs it, whether he wants it or not. Can you hold him, please?”

Orion looked at the eagle. Rather than try to grab it, he met the eagle’s eyes and tried not to blink. The eagle looked back at him with a piercing gaze. When Orion extended a hand, the eagle lashed out its talons again -- Orion withdrew, but didn’t flinch.

“Steady,” he said gently.

He waited a moment, keeping eye contact with the bird, and then tried again. This time he was able to move close enough to touch before the eagle lashed out with its claws again.

“Peace,” said Orion patiently. “We mean you no harm, feathered friend.”

Another loud explosion in the distance made both the eagle and Orion flinch.

“That one sounded closer,” said Carewyn, her voice faintly tense but as gentle as she could. “We need to be quick.”

The flames of his childhood home were returning to Orion’s mind despite his best efforts, and he shut them out as best he could, closing his eyes and breathing in and out several times. Once he’d reestablished his focus, Orion opened his eyes again.

The eagle looked from Orion to Carewyn almost critically. Finally, after Orion reached in for a third time, it let the Prince run a gentle hand over its back. Once the bird was calm, Orion then carefully extended its wing so that Carewyn could reach it.

“This will likely hurt him a little,” Carewyn told Orion. “Please hold him still, so he won’t fly away.”

Orion brought a hand around the eagle, which fidgeted and cried out indignantly, but did not claw or snap at them. With Orion holding out its wing, Carewyn was able to reach into its blood-soaked feathers and dislodge the bullet. The eagle gave an angry, pained cry, and Carewyn very quickly set about wrapping up the wound with the white fabric she’d ripped out of her petticoat.

“There,” breathed Carewyn, her red lips spreading into a smile. “That should help...”

The bird looked down at its wing, gingerly folding up against its side as it surveyed her with a very beady eye. With a soft click of her tongue against her teeth, she slowly extended an arm out, holding it very still like a branch.

“Climb on,” she cooed. “That’s it...”

The eagle peered Carewyn over, but after a long moment, it gradually scooted over and leapt up onto her arm. Its talons dug into the sleeve of her dress with strength, and it was heavier than Carewyn expected, but she with some difficulty just barely managed to hoist it up.

“Your talent with animals shines through again,” said Orion with a wry smile, clasping his hands lightly in front of him.

“You weren’t half bad yourself,” Carewyn said amusedly. She brought a hand gently along the eagle’s comb. “You’re a very handsome bird, aren’t you? You poor thing...”

“You there!”

Both Orion and Carewyn looked up in great surprise.

Striding through the woods toward them was a very tall middle-aged woman. She wore a black capotain hat and an old-fashioned black dress with a white ruff around the collar, and her graying brown hair was tied up in an austere looking bun under her hat. Despite her apparent age, her step was strong and her posture as straight as a general’s. 

“What are you doing here?” said the woman very sternly.

Carewyn stood a bit uneasily, thanks to the weight of the eagle on her arm, but she nonetheless straightened up, resting a hand on the eagle’s back almost protectively.

“We’re merely out riding, madam,” she said, not impolitely, but still confidently.

The woman peered down at both Orion and Carewyn with an eye almost as critical as the eagle’s had been as she crossed her arms. Her height made it so she towered over both of them with relative ease.

“Well, through your riding, you have trespassed on my land,” she said stiffly. “And it seems you’ve claimed something of mine.”

Her eyes flickered over to the eagle on Carewyn’s arm, taking in the makeshift bandage on its wing. The golden eagle gave a loud shriek -- the woman extended her arm, and it leapt the distance, landing on her arm instead. The older woman did not struggle to hold it up the way Carewyn had.

Carewyn blinked in surprise. “Then...he’s yours?”

“Do you have others, like him?” Orion asked curiously.

The woman peered down at the bird on her arm with a look that was rather like a scolding, but still affectionate mother’s. “No -- he’s one of a kind. All the more reason why I’m pleased to see him safe, after coming so close to the enemy camp.”

The eagle bowed its head, its gaze flickering back over toward Carewyn and Orion. When another cluster of explosions rang out through the air, however, both the bird and Orion straightened up abruptly.

The woman looked northward, and then beckoned Carewyn and Orion after her with her hand.

“Come with me -- with the armies positioned just north of us and a band of Florentine bandits just south, the safest place at present to wait out this skirmish is my home.”

The woman introduced herself as the Baroness Minerva McGonagall. Carewyn felt like the surname was familiar somehow, but she couldn’t quite place it in her memory. Regardless, McGonagall led Carewyn and Orion out through the trees. Only once they crossed the perimeter of the trees and McGonagall gestured toward the valley below did Carewyn and Orion see her country estate. It was odd that they didn’t spot it sooner, for although the valley seemed to cradle the small chateau, it was a rather beautiful and open estate framed by a wrought iron gate. The property itself was made of aged brick and stone with stained glass windows and overgrown with ice-trimmed ivy.

After holding out her arm so that the eagle perched there could jump down on the railing beside the stone stairs that led up to the front door, the Baroness invited Orion and Carewyn inside. As stern as she’d first appeared, she actually was a very kind host -- after Orion and Carewyn’s horses were settled in her stable, she escorted the two into the dining hall, where she served them some rose water and ginger biscuits. Once inside the house, none of them could hear the explosions from the battlefield -- it was as though the walls cancelled out all sounds from outside even though they must’ve been so close.

Seeing that the Baroness had no servants to help her, Carewyn insisted on taking the dishes to the kitchen and washing them, so as to thank the older woman for her hospitality. Despite being reluctant to accept the help at first, McGonagall eventually accepted it, her lips upturned in a rather dewy smile as Carewyn left the dining hall.

“Your riding companion has a very kind heart, Your Highness,” she said, once Carewyn was out of earshot.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.

“...You know me.”

"Naturally,” said McGonagall. “You do very much resemble your grandfather -- and your father as well, I expect.”

“You knew my grandfather?”

“We met once, a very long time ago,” said McGonagall rather curtly. “Your name would also be Cosimo, correct?”

“I am called Orion,” said the Prince, his level voice dusted with the slightest edge. “By both my lady, and otherwise.”

McGonagall’s eyes grew a little smaller. “She comes from the Cromwell family, doesn’t she?”

Orion’s eyes narrowed that little bit more, but he did not reply.

“I suspected it due to her eyes,” said McGonagall, “but with how gentle they were, I wasn’t sure.”

Her eyebrows rose over her narrowed eyes as she leaned forward slightly and rested her elbows on the table.

“You have quite a predicament before you, Orion,” she said dryly, interlacing her fingers beside her chin.

