#he needs a trial by fire. give him even more trauma | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

misguidedasgardian · 7 months

Text

The Hour of the Wolf (2)

MASTERLIST

Summary: The trials begin

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, threats of mutilation, death, I think is considered genocide because is a bunch of people, DRAGONFIREEEE. SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon

MINORS DNI +18

Wordcount: 3.7 k

Notes: Reader has purple eyes and silver hair!

They opened the door to your chambers slowly, to not scare you, to let you know of their arrival

“Lord Cregan Stark”, muttered the guard posted at her door

You didn’t even looked at him, you didn't care, you just looked over at Blackwater Bay, where hundreds of ships were making port, the banner of the House Arryn was waving in the highest masts

Too late

You thought

The Arryns, The Starks, the Tullys, all your mother’s bannermen had come to the capital, to you

Important, unprecedented, powerful

And yet

it meant nothing

it was too late

Your mother, your father figures, your siblings, they were all dead, gone, killed, betrayed, slain, devoured, sunk

“Your grace”, the wolf called, “I have taken the city in your mother’s name”, he said firmly, “in your name”, he continued, “and if you allow me, I will bring justice to her”, you looked at him then, and only nodded.

“I need your words, your grace”, he was not asking, he was demanding, he was at your service, and yet, you immediately felt like you had to give him something in return.

He got to look at you then.

Like all the women in your family, and even some men, your beauty was beyond what words could describe, you were there, emaciated from years of trauma, death and war, and yet, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Your beauty did not belong to this world, he thought, you were a goddess in human form, with those silvery strands and purple eyes

And he was the most imposing man you had seen in return, he felt like this… God, a god of war and justice, wisdom and prowess, like the colossus of Braavos, nothing could tumble him down, he had been here for hundreds of years, and he was going to continue there for hundreds more. it felt like with him by your side, nobody could hurt you, with him by your side, you were safe. Invincible

Nobody needed to tell you who he was, just by looking at him you would have known, even though you had never seen him before

“... And I need it in writing”, he said slowly and calmly, “do you trust me to seek justice in your name?”, did you? your brother befriended the man and after he came back, having promised your hand to him in marriage, he had say he was his best friend, and the most honorable men he had met, and that you were going to be happy and safe by his side

There was no one better than him

You went to the small desk in the corner of the room, parchment and quill in hand, you had no clue what you were doing, but you scribbled on the paper that you gave Cregan Stark the authority to act in your name, with long, pompous and unnecessary words of politics, those you knew well, your mother had make sure of it

“Cregan Stark”, you called, turning to him, your decree in hand, he stood still, raising his head and straightening his posture, “I command you to seek justice for my mother, the late Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen” you said, your voice sounds strained, just because you hadn't spoken in so long, “I command you to imprison the ones who conspired and usurped her, and to punish them in my name”, you said then, giving him the paper

“I will be the hand that brings justice, my queen”, he sentenced, reading your words, he nodded approvingly. And you could not hide your surprise

“They named… me?”, you asked

“We did”, he said, “The Tullys, the Arryns, the Starks, the Tarlys, Tyrells…”, you only nodded

“I will come after, to make the announcement of the trials and those who will be put to them”

“Should I go?”, you asked

“A queen should not concern herself with such matters of justice”, he said

“Very well”, he nodded, and just like that, he exited your chambers

With him on the helm, you would be safe

Queen

You were a Queen know

Rhaenys, the Queen that never was, and then your mother The Black Queen

They had failed

And now, here you stood

Were you going to fail too?

Cregan walked slowly, the people that came across him would move away from him, letting him passed uninterrupted, bowing their heads

It was a good sign

The castle that had looked like it was abandoned, was slowly returning to life, people from all the most important families were here, and the first thing he needed to do was to send even more ravens, to all corners of the realms.

There was a New Queen, and all the most important families and their banner men had to be here for her coronation

The staff, maids, servants, soldiers, they did not had armies to fight of gold to use, but they had access to places and that access could be bought by enemies still lurking in the shadows

He had to make sure everyone who was to inhabit the Red Keep was completely loyal to their new Queen. A queen who just turned into a woman, if barely, a broken young woman, who had seen the death of everyone in her family but her baby brother. He had more work than he thought. He came with the purpose of installing the princess on the throne, make her Queen, and then pursue those traitors and turncloaks with his army, lead them to the gates of the citadel itself

But he was starting to think that this was going to be more politics and ink that swords and blood

Cregan Stark needed to relegate, and for that, he needed trusted men, loyal men to the cause of the late Queen and the new one now

And this is how he was going to accomplish that

When he walked into the throne room

The small council, and their families where inside

It was to his knowledge that Baela Targaryen was also in attendance. The betrothed of the deceased Crown Prince Jacaerys. He basically know the girl, because of how much Jace would talk about her

As he made his way to the throne, he opened the decree and show it to everyone

“I have in my hand a royal decree from the Queen”, he said loudly, “In it, she declared me as her hand to seek justice for the late Queen Rhaenyra”

“Seek justice?”, of course Corlys Velaryon was the first to contradict him

“I will hold trials for the traitors and turncloaks”, he said, and everyone in the throne room began to either whisper nervously, gasp audibly, or said lowly words of disapproval.

His men entered the room, alongside the three of the seven remaining white cloaks he had send for, loyal to Queen Rhaenyra

“Ser Erryk Cargill”, he called, the man stood in front of him with his brothers, “Ser Adrian Redfort and Ser Loreth Lansdale”, the three of them bowed his heads, “do you recognize the true line of succession?”, he asked out loud

“Yes M’lord”, answered Erryk

“Do you recognize Queen Rhaenyra’s eldest daughter as Queen of the seven Kingdoms?”, he asked

“Yes my lord!”, they chanted at the same time, “we swore towards the Queen!”

“Great, do you recognize me, by this decree, hand of the Queen?”, he asked showing them your words, they look amongst themselves and nodded

“Yes my Lord”

“Very well, today, as my first act as hand, I will hold trials, to apprehend traitors who conspired against the true heir, resulting in a bloodied civil war and the death of thousands, do you stand by me?”, he asked

“YES MY LORD!”

“Then apprehend Lord Corlys Velaryon, Lord Tyland Lannister, Larys Strong…. for starters”, he muttered

The court was submerged in chaos

And he didn’t stop there

He arrested twenty men, including Alard Baratheon, who was new to court and also Gyles Belgrave, former king’s guard to the usurper

On charges of treachery, conspiracy against the rightful Queen, and other charges.

