#she was a threat. active or not. she would have out those kids at risk

[dirtytransmasc]

... she never made an effort... she only ever furthered herself from her siblings... she only made herself look like a threat, having it made clear viserys would always favor her, protecting her lies at the risk of others, after abandoning her mother when she needed her most, and used and lied to her, hurting her more than she already was from Viserys, for her own benefit (not to mention her manipulative father buried those thoughts deep in her mind while she was still a CHILD herself)... she had every reason to "hate" (fear) Rhaenyra and in her attempts to protect her children, extend that fear/hatred to them. even then, outside of Aemond (justifiably, considering she felt entitled to his eye and wanted to have him tortured) none of them even really hated her until the dance, at the very most, they felt resentful because their father loved her 10x more than he loved all 4 (including Daeron) of them combined, and at the very least, they felt nothing as she was never there, never mattered to their lives outside of court and politics.

this take is shit. Rhaenyra never cared. she never wanted her siblings in her life. she felt entitled to Aemond's eye, and you want to tell me she gave a shit, not even enough to spare her 10 year old brother, over an insult?

(and before you bring up her call for her siblings to come bend the knee, we know how she can kiss up and lie through her teeth in times of need, her words hold little backing. see it as truth if you want, but I can't trust it, not with how she's acted previously.)

#stop putting it on the used abused and abandoned women who had no reason to trust Rhaenyra after everything she put her through #to form a relationship between Rhaenyra and her kids #stop blaming her for the fact Rhaenyra wasn't someone she could trust #stop acting like Rhaenyra was some saint that would have wanted a relationship with her siblings because she never tried #she never gave a shit #she was a threat. active or not. she would have out those kids at risk #her or daemon #or some other factor like a betrothal #dear god #those kids had enough reason on their own to not like her #stop blaming alicent for trying to fucking survive #alicent hightower #pro team green #anti team black #anti team black fans #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #daeron targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon

[graceofagodswrath]

Humans Are Feral

Alright, this my first post, and possibly a part one in a series of humans are feral story arcs. As well as being something that I constantly think about and wonder why no one talks about it. Maybe I just haven’t found the specific post.

Have we ever talked about how vicious humans can be? Especially in scenarios where something we care about it threatened? And I mean “bared teeth and snarling” type vicious. Beast mode activated. I’m talking about how we basically turn into animals in certain situations and rely solely on primal instinct.

Take mothers/fathers for example. You ever see a parent react to a situation in which their child was dancing with death? They will risk life and limb for that kid. My dad dove into a pool full speed after my two year old sister fell in the deep end. Clothes and all. Have you ever seen a woman after just giving birth and her mind is just straight hormones? And something happens that she perceives a threat? Someone picks up the newborn without consent, she jumps out of bed after a fucking cesarian to snatch the kid and full on snarl at them? Friend’s aunt did that shit. And don’t get me started on the super strength thing humans can do when someone is in danger and adrenaline kicks in. Then there are the people who will protect some random ass kid. A toddler or small kid with no parent around and suddenly something dangerous is about to happen? People will jump in parent or not.

Imagine:

It was a quiet day in the streets of Kuratz. The market paths usually bustling with people of races only had a small stream of customers bouncing from stall to stall. Tourists or natives of all sorts. Ky’lio, a young Avalanghar, watched from his mia’s stall, long ears swiveling this way and that to pick up on what conversations he could understand.

Then they caught his eye. The strangers you’d never see in such a place. Humans. What looked like a family unit. Ky’lio couldn’t help but lean forward to stare. He recognized the tallest as a male and the slightly shorter one a female, as he had watched some interactions between his mia and her human customers. But those humans were always soldiers or neighboring colonists. These humans were different.

There was a third party. Ky’lio had never seen a human child except for the few pictures shared from other humans. It was notoriously well-known that humans were extremely protective of their younglings, so few were seen away from human colonies. So the small, bouncing creature Ky’lio watched tug on the adult humans’ paws didn’t register as a baby human until he really stared and saw the round features.

It kept trying to dart away from its parents, but the adults held vice-like grips onto the little one’s paws. Until the stopped at a stall, Hadi Midas’s stall selling sweet fruits from the Dolor Jungles. The male let the little human go and the female took hold of the little one’s free paw. But the wild thing tugged and cried out, like a prisoner chained to a wall. It wailed and cried out in its native tongue, no doubt begging for release from its mia’s iron laws. The scene reminded Ky’lio of when he saw Kaloway serpent at a traveling exotic zoo. It too thrashed and screeched in its chains the same way the little human was. Then the female leaned down and whispered something to the child, making it go limp in her paws, hanging like a dead thing. The female only snorted and turned back towards her mate, who was speaking with Hadi Midas.

What happened next would always remain burned into Ky’lio’s memory. The little human twisted strangely and suddenly they yanked themselves from their Mia’s grip. It screeched triumphantly and dashed away. The female yelled and ran after it, but it was no use. The little human was fast and determined. As it ran down the street it neared the alleyway next to the Damik stall. Ky’lio felt the fur along his spine stand up. The alleyway was a known ambush site for younglings separated from their parents. A human child would be a great prize.

As the human youngling ran past the alleyway, a giant Oyiadin stepped out and grabbed the skinny, hairless arm. The little human screamed, a sound that had every fear feeling surging through Ky’lio’s body. Others in the street turned and stared, but none dared do anything. Oyiadins had a reputation for smuggling and trafficking, their muscular stature, claws and jaws full of sharp fangs scared away any possible help. It wasn’t the first time Ky’lio witnessed a kidnapping and helplessly watched as the kidnapped youngling’s parents shrieked in despair and fear, never daring to fight such beasts. So they would lose their child.

But these were humans. And humans were known for strange, impossible feats. That fact still did not prepare the young Avalanghar to witness the female human slam into the giant Oyiadin, tackling the muscular biped to the ground. The male human swooped in and snatched the small human, now crying and clinging to its parent. The female stood atop the giant, snarling like a wild fangher. Her lips were pulled back to reveal small, white teeth that were nowhere near as intimidating as the Oyiadin’s, yet the expression was somehow more fearsome. She growled something in her native tongue, standing menacingly over the Oyiadin that hadn’t tried to stand up. It’s ugly face was strangely empty of menace, it’s six eyes wide and staring at the human it easily dwarfed. Yet the female held no fear, spitting and snarling, her body tensed for a fight. But the Oyiadin offered no challenge. She spat something in her language once more, then turned and walked to her mate and youngling.

“That is why you must not provoke humans.” Ky’lio jumped, turning to see his mia behind him and watching everything. She looked down at him. “They are dangerous and unpredictable. Especially when they’re protective.” She looked up to watch the trio of humans pass by. “Never underestimate their willingness to fight for their own.”

~~~~~~

Kids are one thing. Then there are pets. I have personally felt the willingness to kill if anyone threatened my dog or cat. That pack bonding stuff is no joke. No, I don’t care if you hear me call my cat a fat, no-rent-paying bastard, he’s my fat no-rent-paying bastard. And I won’t just die for him. I will kill you and cut you up in pieces and summon satan to dine with me on them for that fat bastard.

~~~~~~

Imagine:

Galar was a puvarra, and deserved xis comeuppance. But the crew never expected for their human crew mate to be the one to do it.

Oakley was a good crew mate and most of the team had high opinions of him. He did his work, turned in reports on time, socialized and was overall very kind. The crew was grateful that the human was one that presented the better side of his species. However some were not fond of humans. Galar, the Yunagi from the helix system 1-4b, was one of this opinion. Xe was unabashedly cruel to many on the crew, and only got away with it because xe often blackmailed xis victims to not report to the captain. It was irritating how xe knew certain things. But xe’d finally gone too far.

Oakley had a pet aboard the ship. The creature humans called a cat, a furry thing on four legs that was a master at contortion. While the crew had been hesitant about the creature at first, hearing stories about Terran animals, many grew to like it. Oakley’s cat was named Jambo, a black and white pattern on its fur and a long, skinny tail. It would rub against their legs or jump upon counters to watch them at work. Sometimes it would doze off near them. Only Oakley and Jabari, Oakley’s partner in work, had been selected as thrones for the creature to doze upon. Many on the crew came to feel honored when the creature would approach them and rub its cheek against an outstretched appendage, a sign Oakley had explained to be affection and a demand for “pets.” Jambo got many pets.

Then one day, as the crew drew together in the dining area for a meal, Galar chose his hill to die on. Jambo had approached the tables, padding towards Oakley, but stopping as some crew began making chirping and clicking sounds, trying to intice Jambo toward them for pets. Then Galar walked by, the blue finned Yunagi’s eyes landing on Jambo. And before any could do anything, xe pulled back a long leg and kicked the black and white cat. Jambo let out a loud screech.

Then Galar was flying back and Oakley was screaming in his native language. He wailed on Galar, his fist connecting every time. At one point he tried to choke xim. Several crew jumped upon them, pulling the human way from the Yunagi, but the damage was done. Purple bruises were already evident upon the Yunagi’s blue-green hide, scratches and crescent shaped marks on xis neck were leaking dark blue blood. Nothing serious, but enough to rattle everyone.

Oakley didn’t bother staying to explain to the captain. He immediately left to find his cat, as did some of the others. Many could care less if Galar was injured, because the stupid puvarra deserved it. They worried for Jambo. The cat was later found and inspected. Luckily for Jambo, he had some light bruising. Very lucky. Oakley even cried, the clear wetness on his face a strange sight for many.

