#he loves his sons dearly dearly dearly even if he struggles along the way to show that

[turtleblogatlast]

No but like every time I think about Splinter and what he had to go through just to keep the boys alive, my heart hurts for him so badly. Is he perfect? No not at all, but none of them are and by god does he love his sons.

The fact that all of them are alive, and grew to thrive despite the circumstances surrounding them is a testament of how much Splinter loves his boys. He raised four babies following the most traumatic time of his life, all alone with nothing but the sewers to house them (to hide them.) I feel like he’s not given the credit he deserves for all he’s done.

And I get that it’s easy to hold up his flaws and faults when it comes to parenting, I myself like looking into them because flawed characters are super interesting and said flaws make them more realistic and engaging, but he tries, and again, so many others would have given up on the boys or failed along the way but Splinter didn’t.

He’s their father, for all his faults he did his damndest to make sure they survived.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt splinter #rise splinter #he’s not perfect as I’ve said #and he’s got a whole slew of flaws and faults #but he’s a person - we are all flawed #he loves his sons dearly dearly dearly even if he struggles along the way to show that #parenting is not easy! especially as a traumatized mutant who is forced to do it alone #side note but I think this is one of the reasons why it kiiiiiinda ruffles my feathers to see so many people assign parentification to Raph #and in turn make Splinter out to be way worse and way more distant than he is in canon? #like idk I just don’t see what so many others see ig but maybe that’s just me #i guess my thoughts are like- let parents have flaws without villainizing them? #they’re still parents even if they mess up? #we can discuss the repercussions of a parents actions on a child while not casting that parent as an awful person #parents are peopleeee #I could go on but yeahhh #idk it bothers me seeing splinter’s efforts undermined when he’s been through so much #idk if ppl realized this by now but I love me some flawed characters #tho I do think in this fandom the ones whose faults are discussed the most are like #Splinter mostly then Draxum then Leo #of the main cast #and in Splinters case in particular his faults are made to cover his good qualities which makes me sad #because he is SO INTERESTING #they’re all flawed characters and tbh so interesting because their flaws are ALSO their strengths in many aspects

[sunandsstars]

SPIDER THE MATCHMAKER

Recom!Miles x Na’vi!Reader x Spider (Platonic)

Summary: Spider finally had enough of Quaritch’s oggling and decided to help encourage his advances towards the reader, he has a ship, and he’s determined to let it sail. Warnings: Brief mentions of abandonment/murder/existential crisis, Swearing Word count: 1.8k

It was different, being accepted into Na’vi society. He was so used to being the bad buy, the killer among men, yet now he’s just..him. After becoming a recom he felt as if he did not belong, a human mind in an aliens body is something he had to get used to. He definitely had a lot of existential crisis up until now.

The last fight he had with Jake Sully in the reefs left him severely wounded and he had to retreat back to base to seek help, his men where gone and his morale was becoming low. Luckily his son, Spider, decided to join him. His reasoning was that while the Sully’s where kind to him growing up (especially kiri who he will miss dearly) he cant ignore the fact they never went after him when he got kidnapped by the RDA, he cant ignore how Neytiri was so willing to kill him after he showed the family nothing but loyalty and he cant ignore how he felt as if he never belonged with them as human. 

So there they are, holed up in the Tawkami Clan, learning their way of life and becoming part of the people.

Surprisingly they where quick to welcome them in despite them not having a good history with men kind, Spider said they where a peaceful clan with a persistent quest for knowledge and lore keeping, they were studious and make it their mission to preserve Eywa’s ecosystem. ‘So they wanted to study me, the human turned Na’vi, how could I say no to being the centre of their learning’

Quaritch was certainly liking the attention from the people, back at base he was oggled at yes, but for different reasons. Usually the looks he received where ones of admiration for his effort in the war all those years ago, or was disgust for his newly blue tinted skin. In Greenhome it was of great wonder, oh how her yellow eyes looked into his in fascination while talking about his past planet Earth, how she spoke about the plants and the forests of Pandora with great love, how-

‘��Hey man, you good?’’

Spider waved a hand in front of his face and looked around to see what could be stealing the man’s attention, once his sights fell on the beautifal Na’vi woman picking some fruit not that far away he smirked cheekily. ‘’You know you could always go and talk to her right? She wont bite’’. Quaritch blinked and scowled, grabbing his son into a headlock and rubbing his knuckles along his head at lightning speed. Spider laughed loudly and struggled in his fathers hold, wriggling and shouting for help, and when help did come the blue mans grip became limp embarrassingly fast.

‘’And just what do you think you’re doing to him hm?’’ ___ pried the boy gently from Quaritch’s arms and placed him on the floor to run around ‘’hurting children is not something we take lightly you know’’

Well shit.

The recom felt his face flush a cute lilac shade, it spread from his nose and across his cheeks, even going to the tip of his pointed ears. How did he become so weak in the presence of a lady? The old Quaritch would have never blushed at the sight of one. But then again he isn’t the man he once was. If ___ noticed the fluster of his face she didn’t mention it, instead she grabbed the hand that was rested on his lap, intertwined their fingers and pulled him towards the fruit she was picking. 

‘’Come, I will show you how to pick yovo fruit’’ she spoke in English. Spider has been a fantastic teacher.

If the purple on his face could become any darker, it certainly has. Her hand was so warm and small…

Spider could only follow and wiggle his brows to the man discreetly. He is determined to get this ship going.

Standing at the base of the large bush ___ started to show him how to pick the berry’s, ‘’they are delicate and must be handled with care, you must not squeeze them too hard when picking’’ she picked a couple of them into her hand, threw some into the basket with the rest and gave some to both boys. Spider lifted his exopack and quickly devoured them, sliding the mask back on and chewing loudly ‘’these are good’’ he stated matter of factly with a mouthful. The outside of his lips turning purple from the pigment.

___ giggled at his antics and looked to see Quaritch’s reaction, he rolled his eyes at the boy and slowly munched on a berry. Once deemed not poisonous (he has trust issues ok) he threw the rest into his mouth. ‘’Yea, these are fucking fantastic’’ the woman could only smile in glee, happy to share more of her planet with him.

That smile..it sent his heart beating incredibly fast. He was falling in love and he knew it. How couldn’t he? When she was just so gentle and sweet with his son, when she was one of the first to help them get comfortable within the clan. He needed to invite her out, fast. He wasn’t the only one with eyes on her. He mused, eyes glancing at a small group of hunters around a fire, some of which turned their heads away quickly as they got caught.

‘’I was uh wondering’’ he coughed. This is gonna be a pain in the ass.

‘’would you like to come out with me tonight?’’ Spider swallowed the last of the fruit and blinked up at his father, smiling wide. Finally. It’s not like he’s been waiting for months.

___ blinked in surprise, not expecting this sudden offer. She wondered if he was finally asking her to be mates. Could you blame her?  A 9 ft 5’’ Na’vi warrior, recently accepted as part of the clan and was a fantastic hunter. And those muscles…

Eywa give her strength.

Her tail swished in gradual hope ‘’yes. Of course I would Miles’’ she grinned, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth in sweet shyness, the same purplish hue coating the recoms cheeks starting to spread across hers. 

Quaritch let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Fuck, why was it so hard to ask for one simple thing. Never in his life has he felt like this, not with previous hookups, not with past girlfriends and certainly not with Paz – the deceased mother of his son.

‘’alright sweetness, meet me here tonight, after eclipse’’ ___ could only swish her tail at the nickname and nodded oh so cutely. Picking up her basket she patted Spider on the head and bid them a good rest of the evening, needing to go back to her chores. 

Miles Quaritch, former human, now Na’vi, was the ultimate womaniser. He puffed his chest out and smirked to himself. He deserved a pat on the back.

Like two peas in a pod, Miles Socorro read his mind and pat his lower back (the only part the poor kid could reach)

‘’well done dad, well done’’

The sun hid behind the planet known as Polyphemus and casted darkness, but Pandora never truly sleeps.

Two blue figures where seen jumping across branches and leaping from root to root, the bioluminescent glow of the moon never ceased to fascinate the man who has never known fresh air and real plants. He looked around in awe at his surroundings and himself, lifting his hands in front of his face and taking note of all the little white dots speckled across his skin. 

___laughed joyfully and turned around ‘’Miles come’’ she beckoned him to carry on, wanting them to get to their destination as soon as possible. The recom dropped his hands and sprinted to catch up with the female, her being much more experienced with the terrain and therefore had the upper hand in their little race. 

On the way they both came across fan lizards and proceeded to disturb them, watching the light of the animal as they flew cross their faces and up into the air. Giggles sounded out throughout the forest, joyful laughs and quick inhales of breath as they finally arrived to where ___ wanted to take them. 

The tree of voices.

Both slowly crept towards the sacred space, their steps leaving glowing footprints in the grass. The tree shone beautiful pinks and purples as the hanging branches swayed ever so softly in the wind, it wasn’t the only thing that took his breath away.

There she stood, with the biggest grin on her face, eyes twinkling in the light of their surroundings and tail swinging happily. She moved to the centre of the tree ‘’this is Ultral Aymokriyä, the tree of voices’’ she whispered softly, ‘’you are a man now Miles, one of the people, you are able to hear our ancestors’’ she grabbed his hand and brought him closer to a cluster of hanging branches and connected her queue to them, inhaling as the voices of the past filled her ears.

Quaritch followed her actions and his pupils dilated at the newfound sounds, he never really believed in Eywa before, taking it up as some sort of false goddess. But this, this proves whatever he thought was wrong. ‘’They live. Within Eywa’’ the woman facing him sensed a change of air and looked up as atokirina fell slowly to land on their shoulders. She gasped and disconnected her queue, never has she thought that the great mother would bless them both tonight.

This is a sign.

Miles looked towards the atokirina and then to the love of his life and decided that she was the one for him. He walked closer to her until they where chest to chest and grabbed her face in his overly large palms ‘’___. Now that I am one of the people I am able to choose a mate’’ he felt her tense under his touch and looked straight into her eyes to look for any uncertainty ‘’you have helped me and my son in a time of need, despite us being humans, you have seen past our faults and accepted us into your arms with love’’. ___ started to tear up, not expecting this heartfelt speech.

And in such good Na’vi, thank you Spider.

‘’___.. oel ngati kameie”

The woman suddenly took his face into her own palms and connected their lips, it was soft and sweet. Both leaving them breathless and wanting more.

“Ma Miles, I see you’’

Just couple of bushes away, a little boy with blue stripes was caught lurking, watching the two blue aliens as they confessed their everlasting love. He held his breath and lifted his mask, wiping a singular tear from his eye.

His ship has finally sailed.

#✰ — avatar works — ✰ #Miles quaritch x reader #avatar miles quaritch #avatar the way of water #fanfiction #oneshot #recombinant #spider #miles socorro #x reader #na’vi #na’vi!reader #Avatar #crackfick #Fluff #soft!miles quaritch #Might be a bit ooc

[thehollowwriter]

🎻🐈👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

for all ur new twst ocs :)

Does Morrigan count as new? I'm gonna add him anyways

🎻 VIOLIN — Does your oc play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)?

Morrigan likes music, it's a very big part of mer culture, after all! He always struggled to focus during music lessons since he found them boring, but he still loves to play. He's quite skilled at the flute (intermediate) and is a very talented singer :).

Cosme plays guitar and is quite advanced! He started when he came to NRC. He's very good at it and will play for his class if they're well behaved enough.

Nkululeko does play instruments! He can play a number of Xhosa instruments (he's quite talented with the uhadi and umrhube) but also the mbira! It's not a Xhosa intrument, in fact, it is Zimbabwean, but he has recently begun learning how to play it and is a beginner. He likes music a lot and probably would've joined the Light Music Club if it weren't for Track and Field.

Timo doesn't really play instruments, but he does like to sing. Is he good? Nobody knows. He doesn't let anybody hear him. Well, Finn has heard him, but he can't remember because he was very small at the time.

🐈 CAT — Does your oc prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close friends?

Morrigan always struggled to make friends, since most people first experience his well behaved middle class personality, and then his more wild, sometimes even cruel, side later, which makes them leave since they feel he was tricking them. Nonetheless, he managed to make a few close friends, and he definitely preferred that.

Cosme prefers a few close friends. He's friends with Sam and a couple of other people outside NRC. He spills campus tea to them lmao.

Nkululeko likes a wide circle of friends! His personality gels well with most people, and they generally like him. He's also quite popular on Magicam, and he considers his followers friends in a way.

Timo also struggles to make friends, but he has a few of them that he's close to and definitely prefers it over a bunch of them that could turn on him on a whim.

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 FAMILY WITH MOTHER, FATHER, SON AND DAUGHTER — how many people are in your oc's immediate family? how many people are in your oc's extended family? do they have aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc? who in their family are they closest with? are they close with their birth family, or do they have a found family?

Morrigan has a mother, father, a few siblings, as well as a number of aunts, uncles, and cousins. No grandparents, unfortunately. And obviously, Silas is his husband. He isn't estranged from his family and loves them deeply, but he always felt rather detached from them, like they didn't really understand him and vise verse. He always felt closest to Silas.

Cosme has two adopted mothers, an adopted sister and a niece. He is very close with all of them and loves them dearly. He spoils his niece rotten ;)

Nkululeko has a father (a human from the Sunset Savanna) and a mother (a Sally Lightfoot Crab beastman from the Land of Dawning), as well as a three younger siblings who he adores and several cousins. He's especially close with his father.

Timo is an orphan. He was not fond of the girl's orphanage he grew up in at all and felt very isolated from the others, and he did not get along with the adults there. He really wanted to find work to get out of there, so he began looking around and found a couple of ads for Silas' business and applied. He did end up babysitting Finn because [insert lamentations spoilers here], and during that time, he got pretty close to Silas and views him as a father figure (he will never admit it out loud he feels too embarrased) and views Finn as his lil brother. It's kind of found family, but also kinda not at the same time.

Tagging: @theleechyskrunkly @cyanide-latte @the-banana-0verlord @officialdaydreamer00 @jovieinramshackle @cynthinesia @oya-oya-okay @skrimpyskimpy

#quinn quips #quinn answers #quinn's friends #kai #morrigan clearcove #nkululeko adrade #cosme da costa #timo byun #twisted wonderland #twst oc #oc ask game

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Olivos(Striker’s Dad)🐍

Spoiler warning, After the events of Western Energy when Striker had that talk with Stolas, it made me think he might’ve lost someone to the Goetias. And with the pattern with Blitz and Fizz’s relationships with higher rank demons, and Striker being also very vocal about that in Oops, makes me wonder if there was a connection. What if Striker lost someone close to him by a Goetia that was using them the way he assumes Blitz and Fizz are by Stolas and Asmodeus. I ended up making an OC based on that!

talked a lot with @a-sterling-rose about him and ideas!!!!

TW blood, sexual talk.

A snake imp from the Greed ring(I imagine he’d get the Wrath traits on his mother’s side) and Striker’s father. In contrast to his gunslinging assassin and macho cowboy of a son, Olivos was a kind, soft-spoken and non-confrontational imp who loved his son dearly and wanted to give him a good life and more chances than he had. He struggled to provide for himself and his son in such a cutthroat and ruthless place like Hell(I’m imagining Strikers mom is etheir dead or atleast out of the picture), but the thing he was able to benefit from the most was his looks and submissive and people-pleasing personality. Made him easy to adjust and adapt to new things….but also easy to be taken advantage of.

He, along with Striker ended up working for(and in Olivos case, was also in relations with) an Ars Goetia and let’s just say Stolas isn’t the first Goetia to be attracted to Imps. He was basically the Goetia’s arm candy, acting as a personal escort to keep company for social events, to present as a status symbol, with the addition of helping with more…intimate events…

Their relationship was like what Striker assumes Blitz and Fizz’s relationships r with Stolas and Ozzie, or even a nicer(but still not healthy version of Mammon’s relationship with Fizzarolli as shown in the latest ep), treated as a plaything, to use for own benefit, to enjoy the lower class as a cheap thrill, lacking Stolas and Ozzie’s true genuine devotion and care and treating Olivos more like a pampered pet. Although Olivos was treated to some of the luxury and security the life an Ars Goetia can provide, said Goetia didn’t truly care for how he felt or what he wanted or needed…even as a kid, Striker knew this wasn’t the greatest place for his dad and wanted to get him out of it.

With that said, he always assured Striker not to worry for his situation and supported him to follow his dreams and show the world what he can do, regardless of what rank he is in Hell’s Rings. With all things considered, things were atleast…liveable…until news about his relations with the Goetia were starting to heat up and in order to save face, had him…disposed of.

All that remained was his grieving son who became bent on destroying the Ars Goetia and show his pa he was right about him being able to do things that their kind thought was impossible….or think shouldn't be done…

for his design, I was going for something revealing and seductive as he was desired by the Goetia for that, but also something classy, of high status. I based the cuffs on the ones Blitz had on during his bad trip and went with purple for the Ars Goetia.

His names Olivo is an Italian name, meaning someone who sells olives🫒 for his scale color, olives having positive symbolism such as for peace, and going on the idea of the Greed ring having Italian coding like the Wrath ring having a lot of Western and Latin coding. The s is an add to him being a sssnake🐍🐍🐍

What do u think? What do u think is Striker’s whole deal with the Ars Goetia? I’d love to know💖

#Helluva boss #helluva boss spoilers #Striker #hb striker #helluva boss striker #Helluva boss fanart #hb spoilers #olivos #hb olivos #Oc #my ocs #my ocs art #my art

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Fire camp (AO3)

Carlos' nephew wants to go camping with the new crew from station 126, Carlos goes along as chaperone. - Different first meeting AU

written for @tarlosweeklyprompts prompt of the day: Camp (I'm not even going to pretend I remember what day this was originally for)

A/N: I really struggled with this one, but I hope you guys like it.

---

“Fire camp? Did you put him up to this?”

“No, a firefighter came to our school and showed us all kinds of cool stuff!”

“Cool stuff? Like what?”

“Like what to do if there’s a fire in the kitchen.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“It’s not! I want to go! Please mama! All of my friends are going and tío Carlos said it’s ok!”

“Oh did he now?”

“I’m sure they’ve taken every precaution to keep the kids safe. And it says parents are welcome too.” Carlos said, trying to placate his sister. He loved her and his nephew dearly but he didn’t want to get dragged into the middle of whatever the latest drama was. 

He’d agreed to pick Samuel up from school for her but that was as far as his uncle duties went as far as he was concerned.

Camila turned her attention back to the flyer.

“Do you know any of these people from station 126?” she asked him.

“Not really. There’s a whole new crew after the old one was… lost… on a call that went south.” Carlos explained, trying to keep things vague enough so his nephew wouldn’t catch on.

“So they’re all new to Austin and I’m supposed to hand over my nine year old to them?”

“I’m almost ten!”

“Not the point, Samuel. I don’t know these people, and they don’t know us or the city. I don’t think it’s safe.”

“Cami, they’re firefighters. It’s their job to rescue people.”

“Yes, rescue, not keep safe.”

“I know they have a medical side to the station too. Paramedics.”

“Who also only show up when people are in trouble.”

“What if tío Carlos came too? He’s a policeman, they protect people. Right tío Carlos?”

Carlos resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The kid was getting way too smart for his own good.

“Yes… but I have to work. And this camp is for kids only. Ages 8-12. I’m a little older.”

“I don’t know… if it’s mental age you should fit right in.” Camila said, daring her little brother to hit back with a dig of his own.

Carlos gave her a fake smile but let the comment slide.

“But they allow moms and dads to come too. So you and your mom can go together and she can see all the cool stuff they’ll teach you.”

“Oh no, I’m not sleeping in a tent in the middle of nowhere.” Camila told them and then turned to her son. “You can go if you can get tío Carlos to come with. I’m sure they could use a policeman to help out.”

“Please tío Carlos, please, please, please.” Samuel begged.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do.” Carlos sighed. “I have to get to work now but I’ll stop by there afterwards and ask if I can help.”

“Can I come?”

“I have to work Samu. I don’t finish work until 8 tomorrow morning.”