Orion clasped his hands on the table in front of him, considering the Baroness carefully.

“Yet you decided not to approach me about it until Carewyn left the room,” he said levelly. “Is it because you suspected I knew your true identity, and why your house has been so miraculously shielded from the War raging on your doorstep?”

McGonagall peered at Orion over her hands with something like wry amusement. “Florentines are generally more favorable toward magic than Royaumanians. And considering your grandfather shielded my family after my mother accidentally killed the King and we fled across the border...well, it would be in-character for you, especially.”

“And yet you returned to the land that the King of Royaume had died trying to claim?” asked Orion. “Why?”

McGonagall gave a dismissive shrug. “It was our home. Even if we had to cast and recast illusions every day to prevent anyone else from finding it again, that was a cost we were willing to pay. And one I’m still willing to pay today, to protect those who live here.”

McGonagall’s eyes were drawn to the hallway -- a young man with tanned skin and a sharp nose had just paused in the door frame of the dining hall. His arm was in a makeshift sling and wrapped with what looked like bandages made out of petticoat fabric. When Orion turned around, the young man stared him down with just as beady of a look as the golden eagle from before had.

“The skirmish has ended, Baroness,” the man said brusquely.

“I hope you haven’t determined that by casting any more transfiguration spells, my young apprentice,” said McGonagall with a slightly reproachful look.

The apprentice’s nose wrinkled sourly. “No. The explosions have just stopped -- they probably decided it wasn’t worth trying to fire their cannons blindly in the dark.”

“Very well,” said McGonagall. “Orion, you and Carewyn may leave when you wish. Though I would recommend you steer clear of the border. The bandits in these woods are Florentines, so I doubt they will harm you...but I cannot be sure how they would respond to a Royaumanian, especially one related to one of their wealthiest noblemen.”

Orion nodded. “I understand.”

“Make sure you bring her back to the palace safely,” said the apprentice, his eagle-like eyes still rather critical upon Orion. “It’s the least you can do, considering she doesn’t know the extent of the risk she’s taking, interacting with you.”

He swept down the hallway and out of sight, still holding his arm. Orion was a bit surprised that the Baroness’s apprentice knew where Carewyn worked -- but then, he recalled, he’d seen an eagle flying over his and Carewyn’s heads once, while they were walking through the market together, hadn’t he? Might it have been this man then, as well -- as it likely had, every time he’d seen an eagle while crossing the border?

McGonagall looked back at Orion, her expression a bit more solemn. “I understand your rationale behind not telling her of your identity, Orion...but remember -- deception is just like any magical spell. Even the most powerful ones in the world don’t last long.”

Orion bowed his head. “...I know.”

He knew none of this could last. He knew that once Carewyn knew who he was, everything between them would change, whether he wanted it to or not. He did think that Carewyn would understand -- he desperately hoped so -- but even so, it was sad to him, knowing that his happy times with Carewyn were doomed to be so fleeting...

“I just...want to enjoy my time with her as long as I can,” said Orion softly. “However fleeting it might be...even when it is over...at least then I can cherish the memory of those moments forever.”

McGonagall’s face grew a bit gentler, almost sympathetic. "I see...”

Carewyn returned at that moment, wiping her bangs out of her eyes with her arm.

“Orion,” she said, “it looks like the stars have come out.”

Orion looked out the window. The sky was dark with night and shining with stars.

“So they have,” he said with a soft smile. He turned to McGonagall. “Forgive me, Baroness...but might we sit in the valley outside your home for a short while, before we leave?”

McGonagall smiled. “Of course.”

Orion and Carewyn found a grassy spot in the crest of the valley where they could sit and look up at the stars. Upon learning that Carewyn hadn’t ever gone stargazing before, Orion lay back against the grass and pointed out each constellation above them to Carewyn in turn -- the hero Perseus, his enemy the Cetus, and his future wife Andromeda -- -- the divine twins, Castor and Pollux, otherwise known as a pair as Gemini -- and the queen Cassiopeia, which made Carewyn laugh, thinking of her friend, KC. Carewyn loved listening to Orion’s stories: the way he would vividly embellish every detail and go off on philosophical tangents in the middle was oddly endearing. After he told his first tale about Perseus, Carewyn was reminded of the Song of Roland, an epic about a similarly grand hero, and soon Orion would ask her to sing something in response to every story he told, however weak the connection was. When they reached Cassiopeia’s tale, Carewyn sang one of her favorite songs, Greensleeves.

“I have been ready at your hand To grant whatever thou would’st crave; I have waged both life and land, Your love and goodwill for to have.

Greensleeves was all my joy; Greensleeves was my delight; Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but my lady Greensleeves...”

As before, Orion found himself closing his eyes and relishing the feeling of Carewyn’s voice washing over him. At the end of this song in particular, however, when he opened his eyes, he found himself chuckling softly.

Carewyn raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Orion’s black eyes were sparkling like two miniature night skies as they ran over Carewyn sitting just below him. “It’s a lovely song, as always...but I have not ever seen my ‘star twin,’ so to speak, wearing green -- only ever black and blue. You, however...”

He took her hand so that he could extend her arm out like they were dancing, showing off the olive green sleeves of her dress.

“So it seems you are ‘my lady Greensleeves,’” said Orion with a wry smile.

“Oh, stop it,” Carewyn huffed, her cheeks burning as she withdrew her hand.

Orion laughed fully. It was the first time Carewyn had ever heard him laugh so openly before -- it was a soft sound in the back of his throat, like a chuckle, and yet so much brighter and warmer. Despite herself, Carewyn couldn’t fight back a full smile of her own. Her shoulder brushed up against Orion’s as she reclined back onto the grass, her body tilting slightly toward him as she looked up at the sky.

“...There’s a constellation called Orion, isn’t there?”

Orion smiled and traced the stars of the constellation with his finger. “Just there. Do you see his chest? And there’s his bow.”

“I see it!” said Carewyn excitedly. “His arm is arched back, right?”

“Yes -- he’s holding a club in his other hand. He was a great hunter, you see -- the greatest hunter, they say, aside from Artemis, Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt. Some say that he hunted alongside her. Others say she was his one and only love...and that she, likewise, never loved any other man, in all her days.”

When Carewyn didn’t respond, Orion looked down at her. She was considering the constellation very carefully, looking oddly deep in thought.

Orion tilted his head to look better at her face. “Your eyes resemble a dark pool.”

Carewyn looked up, startled.

“They’re so deep and mysterious, I hardly know what is within them,” said Orion. “Yet I would dearly like to know, if you were willing to share their contents.”