When asked by the captain why he attacked Galar, Oakley point-blank said it was because he kicked Jambo. And anyone who dared hurt his cat was going to get hurt themselves. He said it so casually the captain blinked several times. While humans were known for their protectiveness of packmates, this aggression was unexpected. They went on to scold Oakley and told him that they would have to write this on his personal report for future jobs. Oakley only nodded, still unswayed. The captain sighed and dismissed him. They knew they probably should have done more for such heinous action. But unbeknownst to others, the captain was also fond of Jambo. They were the only other person Jambo chose to nap on.

~~~~~~

This was written really fast, so I apologize if the writing is a little scrunched and there are mistakes. It physically hurt to write about a cat getting kicked, I wanted to vomit. Ugh. I wanted to go off on a tangent about humans taking on giant beasts for their kids because wouldn’t we? I personally don’t like kids, but I admit that I’d fight a bear for that one-year old that smiled at me in a Walmart checkout line, then offered me her animal cracker. I mean, wtf. I’ll save that for the next post tho.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are deathworlders #humans are insane #humans are crazy #humans are weird #humans are terrifying #humans are fucking feral if you fuck with a cat #I’m serious I would kill for my cat and I have considered it several times #humans are feral series

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Grim Dark Archives: Statement #006 The Children

[Statement taken from [Redacted] on [Redacted: Sensitive data] regarding the Autobots acquisition of three human children. We do not know why or how the Autobots collected the children considering they actively avoid human contact when possible. However, they recently came into aquisition of three human wards and Optimus made it quite clear he will not be giving them up.

The Prime offered many logical and sound reasons as to why he and his team should be made guardians, and unfortunately, since we do not know the situation, command made the decision to allow it. We cannot risk the Autobots losing their wariness of us. Command was willing to sacrifice three civilians for the sake of our long term survival.

It's a [Redacted] situation, but there's not a lot we can do. [REDACTED] was asked to offer any insight he might have regarding why the Autobots gained and interest in the children to begin with. The statement he gave was... unsettling.

Statement begins.]

══════════════════

Three human children huh? I've looked over their files, and I gotta say I agree with your higher ups when it comes to this. There really isn't a lot you can do for those kids. If Prime personally chose them, it means he's got plans. And whenever Prime has plans... let's just say it doesn't end well for whoever is involved. I would know. I... was a close friend to him before the Archives took him away.

No I won't be addressing that little tidbit right now. Just consider it a little lore from your dear agent [REDACTED] alright?

Look, I don't claim to know Prime's mind, but I did know Orion before and after the Archives took him as one of theirs. And based on what these reports are telling me, I think I have a rough understanding of what Optimus is trying to do with them. You said Jack was the first, right? Arcee found him at his place of work and skidded away with him on her alt mode. Strange. She would have normally just bucked a passenger that she didn't like right off.

I think he was an accident. Arcee is still grieving the loss of Cliffjumper. The urge to latch onto another must be quite strong for her right now. I imagine that when Jack hopped on, her instincts clicked with him despite the species difference. He's young, he's not anywhere near as strong as even a newspark, and he willingly came to her even if he did not know it. He checked all the boxes, its no wonder she kept him then.

He is likely in the least danger out of the three when all things are considered. Arcee is incapable of creating a cold forged from him since he is organic, and so she won't threaten the team with her parasitic bonding. Jack will be alright so long as he doesn't anger her. She will guard him with her life and viciously fight to protect him from everything, including himself. She will be toxic, she will gaslight him, and she absolutely will try and pull him away from everyone else in his life. She will want to own him completely in order to begin the process of creating a cold forged from him. Of course this is impossible since he is no Cybertronian, but she will follow her rituals all the same.

I imagine Optimus wants to keep Jack since he ensures Arcee remains a loyal ally without the threat of her nature. Jack will never be physically harmed so long as she is near. Although I would be careful. Maybe give the boy a briefing so that he never mentions another female in Arcee's presence. Femmes are notoriously territorial. I would not put it past Arcee to go and kill any female classmates or even Jack's mentor- mother? Yeah that's the term. Simply put, keep her away from any "competition" and Jack should be fine, well, he won't be mentally fine but being alive is better than being dead I guess.

The one called Miko though? She's got it infinitely worse and I don't think she knows it based on the reports. Her status with the Wreckers is highly concerning. Wreckers are not naturally aggressive toward other species, but they do get bored easily. Perhaps that is the wrong word. They are so strange that even I don't really get them. But basically, when a Wrecker isn't given much to do, they start causing problems. BIG problems mind you. If there isn't a mission or objective to complete, they will create problems to solve and even revolt against their faction just to have something to do. Being trapped on Earth must be its own special kind of torture. I can bet you a hundred shanix that the only reason Bulkhead hasn't lost his fraggin mind and burned down a city is because he's hunting down that rogue Wrecker still.

What's shanix? It's our currency back on Cybertron- Wait, that's beside the point. Quit getting me off track here.

Miko is being used as a distraction to put things lightly. Wreckers like to see how far they can go, constantly testing the limits. Miko's personality and the fact that according to this, she wants to be "Just like Bulkhead" tells me that she's in for a rough ride. She probably won't be augmented or anything like that. It would be way too much effort for Bulkhead to bother. But you can bet that Miko will be thrown into any and all dangerous situations just so that Bulkhead can watch and see if she makes it out alive. He will probably try to play hero too. Wouldn't surprise me in the slightest.

Yeah, that girl is as good as dead. Well, at least if Optimus stops advocating for her life. Keep an eye on her and give her a quick briefing. I wouldn't tell her anything important, the calmer she is, the better things will be for her. However I would recommend combat training for her, or at least some of that Navy SEALS stuff you squishies have going on.

And then there's Rafael...

Honestly, I pity the boy. He's got Prime's direct attention. Rafael understands Bumblebee too. Frag he's honestly better off throwing himself off the nearest cliff. If Prime hasn't started the augments, he sure as pit will soon. I won't sugar coat it a ton since I know you lot are mature. So listen closely when I say that Optimus wants data. He always wants data. That child, Rafael... he has what we call outlier abilities. His mind is just different enough that he can pick up on our EM fields. He isn't actually understanding Bumblebee's words, he's understanding Bumblebee's intents and automatically translating them. A "Vibe check" kind of thing.

What I am getting at is that Rafael is one of the few who could handle Cybertronian data. Prime isn't dumb, he can see that. He's always looking for new optics to add to the Archive. My best guess is that he's going to bring Rafael into the fold, make him one of the Archive so that Optimus can have data regarding humans up and personal. The fact that the boy was given to Bumblebee only confirms that. Rafael is to be Bumblebee's newest gift and Rafael will feed Optimus information on anything and everything as soon as the augments are impanted.

You will know when the augments are done. When you know, don't talk to him. Don't say anything to Rafael. Don't let him SEE anything. Rafael cannot be allowed to know anything as soon as he joins the Archives. Everything he will see is something Optimus will also see. Not to mention Bumblebee... he's an adolescent. He has a desire to mentor a newspark, just like all our kind do at that age. If he has Rafael, he will be sure to guard Rafael and treat him very kindly. The cost is of course, that Rafael will belong to Optimus and Bumblebee in all but spark, or perhaps soul.

The only saving grace for the boy is that he will likely never know. Things that hurt will eventually fade away. His personality will shift, his mind will wander, and one day, he will wake up and not care anymore. The distress will be limited once he is fully one with the Archives. Bumblebee being there is likely also an attempt to keep him calm while the process is being completed.

I wouldn't have put it past Ratchet to have requested human subjects either. Keep a close eye on your young. That medic might try and steal a few now that Optimus has allowed for three to be taken.

══════════════════

[Statement end.

Those kids... I wish I could do something for them, but [REDACTED] has made it quite clear that acting could destroy us. The children keep the Autobots from harming more civilians, and as much as it pains me to say... letting three die is better than having whole cities burn.

We will keep an eye on the children and brief them as best as we can. The science department is going to want Rafael for their own, I'm sure. They can try, but if [REDACTED] is right, any agent they send won't make it out again.

On another note, up until now [REDACTED] had refused to take an alternate mode. But in light of recent events, he settled on a Martini Porsche, a racing model no less. A strange choice, but one that feels fitting for him. He's been opening up more and picking up on Earth lingo left right and center. But considering all he's said about adaptation, I am not inclined to fully buy his laid back persona, especially after his first few months with us where he was shaking like a leaf.

We can only hope these aliens get off our planet sooner rather than later.

Agent Witwicky signing off.

Recording ends.]

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #team prime #optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #arcee #bulkhead #alternate universe #rafael esquivel #jack darby #miko nakadai #the grim dark archives au #[redacted] #agent witwicky #statement recording #bam more grimdark #took me forever but ive finally got my plan in order #enjoy more looooooooooore

[horizon-verizon]

Rhaenys killing smallfolk is so…. Like wtf, and then people be like “Kinslaying is the worst crime there is! She’d be stupid to do it!”, first HOTD never introduces the notion of kinslaying, and killing hundreds of people is a crime too! She is already a criminal for what she did, why stop halfway if you’re going full murderer ? If you’re gonna commit a decapitation worthy offence, then you might as well kill the people who are a legitimate threat to your future great grandchildren and granddaughters themselves.

Them coming out saying that Rhaenys didn’t kill them because it’s not her war…. Lol, it was her war the moment she agreed to betroth her granddaughters to Rhaenyra’s sons. Her family (the little that is left of it) is in legitimate danger and she passed up the opportunity to kill people who WERE ACTIVELY PLANNING ON KILLING HER FAMILY ANYWAYS. (Yes, I know it was mostly Rhaenyra and Daemon but Jace and Luke and Joff would have to go too and Daemon is the father of Rhaena and Baela, the twins have legal claim to the throne, so no ways they letting that slide either).

Yeah, this has been my argument as well. I will never not be angry about this damned episode, esp this scene.

My biggest gripe about this fool of an episode is that if Rhaenys says she doesn't want to "be involved" in "their" war is that in ANY iteration of these events where Baela & Rhaena exist without turning this into a full-fledged AU like sweetestpopcorn's "The Black and the Greens", Rhaenys will ALWAYS be "involved"...

because those girls are DAEMON'S DAUGHTERS and ONE OF THEM LIVES WITH DAEMON AND RHAENYRA!!! And this Rhaenys constantly has said she primarily cares about her own kids and grandchildren, not Viserys, Daemon, or Rhaenyra...so what gives?!

In a world where these strategy-minded people would, you know, think strategy...Rhaenys practically spoon-fed them a public reason to go to war and assume a protective-justice persona!!!

To further paint the blacks as violence mongerers or even just shit-starters, even with those killed being peasants, bc the sheer number of people killed simultaneously who live around you & around your castle who have historically been a part of some Faith-led attacks against the crown (Aenys, Maegor, Rhaena & her brother Aegon--the Poor Fellows) is astronomical. Killing that many smallfolk doesn't pay and rather makes for a larger number of angrier smallfolk with a reason to be angrier than average. You'd think she'd realize that and idk, maybe not kill dozens if not thousands of smallfolk.

Otto will always look to them as possible rivals because of that connection to the person he thinks will likely always contend with him/anyone for power, espe after he includes the younger boys' hostage-taking in his terms in episode 10. Aside from Otto--who had a grip on Alicent's decision-making until it came to Rhaenyra (as if Rhaenyra doesn't come with her kids, who Alicent has accepted the risk of exile or total ruination for 10 years, but I digress).

And Alicent--by the next season's 2 trailers--appears to go back to Otto as a consultant and guide as to how the greens will face the blacks, so we can't argue that she will not escape his influence even with her allowing herself to understand his manipulativeness. She obviously didn't want a war and has tried to stave it off by holding Rhaenys hostage and sending that damned page to Rhaenyra with Otto's terms--that is if she actually sent it--she also sets up a possible war through usurping Rhaenyra in the first place! And Alicent isn't actually fighting against Rhaenyra for the sake of "the realm" but for for her own position as the mother to a possible king/wife of a past king and the lives of her kids.

Even in the book--if you are inclined to believe that she believes this and/or has sincerely taken Otto's fear of Daemon as her own maybe bc similarly to the show he instilled in her that fear of him--Alicent brings up Daemon's supposed bloodthirstiness and inevitable murder of her kids as reason to usurp Rhaenyra ("The Blacks and the Greens"):

As for the kinslaying part, they refused to insert Rhaenyra's lines of that, instead making her grab Otto's pendant and throwing it off the bridge in a much more flaccid version of what she does with Orwyle's chains in the book. Without the context of her giving Aegon that chance to withdraw AND criticizing Orwyle taking the green side and basically going against his own maester code of following traditions and laws, show!Rhaenyra's protests against Otto is more losing the desired cool & careful, wise reservedness that HotD already favors over original "proud" book!Rhaenyra. And I think that it's to give the Dance story this faux measure of "balance" that ozymalek talks about HERE:

People often argue whether HOTD showrunners are biased in favor of Team Black or Team Green. I think the answer to this question can't be encapsulated within the context of "bias", at least not fully. They are biased for both and neither at the same time and it's difficult to explain, but I will try to articulate how I see it. The Dance era in "Fire and Blood" is something that will fundamentally cause the feelings of cognitive dissonance. I think this is why people initially disliked this book when it first came out. It did not provide easy answers, it was written as a historical account, the in-universe historians were clearly biased. People, however, had trouble realizing who the historians are biased for and against. Team Green would have you think that "F&B" is biased against the Greens, because their allegiance as maesters clearly being to Hightowers notwithstanding, they could not evade simple historical facts: that most of the kingdom supported Rhaenyra, that Greens were horrendously misogynistic and that her usurpation was clearly wrong. That's why, approaching it from the "choose your favorite war criminal" point of view, it was difficult for Greens to accept that their preferred side is so cartoonishly evil - obviously bias must have been involved, even though the only pro-Black narrator of F&B is Mushroom, the rest are Greens. The maester's anti-Targaryen bias, however, manages to sneak in and mess with the reader's balance, causing said cognitive dissonance. It's hard to deal with it as a reader, let alone as a showrunner who's trying to adapt a story in which not everything is set in stone. They incorrectly assumed that, because they are constantly forced to question what is happening in the story, the bias is with the underlying idea that there was a correct side. As such, they assumed that all the inconsistencies result from maesters not choosing to view it that way. Ryan Condal repeatedly stated that he does not want watchers to pick sides, while George RR Martin embraces it and even encourages it (and I think that he himself has picked the Blacks). Such is our nature as human beings. So they decided that they have to balance the scales. Because Greens are poorly developed, they added more characterization for them that contradicts their book personas (abused child bride meow meow Alicent who is clueless about the plans that in the books she herself set in motion, for example) while simultaneously taking the characterization AWAY from team Black members. Rhaena and Baela barely have any lines, and though this may be the case of simple racism, it's pretty telling that they ignored the fact that Baela is tomboyish and has short hair. Rheanyra herself is so toned down that she does not resemble her book counterpart in the slightest, making her seem weak, stupid and undecided. Daemon straight up becomes a villain and a wife murderer rather than a throughoutly gray character (book!Rhea Royce unambiguously dies after a hawking accident while Daemon is still fighting in the Stepstones); that's because Team Black was in a desperate need for a corrupting influence in order to balance the scales. But some Greens aren't spared from this treatment either. Otto is made much worse than he was in the books, he straight up pimps out his teenage daughter so that he can elevate House Hightower. While Aegon is also a sex pest in the books, showing him openly rape a lowborn woman was a risky decision (as was the not very subtle implication that he rapes Helaena as well); not to mention that the child fighting pits come from Mushroom, whose entire gimmick is making shit up. So neither side is really spared from being villified and whitewashed, depending on whom we look. The showrunners were fully committed to making choosing sides a confusing process, making the cognitive dissonance of this story to be even stronger. This is why they aren't really biased for or against anyone.

#asoiaf asks to me #hotd characterization #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenys targaryen (aemon's daughter) #rhaenys targaryen's characterization (meleys' rider) #hotd episode 9 #hotd inconsistencies #alicent's characterization #alicent hightower #the greens #hotd #hotd critical #hotd writing #hotd comment

[mickimomo]

Hello 😄💕, back in your inbox with a random thought/question for your Sun and Sky AU: I've seen you think a lot about how Attuma and Namora would deal with being jealous, but what happens if it's because someone from their side (from Talokan) is flirting with their s/o? Would it make any kind of difference considering its not an outsider that's trespassing on their turf?

Tbh, I don't think anyone from Talokan would dare to do such a thing. 😭 Considering that they're both technically the Generals of their people. (I never refer to Namora as a General, but she technically is.) Like. The people of Wakanda don't respect them off the bat... so of course, they would antagonize them and try to pair the Wakandan counterpart with someone of Wakanda to express their spite. In contrast, since Talokan technically won that fight on the sea leopard (there were like 15 wakandans left. 😭), the people of Talokan wouldn't see them as a threat while in Talokan. They'd just be weak land people who had somehow managed to enamor their best warriors.

But let's entertain the idea of someone being crazy enough to flirt with Okoye and Namora.

Okoye × Attuma

Okoye is a beautiful woman, but she has RBF (resting bitch face). So, she's typically attracting the people who wish to see her smile.

The "Smile Beautiful!"s of Talokan, if you will. 💀

Attuma would simply stand beside Okoye and stare at the person flirting with her. It would be one of those intense stares that feel like a laser is trying to burn through your forehead. And if that didn't get the point across, Pakal and his legion of sharks would be unleashed on the idiot who dared to flirt with Okoye.

He wouldn't get handsy because Okoye wouldn't like it, and he wouldn't want the person flirting with her to see how beautiful she looked when aroused.

**But also, because it's kinda tricky in talokan's underwater environment. If it's in one of the grottos- then yeah. Dinner party 2.0 after he beats their ass. 🤣

Kinda like this:

Okoye was sitting quietly at a small table, watching children play and swim around with Pakal while her husband talked to one of his soldiers. The man was happily discussing his time off with the Hammerhead general as he held a newborn baby in his arms.

He was a new father and extremely happy to be home with his family- was all she could gather without activating Griot. Which was really good for someone who was still learning the basics.

She let out a soft sigh as she watched a kid hold on to Pakal's fin as he pulled them around.

How peaceful.

"Hey beautiful."

Okoye blinked at the greeting before looking up to see a man floating over her with a warm grin. "Excuse me?"

"You've been sitting over here frowning. You looked like you needed a reason to smile."

"My reason to smile is currently talking to a soldier."

"Oh?"

"Yes. My husband." She pressed before adding his name. "Attuma."

"Oh." He tilted his head. "I would not leave my wife to sulk by herself."

"I did not leave my wife to sulk."

The man stiffened before looking up to see Attuma.

The General stared holes into the man as he crossed his arms over his chest.

The silence was heavy, and Okoye couldn't help but smile up at her husband.

The man swam away quickly, leaving the couples to themselves.

"I'm surprised you didn't call for Pakal." Okoye snorted softly.

"I would have, if he wasn't entertaining children."

"You're so sweet."

"Mm." He huffed as he hugged her close and looked her over. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine."

"Perhaps making you wear my headdress would get the point across that you're married to me."

"I like watching you scare them off."

Attuma laughed before pressing his forehead to hers carefully, being mindful of her full face rebreather. "So the sky chases off the clouds."

"Mhm."

Oni × Namora

I think Oni would be at a higher risk of getting flirted with than Okoye, only because she's one of those friendly people where their kindness often gets confused with flirting. 💀 So, Namora may occasionally find herself beating suitors off with a spear.

The people flirting with Oni probably weren't sure of her union to Namora since Namora despises PDA and has RBF. Like- Namora couldn't be in a relationship with this kind soul, right?! (Those poor unfortunate souls don't know who Namora is really married to. 💀)

And since she's so nice when people are helping her or trying to teach her things, they can't help but develop a crush of sorts. Then they start giving her gifts, and she thinks they're being nice until they try to take things to the next step of courting by offering her a gown of blessings.

That's typically when Namora would step in and beat them to a pulp and curse them out for attempting to court her wife.

I'd imagine that one of these attempts would result in Oni losing her shit, so now everyone knows Namora married a demon. 💀

How did that go?

Like this:

Namora loved her wife dearly, but so did the people of Talokan.

Namora was revered and feared, but many people doubted that she had actually managed to marry the priestess of Wakanda.

Oni was everything Namora was not.

She was warm and welcoming.

Namora was cold and intimidating.

She was enthusiastic and eager to help.

Whereas, Namora was often indifferent and impatient.

The list was endless, but one thing was very clear.