“That’s when I have to go to school.”

“Exactly. And isn’t your dad coming to see you later? He’ll be disappointed if he came all this way for nothing.” Carlos reasoned. “I’ll text your mom as soon as I know anything. I promise.”

After saying his goodbyes to his sister and nephew, Carlos quickly headed home to change for his shift, only to realise he got the days mixed up and his schedule didn’t change to overnights until tomorrow.

He debated what to do with his free evening for a while before deciding to head to the firehouse and offer his help for the fire camp.

He’d been inside the old station 126 a few times to follow up after scenes both AFD and APD had been called to, but he’d never paid much attention to what the place looked like.

This time when he walked in, the first thing he noticed was a giant memorial for the fallen firefighters and what he could see from the rest of the firehouse, looked like something out of a magazine.

“Hello?” he called out when he didn’t see anyone. “Is anyone around?”

“Hey, can I help you?” a man of around his age jumped down from one of the trucks. Carlos had to remind himself how to breathe when he took a good look at him. He was gorgeous, with a smile that somehow lit up the room and green eyes that were sparkling.

“Uh yeah… I uh… saw the flyer about the fire camp thing you guys have coming up. I was wondering if you needed a pair of extra hands.”

“Are you a firefighter?”

“Uh no, I’m a cop. But I’m good with crowd control. I have experience with handling difficult people so 8-12 year olds… shouldn’t be that much of a challenge. Hopefully.”

The man laughed.

“Alright, wait here officer, I’ll go get the captain. He’s the one who came up with the idea to organise something for the local kids to get to know the community.” He turned around and walked out of the bay. “I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later the man returned with what Carlos assumed to be the captain in tow. He gestured at him from a distance and disappeared into the firehouse again.

“Hi. Owen Strand, captain of the 126. What can I do for you?” The captain walked up to him and shook his hand.

“I’m Carlos Reyes, I’m with the APD… I saw your flyer for the kids camp next weekend and I was wondering if you needed some extra help.”

“You’re volunteering to spend a weekend with a group of 8-12 year olds? I had to practically force most of my crew.” The captain said and Carlos shrugged.

“My nephew really wants to go and my sister won’t let him without supervision… and the real challenge will be spending the weekend with a group of firefighters. Red and blue are rivals in this city.”

“Not in my house, not in my camp. We’re all family here.” Captain Strand insisted. “But we’d be happy to have you on board… Carlos was it?”

“Yes sir. Carlos Reyes.”

“Come on up to my office, Carlos, so I can write down your contact information and fill you in on the details.”

They walked further into the firehouse and up some stairs leading to some kind of common room where a group of firefighters were gathered.

“Is he a new recruit?” Someone asked as they walked past.

“Nope. Sorry Mateo, you’re still the probie.” Captain Strand replied and the group burst out laughing.

Fifteen minutes later Carlos had given Captain Strand his name and phone number and made his way out of the firehouse again.

“So, are you going camping with the crew on Saturday?” The man from before suddenly appeared next to him right before he walked out of the building.

“Uh yeah, looks like it. Will you be there too?”

“Looks like it.” He said with a smile. “Cap’s making us all go to bond with the community or something… but suddenly I don’t mind so much anymore.” He held out his hand. “I’m TK.”

“TK? Is that short for something?”

“Yes it is.”

Carlos waited for him to explain but he didn’t say anything.

“Are you going to tell me what it stands for?”

“Not right now. Not when you haven’t even told me your name.”

“Carlos. Reyes.”

“Officer Carlos Reyes. I’ll make sure to remember that. See you Saturday.”

“So you’re still not going to tell me what TK stands for?”

TK grinned.

“Nope. You’ll have to earn it. Bye officer Reyes.”

The next few days Carlos did his best to put firefighter TK out of his mind and focus on his job and just get on with his life.

Only the fact that his nephew wouldn’t stop talking about how cool the camp was going to be, and how cool the firefighters were, meant that station 126, and one member of the crew especially, was constantly on Carlos’ mind.

Even Camila had caught on and under the guise of checking out just who they would be going camping with, she’d cyber stalked the AFD and found station 126. Apparently one of the firefighters was a social media star and TK a willing participant in her videos.

“He’s cute. Just your type.” She told Carlos, when he came to pick Samuel up and the boy went to pack his stuff.

“I don’t have a type.” Carlos argued. “And even if I did, I don’t even know if he’s into guys. Or into me.”

“He’s into guys.” Camila said, tapping her phone screen.

“How do you know? Does he look gay or something?”

“No. It’s in his bio. And there are pictures of him at pride. He’s from New York. The captain is his dad. I’ll send you the link to his profile.”

“I’m going to be spending the next 24 hours with the guy, I don’t need you to stalk him for me.”

“You’re going to be spending the next 24 hours watching my kid and make sure he comes home in one piece. Don’t get distracted by pretty boys.”

Carlos rolled his eyes.

“We’re going camping just outside the city. It’s close to the ranch actually.”

“Oh so you can introduce your new boyfriend to mom and dad right away.”

“Shut up. I’ve barely said three words to the guy. And I’m supposed to watch your kid, remember? Samu are you done yet? We have to go!” He said, directing the last part at Samuel.

The last thing he needed was his parents knowing anything about his love life.

Or lack thereof.

By the time they got to the camp site, it was starting to get busy. People were setting up tents and some of the firefighters he’d seen at the station were playing games with the kids.

TK however seemed nowhere to be found.

Carlos almost immediately lost Samuel to his friends, leaving him to set up their tent alone.

He sighed but got on with the job. It’s not like he’d really expected a nine year old to be much help anyway.

Only putting up a tent on his own proved to be more of a challenge than he’d thought.

He was just about to give up and convince Samuel sleeping under the stars would be the ultimate camping experience when he heard someone walking up to him.

“You look like you could use a hand.”

“Uh yeah, that would be great thanks.” Carlos said, crawling out from under the tarp, and staring up at TK’s smiling face. “Hi…”

“Hi yourself.” TK replied, amused, before kneeling down beside Carlos. “I’m not sure how much use I’ll be though. I’m from NYC, I don’t exactly have much experience with camping or putting up tents.”

“Right. Well… I appreciate the help anyway.”

“And if we get stuck, we can always ask Judd. He put ours up in about 10 minutes flat.” TK said and noticed Carlos looking past him to try figure out who Judd was. “The big guy. Texas personified. We’re sharing a tent because he thinks he needs to keep an eye on me. For some reason he thinks I’m going to get up to no good if he doesn’t.”

“Oh. And is he right to think that?”

“Maybe.” TK said with a grin. “I have been known to give into temptation every now and then.”

Carlos smiled and together they worked to put up the tent.

TK wasn’t much help but Carlos enjoyed being close to him and getting to know him a little while they worked.

“So… what about you?” TK started after telling him a bad break up made him decide to follow his dad to Texas. “Anyone waiting for you at home? That cute kid’s mom maybe?”

“Oh she’s definitely waiting for us at home. And demanding updates on what we’re doing… but she’s also my sister. Samuel is my nephew.”

“So you’re the cool uncle taking him camping with a bunch of firefighters and paramedics?”

“I was kind of forced into it… but I’m having a good time so far.”

“Likewise.”

Together they managed to get the tent up without too much trouble and when they were done they sat down in the grass in front of it.

“I’d offer you a beer but…” Carlos opened a cooler and took out a can of coke. “This is all I’ve got.”

TK smiled and accepted the drink.

“It’s fine. I’m not much of a drinker anyway. I get into enough trouble without throwing booze in the mix.” He said, turning serious.

“Really? Should I be worried about having to arrest you?” Carlos teased, trying to lighten the mood. He didn’t know what was bothering TK but he wanted to keep him smiling.

The corners of TK’s mouth turned up a little as he fiddled with the lid of his can.

“I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour this weekend.”

“Pity.” Carlos commented and took a sip of his drink.

TK raised an eyebrow at him.

“Officer are you suggesting I shouldn’t be a law abiding citizen?”

“I’m not suggesting anything.” Carlos said innocently. “And I’m not on duty so I’m just Carlos today. Tío Carlos to him.” He nodded at a group of kids Samuel was with who were busy with some kind of dance routine with Paul and Marjan.

“Hey guys, we’re doing a dance challenge Marj found online. Come join in.” Paul called out to them while Marjan tried to get the rest of the crew and some of the parents to join in.

“I don’t know the steps.” TK replied. “Carlos and I will just go look for firewood in a minute. You guys keep doing your thing.”

“Neither do I, but it’s fun. Come on.” Paul tried again.

“I’m not really a dance challenge kind of guy.” TK told him before turning to Carlos. “I used to play guitar. I’m pretty sure my mom still has my guitar in her attic somewhere.”

“Really? My dad plays too, if I’d known I would have brought his guitar out here.”

TK shook his head.

“I haven’t played in years. I’m not sure I even remember how to.”

“I’ve been told it’s like riding a bike.”

“I haven’t done that in years either.” TK said and they both laughed.

“Guys, come on, come join us! It’s fun!” This time it was Captain Strand trying to convince them to join the group. Almost all of the kids had joined in as well as some of the parents.

“Tío Carlos, come dance with us!” Samuel yelled while apparently effortlessly keeping up with the routine.

“In a minute.” Carlos promised and watched them for a moment before turning to TK. “It’s just line dancing. It’s not that complicated. I can teach you.”

“You know line dancing?”

“I’m Texas born and raised. It’s kind of hard not to.” Carlos said with a shrug. “My aunt was really into it for a while and she and my mom got really competitive.  Me and my sisters and cousins all had to learn when we were younger. My sister even won medals. There is a bar in town that has line dancing nights. It’s fun. I still do it every now and then.”

“Really? Do you wear a cowboy hat and the boots and everything?”

“For special occasions.” Carlos winked and got up. “Do you want to come dance?”

TK hesitated for a moment but then let Carlos pull him to his feet.

“Lead the way.”

~ three years later ~

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” TK said, cheeks hurting from smiling all day.

“If I recall correctly you didn’t need much convincing.” Carlos replied with a grin.

“That’s because you played dirty.” TK grabbed the cowboy hat from Carlos’ head and put it on his own. “You look way too good in that.”

“You wanted me to wear it.”

“Well it is a special occasion isn’t it?”

Carlos smiled and tipped the hat back so he could kiss TK.

“Yes it is.”

A microphone beeped and when they looked up they saw Gabriel and Owen argue over who could use it first.

“Should we do something?” TK sighed.

“Nah. Let them. Mama will deal with them.” Carlos said, slipping his hands under TK’s suit jacket to get his attention back on him.

They were close enough to catch a few words when Andrea indeed took it upon herself to deal with the two fathers. Carlos was pretty sure he heard some Spanish curses she would have grounded him for using as a kid.

“And now, the happy couple would like to invite you all to join them on the dancefloor, and celebrate their marriage, Texas style.” Camila had taken the microphone from Gabriel and Owen. “Welcome to the family TK, you’re a true Texan now.”

TK tipped his hat at her as the music changed from their carefully selected playlist to something straight out of the jukebox at the honkytonk.

“Do you think you remember the steps this time?” Carlos asked as they got in line with all of their guests.

“I don’t know. You might have to help me.” TK replied. “I’m feeling very forgetful today.”

Carlos lovingly rolled his eyes at his new husband but stepped behind him and put his hands on his hips to guide him through the steps, just like he’d done that first day at the campsite.

Even though this time around TK definitely didn’t need any help.

He put his chin on TK’s shoulder and dropped a kiss in his neck.

“And you say I’m the one playing dirty.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #twpmarchdailyword #tk strand #carlos reyes #lets see if tumblr will allow it in the tags with links

[cienie-isengardu]

My SW theories/RepCom Musing: Jango Fett and Walon Vau

The Republic Commando books series mentioned here and there that Walon and Jango were closer than Kal and Jango ever had. This is even more interesting if we take into account that the same books made it clear that Vau openly cares only about Mird - and the strill “would defend Vau to the last. It always had.” and “had stood by him since boyhood” [True Colors] what at this point means literal decades now - while struggling with expressing emotions and pride toward his Delta boys (“They were the best special forces troops in the galaxy, and here Vau was, still unable to manage the thank you or well done that they deserved.”) even though he didn’t have much problem to admitting that in fact he did care for them to Etain (“Do you see your men as your sons?" "Of course I do. I have no others.”, [Triple Zero]) or Kal (“Do you think he knew, Kal? [...] Sev. I never told him I was proud of him, and I was. Did he know I loved him every bit as much as you love your boys?”[Order 66]). 

In True Colors, Walon himself admitted to “had little time for anyone else, regardless of species” with the exception of Mird, the men of the Grand Army and most likely Jango Fett, for whom he agreed to train army for around decade on Kamino, cut away from the outside world and maybe even Kal Skirata for whatever reason Walon decided to involve him into Jango’s secret project.

The Prima Guide outright described Vau as “borderline sociopathic” - although the little research I did doesn’t sound whole fitting with what we known about Walon (and to be honest, some symptoms/signs sounds more like Kal Skirata than him) but generally speaking, I think we could agree that Walon falls into Antisocial Personality Disorder and thus is not a person that easily forms relationships with other people - he cares about some, but is emotionally stunned, introverted, closed off.

He and Kal managed to bond over the common purpose of saving clone troopers and both went a long way from despiting each other to become close as one Mandalorian could be to another. Both are also influenced by their lasting traumas and the effects can be seen in how they interact with other people (Kal being protective of his “found family”, having some bias toward women and criminal tendencies, Vau not getting emotionally invested for most of time, struggling with putting positive emotions into words of praise for his boys).

Now, let’s talk about Jango. The same as Walon and Kal, Jango’s life was full of misery and hardship that at some (post-Galidraan) point transformed him into a man maintaining little emotional connection to other living beings. The most known exception to this rule was of course little Boba Fett.

The novelization of Attack of the Clones did not include much of Open Seasion’s backstory but all the same underlined Fett’s dispassionate nature.

Quiet moments within the tumult that had been Jango Fett's entire life, surviving the trials of the Outer Rim alone practically from the day he learned to walk. Each trial had made him stronger, had made him more perfect, had honed the skills that he would now pass along to Boba. There was no one better in all the galaxy to teach his son. When Jango Fett wanted you caught, you were caught. When Jango Fett wanted you dead, you were dead.

No, not when Jango "wanted" those things. This was never personal. The hunting, the killing, it was all a job, and among the most valuable of lessons Jango had learned early on was how to become dispassionate. Completely so. That was his greatest weapon.

He looked at Taun We, then turned to grin at his son. Jango could be dispassionate, except for those times when he could spend time alone with Boba. With Boba, there was pride and there was love, and Jango had to work constantly to keep both of those potential weaknesses at a minimum. While he loved his son dearly-because he loved his son dearly-Jango had been teaching him those same attributes of dispassion, even callousness, from his earliest days.

Internal memo penned by Hali Ke, senior research geneticist, Kamino, 27 BBY (source) also points out Jango’s disdain for human relationship and his asocial yet complex nature: 

I have now logged many sessions with our prime clone Jango Fett, and concluded that he embodies his species’ contradictions. He is a killer many times over, ending the life of others without hesitation if paid to do so, yet his anger was obvious when I suggested he lacked morality. He is one of the most able, competent humans I have ever observed, remaining calm in situations that would leave most organics helpless with terror. Yet he witnessed horrors in his childhood that he will not discuss, and around which his mind has constructed apparently impenetrable barriers.

Jango is given to solitude and affects a disdain for human relationships and connections, yet when he agreed to help train our army, he immediately summoned a band of mercenaries who shared his background. And, of course, there is the matter of his fee: Jango seemed barely to care for the considerable sum of five million credits, but was adamant that we create an unaltered clone of himself, whom he now refers to — without a trace of self-consciousness — as his son. I have seen him return to Kamino after killing men for credits, wash the blood out of his starship’s hold, and an hour later be gently talking and playing with young Boba.

(The other trait often mentioned by sources was Jango’s anger that kept him going on despite all tragedies that happened to him, but that deserves a separate analyze in regard to Vau’s training methods and Atin)

There is no one right way for a human to deal with trauma and people process their emotional and psychological problems in various ways. Walon and Jango learned to close off, to cut away the unnecessary emotions and keep to minimal human relationship with exception to Mird and Boba, respectively. 

Considering how much Kal was an emotional, extrovert-type of person with strong opinions he liked rant about compared to the two other Mandalorians, it is no wonder that Walon and Jango had better understanding going on between them. Of course, the sources are insufficient to say for sure why and how close they were in the first place but considering the fact that Vau helped Fett to pick up the training sergeants (and by logic, needed to be one of the first if not literally the first to be contacted by Jango), I think it is correct to assume Walon had Jango’s trust and was privy to some of inner matters in regard to clones. 

The Republic Commando book series put a lot of blame on Kaminoans for clone troopers' misery, which in itself is true of course. But the additional information put in the game (loading screens) brought an interesting matter to consider. 

According to Taun We, Jango insisted to continue training despite significial fatalities so the “weak” clones could be eliminated. Jango's true goal was to create a capable army so when the right time comes, Dooku and his Sith Master could destroy the Jedi Order. Walon Vau did not know it then and connected the dots after Order 66 was issued by Chancellor Palpatine. 

He however could be privy to Jango’s demands to keep the deadly exercises running without regard for clone troopers’ safety. On one hand, Walon understood the necessity of danger, as he said himself: 

On another note, Jango’s insistence to “culling the weak” could be also the vital factor why Vau was so harsh with his trainees and pushed them beyond their limits. Though I do suspect, he may not tell Skirata about Jango’s personal contribution to the deadly program - yes, Skirata was angry at Jango for selling his genes and not caring for the clones beside Boba but the book series did not seem imply that Mandalorian in question was aware of this little detail? Otherwise Kal and Jango could be on even worse terms.

One thing that always struck me about wording, either in POV paragraphs or the Vau’s arguments with Skirata, is how often his commandos are described as “survivors” - or generally speaking the emphasis is on “alive” rather than just the best soldiers. Like Walon really prioritized their survival over the performance.

Skirata gave him the palm-down gesture: Leave it. "Stay useful, Walon." He beckoned Jusik and Ordo to follow him. "And I hope that Atin's moved on too, because I won't stand in his way now." 

"How far is too far, Kal? Can you answer that? How far did you go?" Vau called after him. "I made that boy a warrior. Without me, he wouldn't be alive today." 

With him, Ordo thought, Atin very nearly wasn't.

[Triple Zero]

or

[Etain]  turned to Vau. "Do you see your men as your sons?" 

"Of course I do. I have no others. It's why I made them into survivors. Don't think I don't love them just because I don't spoil them like kids." 

[Triple Zero]

or

The Sickener, they called it. One more endurance test to make sure they could face conditions that would break and kill lesser men, crawling through a ditch filled with rotting nerf guts. 

But there were more tests to come. A night out in Fest-like temperatures; no sleep for three days, maybe more; scant water, a full sixty-kilo pack, and blistering heat; and a lot of pain. Pain, pitiless verbal abuse, and humiliation. A captured commando could expect brutal interrogation. They had to be able to cope without breaking, and it took some imagination to test that to the limit. 

How far is too far, Kal? 

Vau was much more detached about handing out all that punishment than Skirata could ever be. It was very hard to hurt your sons, even if it helped them survive the unsurvivable.

[Triple Zero]

or

 "I raised you to survive. Don't humiliate me by going soft." [True Colors]

or

Skirata remembered it, and didn't want to. It was training that had to be done. It broke his heart, but it was going to be all that stood between those boys and death sooner or later. They had to be able to face the unimaginable, and-yes, there were even worse things than charging a line of droids with your comrades. 

    There were the things you might have to face alone, in a locked room, with no hope of rescue. 

    Maybe Vau was right. Perhaps trainees needed to be brutalized beyond the point where they were just brave, pushed into a state of existence where they became animals intent only on survival. That was how Vau had nearly killed Atin. It was why Skirata had then gone after Vau and nearly killed him.