Carewyn’s eyes drifted back up to the sky uncomfortably.

“It’s just...I’m realizing that I don’t even know if Orion is your real name,” she murmured. “You said I could call you it...you did not say it was your name.”

Orion’s face became grimmer. His hands clasped over his chest and he too looked back up at the sky.

“...It’s not the name I was born with,” he admitted. “I chose the name myself, when I was young.”

The memory of the older boys at the workhouse shoving him, piling extra work on him, and mockingly bowing whenever he walked by rippled over his mind.

“Clear the floor for the Prince!”

“Why thank you, Prince Cosimo -- you’re too kind!”

“Does the mud add flavor, your Royal Highness?”

“When I was at the workhouse, my name...antagonized the other boys. So, to try to preempt the reactions, I started avoiding telling anyone my name. I would dread anyone ever asking.”

“Like when I asked you?” whispered Carewyn. Even though her eyes were averted, she was clearly very ashamed and upset.

Orion leaned against her slightly, offering her a gentle, reassuring expression. “No, Carewyn. I dreaded it when I had no answer I could give at all. It made me anxious...made me feel like I didn’t know who I was supposed to be...made it difficult for me to interact with much of anyone at all.”

He closed his eyes.

“But...after hearing the tale of the great hunter whose skill put him on the same level as a goddess...I decided that was who I’d be. I’d chase my dreams with just as much single-minded focus -- be just as free and strong of a man, by fighting the monster inside of myself.”

Carewyn looked up at Orion, her eyes rippling with sadness. “The monster inside of yourself?”

“Mm,” said Orion. “Mine is a frenetic beast. It makes it hard for me to think, act, or even breathe, when it’s particularly intense. It makes me question absolutely everything, including myself. It shouts so many things in my ears so loudly that I can’t move or react properly, and I have to break away from everything and everyone, just to silence it. Sometimes it even brings back bad memories that make the experience even worse.”

Carewyn was once again avoiding his eye, but it was largely because she was having trouble keeping her face stoic.

“...It’s terrible, when you feel like you can’t do anything,” she said lowly.

Orion didn’t speak. He wanted her to feel comfortable enough to continue -- after a silence, she finally pressed on.

“When Jacob first went off to War...I felt so helpless. So...alone. And worse...I felt like that’s how I should be. Like I should be alone, and empty, and cold, and in pain, when Jacob was off at War suffering, while I’m stuck here.”

Her eyes darkened.

“There are times when...I think I still should be. Sometimes...well, it’s all the time.”

She closed her eyes, exhaled heavily through her nose, and then looked up at Orion with a firmer expression.

“...But I know I can’t afford to sit around and feel sorry for myself -- not when I need to be strong, for Jacob’s sake. So I don’t.”

Orion’s black eyes softened visibly, rippling with empathy. “No...you certainly don’t.”

He paused. His eyes ran over Carewyn’s face, trailing through her hair hesitantly.

“Carewyn...” he said at last, very softly, “may I...?”

He swallowed.

“...May I rest my head, on top of yours?”

Carewyn’s face broke into a very sweet, tender smile.

“Of course,” she murmured.

Orion shifted over and, very tentatively, leaned back against the grass so that Carewyn’s head rested in the crook of his neck and his cheek rested against the top of her head. He closed his eyes -- she felt so warm...

“I...realize that the beasts inside of us are ours alone to face,” said Orion softly, “but...should you need a hunter to help you beat yours back...I will be here.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes rippled with emotion as she stared up at Orion’s face. Her red lips slowly turned up in a smile that was full of pain, and yet also fuller still of love.

“And I will always help you fight yours,” she whispered. “If you need me...I will fight for you.”

Orion’s expression cleared, losing all tension as a smile pricked at the corners of his lips. He breathed deeply, his heart slowing to a wonderful peaceful beat as he took in the smell of her hair. Carewyn watched his serene, handsome face, and she found herself moving into him that bit more, just to get a better view. For that moment, it felt like the whole world outside wasn’t there -- that the War and the palace and the Cromwell clan and everything she was and wasn’t didn’t even exist...and in that moment, Carewyn realized...

If she was ever truly free, she would want to love the man called Orion with all of her heart.

[kiribaku-queen]

Home [4/10]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader, Kirishima x reader

Fluff, angst, werewolf!au

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: Opinions and comments are always welcomed! I love when you guys share your feelings on the chapter, it makes my day!!! Maybe we can start a conversation in the comments?!?!? Read till the end for another author’s note! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Warning: cursing, unfaithfulness (this bitch)

Summary: Being called the beauty of the clan isn’t as nice as it sounds. The beauty of the clan is supposed to exude confidence, power, and well, beauty. You were quite the opposite, only possessing one of those traits. Yet, the older you got, the more you fit into the role you were given. After your brother and all the boys of age come back from their training period, it was time to find a mate. But who will steal your heart? Is it Bakugou, the rising leader of the pack, or is it Kirishima, the personal guard and the strongest in the pack? [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

“Would you like to join for dinner?”

Kirishima stood still, staring blankly at you. At first, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did he hear that right? You wanted him to have dinner with your family? It wasn’t the first time he stayed for dinner but he definitely wasn’t expecting such a request right when he came back. If anything, if he was invited to dinner, Bakugou was right by his side. But not this time. When  he didn’t say anything, you jogged over to him and tugged on his shirt.

“Please? That would make me feel better. If you’re worried about food, don’t worry! My mom made plenty. Bakugou was supposed to join but he got busy so you can just take his spot!” Ouch. So he was just a replacement? You didn’t want him there. You weren’t even thinking about him. Bakugou isn’t here, but because he just so happened to show up, he took his spot. That realization brought his mood down completely, but he would never let you see that. To you, he would always be your best friend. The one who always brought a smile to your face in any situation. The one who checked up on you even when you told him not to. The one to saved you first the day you guys first met. The one you can always count on to be by your side. And to him? You were the one that took his heart the moment he laid eyes on you. But he would always only be a friend. But when was he ever going to get the chance to be around you like this again? No Bakugou in the way. Just you and him… and your family, but that’s besides the point. Taking advantage of the situation, he agreed and joined you and your family for dinner.