Oni smiled, and Namora did not.

And for these reasons, there were rumors going around expressing that the pair were just friends who really enjoyed each other's company.

And with that rumor, came many eager suitors.

Oni had politely turned a few down, and several were severely injured by Namora.

But today's attempt had Namora ready to tear off the woman's head as a large crowd of people watched them bicker in front of the sastun.

"She's my wife!" Namora snapped at the woman attempting to give her wife a gown of blessings.

"Liar! She's accepted all of my courting gifts!" The woman shouted back. "You're just mad because I'm trying to court her!"

"BECAUSE SHE'S MARRIED TO ME!"

"Nobody believes you, Namora! Who would marry you!? You're rude, talentless, and you're not even that attractive! You couldn't even get a suitor because you scared them all awa-OOF!"

Everyone turned to see Oni twirling a spear before she slammed the base of her spear into her nose.

"O-Oni!" The woman panicked, sinking down to avoid another blow.

"YOU DARE TO INSULT AMORA!?"

"Please! I-I didn't know-"

"LIAR!"

The priestess' veiled gaze was horrifying to meet as she lifted her spear.

"PLEASE!" The woman wailed and raised her hand in panic. "I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Oni only lowered her spear to swim closer, her aura rivaling the grim reaper's as she drew near.

"I do not want your apologies."

"W-What do you want?"

"Blood."

The woman let out a whimper as Oni pressed the tip of her spear against her throat. "P-Please. S-Spare me. M-Mercy."

"Spare you? Mercy?" Oni mocked her before adding pressure with her spear. "Amora is the kindest, most talented, and beautiful warrior in all of the sea. She has been given the greatest honor of being the spouse of a goddess. WHO ARE YOU TO INSULT HER!?"

The poor woman cowered under the priestess' wrath.

"My wife told you that we are married, and you accused her of lying. Your begging is falling on deaf ears." She spat before she looked at Namora. "She does not deserve to live after insulting you, Amora. It would also be an offense to Bast."

Namora's face was pure purple as she looked at her lover. "..."

"Tell me what you want, and I will do it without hesitation."

Everyone was extremely silent as they watched the feathered warrior.

Even K'uk'ulkan was curious to see how things would play out from his throne.

Namora held out her hand. "I want to go home."

Oni tilted her head before grabbing her hand. "Can I ask why?"

"I wish to do many things to my wife."

"Oh."

The entire area seemed to brighten as Oni giggled and allowed her wife to guide her away.

"Namora married a demon." One person whispered.

"It is fitting."

They all nodded in agreement.

🧚🏾‍♀️ So yeah. Hopefully, that answers your question. 💓 (My extra ass just has to go above and beyond, huh. 🤣) I look forward to your next one. 🥹

#okoye x attuma #attuma x okoye #attoye #okoye #attuma #mickimomo #okoye x attuma fanfic #the sun and the sky au #attuma x okoye fanfic #okottuma #oni daughter of zuri #onimora #oni x namora #namora x oc #namora x oni #namora x oc fanfic #namora of talokan #namora #attuma is so in love #namora is also in love

[nehswritesstuffs]

Baratie: Home to Chefs, Strays, and the Occasional Sword Goblin - Part 7

Still not dead--just running into a couple plot blockers while busy turning another maladjusted Northern lad into an accidental dad. When all is said and done, this is going to be a bridging chapter (so not filler, but also not too plotty), but I figure a reward for your patience is warranted.

First chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

Prior chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

A letter arrives, a snail call is made, and comfort is offered. [3269 words]

Sitting on the balcony outside his bedroom, Sanji read quietly in the warm sun with Asido cuddled into his side. It was a day off for him, so he was spending quality time with his nephew, the boy presently tuckered out after pushing himself hard during training. For not having a directly-altered Lineage Factor, he certainly was unnaturally athletic and capable of learning quickly. Even his little body had limits though and he was now snuggled into his uncle’s side as he slept. Sanji idly scratched at the boy’s scalp, which pulled out a content squeak. He braced the book against his leg as he turned the page one-handed, not wanting to disturb the kid’s nap. Actually, this was nice… admittedly.

Eventually, Sanji’s ears caught the News Coo coming on the wind. When it was in sight and clearly headed towards him, he put the book face-down and waited for the bird to glide his way. It gave him a letter and waited shiftily, not leaving until it got a bit of the crisps Sanji had been munching on. He looked at the handwriting on the front and knew this was something he couldn’t let slide—Reiju had replied to him, after weeks of nothing, despite the inherent risks involved. Opening it carefully, Sanji checked to make sure that Asido was still sleeping before going over his sister’s flowing script.

‘Sanji,

‘Thank you for letting me know you received the azuki in a timely manner. I was not entirely certain who to gift them to, but I’m glad to know I chose well. Beans like the azuki are said to be auspicious and extremely versatile. I hope they only bring good things to the Baratie.

‘I do not know when it is that I can visit, though it is something I would like to do sooner rather than later. Father is planning future campaigns now with Notice as a physical base, monetarily, militarily, and socially. That much is public knowledge and assumption, making me free to write it. What they do not know—details I’m sure you recall so I do not compromise them—is that I am already going through much of the same treatments Mother did; Father is trying to build his Perfect Germa, and now there’s nothing I can even take to ward him off. All my future children will be perfect in his eyes. He has even taken me off active duty for the duration of the treatments and the lack of things to do is… unnerving. I was placed in Mom’s room; you know the one.

‘Please do not tell Zeff of our correspondences—I know how much he distrusts me. That much is something I would not blame him for, as I’m not exactly the center of charming stories. I think every day of what I have done to you, both in the past and now, and I shall likely never stop. If I could hold you in my arms and never let go again, I would. I wish you could have been at the wedding, that I might be at yours one day, and that they would have both been performed out of love. For now, I guess I shall have to learn to live with being pen pals, in a way.

‘Until the next letter,

‘Reiju’

Sanji carefully stuffed the letter back in its envelope before placing it in his book as a bookmark. His blood boiled at the thought of Judge torturing his sister—let alone anyone else—with his Lineage Factor experiments, but to keep her hostage in their mother’s old room while doing so? The threat was unspoken but clear.

One wrong move and she would meet the same fate as Sora did all those years ago.

After taking a deep breath to steady himself, Sanji gently shook Asido awake. “Azuki bean, time to get up.”

“I don’t wanna…” the boy murmured.

“You won’t be able to sleep tonight if you keep going,” he said. Asido rolled out of the chair and flopped onto the balcony floor, making his uncle roll his eyes. “Come on—we can visit with the geezer in the meantime.”

That got Asido perked up and the boy jumped to his feet, seemingly awake in an instant. Sanji shook his head and sighed before following his nephew through his room and over towards Zeff’s.

“Grandpa Zeff! Grandpa Zeff! Uncle Sanji taught me a lot of stuff today!” The boy nearly skipped into the old man’s bedroom, coming to a stop at the foot of his bed. He tilted his head, staring at him. “Why are you back in bed? It’s early.”

“I just feel like it, azuki,” Zeff bristled. He let out a wheezing cough and Sanji paused.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” he frowned. Now that he got a look at him, Zeff was pale, the bags under his eyes more prominent, and the book seemed too heavy for his hands.

“It’s just how I’ve been coughing the past few months.”

“No… that’s how you were coughing when I first dragged Chopper over here,” the younger man said. He checked Zeff’s temperature with a hand to his forehead and hissed—he was hot to the touch. “Shit. I’m getting the fever reducer.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sweating through the sheets you fucking stubborn old coot.” Sanji pulled a bottle from a nearby table and poured two pills from it into his hand before shoving them into Zeff’s along with his water glass. “Take this.”

“Fussing over nothing,” Zeff grumbled. He took the medication, however.

“I’m fussing because I’m not ready to lose my dad just yet,” Sanji replied icily. Zeff looked away—that was probably the only word that Sanji could use that could get him flustered—and muttered something under his breath. “Hmm? What’s that, shit-geezer?”

“I’ll go when I’m good and ready you prissy little eggplant!” Zeff snapped. Sanji rolled his eyes and glanced over at Asido, who was fidgeting nervously.

“You should have seen him when I first rolled back into here,” he scoffed, trying to seem aloof for the boy. “Don’t worry; part of why we’re here is so that the old man gets better.”

“Yeah…?”

“Yeah. Now stay here and make sure he doesn’t move while I get some more of the medicine he was on before.” Sanji ruffled Asido’s hair, ignoring Zeff’s grumbling about how he wasn’t going to take the shit anymore. It was all a bunch of hot air, the younger chef knew, and gave his nephew a wink before heading out into the corridor. It was just his luck that Zoro nearly ran into him by the stairs, causing him to jump in surprise. “Ah, fuck, marimo. Perfect timing.”

“What the fuck do you want?” the swordsman grumbled. “It’s my day off.”

“Yeah, and the old man just took a turn,” he said, motioning back towards the door with a flick of his head. “Go watch him as I grab some medicine. Kid’s in there now.”

“Fuck,” Zoro huffed. “I thought we were watching the kid, not traumatizing him with elder care.”

“Just shut the fuck up and make sure they’re both fine,” Sanji snapped. He quickly descended the stairs and went into the geezer’s office where he was storing the rest of the medicine since it generally stayed cooler than the rest of the ship. Bringing it upstairs, he had to dodge a few of the other cooks before he had Zeff’s room in sight. The geezer was still coughing profusely, while Zoro had collected Asido in his arms so that the boy could hide his face in the moss’s shoulder.

“I don’t need that shit,” Zeff wheezed between coughs. Sanji ignored him and began to pour a spoonful of the lime-green liquid into a spoon.

“Don’t be a fucking pussy,” he scowled. Sanji waited until it seemed like Zeff recovered before jamming the spoon in his mouth without warning; it worked and Zeff took the stuff. “There. Was that so bad?”

“Could’ve been better,” Zeff cringed. “Can’t the reindeer make medicine that tastes decent?”

“You know that if there was a way, he’d’ve found it by now.” Sanji deposited the spoon and medicine both on the nightstand and looked over his shoulder—Zoro wasn’t there and neither was Asido. “Alright, now get some fucking sleep and I’ll come check on you for dinner.”

“I’ll just stay here then, wondering if I should murder Patty and Carne when I see them next.”

“Not only you wouldn’t, but you couldn’t.”

“Just wait until I get better and fucking watch me.”

Sanji simply rolled his eyes.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The thing was: Zeff didn’t really improve, let alone get back to where he was before.

He was still coughing a lot, his heavy wheeze reminding Sanji of how he’d get on particularly rough days, making him glad he was attempting to cut back on the cigarettes. A fever would come and go—sometimes high and sometimes barely there—and he was sweating a lot. Between Sanji, Patty, Carne, and Zoro, someone sat with the old man most of the time, only giving him a reprieve if they were all asleep. After nearly a week Sanji had enough of his yoyoing and left the moss-brain in charge of Zeff while he slipped into his room with the Den Den.

It rang. And rang. And rang.

“Hello!” Ah, it was Chopper’s bright and cheerful voice—the last time Sanji had called, Kureha answered. That had been an… experience to say the least. “Who might I ask is calling?”

“Hey, Chopper, it’s Sanji.”

“Oh, hi Sanji! Ah! There’s your eyebrow! The snail must be slow to copy today. Are you calling to give a report on Zeff’s progress?”

“That’s almost why I’m calling,” he replied. “The old man’s having a relapse; started almost a week ago and although it’s stable, it’s not getting any better.”

“Huh… that’s an interesting development. It should be something we can work with, though. What are his current symptoms?” Sanji told him and the snail nodded along. “Has he stopped any of the rest of his treatment?”

“Not that I’m aware of; even put him back on the original shit you left us with.”

“Then that makes this all the more interesting. It might be a delayed immune response by his specific blood type. Instances are rare, but they’ve only been observed in normally-healthy people under thirty-five.”

“Is the medicine still effective?”

“Yeah—there should be no reason for it to have waned in efficacy. I’m just wondering what could have triggered this response.” Sanji could see the snail’s face scrunch as Chopper pondered the situation—he was always such a professional when he got into Doctor Mode. “Have you been giving him additional fever reducer?”

“Yeah, like you showed me before you left,” Sanji replied. “It seems to work for the fever fine, but he still has his cough, and if the shit wears off then it gets real bad before the next dose kicks in, so I’m technically overlapping.”

“It’s good that he’s responding to that at least. At the amount prescribed, he can’t overdose or find his tolerance messing with it, not for a long while yet.” Chopper went quiet for a moment, the only sound being a shuffling of papers. “Do you think you can keep him under control like that for a bit longer?”

“I can do my best.”

“Excellent; I’m going to be coming over in a couple weeks. Robin and Franky are scheduled to pick me up and the five of us will make the trip together. We can make it a pit stop before we see Usopp, Kaya, and the girls.”

Sanji had to think for a moment. Oh yeah, that’s right, he wasn’t the only one in the crew who had found themselves thrust into parenthood over the past few years. “Hey, uh, Chopper? Can I ask you something?”

“Anything!” Sanji could hear the cheer in the reindeer’s voice, which honestly broke his heart.

“Can you make sure you bring along the right equipment to give a young kid a checkup?”

That piqued Chopper’s interest. “Is Usopp dropping the girls off with you early? I know they’re due for one and that you had offered to take them.”

“No…” Sanji bit his lower lip—there was no going back from this. “There’s a young boy I have here, nearly five, and I don’t know the last time a doctor looked him over. You’re the best there is.”

“I see.” The line went eerily quiet as Chopper contemplated the new information; he honestly preferred when the reindeer blushed and swore at such a compliment. “Can I ask how he came to be under your care?”

“You can, when we’re not speaking over a tappable line.”

“Fair. Is he there now?”

“No, he’s with the moss.”

Another pause.

“Zoro’s there…?”

“Live-in babysitter and geriatric’s companion extraordinaire, that one,” Sanji scoffed. He frowned when Chopper didn’t respond. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing—I just have a lot to prepare for,” the reindeer said.  “You know, Luffy’s going to freak out when he learns about this.”

“No one’s seen Luffy in years—he’s going to freak out about a lot of things, to be fair.” They shared a bit of silence, where Sanji could tell his old crewmate was attempting to not panic. “I cut back because the kid’s around, if it’s any consolation.”

“You did?!” The snail’s face brightened again. “That’s great! How often do you go through a pack now?!”

“I dunno… about a week? Five days?”

“That’s already an improvement!” Chopper marveled. “You used to chainsmoke for months straight; being near a pack a week is impressive!”

“Well, let’s say I have some pint-sized motivation.”

“That’s good! That’s good!” There was another voice in the distance—probably Kureha—and the Den Den cringed. “I’ve got to go! I’ll send you some extra medicine by Coo and I’ll see you in a couple weeks!”

The Den Den clunked off and the imitation of Chopper vanished from the snail’s face. He left a snack for the snail and left his bedroom, heading out into the corridor the same time Zoro was exiting Zeff’s room.

“Patty’s turn,” the swordsman grunted. He caught the look on Sanji’s face and raised an eyebrow. “What’d Chopper say?”

“He’s sending more medicine via Coo, but he’s not coming for a while yet,” Sanji replied. “Apparently this shouldn’t even really be happening… not to the old man, anyhow.”

“We’ll get there.” Zoro awkwardly placed a hand on Sanji’s shoulder. “You know we will.”

“Yeah.” Sanji did not brush Zoro’s hand away, although he did walk out of his grasp, heading over to Asido’s room. He found the boy reading at his desk, legs kicking merrily in the air as he jerkily pulled his pointer finger over the varying speech bubbles, sounding the words out quietly. “Hey, what’cha got there?”

“Oh, just Sora,” the boy replied. He held the tankobon up and beamed. “I don’t have to ask for a lot of help with the words! Isn’t that neat?!”

“It is,” Sanji agreed. “Hey, listen: I just got off the phone with another old crewmate of mine. He’s a doctor and is going to come here to check on Grandpa Zeff. Have you met a doctor before?”

“No. What’s a doctor do?”

“A doctor tries to make sick people healthy, or make sure that healthy people don’t get sick. Have you ever been sick?”

“Nope! That’s when you don’t feel good, right? Like Grandpa Zeff? Is that why your doctor-friend is coming over? So that he can make Grandpa Zeff better?”

“He is, and while he’s here, he’s going to make sure that you and Zoro-oji and I are still doing alright, to check and see if we caught anything.”

“Really…?”

“Really-really; his name’s Chopper, and you’re going to love him. He’s a reindeer.” Sanji watched as his nephew’s eyes grew in wonder and a million questions raced through the boy’s mind. Asido’s mouth couldn’t keep up with his brain and the boy began to stutter, only making vague noises instead of words. “He’s not coming for a few more weeks yet, so don’t get too excited.”

Too excited? The boy was practically bouncing off the fucking walls.

It took a while to get Asido calm again, Sanji only really able to do so with promise of updates on when Chopper was scheduled to arrive. With the boy somewhat placated, his uncle slipped back out into the corridor, only to see that Zoro was still standing there with his arms crossed and leaning against the wall.

“Don’t you have anything else better to do?” Sanji sniped. He closed the door behind him, hopefully shielding Asido from whatever fight was about to happen. “Well…?!”

Zoro did not answer, instead remaining where he stood.

“Your room’s that one, if you were wondering,” the blond sniped. Fuck, of all people, it was the marimo he had to put up with. He made a move to head down the stairs again to start on dinner when Zoro pushed himself off the wall and grabbed Sanji’s hand. Before he could react, Zoro had yanked his arm and pulled him close for a hug. Sanji tried to get away, but the idiot’s grip was too tight.

“Calm down,” Zoro grunted sourly. Okay, so at least he wasn’t completely cracked.

“What the fuck is this about?” Sanji hissed through grit teeth.

“Take a breath,” the swordsman said. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?!”

“That thing where you’re going to keep fussing and stressing until you drop.” Sanji kept struggling, not wanting to use a kick in such tight quarters. “It was shit when we were with the crew and it’s shit now.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, shitty marimo.”

“No, but I can tell you that the kid’s beginning to pick up on your pissy habits,” Zoro warned. “I’m glad he’s not like your shitty-ass family in the emotional department, but this is going to mean you’ll have to watch it.”

“My nephew, mossball, not yours.”

“…that you want me to help you watch, so put a fucking cork in it.”

Sanji sighed and let himself grow limp, resting his forehead against Zoro’s shoulder and allowing his own arms to fall to his sides while the idiot held him up. There was no fucking use in fighting this, so he closed his eyes and breathed in deep through his nose—at least the marimo had showered recently.

“Alright, alright, I’ll try not to stay so fucking wound up, for the kid’s sake if anything.”

“Good.” Zoro gave one final squeeze before he let Sanji go, the blond pushing away from him with his face flushed pink in embarrassment. “I don’t care how weird you are about it: I will get your head out of your ass if you get it stuck again.”

“I’m not that limber; find a better turn of phrase.”

“If I have to put something else up your ass in order for you to calm down, I will.”

Sanji’s face went from pink to red as he almost ran to the staircase. Stupid fucking marimo saying stupid fucking inappropriate things outside his nephew’s door… worse yet, outside Zeff’s door. He did his best to calm himself down the the time he entered the kitchen, though it still felt as though all eyes were on him.

This was exactly the shit he wanted to avoid with Zoro there, and yet it was happening anyhow.

He was gonna kill Usopp.

#One Piece #fan fiction #Blackleg Sanji #Kuroashi Sanji #Aka Ashi no Zeff #Red Leg Zeff #Roronoa Zoro #Asido (OC) #I've been pulled fifteen ways at once in regards to OP fic for about a year now #and sometimes stuff just happens you know #Vinsmoke Sanji #ZoSan #though still in the early stages

[thechangeling]

I remember the minute

This is a fic about my OC Janessa Williams being an enneagram eight. Speaking of eights I wanted to somehow reference Alastair in here so bad but it just wasn't working.

I highly reccomend listening to Eight by Sleeping at past while reading this!

Cw: Mentions of transphobia and ableism, mentions of canon typical violence and murders.

There are some parts of your brain that you never really turn off. Especially if you grew up stuck in in survival mode. It's almost like your brain gets stuck in fight or flight. Like a switch was flipped and it doesn't know how to switch off.

For Janessa this manifested as becoming a bigger threat then those who wanted to hurt her. Growing up as a trans kid in foster care she had to learn to make herself scary. Someone no one would fuck with. She channelled her anger at the world, at her parents where ever they were, at everyone and let it out like a harnessed storm. Like a weapon.

There was no such thing as living only surviving. She desperately wanted friends as a kid but when you were at war, they were a luxury you couldn't afford. And even when she thought she could risk it she usually ended up driving people away. Because people thought she was too weird, she talked too much or obsessed over stupid things. Whatever. Being alone was better.

Or at least that was what she had convinced herself. Deep down Janessa knew that she wanted other things then just surviving. She wished she could experience the world and have fun. Buy fancy pretty clothes and go to parties or travel. But more than anything she wanted to make music. Singing and playing guitar was pretty much the only thing that calmed her mind sometimes. And playing video games.

She had always chosen to play as a female character when no one was looking, for as long as she could remember. And Janessa never really questioned why. And then one day she did.

She chose the name Janessa from one of her favorite video games. Getting people to use it was actually pretty hard though. There were some people in her school or at the doctor's office that did genuinely try. And then some people who just spat in her face. She had always felt this profound despair throughout her entire life. And yeah some of that was dysphoria and the loneliness that came from being bothered by everyone she met, but it was also something else something deeper.

Things just seemed so much harder for her then everyone else. It was like her brain was running on a totally different frequency. It was always either too fast or too slow. She barely graduated high school, but managed to get a music scholarship at a local college. Aging out of the system at 18 meant she could start HRT without parental consent and it wasn't like any of the assholes who fostered her would let her. It was free in Ontario but wait times were still shit though.

In order to get fast tracked you had to pay out of pocket which had led to Nessie doing some slightly less than legal things to make that money. Sometimes when you get backed into a corner you don't have a choice.

Story of her fucking life.

Shit kinda hit the fan after she turned 19 though. She had a hard time showing up for class on time and getting her assignments done. It only got worse as time went on. She just couldn't focus. Her life became less about surviving and more about escaping. Partying, drugs, sex, anything she could do to distract herself was amazing in her book. She threw herself into whatever she could as long as she kept moving.