[Triple Zero]

or

Vau wasn't used to anything other than instant obedience from his squads. He'd drummed it into them on Kamino, the hard way when necessary. Skirata thought you built special forces soldiers by treats and pats on the head, but it just produced weaklings; Vau's squads had the lowest casualty rates because he reinforced the animal will lo survive in every man. He was proud of it.

"You did," Boss said, "but you look like you need a hand. Anyway-you're not our sergeant any longer. Technically speaking. No disrespect... Citizen Vau." 

    I was hard on them because I cared. Because they had to be hard to survive. Kal never understood that, the fool. 

    Vau still had trouble breathing some days thanks to the broken nose Skirata had given him. The crazy little chakaar didn't understand training at all.

[True Colors]

or

Sev rumbled again. "I still reckon he killed Ko Sai. And I still reckon he got her research, and that's why he killed her, to shut her up. So yeah, I'd bet on him finding a way to stop us aging so fast."

Scorch suspected that Vau was as deeply involved in the death of Kamino's renegade cloner as Skirata; he was still fiercely loyal to Vau, because the man was the reason Delta were all still alive today, one of a handful of squads that had survived intact since the Kamino days. Vau raised survivors. [Order 66]

Walon Vau’s methods were brutal to the point he was sometimes called Old Psycho. But, at the same time, he is so far the only one Mandalorian sarge we know about whose whole batch survived training on Kamino up to battle of Geonosis - and then, somewhere to the first year of anniversary of mentioned battle, lost only three men (Atin’s original squad).

"I've lost just three men out of my batch, Kal. That tells me a lot about my methods." 

"So I lost fourteen. You making a point?" 

"You made yours soft. They don't have that killer edge." 

“No, I didn't brutalize mine like you did yours, you hut 'uun."

[Triple Zero]

According to Making the man: selection and training [Star Wars Insider 84], the single training sergeant had either 25 or 26 squads (four members each) under their supervision.  Which means that Walon trained 100 or 104 commandos for 8 years and either none died [according to Triple Zero] or only three cadets died [according to Hard Contact]* in the harsh program nor he killed anyone accidentally during live ammo training (like Skirata did). Additionally, the same article stated that half of 10.000 clone commandos died in the first few months of the war, “largely due to being deployed initially by inexperienced generals as infantry troops rather than as Special Forces”.  Considering all of this, Vau’s record is pretty impressive if all his squads (beside Atin’s original one) survived intact the worst few months when many other commandos died. 

Of course, we can’t forget his methods alone were brutal and Atin got some of the worst of it:

“Vau nearly killed me, so when I finally got out of the bacta tank, I said I'd kill him one day. Fair enough, yes?" [Triple Zero]

and how Walon pushed harder those who seemed to him not good enough:

“Look, if Vau felt you lacked the killer edge, he'd crank it up a little. He'd make you fight your brother. We had a choice. We could fight each other until one was too badly hurt to stand up, or we could fight him." [Triple Zero]

Walon’s brutality and its effect on his boys deserved a separate analysis so for now, important is how Jango was all for “curling the weak” while Vau was set on to raise survivors no matter what. If Vau was privy to inner matters concerning clone training - and Jango’s part in that - I think it is safe to assume he trained his boys in a way they could pass Jango’s high standard and demands.

Surprisingly there is no(?) source implying Fett was displeased with Vau’s brutality - something Kal Skirata personally despited for years - even though we know Jango intervened in the case of Dread Priest’s secret fighting circle due to Mij’s complains. Quite the opposite, it actually looks like Fett was pretty impressive and satisfied with Vau’s results

Jango literally compared Vau’s Delta Squad to his own charges, the Alpha class ARC, who by design were supposed to be better than the commandos and who he trained personally which also raise a serious question about Jango's own training methods.

The traits he praised, them being deadly, relentless, antisocial and aggressive makes it sounds like Jango and Vau had similar ideas of what the clone special forces should be. Especially the “asocial” is interesting, because this is a personal trait that Fett and Vau share but one that is not actually that good in soldiers. Of course, most squads will work alone, just four brothers against the world, but Triple Zero showed that melting two different teams for one joint operation wasn’t that easy task and Deltas for sure kept their asocial nature as much as it was possible through the whole war.

There is a lot things we don’t know in regard to Jango Fett and Walon Vau, but it seems that character-wise, they understood each other well and instead of blaming Jango for his approach to clones (curling the weak) like Skirata would do, Vau was willing to went a far way to ensure his boys will be ready for whatever Kaminoans (and Jango) had planned for them and survive no matter what, even if he alone died in the process.

Scorch slapped down his own curiosity and told it to behave. He didn't care how Vau knew. He was just glad that he did and he trusted him, because Vau's words always came back to him from those first days on Kamino.

Everything I do from this moment on is to make sure you survive to fight. Even if I don't. [Order 66]

And this brings us to the one thing we know for sure about Walon’s feelings toward Jango. All the brutal training, all the need to create survivors so Vau’s batch will pass Jango’s high expectations and meet his approval may comes from this:

 "I let him down once." Vau would never shake off that feeling of having failed, the legacy of his vile father. He'd instilled it into his clones, despite himself. "But I never let him down again." [Order 66]

**EDIT**

As was pointed out to me, Atin lost his first squad during training on Kamino according to Hard Contact:

Atin was holding his rifle carefully, a handspan clear of his chest. "I've been the last man left standing in two squads now." 

    "Oh." Silence. Niner prompted: "Want to tell me how?"

"First squad tried to rescue me on a live range exercise. I didn't need rescuing. Not that badly, anyway." 

    "Ah." Niner felt instantly appalled at himself for thinking Atin didn't care what happened to Darman. He was just caring too much. "My training sergeant said there was something called survivor's guilt. He also said that in those cases, having you survive was what your squad wanted."

My fault for not checking the first book and relying solely on Triple Zero although now I wonder if this some sort of divergence between both books or did I misread the text so bad...?

#star wars #walon vau #jango fett #republic commando #delta squad #walon vau & jango fett #i so badly wish there was more info about walon vau & jango fett #they both are asocial and emotionally closed off #compared especially to more emotional Kal Skirata #and despite the age difference #about like 15-20 years? #vau cared so much for not letting jango down ever again? #to the point he pushed and pushed and pushed his batch to their limits and beyond #so they survive and meet jango's demands while not having a clue what was jango's true motive? #there is some solid background to examine #also trauma people trauma for everyone #mandalorians #are cool and all but full of trauma no less #kinda no wonder why kal and jango did not get along #but also it is me or vau was the best jango's man on kamino? #i know i did not go morally judging here on vau's brutality because it wasn't the point of meta #but it is interesting that jango was okay with vau's methods as far as we know but went for dread priest #mandalorians are pathological society i guess

[sundropglass]

Hi Mr. H. Do you have a system member you'd like to share more about? <3

Thank you dear, for the prompt addressing me. I tried answering this before about Til, and fell asleep immediately ^^; so let me choose someone else

I’ll talk a bit on Kale.

Kale(inwardly known as Peter Cottontail, but he picked up the name Kale for ease of differing between our character Peter and of Peter the part) is one of our many green parts. By that we mean that he’s one of the protectors/supporting parts (others include Til, Cerberus, and Percy) He can come off very sharp and persecutory, but his intentions are protective at heart.

At first we thought he was an introject of an OC we just happened to know nearly everything about one day. Its kind of an opposite, however. We were making Kale in OC form without realizing it, and he came out as himself as a part after we found Belle and Nana. (He is actually an introject, but in the more classic introjection-of-someone-who-hurt-us way)

In the OC canon, he’s a rebel who struggles with his very obvious PTSD, even going so far as to have an emotional part who comes out and compulsively makes him run away from home with the intention of getting lost and keeping his loved ones at a safe distance. We were already struggling with all these things but never put two and two together until much later, actually. Partially due to the memory loss surrounding his flighty moments.

Kale is close to me(Mr. H) but not in a friendly or relational way. More that the line between us blurs a lot and when I’m triggered, I can either seem like him or switch entirely with Kale. We don’t get along very well anymore, but I love him as my son dearly.

Another way we relate interestingly is our tastes in food. To him, chicken tastes like fish. And to me, all milk products taste sour. We didn’t realize any correlation until we were talking to Chime about how tastes differ between parts and they said something along the lines of “that sounds like you both taste things like they’re spoiled,” Genuinely don’t know where that comes from or why, but I’m guessing it might be a trauma thing. Either way it’s very inconvenient.

Kale is very treasured as a protective part, and his sense of justice for our system is very necessary in healing from being gaslit especially. He’s been having the biggest ‘I told you so’ moment since we recently cut it off with a foul friend too, so.. good for him

#mr h tag #did posting on not main #kale tag #thank you very much for the ask #ask directed to parts are always welcome even if they take some time to answer #the falling asleep thing is the Flower’s makn coping mechinism and brushing up against something between them and til caused something..

[mysteriousdoll]

Quietness Isn’t Always The Blessing One Hopes It To Be

Another post inspired by @incoherentramblings (with a bit of my own headcanons included… lots of Kiyoshi and Taka focus here…. And in hindsight, this was more angsty than I meant for it to be. Hurt and little comfort… Kiyoshi is super fun to write tho!!)

Silence was something Kiyoshi was always thankful for. It was rare for her children to be quiet, they were all so lively. Make no mistake, she loved them all dearly, but she took plenty of joy when the house was quiet. However, this wasn’t a case in which all the children were quiet. Only one of them is. Gundham and Celeste were discussing how the school year had gone for them, Gundham having finished his second year and Celeste and Taka having finished their first. Reko and Alice were plenty happy to talk about the two’s respective school years. And Kiyoshi loved hearing about how well things went. Gundham’s entire class had gotten along, which she was more than thankful for considering that he often struggled with making friends. And, according to her, Celeste’s entire class adored her.

However… Taka remained silent. If silence was rare in her home, Taka being wordless was like finding a diamond in a haystack. He always had something to say, always had some new theory he wanted to talk about. Why he got so excited to talk about his interests was a little concerning, but it was sweet when the topic was permitted.

She couldn’t just ask him. She knew her son, and she knew if something was going on, he wouldn’t divulge. While she wasn’t sure where he got the idea, it was ingrained into his mind that him venting was a bother to everyone—that he had no right to talk about his problems. That his being was an inconvenience. She had to approach him about this subtly. Keep it related to the topic at hand. The moment a dip of quiet presented itself in the conversation, she shot.

“How has the school year gone for you, Taka?”

He flinched. …Taka flinched at a simple question. This wasn’t the response she anticipated. Even Celeste seemed shocked by this, but she was quick to look the other way.

“….fine. I’ve managed to remain top of my class all year.”

No excitement? No adorable ‘hahahaha!’? Not even an exclamation of how happy he was? He didn’t even sound happy. He sounded… tired. In their winter break, he had mentioned a friend being made… a single friend. Taka always struggled to make friends… but surely he had made others, right?

“Tia said your class is pretty nice. Have you gotten close with anyone other than Oowada?” Reko asked. It was as though she had taken a direct jab at him. For a brief moment, Taka’s eyes appeared glossy… but he blinked away the tears starting to form. It was rare he could stop himself from crying. The sight was all the more heartbreaking when Taka shook his head. An entire school year… and he had only made one friend?

“Wait, you don’t hang out with Mondo’s buds?” Alice asked—all but vocally responding to the glare shot his way from Kiyoshi.

“They don’t really like me. I suppose I cannot blame them, haha,” his laugh was so weak, so forced. “I’m not exactly… likable.”

Kiyoshi felt a burning sensation of anger and pain, to know Taka was hurting like this, and he just… didn’t say anything. He was such a sweet boy, and she knew just how much he did for his class. He was not only the class representative, but their class president as well… of course part of that was due to no one caring about the positions. Not to mention all of the event planning he did.

That thought kicked it all off. Kiyoshi better put together what the case was. Upon thinking about it, he didn’t do anything but stay in his room studying and planning on their last break… and did the same on weekends, based on what Celestia told her. Surely he wasn’t being bullied, even with her avoiding being associated with him, there’s no way Celeste would let that happen.

Unless she, too, didn’t know about it.

Her mind drifting backfired on her. Seemingly judgmental eyes all upon him, Kiyotaka left the room. He ignored his siblings protests, and Kiyoshi’s demand to come back.

While she was shocked for Taka, out of all her children, to disobey her, she was more concerned about how he was holding up. So, instructing the others to not eavesdrop (even is she knew they were going to), she followed Taka’s lead, knocking, and entering the room shortly after him.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” she sat by him. He was silent for a moment, before the tears he had kept down made their way out. It would be a moment before he could speak… and so she waited.

“What… what’s wrong with me?”

That wasn’t a question she wanted to hear. It wasn’t one she had an answer for. Perhaps it was bias, but she didn’t see what was wrong with him.

“Kiyotaka, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“There must be. No matter what I do or don’t do, everyone hates me. It’s middle school all over again!”

That was a sore subject… more for Taka than for her, no doubt. Though she just couldn’t think about that without getting scared. She didn’t want to think about nearly losing him again. With that mention she no longer hesitated to hug him.

“I’m sure they don’t hate you, they just . . . Don’t see how wonderful you are. They’ll come around, I’m sure of it. Just give them time,” she rubbed his back, but his mood did not change.

“What if they don’t?”

“Then the right people will come along as time passes. You’ve got your family, and Oowada.”

#doll writes something #tbh the ending isn’t good bc I wrote myself into a hole #sorry if the yttd aren’t written super well but I’m not they familiar w it #kiyotaka ishimaru #kiyoshi Ishimaru #celestia Ludenberg #cw bullying mention #cw implied suicide attempt #gundham tanaka #i guess? #he’s mentioned #reko yabusame #alice yabusame #danganronpa #thh

[lesbiten]

Hate to hop into your asks and drop this on you but god I am inspired by your walls of text tonight. I agree wholeheartedly with everything you said. The way that people dumb Fiddleford in particular down to just some hillbilly that dated Ford in a traditional romantic relationship is honestly wrong in so many ways. I won’t get into all of them for the sake of time and you reading this, which if you do, thank you so much. Something a lot of people fail to realize is that especially with the kind of abuse Ford received growing up (from Filbrick primarily but also the other children of Glass Shard Beach), there is no chance he would ever unpromptedly confess to Fiddleford and be like “yeah let’s get in a relationship”. Fiddleford as well is also so complex in this topic. He is clearly interested in women as he does dearly love Emma (keeping a photo of her on his desk, talking about her to Ford, being shown to miss her a lot), but when it comes down to it, he was queercoded. Which yeah sure great but that is not his only character trait! He’s incredibly written as a man in that day and age where mental health was very much taboo and he was doing the only thing he could think of to cope, which does actually link back to his childhood and how he was raised Christian but that’s a different conversation, he knew no other way than out of sight out of mind taken to the extremes which is so tragic in itself. He didn’t feel like he could really confide in anyone his fears, including his wife and best friend. I think the saddest part of him, though, really comes down to the memory gun and how he was so smart, he probably knew it would cause brain damage. Yet he still decided he would rather permanently damage his mind than deal with the trauma he’d received. Anyways there’s my wall of text sorry again. Have a good night o/

WOO MORE WALLS OF TEXT. THANK YOU ANON I LOVE IT

okay okay but i really think people forget a multitude of things when talking about the nature of their relationship and its

-its the 1980s in research era. In The United States.

-fiddleford is not only noted to be christian but like. Very christian. like ford puts a big emphasis on it. and obviously being christian doesnt stop him from being queer but once again he grew up during a time when those two things Especially did not mesh together

-filbrick absolutely was the kind of dad to. React Negatively if either ford or stan ever strayed from traditional masculinity. having a parent like that seriously impacts your ability to analyze your own sexuality

but anyways thats not me saying anything against people who don't really care about all that but i find that considering the complexities of the time they lived in as well as their own personal experiences makes their relationship a Lot more interesting than just. teehee they were in love. they r so much more Okay theres so much more to look at and talk about than just them having a regular normal relationship

Anyways . moving along

fiddleford is such an insanely interesting character outside of him being shipped with ford which is something i definitely think people forget. you are very right that him inventing the memory gun and ruining his life with it is a really good (if extreme) representation of how having poor mental health back then was very very frowned upon. to the point where he'd rather do all the things he did than simply confide in the two people closest to him about his struggles.

& yes yes he is Very sad to think about because ur not wrong that he was smart enough to know what the gun would do to him. even if after a few uses it slipped away from him. when he shows it to ford and ford tells him to destroy it, fiddleford straight up acknowledges he could (and doesnt want to) forget his wife and son, before proceeding to erase fords memory and keep the gun. he knows the risks. he would rather lose his life than deal with his trauma and axiety in a healthy way. and isnt that so great and awesome i feel great about it!!!!!! <- dead

#tldr: theyre both queer but its complicated #and fiddleford is one of the best charactrrs ever to exist #even though the show doesnt really do him justice #asks #anon #tw abuse #ask to tag idr what else i talked about #long post

[eremiie]

armin’s relationship headcanons

❥ headcanons on how armin met and developed relationships with his closest friends

❥ content warnings: none

❥ notes: this is really just me trying to grasp character relationships with one another and world build in my head lol

eren’s here.

eren is very self explanatory, met when they were very young because yes, armin got bullied as a small kid, yes eren was there to help, i don’t even think they probably seriously even thought they'd be friends because i think armin may have thought eren might've come off as brash & kind of rude at first but the initial thought of eren deciding to step in must've been enough for armin to just be like ".... a friend can't hurt"

eren's first friend because he doesn't get along with people well. 

carla adores armin— almost thinks of him as another one of her sons and finds herself talking to his grandparents often because they have the common ground of a german background. 

armin spent a lot of time at eren's house and i believe that time exponentially grew because at a point in time when he became a bit older, although he loves his grandparents dearly, seeing eren & carla's relationship made him realize that grandparents + kid relationship is different from a mother's love for a kid, even if it's just as strong. no hard feelings though. 

eren & armin are exceptionally close of course but i believe there was probably a point in middle school where they drifted apart a little bit but it also made their friendship stronger for down the line. 

they stayed friends through middle / high school / college. originally weren't going to go to the same college but i think eren struggled with his options / the whole college thing in general so he essentially just decided to kind of follow mikasa / armin's roll.

mikasa and him met through eren. he would talk about her a lot, tell armin he had to meet her. i think at first it was more of a friends by association thing but eventually armin probably realized how actually close they were so he probably began putting in more effort to be close to her as well.

 i don't think they hung out much outside of eren at first but if they did / when they did it wasn’t awkward, although eren was definitely their common ground at first. 

i think mikasa began seeing armin as almost her child, like she admired how smart he was & his capacity for talking, he was kind of just a very unique kid to her, especially considering how bright he was even with how quiet he was + the fact that he got bullied. so she doted on him. 

i mentioned eren & armin probably drifted at one point and i think at this point armin & mikasa became closer & this strengthened / solidified their friendship.

 became even closer, really helped each other in high school / began going to the same college (helped each other out with that too), kind of really were good support systems for each other during high school when people / themselves began changing / when they were prepping for college. 

jean and armin met in middle school... late middle school-ish. they knew of each other because eren was jean's friend before armin... even mikasa knew of jean before armin however they built a friendship outside of eren being their common ground.

probably had some kind of class together and had to be partners or helped each other with something, or even jean just walked up to armin & asked if he was eren's friend lol. i think after that it was a "hi jean, bye jean" kind of thing but i think the more jean observed armin as a person the more he was attracted to his qualities as a person and really admired him because most of his friends aren't THAT bright lmao. at least not in armin's way. 

this made jean kind of, i mean just kind of go out of his way to interact with armin more and kind of rub in eren's face that yeah he knew armin too, eren's not special lol (considering armin doesn't have many friends atp). 

beginning of highschool that they became friends to the point that they had each others numbers, could call each other to ask for help / advice, study together, things like that. also considering i think it'd also be around time they'd actually see each other outside of school because eren would have armin mingle with his friends like jean, connie, and sasha too at this point!!

 they became closer throughout high school & go to the same college

marco and armin met early high school, knew about each other but couldn't put a name to a face in middle school.