Dinner say fun and uplifting as expected. Having Kirishima around was always a good time. He knew how to make you laugh and always got along with your brother and your parents. All throughout dinner, Sero and Kirishima would tell their stories about training. From running laps up and down a mountain all day to having pushup competitions to gossiping about each other’s love lives. Everything that was coming out of their mouths was so interesting and you wished you had experiences like them. Even when they are telling their crazy, out of this world stories, they were stuffing their faces at the same time. Food flying everything, causing your mom to scold both your brother and your best friend. It really never was a dull time with the ones you loved. Speaking of loved ones, your mind wondered to Bakugou and what he could possibly be doing. Was he arguing with his father? Was he working out of vent his frustrations? Was he talking to Uraraka? Uraraka… you needed to have a talk with her. Maybe it was a misunderstanding? She couldn’t have possibly known you were in a relationship with him. You were spacing out now, all up in your feels and it could be seen on your face. Sero looked at you with worried eyes.

“(y/n) are you okay?” he asked. Your eyes snapped up at his and felt a little guilty. He was trying to tell you guys about his time away. You missed him, as did he. And when he’s finally back, you space out? Now’s not the time to be thinking negative. Sero is here. Enjoy the moment. Enjoy the moment… You shake you head and give your brother a weak smile.

“Sorry, just spaced out for a second. What were you saying?” you quickly tried to steer the conversation away. Sero had his doubts but continued on with that he was saying, reminding himself to bring it up later when everyone was asleep.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the awkwardness, “so I put Denki in a choke hold right? And when I think I’m winning, he just-” Sero continued his story which caused your parents to roll over in laughter. You weren’t that into the story so you just gave a small laugh. You looked over at Kirishima and he was staring right back, giving you the same eyes as Sero did. He was worried about you. He knew you were still thinking about the whole situation with Bakugou. You tried to give a reassuring smile but when it wasn’t convincing, you just had to look away. The emotion in Kiri’s eyes was too deep. You felt like if you continued to stare at him, you would start crying.

After dinner, you escort Kirishima to the door. He looks down at you, again with those sad, worried eyes.

“You gonna be okay by yourself?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I have Sero,” you reassured but Kirishima only frowned in that response. But knowing your stubborn personality, he couldn’t fight you. Plus, he needed to be back by Bakugou’s side as his personal guard. He was gone for a little too long.

“Fine,” he leans in close, his face just inches from yours. Blush rushed to your cheeks. You wanted to back away but his eyes were so mesmerizing. Has Kirishima always been this handsome? “Just remember that I’m one call away. One call and I’ll be here, right by your side. Don’t hesitate, okay? Even when your feel just a tad bit sad, call me. Promise?” He was so serious. Your heart warmed knowing that you have someone by your side who really cares about you.

“Okay, I promise,” you gave a half smile, still staring at his mesmerizing, red eyes. He clicked his tongue, not satisfied with your answer.

“Not so fast,” he stuck his pinky finger out, waiting for your action. “I need to make sure you actually promise. Seal it,” he said. You laughed at his antics. You haven’t done this in a while. You stuck out your pinky finger, linked your pinkies together, and moved so that your thumbs were touching, making it a double pinky promise. Once these promises were made, you can’t back out of a promise.

“I said seal it,” he continued. You look at him confused, cocking your head to the side. All of a sudden, he pulls you in, your pinkies still connected. As if you guys weren’t close enough before, he managed to get even closer. Now he was centimeters from your face… and dangerously close to your lips. “Did you forget already? You need to seal it with a kiss,” he explained which caused you to become really flustered. Your face was beat red and you were at a loss for words. Kirishima burst out laughing seeing your expression. You were so easy to tease. He only half meant those words but that was his attempt in making you feel better and forget about your problems. It sure worked because all you could think about was Kirishima. As Kirishima was coming down from his high, he ruffled your hair and placed his hand on the back of your head.

“I’m kidding. Get some rest and don’t forget about our promise! But I expect a kiss next time!” and with that, he ran off into the distance, turning around once to give you one final last wave.

You closed the door behind you and took a deep breath. Well that was something. You made your way to your room, passing the living room on the way. Sero just so happened to be sitting on the couch, one arm spread out, resting on the back of the couch while the other hand had an ice cream cone.

“Sooooo,” he started to say which halted in your footsteps. “What was that about?”

“I don’t know!” You groaned and continued to your room. Not before Sero jumps up from the couch to follow you and pesters you to no end. It was going to be a long night. 

Accepting the fact that Bakugou was engaged to another woman was hard. Especially when said man insisted on seeing you every day, despite his ‘fiancée’ knowing. You would be at his family’s house from morning to night, Bakugou always by your side. E You would be feeling high on euphoria if only it weren’t for Uraraka watching everything that you do.

To make the marriage work and for Uraraka to rightfully fulfil the role as the alpha’s mate, she must know every nook and cranny of the town. From where everything is in the town to knowing how things run within the elites, she must know it all. Thus, she has followed Bakugou around wherever he goes. She has no shame even following him when he’s with you. This annoys Bakugou to no end. There are times when he’s ready sucker punch her to the next 10 clans, using as much fire power as he can. But he’s trying his fucking hardest to keep his cool because he’s with you. You never liked when he would burst into angry fits so you conditioned him to think before acting. But Uraraka was crossing a very thin line.

You didn’t notice it at first. You were ecstatic to have Bakugou. His smell, his warmth and his embrace… it was everything you remembered and more. He would kiss you more often, even in places where it wasn’t as appropriate. Sometimes he would pin you against a wall in the hallways and kissed you with all the passion in his body. If he was really feeling it, then he would lift your legs so that they were wrapped around his waist. Because it was such a public space, he would be looking around to make sure that no one was coming. Good, because you were on such cloud 9 that you had your eyes closed the entire time.

You didn’t notice it at first. You loved when he showed affection. It could be hand holding, kisses on the forehead, or the ruffle of the hair. You were a sucker for physical touch. Every time he touched or held you, you would simply melt in his arms. His touch comforted you in so many ways. There would be times when you two would be walking around town or within the house and all of a sudden, just hug you from behind, digging his nose in your neck. Or when he would pull you close, placing you in between his muscular arms. These actions were always out of the blue but it just brought a smile to your face. He must have really missed you if he was constantly touching you or getting close to you. But it didn’t matter because you missed him just as much. You will take any chance you can get to be as close as possible to him.

But you didn’t notice anything at first. When he was looking around to make sure no one was coming your way when you guys were making out, he was acting staring right at Uraraka. She was watching and he was making sure of it. When he was randomly giving you affection, he only did that so that Uraraka would see. He was being territorial. He was trying to prove to her that you were his but for some reason, that didn’t sit well with you. It was like he was forcing himself to do these actions to prove a point. The more you started to notice, the more he was looking in her direction. During dinners or during training, you would catch him looking at her. And if you weren’t mistaken, she would also be looking at him. You would look back and forth between them, your chest tightening each time. What was this interaction? What was happening between them when you weren’t there? This has been going on for a while and with each passing day, you started to lose hope. You started to lose hope that Bakugou was still in love with you. And with each passing day, slowly but surely, you two were drifting apart.