She got into activism, not so much because she cared about making the world better but because she wanted revenge. It was a place to let loose all her anger at the systems of power that hurt her, at all the people who treated her like trash.

But anger can only sustain you for so long.

And then she became a monster.

Nessie was camped out on her favorite spot in the LA institute, the kitchen counter, drinking blood out of her bisexual coloured plastic starbucks cup when she heard the sound of laughter coming from the hall.

"By the angel! Stop it Dru. You're impossible!"

Janessa knew that voice. She loved that voice.

Thaís.

"No seriously you know I'm right!" She heard another voice say, raspier and more relaxed. It was Drusilla.

The two of them had gone out for dinner for some "bestie time" as Dru put it and Janessa was absolutely not sitting around waiting for Thaís to get back. Nope absolutely not, that would be pathetic.

Nessie hopped down gracefully and made her way to the kitchen door.

"No, look see this is you," Dru said playfully but clearly still trying to make a point. She then flopped dramatically onto a nearby sofa and tossed her head back. Thaís rolled their eyes.

"Oh look at my poor poor neck! All bare and exposed!" She pressed a hand to her chest. "It sure would be a shame if somebody were to...bite me."

"I hate you," Thaís said good naturedly with a giggle.

Janessa felt a strange sinking sensation watching the scene unfold. She knew it was just a stupid joke and it was no big deal. But there was truth in what Dru had said. Thaís thought they were living some twilight-esqe sapphic fairytale. They were a Carmilla obsessed lesbian who had quotes from the book saved and screenshoted on their phone. Except what made things even worse was that Thaís wasn't a helpless lamb. They weren't a mundane, they were a freaking shadowhunter.  And yet still Thaís didn't understand what Janessa really was. What she had done.

And how the hell could they when you never told them dumbass?

She wasn't exactly a relationships person. Mostly on account of the fact getting her to open up was like prying open a rusted lock. And Nessie refused to apologize for it. Being strong was how she kept herself safe. She had only ever been in one other serious relationship besides Thaís.

Her name was Yvonne and she was another sapphic trans woman. Janessa met her in college, back when she was still human. And things were rough but Yvonne made the days seem a little brighter. She was sweet, optimistic and confident, always trying to take care of people. She had so much love to give and Nessie couldn't handle it. The intensitity, the vulnerability. Any of it.

So before she could be hurt or left, Janessa ruined it.

Nessie was now faced with the slightly awkward problem of wondering if she should stay in the kitchen and wait until they left or announce her presence. The decision was made for her when Thaís started making their way towards the kitchen and Nessie flattened herself against the wall on instinct. She didn't need to breath so in most cases she could hide pretty easily.

Fuck. She hated this. Hiding from Thaís like a coward. It wasn't her usual style. Janessa was confrontational as Thaís so wonderfully put it. A nice way of saying aggressive and pushy.

A while back Mari had gotten them all into the enneagram. Basically a way of analyzing your motivations and how you interacted with the world.

Nessie was an eight. The Challenger they called it.

The protector, Kit would say. She was always trying to protect all of them, her friends. Her only real ties to humanity other than Thaìs.

Speaking of, they had started humming while pouring a glass of water. And Nessie recognized it almost immediately.

The song was one of hers.

Janessa grit her teeth and focused on not letting her emotions affect her. She couldn't let herself be weak. More than anything she wanted to let Thaís in. To tell them everything.

But she couldn't. She knew what would happen and Nessie just couldn't fucking let it. She refused to be rejected. She waited until Thaís was gone to wash her empty cup and leave the kitchen. Dru and Thaís were camped out on the couches, still chatting enthusiastically, so she snuck by them and up the stairs in a blur.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she realized that Kit was sitting outside the bedroom he and Ty shared down the hall. He gave her an exhausted smile.

"Hey babes." Nessie took her spot beside Kit and slid down the wall. "What's going on? Did your boy kick you out?"

Kit shook his head. "Nah, nightmares again. I didn't wanna wake him up."

Janessa sighed and draped an arm around his shoulder. She thought about asking if he wanted to talk about it but she knew what the answer would be. Not that she could talk. Nessie was pretty much the same.

"What about you?" Kit asked. She turned her head to face him. "Isn't it kinda early for you to be going to bed?"

"I wasn't," she admitted. "I was.. I was sort of avoiding Thaís."

Kit instantly looked concerned. Janessa turned back ahead to avoid the intensity of his stare.

"Why? What did they do?"

She let out a humourless laugh. "They didn't do anything Kit-Kat. It's my fault. I'm a coward."

Kit scoffed. "Bullshit. You're like the bravest, most badass person I know."

And it stung more then she would like to admit hearing Kit talk about her like that. Like she was some kind of hero. Kit saw her as his protector, as the white knight of the story. But he didn't know any better. He didn't know the truth.

Janessa steeled herself against her emotions. "No I'm not. I'm a murderer."

"And if I tell Thaís, they're gonna hate me."

The silence that fell over them in that moment was excruciating. Nessie really didn't wanna look at Kit but she still forced herself to do it anyway.

He just looked confused. Did he not believe her?

Typical, stubborn Kit.

She chewed on her bottom lip, a habit she developed as a kid when she was punished for fidgeting in more obvious ways. "It's not like I wanted to be you know? In the beginning I wasn't exactly planning on becoming a monster. For the longest time I wanted to be good. I wanted to fight for the people who needed it, people like me who were suffering." Nessie could feel a lump in her throat. She fought past it.

She would not cry. She would not cry.

Kit's expression had shifted from confusion to something else. Disgust? Anger? She couldn't say. But it wasn't good.

Janessa sighed. "I guess i've always been the kinda girl who just gets so lost in the noise. I get caught up in the moment and forget to think, forget to process what I'm actually doing you know? When I was alive, I was always chasing the next big thing, the next party, the next hit, the next cause. I didn't know why, it was before I knew I had ADHD.  I just knew that if I stopped moving I would die.

Kit took a deep shaky breath. Nessie could see tears in his eyes. She kept going anyways.

"And when I died I became a stomach. And I was still chasing that hit. The rush of adrenaline as I chased them through alleyways and the satisfying surge in dopamine when I suck my teeth into them. And I just never stopped to think. Never let myself feel. I just kept moving. And I never looked back at the victims."

Kit looked completely dumbfounded. He shook his head slightly. "But- but why?"

Why? That was s good question. One that she honestly still didn't fully have the answer to. And all the ones that she could come up with weren't good enough. That she was hungry? That she wasn't thinking? Or maybe she was just so angry and broken and tired of hurting that she wanted to make someone else hurt for a change, regardless of whether they actually deserved it.

It was humiliating, knowing that she had just given up like that. But at the time it hadn't seemed that way.

Janessa sighed staring up at the ceiling as if she could find the answer plastered there. "The thing is when you turn, everyone else around you starts to look so damn small. You've become something different, and it's not really like you think your better then them more like you start seeing them as beneath you. You stop seeing them as people instead of food. You start to forget that you used to be one of them."

"So what changed?" Kit's voice sounded rough like sandpaper.

She met his gaze again. She was fully prepared for his rage, his hatred. But Kit just looked sad. And Nessie felt this stupid urge to apologize. But what good would that do? She wasn't even sure she could. She couldn't remember the last time she had apologized for anything.

But she wanted to apologize to Kit. For not being what he wanted, what he needed. And to show him that she meant it.

What had changed?

Janessa sighed and twisted herself, readjusting her knees so she was turned around to fully face him. "Honestly, I realized that I didn't like who I was anymore. I had fought for so fucking long to be who I really was and then I just destroyed her. And I had no excuses, not really. Sure I was in pain but so are a lot of people. It didn't give me the right to hurt anyone." She paused.

"I guess I just decided it was enough. And I know I can't fix it. I can't bring those people back. All I can do now is try to be better. Save lives when I can, help people, protect you." She swallowed. "I get it if you don't wanna see me again but I will always protect you."

Nessie wasn't sure what she was expecting Kit to do, but throwing his arms around her and squeezing her tightly wasn't it. She let out a little gasp of surprise as she felt his body crash into hers.

"Don't ever say that," he murmered into her hair. "I'll always want to see you Nessie."

And that finally broke the dam. The tears that she had been suppressing for so long finally came streaming down her face. Hearing her cry only made Kit hold her tighter. She sobbed into his neck, finally letting the pain of the past 21 years come rushing out.

Kit finally pulled back and looked her dead in the eye, gently wiping the tears from her face. "Listen to me," he murmed. "You are my best friend. It doesn't matter to me what you've done in your past. It's over, and if you need someone to forgive you then I do ok? I forgive you and I love you." He smiled sadly at her. "Until the day I die."

Janessa let out an embarrassing little whine as her heart constricted. She didn't want to think about Kit dying. She knew deep down that one day she would lose him but she could still pretend that wasn't happening. At least for now.

She rubbed her thumb across his cheek. "I will love you forever and ever Kit-Kat."

He rolled his eyes. "Well of course you had to get all competitive about it."

She laughed, carefully wiping her eyes to avoid smearing her eyeliner.

"Listen, I think you should talk to Thaís," said Kit. "I can't promise they won't be mad or freaked out but keeping this a secret is only gonna make you feel like shit. Believe me I know."

Nessie sighed. Kit was right. She couldn't keep hiding this from them. She had to face what she had done and deal with the consequences, whatever they were.

Even if they never talked to her again. She could survive it. She had to.

She could survive anything.

Authors note: Thaís is 18 in all of my fics because I completely forgot they were 16 like and idiot and now I can't change it so 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Tagging: @lavender-scented-rat   @littlx-songbxrd   @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas @tired-vin @phoenix-and-dragon @amchara @wagner-fell @sandersgrey @the-wckd-powers @spooky-drusilla @ellexu

#twp #tsc #janessa is my oc #janessa williams #kit herondale #drusilla blackthorn #thaís pedroso

[rhaenyras]

February 1st, 2021

that's the day i willingly got an abortion. me, personally. not my neighbour, or my best friend or my sister. me. i was 24 years old and very scared, in the southern, most catholic part of italy, though i had been a stern pro-choice activist long before that fateful day.

most people tend to think that we don't exist, that stories of abortion are so far removed and detached from the daily routine and contingencies of a woman's life, that it's something intended for provocative headlines or pro-choice protesters in front of the supreme court only. but that could not be further from the truth, as dozens of thousands of women every year get abortions, in every corner of the world, whether they attend these protests or not.

and double that number of women don't ever even share their own story online or elsewhere because they still live in macro local realities where admitting to having undergone an abortion would permanently mark them as murderers and destitutes. (this is true even where i come from, a country where abortion is generally legal on paper, and yet the procedure comes not without its challenges and obstacles specifically put there by a society that openly disagrees with what the law should guarantee).

i don't even want to imagine what absolute ordeal the women in a country where abortion is ILLEGAL in every sense of the word must face.

actually, yes, i want to imagine that. i have to imagine that. once again, it will be the women with the least financial means to be thrown under the bus because they won't be able to afford birth control and/or interstate travel to get abortion care in a state that hasn't criminalised it already. contrary to popular anti-choice belief, this measure won't discourage women from getting abortions though. this will only put them between a rock and the hard place, thus forcing them to resort to unsavoury possibly life threatening practices that will only further put women's lives at risk. (so much for caring about life HA)

and even those women who will fail at getting abortion care, safe or otherwise, will eventually have to succumb to the psychological and physical torture of unwilling and coerced pregnancy/childbirth.

what part of this sounds like caring about life to you? depraving a woman of her bodily autonomy has NOTHING to do with defending life. subsequently entrusting a live baby to a woman who didn't want to be a parent to begin with, can actively contribute to the establishment of a very toxic household with abusive parent-child dynamics.

it's either this, or the child becomes a case for foster homes and whoever will be merciful enough to take care of them. and i still speak from experience here when i say that the perception of being unwanted, usually, leads kids to very dark places on a psychological level.

i can assure you that NO ONE will thrive under these circumstances, least of all the child, whose life the anti-abortionists claim to have at heart, yet they wash their hands of these very real consequences, unfairly expecting the woman who was denied an abortion to just... evolve maternal instincts out of the blue and create the best possible environment for a child that she didn't even intend to give birth to. yes, if it sounds crazy and unrealistic, it is because it is crazy and unrealistic.

it just sounds like a lose-lose for everyone, except the anti-choice advocators do NOT actually care about life once that this life is actually born. all they care about is reducing the female body to a state of slavery on account of its faculty to harness and accomodate life within itself. they will go to the greatest lengths in order to punish women for having an uterus and not abiding by their usage disclaimers whenever we put it to use.

I'll also add that a woman whose self-determination and bodily autonomy are in jeopardy cannot constitute a serious threat to the patriarchy and the current status quo. I won't go into the details of how this benefits the men (and the occasional not so smart women) who want to criminalise abortion, because it's rather evident.

and I'll conclude by saying that, whenever an insufferable entitled white cis het male will come to you and tell you that today's feminism has become emptied of all meaning and purpose, because the western woman is already liberated and can boast the same claims and rights as the men... tell him to either shut the fuck up and join the fight, or simply not meddle in things he can't even begin to understand and leave the fight to us.

#finally.... i gathered my thoughts and now i put them out there #yesterday i was too heartbroken and scatterbrained for something like that #but today i am ready #it's not all dark tho #the country where i live aka germany has decriminalised a Werbeverbot on abortion care info #and this only yesterday???? on the very day when u.s.a. took a gigantic step back on the matter of women's rights #so yeah. there's still hope #we got the war paint on already #rant.txt #pro-choice #prochoice #roe v wade #abortion #abortion care

[tonkiwork]

Nourish move love workout plans

Start with a sports doctor first if you’re experiencing any pain while walking, but if not, you should be good to start adding some running into the mix. “With the women that I work with - usually fat women over 40 - it’s very common that the doctor will say, ‘Well, you need to lose weight before you start running,’” she says. Getting clearance from your primary care doctor to run is a good idea in theory, Angie says, but can sometimes backfire for fat people. If you experience any pain in your knees, hips, shins, or feet while walking, running will likely exacerbate the issues, Angie says, so first get checked out by a physical therapist or sports medicine specialist. Jill Angie, a running coach, the founder of Not Your Average Runner, and the host of the podcast of the same name, suggests her coaching clients build a base of comfortably walking for two to three miles before any running is introduced. Prior to your first run, take stock of where you are health-wise. “I think that’s a great thing about running: It doesn’t have a prerequisite,” says Jasmine Nesi, co-founder of RUNGRL, a community for Black women distance runners.īefore you hit the streets, the trails, the track, or the treadmill, there are a few things you should keep in mind to ensure you’re staying safe and prepared, mentally and physically. (Of course, those with specific health conditions and disabilities may not be able to partake.) Just a few minutes of running a day substantially reduces the risk of cardiovascular disease, and improves mental health, mood, and sleep quality. From 12-year-old suburban kids trying a new activity to retirees looking for a change of pace, vast populations of people have the ability to lace up a pair of shoes and move their body - and reap the benefits. The beauty of the sport is its relatively low barrier to entry. Nearly two decades later, I’m the stereotypical freak who runs a 5K on holidays and encourages friends to consider an easy jog a few times a week. (Consistency would be the key word.) Despite many threats to quit, over time I noticed improvements to my endurance, speed, and overall mood. An angsty pre-teen who enrolled in my town’s youth track and field program, I was initially unaware of what a running routine might look like in practice. The early days of our love affair were far from blissful, though. Just about 18 years ago, I embarked on what would become the longest relationship of my life - with running.

#Nourish move love workout plans

[squidos-goodies]

SO I WAS THINKING ABOUT LINK’S AWAKENING— *record screech* WOW that got a lot longer than i thought it would so it’s under the cut now

tl;dr what if link’s awakening is actually the wind fish’s attempts to bring legend back from the brink of death and marin is, one way or another, a personification of the healing that he does on koholint so remembering her also becomes remembering that he can survive anything and even heal from it enough to move forward.

okay so idk what most people’s headcanons for why the wind fish yoinked legend are but i always assumed it was because legend had just been STRUCK BY LIGHTNING and was either dying from that or actively drowning. and then i started thinking about how you start with three hearts in link’s awakening and, like every other zelda game, get more hearts, better armor so you take less damage, and just generally grow stronger. while that is basic game design, i also like the narrative idea of the fact that legend is on the brink of death and this world that the wind fish built is half reminder of everything he still wants to do/has to live for (more adventures and falling in love, hopefully) and half metaphysical allegory for his recovery to help his barely-conscious brain keep track of what’s going on. right now i’m thinking that the nightmares are also a legitimate threat to the wind fish, being a creature of dreams and all, so it really does turn out to be a mutually beneficial relationship where they save each other’s lives. under this interpretation, as legend helps save the wind fish and protect mabe village, he’s also strengthening his spirit like those silent realms in skyward sword (his is less murdery because he’s half-dead okay give the kid a break) so by the time he’s gathered all the instruments of the sirens, he’s actually grown and healed and is now ready to wake the wind fish and face the real world.

anyway, this whole lens of looking at LA through made me think of marin as either like the manifestation of legend’s love/sense of adventure/optimism/anything he’s at risk of losing if he gets too jaded or as some persona the wind fish has kicking around (a character it made up? someone else whose life it tried to save but couldn’t so it did the next best thing and let them live on in its dreams? who knows) whose sole purpose at this point is to help heal any strays the wind fish happens to pick up. either way, marin becomes a manifestation/personification of the healing legend needs to do to survive this and her request to remember him is in part also a request to remember that he survived this so he can survive anything. marin becomes a symbol of hope and courage and someone he can think back to in his darkest hour to inspire him to move forward and i liked that interpretation a lot!! (total shocker, i know) and then these drawings were born!!! their goodbye becomes incredibly bittersweet (but more sweet than bitter) as marin fulfills her purpose and legend is now finally strong enough to wake up and return to the real world again. if we go under the first interpretation of what marin is, legend is also waking up with the knowledge that marin will always be with him as long as he never loses that spark of joy (though option two has her living on in his memories and that’s how she exists in the wind fish anyway so she’s still kind of always with him).

anyway that was my needlessly long ramble about link’s awakening headcanons to help explain this art i made. have a lovely whatever-time-it-is-for-you, friends!

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #eh? technically? whatever. link's awakening link has a pink streak in his hair so i count it as LU. fight me. #marin #lu legend #squido draws #digital drawing #squido rambles

[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain, blurb 2

The Promise of Rain (part 2?? technically) 

A/n I was not originally planning a second part for this but some people wanted it and this idea came to me and it works better with the context of ‘The Promise of Rain’ but it can technically be read as a stand alone :))

Anyways this might turn into a small series of kinda connected blurbs that are all kind of canon with each other but aren’t necessarily connected except for the reader’s background (the reader is a very sunshine-y person and knows Kaz bc she’s a runaway princess that he was hired to bring back home but she managed to convince him to let her work for him instead)

--

The night air had left me with a chill that made me want nothing more than to have my covers draped over me as I read. I’m normally more sociable after a job, especially after such a simple and safe ending, but a lot of tonight had left me wanting to be alone. 

Well, not truly alone. The company of my books is always welcomed, but tonight I can’t seem to find much comfort within the pages. After almost every paragraph, I find myself distracted by gusts of wind and thoughts of the heavy, silver clouds that seem to make up tonight. A part of me longs for the rain. I know it’s ridiculous to expect rain each time I desire some sense of comfort, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Especially when the sky so clearly implies it. 

“This must be the fifth time I’ve come here and you’ve been reading.” Kaz’s sudden appearance is almost enough to shake away my lingering somberness. 

I roll my eyes slightly, turning my attention back to the page in front of me. “That observation is just a testament to how often you come in here.” 

His glare is half hearted, a look I’d find endearing if I was less annoyed. “Where else am I going to find a reminder that good people exist in Ketterdam?” 

I think he may have a sixth sense that warns him when I’m treading the line between being annoyed and displeased. Everytime I find myself mad at him in a way that makes me want to avoid him instead of yell at him, Kaz makes some ridiculously heart-melting comment. He steps further into the room. I don’t miss the way he eyes my stretched out legs. Ever since the conversation we had after he woke up after an injury, we’ve fallen into the unmentioned habit of silently inviting the other to stay by moving to make room for them. 