To every man he placed in chains, he held trails for.

Those on trial had the chance to defend themselves, justify their treachery, present witnesses and evidence of what they had done and why, and ultimately, offer their repentance.

It felt to Cregan to stand as judge, and sentence to death those who were found guilty

The first day was slow, mostly sentencing, and organizing the witnesses and defenses. The night fell over the Keep rather quickly, soon all servants lit up the torches, as Cregan dismissed them all

He wanted to see you

Rather, he needed to see you

“Ser Erryk, it is to my knowledge that you had been a part of the Queen’s Guard the longest”

“Yes my lord”

“You are the new Commander of the Queensguard, when all of this is over, you alongside the Queen will choose another four to complete the brotherhood”

“It will be my honor, Lord”, he said firmly

“Good”, he said shortly, “one of your brothers will be posted with the Queen at all times, another with the prince Aegon”, he continued

The guard posted at your rooms nodded at his sight, and announced him, entering in your chambers

He found you with your baby brother, having supper.

It was the first time he got to see the young boy in detail, he was small for someone his age, but his ghostly eyes had seen things no child nor adult should ever seen, and he could tell just by looking at them, the pain and sorrow he suffered

“My Lord Cregan, please join us”, you invited him

You and your little brother, all that was left of the greatest dynasty of Westeros

He accepted your offer, sitting across from you. The small boy didn’t meet his eye, he was just playing with his food in front of him, he noticed than when he spoke, he shook like a leaf in the wind

“I made twenty arrests”, he said firmly, “Including Corlys Velaryon, Tyland Lannister and Larys Strong…”, you nodded, “not sure yet, but many are already too guilty, like Larys, or a former while cloak of the usurper…”

“Any hightower?”, you asked. Prince Aegon rose from his seat then, and walk silently to a small door in the other side of the chamber, disappearing from sight

“Sorry about that”, you said, “he barely speaks to me, and I’m the only one who he talks with”

“He will heal, so will you”, he said, you nodded

“So what about the hIghtowers?”, you asked again

“Those who led armies… are dead… Otto Hightower, his sons, his brother and his oldest son as well…”, he continued, you took a sip of wine, trying to gain some courage

“What about Alicent?”, you asked, he looked at you

“The Dowager Queen is in lockdown, in the Tower of the Hand your grace”, he said gently. You took a long breath

“I want her dead”, you said brokenly

“You want your first command as Queen to be the death of the former one?”, Cregan asked severely

“She is the cause of everything that happened”, you said, finally looking at him, “she hated my mother, she made her life miserable while we lived here as children, she filled my uncles with poisonous hate for me and my brothers, she turned the entire court against us, she called us bastards and made everyone else say it too, she manipulated her children to usurp my mother’s throne, she was the cause, of everything, I want her dead”, you said, and he looked back at you with warning

“Many would argue, that she herself was manipulated by her father, besides, your mother forgave her”

“I won’t”, you said, “and because she was a cunt and a fool everything should be forgiven? Ignorance is not a crime, but perhaps it should be, why should she draw breath while my entire family doesn’t?”

“I am your hand, your Grace, you wanted it so, so as your hand, my job, is to advice you”, he said gently, “and my advice is to imprison her, yes, but not execute her”, you looked at him with eyes filled with tears and he looked back at you, worried, “The Hightowers are decimated, yes, but they still remain a powerful family… one of the most powerful”

“That could be easily fixed”, you retorted, he frowned

“What do you mean?”, he asked softly, you kept quiet

“You said you wanted to bring justice to the realm, I want the HIghtowers dead, all of them”, you sentenced, “Lannisters, Velaryons… Baratheon… they all riled to Aegon’s side because of them”

Cregan looked at you, and you broke down crying in front of him

You tried to wipe your tears quickly, you held so strongly, but to no avail, you were crying in front of Cregan Stark

“I’m sorry”, you cried, wiping the tears that just wouldn’t stop falling

“I understand your anger, your rage”, he said softly

“My entire family is dead!”, you cried, broken, weeping, you had been holding onto your emotions for so long that now, that you felt safe, the fake wall you had sustained for all these tumultuous months as a hostage in the Keep finally broke down. You cried for long minutes, taking it all out of your chest, freeing yourself, even if just a little, of the sorrow of loss.

When you finally calmed down, reduced to only sniffles, Cregan dared to speak again

“My own uncle betrayed me and took my lands from me”, he confessed, you looked at him, barely able to see him

“What?”

‘I was very young when my father died, he was supposed to act as Lord regent, but he usurped me as Lord of Winterfell”, he told you, “my cousins supported him”

“What did you do?”, you asked, more calm

“I gathered the great houses of the North everyone supported me, I stormed my home, took him prisoner, him and my cousins”, he looked at you softly, gently, “I decreed them traitors, and took their heads with the millennial sword of my house”

“You did?”, you asked

“He who passes the sentence must swing the sword, my queen”, he said gently, “but that applies only to Lords I’m afraid”, you smiled

“I don’t want them dead”, you continued, “I mean, I do, but, I understand why I shouldn't’...”, he smiled softly

“Good”, he said

“But I want them to think that I do, I want them to beg, I want them to empty their coffers to please me, to reinstate the treasury”

“That we can do”, he said firmly, “we will use them as examples, of what happens when you mess with the dragon”, you nodded, “I will call them to court”

Cregan wondered what you meant by “that can be easily arranged”, he also thought about his army, it was great, yes, but he wasn’t sure it was enough to fight the might of the hIghtowers, it had to be, he did plan on marching to Old Town

“Tomorrow you will tell me, how much time passed between now, and when she went to sleep alright?”, he asked your Queenguard on the door

His second in command Jon Dustin was waiting for him

“Tomorrow before the trials but after the young Queen is tended to, you will gather all the servants and maids, everyone who works in this castle, and you will bring them to me”

“Very well my lord”, he nodded

You were worse than he thought, you were angry, understandably so, but he needed to find a middle ground, punishments hard enough to please your rage, but not that extreme that the Kingdoms start to rebel themselves against their New Queen

The next day, the second day at court, Lady Baela presented herself in front of the Wolf of Winterfell, to plead for her grandfather