He wasn’t asking you to come over anymore. He questioned you when you showed up, unannounced. He wouldn’t hold you like he used to. No more kisses. No more hair ruffles. No more ‘I love you’s’. He would be distracted when you two were together. Need I name more? But enough was enough. The heart break was too much. When Bakugou was out on patrol with Kirishima and a few others, you marched your way to Bakugou’s place, knowing that Uraraka was there, relaxing and not worrying about a thing.

“We need to talk,” you barged in, seeing her shoot up from the couch.

“(y/n)…” she breathed out, clearly surprised by your actions. As she opened her mouth to speak again, you swiftly went to sit across from her, a coffee table separating you.

“Explain to me what your relationship with my boyfriend is,” you demanded, trying hard to hold in your anger. A black mist could be seen starting to form around your body. It was a light mist, barely could be seen, but you knew it was there. When you quirk activates when you’re sad, it only affects you and attacks you. But when your mad, that’s when the black ghost is able to manifest itself onto other people. And right now, you were getting pissed. Uraraka cleared her throat and leaned back in her seat.

“Katsuki is my fiancé,” she explained simply which made your eyebrow twitch. You gawked at her response. How dare she use Bakugou’s first name. Were they really that close? Only you were able to call him that… because he never let anyone call him that.

“Arranged fiancé. The way we feel each other is not going to change so I hope you know where your place lies. Don’t stick your nose in where you’re not wanted,” you warned, glaring daggers at her. But she didn’t flinch.

“I wouldn’t say that just yet,” she says. That caught your attention. She takes a sip of her drink that was in front of her and sets up back on the coffee table. “I may not be wanted yet, but I will do anything in my power to insure that our two packs are successfully joined. And if that means getting in between your relationship, then I’ll do it,” she glares right back at you. You scoff.

“How dare you. Out of everybody, it had to be my boyfriend. I thought we were friends. I helped you when you first came here. We did everything together! And this is how you repay me? Do you not feel any sympathy at all?” Fuck, you could feel yourself starting to tear up. Your throat started to burn from holding it in. You were standing now, emotions overtaking your body. You were so emotional that you had to release that somehow. And sitting was not an option.

“(y/n), I hope you know that you are being very selfish right now. I am doing this for the greater good of our clans! And all you’re concerned about is your feelings?” she, too, stood up furious. At this point, you were both glaring at each other, not saying a word. Honestly, what could you say? She was right. You were being selfish. But was it so wrong that you wanted to be selfish for once? He was your everything. He was always there for you. All you knew was him. Anger continued to build inside of you, this time at a faster rate. Now it was really hard trying to control your quirk. There was one question that you were itching to ask. And if you didn’t ask now, you would never know the truth and it would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Do you… like him?” that question was so hard for you to ask, but you had to do it. To put your mind at ease a little. Sure, she might be doing this their clans but was there an alternative reason?

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. Confident even. “I like Bakugou Katsuki.”

“You bitch…” you breathed. And in that moment, you blinked once and your face and hair was soaked. Uraraka had threw her drink at you. You looked at her in shock to see her eyebrows completely furrowed, her lips curled up into a snarl, eyes turning red.

“Don’t you ever call me that,” she said through her teeth. That was the last straw. Your quirk was fully activated, completely putting you out of the zone. With full force, Black ghost lunged forward towards Uraraka. Quick on her feet, she was already in a fighting position, ready to battle. But right before Black ghost could even touch her, the door slammed open.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!” Bakugou shouted, his voice dooming in his home. You were sure everyone in the clan could hear him, that’s how loud he was. His voice immediately takes you back to reality, Black ghost disappearing within you. Bakugou was stood at the door, fire bursting through his hands. Kirishima was wide eyed behind him. He stomped towards you two and putting himself in between so that another fight doesn’t break out. Immediately, he looks at you but in a way you weren’t expecting. They were filled with so much anger. Like they were directed at you. His canines were showing, expressing how angry he truly was. You backed up a bit, staring back at him.

“Katsu,” you started to say but was quickly shut down by him.

“Explain,” was all he said. His tone was harsh and aggressive. He had never talked to you like that. Even when you were arguing, it never got to that point. But now that is has, it hurt. It hurt so much. He wasn’t he Bakugou you knew anymore. You didn’t answer him. With a single tear running down your cheek, you turned around and stormed out of there.

“(y/n),” Kirishima gently called out to you, trying to grab your arm as you passed by him. But you were too engrossed in anger and sadness that you shoved him off and pushed right past him. You had to get away from there. You needed to go somewhere, but where? It didn’t even matter. Anywhere but here because it hurt all too much.

You were sat at the end of clan territory, which happened to overlook a body of water. Sometimes when you wanted to run away from your problems, you came here. Looking at the waters and hearing the waves crash helped you clear your head. You sighed when you heard the rustling of leaves and a new scent filled your nose.

“How did you find me?” you asked, still looking at the water. The bright, red haired man poked his head out of the bushes and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Its not hard to track down your scent,” he admitted. He got up and took a seat next to you. There was a few minutes of silence, both of you looking out towards the water. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. You just shook your head. Every time you think back to what happened, another part of your heart breaks. The wound was still too fresh.

“What are you doing here. I just want to be alone,” you said, bringing your knees up to your chin, resting them there.

“Being alone is no fun. Besides, I needed to make sure you were safe,” he says, mimicking your actions. If Kirishima was here, then that means Bakugou is still with Uraraka. He was your boyfriend and he’s not the one to check up on you? Pathetic. You sigh, making Kirishima look at you, a frown on his face.

“You’re disappointed,” he says. You look up at him. “You’re disappointed that I’m not Bakugou.” He says indefinitely. Your silence gave him his answer. Silence overcame you guys once again, until he spoke up again.

“You should talk to him,” now that’s not the words you wanted to hear right now. You rolled your eyes and tilted your head to the side so that you didn’t have to look at him. He scoots closer to you to get your attention. You tried so hard to not to pay attention to him but that was difficult because it was Kiri. “C’mon, you know that this isn’t the way to solve anything. You’re better than that. Talking to him now is better than doing it later,” he laid down his wisdom. You rolled your eyes one more time but you knew he was right. Reluctantly, you let him drag you back to Bakugou’s place.