armin probably recognized him like if they had some kind of AP class in high school / during library hours or something and was like ".... by any chance is your name marco? are you jean's friend?" or vice versa, something along the lines & they both began gushing about how good of a person jean is. 

then they began talking ab their classes, school, everything in between & realized how similar they were! it was probably a hi and bye in the hallways as well as working with each other in their classes which lead to an exchange in numbers at one point but i don't think they're friends to a point where they really hang out outside of school or outside of friend gatherings. they could though, without it being awkward but it's just the choosing not to.

 jean was stoked to find out they're friends!!

 i think they're also the kind of friends to ask each other for advice or text like "did you see what mx. xxxx assigned yesterday???? this assignment is pretty odd." kind of thing. so marco & armin do text quite a bit. even like "are you going to xxxx tomorrow? i'll go if you go." kind of thing. anyways. that's marmin

sasha & connie, i’m gonna group these two for my sanity & also because they likely met at the same time. met through eren & jean and are friends by association. 

they don't have too much common ground but i think sasha really adores armin and like actually loves him so much and connie thinks he's cool and what not of course.

 that being said i think armin & sasha are a teeny weeny bit closer. like, have hung out outside of the friend group a few times closer. i think this is because sasha feels like she can really be herself around armin? not that she can't around the others but he's def someone really good at listening & just being attentive and she appreciates that a lot so she can talk his head off and he'll reciprocate, you know?

i think he's helped her study before / with things like that. sometimes when all her friends are available and she really wants to go somewhere she'll drag armin along. call him when she needs to get something off her chest.

there friendship definitely peaks late high school and stays on that same track during college. 

connie and armin on the other hand get closer by association, but don't really hang out outside the friend group. connie has no problem calling armin if he needs something or texting him. i think there's actually a handful of times where connie has checked up on armin. also lovingly makes fun of him when they're with their friends. that's one of connie's love languages, esp to armin lolol.

their friendship peaked summer before college or freshman year of college

annie and armin became friends middle / late high school.

 i think armin despite being an introvert has this natural charm to him that he doesn't even realize— esp when he's just talking. for people who don't find smart people "annoying" or "know it alls" and instead fascinating & worthy of praise this works on them. 

that being said i'm not gonna say annie necessarily found armin charming but i think the first time they talked it was kind of like... "finally. someone tolerable." they probably also had some AP class together as well. annie's pretty smart, i wouldn't doubt that'd be their common ground, or like just constantly seeing each other and eventually having a reason to talk to each other.

they don't talk as much, but i think occasionally they'll text each other when they need help and even as far as i think they've had some deep intellectual conversations that helped them understand each other more.

they've probably involuntarily hung outside of school, probably been at the same place at the same time and just decided to stay for one another.

armin is one of the people annie actually enjoys hearing talk. i think they're the kind of friends that can not talk for 3 months then see each other & talk for a whole week... their friendship kind of just stayed the same throughout high school & college but obviously they continued to mature.

that being said there's a possibility of them having unspoken feelings in high school but as they matured it faded for whatever reason (?), maybe because they didn’t think they knew each other well enough since they both had different friend groups and people they were simply closer to (?) this is up for debate* 

i think annie's the kind of person when armin feels like he can't talk to anyone about a certain situation he'll go to her. a lot of their friends don't get it though.

....considerably eren who has had some weird (bad from his pov) interactions with her. when eren found out they were friends (probably because armin told him he had hung out with annie earlier in the week or something) eren was so damn confused cause since when were they friends and why when they're so different....... mikasa didn't get it either, who also has a bit of some bad footing with annie lol, and sasha & connie found it a little strange but in a hilarious way like "she could break you" kind of way lmaoooo. jean was probably the one who understood the most but was still kind of dense about it.

hitch and armin met freshman year of college. 

hitch knew about armin because annie talked about him to her and hitch seriously thought they'd get together because she wanted to play matchmaker. when she saw armin in one of their general studies classes she immediately recognized him and talked to him for two reasons: 

A) he's annie's friend. 

B) he's eren's friend. 

now you're probably like "???? eren??" but i swear up and down hitch would find eren attractive in a modern au.

in college au specifically i think eren would be a popular loner. people know his face and sometimes his name but he literally has no friends and is dense to the fact that people know him LMAO. it's also cause his friends are somewhat popular (sasha, connie class clowns, jean is a charmer what can i say)

that being said she wanted the let down on eren and she wanted to know armin because what the hell was so interesting about him to annie??? their first convo definitely went something like "i'm gonna sit beside you okay? okay? you're annie's friend right? name starts with an a maybe? archen? armin? yeah!" armin sheepishly nodding because he's confused and she's kind of talking fast and getting very comfy, "you're always with eren! that's his name right? brown hair and the really pretty green eyes???" yes, anyway.

armin & hers friendship def became a classroom thing. she probably talks to him about her boy problems & things she's going to do for the weekend, etc., and she loves that armin can listen just as much as she can talk (which for the record she may talk more than him when she wants to). their friendship is really cute. she definitely calls him to rant about girls and guys.

  anyways aruhitch supreme friendship. very cute. although i see them drifting apart further down the path of college if they don't have classes together. hitch is usually ecstatic to see armin around campus though!

honorable mentions

bertholdt and armin know each other through annie. probably also had a class together at some point in college. they think of each other as swell people, very smart individuals who have common ground but don't really interact outside of that.

historia and armin heard of one another in high school but didn't really interact till early college. as a matter of fact they both probably did student council in high school and remembered each other from then. probably did volunteer work together or something & talk when they see each other, smile at each other in the hallways. they have mutual respect for one another and in this way armin's seen hisu with ymir, so he knows of ymir and has exchanged like 4 words with her when he speaks to hisu

#armin arlert #armin aot #armin headcanons #armin arlert headcanons #attack on titan headcanons #aot headcanons #armin

[5678thegirlalmighty]

Fingolfin: A Figurehead, Father, and Person

A Figurehead 

If Feanor presents a compelling, albeit deeply flawed character, then it perhaps shouldn’t be surprising that his eldest half brother, Fingolfin shares many of the desirable and undesirable traits of Feanor making him equally interesting. In many ways Fingolfin exists to represent an alternative, what could have been for Feanor had his mother lived, had his fire been tamed and his iron will tempered from his youth onward. Fingolfin had the perfect childhood, with Indis who one could only imagine to be a doting mother, and Finwe, distant as he could be, ever trying to please Feanor first, gave more to his second son than his looks. Finwe imparted upon Fingolfin the same strength of character that once compelled him to leave Cuiviénen and bring his people over the sea to a new home. But also a deep and abiding nobility in bearing and mind that all Finwe’s sons had, but Fingolfin matched it with his own fortitude, stalwartness, and sheer recalcitrance in the face of opposition leading to an incredible leader. Though he shared some of the same flaws of his older brother and his people- being stubborn, restless, impulsive, and haughty. He can be faulted for these, but ultimately they led to his own demise. Such characteristics, good, bad, and otherwise are not just Noldorin mainstays, but also outgrowths of their uniquely privileged positions as princes. All that being said it’s clear from the limited writings on him, that Fingolfin was a good king, who power by force of will along (and personal wounds inflicted by Feanor) led the remnants of the Noldor host over the Helcaraxe, only to come and find Beleriand in abject chaos with Morgoth terrorizing the Feanorians, having even captures his nephew Maedhros. After coming into a bad situation, he took up the role expected of him, moving into position for continued battle even after such a hellish exit from Valinor at the behest of his fiery and murderous brother, who had long since perished. To then accept the penance of Maedhros and gracefully take up kingship is nothing but a testament to his character, and showed a maturity and confidence that Feanor wouldn’t have been able to muster himself. He then upheld the Siege of Angband for as long as possible, allowing his people to settle finally more woes than could have been foreseen. The end of it would only come due to his self sacrifice by challenging Morgoth to single combat, in the hopes (false as they may have been) that his life could be laid down and ransom some of the Noldor soldier who otherwise would perish at the hands of the hosts of Angband. An act worth all the praise it receives, fighting till the moment his life was crushed out of his body, fighting for the people he served, loved, and believed in- allowing them to live on and continue the fight themselves. 

A Father 

Having sacrificed himself, he left behind three children who would have missed him dearly, and a fourth had he lived to see the amazing heroics of his father. Beyond what is known it is hard to nail down the true personality of Fingolfin, and how he would have been in a depressurized environment like at home with family. Going off my own conjecture, it would seem that he did best with his two eldest and struggled with the younger pair. Fingon was just an amiable person, and you’d be hard pressed to find a being other than Morgoth himself that he did not like. Turgon must have shared the same seriousness and haughtiness of Fingolfin, giving them a similar way of going about things, added to that Turgon was clearly an able leader and administrator himself and would have shown great interest in Fingolfin’s official capacities. Aredhel and Argon were the free spirits of the family, not content to stay in any one place, doing any one thing, and certainly not at the behest or worse yet requirement of others. Fingolfin, who was so ruled by duty probably misunderstood them and struggled to relate their desires. Aredhel was “strong-willed and stubborn, doing what she wanted rather than listening to other peoples' advice”- strong willed like her father, but in an unrestrained way, putting her further away from him. (Silmarillion, Of Maeglin) While we would have to imagine that the four children were close and cared deeply for each other, they were probably often at odds just by dint of their personalities, and Fingolfin must have had trouble mediating such disputes, himself having a complicated sibling relationship with Feanor. 

A Person 

All of which leads to me to say that he must of have a good person, far beyond the kingly duties or strenuous familial relations, he was someone that despite his own myriad of flaws, tried his best to do good where possible by stepping into whatever breech opened up and needed him. In a word, he did what was needed. Feanor gets exiled and takes Finwe with him, he steps up and becomes regent back in Tirion. Feanor abandons him on the outer shores of Aman, he continues onward to achieve the purpose they set out for, which was vanquishing Melkor. Maedhros hands over kingship in apology, he accepts it kindly. War needed to be waged, he waged it. And when at the last moment he saw that only further destruction lay ahead, he took it upon himself to challenge a god to single combat. In death doing what needed to be done, and returning to Valinor where he could find some peace by reuniting with his wife and children, and as fate would have it, continue to lead the Noldor. Putting his own wants and needs behind him, he is not mentioned as having any particular passions outside of his service to the public, and that is his defining action- doing what’s needed publicly and privately. 

What do you think of my appraisal of Fingolfin? I would love to see your thoughts down in the comments, and who should I consider next? 

(Art credit: Kaprriss)

If you liked this analysis of Fingolfin, then you’d enjoy my other character analyses, which are all saved on my master list- you can check them out here!

#fingolfin #fingon #turgon #aredhel #Argon #House of Fingolfin #finwe #Feanor #maedhros #noldor

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Soulmate AU Part 4 (final part):

Uther continues to be very OOC and Merlin is presented to the Kingdom; luckily enough, everyone already loves him. The Future starts to come together...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

The summer passed in much the same way the previous year had; awkwardly polite conversation between Merlin and Uther, Leon panicking at everything, Gwen being exasperated, Morgana and Merlin pissing about, and Arthur watching it all with exponentially growing fondness.

Eventually, it was Yuletide again. Yuletide meant Arthur’s 18th birthday. Arthur’s 18th birthday meant revealing Merlin to the Kingdom; announcing him as The Crown Prince’s Soulmate.

There was an odd mix of feelings surrounding the upcoming event. Both Arthur and Merlin were ecstatic at the idea of not having to hide and sneak around anymore, but Merlin was a foreign peasant boy. The common people would love him, Nobles and Foreign dignitaries? Not so much. Granted, Arthur had a powerfully intimidating presence, when he chose to display it, Morgana could glare anyone into submission, and even Leon was known to be passive aggressively threatening when it concerned Merlin’s safety and respect, but not all could be daunted into compliance. Merlin would surely face discrimination.

That, and the growing spotlight meant that it would become much harder to keep his magic a secret. With Uther’s insistence that Merlin be... part of the family, they’d already had a few close calls.

Thankfully, not much else had changed, or it had changed for the better. Arthur and Merlin still scared everyone else shitless when they popped up to each other, but Morgana’s visions seemed a lot less terrifying now. Leon still had heart palpitations when Merlin and The King were in the same room, but Gwen, Gaius, and Hunith relaxed more; the Physician especially could see the pride glowing in Uther’s eyes, and the awkward fondness he held for Merlin (even if that wouldn't protect him if Uther discovered his magic).

Nevertheless, no ones’ fears or aspirations stopped the passage of time (though Merlin, in his increasing power, had put it on his “List of Things to Try Before I Die”), and Arthur’s crowning ceremony crept closer, day by day.

Hunith, Merlin, Leon, Gwen, and Gaius were gifted front row seats to the event, and as annoyed as Uther was at having the front row taking by commoners, a servant, and a young knight, he didn’t dare argue; he’d learnt that it was pointless now. Morgana was stood behind Uther’s throne at her own seat, giving Arthur a rare smile, not a hint of teasing in her expression, and Arthur returned it easily, comforted by the dream she told him she had the previous night (of adoring crowds and a grinning Merlin) despite his nerves.

The ceremony of course went of without a hitch, a rare smile on Uther’s face, and tears on all the faces of Arthur’s front row.

After an uproarious round of applause and chants of “Long Live The King, Long Live The Prince!”, the room cleared, leaving only Uther, Arthur, Morgana, Merlin, and a few faceless guards.

(Gaius, Hunith, Gwen, and Leon rushed off, wanting to be at the front of the crowds in the courtyard when Arthur and Merlin were presented to the Kingdom.)

Merlin didn’t hesitate in rushing up the steps to Arthur, wrapping his soulmate in a tight hug and whispering his pride into his blushing ear. For once, Morgana didn’t roll her eyes at the display of affection; Arthur may have occasional spurts of arrogance, and the two of them still acted like immature children occasionally, but she loved them both dearly. Uther did roll his eyes, though he could not hide his fondness from Morgana, who raised (yet another) teasing eyebrow at him. He glared at her half-heartedly before clearing his throat, and the boys jumped apart with a start.

He wordlessly nodded towards the door of the Throne Room, and walked out regally, his steps fast and heavy and his cloak billowing behind him. Merlin and Arthur followed quickly, hand in hand, and Morgana walked closely behind them, the guards bringing up the rear. The group finally made it to the large double doors that opened out onto the balcony above the courtyard, though it was two corridors previously that they began to hear the cheering and festivities below.

Arthur could feel Merlin’s hand shaking in his own, and squeezes it comfortingly, giving him a reassuringly soft smile as he murmurs, so Uther can’t hear them:

“Don’t worry, it’ll only be a few minutes, then we’ll come back in. You’ll be introduced to nobles and such during the feast,-”

When Merlin begins to look even more distressed, Arthur rolls his eyes good-naturedly and continues before his Warlock can interrupt him:

“-yes, I know, we’ll have to mingle, but this evening, it’s just us and the others. We’ll take some food and wine back to yours, and we can have some fun and all fall asleep in front of the fire together. Alright?”

Merlin takes a deep breath and nods, but before he can say anything, Uther stops his conversation with one of the guards and abruptly turns around, his face tersely concerned.

He takes one look at the boys before tutting and stepping towards them. Arthur freezes in shock as Uther begins to run a gloved hand through his hair, neatening it out and flattening it properly under the newly placed crown before stepping back again with a satisfied nod of the head. Arthur’s wide eyes stare straight ahead, and Morgana (having snuck in front of them to watch the whole ordeal) has to stop herself from snorting at his face. If she thought that was funny... well.

Next, Uther’s eyes move to Merlin, where he gives an even more disapproving tut and steps forward once more. He removes one of his gloves quickly, wetting his thumb with his tongue before wiping it just a little too harshly along Merlin’s nose, muttering-

“How the hell are you always so Godamn grubby?”

-to himself. Morgana doesn’t manage to hold in her giggles at that, clamping a hand over her mouth as she dedicates this whole scene to memory forever. Arthur is staring at his father with not even an attempt to hide his bafflement, but at this point, Uther is too busy brushing invisible lint off of Merlin’s shoulders to notice the incredulous stares from the three teenagers (and all the guards).

He finally steps back, huffing out a sigh, and muttering-

“That will have to do, I suppose.”

-before turning back to the doors and gesturing to the guards. Morgana, and Arthur have only a moment to regain their composure before they are ushered out on the balcony; Merlin staying back as he had been informed to do that morning, though he can hear the cheers get impossibly louder as the three royals greet their people.

Arthur glances back, just quickly, giving him one last smile before facing his people and standing in support of his father’s kingly speech:

“My people! Today, on this year’s Winter Solstice, my son has come of age!-”

The crowds had quietened significantly when Uther began, but another cheer went up at his words, and he paused, holding a silencing hand up:

“-I now present him to you, as Crown Prince Arthur Pendragon, heir to the throne of Camelot, my successor!”

His hand moves to gesture at Arthur, and the Prince steps forward as The King steps back, a wide smile on the blonde's face as his people cheer for him. He waves back, eyes searching the crowd for Hunith, Gaius, Gwen, and Leon; they meet gazes just as Uther steps forward once more, holding his hand up again:

“There is other news! It is...-”

He looks to Arthur, settling a hand on his shoulder and giving him a small smile. His voice quietens a little, but it can still be heard by the crowd:

“-it is with great pride, that I announce-”

The moment ended as quickly as it had started as Uther turns back to the crowds below, raising his voice again:

“-that my son has found his soulmate!!-”

Arthur had been expecting loud cheers, but their audience grows quiet and still at the announcement, as if frozen in suspense. As he peers over the stone barrier, he can see almost everyone in the crowd pairing off slightly, pulling their soulmates closer as they wait with baited breath to see their Prince’s partner.

Inside, Merlin takes a deep breath, but relaxes slightly when he sees Arthur unclench his own nervous fist, holding it behind him in preparation, invitation, for Merlin to take it in just a few moments:

“-I present to you, a close family friend of the royals,-”

(Morgana scoffs and rolls her eyes, but thankfully no one is paying her any attention.)

“-a skilled physician in training, and a trusted citizen of this Great Kingdom,-”

He gestures towards the door behind him, and Merlin takes his first shaky step forward, coming into line with Arthur as Uther finishes:

“Merlin, of Ealdor!”

Arthur and Merlin walk to the front of the balcony, hand in hand, as the loudest cheers Merlin has ever heard explode from the crowd. Despite the thunderous noise, Merlin can still pick out the cheers of his mother, uncle, friend, and older brother, and the leisurely applause from Morgana behind him, and he smiles in spite of his nerves. Arthur squeezes his hand once more, and they raise their joined fists to the crowds as they grin, struggling to hold in their laughter at the sheer amount of joy on the faces of everyone (bar Uther, of course, he just looked marginally happy)  present.

Merlin has become even more recognised around the kingdom; normally seen trailing Gaius (who is also well-known, and well-loved) or, as inappropriate as it might be (at least according to Uther’s council), hanging around with Morgana and Gwen during the day. The castle’s servants and the majority of the knights had guessed that Merlin was the soulmate of either Prince Arthur or the Lady Morgana, what with how often he was with them and the way King Uther was apparently ok with that, and gossip spread like wildfire. But the loud cheers just drive home how well-loved Merlin is, and he tears up in response.

Merlin and Arthur finally step away from the edge of the balcony, and Uther continues his address of the people, though it passes by in a bit of a blur for Merlin, and he tunes out fairly quickly. He’s vaguely aware of Arthur running a soft thumb over his knuckles, and Morgana stepping towards him to clutch the edge of his tunic (loud crowds had never been her thing), but the speech and the cheering are drowned out by his racing thoughts.

~

Uther’s speech finally came to an end and the crowd dissipated. The King rushed off immediately, after sending what could almost be described as a respectfully fond nod in Merlin’s direction, but Morgana, Arthur, and Merlin luckily had nothing pressing to attend to before the feast, and had around an hour of time to waste (read: relax).

Despite Leon escorting the three of them to Merlin and Hunith’s home dressed in full armour, sword strapped to his hip, the journey took twice as long as it normally did, with various nobles and citizens alike wanting to stop them in the street and congratulate them. Arthur and Merlin were endlessly polite and extremely grateful for the support of their (now shared) people, but Leon’s forceful insistence that they “have somewhere important to be, My Lords, My Lady” went quietly thanked.