“Your grandfather is being charged of Regicide, he is the main suspect of poisoning the Usurper”, he said firmly, “Even though we repudiate his reign, the murder of a monarch cannot stand unpunished”

“He did it to prevent the death of a thousand more my Lord! he did it to protect the Queen, the prince, and me”, she fought

Corlys Velaryon was pardoned after that day, thanks to Baela, and then you, who approved of such forgiveness. Even though you did not wish to see your named grandfather and cousin

Tyland Lannister came then, and the Lion knelt before the wolf. Rhaenyra had him severely tortured, and some words scape him, but he had returned the treasury in his entirety, and pleaded for a space in the small council

He had been good to you and your brother, and Aegon made you forgive him, and you did

In the fourth day of the trial, Alard Baratheon was forgiven too, he belonged to a lesser branch of his house, now the main thanks to the death of Lord Borros, he had no part in the Dance, and as such, he bend the knee to the New Queen’s rule

The other eighteen men were not so lucky, they were all found guilty of treason, on the fifth, sixth and seventh and final, including and especially Larys Strong, the maester, and others.

And in all those days, you were receiving updates by Cregan himself, and you were… meditating

People were being trialed and sentenced to death, they were going to pay for what they had done, this was your comfort, justice, simple and pure justice, for your mother, for your family.

You had promised yourself that this was going to be enough

If you kept punishing these lords, the people was going to reject you as their Queen

And you couldn’t fail

Never

You had seen what happens when you failed

So the sentence of these Lords, and then the Hightowers, and then, you had to calm yourself.

Wanting it or not, the crown had fallen on your head, against all odds, for better or worse.

But here is the catch, the crown was now attached to your head, loose one is loose both

And you owed it to your mother, Daemon, your father, whoever it is, to Jace, Luke, Rhaenys… you owed it to your family to keep your crown over your head, and your head over your shoulders.

So as the days turned long, you were preparing yourself too

You only appeared in court the seventh and last day of the trial

You wore black, you were still in mourning, it was a fearsome dress, you too it from your mother’s coffers, and a magnificent crimson red cape dances behind you as your walked

Your hair was braided with magnificent braids, instead of the crown

You entered the throne room, for the first time as Queen, everyone there bowed to you, everyone except those on trial

Cregan wanted you to take the oaths of House Lannister and Baratheon.

And both lords, Tyland and Alard bowed to you, kneeled in front of you, sincerely, atoning

You gave him the pardon yourself

The eighth and last day, you demanded those found guilty to be brought to the cliffs on the outside of King’s Landing

Ser Erryk was holding Blackfyre, right by your left side, and Cregan with his sword Ice, was standing in your right, soldiers, all of them wearing your colors, black and red, brought forth the eighteen men who had been sentenced to death

You could see in the small crowd those who had been pardoned as well, along all the great Lords and Ladies of your households who had sailed to the Capital from Dragonstone in the week after Cregan summoned them

“Pass me the sword Ser Erryk”, you commanded, he nodded, and passed you the sword of your family, it was heavy, you couldn’t raise it above your head to strike even if you wanted to

“My Queen, I can…” Cregan murmured

“He who passes the sentence should swing the sword”, you said firmly, looking at him, the exchange was only heard by you three, not loud enough for the others.

It was a windy day, and you could barely hear the voice above the whistling

“My Queen, I did not mean…”, with one look, he kept quiet, you grabbed the sword of the Conqueror in your hand. You turned to the men in front of you, Cregan moved away, just like Erryk to stand by the side.

“You had all be found guilty of treason against the legitimate heir of the seven Kingdoms, you conspired against her ascent and work to usurp her”, you said loudly

“Aegon was the true heir!”, screamed Gyles Belgrave, “I'd rather die than serve a bastard! daughter of a whore! you are no true Targaryen!”, those screams and accusations didn’t even bothered you, not anymore

“Oh I am not a true Targaryen?”, you asked

The whistle of the wind was dimmed by a way more stronger, menacing sound

You saw, with pleasure, everybody shake in their places when they heard your dragon roar

“All the dragons were dead!”, cried that small man you didn’t even want to learn the name of. Even Cregan was surprised

Vhaelar growled in the air, you heard the flap of her wings, and she landed heavily by your side. She roared loudly, menacingly. You felt her anger, or perhaps, what you were feeling was the mirror of your own emotions.

You caressed the side of her face softly, Vhaelar purred

You saw how the former King’s guard peed his pants, shaking uncontrollably. Larys Strong, you alleged uncle, was only looking at you and smiling sickenly,

“I Queen (y/n) Targaryen, Queen of the Rhoynar the Andals and the first men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the realm, sentence you all to die by dragon fire”, you sentenced, grabbing the pommel of Blackfyre tightly, you were nervous, but this was nothing you haven't seen before

This was it, this single act had to be the outlet of your rage.

Soon when you look at those men kneeled in front of you, they all took the faces of everyone you hated, Alicent, Aegon, Criston Cole, they were all there, dressed in green, looking at you in fear and reverence, kneeling on the ground

“Dracarys”, you said firmly

You felt the joy of Vhaelar who set them on fire, you felt your skin getting warm by the heat of the flames

You saw the men turn to inhumane forms and then to dust

You saw it like that day in Dragonstone, and yet… now you felt nothing.

Only relief

taglist!

@lyannesworld @tremendouswolfsaladranch @unlesshouse @mimsie95 @ostricx @amelia262006 @marihoneywk @ahristata @happinessinthebeing @dd122004dd @aestmilky

#misguidedhour #cregan x reader #hotd cregan #cregan #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #hbo house of the dragon #house targaryen #cregan x you #cregan x y/n

609 notes · View notes

myths-tournaments · 7 months

Text

Awful Characters Round 1 Part 3 (2/8)

Propaganda under the cut!

XUE YANG

he's evil and kills like hundreds, maybe thousands of people, for like not super good reasons (like killing the person who wronged you as a child? understandable in the setting of the story. killing every single person associated with that person? perhaps a bit overkill baby). tricks a character he's obsessed with into murdering a lot of innocent people including that guy's best friend. that all being said, I love him to death like that's my special little babygirl yeah he commits atrocities but have you considered that maybe he just needs someone to love him? or even that he looked cute while committing the atrocities? but nor fr I was kinda surprised when I got to the fandom stuff and realized that there were people who really hated Xue Yang because I just felt sorry for him and wanted to pat his head or something.