On the way to finding Bakugou to talk, you were still pretty upset. And Kirishima knew that so he tried to make you smile in anyway possible. When he tells you he has an infinite amount of ways to make someone laugh, he wasn’t joking. There were times when you tried so hard to not laugh because you were in a mood, but it would slip out from time to time. As you turned a corner, you spot a sight that had you wide eyed and mouth hung open. You were in so much shock that you couldn’t cry. Kirishima turned the corner right after you and when he saw that made you react that way, he quickly pulled into his chest, his arms engulfing your body to shield your eyes.

“Don’t look,” he whispers lowly against your scalp, his hand protectively holding your body while the other held the back of your head. But it was too late. You already saw them kissing.

A/N: Hi readers! Sorry this was a long one. As I am continuously working at this series throughout the weeks, I am having a hard time on who the reader should up with. I would be really grateful if you guys would let me know who youre rooting for! TeamBaku or TeamKiri?! If votes are split, maybe there might be two endings?? HELP ME DECIDE! Lots of love~ and always, thank you for reading and supporting!

Tagged: @goodpop9 @superblyspeedydragon @tspice283 @marvelobsessedteen @rosetheshapeshifter

[a-rebellious-waffle]

Humans are Wolves

Humans are oddities.

They are complex curiosities, like many-sided puzzles. They have a wide range of reactions to the same events, often depending on mood- they can survive incredible things and die from lesser ones almost on a whim.

Their society is strange in that it is not uniform. It is a mess of many different evolutionary paths. Different cultures will glorify and shame different things- for instance, those that call themselves Germans pride themselves on tolerance.

Their technology is incredible in that it is unusual. They achieved spaceflight long before they found fusion power. Their spaceships evolved from cylinders and cones into angular hexagons and rectangles.

Yet nothing compares to the ecosystem of the Human Marines.

They are an entirely unique evolutionary path that was forged by only the most eccentric of the Humans. The 'biggest' four nations of Earth- Russia, America, Australia, and Canada- seem to have all committed their unique nuances to the Marines. America committed their skill at arms and love of weapons. The Canadians, their insanity under fire and courage in battle. The Russians, their strength of mind and body, and the Australians- their borderline-insanity in everyday life, almost their culture.

They consume mild poisons for sport in 'drinking contests' and push themselves to exhaustion and physical pain in the name of their 'training.'

And this, these barbaric practices, they yield results that surpass anything the mightiest warrior race could do.

These Humans will charge across open fields against Hhrirth invaders and strike them down in teams of four. They will fight on and on and on, pulling stunts like jumping motorbikes in motorized patrols and strikes and parachuting out of spaceplanes to land behind enemy lines in 'hot-drops'.

And yet, as one is struck down and dies? Do they forget him as another casualty like the Shiaja or the Hhrirth and continue?

No.

This is where my main point comes in. Humans are pack animals. Humans are like Wolves. One wolf alone is dangerous, yes, but not a menace upon the worlds. He is little in a large universe. But the strength of the wolf is the pack. Humans in a tight-knit pack are powerful. They are incredible. They are hunters and killers but they are also scholars and wizards.

Humans 'scuttle their dead.' That is, they take their fallen comrades with them. One central tenant of the Marines is to never leave a soldier behind. They remember them.

Once I was on a tour of the warship HSS Martial. In the medical bay, I found four Marines giving last rites to their fallen comrade- a salute each, then being covered with the flag of the Human government. They were all very serious but none of them looked like they were grieving.

"How did he die?" I asked. One of them, a lady with red hair, told me. He had jumped on top of a grenade to save his squad and died when it exploded.

"I take it you would not do the same thing?" I asked rather foolishly. All of them shook their heads.

"He did what any of us would have done. He was just closer than most," one responded.

And this is when I realized how Humans work. They work in packs because they are strongest together. That squad lived because one man died- but that one man alone would not have fought and won the day. This is why Humans can charge across falling bridges and through failing airlocks to save those that they call friends. They know that without others, they are nothing.

They know that the strength of the pack is the Human, but they also know the strength of the Human is the pack.

[ikonislife]

Vanilla.

-Namjoon x female reader

-Short drabble to sooth my raging love for this man

Vanilla is boring. 

That phrase hadn’t entered his mind for as long as he had left his old life behind.

Vanilla is boring. 

No doubt she would’ve thrown a fit if he had said it out loud... But she’s not here and it had been 5 years since their friendship perished. As Namjoon laps at the melting goodness dripping down the tanned skin of his hand, the memories of her suddenly flood his mind with the vigor of the strongest of tsunami. Not that he doesn’t think of her in the slow moments of days, lonely moments of days, but rather he tries his best not to. To think of her is to have a drop of heaven, the very last drop of heaven only to come to the realization that never again will he be able to taste paradise. Namjoon can’t put himself through that, not if he wants to survive this harsh world completely lacks of all the quirks that had made her his sunshine. Strangely enough, the most vibrant memories of her that he had kept in his heart wasn’t a special one. “Some of the most mundane moments in life make for great essays,” she used to say.

 It was just a day like any other, a scorching hot afternoon after physics class when she had dragged him across campus for an ice cream. He had begrudgingly agreed, a bit grumpy but as with everything else in his life that had involved her, he could never say no despite time and time again promising not to. He grumbled and complained, but that had never stopped him from going with whatever shenanigans she had thought up. Deep down, he was secretly glad even that he was worth her effort. 

“Are you serious?” Namjoon remembers himself sassing at her, probably a proud owner of some obscure, experimental flavor the shop owner had conjured up in his sleepless hours, disdainful of her plain cone.

“What? What’s wrong with my vanilla?” She had replied, wide eyes with a mixture of delight, confusion, and stars. 

“Vanilla is like the most boring flavor ever. If you’re gonna drag me across the entire campus in 8000 degree weather, at least get something cool.” 

“It’s ice cream. By definition it is cool.” She had retorted, taking a big chunk of the melting mess of white before wincing at the frost. “Plus, that’s where you’re wrong, my dude” My dude... It was just so strange how endearing that had been, being called “my dude”. Out of all the cute pet names he had for her - bunny, little, sweet, the list goes on - she had given him “my dude” and it was the best nickname anyone had given him. 

“Am I now?. Enlighten me.” He questioned her half out of curiosity and his own amusement, but more importantly, half of Namjoon just really loved teasing her. It was quite adorable really, the way she tried so hard, her excitement in having the pleasure to prove him wrong, showing  the genius with IQ highest in school some profound facts that very fews could understand, let alone appreciate. He’d always quipped back with some insane thing just to see her all riled up. At the end of the day, he often found himself confounded, completely drawn into her sweet philosophy of life. 