It had started the day after the conversation in which Kaz had admitted that he wanted me to stay with him. He had been sitting on the small couch while discussing the details of a job. Shortly after I walked in he made a point of shifting so that he was clearly on one side of the couch. I didn’t think much about sitting down, but Inej and Jesper exchanged a look. 

Now, though, I keep my legs stretched out on the bed. He eyes my position on the bed, something grim crossing his features. 

“It might rain tonight.” 

He knows me so damn well. I hate it. “I hope so.”

I turn my head, analyzing the way the world seems to be on the cusp of something. I stare at the silver clouds until I feel something hard tap my leg. The tap is firm but not painful. I’m quick to look at Kaz as he lowers his cane. The mention of rain had been a distraction. 

“You distracted me on purpose.” 

“The first rule of the Barrel is to always be prepared.” There’s a slight uptilt to his lips, something I’ve learned to interpret as a sign of teasing. 

How is he so easy to be around one second and so cold the next? I resist a smile. “I’ll take notes.” 

Kaz ignores my passive aggressive tone. His focus seems to be on my legs that have still not moved to offer him a place next to me. “You wear your emotions too openly.” Great, he’s going to make us talk about it. “What reason could you possibly have to be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” It’s a partial truth. 

His expression harshens. “Don’t lie.” 

“I’m not thrilled with you, but I don’t think that’s the same as being mad.” 

Kaz lets out a partial sigh. “No, they’re not the same.” Such an early concession feels like a trap. “With you, the first option is worse.” I don’t have anything to say to that. “Is this because of what I said to Jesper?” 

My posture straightens on instinct. “He wants your validation more than he’d ever admit and I understand that expressing praise isn’t exactly something you do, but would it kill you to not actively insult him?” 

“I didn’t say anything that was wrong. He thinks he’s a gambler but he’s just someone born for losses.” The look I give him must mean something to him, because Kaz is quick to tact on, “That doesn’t make him less valuable of an asset or less relatively dependable.” 

I eye him cautiously, the slightest bit of vulnerability playing at his features. “Don’t look at me like that--and don’t tell me that. Jesper’s the one who could use the occasional reminder from you that you hold him to any regard with positive connotations.” His lips press together like he’s thinking about scolding me for scolding him. “It’s only because I know you care more about Jesper than you’d ever let on.” 

“Jesper’s esteem can handle the blow.” The curtness of his voice is a blow in its own sense. “And he didn’t exactly deserve to be in my good graces after what he did tonight.” 

My sigh is not weighted enough to match Kaz’s newfound fountain of emotion. “We were successful--”

“He left you.” I didn’t know Kaz’s voice was capable of such harshness. “I paired him with you, and he left you--and you almost didn’t make it.” I let the weight of his words take up all the available space in the room, keeping the silence that follows them until some of the heaviness has dissipated. “He could have cost me one of my best people.”

Oh. His harshness, his unwarranted coldness, had been a manifestation of his concern. For me. Guilt knots my stomach. Potential words that may offer Kaz some sort of support raise and die back down in my throat. Kaz turns towards the door. 

“Kaz.” He pauses. There’s a long moment in which I think he won’t turn around, but finally, he does. I tuck my legs beneath me, forcing myself to sit up a little straighter. “I told Jesper to leave because I knew the job would have failed if he had been trapped in that room with me.” I drop my gaze towards the window. “I was right, the job was successful, and I got out in time so it was worth it.”

“You risked your safety?” The harsh facet of his being is making its return in full force. 

“For the job,” I’m careful to keep my words factual, “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Kaz’s jaw locks. “When I said that keeping you near me would ruin you this is what I meant.” 

Is it really this big of a deal? I made it out. “Kaz.”

“This wasn’t my best idea.” His words are leached of anything. “You’re going back home. Tomorrow I’ll arrange the voyage myse--” 

“Kaz Brekker you may get to live your life doing anything you want but you don’t get to control mine.” My chin raises an inch, an instinctual act of subtle rebellion. “I am not going back there, even if I’m technically indebted to you because you didn’t return me to my father but that does not mean I’ll--”

“I’m not trying to control you.” His words are sharp, boarding on a yell. “A job like that one wasn’t worth you.” 

From Kaz, I know those words are heavy. There’s a lot of things I could say to that. I could tell him that I wanted to do something for him. I could say that I appreciate him telling me that. I could even say that in his own way, Kaz giving Jesper a hard time because he left me, is kind of cute in a misguided way. The thing is I think all of these responses will make things worse. 

“Kaz,” I keep my voice as steady as possible, “I’m fine, you’re fine, it all worked out.” Scratching the back of my arm, I exhale gently. “I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.” 

I watch him carefully, there’s a slight slump to his shoulders as he exhales. Is the fight leaving him so easily? He walks further into the room. “You better.” He sits down in the space I provided for him slowly. “If you’re not you’ll have worse things to worry about than anything that can happen to you on a job.” He moves his cane forward easily, tapping my knee in a swift motion. 

I roll my eyes at the mock threat. “They do say that there’s nothing to fear in the Barrel like the Dirtyhands.” 

“Remember that.” Any edge in his voice is forced. I fight against a smile that seems to always want to break across my face whenever I think I see something resembling lightness in Kaz. 

“I don’t think I could forget anything about you.” 

He turns his head slightly. “You should.” 

“Too bad.” 

Kaz leans his back against the wall, untensing slightly. “I think you just like disagreeing with me.” 

There’s no point in lying about it. “Only because when you argue with me you give me this really particular look.” 

“A look?” 

Adding insult to injury, I smile. “Sometimes you look like you’re too focused on being angry, like you’re compensating for something.” 

Kaz lets out a bitter sigh. “Maybe if you were less of a puppy I wouldn’t have to--”

The laugh that escapes is most definitely a mistake. “Did you just call me a puppy?” I don’t give him a chance to reply, laughter taking over again. “I mean this in the least argumentative way possible--but you’re so weird sometimes.” 

He rolls his eyes, tensing. “I’m leaving.”

I stifle the rest of my laughter. “No. I was--I was kidding!” I keep my eyes on Kaz, expecting some type of annoyed glare, but his expression is a lot more weighted than that. Odd. “Kaz?” 

“You need to be more careful.” I understand Kaz’s pause as something he does before saying something outside of his nature. “I’m not asking you this as a Crow or a Dreg.” 

On instinct, my posture straightens. “I promised and I meant it.” 

“Sometimes I wish I could believe in Saints,” his voice has taken off a distant quality, almost fragile, “That way I could believe something existed to help what matters.” 

Oh. “You never fail, even if I didn’t believe in Saints I’d believe in you.” 

“You’re wasting your faith.” The sound of lightning cracking is almost enough to make me jump. The rain finally came. 

I know I’ll never convince him that that’s not true. “I don’t think so, but that’s why it’s called faith.” 

“I have faith in some things.” His expression is far off. 

“Like what?” 

Kaz’s eyes find the window. “People that find meaning in the rain.” 

Something in my chest swells. “You’re like the rain.”

We sit there in silence, watching raindrops glide down the window. “What were you reading?” 

The question has me dropping my gaze to the forgotten book on my lap. “I stole this book from the palace before I left. It was my mom’s favorite, she’s read it so much the spine’s completely cracked and the cover is practically falling off.” 

“Hm…” He mumbles. “Read some, the books read in a palace must be worthwhile.” 

A part of me wants to tell him that elitism has no place in literature, but his request leaves me frozen. I nod once, turning to the first page of the book. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife--” 

“Your upbringing makes sense--” 

“You can’t judge it off the first sentence,” he’s insufferable, “It’s setting up irony, and if you’re going to complain--” 

He lets out a conceding sigh. “I’m listening, I’m not interrupting.” 

I keep my eyes on him for a second longer than I should. “Okay.” Dropping my gaze back to the book, I adjust my grip on the worn paperback, “Good.” 

And then I keep reading. 

--

@theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag 

#six of crows #six of crows x reader #soc #soc imagine #six of crows imagine #six of crows x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone show #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x you #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #imagines #kaz brekker imagine #my works #blurb #x reader #grishaverse #grisha x reader #grisha #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine

[winterpower98]

Come gather round children and let me tell you how Mei became Macaque’s student in my Swap AU

Just like in canon, Mei tries to spend most of her time out of her house, and an activity that she likes in particular, is exploring abandoned buildings.

Which is already a dangerous pastime, what with the risk of falling debris and whatnot, it became even more dangerous when she stumbled upon the Yellow Wind Demon's hideout.

Curiosity won over fear and instead of running away like any sane person would, Mei climbed up to get a better view of what was happening in front of her. Outside of a bird that she finds while climbing, she's completely alone when the YWD is freed by his mink form and regains his true likeness.

At that moment Mei loses her grip on the pipe she was on and falls smack right in the middle of where all the demons were gathered around.

Unknown to her, amongst all those demons there was her friend too, MK. But the moment the kid saw his friend he quickly hid making sure Mei wouldn't see him.

Mei manages to escape, still followed behind by the bird, and ends up in Tang's shop.

Once Mei enters the shop she is completely unaware of the confused looks Tang and the bird are exchanging. Tang is Tripitaka in this AU after all, and the monk spent several centuries with the macaque, so he had no problem recognizing him in his bird form.

As soon as Mei caught her breath she started (loudly) to explain how she ended up in a demon hideout, which caught Tang's attention. The man was bringing the bird who was on Mei's shoulder up until that point outside because "birds don't belong in the shop and it's totally not because I want to have a chat with him on what the hell is going on".

Mei, since her childhood, grew up with stories of how her family was of a dragon clan who fought demons. She wanted to prove her parents that she was worthy of being part of the clan but no matter what she tried, her results were always met with cold stares or disappointed looks from her parents. Fighting demons was her last chance.

But before Tang could get outside, he was quickly shoved back inside the shop by a panicked Sandy. The blue giant explained how going outside was the worst idea at the moment because demons were running around attacking and destroying everything in their path.

Which Mei didn't take as the warning that it was, and instead rushed outside, ready to fight demons bare-handed if she had to, to prove her worth. Of course, the girl running out of the shop and into clear danger sent everyone (bird Mac included) into a panicked frenzy and they all followed after her.

Mei did successfully beat a couple of demons while Tang, Red, and Sandy tried to stop her, mostly Red shouted at her that she was crazy to fight against supernatural beings all on her own. That is until she found herself face to face with the Yellow Wind Demon himself.

Obviously enough, one small girl didn't scare the demon, he barely even noticed her. But the girl's insistence at fighting him quickly run his patience dry.

"If you really want to fight that bad, little pest. Then so be it!"

And with a powerful swing of his sword, the demon sent the dragon flying across the city, to everyone else's horror.

Macaque was too slow to stop the demon attack but that didn't mean he didn't shoot off flying after the girl.

She landed in the garden of her own house with some bruises but thankfully nothing more serious, but it did pique Macaque's interest. This girl was either very lucky or she was tougher than she looks.  So, while the girl was slowly getting up, Macaque shifted back to his true form and approached the human.

"You must be the most stubborn but courageous human I have ever met"

The presence of the demon monkey did get Mei on her guard again but she made no move to actually attack.

Since praise didn't seem to get a reaction out of the girl, Macaque tried instead to tell her how foolish what she just did was, and that was enough for Mei to snap back at the monkey.

The two bickered for a while, Macaque looking completely at ease despite the threats coming from the young dragon, before the monkey stopped her.

"If you really want to prove how strong you are, why don't you go grab a weapon and go back out there? Maybe it will be better than fighting with just your fists"

And with that, the monkey disappeared in the shadows before Mei could say anything.

She didn't want to go fight a random demon just to prove to a random monkey that she could defend herself.

She wanted to fight because she wanted to prove to her family that she could defend what was hers.

She wanted to prove it to the family she left alone with the demons.

With her mind set, Mei runs through her house and into her room to grab a weapon she hoped could help her: The Jade Lance.

The lance was given to her by her parents when she turned 18, thinking that giving it to her would force Mei to behave and act upon her responsibility. The lance never got out of Mei's room, she never took it with her. She didn't want to have it, she wanted to earn it, and so she never touched it.

Well, no time like the present right?

Back in the city, Tang, Sandy, and Red were not having the best of times. Red and Sandy had enough strength to keep the demons at bay but they were slowly growing tired, while Tang was both praying and throwing insults at the macaque hoping he would show up to help them.

The monk's prayers were answered in the form of a green blur getting rid of the demons surrounding them.

When the glow faded, in its place stood Mei riding her motorcycle, green lance in hand, and a look that screamed bloody murder.

It didn't take her too long to smash her way back to the Yellow Wind Demon and challenge him to a fight again.

The demon accepted, this time with all intent on killing the small mortal, but his sword was stopped by the Jade Lance.

With the dragon power coiling around her, Mei had no trouble beating the demon back until he was forced to retreat.

Her victory was met with a bone-crushing hug by Red, with Tang and Sandy quickly joining in.

But the celebration was cut short when a dark-furred Monkey appeared proclaiming Mei as his new student.

Masterpost

#lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid au #monkie kid #monkie kid au #swap au #monkie kid swap au #mei #long xiaojiao #macaque #six eared macaque #yellow wind demon #tang #mr tang #redson #red son #doodles #digital art #sai #winterpower98

[restlessfandoming]

"you, my enemy" (chilumi oneshot)

Lumine must assassinate the cruel king of Snezhnaya, Ajax.

//

i could see this being turned into a full fledged fic? but for now, here is the dollar store version LOL

[Masterlist] [AO3 Link]

"you, my enemy"

“I want you to kill the king of Snezhnaya.”

Lumine’s eyes flickered to her client. “King Ajax?”

“There is only one, is there not?” the hooded man responded.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You must have the wrong person,” she said. “I do run-of-the-mill jobs. I don’t murder kings.”

“I was told you were the only mercenary who could do it.”

Lumine slid out of the bar booth. “Find someone else who is insane enough to do that. I value my life.”

The man’s arm shot out, grabbing Lumine by the wrist. She would have sliced it clean off, had the man not taken off his hood.

He had an unmistakable hue of scarlet red hair, with equally fiery eyes to match.

“You’re Diluc,” Lumine said. “The son of the slain King Ragvindr.” It’s never a good idea to get involved with royals.

His face wavered at the mention of his father. “And who was the one who murdered him?”

“King Ajax,” she answered. “That sounds like your own quest for vengeance. Not mine.”

Diluc pulled her closer. “Magic,” he whispered.

Lumine’s blood ran cold. “Magic?” she echoed hollowly.

“I’ve been trying to find the right person to do this for a long time,” he told her. “I had to do my research.”

“What does magic have to do with this?” Lumine asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“You use magic,” Diluc stated. “That’s how you’ve completed every single one of your assignments perfectly.”

Magic had been banished long ago, a witch hunt massacring any and all magic users within the land of Teyvat. Each of the seven kingdoms had decreed it, agreeing that those with magic were too powerful—a threat to the people, all people.

Ever since, the rare few born with magical powers were forced to hide away their abilities for survival. I thought Aether and I hid it well enough.

“You do this, I won’t report you to the authorities,” Diluc continued.

“What about you?” Lumine hissed. “You’re supposed to be dead with the rest of your family.” She shook off his grip. “If I report you to King Ajax, there’s no doubt I’d get a hefty reward, more than you could ever give me for murdering him.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line. “If there’s any suspicion of a magic user, what sort of action do the authorities take?”

You’re killed on the spot—no questions asked. The kingdoms didn’t want to run any risk of magic users rising up, no matter how small of a threat.

“We would be executed at the same time,” Diluc said lowly.

Shit.

Lumine sat back down in the booth, sinking into the seat, gnawing on the side of her cheek. Then, she took a deep breath in.

“You’ll give me every single piece of Mora you have,” she demanded.

Diluc’s face visibly relaxed. “Of course.” He crossed his arms. “The hidden vaults of my family are all yours: every single jewel, Mora, artifact—when you complete the job.”

Lumine’s mouth nearly watered at the prospect of all the riches.

No, she wasn’t greedy. That amount of Mora meant she and her twin brother Aether could retire from this life, this life of scraping by with the money they made from bloody bounties and assassinations. It was the only job they could do, being abandoned as children, having to learn to fend for themselves.

This one job meant she and Aether could have quiet peace until the end of their days.

She held out her hand to Diluc.

“You have a deal.”

* * *

When Lumine arrives in Snezhnaya, she expects impoverished villages, famished citizens, and cold, desecrated lands—all while this merciless, vile king sat on his throne of bones and riches.

However, what she finds are bustling streets of business and cheerful citizens. Children played freely on the streets. The kingdom was thriving.

Is this king truly as evil as the stories say?

It hadn’t been long since King Ajax had begun his crusade of conquering the entirety of Teyvat. It had started with his brutal assassination of his own ruler at the time, the slaying of the late Tsaritsa, quickly followed by his claim to the throne. Then, he had taken over the small country of Mondstadt, and Liyue fell shortly after.

Any who opposed him would face the sharp end of a blade. The stories of him on the battlefield were whispers of blood soaked garments and a wicked smile as he slaughtered soldier after soldier with no remorse.

The image of this bloodthirsty monster faded as Lumine watched these citizens move around care free, as if they were unaware of the atrocities laying under their feet committed by their dear King Ajax.

Glancing up, she could see the distant looming monument, the grandiose castle of the king, looking over the land with a watchful stone eye.

She listened intently to the conversations around her, seeking any information about this Ajax, about how to get close enough to do her job.

She always wanted the most covert way, and now even more so. This was very much her highest profile case, and if she wasn’t careful, she could potentially start wars, with her murder being the first blood.

Perhaps the best way was to become some nondescript maid, someone’s whose presence and subsequent disappearance wouldn’t be questioned by any of the king’s allies. Perhaps as a chef? She could easily poison his food and silently slip away.

How she wished Aether was here with her. He was much more a strategist than she. Unfortunately, he had taken on a different job, far away in Inazuma. They would not see each other until both of their assignments were completed.

Lumine sighed, moving down the street, in search of a bar. Drunk bastards were always the best source of information: they didn’t know how to shut their mouths. In a bar, there were no figures too suspicious, and if there were, they would quickly be forgotten within a few pints of ale.

She pushed past vendors, until she was stopped by a brunette woman in a lavender robe.

“You are not from here,” she said with a breathy smile.

Singled out already? “I’ve only just recently moved here,” Lumine lied.

“Oh? For what reasons?” the woman pressed, her long eyelashes batting as she assessed Lumine head to toe. “Work?”

“No.” What was this woman’s motive? “I’ve heard Snezhnaya is a great country to live in.”

A content, pitched sigh. “Well, since you’ve just moved here, why don’t you come work for me? Outsiders earn a pretty penny.”

Lumine stared at her. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled. “I am Ying’er. I’m in charge of a local performance troupe.” She stepped closer, and Lumine could smell her flowery perfume. “I would love to have you join us.”

“No, thank you,” Lumine told her, inching away. Sounds like a cheap cover for a brothel. “I’m not in need of a job right now.”

Ying’er pouted, but stepped back. “Alright then, sweetie.” She leaned on the doorway of her shop. “I’ll be right here if you decide to come back,” she finished with a wink.

Lumine gave a curt nod before slinking away, back to her search for a bar. She pulled the hood of her cape over her head, sticking to the shadowed walls on her walk. Do I really stick out that much here?

In the distance, she heard the subtle pounding of a drum, and watched, astonished, as the crowded streets parted straight down the middle. An eerie silence filled the previously buzzing plaza. Something was coming.

All the citizens had their heads bowed—Lumine quickly followed suit.

The booming of the drums came closer, and she heard the thunderous marching of armored boots layered into the sound. She glanced up.

There was an entourage of armored soldiers, an assortment of glistening weapons at their sides, escorting a decorated golden carriage.

King Ajax.

What was this? Was there some sort of special occasion taking place?

Much easier to find than expected.

The carriage rolled past. Lumine strained to look at the window while still keeping her head bowed.

Unfortunately, the window was curtained, a velvety red cloth obscuring any view of the king. Lumine wrinkled her nose in disappointment; she had wanted to see what she was up against.

The terrifying rumors of King Ajax never told of what he looked like. Lumine imagined a beastly figure, one with dark shaggy hair and sharp teeth, bones all jutting out in the wrong directions, filleted with raw scars all over.

The carriage continued to move past.

Could she do it? Could she use her magic to take him out right now? There certainly was a large number of people around, and all of them would be suspects; all the easier for her to get away.

However, the guards could easily murder everyone in the plaza if a perpetrator wasn’t found. And, as Ying’er so blatantly pointed out, Lumine didn’t exactly fit in with the Snezhayan citizens.

She would just have to wait. Wait for a better opportunity. Wait to learn more about King Ajax. Wait to plan the best way to kill him.

There was a rustle of murmurs as the citizens returned to their activities, the royal carriage and its guards wheeling out of sight—the air more tense than before.

Taking in a deep breath, she resumed her search.

I need a drink.

* * *