ARCHBISHOP RHEA

She is such an interesting character. Her whole thing is dealing with the consequences of having to choose between telling the truth vs protecting the little family she had left with both options having serious issues no matter what. Too many terminally online fire emblem fans (despite saying they want more of them) can’t handle an actually morally gray character. Because she has a catholic aesthetic and made non-optimal choices that she couldn’t have predicted the consequences of, idiots have been projecting their own traumas and biases onto her. The creators expected this to, since they said in an interview that they deliberately made her into a red herring to hide the actual villains.

Before the game even came out there were already people headcanoning that Rhea was transphobic/homophobic/a zealot. They will twist even the most innocent actions of hers to be evil. In game, you find out that Rhea saved a child named Cyril from slavery and is letting him live at the monastery. The terminally online saw 1 line of dialogue where Cyril talks about feeling like he had to work hard to earn a place to live due to his tragic past and were like “he’s FORCED to work or he’ll be DEPORTED!!!”. Another incident is her getting called evil because she didn’t give the racist cultists who tried to kill her and innocent students a fair trial before executing them. Like, girl what the hell are you talking about? This is a medieval fantasy, not a single other character in this game grants or receives a trial. The only reason they single Rhea out is bias.

One time on Twitter, an artist drew and posted some art of Rhea and the haters on there were so weird about Rhea that they bullied the artist into taking it down because drawing positive art of Rhea was “harmful”. Deranged behavior.

#awful characters tournament #tournament poll #awful characters round 1 #the untamed #mdzs #xue yang #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem #archbishop rhea

19 notes · View notes

kvetchinglyneurotic · 4 months

Note

⭐star⭐ hiiiiiii. I just read the latest chapter (ch 2) of Flightless Birds and my soul has still not reattached. I would love to know your director’s cut thoughts on either:

1) the scene of Jamie going back to get his car and seeing the blood

2) Keeley’s overall struggles with seeing how Roy and Jamie have grown closer without her

If neither of those are striking the iron for you, anything from The Hedgehog’s Dilemma regarding Jamie’s dad’s visit would also be most excellent!

I hope this missive finds you well <3

The scene of Jamie going back to get his car and seeing the blood

This scene just sort of... came upon me as I was writing as a two birds/one stone type of situation. Bird #1 was that I remembered partway through the chapter that Jamie hadn't retrieved his car yet. Bird #2 was that Jamie spends most of the chapter working up to his big breakdown at the end, and that Roy and Keeley aren't fully aware of how badly he's doing — which meant that I needed a) something to trigger the panic attack, and b) for it to happen somewhere neither of them would know that it had happened. And then when I got this ask I realized that I had completely accidentally built in a recurring motif of like. cars as a representation of Jamie's relationship with his dad and how it's inextricably tied up not just with his career as a player but with the wealth that comes with it; how Jamie's constantly trying to buy James' affection or at least stave off his violence with gifts, his entitlement over Jamie's wealth and belongings and indignation when Jamie has something nicer than what James does, how escaping his father means leaving behind things that he loves — Man City and Georgie when he's a teenager and his car, but also that he can get them back, even if it involves confronting some trauma first.

Keeley's overall struggle with seeing how Roy and Jamie have grown closer without her

This was one of the main parts of the fic that I thought about during the planning phase. Keeley and Roy's relationship progresses a little slower in THD than it does in canon just because Roy's not relying on her quite as much for like. all his non-work and non-family social interaction and later is busy taking care of Jamie in the lead-up to his father's visit. At that stage, she's pretty content with how things are going: she has fun hanging out with them separately and together, she doesn't have to listen to them complain about each other quite as much (they still do, but now it's affectionate so it's much less annoying), and Jamie has someone looking out for him in a way she doesn't really feel equipped to do.

And then their fledgling little QPR experiences trial by fire via moving in together at a point where she's both the only one who's able-bodied and not freshly traumatized and working full time, and on top of that already overwhelming situation, being around each other all the time makes it clear that there are ways that Jamie and Roy are close to each other that they aren't with her. I think with Jamie's recovery especially, she's trying really hard not to feel hurt by the fact that Roy is the one he's opened up to about his dad and that he's the one he turns to when he's upset because she does understand, rationally, that it's not a case of Jamie trusting Roy over her but of Roy being the one to discover the abuse and establishing himself as like. The Person Who Looks After Jamie, and also that when Jamie's really upset, he usually wants to be held for a much longer time than she tends to prefer for her cuddle sessions and also isn't especially compatible with her work schedule.

But at the same time, it does make her feel guilty and hurt that she not only can't seem to give him that kind of support while Roy's recovering but that Roy doesn't seem to trust her to do it properly (this, of course, has much more to do with his own hangups that it does with not trusting Keeley, but she doesn't know that), and so there's a part of her that worries she won't have a place in the relationship once they're both doing better, but is also kind of resentful of the fact that she's ended up in this role as the caretaker and the one that has everything together because she likes doing things for her friends and cheering them up when they're having a hard time but she's never been the biggest fan of looking after people, per se. Anyway the solution is communication and they will get there eventually.

James' visit from THD

James' visit in chapters 5 and 6 was the hardest part of the fic to write, not because of the character voice but because he's just such a relentlessly unpleasant to write. From his perspective, the visit is about reasserting control: he deliberately keeps Jamie guessing about their plans, inserts himself into any part of Jamie's life where he can tell Jamie doesn't want him just to show that he can — he doesn't necessarily care about what Richmond training looks like or where he lives, but he wants to show Jamie that he doesn't have anything that isn't also James'. But at the same time, I did want him to feel like a fully-fledged person operating according to his own complex and deeply dysfunctional internal logic. He's petty and malicious and violent but that's probably not how he'd think of himself, you know?

#asks #ask games #fic: the hedgehog's dilemma #fic: flightless birds #series: symbiosis #tw abuse #this turned out so long i'm sorry (or you're welcome)#kvetch oc

8 notes · View notes

reallifewylan · 1 year

Text

Breaking down Six of Crows: Matthias Helvar, sexism, genocide, and ideology

Matthias might just be the most misinterpreted crow, and I'm here to talk about this.