Hunith, Gaius, and Gwen met them at the house, and a round of tight hugs was shared; all staring fondly when Hunith wouldn’t let Merlin go for love nor money, whispering tearful exclamations of pride in his ear.

The hour felt like it passed in mere minutes, but it was enough time at least for Merlin to relax a little. Morgana and Gwen helped Hunith get ready, and Merlin definitely did NOT tear up when she came out of her room dressed like royalty, a string of Morgana’s pearls around her neck. Arthur and Morgana had deliberately stored a spare set of clothes here so they didn’t have to go back to the castle to change, and the Prince just about managed to force Merlin into a new jacket and cloak (”Why?!”  “Because you have to, it’s protocol, you have to be dressed differently.”  “That’s fucking stu-”  “Merlin, I love you, but shut up and get changed.”  “...Prat.” ) .

The seating arrangements weren’t too terrible. As per normal, Uther sat at the head of the table, with Arthur around the corner on the King’s right and Morgana to his left. Merlin sat in between Arthur and his mother; Leon was, unfortunately, on guard duty, though thankfully he was being assigned to Prince Duty (training, hunts, patrols, bodyguard, etc) more and more, meaning he was stood at the wall behind the two boys. 

Thankfully, the only stranger anywhere near Merlin was a respected Camelot noble seated opposite him, and he seemed far more interested in boasting about his son to the King in the hopes of winning him a knighthood than he was in Merlin, and payed barely any attention to him other than the occasional distasteful glare (they did not go unnoticed by Arthur, and simply guaranteed that his prick of a son wasn’t going to end up anywhere near a sword).

So all in all, the feast wasn’t too bad. Merlin’s stomach was turning a little, but Arthur’s hand on his thigh under the table and his mother’s shoulder occasionally brushing against his own calmed him right down, though he still kept well away from any alcohol or too-rich foods, worried about making a fool of himself or turning his stomach even more.

The Gang also had Gwen serving them. Morgana had given up on her pleas to have her join them at the table fairly quickly; she could argue with Uther endlessly on many things, but she knew she was never going to win this one. At Guinevere’s insistence that today wasn’t about her, and Morgana shouldn’t ruin Uther’s tenuous good mood on Arthur’s birthday AND coronation AND soulmate-reveal-day, she gave in. But Merlin appreciated the feeling of friendly eyes, both Leon’s and Gwen’s, on his back for the course of the feast.

Just like during the celebrations of Arthur’s knighting ceremony, the tables were cleared from the room to make way for music and dancing, though this time Arthur and Merlin didn’t have to hide their partnership.

Merlin’s stomach turned more at the mingling he was forced to do, answering awkward questions about the purity of his blood and where he came from and his education and his understanding of social etiquette, almost all of which were phrased in condescending and/or downright spiteful ways. But the way Arthur’s arm, looped through his, tensed, and the scowl the Prince sported when Merlin couldn’t bring himself to, partnered with Leon’s comforting shadow (and even Uther’s, when the question’s strayed into cruelty) made him feel at least justified in his discomfort.

Morgana, at the quiet request of Merlin, spent the entire night by Hunith’s side, shielding her from the malicious glaring of nobles who felt cheated by her accidental winning of a position in the royal family. She was granted at least a little respect due to her being a relation of Gaius, who was highly respected and close to the King, but that was about as far as her favour went, and she was eternally grateful for Morgana’s steadfast presence and silent-but-deadly brand of defence.

The night passed slowly, but not so unpleasantly that Merlin was too desperate for it to end, though that changed rather jarringly when he found himself without Arthur for the first time. The Prince and Merlin had been stood next to each other, though involved in different conversations; thankfully for Merlin, he had been having a rather lovely chat about country-life with the wife of a knight. It was when she was pulled away by her husband to converse with another that Merlin realised that Arthur had also been pulled away by whoever it was he had been talking to.

Merlin tensed when he couldn’t immediately spot his soulmate through the crowd, but took a calming breath when he did spot Leon stood dutifully against the opposite wall, Guinevere next to him. That was fine, it wasn’t Arthur, but it was better than nothing, and he allowed his anxiety to swirl in his lungs for only a moment before he began his soft-stepped journey across the hall. 

He caught Leon’s eye, thankfully, and the knight frowned slightly at the empty space next to him before sending a reassuring smile his way, nodding in encouragement and understanding.

Alas, he only made it halfway when he was stopped by a rather harsh hand on his shoulder.

He turns around, barely swallowing a gasp and a flinch, only to come face to face with the noble he had been sat opposite during the feast. The hand was uncomfortably tight on his shoulder, and Merlin wanted more than anything to push it away, but instead he forced a smile on his face and bowed his head respectfully, hoping beyond hope that Arthur would make a reappearance or Leon would see his discomfort and be able to come up with an excuse to abandon his post:

“Lord Otto, a pleasure to see you again.”

The drunken Lord let out a huff of sarcastic laughter, pressing his thumb even more severely into Merlin’s collarbone:

“Hmm, a pleasure indeed. Tell me boy, how is it that you, a peasant, think yourself worthy of such a magnificent soulmate?”

Merlin’s eyes widen in shock. No one had been so obviously disdainful, but the over-indulgence in alcohol, the Lord’s privileged seat at the table, and Merlin's lack of any sort of protector had evidently given him a boost in confidence. Merlin stuttered for a few moments, not quite sure what to say, before quietly coming out with:

“Well... I... don’t really know, I-”

He’s interrupted by a far softer hand on his other shoulder, but is even more shocked when, instead of Leon or Arthur, he found The King stood by his side, flicking an incredibly scornful gaze between Lord Otto’s hand and face. It does nothing to dissuade the Lord, and Merlin can’t disguise his wince this time when the hand once again tightens it’s grip.

Merlin had hoped he’d been subtle, but the clenching of Uther’s jaw tells him he had not been; before he can worry about what social rule he had broken and how Uther was going to punish him for it, The King finally settled his glare on Otto’s face:

“I must insist that you remove your hand from my boy’s person, and refrain from making such improper inquiries.”

His cold tone almost sends a shiver down Merlin’s spine, but the confusion of having Uther being in defence of him (a Warlock) stops the reaction before it even starts. The Lord glances up at the crown sitting strongly on Uther’s head, seemingly reminding himself of his company, before dropping his hand from Merlin’s shoulder as if he’d been burned.

He bows his head shallowly, making himself look as subservient as his pride could manage, and Uther gives him a barely restrained look of disgust when he looks up again, interrupting any quivering apologies he might have made:

“It’s getting rather late, and you’ve indulged enough for one night, do you not think? I suggest you end your evening here, Lord Otto.”

All three knew that it was not a suggestion, and Otto bows once more before muttering a humiliated, red-faced “Right you are, Your Majesty” and waddling out of the hall, towards the guest chambers.

Merlin let out a breath, his face just a little flushed as Uther spares him a quick, concerned glance before pushing him gently towards an on-going conversation between Arthur and a group of knights on the other side of the band. Merlin lets out a relieved breath when he sees his partner, but quickly frowns in concern when he then sees the tense line of Arthur’s shoulders and the way his eyes were darting around the room. He’s obviously paying only the shallowest of attention to the conversation at hand; but then they meet gazes, and the tension drains out of him as he sends a relieved smile Merlin’s way.

Arthur politely excuses himself from the conversation, using the blinding smile that only made an appearance when he was manipulating courtiers and nobles, before making his way through the crowd towards Merlin, evidently trying to disguise his desperation. Merlin was absent-mindedly aware of Uther keeping pace with him, the supportive hand on his shoulder-blade not leaving even when Merlin sped up slightly.

(If Merlin had been thinking about anything other than just being at Arthur’s side again, he would’ve found the odd mix of disgust and gratitude for Uther’s presence very confusing.)

They finally reach each other and Arthur grabs Merlin’s hand gently, pulling him to his side and landing a soft kiss to his cheek. Uther finally removes his hand from Merlin’s back, and it’s the absence of touch that reminds Merlin of The King’s presence. He turns quickly, hand safely in Arthur’s grip, to give Uther a flushed, timid smile:

“I... uh... thank you, My Lord.”

Uther gives him a tight smile, though you’d have to be blind to miss the slight fondness in his expression as he shakes his head:

“Hmm, I’ve been looking for an excuse to get Otto out of here for at least an hour, the man is intolerable, his incessant rambling about his unremarkable son even more so.”

Merlin nodded awkwardly and tightened his hold on Arthur’s hand, but before either boy can say anything, Uther lets out a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders and settling hesitant hands on one of their shoulders each:

“I... am proud of you both, and I wish you all the happiness in the world. One day, this Kingdom shall be yours, and it will be golden under your rule.”

Merlin almost manages to forget the whole... unforgivable genocide thing, and gives The King a weak, though grateful smile, running his thumb over Arthur’s knuckles when he feels the blonde shake slightly. Arthur tears up at Uther’s words, but thankfully manages to keep his voice steady as he quietly replies:

“Thank you, father, we will do everything in our power to live up to your legacy.”

(An utter lie, considering they plan on undoing pretty much everything he’s known for the moment they come into power, but Uther doesn’t need to know that, and the sentiment remains.)

Uther gives Arthur one last gentle smile, before lowering his hands and straightening his posture, going from awkwardly doting father to detached mighty King within a second. He nods at each of them before turning and walking regally away, his cloak billowing behind him and his golden crown shining atop his head.

Arthur tilts his head in question and tugs Merlin’s hand slightly when he sees the small frown on the younger’s face:

“Merls? What did Otto do? He didn't hurt you, did he?!”

Merlin looked up at him in shock before blinking away the surprise and chuckling:

“Ah, no, nothing like that, just asked how a peasant ended up with such a magnificent soulmate.-”

Arthur looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended on Merlin’s behalf, so he settled for an odd mix of the two:

“-That didn’t bother me though, it was... Uther called me his boy.”

Arthur dropped his chin slightly in shock:

“He what?”

Merlin shrugged:

“He said “I must insist that you remove your hand from my boy”. It was very... disconcerting, and oddly endearing considering what he’d do if he knew what I was.”

He whispered the last part quietly, and Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise before chuckling quietly:

“Wow, never thought I’d see the day. My father being protective of a commoner and telling me how proud he is all in one evening, perhaps the world is ending.”

Merlin snorts, rolling his eyes and softly responding:

“Hmm. He may be a bit of a prat, but he does love you, and he has his moments.”

Arthur narrows his eyes at Merlin good-naturedly, a smirk dangerously close to breaking out on his face:

“You know Merlin, you may be right, but you’re still the only person I allow to say it aloud without sanction.”

Merlin just smirks and raises an eyebrow; Arthur laughs, and the world feels right.

~

It was late by the time Arthur and Merlin finally decided to call it quits. Morgana, Gaius, and Hunith had left around an hour ago, Gwen following them the moment her shift ended. Technically, someone had come to take over from Leon about halfway through the night, but he stuck around, patrolling the shadows of the room with one eye on Merlin always.

(The boys had insisted that he should go home and relax, but were quietly grateful when he stayed.)

They had been wanting to leave for hours, and normally they could easily get away with such an absence, but this particular celebration was in their honour, it wouldn't do to leave too early, so they finally made their way out of the hall when the crowds had halved and it was approaching midnight.

Uther gave them one last pat on the back when they said goodbye, and the tension practically melted off them when they stepped foot outside, despite the freezing temperatures of winter in the dead of night.

Leon stepped out just a moment after them, and the three of them make quick work of the journey to the house, not wanting to dally in the frigid air and just a little desperate to find themselves in the comforting presence on the family they had built.

They arrive just in time to find Hunith pouring out mugs of hot chocolate (a luxury that Merlin and Hunith never had in Ealdor), and Gwen adding another log to the fire. The next round of hugs was quicker than the last; everyone was tired and eager to settle down, to push the insensitive questions to the back of their minds and revel in the positive feeling of things moving forward.

Arthur had removed his cloak immediately upon entry, folding it precisely and leaving it on the table in the hall, his golden circlet following shortly after, cushioned by the soft fabric, but Merlin excused himself to their bedroom, changing into comfier clothes and washing his face. He had been looking forward to leaving all night, but now that he was home, he found all he wanted to do was collapse in bed and sleep, Arthur securely in his arms.

A knock at the door broke him out of his slow moving thoughts, and he frowned slightly, Arthur wouldn’t knock:

“Come in.”

It was Leon that opened the door, having rid himself of his sword and most of his armour (a pain in the arse, considering he’ll have to wake up early to put it all on again, but oh well), and he stepped into the room, quietly shutting the door again behind him. Merlin sent him a tired smile, but Leon saw through it and raised an eyebrow:

“You alright, Birdy? Anyone in particular you’d like me to embarrass during training or council meetings?”

Merlin laughed and shook his head:

“No, that definitely won’t endear me to people. Honestly, it was a lot better than I was expecting, and having Arthur scowling at people and Uther defending me was rather entertaining in the end.”

Leon snorted, muttering a quietly amused “yeah, I bet” before stepping forward and enveloping Merlin in a tight hug, one hand on his back, one in his hair, holding him close. Merlin melted into the embrace, clutching the back of Leon’s tunic tightly as the older man swayed on his feet slightly, murmuring:

“I’m proud of you, little brother. You handled everything just fine, the kingdom loves you; you’re doing great.”

Merlin lets out a deep breath and steps back, though was grateful to feel Leon’s hands still on his shoulders as he replies:

“Thank you. Honestly, I’m just exhausted, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this for the rest of my life, and I... I don’t want to disappoint Arthur.”

Leon rolled his eyes good-naturedly and ruffled Merlin’s hair:

“You could never. He loves you more than anything in this world, Birdy, you’re made for each other, after all. He would abandon all of this in a heartbeat if he thought it would make you happy.”

Merlin frowns slightly, clenching his jaw:

“Yeah, I know, that’s what worries me. We’re meant to... bring about a golden age or whatever, and we can’t do that if we leave, but I’m not sure I’m going to be any good at the... politics, or the court manipulation or anything that comes with... with running a Kingdom. I know it’s a long way off but...-”

Leon nods in understanding and squeezes Merlin’s shoulder softly:

“You’ve got plenty of time to learn. And hey, if you want to stay away from the politics? Fine, Arthur and Morgana have plenty of expertise in that area. You’re a physician, Merls, not a courtier, and the kingdom already loves you, not because you’re a good politician or anything like that, but because you’re a good person, and you’re worth loving. Just keep being yourself and you’ll be absolutely fine. And besides, you’ll always have us lot to fall back on when you’re unsure; you’ll never be alone, little brother, I’ll make sure of it.”

Merlin nods and sniffles slightly at Leon’s words, giving him another tight hug. They step back into the hall, and Leon gives Merlin’s hand a gentle squeeze:

“Ready? I can tell them you headed to bed, if you just want some sleep?”

Merlin smiles and shakes his head, pulling Leon to the living room, where everyone is undoubtedly crowded around the fire surrounded by blankets and pillows.

~

From that day forth, Merlin’s life becomes a lot more... official.

He was officially given sword-fighting lessons by a few of the older knights, though thanks to the lessons Leon, Arthur, and Morgana had given him already, he held his own pretty well, and they were more than impressed with the skill level of someone they had assumed was a complete beginner.

He was officially invited to the occasional council meeting (at least the boring, everyday ones). He was always a silent spectator, his participation discouraged, though his presence expected; Arthur always made a point to ask his opinions afterwards though.

His new duties and lessons, on top of his pre-existing duties as the Physician’s Apprentice, AND having to keep his magic hidden and his reputation intact, was all somewhat overwhelming for Merlin, but the steadfast support of Arthur and Morgana when it concerns politics, and Gaius talking Uther down when The King wants Merlin to be more involved in court life, definitely help him in everyday life. Gwen’s hugs and Leon’s hair ruffling are certainly God-sends as well.

The oddest thing was the way people addressed Merlin now. He wasn’t even of age yet, but people were calling him Lord, and servants bowed at him in the corridor. There wasn’t much he could do about the nobles without making some incredible social faux pas, but he always flushed at the servants and insisted they stop bowing and just call him Merlin, at least when no one else is around. 

Thankfully, both visitors to the Kingdom and local nobles tone down the snootiness, especially when Uther publicly shows Merlin respect and rumours (correct rumours) spread of Arthur and Morgana’s protectiveness.

Merlin’s birthday was celebrated minimally, though there was, once again, a mix of feelings upon the realisation that he was now only one year away from being of age, and things would surely get even more intense when that happened. But they all tried to push it from their minds, at least for the time being.

As winter broke and the sun came up on what was undoubtedly a Spring day, Merlin felt the most refreshed he had in a long time, though his mood dropped instantly when he, Arthur, and Morgana were summoned to Uther’s private study... only to be given another mini, awkward “I’m proud of you” speech, and given a week off.

Of course, Arthur was still somewhat expected to keep up with his training at least a little, but really, there was nothing forcing him to.

They exited the study flushed with pride and excitement at the prospect of doing whatever the hell they wanted for a week, and met Gwen in the hall. She was worrying her lip between her teeth when they saw her, but she instantly relaxed and raised a questioning eyebrow when she saw the grins on their faces, and Morgana explained what had happened.

It was that evening, whilst relaxing in Arthur’s chambers, that Merlin heard the dreaded echo of “Emrys...” in his head.

He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, out of both frustration and the pain of another’s voice unexpectedly materializing on the inside of one’s skull.

It was just Arthur and Merlin in the room, and the Prince immediately moved from his own chair to kneel in front of his soulmate, running his hands up and down Merlin’s arms as he shakily asks:

“Merls? What’s wrong?”

Merlin just looks up at him blearily, one hand taking Arthur’s and the other rubbing his temple:

“Fucking... scaly arsehole.”

Arthur tenses and frowns as he answers:

“I thought he had given up months ago? Why is he calling you now?”

Merlin shrugs, slumping back in his seat:

“Who knows, he didn’t say, he just-”

“It’s important, bring your little... friends, if it makes you feel any better.”

“-never mind. He just said it’s important, and I can bring my “little friends” if I want.-”

He snorted in dry amusement before continuing:

“-as if I would’ve listened if he told me to go alone anyway. I really thought that me thinking “Fuck Off” as loud as I could helped him get the hint. Apparently not.”

Arthur rolled his eyes before looking to Merlin in concern:

“Well... do you want to go? Or do you want to just hope he goes away again?”

Merlin sighs, but before he can answer, the voice echoes once again:

“I will not go away this time, young Warlock. This is important, and I have very little else to entertain myself with, other than being an annoyance to you. Come.”

He huffs in frustration, standing abruptly and taking Arthur’s hand, dragging him to where their swords are kept as he grumbles:

“He’s not going away this time. Let’s fetch Leon and head down.”

Arthur dutifully follows, strapping his sword to his hip and locking the chamber doors behind them, not speaking until they were approaching Leon’s door:

“No Morgana or Gwen?”

Merlin halts, clenching his hands tightly as he thinks for a moment:

“Hmm. No, I don’t want to freak them out. We can tell them what happens later, but I don’t want Morgana to have to face him again.”

Arthur nods, and knocks quietly on Leon’s door. He opens quickly, and Arthur and Merlin are thankful that they didn’t wake him, though quickly notice his panic when he sees their grave faces and swords.

The explanation is quick, and within a few minutes the trio are making a stealthy journey down to the Dragon’s Lair. There are no dramatic appearances this time, the great lizard is already perched regally on the edge of the platform, waiting for them.

He tilts his head when he sees their tense forms at the gate:

“I’m grateful that you did not bring the Witch.”

Arthur and Leon look to Merlin in confusion as he bristles, tightening his grip on the sword at his hip as he speaks:

“Yeah, well, I didn’t fancy you trying to kill my best friend again. What do you want?”