“You sure you wanna know?” She bit her lips as if holding herself back awaiting his answer. Namjoon glanced at her, pretending as if her childlike excitement weren’t killing him inside and nodded gently. 

“Okay, you asked!”  She mused matter of factly, “A cone of vanilla is so beyond complicated because it’s so simple. There’s no fussy ingredients to hide behind, nowhere to run. It’s just is. Vanilla ice cream is either the greatest, most satisfying thing you’ve ever had the pleasure of eaten or it’s completely and utterly average, bad even.”

She spoke with such ease to her words and effortlessness in conveying her belief that it wasn’t hard to convince him otherwise. Suddenly the cone of ice cream in his hand didn’t seemed so impressive any longer. 

Thinking back of those days, it was unbelievable how incredibly foolish he had been, idiotic in the way he denied his own heart of its craving for vanilla... for her. Namjoon’s love life was in every way shape and form, complicated, and he told himself he liked it that way. Who would pay for a movie that has no drama, no complicated plot twist or moments that leave them breathless, so exactly in the same way, he seeked love in places perhaps he shouldn’t have been. All the while right beside him, the most perfect girl for him existed without ever asking anything of him. The perfect love story waiting to happen, wasted away with each ticks of the clock.

He had an inkling, called it gut feeling or whatever, but somehow deep down, he always knew she liked him. It was something he never bothered addressing, nor care much at the time to bring it to face the light of day, hell, even a a little bit desperate for it to never surface. He liked her the way she is, the way they were. There was no commitment to tie him down, no string attached, and most importantly, no emotional messes. They understood each other in ways no one else could hope or even dare to. Yet momentarily, in between the soft content sighs and bright smiles, sadness, hopelessness even, flashed so evidently but just as fast as it had ghosted her dainty features, vanished just as fast. 

She was there for him all hours of night and he, for her. Never did she judged him for dragging her along for some insane art show that he himself wasn’t sure he understood. No matter how crazy or how stupid something might be, she’d always just go along with no question asked. And although he pretended sometimes for the sakes of seeing that cute pout, Namjoon never once thought of her likes and dislikes as dumb or crazy as her ex had. He never did like the guy, always felt as if he put her down and shamed her for simply liking something. 

When she had finally rid herself of that parasite, Namjoon was undoubtedly happy she could finally move on, find herself someone worth her time. Yet there was something else, an inexplicable lightness, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders and once more he could breathe. There was a joy, unprecedented happiness, smugness even that once again he could have her all to himself even if their relationship in no way bounded their souls together.

Through heartbreaks and endless cycle of one night stands, he finally understood what that something was. He fell for her. He fell for her but refused to give in because she just wasn’t the type of girl that caught his eyes... Or so he had told himself. As he basks in the crisp sunshine shining over the old campus on an unexpectedly hot autumn afternoon, Namjoon finds himself questioning, wrecking his brain to find the reason why he had denied himself happiness. Perhaps he was just idiotic and young and naive, or perhaps it was the fear that he could forever ruin the perfect friendship they had. And although he told himself it was far too late to be hung up on the past, there was no denying the sadness pouring from his heart every time he scrolls pass her name on his phone. The old contact still there, the picture he had taken of her still so adorable yet no longer could he call her up for absolutely no reason, call her up simply because he misses hearing her voice... 

There was no denying that his life was infinitely better with her to light its days. She had taught him to appreciate the simple things in life, that there was always excitement, even in the most mundane tasks, if only he knows where to look for it. Perhaps she had always knew that one day, he’d leave her and so she taught him as many life lessons as she could, to prepare him for the darks day without her smile to brighten the atmosphere. 

And as he watches her jogging his way, Namjoon was reminded of that very afternoon she had asked him to go for ice cream, same elation on her features and steps hasten as the distant grew close. Perhaps if he plays his card right, once again she can teach him the wisdom gathered in the 5 years they spent apart. Then perhaps one day, she could finally filled the hole he had emptied out the day he decided to leave her behind even if this very second, they’re barely friends. 

“Hey, Joonie!” She said. 

Perhaps there was hope after all. 

[sigmastolen]

hey, y’all.

as you may have surmised from my silence, things haven't been great -- my circumstances haven't changed over the last 6-8 months, i just... i think i got more and more distraught about politics and the world and my life, and less and less able to cope. anyway, none of that has really changed, either, but i guess feeling bad about ghosting here on tumblr has started to outweigh feeling bad about everything else. so! hi.

so what have i been up to lo these many months, instead of tumblr?

listening to so much npr (possibly more npr than is good for my mental health tbh)

listening to so many podcasts, yet falling far behind on many other podcasts

looking at a bunch of job and audition listings and feeling overwhelmed and discouraged

applying to one part-time, seasonal public library aide job, not hearing back for two months, then randomly being asked to interview and panicking about it (will report back)

knitting

tending our food plants: rosemary, basil, tomatoes, strawberries, a small cherimoya future-tree, a tiny pomegranate future-tree, green fig sticks (cuttings from a tree we had to remove -- some of them are flourishing), and of course our venerable dwarf navel orange tree ("dwarf" in this case meaning ~15 feet tall; prone to whitefly and caterpillars)

developing a deeper interest in philip glass (string quartets and piano works especially)

binge-reading the entire archive of mcmansionhell (thanks, brin!)

taking advantage of ducky's misery cuddles bc he couldn’t stop scratching his head and so had to wear the Cone Of Shame

getting involved with a new chamber music endeavor (awesome) an hour away from my home (less awesome)

discovering some gaping holes in my familiarity/experience with the bassoon repertoire

not practicing, oops

doing a sewing project with my mother (chair covers for our dining room; pattern of our own devising)

cleaning all the things

baking (mostly): salted caramel apple pie (several times, at my dad's request), lemon coconut blueberry cake (cake is not my strongest suit, you guys), blueberry lime muffins, mini lime cheesecakes, coconut lime sorbet, berry pie (two, one gluten-free, for two different fourth of july parties), ice creams (several batches of vanilla and one small batch of pistachio rosewater), lemon chocolate-chunk soufflé with vanilla custard sauce

swan-diving back into torchwood so deeply i have had room in my heart for little else, with no indication of coming up for air any time soon (more on that later)

feeling really uncomfortable & undeserving when people are nice to me

crying a lot about everything and nothing

turning thirty

it's been a time, i guess. i hope this is me, back, but i also hope my tumblr time and posting volume will be less than it was before bc things were getting out of hand, frankly. so anyway, hey. how have y'all been?