**SPOILER ALERT **

TW: death of parents & siblings, harmful ideologies, religion gone wrong, genocide

The Drüskelle

Matthias Helvar is a Drüskelle. Drüskelle are known to be more than critical of the Grisha's abilities, they believe that Grisha represent a kind of human mutation, that they shouldn't exist and even rank them as something far inferior to humans and even animals. They think of Grisha as something so dishonorable that they aren't even worthy of a fight. Important to mention here is that the Drüskelle are people whose morality is based on religious structures. The Drüskelle train their soldiers under the protection of the god Djel, who is said to approve of their doings. They train hunting down Grisha and claim to give them a fair trial, but as both Matthias and the readers realize in the course of Six of Crows, this is rarely the occasion: The Drüskelle burn the Grisha on pyres. There's nothing fair about that. Also, the parallels to problems that are indeed very real and rooted in our own world get even more clear, for don't we live in a world where people were burned on pyres by religious people?

Matthias, a "brave, miserable boy, fed on hate"

So I suppose we can all agree: Drüskelle = bad. Does that equal Matthias = bad? Let's see.

We get to know Matthias as a Fjerdan, a Drüskelle, trained by and for Drüskelle to further their cause. At the beginning of his story, we get to know him as one of the front-runners of the Drüskelle, one of their best soldiers. At the end of Crooked Kingdom however, we see a completely different picture of the young man who might be the one who went through the most significant character development. He goes from being an ideologically influenced misogynist to a man who wants to destroy this very ideology and eventually falls vicitim to it himself. For people forget that Matthias might be a Drüskelle, but he hasn't always been.

Matthias grew up with his family, his mother, father and little sister. One day, however, when Grisha burned down Matthias' home village to the ground and only Matthias remained, he joined the Drüskelle. Let this sink in: A young boy didn't just witness his home burning down, but also the brutal murder of his own family. There is – there has to be – a deep-seated trauma of the loss of father, mother, and sister as well as the fire itself. Matthias is an orphan, all possible caregivers or confidants are dead, he lost them at an extremely young age. Instead, a man named Brum takes their place. A man who takes Matthias in with the Drüskelle and exploits his young naivety and his hurt, his mourning, and anger at Grisha, who murdered his family. Matthias is particularly vulnerable to the disgraceful ideology of the Drüskelle, which Brum shamelessly exploits, especially due to his extremely young age and the enormous trauma of the loss of his family.

In the claws of ideology

Matthias' tragic backstory can't and won't be the excuse for his actions, for he has done great harm, there is no question. But the point of this post is not to paint a picture of a saint, nor is the point of Matthias' character (development) to excuse that very behavior. I strongly believe that the point of Matthias is an even bigger ambition: Matthias is an example for how social ideologies work and that there is no need for an active decision to be or become discriminatory. Without being aware of this, Matthias has dedicated his entire life's work to a cause whose goals lie in genocide.

Even after he started questioning the ideology that raised him – mainly influenced by his complicated relationship with Nina Zenik - and even after turning against Brum, his mentor and the person who took him in with the Drüskelle, the thought patterns that were anchored in his brain for a long time don't disappear all of a sudden:

"They're the enemy, said a voice in his head, and he wasn't sure if it was Commander Brum's or his own."

It takes work and empathy and understanding to slowly get rid of these influences that were part of Matthias for the majority of his life. Sometimes these thought arise, but Mattias becomes self-critical and he learns to understand the life of Grisha and the limitations and fear under which they live. As the Crows help Nina's Grisha friends safely leave Ketterdam without getting caught by Drüskelle, Matthias is held up a mirror:

“It seemed an extreme precaution in what was supposed to be a neutral city, but perhaps the Ravkans had been forced to take extreme measures to protect their citizens. 'Because of people like me.' Matthias had been a hunter, a killer, and proud to do his job well.”

Matthias feels shame, but while he must and should be held accountable for his past actions, the reason for this lies much deeper than with this eighteen-year-old young man: it lies in societal ideology and long-term nurturing of institutional hatred against a specific group of people.

The books also criticize those justifications for discrimination that have their roots in religion, as well as the charismatic leaders of such ideologies, which exploit the naivety of (young) people instead of promoting independent and critical thinking:

“[Brum had] taken a brave, miserable boy and fed him on hate. He'd silenced Matthias' conscience with prejudice and the promise of a divine calling that was probably nothing more than the wind moving through the branches of an ancient tree.”

However, the entire belief system is not condemned or rejected, but a change of perspective is offered: instead of regarding the Grisha as unwanted, as something that should not exist in Djel's eyes, Matthias begins to see these magical people as a gift from a divine power. In addition, he learns that the motivation of Brum, his leader, lies less in a selfless approach to protecting his people and more in a thirst for power and jealousy of the Grisha's supernatural powers.

The odd one out: Matthias' story as counterweight to the crows

Why all of this, though? Why am I so insistent on understanding Matthias' story and interpreting his character in regard to societal structures? It is because Six of Crows offers great representation of those exact structures. Leigh Bardugo has been praised a lot for the diversity in her novels and even though both me and her agree that her books cannot be the pinnacle of diverse YA literature, it is indeed a start.

What makes Matthias important, both as a standalone character but also in regard to his colleagues, is the following:

In contrast to all the other crows, Matthias initially takes on the role of the oppressor instead of being oppressed himself. With this character and his role – especially in a group of teenagers who are all affected in some way by social discrimination – Leigh Bardugo creates a perspective that delves deeper into the underlying causes of discrimination. Bardugo doesn't just show diversity and representation in her books, she is offering an actual explanation for it. Using the character of Matthias, she is explaining how ideologies get formed and especially – and this is the important part – that those who fall for it can indeed change. It is also worth mentioning here that Matthias is the only one of the six main characters to find himself in a position of absolute privilege: he is a white, able-bodied male who can be assumed to be both straight and cisgender. As the only character whose tragic story serves to illustrate discrimination and ideologies, he is in no way influenced by social oppression himself. And that makes him a valuable character, for he doesn't represent marginalized groups, but the very reason for why there are groups that are marginalized.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk, this has been on my mind ever since I started writing my thesis about exactly this.

#soc #six of crows #crooked kingdom #matthias helvar #leigh bardugo #shadow and bone #representation #social issues #political ideologies #religious ideologies #grishaverse

30 notes · View notes

buttercup--bee · 2 years

Text

Heavy Heart to Carry

Summary: Pretending everything is fine is much harder than it seems.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Female!Reader

Warnings: Heavy Depictions of Trauma; Descriptions of Abuse; First Time Meetings; Dialogue Heavy; Minors DNI;

Main Masterlist ~ Series Masterlist ~ Ao3 ~ Playlist ~ Next

I do not give permission for any of my works or their included components to be copied, translated, and/or reposted, even with credit.