Lumine sat in the corner booth as always, the seat in the bar that could overlook the entire establishment, the place where she could easily see who entered and exited the building.

She sipped at her mug of ale: not enough to become inebriated, but just enough to take some of her stress away. She still listened intently for any utterances about King Ajax.

She kept her eye on a man who was chugging pint after pint of alcohol, complaining about his job, his kids, his wife.

Maybe he’ll complain about his king as well.

“God, I miss Mondstadt,” the man sighed.

Lumine raised a brow. Someone from the conquered land of Mondstadt? He should definitely harbor some resentment for King Ajax.

“Careful there,” the bartender muttered. “The king will have your tongue if you speak ill of him.”

The drunkard scoffed. “The king ain’t here, is he? Too busy with his parties and parades to ever come to a hole-in-the-wall bar.”

The bartender shrugged, silently wiping a glass.

“C’mon,” the man continued. “You don’t think it’s weird how he always invites those performers to the castle? What a dramatic man.” A hiccup. “You think he beds all of them?”

“Probably. Lots of women would want to sleep with the king”

“See, King Ragvindr never did things like that.” He laid his head on the counter. “A modest man. Genuinely cared about his people.”

“King Ajax cares for us. He provides—he’s made Snezhnaya wealthier than ever.”

“Hmph. Is that why he murders people in cold blood? Remember that man that got executed in the street for not bowing to him?”

“Just listen to him, and you’ll be fine.”

Lumine slid out of her booth, making her way to the exit, to a certain brunette woman with a lavender robe.

He likes performers.

A plan started to bubble in her mind as she walked the streets to Ying’er’s shop.

She would slip into the castle with the performance troupe. She would feign illness, seemingly leaving early, when in actuality, she would hide until all the guests had left. King Ajax would retire for the night, alone—and that’s when she would strike.

Lumine smiled, just a bit, confidence coming to her now that she knew what to do.

Her and Aether’s life of freedom felt like a breath away.

* * *

“You’ve certainly improved quite a lot,” Ying’er said, sauntering into Lumine’s quarters.

Lumine set her lyre down. “Guess I’m a quick learner.”

It had been a few weeks since Lumine had arrived in Snezhnaya, and became one of Ying’er performers. She had decided to learn an instrument—the lyre—while staying with Ying’er and the rest of the performers at the hostess’ establishment. She preferred it over becoming a poet or dancer.

Ying’er was right: many people came to watch Lumine sit prettily on stage and play her lyre—her face painted with make-up, and her body adorned with beautiful robes and gowns.

All the while, Lumine anxiously awaited the king’s invitation to their performance troupe. He had invited different groups all over town, though not Ying’er’s yet.

Was this plan a failure? Where was that damned man’s invitation—

“Is that what I think it is?” Lumine asked, eyeing the embellished envelope in her boss’ hand.

Ying’er hummed in affirmation. “The king has finally invited our group to perform at a party tonight.”

Finally. “What an honor,” Lumine said with a smile.

“Very much so.” Ying’er put her hand under Lumine’s chin, examining her face. “Yes...I will have you dressed in our best garments and make-up.”

The woman smiled. “After all, you are our pretty little star.”

* * *

The carriage ride to the castle was filled with the girls’ giggles and whispers, how they wished for the king to whisk them away into a life of riches and royalty, to be his beloved first wife. Lumine kept a hand pressed against her leg—ensuring the dagger hidden under her heavy robes wouldn’t fall out.

She didn’t like to get messy with such a close ranged weapon—she would usually just use her magic from a distance—but she wasn’t going to take a chance if something were to go awry.

As they neared the castle, everyone burst into gasps, admiring the massive stone structure. The excitement doubled as the dozens of other carriages came into view as well.

This is going to be one very extravagant party.

Before she knew it, Lumine was sitting in the great hall, along with the rest of the party goers, awaiting the king’s arrival. She saw the empty throne at the very front of the room, raised on a marble platform, his rightful place above his subjects.

A fanfare of brass instruments blared. The king is here.

The room collectively stood, bowing their heads as the king’s personal guards filed in. Lumine quirked her head to look for King Ajax.

Oh.

The king was not a hideous looking beast at all.

In fact, he was quite the opposite.

He walked in, tall stature carrying an air of importance (and arrogance) on his shoulders with a billowing crimson red cloak, a broad grin plastered on his face. He was young, exactly around Lumine’s age.

He had reddish-brown hair framing his face, locks that glittered like gold in the light of the room, and his eyes were like vortexes—deep whirlpools of the bluest ocean water. All his features were sharp, upturned, like a cunning fox waiting contently to trap its prey.

She watched as he made his way up to his throne, a sickening anxiety spreading through her limbs.

Lumine had never killed anyone so close in age to her—it had always been older men and women. And, of course, she had never found herself attracted to her target.

“Please,” the king spoke, still grinning. “Have a seat.” As he sat on his throne, the rest of the room sat as well.

Lumine swallowed the lump in her throat. His voice was light, playful even.

Was that truly the murderous king of Snezhnaya?

“A toast, to you, my people,” he said, raising a golden goblet. “Let the festivities begin.”

Lumine gulped down her own glass of wine, then shook her head.

I’m here for a job. Not romance.

The room filled with chatter, and Ying’er motioned to Lumine and the rest of the musicians to the corner where they would be performing their music for the night.

Lumine gathered her lyre, shuffling towards her spot in her heavily layered robes. Her mouth was set in a taut line.

A momentary lapse in judgement.

As she played the first few notes, her eyes flickered to the king, who was busy greeting various nobles at his throne. She narrowed her eyes at him, at that sly, sly smile on his face.

It won’t happen again.

* * *

The night seemed to drag on forever. After what seemed like an eternity of playing music for the room—as other patrons ate and danced and conversed—the musicians were finally taking a break.

Lumine delightfully chewed through expensive meats and breads as various actors, dancers, and poets took the floor in front of King Ajax to present their pieces.

The king seemed to be entertained, joining on some of the performances himself.

That drunkard from the bar was right. King Ajax was quite dramatic, inserting himself into the spotlight whenever he so pleased. How pretentious.

The crowd clapped and cheered as another performance was brought to an end, an air of boisterous chatter resuming. Lumine swallowed her last piece of food, making her way to Ying’er.

Time to get started.

“Ying’er,” Lumine called to her boss, clenching her side. “I feel a bit sick.”

The brunette woman raised a brow. “You were looking quite well before.”

“Yes, it was very sudden,” Lumine responded, turning to the exit. “I think I will just head back now.”

“So soon, dear? We haven’t even introduced ourselves to the king yet.”

Lumine was already on her way out. “I’ll see you back at the shop.”

She slipped past the guards patrolling the halls, ducking into the nearest empty room, a storage closet of sorts. Perfect.

She hiked her long robes up, unsheathing her dagger, cutting away at the garments. Sorry, Ying’er. But I can’t fight in this. She threw the discarded fabric in a dark corner, where they would be forgotten about.

She slid the knife back into its sheath, and cracked the door open the tiniest bit—enough to watch the entrance into the great hall.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

* * *

Lumine would have fallen asleep had it not been for the two guards who stopped to converse right outside her door. Within a matter of seconds, Lumine had gone from sleepily nodding off to firmly clenching her weapon in her hand, nerves buzzing on high alert.

“That party dragged on forever,” one of the guards said. “I don’t know how King Ajax does it. Isn’t he exhausted every night?”

“Not sure. He seems to enjoy it.”

“He’s been gone a while now. Should we check on him?”

Lumine tightened her grasp on her dagger. He was gone?

“No. He likes to be alone at night. He’ll kill you if you interrupt him.”

“Oh...Should we just go to the other side of the castle then? So we don’t...interrupt him?”

“...Sounds like a good idea.”

The sound of their footsteps faded, and Lumine dared a peek out the door to scope out the hallway.

There were no other guards, and the boisterous sounds of the party were long gone.

Lumine slid out of the closet, sneaking down the hall, starting her search for King Ajax.

Sounds like he’s still here somewhere. Alone.

This job was getting easier and easier.

Too easy.

* * *

Please be in this room.

There was a great stone door before her, one she had come to after a mind-numbingly exhaustive search through the entirety of the large castle. She pushed on the door, as slowly and as quietly as possible, then looked in.

She nearly cried out in relief.

Sitting in the middle of the room was King Ajax, his back turned to her.

He was completely silent, unmoving, in this empty stone room. Was he asleep? No, it looked more like meditation.

Lumine slinked in, silently, conjuring the elemental energy of the wind in the room.

She would take every bit of air out of his body. Quick, quiet, no mess. It was the method she had always used.

She closed her eyes to focus, feeling the pull of air from his lungs.

He was going to die, and she was going to be free, free with her brother—

WHOOSH!

Lumine opened her eyes just in time to see Ajax rush towards her.

His hand wrapped around her throat, and he slammed her into the ground. All of the breath in her body hissed out of her, and she clawed at his hand.

“Who are you?” he growled.

She stopped prying at his hold, quickly yanking out her dagger, and slashing at his face.

He dodged, forcing him to loosen his grip on her.

She slashed again at his hand, throwing herself away from him as he recoiled in pain. She rubbed at her neck, gasping for breath. The king was looking at the gash across his fingers.

Shitshitshit.

Lumine quickly focused her energy on the earth below, trying to create shackles out of stone to hold him in place, or to just bury him alive.

The ropes of earth sprang out of the ground. His eyes flickered to the coils as they rushed for him.

Yes!

But then a swirling mass of water appeared, engulfing him, destroying the chains in the process.

What—?!

A sharp stream of water shot out from the bubble, coiling around Lumine before she could react. She was pulled to the ground, bound, and unable to move.

The bubble of water dissipated, and Ajax stepped out, eyes ablaze. He approached Lumine.

“Who are you?” he asked again, less angry, more inquisitive.

She strained against the chains of water, her elemental energy unable to rid them. She locked eyes with him. “You’re a magic user.”

He squatted next to her. “You are too,” he responded, the smallest ghost of a smile on his lips. He took her dagger into his hands, weighing it. “Now, why were you trying to kill me?”

Lumine bit her cheek. No, she couldn’t sell Diluc out; he could still get Aether killed.

“That’s how you conquered Mondstadt and Liyue so easily. You used magic,” she pushed, ignoring his question. “That’s forbidden.”

He barked out a laugh, wiping his bloodied hand on her robes. “And yet, here we are, two magic users in one room.” He pointed the dagger at Lumine’s neck. “Tell me why you were trying to kill me, before I make it only one. I won’t ask again.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway,” Lumine said. “I’m a magic user. That threatens your power, doesn’t it?”

Ajax studied her for a second, pulling the dagger back, just a bit. “True.” He tilted his head. “But I’ve never actually met another magic user before.”

She averted his intense gaze. “So what are you going to do? Keep me alive and experiment on me?”

“No.” He stood. “How about this...in exchange for sparing your life, you become my student.”

…

What?

“You mean learn magic from you?” Lumine glared at him. “How do you know I won’t kill you in the future?”

“You won’t,” he said. “This murder attempt? Wasn’t personal—you tried to kill me from a distance. Someone must have sent you.” He closed his eyes, squeezing the hilt of the dagger. After some shaking, it disintegrated into dust.

“Also, you can’t kill me,” he continued, opening his eyes. “You’re severely untrained. You saw how easily I subdued you.” A small smile. “All the more reason to learn from me.”

Maybe this was the gods taking mercy on Lumine. Ajax didn’t kill her right away; she had a chance to live, to get back home to Aether.

“What’s in it for you? This only seems to benefit me,” she said to Ajax.

He hummed, thinking. “A potentially powerful weapon,” he responded, eyes glinting.

Maybe, once she learned more magic, she could overtake him, and complete her job.

She locked eyes with him.

“You have a deal.”

The ghost of those words burned bitter on her tongue.

* * *

Lumine nearly died the next morning.

“You did what?!” she gasped out, after deathly choking on a part of her breakfast.

She was currently sitting across from Ajax in his elegant dining room, who had just informed her that he had announced their marriage.

He leaned back in his chair. “A random new woman living in the king’s castle? Bound to raise many rumors,” he said, nonchalant. “This way, there are no rumors, and we can train without being questioned.”

Lumine worried her lip. He has a point.

“I don’t—We don’t have to...do anything in public, do we?” she asked.

“No.” He smirked. “Unless you want to, pretty girl.”

She grimaced. “No, thank you.” Here for a job, not romance, she reminded herself, no matter how handsome this cocky bastard is. Not to mention, she still planned to kill him.

And so, Lumine’s days were filled with training, pretending to the servants and maids she was King Ajax’s fiancée. She was trapped, as Ajax reminded her many times that if she tried to leave, he would swiftly execute her.

She learned more about him, as much as she didn’t want to. She saw that he did really care for his people, and provided for them as best he could—though he wasn’t above using his power to strike down those in his way, whether it was an enemy or a citizen who simply disrespected his reign.

And that was ultimately what he wanted: power. To have power over everyone in the land of Teyvat. He had endless ambition—Lumine could credit him that much.

Some days, she caught herself imagining it as well: a world she could rule over, have everyone bend to her will, set the laws so people like her and Aether could live without fear, and be provided for. In some ways, she could relate to Ajax’s desires. In some ways, she could justify his methods.

It very much disgusted her, at first. But then, it was liberating. To have someone who could understand the darker sides to her being, understand the blood on her hands.

Even Aether could never fully understand her. How part of her was always glad to be given magical powers to defend herself and those she cared about. How part of her enjoyed her current situation.

After all, she was living lavishly, compared to the impoverished life she had before. She had every meal provided for, luxuriously, and a soft bed to lay in every night. No threat of the authorities finding out about her powers and murdering her.

Could she perhaps bring Aether here?

Ajax had spared her—was it too much of a stretch to believe he would spare her twin as well?

If Aether could be brought here, she wouldn’t have to kill Ajax. She wouldn’t have to kill perhaps the only person in Teyvat that knew who she truly was.

* * *

“If you found another magic user,” she asked Ajax over dinner, “would you train them as well?”

Ajax took a sip of wine from his goblet. “No.”

“...No?”

A small smile, a slight flash of his canines. “I can’t have my weapons outnumbering me, now can I?”

Lumine’s mouth went dry. “If you won’t train them...what would you do with them?”

“Kill them.” He set the cup down. “They would be a threat.”

“I’m not a threat?”

Ajax barked out a laugh. “No, Lumine. No, you are not.”

Ah.

So she and Aether couldn’t be together here. Aether was still in danger of being outed by Diluc.

“Why?” Ajax questioned. “Are you lonely here?”

“I’m trapped in your castle. What do you think?”

He rested his head on his hand. “My bed is open at night, if you’d like.”

Lumine drove her knife through her food. “You’re insufferable.”

“Oh, Lumine, it’s just banter,” he said, chuckling. “You don’t think we’re friends? I quite like your company.”

She pursed her lips, staying silent.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” Ajax stared right at her. “I see you while we train. You like it here. You like becoming more and more powerful.”

He leaned over the table. “You and I are very similar.” He smiled. “There’s a hunger in your eyes. You want exactly what I have.”

Lumine stood abruptly. “We are nothing alike,” she spat uselessly. He sees right through me.

“I told you, you don’t have to lie to me,” Ajax responded, sitting back in his chair. “We are already married. We could rule together—as partners.”

...What?

“I thought I was your weapon.” Her knuckles were white from clutching the edge of the table.

“Partner if you so choose.” His blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Weapon if not.”

What game is he playing? “There has to be some sort of catch.” He was essentially offering her his power as king, even if it was just partially.

“No catch,” he said. “Like I said, if you refuse, you’ll just continue your little life of entrapment, as my weapon.”

“One of these options is obviously better than the other.”

Ajax laughed, genuinely, his expression softening, just a bit. “I guess one is.”

She gave him a look, quizzical, before swiftly leaving the room, his proposal still hanging in the night.

As the guards escorted her back to her room, she played the conversation over and over again in her mind.

Would it be so bad? Would it be so bad as King Ajax’s consort, his companion through his crusade of Teyvat?

He was right: part of her deep down ached for that kind of power.

But joining Ajax meant sacrificing her dear brother.

The aching desire hissed, Is that a sacrifice you are going to make?

* * *

The castle’s stone floors were freezing on Lumine’s feet as she traversed through the halls barefoot. No shoes meant no sound. No sound meant she could surprise the guards, getting the upper hand to take them out. Already, there was a trail of dead guards behind her as she passed through the corridors, the air stripped from their lungs.

Her sheer white nightgown fluttered around her as she dashed about, and in the dim moonlight waning through the windows, she thought herself a ghost, an angel of death. She was on a path she could not stop.

She knew exactly where he was. After spending so many days trapped here, of course she knew where the king’s quarters were.

She knew him like clockwork: what days he would stay up in his study, what days he would retire to his chambers and when. She knew where his guards were, when they would switch patrols, when their protection would be the weakest.

And when it came time, she stood outside of his door, wavering on the spot slightly.

She shook her head, trying the door. Locked.

Taking a breath in, she rapped her knuckles on the hardwood.

She heard rustling beyond the heavy oak door, her heartbeat picking up. She would have to get in there quick, before he looked behind her and saw his guards missing.

The door swung open, a flash of anger on Ajax’s face until he saw who it was.

He gave her a closed-eye smile. “Ah, Lumine, to what do I owe the pleasure—”

Lumine stood on the tips of her toes, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

She could feel him go rigid under her touch. She walked him backwards, further into the room, closing the door behind her with her foot.

As the door shut, he broke away from her. “Are you accepting my proposal?” he whispered, his hands clutched around her arms.

Lumine nodded, going for another kiss, arms slinking around his shoulders. This time, he melted into her touch, pulling until he was under her on his bed.

He fell for it.

Pity crept into her heart. From the way he breathed her in, the way he held her in his arms, there was a softness she had never seen from him.

He loved her.

She was his weapon, and now, his greatest weakness.

“I’m sorry,” she said against his lips.

His eyes opened, those ocean eyes on her as she pulled the air from his lungs with ease.

You shouldn’t have trained me.

His hand reached for her throat, but went to his own as he gasped and choked.

She wrapped her own hands around his, pressing down. She slammed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see his face.

He thrashed wildly, and she repeated I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msorryimsorry over and over again until he went still under her.

…

…

...

She opened her eyes, the world blurry around her. She wiped away the tears pooling in her vision, and looked down at Ajax.

He was unmoving, eyes glazed over, arms limp at his side.

Lumine reached for his throat, hand shaking, fingers checking for a pulse.

He’s dead.

She scrambled off of him, crumbling into a ball on the floor.

I killed him.

Her breathing was uneven—she was the one gasping for breath now as uncontrollable sobs racked through her body.

I am so sorry, Ajax.

* * *

“Lumi?”

Lumine turned to see Aether looking at her with worry.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

A breeze rustled by. Lumine turned back to look over green fields that stretched as far as she could see.

“I’m okay,” she responded.

“Okay,” he repeated. He smiled a bit, pulling an envelope from his pocket. “Diluc’s hawk came this morning. He sends warm wishes to us both.”

After the assassination of King Ajax, Lumine decreed Snezhnaya a freed country, a country with no ruler, and returned the lands of Mondstadt and Liyue back to their rightful heirs. Diluc, now the restored king of Mondstadt, gave Lumine and Aether the riches he promised, and a home deep in the countryside for the peaceful life they so desperately wanted.

But sometimes Lumine had nightmares of Ajax.

She would be sitting next to him, on their thrones as the King and Queen of Snezhnaya. Sometimes, little princes and princesses of theirs would be running around as well.

They would have conjured all of Teyvat together.

They would have loved each other.

Lumine would wake up, tears in her eyes, heart heavy with desire for that life.

And then she would cry because her life would never be peaceful ever again.

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #chilumi #fanfiction #fanfic #me

[candlestickbud]

Worthy of Betrayal Pt.1

Howzer x Jedi!GN:Reader [Ep.11 Spoilers]

Description: After the bad batch drop off the weapons to a client of Cid’s, she calls them in for a favor and asks them to help some royal Twi’leks on Ryloth.

Warnings/Notes: I'm predicting that this fic will have 5 parts. Possible smut in the future. Mentions of guns and child kidnapping, minor cussing. Sorry if the story is a little off, I was in a rush to finish. Hope you still like it though!

“What do you mean we have to go back!”

Hunter rose his voice at Cid from the comms on the ship. We were on our way back to Ord Mantel after dropping off weapons to some Twi’leks, a client of Cids. As they were already halfway to the destination, Cid called up the batch to inform us that we had to go back, but this time the location was on Ryloth.

“Hey, you still owe me, remember? Now tell goggles over there to get to Ryloth. I need you to rescue this kid named Hera Syndula, the twi’leks, her parents run Ryloth so we’ll be getting some big bucks, so I suggest you get moving, got that?”

Hunter sighed, “Mind telling us what we have to do to get out of dept?”

“Tell you what, let's say you don't mess this up, and you'll be out of debt. Just fell the big guy to ease up on the mantel mix, wouldya, ” Cid said before hanging up.

Hunter rubbed his face trying to shake off his tiredness.

“What's the word, Sargent, ” Wrecker asked.

“Tell Tech to relocate the route to Ryloth. We have another mission, but this is a mission we can't mess up. We need to save some senators kid.”

“Another senator? They aren't a separatist, are they? There's no way-”

“I didn't ask, and either way we have to take this job to get us out of that debt, ” Hunter cut off Echo, “and besides it's not a senator, just their kid.”

Echo glared at Hunter, “Well you should understand why I plan to not work with separatists, ” he said pointing his cybernetic socket arm at Hunter.

“Wait so who are we saving, ” Omega asked from her room.

Hunter pushed his way past Echo to talk to Omega, hearing Echo scoff as he walked away.

“That kid from earlier,” Hunter said softly.

“Hera? I knew she was in trouble! How can I help,” Onega exclaimed excitedly?