The dragon does what the trio guesses is the closest to an eye roll and dramatic sigh that his great form can manage, before lowering his head and speaking in English:

“If you won’t listen to me, I suggest you use your new found, though temporary freedom to meet with the Druids. They have all relevant information on the prophecies, you can learn of your destinies from them. The closest camp is a day’s ride from the Eastern border of Camelot.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, but Arthur beats him to it:

“And how would you know that? How did you know we had time off?”

The dragon tilts his head and huffs out a dry laugh, the hot air making the trio sweat under their thick cloaks (it may have been Spring, but it was still cold) :

“I know a great many things, young King.”

Merlin and Arthur can practically feel the way Leon tenses, even from a  few paces away. The man, ever the knight, was obviously incredibly uncomfortable with the idea that this dragon knew the goings on of the world, could listen in on conversations, all while being chained in the basement. Before either knight can say anything, Merlin tilts his head, a challenging look on his face as he regards the dragon:

“You... you keep saying destiny, but destiny is pre-written, the whole point is that it’s going to happen no matter what anyone involved does, no matter the interference. So why are you so desperate to have us know it, and work towards it? Us knowing or not knowing won’t alter things either way, unless it’s all a pile of shit and you’re manipulating us.”

Arthur smirks at Merlin’s quick mind and Leon looks impressed, the two of them turning their own challenging gazes on the rather thoughtful looking reptile. He mutters something along the lines of “you weren’t so bloody clever last time,” before lowering himself even closer to the ground, closer to Merlin:

“If I were manipulating you, then I wouldn’t send you to a third party known for being pacifist and unbiased, would I? Destiny isn’t completely certain, it is simply one of many likelihoods, the most... benefitting likelihood, is the destiny of you and your soulmate.”

Merlin scowls:

“Benefitting for who? Something tells me that one day you’re going to ask us for something, and we’ll be powerless to say no, thanks to all this... help you’re giving us, and it’ll be a mistake. So, benefitting who?”

The dragon shifts his jaw in such a way that resembles a smirk, speaking once again in the rasping language that Leon and Arthur don’t understand:

“Do you not want magic, yourself, your people, to be free, Emrys?”

He raises himself to his full height, stalking towards the ledge and stretching his leathery wings out. The trio manage to hold their ground in his dauntingly large presence, but their hands do tighten around their weapons:

“Go to the Druids, tell them Kilgharrah sent you.”

With that, he tips himself over the edge, falling for a second before snapping his wings out once again and shooting upwards towards the shadow-bathed ceiling, thick chain clanging loudly with the sudden movement.

Merlin huffs and turns to ascend the steps without another word, grumbling to himself about “stupid fucking dragons” and “my one week off and I have to deal with this shit” . Leon and Arthur look to each other with a shrug and a mix of genuine concern and mild amusement on their faces, before hurriedly following Merlin back through the castle.

~

Thankfully, it took almost no effort for Arthur and Morgana to get Uther to allow them to leave the Kingdom on their little vacation. It being under the guise of “visiting Ealdor” meant that it was perfectly within the realm of reasonable requests to have Leon tag along as “protection” as well. Guinevere was coming because they of course would need a servant whilst they were out and about (though Uther was definitely beginning to suspect that something more was at play between Morgana and the serving girl).

Unfortunately, Hunith was unable to get the week off work at such short notice (mother of the Prince’s soulmate or not), and there was no way they’d be able to justify asking The King for Gaius to tag along, so they didn’t even try. But they set out the next afternoon, having filled Gwen and Morgana in on Kilgharrah’s rather vague and annoying directions.

Neither of them were particularly happy that they had gone to see the Dragon without them or that they were just... doing what he said, but destiny or no, consulting the Druids on Morgana’s visions and Merlin’s magic was still a good idea, and they’d never get a better chance.

Just like Kilgharrah said, they found the Druid camp two days into their journey from the city, almost a day’s ride beyond Camelot’s border. They had to be careful, wear disguises, but they were travelling through virtually untouched wood so they didn’t run into anyone, not even a pesky group of bandits made an appearance.

When the first tents came into sight through the trees, the group stopped to take a breath and prepare themselves, giving each other one last round of dubious looks before beginning to walk again.

They barely make it to their third step when Merlin pauses and takes a stuttering breath, clenching his fingers around Arthur’s sleeve in a white-knuckled grip. The others crowd around him worriedly, but relax (only slightly) when he looks more confused than anything else. Before they can ask what’s wrong, he peers between them towards the tents:

“Uh... how are you- are you Druid? Is this one of you?”

Arthur’s eyes widen as he realises:

“Someone’s in your head again?”

Merlin nods distractedly but doesn’t move his gaze, speaking louder:

“Hello??”

Finally, a middle-aged man steps out from the camp; he wears floor length, dark green robes, and his silver hair almost falls to his shoulders. He gives the group a kind smile before finally focusing in on Arthur and Merlin, bowing his head slightly:

“My Lords. Our seers saw you coming some days ago, and we felt your presence the moment you entered our wood, Emrys.”

Merlin clenches his jaw slightly:

“Please don’t call me that, my name is Merlin... and... Kilgharrah sent us?”

He says it as if it’s a question and the Druid gives Merlin an assessing gaze, before nodding slightly. Before he can verbally respond, Leon steps subtly in front of the others. Morgana rolls her eyes at his protectiveness and Arthur huffs, but before they can challenge him, he asks:

“What do you mean, you felt his presence?”

He tilts his head again and smiles slightly, as though amused:

“Em- Merlin is rather powerful; we can sense him from miles away, his magic is incredibly... distinctive.”

Merlin frowns, holding Arthur’s hand protectively in his own as he side-steps Leon:

“What does that even mean? I’m not that powerful.”

The man shakes his head slightly and gestures behind him:

“Come. I imagine you have many questions about many things. The camp awaits your presence, My Lord.”

Merlin frowns at the title, but the Druid turns his back and begins walking back into the centre of the camp before he can challenge it. He gives a small shrug and a quiet “well, here we go” to the others before following his trail, Arthur’s hand still clutched tightly in his.

They all receive peculiar looks as they walk through the camp. Life seems to stop as everyone pauses what they’re doing to stare at the intruding teenagers (and Leon), but they keep their heads down, all letting out a relieved sigh when the man leads them to a tent, gesturing for them to sit around a table, and closing the fabric gently behind him.

He turns around with relaxed shoulders and an easy smile, not acknowledging that none of them are sat down and are instead gathered in a huddle by the table:

“My name is Iseldir. Druids don’t have strict hierarchies, but I’m considered the chieftain here, welcome.”

He looks at Merlin as he speaks, and the young Warlock nods slightly. He opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it again with furrowed brows; Iseldir raises an eyebrow and Merlin hums thoughtfully before trying again:

“I was going to introduce everyone, but something tells me that you already know who we are.”

Iseldir smiles again and nods, the expression on his face looking something similar to pride:

“Yes, I know who you all are. I see that you are learning to trust your instincts, My Lord.”

Merlin grimaces:

“It’s just Merlin, please. It’s bad enough that everyone at the castle calls me Lord now, I’m not even of age yet.”

The Chieftain’s smile widens in amusement as he nods, and Morgana is the next to speak up, her hand clutched tightly in Gwen’s as her voice shakes only slightly:

“We were sent here to learn about our... destinies?”

Iseldir nods, politely ignoring the way Merlin reaches behind him to grab Morgana’s wrist comfortingly, and how Leon and Arthur rest their hands near their swords:

“I have everything we need laid out here; it isn’t too complicated and we should get through all of it by this evening.”

The teenagers finally move to the seats, but make no effort to hide the way they shuffle the furniture to be sat closer together. Morgana and Merlin are sat in the middle, Arthur and Gwen flanking them protectively; Leon remains standing, a hand on each of his magical kid’s shoulders and a blank, though slightly challenging look on his face. Iseldir raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment, moving to sit on the opposite side of the table and shuffling a few papers around before looking up with a smile:

“Let us begin.”

~

The general mood of the room could be judged accurately by how tense Leon was at any one moment. Though he remained standing, he was relaxed and curious when Iseldir told them about the extent of Merlin’s powers (which Merlin looked incredibly dubious at), and he smiled proudly when they were told of Merlin and Arthur’s intertwined destinies (the nature of their soul-bond means he already knew they had some sort of great future, and this only proved it). 

It was when Iseldir hesitated slightly as he gave Morgana a pitying look that Leon tensed up, and tightened his grip on her shoulder.

“You must all remember that destinies are... tricky. They are incredibly difficult to avoid, but it isn’t impossible; the future is not set in stone.-”

Morgana takes a deep breath and straightens her back, taking Merlin’s hand in her own and settling her face into a determined grimace:

“Just come out with it. Just tell me.”

Iseldir gives her a comforting smile as he nods, turning a sheet of incredibly ancient looking paper over and pushing it across the table towards them. On the scroll is a old, rough charcoal drawing of a woman with long, dark hair, her clothes somehow elegant and tatty at the same time. Her face is covered by a hood, but her arms are outstretched and violent looking flames extend from her hands, burning and destroying all the foliage drawn around the edge of the paper.

Morgana reaches a shaking hand out to touch the drawing but withdraws her hand before she makes contact, ignoring the tears gathering in her eyes as she looks up at Iseldir again:

“That’s me, isn’t it? Burning things?”

Iseldir nods slowly before speaking, his voice low and gentle, understanding:

“It is said that if you come into your full power, you will unite with The Once and Future King’s Bane. Your heart will freeze over, you will become consumed by hatred and fear and bitterness, and you will work tirelessly to bring about the downfall of Camelot, the downfall of Albion.-”

Arthur interrupts:

“Albion?”

Iseldir moves his gaze to the Prince, giving him a tight smile as he explains:

“The Kingdoms to be united under one name, Albion, with yourself as King.-”

He looks back to Morgana, his smiles turning just a little encouraging:

“-Like I said, the future is not set in stone. Arthur’s Bane came into existence several years ago, we’re keeping close watch on him; he has yet to show any... troubling, signs, nor have you.”

Merlin scowls slightly in though, before slowly saying:

“Arthur’s Bane is... a person?”

Iseldir raises an eyebrow and nods, letting out a breath of subtle relief when Merlin seems more genuinely worried than murderous.

Gwen is the next to speak up, her voice strong and her face determined:

“None of that is happening,-”

She reaches forward and aggressively turns the scroll over, squeezing Morgana’s hand as she continues:

“-not ever.”

Leon’s gasp has everyone’s eyes drawn to the overturned sheet, only to see a colourful image appear on the paper. The first figure to materialize is clearly Morgana, though in this drawing she is grinning, hood down, eyes golden and flowers in her hair. Next, Merlin and Gwen appear either side of her, Merlin’s eyes also glowing as he summons matching flowers in Gwen’s hair, Gwen who is pressing a kiss to Morgana’s cheek. Leon and Arthur appear next, in full armour with bright grins, a golden crown on Arthur’s head.

Iseldir chuckles, looking up at Merlin who is giving himself a satisfied nod as the golden glow fades from his eyes:

“Trusting your instincts indeed; you didn’t even need an incantation, very impressive.”

Merlin shrugs before turning to Morgana with a grin. She returns it with a shaky one of her own, once again feeling not-quite-so-scared thanks to the ever-comforting presence of her family.

~

They slept that night in a large tent that had been prepared for them, and were woken up early the next morning. They were given a proper tour of the camp and introduced to a few people. 

Leon had questions about how the camp was run, in terms of enforcing rules and staying safe, so he was quickly introduced to a few of the elders. Whilst he had been reluctant to leave the others at first, Arthur’s teasing laughter and Morgana’s rolled eyes convinced him to spend the day away from them, learning about as much of Druid politics as he could.

Merlin and Morgana were quickly introduced to the strongest magic users, and whilst Merlin was taken aside to be given some lessons on healing using magic, Morgana was taught meditation techniques and breathing exercises by the camp’s most respected Seer.

Gwen sticks mostly with Merlin; whilst she had no magic to heal with, the herbal knowledge that was being shared was fascinating and she was eager to memorise as much of it as possible. She of course wandered over to check on Morgana occasionally, at first out of concern, but then out of pride, out of a desperation to never forget how relaxed and happy and at-home her soulmate looks.

Arthur spends the morning with Merlin, but quickly grows bored. Perhaps he should take more interest in healing considering how often he and the knights get injured, but he’s already got Merlin, Gaius, and now Gwen, so why waste the effort? Instead, he finds Morgana and the Seer. The sense of relief he feels to see his sister looking so at ease with such an easy smile gracing her face is almost overwhelming, but he doesn’t disturb them, sitting a little way away and silently watching them.

The Prince didn’t even realise he had fallen asleep until the tell-tale pop and the sudden shadow of someone stood above him jolts him from his nap. He opens his eyes blearily to see Merlin crouching next to him, an amused smile on his face and his hand out-stretched:

“Come on sleepy head, the others are waiting for us, it’s time to eat.”

Arthur takes a deep breath, allowing Merlin to pull him up before he stretches and rubs the sleep from his eyes. The sun was only an hour or so away from touching the horizon and he could see no one else in the little patch of woods Morgana had previously been sat in:

“Morgana?”

Merlin smiles softly, taking Arthur’s hand and leading him back towards the tents:

“Happy. She joined me a couple hours ago and we were practicing some simple spells, turns out she has more magic than just visions-”

At Arthur’s slightly affronted expression, Merlin chuckles and rolls his eyes:

“-You were exhausted, Arthur, don’t deny it. You got this holiday because of how hard you’ve been working, we didn’t want to wake you. We’ll show you a few tricks tomorrow alright?”

Arthur pouts and huffs slightly, fighting the smile trying to appear on his face as he nodded his agreement. Merlin just laughed at him again as they entered the meal tent, finding spaces with the other three.

~

The next morning was just as relaxed, though this time the five of them stayed together. 

Leon, Arthur, and Gwen sat against a fallen log as they watched Merlin and Morgana show their magic off. A small audience of Druids had gathered as well, on account of Lord Emrys’ presence, and whilst Morgana tired quickly, not used to having such free access to the magic that had been inside her for years, Merlin could go for hours. He used few actual incantations, manipulating water and flowers and floating lights with just a little concentration and some imprecise waving of his hands. 

Noon, unfortunately, came rather quickly, at which point Leon sighed and stood up, giving Merlin a sad smile before looking to Arthur:

“If we want to be home with a day to spare, we should start the journey soon.”

Arthur nodded in agreement and the rest of the group joins Leon in standing. The Druids disperse fairly quickly, but Iseldir stays with them, giving Merlin a pat on the back and a wide smile:

“It was a pleasure to have you here My Lor- Merlin.”

Merlin snorts in amusements but nods his appreciation, and the five of them wander over to their tent to gather their belongings whilst Iseldir collects the horses. 

It’s only half a candle mark before they’re riding back out into the forest in the direction of Camelot. The teachers and elders, including Iseldir, wave them off with proud smiles, and whilst Merlin and Morgana are sad to leave this sanctuary behind, they were grateful for the freedom and safety and lessons they’d had, even if it was less than two days. Their utter faith that things would change when Arthur took the crown, that one day Camelot would feel just as safe, gave them something beautiful to look forward to as well.

Their journey home was just as uneventful as the journey out. When they finally pulled up into the courtyard with a day and a half of their free week left, Leon took everyone’s horses to the stable and informed a servant to tell the King of their arrival, whilst the others headed straight to Merlin and Hunith’s house. They had to wait for Hunith and Gaius to finish their actual jobs, but soon enough the whole group was crowded around the kitchen table. 

Arthur and Gwen (who, though no one else would admit it, has the best memory of all of them) re-tell the prophecies and destinies.

Both Hunith and Gaius were furious once again at Morgana’s so-called destiny, but smiled proudly at her determined disposition, and the obviously magical drawing (the flowers seemed to move and the golden eyes definitely glowed off of the page) that Merlin pulled from his pocket. The others hadn’t even realised he’d kept it, but are grateful.

Next, Merlin and Morgana talk about their lessons. Gaius was intrigued by the healing knowledge Merlin and Gwen had gained, and after double checking that the door was locked and the curtains were drawn, they even showed off a few spells to their captive audience.

(There were times that Merlin showing off even the slightest bit of magic would give Hunith a heart attack and nightmares for days; she finds it doesn’t bother her so much anymore. She knows that Arthur, Morgana, Leon, and Gwen would never let anything happen to him, and the new stories of his apparent great power certainly helped ease her mind as well.)

Finally, Leon spoke about what he had learned from the elders; all bout how they keep camps running, their democracy, and how knowledge is preserved and passed on. It was a little boring, if any of them are being honest, but the bright grin on the knight’s face kept them from interrupting him.

Eventually, it came time for everyone to head to their respective beds and sleep. There was no denying that they’d had an amazing few days, but it was also a few days of constant activity and sleeping rough... they were all exhausted. 

As Arthur and Merlin curled up under the covers, grateful for the slightly chilled night making cuddling easier, they let out simultaneous breaths of relief.

Arthur ran a hand through Merlin’s hair softly as he quietly spoke, aware of Hunith asleep in the next room:

“You think we’ll be alright?”

Merlin sighs and Arthur tries not to let the anxiety in his stomach swirl too violently at the lengthening silence. Finally, Merlin turns over to face his soulmate, shuffling even impossibly closer and giving Arthur a small smile. Arthur doesn’t comment on the nerves in the younger man’s eyes:

“There’s all this pressure on us to fulfil our destinies, to save the world, it’s a little... overwhelming. My whole childhood I tried to forget the fact that being Prince Arthur Pendragon’s magical soulmate would mean... everything, in one way or another, some day. And now that day is fast approaching, I can feel it, and I still have no clue what I’m doing. And that’s not even considering Morgana.-”

Arthur’s hold around Merlin tenses at the mention of his sister, and Merlin presses a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw before continuing:

“-I would give up all of it, everything, to save her. To see her happy. But... do I really have the right to make that decision? My people are counting on me, but you and Morgana and Leon and Gwen, you come first, and you always will.-”

Merlin rolls onto his back again, staring at the ceiling with furrowed brows as Arthur watches him mournfully:

“-I’ve spent so long being terrified of the fact that I know you would give up your crown if I just asked you to, and now I’m close to making the same decision myself; giving up everything for one person, to the detriment of the world.-”

He turns his head to face Arthur again, tears in his eyes:

“-I don’t know what to do, Arthur.”

The Prince clenches his jaw, having to push down the swell of anger at... everyone really. Kilgharrah, the Druids, the Gods, whosever idea this whole destiny shit was. Arthur often thought of himself as a fully matured adult whose place in the world was clear, but at times like these, he’s reminded of how young he is, and how Merlin is even younger.

He pulls the Warlock into a tight embrace, tucking his dark hair under his chin and running a soft hand over his back:

“I will stand by you, always, and we’ll figure it out, we always do. The future is fluid, Merls, we just have to keep an open mind and push through. We’ve all been through a little bit of hell, but that day? That you can feel approaching? That’s the day we change the world. I’ll force my father from the throne if that’s what it takes,-”

Arthur feels Merlin tense to argue, but rushes on before he can say anything:

“-not just for you, but because it will be the right thing to do, one day. This Kingdom, and then the world, will be golden, and the five of us, and Gaius and your mum, will be together every single step of the way. Ok? You don’t have to do anything, Merlin, not alone, not ever.”

Merlin relaxes again, and Arthur can feel his sigh of relief across his collarbones. The room goes silent for a while, and Arthur only just hears Merlin’s quiet words before he slips into a sleep filled with peaceful dreams full of meadows and flower crowns and golden eyes:

“Yeah... I think we’ll be alright.”

~

THE END!!

After thinking about it for a few days, and re-reading the series, I’ve decided that I actually like the ending here!