There's a monster in your bed.

A creature devoid of compassion. It itches for comprehension of the unknown - what renders firing synapses to a halt. To re-awaken century old fears in the hopes of a collective remedy. That somehow, deep inside a human’s brain, the monster can scoop out what makes humanity primal in everything but genuine empathy.

That instinct, basic as it is natural to be cruel, a liar, impassive in all things but self interest. The beast at your side, it swallows hope whole, and has become what it hates most. Or perhaps it’d always been like this? Devoted to a system it could not prove existed. Willing to cross lines meant for the sane all for a precious project.

Yes, it’s a monster that holds you tight, curling his head at your shoulder. The same beast to have knelt on one knee, who had promised safety and deceived you into believing his devotion was for you alone.

It’d been a beautiful mirage - elegant and propitious and above all else, arduous. He’d let you believe in him, in all he had to offer and more.

But time has passed, and now you lay in your grave nestled in silk. He tightens his hold subconsciously, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your stomach and just above your rib cage. You’d push him away if you had the strength to. Would’ve wrenched yourself free and fled from this ornate cage of a house.

Experimentation went on far longer than promised, however, and you ache in every possible sense of the word. Dreary, absent in mind and body; feeling as if you were drifting above your own body. Watching from afar as Jon encases you, buries you beneath heavy bones and sinew.

An auspicious encounter that you are forced under day and night. He’s been getting soft, lucid amidst his own speculations and tests. Tears of frustration gather at the corner of your eyes - if you weren’t numb, if you could lift even a finger, you’d steal away into the night.

Why were you condemned to this? What had you done in life that deserved such torment? It's not as if you were a bad person. You attended city council, donated to charity when possible, helped where needed - and you are given a life of cruelty in exchange.

A great deal of you believes it's your fault. That you’ve done this to yourself. That you gave into devotion and allowed it to blind you from avid truths.

And God, you’re tired. Exhausted of all your energy, breathing itself has become a strenuous effort. Vision blurring, warm tears lick at your cheeks, chapped lips cracking as you attempt to hold in the sobs.

He claims to love you. Swears up and down his experiments are for your benefit. To extract your past, to come to terms with it all, to live a life without terror; it is a part of letting go, accepting horror and its place within your mind. That his merciless trials are a kindness, a definitive proclamation of adoration.

This wasn’t love.

You can’t love a man in the dark, nor can he express the same after what he’s done. What he’ll continue to do again and again and again. When it comes down to it, despite all the memories that you hold dear to your heart, his smile, laugh, the rough buzz of his throat when he’d embrace you, how he once looked to you as if you were the only person in the world - that man died.

Survival isn’t enough anymore. Nor are your hopes that Jon might return to you.

Eventually, you would have to think of something. A time when you weren’t incapable of simple motor skills. Bidding on your patience for the long haul seemed to be the only decision worth planning.

Sucking in a deep breath, you hiss at the way it scratches your throat.

Jon twitches, clinging to you further; a cage, a trap designed to deceive. You decide then that you can do this - that you have to. You’ve already spent two years doing so for him, you could manage twice as much for yourself.

There is no such thing as choice in this matter. Only survival.

—-

To say Gordon is flabbergasted is an understatement.

You meet his gaze easily, doing your best to act nonchalant about your return to work despite having been in the hospital only yesterday.

There’d been a hasty sort of desperation when you’d been discharged. Your doctor suggested you remain on bed rest for another week, but you’d drown in your thoughts. Define miserable, and it still wouldn’t capture what you’d feel if left alone.

Your only choice had been a simple one. Return to work and ignore all the guilt that had accumulated since witnessing the attack on Gothams public library, the way the dark knight had scowled at you; suspicion, anger, confusion, and what it meant.

What now resides in Gotham.

For good reason, of course, as it wouldn’t have been easy to be left to your own devices, let alone your mind.

Work would captivate you enough to ensure you were properly taken care of. Empty mind means empty concern. Focusing on your job would be far more productive anyways; for the city and yourself.

That didn’t mean everyone would understand, hence Gordon. His jaw slung open and eyes wide as saucers.

“Ives, what the hell are you doing here?” said detective grates, confused and unashamed of his obvious chagrin.

“I wasn’t feeling that bad, I -“

Gordon shakes his head, “No, don’t give me an excuse. What you went through…” his brows furrow, frown encapsulating his features. “It was a lot, you should be resting.”

You give a noncommittal shrug, “It was my decision to come back - I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t feel okay.”

He glared, and while it is tempered and soft, there is disappointment held there as well. You hold back the urge to roll your eyes, because of course a father of an eleven year old would look at you as such.

A moment passes, and he sighs. “Fine, fine.” Reluctance etches itself deep inside his timbre, as it does his faltered frame.

Chancing a glance upwards, you capture his frown, the deep intonation of his doubt. It’s carved in the grooves of his features, the rigid lines of posture, and it fills the atmosphere with dread.

A piece of you, knowing and clear, understands his worry. He is merely a human being concerned for another. That doesn’t ease the growing pit in your stomach, nor the lack of sympathy. Something you’ve conjured once escaping your prison.

It was needed on the run, to be indifferent was to survive. No donating to the poor, asking for help, gracing those you didn’t know with a proffered hand. The allure of it didn’t outweigh the tragedy if caught. Even now, amidst your identity of a thousand lies, you cannot help but view the comely officer as a trial.

You want to help, be of service, to be a friend and confidant of his. But that trait faded the longer you were in hiding. Any sort of commitment beyond work was destined for failure. Even if you got along, an acquaintance was all you could ever be.

Gordon meant well. He always did, and you knew one day he would reach further into Gotham and clean what was left spoiled. Hell, you’d vote for him as commissioner if the damned mayor would focus a little more on the GCPD.

Given the circumstance however, there is a halt in any elections, no matter how needed they are. The precinct is without a leader, a finger to point in the right direction, someone who can diminish the corrupt. But that doesn’t matter now, not with whom you assume to be wreaking havoc.