“I’ll let up know once we land. The empire will be there based on what that client said earlier. That's what they needed those weapons for.”

“That could mean that Crosshair would be there, ” Tech yelled from the piloting seat.

“Good! We need to talk some sense into him, get him home, ” Wrecker said.

“I don't think he wants to come home, ” Hunter said coldly.

“Doesn't matter, we need to get him back and remove his chip or whatever.”

Hunter opener his mouth to say something back, but instead walked away to the pilot's seat.

“We should at least try to save him, ” you said sternly.

“Cant save someone that doesn't want to be saved, ” Hunter barked back.

“In case to haven't noticed, we don't know what he wants. That chip is controlling him!”

“I agree with Y/N, ” Wrecker barged in.

“That's not the mission.”

•••

Howzer took off his helmet to ruffle his hair. It was a humid night on the planet of Ryloth, and he's been running around trying to capture a child named Hera with a squad of clone troopers.

“Hey boss, do we stun her or shoot.”

“Stun! She's a child, has some empathy. Besides, I'm sure they want her alive, otherwise, we have no leverage over Cham.”

“You got it, captain.”

There was silence as the squad walked through the place, flashlight in hands and visors on night vision mode as they searched for the child. This seemed very wrong to Howzer. What would the empire want with a child if they already have Cham? Leverage, but for what? They don't plan on hurting the kid, do they?

“What do you think they'll do with the kid, ” Howzer asked his squad.

“Who cared, she's a traitor to the empire. She's lucky she isn't dead yet. Speaking of traitors, don't we have orders to kill whoever betrays the empire?”

“What? That's ridiculous, we should just imprison them, and still, she's a child, soldier. We aren't killing her, ” Howzer scoffed.

The squad quietly whispered to each other. Suddenly a ship hovered over them, landing a few feet behind where they were.

“Stay cautious, that could be their backup.”

“Shoot to kill or stun, ” a trooper asked.

“Stun. I won't tell you again, ” Howser said through gritted teeth.

“Whatever you say, Captain, ” the trooper said with an annoyed tone.

Howzer placed his helmet back onto his head, getting his gun ready and placing it in stun mode.

“I have eyes on them!”

The troopers began shooting blindly at a group of troopers, a Jedi standing in front of then reflecting the shots with a child behind them.

“Hold your fire, ” Howzer exclaimed.

The troopers ignore him.

“I said, hold your fire!”

The troopers looked at each other in confusion and disgust.

“They're wanted by the empire! We need to kill them, they're traitors.”

The troopers began shooting live rounds at the squad.

“But they have a child with them! Stop!”

Howzer put his gun in the gun holder that held itself on his waist, pushing a trooper back. One by one, the trooper squad of 5 became the squad of 2.

“You're not fit enough to be Captain! You're a trait of to the empire! We have to kill them, now!”

“No! This is wrong and you know it! Snap out of it how can you not see that this is wrong, ” Howzer said before being pushed to the ground by Hunter.

“See what you did! You're a traitor, ” the trooper said trying to shake out of Wrecker's grasp.

“You, be quiet, ” you yelled at the trooper.

You walked up to Howzer, cocking your head to the side slightly.

“Hunter, there's something wrong with his chip.”

Hunter looked up at you, scrunching his eyebrows together, “How can you be so sure?”

“He seems...different I can feel it.”

Hunter looked at you and then back ah Howzer, grabbed him by the shoulders, and pushed him up to his feet. You walked towards Howzer and removed his helmet, eyes widening, surprised with how attractive the clone was. You looked at him, placing your hands on his face, inspecting him. Howzer attempted to back off, but Hunter held him in place. He flinched as you placed a hand near the left side of his head, closing your eyes as you felt his chip through the force. You opened your eyes, staring into his eyes, only for him to nervously look away.

“He has his chip, but it's damaged, ” you looked at Hunter as if you were asked for permission.

“Fine. You deal with him. We cat have him running back to the empire to inform them of our arrival. We can't have any attention, this is a stealth mission. We need to focus on saving the kid, ” Hunter said, shoving Howzer towards you.

You caught Howzer and placed your lightsaber close to his face, only for him to flinch against it, his head laying on your shoulder, “Try anything stupid and I'll kill you on sight, got that?”

“I thought that wasn't the Jedi way, ” he said with caution.

You retracted your saber and placed it back on your holders, “There is no Jedi way, ” you scoffed, putting his helmet back on. You knew it would possibly be a distraction to you.

“What do I do with him, ” Wrecker asked, picking up the trooper he held captive.

“Woah, ” the trooper yelped.

Hunter looked at Howzer and then the trooper.

“His chip is active,” you said.

Hunter paused for a second in thought, “Stun him. Look, we’ll look over here, you and Omega look over there, that way we’ll have a better chance of finding the kid.”

“You got it. Cmon, Omega, let's get ahead of them. I think Hera will be pleased to see that you're the one rescuing her, ” you said as you pushed Howzer forward, grabbing Omega’s hand as you led her away, Hunter stunning the clone from behind.

You and Omega stared at Howzer as you walked through the gravel trail.

“Uhm...Why do you two keep starring at me,” he asked.

“To make sure you don't try anything funny, ” you lied.

“Your chip isn't working. That's pretty rare for a clone, ” Omega explained.

“What is this chip that you guys keep talking about?”

You sighed, ” Well, the clones, you included, have these chips that were implanted in you when you were, I think a stage 1 embryo?”

“Stage 2,” Omega corrected.

You chuckled, “A stage 2 embryo, and these chips were implanted in you by the Emperor to have you murder the Jedi. Nearly all of them were killed during order 66. I survived it by chance.”

“Oh…so that’s what that was. I’m sorry.”

You looked at Howzer in confusion, “W-What?”

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard to go through I had no idea. When I was out on a mission, we were working with a Jedi and just out of no where, everyone aimed their blasters at the General. They had told us they were traitors to the republic, betrayed the Chancellor.”

“Yeah, that’s because we found out he betrayed us. He was working with Count Dooku.”

Howzer shook his head in disappointment, “You must hate us then, clones.”

You looked at Howzer, sighing as you let go of his shoulder, “No, I don’t. The clones, it’s not their fault, what they did. They’re all being controlled by these chips, being controlled by the empire. I made my peace with the clones once I got informed of this by the batch.”

Howzer walked by your side, “So those troops back there, their chips are also defected?”

“They were, but we got help with removing them. Having the chips mean that’s you’re still a threat. They could activate at any time.”

“Why not stun me? Like him back there.”

You thought for a moment, “Just because your chip isn’t activated doesn’t mean your not with the empire. For all we know you could still be loyal to them. We didn’t wanna risk the possibility of activating your chip, and we couldn't have you go off to the empire.”

“Oh. What do you uh plan on doing with me once you find the kid?”

“If I’m being completely honest with you, I’m not sure.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” he chuckled nervously.

He scratched the back of his neck, looking at you as if hesitant to ask a question.

“I can feel you looking at me. What is it?”

Howzer looked away, “U-Uhm I was just uh…” he stuttered, “Uhm, where were you? During order 66.”

You smiled at his struggle, a smile still placed on your face when he asked the question.

“I uh I was actually in my ship. It was on a mission I was in with my droid to Ord Mantel, I was supposed to get intel on this bounty Hunter I’ve been hunting down. My droid saved me from the clones.”

“Lucky you weren’t assigned with a squad.”

You chuckled, “Yeah really.”

You and Howzer heard rustling from a bush that was up ahead. Howzer got in front of you, trying to take a closer look.

“Come out! We know you're there,” Howzer yelled.

You grabbed Howzer’s shoulder, “Maybe you should keep it down. If it’s Hera, she could be scared since you are supposed to be hunting her down,” you rolled your eyes in his idiocy.

“Oh, uh, right, ” he backed up.

Howzer removed his helmet. He's very well aware that citizens are often scared of the armor rather than what's underneath it. You glanced and him in admiration until you heard the bush rustle again.

“Hera? It's me and Omega, remember? We were selling those weapons to your uncle, ” you said calmly.

Slowly peaking out from the bush, you saw Hera’s head, “Omega?”

Omega waved at her, “Hello,” she smiled.

Hera got out from the bush, “What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to rescue you.”

Hera looked at Howzer with wide eyes, “H-He’s”

“Not with the empire,” Howzer said confidently, “Not anymore that is.”

“They’ll kill you,” Hera said walking towards Howzer.

“Not unless they catch me,” He smiled, patting her head.

You smiled at his kind act, “Hunter, we found Hera. We’re on our way back,” you looked at Howzer, “What are we going to do with...,” you whispered into your commlink.

“Hey! I never got your name, ” you said nervously.

“Oh! Uh, the name’s Howzer, ” he smiled, “What about you?”

You chuckled, “In your dreams, pal.”

“What are we going to do with Howzer, the clone.”

You heard Hunter sigh into his commlink, “We’ll stun him when we leave. Take him back with you in case we get spotted.”

“Hunter, we can't just leave him here. Hera knows him, he could be useful to us.”

There was no reply.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah, ” he sighed, “I'm here. Look just get over here we’ll talk when you get back.”

You walked over to Howzer with a smirk on your face, “Lucky you, Hunter doesn't want to kill you, ” you swung your arm over his shoulders, “Now you're really fucked.”

Howzer looked at you like a confused dog, “What do you mean? What you think I can’t handle a couple of clones and a Jedi?”

You laughed, “We ain’t your typical squad,” you smirked.

He got in your face, “Try me. I’ve been with many squads. What’s so different about you guys?”

You inched closer to his face, “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

There was a pause until the both of you burst out laughing.

“Cmon, we gotta get back to them.”

“You got it, General.”

You stopped in your tracks, looking back at Howzer. You were going to say something but decided to let it go.

“Cmon girls. We have to get back to the ship.”

“Coming, ” they said laughing.

•••

“I never noticed how nice your hair is, ” you said ruffling Howzer’s hair.

He kindly swatted your hand away, “Thanks, ” he said while rolling his eyes.

You looked at his face, eyes scanning over his scars. You choose not to ask him about them. Not yet anyway. The girls whispered and giggles to each other throughout the walk to the marauder.

“What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing, ” they chuckled devilishly.

Both you and Howzer looked at them questionably, the at each other.

You shook your head, “Kids, huh?”

“Reminds me of my younger days, making fun of brothers for having a crush. Of course, that was before order 66. Good memories.”

The four of you continued to walk and began to see the ship, with Hunter sitting at the entrance of the ship.

“Took you long enough, ” he said as he got up, “We need to talk.”

You nodded, “Ladies, ” you smiled down at Omega and Hera, “into the ship. Omega show Hera our little secret since she’ll be with us for a bit.”

“Ooh! Good idea. Hera, follow me.”

The two children ran their way into the marauder, Howzer squatting down on the floor, patiently waiting for an invitation inside. Hunter grabbed you and pulled you off to the side, away from Howzer.

“Look I don't want to take him with us. He seems sketchy.”

You sighed and nodded in agreement, “Yes, I know but I'm sure he means well. I'll look after him but Hunter, something tells me that we can trust him. Howzer seems like a good guy. Hera seems to trust him and she knew him when he was working with her dad.”

Hunter looked at Howzer to see him awkwardly wave at him.

Hunter cursed, “Fine, but if anything and I mean anything, happens, he's off the ship.”

You nodded, giddily walking over to Howzer, then clapping your hand on his shoulder.

“What’re you doing just standing here like an idiot? C’mon,” you snickered.

“Well, excuse me for trying to be polite, ” he smiled, Hunter glaring him down as you all entered the ship.

#thebadbatch #howzer #captainhowzer #star wars clones are hot #star wars clones #captain howzer #Howzer x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars #tbb omega

[random-thought-depository]

Tangent from my last post: reading over this and thinking about it, I’ve pinpointed a disagreement that I think reveals a fundamental disagreement I have with the ideas I was responding to there.

Seph’s essay talks about liberal sexual consent practices as requiring a shift toward a more Culture A style of social interaction; requiring a willingness to actively assert your own interests instead of engaging in Culture B accommodationism. And that’s true, but I immediately recognized that it’s incomplete in a way that I think fundamentally distorts what’s happening, though it took me a while to think out exactly how. Saying “no” involves a degree of Culture A type assertiveness, but respecting that “no” and pro-actively making sure your partner is enjoying things involves an attentiveness to feelings, an accommodationism, and an attentiveness to maintaining harmony that’s more Culture B.

Like, if you drew up two columns, one labeled “Macho Republican Dad Boomerpost Stuff” and one labeled “Softy SJW Stuff,” and started sorting things into those columns by which group they’re more stereotypically associated with (bacon, guns, capitalism, Christianity, complaining about “cancel culture,” and calling people sissies as an insult into the Republican Dad column, tofu, queerness, feminism, socialism, veganism, accusing people of microaggressions, and being a Wiccan into the SJW column, etc.), I think liberal sexual norms placing a high premium on explicit consent would definitely stereotypically belong in the “SJW” column. And in this context I think that’s revealing.

I think what’s happening here is fundamentally orthogonal to Culture A vs. Culture B. I think, like a lot of left vs. right divides, it fundamentally comes down to hierarchy vs. egalitarianism. Liberal sexual norms emphasizing consent are a rejection of the pecking order method of simply resolving sexual conflicts of interests in favor of the person with more power, whether that power is social status, physical strength, emotional intelligence, or just being more willing to press for their interests. Culture A vs. Culture B is fundamentally orthogonal to what’s really going on here; trying to understanding this issue through that lens is at best like trying to understand the US Civil War through the lens of doctrinal disputes between different types of Christianity (you may get some genuine insights, but you’ve mistaken the fringes of the conflict for its core), and at worst like trying to understand the US Civil War through the lens of doctrinal disputes between Sunni and Shia Islam.

Actually I think the “trying to understand the US Civil War through the lens of Christian doctrine disputes” may be a good analogy, because I think this does tie back to the “the left/liberal side of the culture war is waging a war against Culture A” hypothesis in a way that reveals how that idea is not exactly wrong but misses an important dimension of what’s happening. I think what’s happening is that hierarchy is more explicit and explicitly enforced in Culture A, and therefore as society becomes less like a pecking order hierarchy tends to assume Culture B characteristics.

Culture A is where you find the human hierarchies that look the most like actual pecking orders, which are maintained by literal physical pecking. It’s where you find the openly brutal world of bosses screaming “the leads aren’t weak, you are!” into a cringing subordinate’s face, cops quietly taking an uncooperative suspect into a convenient alley and roughing him up a little to “teach him to respect our authority,” gangsters beating somebody up for being insufficiently deferential to them, some 6′3 250 pound guy in the grips of road rage punching some 5′7 150 pound guy in the face over a smashed bumper, teachers disciplining students by giving them hard blows on the palm with a ruler, a swaggering thug threatening a woman with physical violence because she had the effrontery to object to him groping her, and jocks having some fun inflicting casual physical abuse on the nerds in the locker room and on the playground. Hierarchies in Culture A are often maintained by physical violence and the threat thereof and put-downs and other explicit verbal bullying. When somebody in Culture A thinks you’ve gotten a bit above your station and wants to put your in your place, they’re likely to either actually use physical violence against you, explicitly threaten you with it, or explicitly insult you. Abuse in Culture A tends to look like our stereotypical picture of some swaggering thug openly terrorizing somebody who has some sort of vulnerability.

By contrast, hierarchies in Culture B tend to operate under more polite fictions of relative egalitarianism, cooperativeness, and non-violence. Enforcement of Culture B hierarchies tends to be less overtly violent. Culture B hierarchies are more likely to be covert and legible only to somebody with inside knowledge (e.g. you’ve ostensibly got a group of equals, but some are more equal than others because of advantages that mostly aren’t explicitly acknowledged). Culture B tends to have more of an ideal that coercive power can only be legitimately exercised for moral reasons, while Culture A tends to have more of a “master morality” culture where power is seen as worthy of respect in itself (Culture A is what gave us “Chad” and “alpha” as aspirational ideals), which is why bullying in Culture B tends to have a moralistic and fearmongering nature (see: Tumblr call-out posts) while bullying in Culture A tends to follow a more “master morality” logic of “our victim is weak and aesthetically displeasing to us, and that in itself makes them deserve punishment” - though much like “Culture A rewards strength and technical skills, Culture B rewards social skills and popularity” that’s a dichotomy that can easily be overplayed; most human hierarchies come with a hefty dose of community-minded moralism (even if the community is a pirate ship or criminal gang or something like that), and social skills and popularity are hugely important in almost any culture. Culture B is for people who wouldn’t dream of doing anything so barbaric as yelling at you or punching you because they’re mad at you; they’d complain to the human resources department who’d force you to spend a Friday evening listening to somebody lecture you about the need to “make our store a welcoming environment for our valued customers.”

An archetypal abusive Culture A authority figure is the macho thuggish “respect mah authoritay!” cop. An archetypal abusive Culture B authority figure is the gaslighty Nice Lady Therapist. The former is more-or-less open about the fact that he sees himself as above you in the pecking order and if you dispute that he’ll be delighted to enforce the pecking order in approximately the way chickens do it. The latter pretends to be your friend (and perhaps believes themselves to be that), and expends a great deal of effort tailoring their pecking order enforcement to not look like pecking order enforcement - significantly, they might like to be as openly brutal as the “respect mah authoritay!” cop is, but in strong Culture B that social strategy just doesn’t work; their social strategy represents a compromise with socially influential ideals of egalitarianism and non-violence, a tribute that vice pays to virtue (less charitably, it may simply reflect playing to different strengths and trying to minimize different weaknesses, e.g. the thuggish cop may have chosen that social strategy because he’s a physically powerful but not particularly socially intelligent Biff Tannen type, while the Nice Lady Therapist may have chosen that social strategy because she’s a socially intelligent and Machiavellian but physically feeble 4′10 woman).

In short, Culture B tends to both meaningfully soften the blows of pecking order enforcement and obfuscate them. It follows that as equalizing movements gain ground and explicit pecking order logic becomes more taboo, hierarchy will increasingly take on Culture B characteristics. In 1700, if you angered your boss in some petty interpersonal way he might have whipped you, which was his right as your master. Today, if you anger your boss in some petty interpersonal way she might think a little about how to get revenge on you in a way that doesn’t risk blowback if you take it up with the union, and then find some excuse to arrange for you to have to attend some mandatory HR remedial training that isn’t officially a punishment but let’s be real, totally is. Maybe in 2200 you won’t have a boss because you’ll work in an officially egalitarian syndicalist union, but there will be some union members who are “more equal than others” because of personal connections or charisma or some combination of both, and if you anger one of them in a petty interpersonal way they might through whisper networks arrange a quiet campaign to make sure the union votes against your requests for your favorite foods on the workplace lunch menu.

I guess I’m staking out a position as a hedging kind-of partisan of Culture B here. There’s a lot of talk about how Culture B gets an undeserved good reputation and can be just as unfair and cruel as Culture A but in a more insidious way, and I’m sympathetic to that and I think there’s a lot of truth to that, but, y’know, if I had to choose between pecking order enforcement that has to maintain a plausible veneer of being something else and just open undiluted sadistic pecking order enforcement, I think I’d prefer the former. I think even just adding in a requirement of hypocrisy improves things, because it forces pecking order enforcement to optimize for plausible deniability instead of sadism and effective tyranny. Admittedly, as somebody who finds this very relatable I have a strong personal bias here.

An illustrative personal anecdote: the usual stereotype of high school is that bullied kids (or at least bullied boys) suffer a lot of casual physical abuse, but I noticed that in my school there was a lot of verbal bullying but mercifully little physical abuse; the worst that was likely to happen in terms of physical violence was somebody tripping you up or throwing a box of kleenix at you or spitting their drink at you or something like that. I suspect the reason was that blatant physical violence was pretty much the only form of bullying the school administration would reliably punish (though they’d likely punish the victim right along with the perpetrator), and that’s why it usually wasn’t done. I suspect what happened is that stereotype of chronic casual physical abuse reflects what schools were like when the baby boomers were growing up (and boomers then wrote fiction etc. that reflected that experience that shaped the pop culture stereotype), but then anti-bullying reforms came along and by the late ‘90s and early ‘00s they’d achieved one great success: mostly eliminating that schoolyard culture of casual physical violence. And that was a very incomplete fix, just addressing the tip of the iceberg of the problem and probably often redirecting bullying into psychological abuse rather than actually reducing it... but, y’know, I’m really glad my middle and high school experience didn’t conform to that pop culture stereotype of the school dweeb getting regularly beaten up by four or six bigger kids. I had an awful time in middle and high school, but judging from pop culture stereotypes it could have been so much worse, and if suspensions for kids who punched other kids is what created that difference, then I’m profoundly grateful for that reform.