I hope y’all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, thanks anon for sending the idea to me all those months ago! :)

#merthur #merthur fluff #bbc merlin #merlin #merlin x arthur #arthur pendragon #prince arthur #uther #ooc uther #uther pendragon #king uther #kilgharrah #leon #protective leon #sir leon #morgana #good morgana #morgwen #gwen #guinevere #morgana and merlin are besties fight me #merthur soulmate au #morgwen soulmate au #merlin/morgana friendship #protective arthur #uther is nice? #druids #emrys #lord emrys #magic

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Olivos(Striker’s Dad)🐍

Spoiler warning, After the events of Western Energy when Striker had that talk with Stolas, it made me think he might’ve lost someone to the Goetias. And with the pattern with Blitz and Fizz’s relationships with higher rank demons, and Striker being also very vocal about that in Oops, makes me wonder if there was a connection. What if Striker lost someone close to him by a Goetia that was using them the way he assumes Blitz and Fizz are by Stolas and Asmodeus. I ended up making an OC based on that!

talked a lot with @a-sterling-rose about him and ideas!!!!

TW blood, sexual talk.

Meet Olivos.

A snake imp from the Greed ring(I imagine he’d get the Wrath traits on his mother’s side) and Striker’s father. In contrast to his gunslinging assassin and macho cowboy of a son, Olivos was a kind, soft-spoken and non-confrontational imp who loved his son dearly and wanted to give him a good life and more chances than he had. He struggled to provide for himself and his son in such a cutthroat and ruthless place like Hell(I’m imagining Strikers mom is etheir dead or atleast out of the picture), but the thing he was able to benefit from the most was his looks and people-pleasing personality. Made him easy to adjust and adapt to new things….but also more likely to be taken advantage of.

He, along with Striker ended up working for(and in Olivos case, was also in relations with) an Ars Goetia and let’s just say Stolas isn’t the first Goetia to be attracted to Imps. He was basically the Goetia’s arm candy, acting as a personal escort to keep company for social events, to present as a status symbol, with the addition of helping with more…intimate events.

Their relationship was like what Striker assumes Blitz and Fizz’s relationships r with Stolas and Ozzie, treated as a plaything, to enjoy the lower class as a cheap thrill, lacking Stolas true genuine devotion and care and treating Olivos more like a pampered pet. Although Olivos was treated to some of the luxury and security the life an Ars Goetia can provide, said Goetia didn’t truly care for how he felt or what he wanted or needed…even as a kid, Striker knew this wasn’t the greatest place for his dad and wanted to get him out of it.

With that said, he always assured Striker not to worry for his situation and supported him to follow his dreams and show the world what he can do, regardless of what rank he is in Hell’s Rings. With all things considered, things were atleast…liveable…until news about his relations with the Goetia were starting to heat up and in order to save face, had him…disposed of.

All that remained was his grieving son who became bent on destroying the Ars Goetia and show his pa he was right about him being able to do things that their kind thought was impossible….or think shouldn't be done…

for his design, I was going for something revealing and seductive as he was desired by the Goetia for that, but also something classy, of high status. I based the cuffs on the ones Blitz had on during his bad trip and went with purple for the Ars Goetia.

His names Olivo is an Italian name, meaning someone who sells olives🫒 for his scale color, olives having positive symbolism such as for peace, and going on the idea of the Greed ring having Italian coding like the Wrath ring having a lot of Western and Latin coding. The s is an add to him being a sssnake🐍🐍🐍

What do u think? What do u think is Striker’s whole deal with the Ars Goetia? I’d love to know💖

#Helluva boss #striker #hb striker #helluva boss striker #fanart #helluva boss fanart #hb fanart #Helluva boss oc #oc #my ocs #my art #oc art #ars goetia #Olivos

[krabmeat]

I have not written anything in some time - since I took a break from my writing account, actually (now deleted) - so cut me some slack here. I’m gonna format this in the same way that I did my old fics for that jolt of serotonin. So, if you would be so kind to indulge me, this is how I (niceimafan) would have submitted this work on fandoesfictionwriting:

What War Does || (platonic) Father Figure c!Phil x Teen gn!Reader

A/N: This is my submission for the 100 follower milestone of the lovely @/krabmeat! Krabs (Damien today) is an amazing friend of mine and is quite possibly the best human being in the world. (Go follow him if you haven’t already!)

War struggles paired with the classic familial miscommunication, what could be better as a way for me to get back into writing? This takes place around the time of Doomsday, or the final battle/destruction. Also I can’t remember if Wilbur’s room was still there at the time of Doomsday because I have goldfish memory so pretend it was if it wasn’t.

Requested: No

{Word Count: 1,946}

CW: intense arguing, mentions of war, mentions of death, cursing (up to the f-word), caps, use of godforsaken (I don’t know if people get triggered by that? I’m not religious so I wouldn’t know), very brief mention of spit, less than great relationship with father

This is an xreader fic!

This has been proofread. (skimmed rip I don’t like reading my writing)

- In which Y/N and Phil argue about Y/N and their right to participate in Doomsday. -

Phil works away high in the sky, loading cannons with enough TNT to detonate a nation. He, Techno, and Dream have everything planned out; you know because they did all of the planning right in front of you. Meaning you know everything they are going to do, and you aren’t even allowed to be involved.

You avert your eyes from your father and pick mindlessly at some grass instead, feeling the cold breeze of afternoon cool your flaming temper. For a moment, it appears as though everything might be fine, like you could get over this and let the Big War Men do their thing. But then Phil’s boots appear in front of you, and it’s all ruined again.

“You look miserable,” he says. Phil finishes his sentence with an airy laugh, trying to convey that he’s trying to joke with you. And so you make sure that the gaze you shoot him ensures he understands you do not find him humorous. Phil sighs, taking a seat beside you.

“Look, I understand that you want to help. I do! But I also understand that people with a spirit as strong as yours have risen to unimaginable heights, only to crash back down onto the blade of loss. And I fear that you will be no different.” Phil places his hand on your shoulder. “I just want you to be safe.”

You shrug him off, turning your neck so fast to glare at him it leaves a sharp stinging sensation in your movement’s wake. “Safe? You want me to be safe? No one is safe here, and you know that.”

“Y/N, you know-”

“What, Phil? What do I know? Because according to you, it doesn’t seem like a lot.” You stand after that, stomping off in an attempt to clear your mind, hoping Phil won’t follow you. But, of course, he does.

“Y/N, wait.” He shouts, but he makes no move to speed up or stop you. He simply follows along at a distance, saying nothing else. Probably waiting for you to make the first move. But you refuse, you refuse to let him win this and watch you break again.

And so the two of you walk in silence, you with no destination in mind and Phil’s footsteps echoing yours calmly in the distance. All you can do is follow your feet to wherever they find fit for this argument to play out.

To your amusement, you find yourself in Wilbur’s old room. Where he blew up his dreams for the first time and where Phil took the life of his son. How fitting.

You finally come to a stop, taking a brief moment to collect yourself, before spinning around on your heel to address your father. “Ph- Phil?” It does shock you to find that Phil isn’t there. He’s not standing behind you with a small, comforting smile, or with his eyebrows pinched together in a way that lets you know you’re going to be scolded. Nothing.

“You dress like him, you know.” Phil says from behind you. You whirl around again, reaching for your sword on instinct. Phil stands with his hands clasped behind his back, staring out over the soon-to-be battlegrounds.

“What?” It feels like you’ve lost all air in your lungs. Phil doesn’t just say things like that, especially not to you. And of course you know who he’s talking about; Techno doesn’t wear tattered trench coats and Tommy hasn't adorned ripped up fingerless gloves to protect from burns, to your knowledge. But speaking of Wilbur when referring to another child of his in this room in particular hit you in a place you have not yet built walls in.

“Wilbur. You dress like him.” Phil turns around, and you finally see that his eyes are watering. But he still has that sympathetic smile plastered on his face. “Every day, you remind me of him. And in doing so, you remind me that I can not let you turn out the way that Will did.

“Wilbur was changed by war. He destroyed everything he worked for because of it. And for that to happen to you, with such grand dreams and ideas, it would be heartbreaking.” Phil can’t maintain eye contact with you anymore, “I just want you to be everything that Wilbur couldn’t have been.”

You let his words sink in, and as they do, you begin to fight with yourself.

He just wants to help you!

How, by comparing me to his dead son? Yeah, something about that doesn’t feel right.

Just hear him out.

You grit your teeth, balling up and releasing your fingers into and out of fists. “I am not Wilbur.”

Phil shakes his head, rubbing the place where his eyebrows crease together. “I know that, and that’s not what I’m trying to sa-”

“Yes, that is exactly what you just said!” You begin to raise your voice, getting tired of this stupid game you two are playing with each other. Lying about what you’re really talking about to try and avoid the inevitable. “You just compared me to your dead son that went crazy and blew up everyone’s homes! The one that sold drugs out of a damn hot dog van!”

The air around you seemed to heat up as tensions between you two started to rise, Phil clearly getting more angry as well. “You are not Wilbur, but you are my child!”

“Oh, am I? Am I, Philza? And how long have I been your child for, huh? My whole life, a year, a few months, just this past hour? You have been trying and failing to be my father figure because you just see me as some rogue that could get too far out of control unless you’re there. Isn’t that right?”

“No, of course not. I just-”

“No! How could I have not realized? You just want a replacement! Someone to fill the hole that was left in your poor old heart when you stabbed your son through the chest.”

“I love you, Y/N, you don’t understand! You are like a child to me, you always have been! From the moment that I met you, I saw greatness in you. I swear, you mean more to me than just some replacement for Wilbur.”

Tears burn your eyes, the singular one that fell leaving a streak through the gunpowder and dirt smudged on your cheeks. You shake your head and scoff, unable to believe that this is the conversation you are currently stuck in. “Phil, that’s the kind of bullshit that you have to tell yourself in order to sleep at night. But guess what? It doesn’t work on me.”

“It doesn’t have to ���work on you’, it’s just the truth, Y/N. I don’t know how I can get you to believe me.”

“You can’t, Phil.” You say, trying to ignore the way your voice cracks. “Because I have believed people, and then those people have either died, or tried to kill me, or both. So you know what I did? I grew up, Phil. Because THAT is what war does. 

“It doesn’t make you write sad song lyrics on the walls, it doesn’t make you love your father figure oh so dearly, all it does is make you realize that there is more in this world to deal with than whatever any one person can do. And once you wrap your head around that, you realize that the best you can do is make the smallest of dents, and hope some other people do the same. That is how this world works, Phil.

“And do you know what my dent is going to be?” Phil has blurred by now. Once you blink the tears away, you can see that he’s crying too. Good. Now you’re really on the same page. “Blowing up this godforsaken nation once and for all.”

You turn to walk away again, hopefully for the last time, but Phil actually makes a move to stop you before you can get anywhere. “Y/N, I refuse to allow you to go out there and risk your life for a war already fought.”

“No war is already fought until people are dead.” You snap at him, resisting the urge to spit on his boots. “Besides, I can handle myself, I don’t need you to tell me who I can and can’t fight.”

“Y/N, I am your father!” Phil’s voice practically echoes through the entire SMP as he shouts at you, finally just as mad as you wanted him to be. You’re convinced people on the other side of L’Manberg can hear you two arguing. “Listen to me, you can not risk this.”

“YOU ARE NO FATHER TO ME!” You scream, getting your face as close to Phil’s as possible while still being able to look into both of his eyes. Phil’s eyes widen, whether in pain, shock, or both, you don’t know, but he quickly recovers with a stare solid enough to cut through stone. 

“Do NOT turn this argument to family matters when we are discussing life and death!”

“This is no longer a discussion, dad,” you make sure to add as much venom to the name as possible, “We are not talking this out like a father scolds his young kid about what they can and can not touch in the house. We are screaming, and shouting, and ruining relationships like adults.” You try one more time to walk out. This time you make it down to the ground floor, but Phil follows you yet again, stopping you before you can reach the Prime Path. 

“You aren’t an adult, though.” Phil’s voice is softer now, he sounds like he’s on the verge of defeat. “You’re still a kid. You shouldn’t have to deal with all of this.” 

“I was made an adult because of this damn war over some stupid place, I should be able to fight for it’s destruction like one.” You also stop shouting, but you don’t soften your voice. You keep it as firm as it can be despite your wobbly crying, letting Phil know that you are no longer playing games with him like you used to.

“I know that you could. I do. But that does not mean that you should.”

“Awwe, you really think so?” You feign a high-pitched voice, even clasping your hands together under your chin. “You honestly think that I can handle something more than a boo-boo, huh?”

“You know that I am making no attempt to infantilize you, Y/N. If you’re such an adult, you need to grow up. I do believe that you could fight for us, but I do not see it as wise.”

“Bullshit,” you say again, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. Phil tries to speak again, but you cut him off. “No. No! No, I don’t want you to tell me over and over about what I can and can’t do. About how you think I could be a good ally to you. I already know that, because I can make my own decisions. 

“Do you know what I do want, Philza? I bet that’s something that your infinitely wise mind can’t think of. All that I want, all that I have wanted for the past SIX. FUCKING. YEARS. Is for you to just take me seriously for once in your damn life!”

Philza stands there in silence, seemingly dumbfounded, and you take this as your chance to stomp off for good. But you know full well that you’ll see Phil tomorrow. On the battlefield.

But you won’t be fighting for him, or Tommy, or Wilbur, or any of them. Tomorrow, you fight for yourself, and you win for yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DUDE WHAT?!?!?! INK THIS IS IMMACULATE HOW IN THE- WHAT THE F-CK THE WAY YOU CAPTURE THE ANGER AND FEELINGS AND HESITATION OF THE ARGUMENT IS SO WELL DONE!! AND THE FLOW OF TRANSITIONING FROM ONE SETTING TO ANOTHER ISNT CLUMPY OR FORCED AT ALL, THIS IS ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL INK! AND THE BUILDUP TO THE QUOTE, THE WAY YOU REALLY EMBODY ALL OF THE CHARACTERS IS SO MASTERFULLY DONE DEAR, AMAZING JOB!!!

#submission #hope you dont mind the tags ajdjslsol #xreader #x reader #platonic #platonic x reader #platonic xreader #c!phil x reader #c!phil x teen!reader #father figure c!phil #angst #dreamsmp x reader #dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #writing event

[haechanhues]

ENHYPEN as Empathy Tracks (D.O)

pairing : enhypen x reader

genre : fluff.  very soft. 

warnings : - 

summary : since kyungsoo released empathy i’ve been listening to his tunes and linking them to enhypen members.    

Rose - D.O 

A new relationship 

Crush turned relationship :) 

Twiddling fingers, heart shaped pupils

‘I go to a local florist. No matter how hard I think about, which flower I want to give you. The only flower I know is a rose.’

I love this line so much. 

Imagine Jake’s little smile and going to the florist. 

‘With courage, carrying an arm full of flowers.’

‘You are prettier than a rose actually. I can’t express my feelings in words. Even though I look shy. And cheesy, I can’t help it. From today we are lovers.’

Doesn’t really need big gestures - tiny little things that keep the love alive in his heart. He feels what he feels and does his best to express it.

Sincerity in purest form. Maybe not quite knowledgable but very sincere.

Jake blowing his cheeks up as he nervously prepares himself to approach you. 

I’m Gonna Love You ft Wonstein - D.O 

Naturally in love

Because he is in love - he doesn’t know any different. Doesn’t necessarily know what it means not to be in love.

It’s just how it is.

‘Like drinking a cup of coffee in the morning. Like the sun rising, facing the west, It’s so easy to love you.’

Simplicity is best. 

‘Yeah, I’m gonna, I’m gonna love you. It’s like taking a breath. I’m gonna love. It’s so easy.’

Even though he may potentially struggle or the relationship will have setbacks, because that person is someone they love and too important to them, they’ll do their best.

‘I learn everything. I’ve been so foolish. Because of the way you smile. I’ll do my best for you.’

In it for the long run. 

Dedicated to the relationship. 

Prepared to fight through the inevitable setbacks in their relationship. Setbacks are normal. But nothing matters more to him than you. 

My Love - D.O 

‘We walk together through this night air. The temperature and weather suits you. The night sky, the starlight, your eyes. Everything I see with my eyes. That’s just my love.’

Imagine being on a walk with him, the night air doesn’t bother you and maybe he’s holding your hand, or your hands are in his pockets. Maybe you’re sharing a jacket or walking snuggled up with one blanket. Maybe you’ve got matching thick winter coats. 

He comes home from work or any other commitment that requires being outside or separated. 

You come home from work or any other commitment that requires being outside or separated. 

It’s tough work. You both feel like you need a nap but you agree to spend this bracket of free time to go on a walk together to enjoy each other’s company. 

(Before returning home and having a nap together) 

Even though may be busy and may be too tired, he’ll still love and is comforted by the relationship/love.

Spending time whenever possible despite conflicting/hard schedules.

Enjoyment in its purest form.

It’s Love - D.O 

Despite setbacks, wanting to be in love - wanting to feel comforted and understood.

Somewhat of an bright glow. 

Always working. Always having this energy or livelihood. 

‘My heart never sleeps. It’s a heart I’ve forgotten for awhile. Even if things always fall apart when I look forward to them. That is not the end. Turn the page one more time. It’s the coming love.’

‘It is a bigger world. Look at each other in the eye and hold hands. Grow old together. What makes me want to be together with you for the last time. Is that you are love’

Youth. 

Niki being a little nuisance - making sure you’re always spending the day well and making sure every little moment is worth it for your journal.

Every tomorrow is a new day. 

Opening up to other forms of love and opportunities. That they’re all around us.

Another chance.

Slightly sad. But not too much. A sad that will eventually or easily be comforted.

Dad - D.O 

Holding Dad’s hand

Memories - nostalgia

The realisation of space, time and self.

‘I walk slowly, following you. The dazzling sunset light is coming down. It spreads to that warm back. While you, who has been infinitely kind, ran non-stop. I was unknowingly growing up too.’

An appreciation of those around you. 

Those that you love dearly but are so normal to you that sometimes you forget how much they mean to you. 

‘I want to be more like you. To you, I’m still a child. I’m still learning life from you. So that your time is filled with more dazzling memories. I always try to face you and be with you. My father.’

‘You’ve endlessly looked strong. You’ve had to turn around and endure things alone. I became old enough to know a little about that.’

‘The sound of your bright laughter. With this beautiful night that grows deeper. It has been In my memory for a long time. That you and I are very similar.’

You watch three shadows walk along the path. 

One shadow belongs to Heeseung’s father who is a bit older but still manages to keep a good stride. Perhaps even better than the other two. He watches his son with love in his eyes because his son may be an adult now, he is still his baby. 

Another shadow belongs to Heeseung who stands tall and proud. Strong. But always looking around his legs. 

Because the third and final shadow is your own son who wobbles on his little legs and watches the world with curious eyes. He keeps a firm grasp on his dad’s legs, not wanting to be separated. 

‘An exceptionally starry night. I’m proud of you, you shine even brighter. More beautiful than the harsh world.’

Reliability.

The rock you leaned on in times of conflict or inner torment breathed too.

I’m Fine - D.O 

Nostalgia

‘The many memories and our fluttering hearts. Are they gradually disappearing from our memory?’

Fear?

‘How are you? How are you doing? Is it the day you’ve been hoping for? Like you asked me, I asked you. ‘I’ve been doing well.’ Without hesitating for a moment, I sincerely hope you tell me ‘I’m fine’…. With that phrase, me too, I’m fine.’

Wants to know what the other is thinking. Wants to be able to care about each other, to understand each other, to communicate innermost feelings. 

‘At the end of a long day. I’m gradually losing my way. I’ve been wandering all night, comforting myself. Seeing only the good things. Hearing only the good things. May I be filled with good thoughts.’

Doubts

Reflection.

Moments spent, flicking through your teenage journal with the widest smile on his face. 

You started dating when you were in high school and at the time wrote little entires in your diary with the thought he wouldn’t read a single world. 

But he spends the whole afternoon reading your words. The way you felt about him then, asking questions, smiling. You were in such a rush to try everything when you were younger but now-  

‘Before it’s too late, let’s try it together, one thing at a time. Don’t worry about things on your own. Don’t regret things anymore. Even the small wishes, one thing at a time, the two of us.’

Si Fueras Mia - D.O 

‘Everyday you wake up in my arms. I wake you up with little kisses filled with love. How nice we have it, you and I. And I sing you the songs that you like. Every lyric that I write is for you. But I only know you in my dreams, my love.’