And by God do you hope it isn’t him. That you are merely in the midst of a coincidence and everything will end for the better.

Daunted, you hastily shut your laptop and crane your head until it hits the back of your chair. Gordon eyes your movement with interest, head tilted in an all too telling sign of worry. Any exclamations you’d given might have just been thrown out the proverbial window, and you both know it.

Carefully, he takes a step towards you, another, as if approaching a wounded rabbit. It isn’t too far from the truth, as much as you hate to admit it. There are tears in your façade, the sort that ripple and carve a vicious path. How long does it take to hide those? To claim ignorance towards your own distress?

When he’s at your desk, he folds his arms, shrinking in size. You are aware of its objective. To bring you comfort, peace, even if the situation is uncomfortable.

“Why are you here?” he asks again. There is no anger there, nor frustration. Only doubt, retaliation that coats itself in definitive dismay.

I don’t want to be alone, you think, if I’m alone I won’t breathe, I won’t move - I don’t want that - I don’t want the fear.

You can't cave, to fall beneath his avid gaze. There is so much concern embedded in his dark eyes. The kind that should be reserved for family. It's warm and caring and you’ve missed that - yearned for any comfort that could be spared for you. A price you’ve paid for years and you’ve become soft and trusting. Something you can’t afford.

There’s a resolve that consumes you then, it grips at your stomach like a vice.

You can’t share anything, you won’t. It’s too dangerous. You’ve only known him for a short time, and you’ve let him get far too close to you. His actions prove as much. He has a wife, a little girl, and if Jon really is here - if he knows you’ve made more than acquaintances - you can’t imagine the outcome.

He’s always been possessive of his experiments.

Perhaps that’s what has you standing, abrupt and agitated. Gordon doesn’t move, he stands his ground despite your glare.

“I’ve told you I’m fine,” gathering some manila folders into your arms, you nod his way, “if you don’t mind, I have to fax these to the mayor’s office.”

He can’t get a word in, for you're already out the door.

—-

Dusk is your least favorite time of day. A shift that consumes Gotham in despair.

As if the city knows that when the moon rises before the satellite itself is humming, a barely visible glow shining through the storm and smog, that they become more than shadows. More than an addict, an orphan left to the streets, survivors left to fend for themselves.

These people transform into monsters - and you can’t blame them. They struggle day in and day out. Most of their crimes are petty, desperation clawing through a distorted lens.

Of course, not all of them are cruel. Many hide as well, keep to themselves, as others cling to their bloodied armor of important names and titles.

Once upon a time, it was Falcone that ruled Gotham. Now it’s Oswald Cobblepot (an eccentric name to say the least), an obviously not dead Maroni, and there are whispers of a man that goes by Black Mask (another crazy name).

Innocent citizens either hide from those who have joined mobs and gangs alike, or integrate themselves for the promised security it offers.

Sometimes, even then, you can’t claim any fault on their parts. Despair leads to extremities.

If those at the top of the food chain actually bothered to give a damn, if they helped, Gotham could become a new city. A metropolis worth investing in.

It physically pains you to pend on all that could be renewed if those assholes got themselves together and cared.

It's apparent when displayed on a screen like yours. False smiles and provocative promises everyone knows won’t be kept. And while you might be working, you can multitask - despite being wrist deep in some poor man’s torso - you manage.

Mostly to look out for any signs of who you hope isn’t Jon. A week has passed and nothing has come up. Two parts grateful and one part fraught, you itch for more information. Not that you wish for more blood to be spilled.

A piece of you wants him to simply show his face, even if that means he’s come to you. It's no coincidence that you’d been attacked in your own place of work - it was targeted. But it's possible that the assault on your person had been premeditated as a warning to the GCPD in general. You clutch to the hope that this monster is someone who might have read Jon’s work. One of those copy-cats you hear about every once in a while - who morph what was said into a far worse conclusion - perhaps even perfected the formula Jon couldn’t complete.

It’s unlikely, obvious and terrifying all at once. Your gut sinks, curdling as if there were a knife lacerating your insides; it does so until you're on the verge of abandoning your work in favor of breathing.

You start when the door to your office bursts open, fingers flexing in an awful pinch against what you assume is the man's vertebrae. Wincing, you turn towards whomever decided knocking didn’t exist.

Gordon frowns, regret creasing at his brow. “Sorry,” he moves aside at the entrance, allowing another to enter - you freeze, throat suddenly dry. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His apology goes in one ear and out the other, your attention focused solely on who has entered.

Bruce Wayne.

Only living heir to Gotham’s greatest dynasty, stands beside GCPD’s best detective. He smirks, and while practiced, it is still egomaniac. The sort of curl that grapples your person and dives deeper into the abyss without question.

What you’ve seen of him on television is varied. Before the flood, the ‘enigmatic’ Bruce Wayne had been a recluse. An heir full of potential that kept to himself. Only after the tragedy the Riddler befell Gotham did he slip from the shadows and expose himself as someone worth keeping an eye on. Someone that may actually have the people's interest at heart.

When you think of the man, you imagine a ghost of a child - unkempt hair, dark bruises beneath blank eyes, a frown indentured to its master - that is not who stands before you. Frankly, it isn’t what has been displayed for a little while.

Prince of Gotham. Most eligible bachelor this side of America. His smirks says it all, and yet it is devoid of any interest. Merely curious, you think, bright iris’s scanning your work space with interest.

He’s clean shaven, hair combed and gelled, and his suit fits him like a glove. Custom tailored no doubt. Hell, even his cologne wafts in with the demand to be seen.

You don’t even realize he’s come to stand before you, not until his large palm is held out in custom pleasantries.

A moment passes; you twitch, then frantically cover the body beside you and pull your gloves clean off, slathering your hands in soap - and for fucks sake, why is his hand still out?

You mutter apologies upon grievances, but the man merely taunts you with his smirk. One that has you rushing furthermore in desperation.

Once you’re finished, you carefully take his hand in yours in a gentle shake. His is one of calluses and dry skin. To think someone as magnetic and powerful as him doesn’t even have a simple skin care routine almost makes you scoff, or laugh, you can’t tell.

Bruce speaks before you do, deftly sweeping his hand back inside his trousers pocket.

“Detective Gordon says you're Gotham’s finest,” a curl pulls at the edge of his mouth, eyes twinkling brightly amidst the fluorescent lights, “at least when it comes to the dead.”