I think the left is kinda-sorta waging war on Culture A as a side-effect of its war on pecking order culture, in which high-status people enjoy the advantages of Culture A while low-status people labor under the disadvantages of Culture B. It’s not an accident that Culture A is associated with men and Culture B is associated with women. Accommodation (sometimes to the point of self-harm) is a survival strategy for low-status people in a social structure that resembles a pecking order; if you’re going to lose the fight, it often makes sense to pre-emptively accept a settlement that favors the interests of the stronger person (often to the extent of trying to anticipate the stronger person’s wants, performing even the brain work of figuring out their preferences for them). Competitiveness is a social strategy for upward mobility in a pecking order society or defense of a place near the top of the pecking order (it also has more pro-social functions so we probably want to keep it around in some form, but social competition is very much part of its function). Women tend to be reluctant to openly advocate for their personal interests because for much of history a woman openly advocating for her personal interests was likely to provoke status-guarding retaliation from men. Men tend to be reluctant to show vulnerability and see doing so as feminine because for much of history other men were likely to perceive a vulnerable man as an opportunity to increase their own social status by lowering the vulnerable man’s social status, and as a rule of thumb to lower a man’s social status was to give him a social status more like a woman’s. In the context of a pecking order society, a lot of Culture B makes sense as social strategies for people at the bottom of the pecking order with little realistic shot of escaping its lower levels, and a lot of Culture A makes sense as social strategies for people at the top of the pecking order and people at the bottom or middle of the pecking order who have a realistic shot at using high-risk high-reward social strategies to move up in the hierarchy. I think there’s some complicating factors around reproductive dynamics that explain why this is a gendered thing instead of just a class thing, but I won’t get into that here. So it makes sense that as society becomes less like a pecking order that process will involve shifts toward Culture A in some areas and shifts toward Culture B in other areas, because those cultures are probably both somewhat maladaptive in a more egalitarian social context.

A relevant example is that for much of history vigorously advocating their own sexual interests was often very risky for women, so Culture B primes women to pre-emptively accept a settlement that favors the man’s sexual interests, so liberal consent norms work better if women develop more assertiveness about their own interests, which looks kind of Culture A-ish. At the same time, women now have more leverage to effectively demand that men perform pro-social Culture B behaviors of accommodation, empathy, and consideration for the feelings and interests of others in the context of heterosexual sex.

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Tangential aside: I think thinking of hierarchy as the fundamental tension point of the left vs. right conflict illustrates a way that post I was responding to might be kind of too meta and you might get an illuminating perspective by stepping back from all that meta-level theorizing about fundamental epistemological differences and looking at the object level.

If you analyze left-wing “cancel culture” at the object level, what does it look like it’s trying to do? It seems to me that it’s trying to lower the social acceptability of what leftists perceive as defenses of hierarchy. Who are the stereotypical targets of campus “cancel culture”? They might be a “race realist” who’s very eager to tell you about how he thinks certain human groups have lower IQs or other congenital traits maladaptive to modern society and darkly hint about political implications. They might be a business libertarian economist who wants to stump for the gospel of the free market. They might be somebody who has a habit of delivering the academic equivalent of boomerposts about kids these days with their coddling and their trigger warnings and their genders. They might be some principled “free speech” type who seems to spend a lot of their energy white knighting for neo-Nazis and other far-right types. They might be somebody who you’d think would be relatively unobjectionable to leftists but who’s said something that can be uncharitably interpreted as bigoted at some point. Besides raw factionalism, the obvious common point is something that can be reasonably interpreted as a defense of hierarchy. The “race realist” at least implicitly says “some groups are smarter or otherwise better than others and may therefore be rightfully deserving of privilege.” The business libertarian economist at least implicitly says “if you’re poor because you can’t get a job or can’t get a job that pays well, that’s basically your problem and the system working as intended; a society with great inequalities of wealth and status may not be ideal but it’s at least better than all the realistic alternatives.” The academic boomerposter at least implicitly says “some people struggle in our education system because of personal emotional sensitivities; their weakness is their own problem and us more functional people have no obligation to accommodate it, if that harms them it may be regrettable but it’s basically the system working as it should to weed out those unfit for it.” The principled free speech proponent at least implicitly says “wanting to kill the Jews and re-enslave the blacks and have white Sharia should be a tolerated opinion in our society, at least insofar as it should not be legally persecuted, and I am willing to devote considerable efforts to defending that principle.” The basically unobjectionable liberal who happens to have a dodgy comment or three in their social media record at least implicitly says “I don’t think I should get too much blowback for once implying that [insert group of concern here] maybe deserves the jackboot to the face.”

And sure, you can dispute the fairness of such judgements, but the over-arching project outlined by these targets seems fairly obvious: to raise the social costs of what leftists perceive as defending pecking orders.

And, like, yeah, there’s some meta-level differences about the role of tolerance and debate too, but I suspect a lot of the disagreement is really more object-level, over how objectionable certain opinions actually are, e.g. a lot of the dispute over “cancelling” the business libertarian guy is probably going to be over 1) how objectionable defense of hierarchy actually is, 2) whether libertarian beliefs are actually defenses of hierarchy.

#people are complicated #my big ideas #leftism #culture #warning: long #cw: bullying #cw: violence #cw: rape #cw: bigotry #politics

[milfcodeddean]

Memento Moratus Sum

Emma Haunts the Necklace- The Fic <3

Starts more post/concepty and becomes a fic bc I did not plan on this it was stream of consciousness!  I have not seen all of the later seasons and it was hard to keep track of what plot points to mention even of all the seasons I have seen!

AO3

Emma dies and Dean keeps her necklace to have something to remember her by, partly out of grief for what could have been partly as an act of emotional self flagellation. He wears it under his shirt, a secret, just like any thoughts he has about his dead daughter. 

Emma is a ghost because she didn’t do enough to be a monster and earn her place in purgatory but she isn’t human enough for heaven and she’s anchored to the necklace.

She follows Dean around silently, quickly learning enough about ghosts to know if she reveals herself too soon or ever really then Dean is going to burn the necklace.

During season seven Dean is haunted by two ghosts, Bobby, who is actively reaching out for him, and Emma, who is a silent observer. I think Emma hides from Bobby, he’s a hunter and she doesn’t want him to tell Dean about her, OR Bobby sees her before she knows ghosts can see other ghosts and they talk and he pities her but agrees to not let Dean know

Dean is wearing the necklace when he goes to purgatory. Emma is still a ghost here but it’s different, and she’s been watching this man for months now, he’s her world now. She keeps some of the monsters away, she makes him wake up when there are threats at night, she watches him befriend a monster and burns with pain at the knowledge that maybe she could have had that. Maybe she didn’t need to kill him, maybe he would have loved her not just as a dead hypothetical but as her.

Dean comes out of purgatory with an extra extra passenger. She watches with a sense of smugness as he rages at Sam, she pretends he’s also mad over her. She doesn’t like Sam’s attitude towards Benny either. She gets to see her great grandfather and she sees him die. She talks to his ghost, he calls her granddaughter (forgetting the great) even after learning she’s an amazon, before he gets reaped.

There’s an empty room in the bunker she pretends is hers. She moves objects in there, never quite decorating, but practicing telekinesis where Dean won’t see it and making up a fantasy of a life she could have had. She still never minds being tethered to Dean, especially now as he doesn’t sleep around and spends less time in bars where she’s left uncomfortably watching. She likes going to the grocery store, she likes watching him cook, maybe a few times she’s kept a pot from boiling over or a bag from falling. She’s learning to live from watching Dean, he doesn’t know it, but he’s teaching her life skills. She doesn’t know the names for the dishes he teaches her to make or the parts of cars or guns but she etches the motions he makes into her mind. She likes Charlie, she wishes she could meet her, and she likes larping. She imagines herself as an Amazon warrior of antiquity, armored in bronze.

She tried to wake Dean and Charlie out of their djinn dream but nothing worked, she tried to fight the djinn to no avail either. When Dean and Charlie hugged she wished she could be in their embrace too.

She’s glad it’s Bobby’s ghost they use for the trial, she’s so glad she never revealed herself.

Sam is slowly growing on her, she doesn’t love him but he means enough to Dean that she would try to stop him from dying.

She knows about Gadreel. She hides harder now, afraid too of the new angel in the bunker. Castiel she likes, Castiel she watched in purgatory and she watched beat her father bloody in the crypt and she understood brain washing and the control of authorities. She almost reveals herself and her knowledge of Gadreel when Dean kicks Cas out of the bunker, but her hesitation lasts too long.

She’s tethered to Dean so she isn’t there when Kevin dies. Kevin had been another one she enjoyed observing, she envied him his mother in so many ways, Linda had been everything Lydia hadn’t been. When Kevin dies he’s haunting the bunker too. It’s almost like having a friend. He pities her, but she’ll take anything, he’s sort of her age in some ways and she teaches him how to be a ghost.

Crowley almost gives her away. He knows she’s there, but he saves her presence as a bargaining chip against Dean, a surprise tidbit to bring up later.

The father of murder can see her too. Cain keeps his eyes on her father most of the time, but the spark in his eyes and smirk when he sees her and her bloody pink shirt cut straight through her.

Her father dies. She wants to run to him, to fling her arms around him and greet him with her bloody lips and stained shirt and tell him she forgives him and she loves him and she’s sorry he’s dead but can she at least spend some of eternity with him and she wants to teach him to be a ghost and she wants to tell him so many things she’s noticed. But Crowley does something that locks her voice and powers and keeps her from the room.

Demon dean leaves the bunker with Emma’s necklace ripped off and dropped beside a bedstead.

Sam picks up the necklace. Emma hates him touching it but it’s all she can hope that he doesn’t destroy it. She doesn’t know if he recognizes it, but he doesn’t throw it away, and brings it out to show Castiel as evidence for Dean’s absence. Castiel names it as Amazon gold, recognizes it as Dean’s, but does not know it’s origin. Emma has to hear her story from her murderer’s lips. She almost shows herself, but she’s afraid Sam will cast the necklace into a fire. If they could do that to Bobby, they’ll do it to her. But she doesn’t feel like a vengeful uncontrolled spirit, perhaps it’s the Amazon magic, but she feels calmer than she ever was during her days of life.

Her necklace stays in the bunker, she watches demon Dean from a distance at first, she tries to comfort him strapped to the chair but he calls her a hallucination and lets something between a sob and a laugh out before turning away. She tries, she wipes his brow, she begs him to become human again or to die, she tries to keep the devil’s trap intact. Still she is called a hallucination. It’s almost nice to be important enough that he’d hallucinate her.

When Dean, normal human dean, is back, he fixes the necklace with pliers and holds it staring at it in his hands. He’s alone in his room. Emma gently puts her hands over his where they are clasped around her anchor to him. She doesn’t know if he can feel her. Her name comes from his mouth in a breathy whisper, wet and rough, a word unused to being spoken. He bends over himself, weeping with the necklace pressed to his mouth. Emma weeps as well. He would not weep if he did not love her, but he is a hunter and she has to chose between this silent spectatorship where she can pretend she is living in rooms beside him, or the knowledge that if he knew she was haunting him, he would burn the necklace to send her on.

She doesn’t know if there’s another afterlife for failed amazons, and from what she understands of Heaven, hers would be something pathetic like the day she met Dean before she died, or an eternity as a ghost watching him weep.

She hates watching Dean with Amara those few days. She hates the burning wretched envy risking corrupting her as he holds a baby girl that isn’t her. She hates that Amara loves Dean. And she hates even more that Amara brings back Mary instead of her.

She never realized that she wanted to be brought back and resurrected so badly and that it was even an option until she watches Dean reunite with Mary.

Dean mentions her to Mary- almost - he says he had a kid, and the cut off gesture to the necklace means her. Emma stopped minding that Dean never spoke about her. She didn’t want him to talk about her with Sam, and she quickly realized he didn’t talk about his grief with anyone. But he did wear her necklace, and sometimes he took it out from under his shirt and rubbed his thumb over the metal and she would pretend it was his thumb stroking the back of her hand. Dean didn’t talk about her and she didn’t need him to. But now he had, and with his mother. And he implied he had thought about what he would want for her, that he wouldn’t want his life of violence and moving for her.

Emma likes Mary as a warrior woman, but can’t help but understand Dean’s pain when she leaves. She understands being the surprise child older than a parent wants too much.

She tried to help Dean as she always has, but the British Men of Letters terrify her. She knows they would either keep her to study or destroy her and she can’t trust anyone to keep her secret from their spying.

Later it seems the world collapses again. Cas dies. Angels don’t have ghosts, she can never meet him. And Kelly has eyes only for her son until she is reaped. Emma wishes she could comfort Dean or that she could truly leave him to his grief. She turns away as he ties Castiel’s body with yellow curtains. She stands beside him watching the pyre.

She doesn’t understand Dean’s attitude towards Jack. She’s watched jealously how Dean interacts with Krissy, with Claire, with the orphan boys at the home, and she has her fantasy of how Dean would have treated her had she lived. The jealous part of her doesn’t want Dean to like Jack, but most of her wants Dean to go back to acting like how she expected him to, she wants the man she could pretend was being her father. And she watches Jack enough to be afraid of their similarities. To see herself in him. And if Dean hates him, would he have hated her. Does he only wear her necklace because she’s dead.

She watches silently when Dean finally breaks, confronted, and tells Sam that he sees her in Jack. She hears how he loves her. She watches Sam realize the enormity of his crime and apologize. She accepts the apology, even if it wasn’t meant for her ears. Dean doesn’t see her, but she sits beside him on the opposite side of Sam on that floor.

Something has changed.

Sometimes, it seems like Dean is glimpsing her out of the corner of his eye. He stares at the steamy bathroom mirror while he’s shaving, right at the red smear on the pink of her shirt. He nicks himself, swears, and swipes a hand through the steam, through her image. He does double takes in the rear view mirror, glancing twice at the backseat where she sits, pretending she’s part of his road trips.

Jack brings back Castiel. Jack has powers beyond what Emma could have imagined. And Jack is both nice and not fully indoctrinated into hunting ways. Emma also likes Jack, she understands so much about him, and she likes the shows he watches, she likes the way he’s nice, and in her elaborate fantasy of what if she was alive, she decides he’s her brother.

It’s hard to find a time when Jack is alone but near enough to Dean and the anchoring necklace that she can talk to him, but it happens.

Emma focuses everything she has into appearing, a heavy grounding feeling she hasn’t felt since Dean was a chained demon. The words catch in her throat, unpracticed at speaking, but she blurts out to Jack that she’s his sister, the words spilling fast, that she’s Dean’s dead daughter, she doesn’t tell him that Sam killed her, she’s seen Sam with him, their closeness she can’t decide if she envies or not. She tells him she’s an Amazon, how she’s dead but anchored, how she doesn’t have a heaven or purgatory or hell, how she wants to come back. She tells him that she likes his shows and she tells him she loves Dean and Castiel and she finds things she likes about Sam. He doesn’t look at her with pity. He looks at her with a bright spark to his eyes.

But he doesn’t resurrect her. At least not right away. Apparently he’s been too recently warned off from the idea of asking for forgiveness rather than permission. He thinks she should reveal herself to Dean first, before they decide. Emma hates the idea, she spent all of these years afraid of Dean destroying her anchor, and now she’s afraid of his rejection, what if he resents her watching him all the time, what if he blames her for not doing more. What if he wants her gone instead of brought back.

The Amazons,in their scant days of raising her, taught her to be brave.

Jack asks the family to stay after dinner.

Emma takes a deep breath, more for the instinctive motion than for a need for air, and materializes.

There’s a beat of silence and then a mess of noises. Dean drops a mug, Sam’s chair skids, everyone one is talking at once.

Emma can’t find words to say to Dean, she wants to stare at him as she always does, but she can’t bear to see rejection on his face. She waits and Jack opens his mouth to introduce her but then her name comes from Dean’s lips. It’s like that dark night where they wept in his bedroom again. She has called him many variants of father in her mind in several languages, but it is the most childish “daddy” that slips out.

No one else in the room matters, he looks at her, meeting her eyes instead of the gorey wound, and she gets eye contact without having to pretend she is what’s in his sight line.

He doesn’t ask if she’s a ghost or if she’s dead or any of the silly civilian questions. He only manages “how” before fumbling for the necklace, and she nods confirmation. She wonders if he’s planning on burning it.

He asks how long and suddenly words spill forth, she tells him she’s been here the whole time, watching, she says she sorry about Bobby and Kevin and Charlie and Kelly and Cas and Benny she tells him the ones she helped with being a ghost, she tells him about watching the others move on, she says she’s sorry she couldn’t do more when he was a demon and something in his expression breaks, she says she’s sorry she never showed herself.

He holds up a hand, stopping her before she apologizes again, and says he remembers her when he was a demon, that he had thought she was a hallucination, she nods and cries anew.

She wants to tell him that she’s watched him and loves him and even if it’s embarrassing she wants to say she’s pretended to be alive with him, and she wants most of all to ask if he loves her, to hear it said to her face.

Instead he asks weakly why she’s here now.

She says she wanted to come clean about haunting him, says she’s thought about it for years and was scared he would burn the necklace, says she’s learned about ghosts from him and she’s never felt vengeful, she doesn’t feel corrupted, and maybe it’s because she’s a monster. His face twitches at that word.

Jack interrupts, changing the air in the room and suddenly both she and Dean remember their audience. Sam’s eyes are wet and he looks something close to afraid. Emma hopes the look on Castiel’s face is softness for her too and not just Jack.

Jack offers to bring her back, tells Dean that they didn’t want to do it behind his back. Emma turns invisible again out of the sick swoosh of anxiety that overwhelms her. She barely hears through her ringing ears that Dean desperately agrees and says yes, fumbling to take the necklace off and pass it to Jack.

She’s going to have to wait a few days. Jack is going to bring her back where her body is, and that’s more than 24 hours of driving away, and Dean wants to be there.

It’s a weird car ride, they know she’s there, and she sits between Castiel and Jack in the back of the Impala. They had her pick a set of Jack’s clothes to replace her bloody shirt, they have food and water for her. Emma doesn’t have a name for the emotions she’s feeling and they’re almost overwhelming.

They don’t have to dig her up to bring her back, Jack’s powers allow for that at least, and Emma is glad, she’s watched Dean dig up enough graves to imagine what she’ll look like.

Then Jack’s eyes glow bright gold.

It’s like what she imagines being born feels like. Overwhelming and dark and bright and both blissful and painful. And then she is gasping with real lungs and the sunlight is bright in her eyes and she can feel the textures of her clothing and the grass.

And then arms and hands are on her, Dean is pulling her to her feet and into his embrace in one motion.

She’s never been hugged by him, and it’s better than her jealous imaginings when he held others. She never wants to let go, she feels safe and warm and loved and his hand is on her hair and she can smell him and feel his heartbeat.

He finally lets go and steps back to look at her, keeping a hand on her shoulder and cupping her cheek with the other. There are streaks of tears matching her own on his face. His hands leave only to be replaced by Jack.

Jack’s hug is different but enthusiastic, there are no tears, he is beaming, part proud, part delighted, she can’t help but smile back. He calls her sister and she accepts him as brother.

Castiel does not embrace her, but his greeting his warm and his eyes match his smile. He clasps her hand between his and Emma’s heart swells.

She knows Sam doesn’t know how to look at her or how to talk to her. She doesn’t know what she wants from him either. She knows hes sorry, she’s heard it from his own lips, not to her, but to the only other person to whom it would matter. She smiles hesitantly at him, instead of glaring, and waves.

Then she slips her hand back into Dean’s and lets him pull her into another hug. She feels light and giddy and afraid this is all a dream. If she died and this is heaven then she would accept that too.

But it’s real, she changes out of her bloody shirt and into a blue one of Jack’s, she drinks water for the first time in years and eats fruit snacks from a packet pulled from Castiel’s trench-coat pocket, and a cereal bar.

A few hours later they stop at a nicer diner than Emma usually sees them eat at, and Dean tells the hostess it’s his daughter’s birthday and Emma gets to order foods she’s been curiously watching people eat for years off the menu. The restaurant gives her cake.

Emma’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and Dean’s eyes have not lost their cheerful crinkle and Jack is beaming and even Sam and Castiel look endlessly pleased.

Later there will be harder talks, about the things she’s witnessed, later she’ll talk about haunting their steps, about the years of questions built up, later she’ll realize she doesn’t remember how to sleep and Dean will sit and try to stroke her hair and talk softly and it’s nice but not enough. Later it will be Castiel who explains how to become human, how to adjust to having a body, how to sleep and how to tell if you like a food or not. Later she will argue with Dean about her usefulness on hunts and he will tell her how scared he is of her dying again. Later Mary will come back and die. Later Jack will die and a demon will wear his corpse and she will hate and fear it, later God will tell her she is an interloper in his story.

But for now Emma has a family and a piece of cake and a table of smiles.

#emma winchester #emmanatural #dean winchester #dad dean winchester #my writing #this was not planned this was just me thinking Hey what if Emma haunted the necklace and was there watching events and like the Emma feeling #s spilled over into a whole 3.5k fic so #i might put this on ao3? the start is so weak tho #yes that is a reference to buried ghosts and bitter truths