‘Ooh, if only you were mine. The places I would take you to. To see you happy and to see you smile. There is nothing I wouldn’t do. I would give you the entire world in a second. If only you were mine.’

Crush?

‘I drown within your eyes and there is no salvation.’

Hope.

Daydreaming.

The promise to travel. To see the world when everything is all over. To experience things you’ve always talked about. When you can enjoy it wholeheartedly. 

It’s his gift to you. 

author’s note : went overboard with heeseung but now i’m like imagining dad!heeseung. 

#enhypenwriters #enhypen fic #enhypen heeseung fic #enhypen jay fic #enhypen jake fic #enhypen sunghoon fic #enhypen sunoo fic #enhypen jungwon fic #enhypen niki fic #enhypen bulleted au #enhypen fluff #enhypen heeseung fluff #enhypen jay fluff #enhypen jake fluff #enhypen sunghoon fluff #enhypen sunoo fluff #enhypen jungwon fluff #enhypen niki fluff

[dini73]

Not Today

It's finally here! Thanks so much @whatsmyline-pb for all your help and all you wonderful people out there who always are such an inspiration and motivation. Anyone who wants to be added to the tag list, please let me know.

Fandom: Vikings Rating: Mature Categories: M/F; M/M Relationships: Ivar/Hvitserk; Ivar/Heahmund; Ivar/Reader Trigger warning for mentioning of past drug abuse, loss of loved one, psychological child abuse; see Ao3 for all tags Words: 3808

Bright sunlight blinded Hvitserk’s eyes when he climbed up higher and higher into the huge oak, closely followed by his little brother.

“Wait for me,” he heard toddler Ivar cheerfully giggle. “I’ll get you, Hvitserk!”

And Hvitserk turned around, looking into Ivar’s shining eyes, light blue like a frozen lake and yet full of life and warmth. Tiny teeth innocently exposed to the sun, a chubby hand reaching out to his older brother who leaned forward to grip it and lift Ivar up to the next branch. But just as their soft hands touched, Ivar slipped and Hvitserk couldn’t do anything but watch in horror as his little brother fell and fell until he landed in the meadow below with a dull thud.

The sound went straight to Hvitserk’s core, pumping adrenaline through his veins and waking him up with a racing heartbeat, breathing hard, bare chest covered in cold sweat.

“Ivar,” he breathed panicked, still trying to fully escape the dream, having already stumbled out of bed and towards the entrance of his apartment. There in a little clay bowl, made by his half-sister Gyda, were the keys to the next-door apartment, which belonged to his younger brother, Ivar.

When Hvitserk arrived in his brother’s pitch-dark bedroom, he was devastated to make out the shadow of Ivar on the floor. That could only mean two things: that his baby brother was deadly drunk…or worse.

Not sure which option he’d have to face, Hvitserk slowly knelt. He stretched his arm out but hesitated to let his hand touch Ivar yet.

“Hey brother? Ivar!” and when he carefully shook his brother’s shoulder and was not yelled at, he started to wish Ivar was drunk. Selfishly, Hvitserk longed for the less painful explanation, knowing what followed would break both their hearts. Again.

He carefully leaned over Ivar and whispered, “It’s okay, I’m here.” Then he stood up, turned back the covers on the bed and waited for his brother to drag himself onto it. The ongoing silence, so unlike his brother, scared Hvitserk. After Ivargot himself up and into bed Hvitserk’s heart felt enormously heavy, and he got to bed as well, lining himself up behind his brother, carefully pushing one of his knees between Ivar’s cold, lifeless legs. Just when he lay his arm around Ivar’s waist, offering his other arm as a pillow, the latter mumbled, barely audible, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Fuck. What is he supposed to say to that? “It’s all going to be okay”? Because how could it? They both knew it would be such a lie.

So instead Hvitserk drew Ivar closer and asked him: “Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that. Breathe.”

After a few minutes Ivar’s breathing steadied and Hvitserk calmed down a bit himself, only to start wondering what had put Ivar in such a state. His thoughts wandered and Hvitserk didn’t realise that he was slowly drifting back to sleep until a rough voice suddenly mumbled, “I wish I could be just like everyone else. Not standing out. Not in constant pain. And not needing to be looked after.”

And while that should have made Hvitserk’s heart break, it nearly cheered him up; all his brother longed for, was so reasonable. But above all, the bitterness with which he proclaimed his dreams, although only whispered, showed his strength. Yes, he might be in despair, and who wouldn’t? But Ivar would never give up. That was something Hvitserk was so sure of in that moment.

He cleared his throat: “Well my dear brother, if you of all the people would be just like everybody else, this world would be a damn boring place.” And he knew how Ivar smiled in that moment even if he couldn’t see it, and he felt his chest broaden. And he went on: “And -as much as it hurts me to admit - someone so remarkable, like you, will always stand out.” And hey, that even earned him a little huff.

Ivar had taken his brother’s hand and their thumbs brushed over each other’s fingers, just the way they had done when they were kids.

“Regarding the pain, brother; not the one who never fell, but the one who always stood up again is the strongest of them all.”

“That some wisdom of your Buddha, huh?” Ivar teased playfully.

“Fuck you,” Hvitserk smiled and hurried to bury his face in Ivar’s neck. They both knew that these two words were actually saying: “There is nothing in this world I’d rather do than to take care of you. I love you.”

It was silent again. No cars were driving outside yet and Hvitserk couldn’t even hear a bird over the loud pulsing of his blood. It must be between two or three o’clock in the morning.

Ivar’s strong hands clasped close around his brother’s wrist while his right elbow punched Hvitserk playfully in his side.

“Hey,” he complained.

Ivar then twisted his upper body, pushed himself a bit up and turned his face towards his brother. Their lips were just inches apart and Hvitserk felt Ivar’s warm breath on his when he looked him deep in the eyes and then hummed a drowsy, “Good night”.

They must have fallen asleep straight afterwards since Hvitserk couldn’t remember closing his eyes at all, but now, awake again, he heard many birds chirping outside. Once more he was grateful, they had not only found neighbouring apartments, but that they had come with a roof terrace. Not only thecoolest thing for parties but also a great space to grow strawberries in the summer, some herbs, tomatoes lavender and some tiny trees, which attracted a lot of tiny birds. Sometimes Hvitserk was still surprised how much he really liked gardening, but it had helped him a lot during his past struggle. Taking care of something that could grow and prosper under his touch, through his care, proved to him once again that he was needed and able to do good.

It had always been like that though, Hvitserk had always been the one everyone in the family could rely on. He had always gladly helped and still it was just so often overlooked. Being sandwiched between siblings— three older, two elevated by their superior lineage, and the two youngest, so loud and demanding, constantly fighting for their parent’s attention— Hvitserk shared the fate of most middle children; being taken granted for by everyone.

Somehow no one had ever wondered, why it was him who started to get up at night and go over to the room Sigurd and Ivar shared as kids when the latter cried. Hvitserk didn’t blame Sigurd though, who was still so young himself, and he would never blame anyone anyway. Still, sometimes he had wondered why Ubbe never thought it was his duty as the eldest to help their overtired parents by looking after Ivar at night sometimes. After a while Hvitserk’s sleep got so light that Ivar just had to whimper, and his older brother was there to soothe him before his parents even heard anything.

Of course, it was their mom, and only she, who was able to get through to Ivar when he was in really bad pain, when he had another broken bone or had extreme growing pains. And during the days it was Ubbe or their dad who made sure to keep Ivar entertained and occupied as good as possible, as much as Aslaug allowed, to distract Ivar from his chronic pain. But it was always Hvitserk who calmed Ivar when he had a bad dream or was sad and frustrated and couldn’t sleep because the rising pain kept him awake. Then his older brother would carefully cuddle up to him and retell him the stories he himself had just heard from Ubbe. Hvitserk loved Ubbe dearly and his storytelling abilities was only one of the many things Hvitserk admired him for.

Cuddling up to each other became their routine, and then sometimes Hvitserk would stroke his baby brother’s back in calming circles, sometimes he just held his tiny shaking hand, sometimes he’d whisper stories and sometimes it took never-ending assurances of “it will soon be better” before Ivar fell asleep again.

The calming circles was a trick Gyda had shown him; Hvitserk was sure that he would have had no chance of ever looking after Ivar if Gyda and Björn had lived in the same house. But sharing the same property with two main houses was all Lagertha and Aslaug could agree to. The houses had to be in fact the exact replicas, his father grumbling that this made him look like an idiot to the rest of Kattegat, while Aslaug was furious hers wasn’t bigger, as she had given him not only two but four children and one needed special care, while Lagertha always played the “but I was his first wife and gave birth to his first son” card. This bickering had been a constant background noise to them all throughout their childhood.

The kids all got along well. Sometimes it seemed as if they were making up for their parent’s constant fighting. Hvitserk looked up to Ubbe, Ubbe adored Björn, Sigurd was a needy little pest but was always kept in check by their sweet sister Gyda who was the one person all of them always instantly listened to, even though she never raised her voice. And they all loved their baby brother Ivar.

Looking back, Hvitserk thought that never raising her voice had worked wonders for Gyda and had been her superpower in the often so loud household. Wherever she went, Gyda exuded an atmosphere of calm and friendliness.

Hvitserk missed his half-sister, while, lost in thought, he stroked a strand of damp hair from Ivar's forehead. After some time, he carefully made sure that Ivar was still asleep and then snuck out of the bed and back to his own apartment.

These neighbouring apartments had been a gift from the gods, just when both had needed a wink from fate. After Hvitserk got released from rehab Aslaug didn’t want to have him in their house anymore. She was very outspoken about it and about her reason for it: she feared for Ivar. Those words, yelled in a high-pitched voice, made Ivar doubt his mother’s sanity for the second time in his life. Her angry announcement also led to a fierce fight between Ragnar and Athelstan; Athelstan didn’t want to waste a moment before welcoming Hvitserk in the home he and Ragnar shared. But Ragnar proclaimed that it would do Hvitserk no good if he wasn’t forced to stand on his own feet again.

Being of age and with both his parents not wanting him around, Hvitserk was overjoyed that his little brother was finally sick of Aslaug’s suffocating love and was similarly anxious to get out of the toxic household.

It also helped immensely that Ragnar’s guilty consciousness led him to move mountains and loads of money to grant them their neighbouring apartments over the roofs of Copenhagen.

Aslaug had a fit that someone in a wheelchairwould want to move to a roof top loft, but all three men had done their best to just ignore her. The boys would swear they had later heard their dad’s thoughts on exactly where their mom could shove her concerns regarding the roof top, as they argued on the street.

The modern building had an excellent lift, and the character of the loft gave Ivar all the space he needed. Ragnar made sure that his good friend Floki oversaw any needed adjustments in regards of the widths of the doors or the accessibility of the terrace.

Ivar’s apartment also had adjusted furniture throughout all rooms and Floki took pride in designing the kitchen himself.

Now, back in his own apartment, the cold blanket over Hvitserk’s unused bed made him shiver as he wrapped himself in it. He couldn’t fall asleep again. Instead, he lay there, stared at his ceiling, a wave of emotions suddenly clashing over him. The last three years had been such a roller coaster.

Thora.

His fingers clung to the blanket almost painfully.

Hvitserk pressed his eyes together and forced himself to try some steady breaths, just as he had shown to Ivar only a few hours ago. After a few minutes, he breathed out deeply, opened his eyes and mumbled into the darkness: “You did well. You overcame things, Hvits. You did it and you can still do it.” And suddenly, his anxiety switched to a slightly hysterical laughter. “Oh fuck!” he laughed staring at the ceiling again. “I’m such a pathetic loser, mumbling to myself in the dark…”

But his words didn’t contain any heat and a small smile formed on his lips since he knew he wasn’t a pathetic looser. At least definitely not when it came to other people. Hvitserk knew that he was a good brother. Especially to Ivar. Always had, always would be.

Hvitserk relaxed a bit more in his bed and thought back to their childhood again. He had always understood Ivar’s despair, his illness making him incapable to certain aspects of life. Hvitserk had never looked to the side or pretend not to hear when small sniffles filled his brother’s bedroom. Hvitserk could never stand anyone being in pain.

That’s how he and Ivar had become inseparable, even though Hvitserk had never stopped loving spending time with Ubbe. But the nights filled with hidden sobs belonged to him and his baby brother. When they had gotten a bit older and started school, they started to hide their cuddling from the rest, Hvitserk always sneaking back to his bed before anyone woke up. Just as they had done now. But nevertheless, hiding it sometimes didn’t sit well with Hvitserk since they weren’t doing anything wrong. And he often longed for owning up to it.

Especially when the comforting felt so good.

******

The next time Hvitserk woke was thanks to his vibrating phone. With narrowed eyes he tapped around his bed to find it. The sun was already shining brightly into his room, and he wondered what time it was.

With a groan he opened the screen but then smiled.

Ivar had sent a picture of his famous pancakes and the teasing/taunting message, “Liking them cold now?”

Hvitserk answered with the running man emoji and jumped out of bed to get a quick shower.

About 15 minutes and a stack of freshly made pancakes later, Ivar asked, “Good?” with a raised eyebrow, rather amused about the way Hvitserk stuffed the sweets in.

“Sure,” Hvitserk grinned and held his coffee cup up shaking it in the air in silent request.

“Huh! Don’t you have legs, anymore?” Ivar huffed with mocked indignation, nevertheless taking the cup and limping towards his fancy coffee machine.

Those were the good moments. And Ivar had them, and they both loved them, but there was still the underlying question about last night. While Ivar pushed the buttons on the shiny coffee machine to make his brother an Americano, Hvitserk started to play around on his phone.

And there it was, the explanation for last night:

Special needs Ragnarsson to join university of Copenhagen

There are pictures too. They must have caught Ivar yesterday afternoon; looking very grumpy while he had tried to climb the stairs of the university, struggling with his crutches while carrying the registration paperwork under one arm as well.

“Ivar…” he sighed, a dull plain already clenching around his heart.

He could see how Ivar’s back muscles stiffened before he hissed a frustrated: “Don’t.”

Gosh, how Hvitserk hated the paparazzi for what they were constantly doing to them. If it wasn’t him being caught drunk, Björn with some women or Sigurd with some guy, they could always rip on Ivar.

“You could’ve…” he started but got harshly interrupted by his brother.

“No, I can’t always run whining to Ubbe, okay?” He slammed his coffee angrily on the table with such a force, that little droplets of coffee splashed to his plate. “And I won’t! Besides they just caught me off guard,” Ivar hissed through gritted teeth.

They both sat silently for a while, trying to concentrate on their breakfast, which no longer tasted that good, with all the tension in the air.

Ivar knew his brother was just worried about him, but he didn’t need that, well at least he didn’t want it. He wanted to stand up for himself and make his own decisions. And it was probably this thought that made him admit: “I visited mom, afterward.”

He didn’t even have to look over to Hvitserk to know how immediately tense he became. Biting his lower lip, a frown on his forehead Ivar prepared himself to hear a litany of reasons why that had been a fucking stupid idea.

Just as Hvitserk opened his mouth, Ivar got ahead of him. Looking out of the huge window, concentrating on the clouds to avoid looking at his brother, he admitted in a low voice:

“I just had to, Hvit. I wanted to show her the stuff from university and just share that with her.” And then he turned around facing his brother, suddenly quite furiously: “Just because you all hate her, I don’t, okay!?”

Hvitserk dropped his fork in resignation. Pancakes or not, it was too early to have this discussion again. And while he wondered how they could have arrived at this argument again, his phone beeped.

Ubbe: Is he okay?

Hvitserk huffed, rolled his eyes, and typed the fitting emoji in the box, adding, “what do you think?” Then added another message: “for even more fun, he went to see mother afterwards…”

Ubbe: ugh, one day I’ll get her a restraining order, I swear!

Hvitserk: only if you want Ivar never to speak to you again…

Unnerved from the typing, Ivar felt he’d lash out on his brother any second when he got a message himself.

The sender startled him, though, and a surprised “Huh” escaped his lips. He was supporting himself with one hand on the kitchen island, staring at his mobile in the other with quite some disbelieve.

“What’s it?”

“It’s from Lagertha,” Ivar frowned.

Abandoning his own mobile and instead reaching for the last pancake – because tension or not, Hvitserk was definitely not wasting any food - he wondered what Lagertha was up to.

They all tried to be civil with her, although being honest and more precise, it was only Ivar and he who needed some effort to behave around her. Ubbe had always adored her, although maybe Ubbe had only always adored Björn and dreamt about having the same mother as his big idol.

And do not get him started on Sigurd. That idiot would write an essay about the hardships of this poor, hard fighting women, who lost her husband to some bitch of a woman. Whose then ex-husband never stop hitting on her and dreaming about the three of them living together before he finally gave up on both and moved on. On to Athelstan, the ex-priest he had fallen in love with on one of his many travels.

It was no wonder Sigurd adored Lagertha as she had never - in contrast to both his biological parents – looked down on his musical aspirations as weak, and even supported him to try turn his passion into a proper job. Nonetheless, Hvitserk never understood why his little brother had come out as bisexual to Lagertha first and not to their father, given his current situation. That was one step too many if you asked Hvitserk. He and all his brothers would have been – well were – supportive of Sigurd. The fact he trusted Lagertha more than them, had driven a wedge between Sigurd and him. It had hurt and confused him, and he didn’t want to dislike Sigurd. And sometimes Hvitserk thought it had just been another way for his younger brother to get attention.

For a very short time Sigurd had been the family’s baby and gotten all their mother’s attention. She was so proud of him when he was born with a sign in his eyes. She had been walking around telling everyone about old sagas and that “Sigurd Snake in the Eye” was born for higher things. And then Ivar was born and all of Aslaug’s attention was drawn to him.

As understandable as it was that Ivar needed more attention than other babies, Aslaug just completely forgot about Sigurd. Forgot about all of them, actually, but Hvitserk and Ubbe had already been at an age where not too much attention from their mother was actually welcomed. Whereas Sigurd was just a toddler himself and didn’t understand what he could have done wrong to be totally wiped from his mother’s plate. Still craving for her love and attention, Sigurd identified Ivar as the cause of his misery and had despised him since then.

It was entirely thanks to Gyda that things between the two youngest never escalated. She had always put so much effort in bringing the two youngest together and creating a mutual understanding for each other’s situations. And while their dad was grateful, in awe of his daughter, both of his ex-wives, at some point, grew weary of Gyda’s efforts. Hvitserk never understood what had happened then and neither Lagertha nor his mother ever cared to explain anything to them. One day, Gyda had simply left. It had taken a whole year for her to reach out to them again.

“What does she want?” Hvitserk sighed, not sure if he really cared. Sometimes Hvitserk just wanted his former, very uncomplicated life back. The life they had, when their parents were still together, the life prior to Sigurd getting caught being fucked up the ass by a slimy music producer or Hvitserk lying in his own vomit after a bad trip. No, don’t think back to the drugs, he instantly told himself. He closed his eyes and wished that Ivar either wouldn’t notice his trembling hand or would think that it was Lagertha stressing him out. After all, he had been clean for nearly two years now.

Luckily Ivar didn’t seem to realise his sudden instability or maybe put it down as him still needing more sugar. He didn’t comment on it, at least, but instead explained:

“She said some guy saw one of my photographs at her home and asked if there was more. He might be interested in buying.”

“Oh. Well, that’d be cool, no?” Hvitserk replied with a full mouth.

Ivar huffed, and then looked at his brother. He had a smirk on his lips and didn’t seem to be angry any longer: “Well, definitely cooler than the guy’s name.”

Hvitserk raised an eyebrow questioningly. And when Ivar read, with exaggerated clarity, “Heahmund” they both started to laugh.

@not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pieces-by-me @punkrocknpearls @vikingstrash

#vikings au #vikings fanfiction #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #hvitserk #vikings hvitserk #ragnarssons #ragnar lothbrok #heahmund x ivar #ivar x reader #floki #athelstan #lagertha #gyda #vikings #sigurd #vikings ubbe #aslaug #vikings bjorn