[elliebearsupreme-blog]

Carter Lake - Green Lantern (Part 1)

Carter Lake was a chubby boy. He had been fat his whole life and, as he stared at himself in the mirror on a cool Autumn morning, he felt glee. He was shirtless, yes, just before a shower, and sweat glistened on the pasty rolls of his ample stomach, but, as he looked upon himself, he didn't feel disgusted. For the first time in a long time, Carter could look at himself for longer than a moment's glance. And as he stared at the stretch marks that decorate his love handles and hanging stomach, he didn't feel shame. He felt pride.

Carter had been going to the gym for what felt like forever. He never felt the progress. Just the burn in his muscles, the tiredness, the embarrassment that came with his jiggling body stumbling through a handful of miles on the treadmill at a snail's pace. He could hardly lift more than the bar itself when he bench pressed, and his knees refused to let him squat more than his own body weight, if that. He wasn't strong in a physical sense, a practical sense, but he was strong mentally. Strong in his heart and could out lift even the strongest man in the world in willpower. Carter was much stronger than most.

He felt happiness well in his heart as he saw progress. The smallest sliver of progress, mind you, but the most progress Carter had seen in his whole life. Each time he looked in the mirror, he saw himself grow bigger, heavier, but now... Well now he looked slim! Fit! A body he could begin to be proud of! To most, Carter looked as large as ever, but he didn't care! Most, and you really must pardon the foul language of Carter's thoughts, but most could quite honestly go fuck themselves as far as he was concerned! Carter was proud of his progress and he felt a small amount of the massive block of shame that weighed on his mind chip away as he looked upon his new, still very much so round, figure.

A massive grin on his face, the boy, hardly passed his sixteenth birthday, flexed in the mirror of the stuffy locker room. Steam surrounded him, as if the Gods of Old smiled at Carter and allowed the world to melt away, surrounding him in a fog that left only his own form in the mirror. His arms were large! Not packed with muscle and they didn't have much definition, of course, but large! He could see as the flesh of his arm drooped ever so slightly less, the top bulging ever so slightly more. He sucked in his gut and puffed his chest out, a laugh escaping his throat.

As Carter stared at himself, his heart pounding with excitement, he could swear a heavenly light descended upon him. It lit his body, making it glow greenish, the steam around him following suit. He felt warmer. Not in a humid, locker room way, but in the way of a cool breezy day, when the clouds part and sun the kisses your flesh for the first time. A comforting warmth, which made you feel like the worst was over and the day could only get better. Then, he felt his heart leap from his chest.

The mirror in front of him began to... well it began to melt! In fact, the entire locker room began to melt! The world around him was no more than an ice-cream cone dropped on the sidewalk. Sure, Carter could feel a little solace in the fact that he himself was the cone, and would be protected from the Sun's rays, but how long would it be before someone came along and stepped on him, dashing him to pieces? And what if the ants came before then? He was destined for agony, either way! And, as he worried of such things, his head whipping around as he looked through the darkness that quickly surrounded him, his new found pride quickly turned to fear.

The darkness shimmered. Yes, that's the correct word, it shimmered. Like the distance shimmers on a hot Summer afternoon. Lights blinked to life, but only for a moment. Hundreds, no thousands, millions even! Tiny little lights blinked on around Carter. So close, yet, as he reached out to touch one, he found they weren't tiny, but simply far away. In that moment, he recognized a line of three, forming the Three Kings. Another set formed the rampaging Taurus. And, as he turned around, he gazed upon the venomous Scorpio. The lights turned off and the darkness faded.

As the black around him disappeared, it was replaced by a litany of color. Each color, however, was tinted with that same green light Carter had seen in the locker room. He was now in what looked like a courtroom. Except, there wasn't one judge. There were 5, all sat upon identical benches. The 5 benches curve together into a small horse shoe, a hose shoe Carter stood in the center of. Upon first glance, the boy could have sworn there was a single Judge, his image reflected 4 times over around him. But, upon further inspection he saw that they were in fact 5 entities. They were, by no means, human.

The judges were small blue beings. Their skin was faded, and not the vibrant shade that the sky wore, closer to a gray than a blue really. Their hair was white, regardless of how old they may be, it was white like an unmarked sheet of paper in a sketch book. Their gender, if they even had a gender, was unknown to Carter, but as he looked at them his human brain assigned them one. Three had jagged hair, which stuck up as if they'd just awoken and hadn't bother to grab a comb. These were men, in Carter's eyes at least. The other two had much nicer, much longer hair. It hung down their backs and had been neatly brushed. These, if you asked Carter, were women. Of course, he didn't truly know and he was far too frightened to ask.

"This is the one?" The left most Judge asks.

"Just a child," The one just right of the center agrees.

"This is the one," The center most Judge says, their voice confident as they gaze down at the still shirtless boy. The others begin to object, shaking their heads, opening their mouths to speak, but the center most Judge speaks first, and the rest remain silent. "Carter Lake, of..." they look down at a slip of paper "E-Arth."

"Earth," Another corrects, though Carter does not see which. "As Jon Stewart was."

"And Hal Jordan before him," Another adds. Their voices strike Carter as quite similar, and, if he weren't looking at five different beings, he would swear it was one having a conversation with them self. Of course, Carter didn't look at all five. He only looked at the center most being, their eyes locked with his own.

"Earth," The center most corrects them self. "My apologies, Carter Lake, and my apologies to my fellow Guardians." They break eye contact, looking to each of their colleagues in turn, nodding as they silently offer an apology. The others nod as well, accepting said apology. Their eyes return to Carter. "Carter Lake," they speak, "we are the Guardians of the Universe and bearers of the rings." A frown comes to Carter's face. He blinks once, twice, and a third time before looking around at the five Judges, or Guardians. They didn't look like the Guardians he knew of. Surely one was supposed to be human, like him. And another a raccoon!

"Not to be confused with the silly story you Earthlings are so fond of," Another of the Guardians adds. "We are real, you see, they are simply a tale."

"We have watched you closely, Carter Lake," The  center most speaks once more, pulling Carter's attention and capturing him in that hypnotizing gaze. "We are quite impressed with you. With your Willpower."

"Wh-who are you?" Carter manages, his voice quiet, weak, and lacking the confidence with which the Guardians speak with.

"We, Carter Lake, are The Guardians. We are the Bearers of the Rings," The center most repeats. "And you are humanity’s protector. You are the newest addition to the Green Lantern Corps."