Wearily, you glance towards Gordon, who gives a shrug. One that refuses to take fault.

“That’s very kind of him.” You hum.

Gordon sets a folder down then. It’s pristine and black, a W embroidered in gold sits centerfold, a spotlight amidst the papers on your desk despite its shade.

Said detective twists it upright for your convenience, and says, “Mr. Wayne would like to take a look at our facility and…help.” His tone is unsure but hopeful.

Help? Since when do the rich help?

Though, you suppose this one has been putting effort into rebuilding Gotham, as well as opening positions within his firm to those on the streets or in dire need of help. Journalists rave over it, practically drooling over the man's newly open persona.

It’s pretty hard to miss when it's plastered all over the city via magazines, newspapers, and jumbo screens. He’s doing so much, so often, it's hard to think of him as anything but genuine in his efforts.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you shuffle towards your desk and lean against its edge. You open the folder and scan its contents.

You skim over most of it, an intense need to finish quickly nipping at your heels. Were you supposed to sign it? The more pages you flipped through, the less space there was. No designated X, no blank space, only ink declaring offer after offer fills the document.

Flickering your gaze upwards, you find Bruce is still staring. It isn’t nearly as intense as before, however it never wavers, and that's enough to have you avert your attention back to Gordon.

“What am I -”

Gordon’s cell interrupts you, its high pitched ring smothering your voice. Even Mr. Wayne’s expression morphs into a grimace. Hastily, he answers, an apology gracing his ever grim features.

He agrees to whatever is being said on the other end, hangs up, and gives you a look that reeks of pity. Your stomach sinks.

“I’m wanted at city hall,” he grouses something under his breath, rubs at his jaw, and adds “are you alright with finishing this up?” he waves vaguely between you and the man who’d found his way to your mess of a filing cabinet.

Observing where the stray billionaire had wandered, you turn to Gordon and nod, “Sure, go on ahead.”

When it's only the two of you left, a viable ache chisels at your stomach, hollow yet swollen. Nerve wracking energy pulses at your flesh, and you refuse to look at the only other body - living body, to be precise - in the room.

With a sigh, you peer back down at the folder. Wayne Enterprises is laminated in a small, italicized font just below the lone W.

Perhaps you should go through it again, to ensure you didn’t miss anything of importance. Or you could go over some files, wait for him to ask questions - if he speaks at all. His silence is uneasy, though you have to assume it's only you who feels like this. Most days perturb you, and they have always lacked a notorious billionaire until now.

It couldn’t be him. It’s just you, only you.

“Your cabinet is a mess.”

The occupants' baritone shocks you from your stupor, your eyes flickering towards Mr. Wayne. You find that some have been pulled open, his discretion nonexistent.

You have to bite your tongue to keep from berating him. Who looks through official files as if it were a library?

“Those aren’t for the public eye, Mr. Wayne.”

He glances at the open drawers, shrugs, and says, “Bruce.”

“What?”

“Just call me Bruce,” he stuffs the folders back inside and closes the cabinets, though his attention remains upon your person through his peripheral, “Mr. Wayne is far too formal for my tastes.”

Promptly, and without consideration, Bruce has returned to your desk. He positions himself at the other end of your desk, and yet he manages to make it feel as if he were in your personal space. Breathing down your neck, nagging and yanking at your never ending displeasure.

You have to remind yourself he’s an appropriate distance away, and make an attempt at a complimentary smile.

He doesn’t give one in return, narrowing his gaze with little effort, as if wishing for your smile to fade. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t last long.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy I’m here.”

You open your mouth to deny his claims, surprise coursing through your mind.

He holds a hand up, “It’s fine,” rather than sounding annoyed or pompous, he appears genuine when he concludes, “you were in the middle of your job, and I interrupted. I apologize.”

Unknowing of how to respond, you merely nod. What do you do now? Are you supposed to show him around? All there is to show are corpses, the tools you use, and a cabinet he already rifled through.

Which is highly illegal. Yet he must not have to worry about that. He could simply just pay his way out of the legal system. The real question is if he would? Is he the sort of man to ignore the law so easily, or does he actually abide by it?

Given his recent actions, you have to ponder on the former.

The silence is beginning to dig at you, and before you can think of it, you’re already speaking.

“Why are you helping?” there's no masking your suspicion, let alone twisting it around into something else. Your doubt is as plain as day and you can’t take it back.

Bruce meets you head on; expecting such a question, his ice leaden hue coats itself in a mist, something indiscernible, intangible.

His posture broadens, shoulders assuming a mass that had previously gone unnoticed. You realize, with hesitation, that he’s a lot bigger than he had let on.

“Why not?”

It’s your turn to glower, folding your arms you straighten your figure as he had. “So what, you’re helping the GCPD out of the kindness of your heart?”

“Something like that,” you don’t like that answer, its evident to even the most ignorant that it prickles, a thorn wiggling its way inside your conscience - he smirks again, because of course your suspicion has him bemused, “lets just say I’d rather have good people working to protect Gotham with my help, instead of giving a blind eye and allowing whoever wants to to do it for me.”

Good people. The term sticks with you, it clings like the last note of a song that’ll never leave your head.

“You mean people like Cobblepot and Maroni?”

Your lack of censoring seems to catch him off guard, but he nods anyway.

“Yes, people like them.” Disgust plays at the edges of his rich voice, reviled and recognized all the same.

You don’t know your co-workers well enough to defend them, let alone declare they’d never work for monsters. But you weren’t blind to the very simple fact, that given the chance, many would take the job happily.

It’s no secret that they pay well for their eyes and ears. Right now, the GCPD is the cleanest it's ever been since you arrived. Gordon always reminds you it was worse, once upon a time, and that you should always safeguard yourself.

Hell, the only person you trust here is Gordon, and you suppose that's your fault. He’s the only one you’ve bothered to get to know. However, he’s also the only one here who went out of their way to get you to speak up.

Curious, you prod further, “And you’re the person to do it?”

“I would like to think so,”

“Why’s that?”

Resolve spills over his expression, any sign of playful intentions swept away in its oncoming storm.

“I’m the only one in power who wants Detective Gordon as Commissioner.”

Okay, you have to admit, you didn’t expect that. The revelation sheds a new light on the enigma that is Bruce Wayne. It doesn’t take an idiot to know who else he's referring to. Those who even reach the potential influence of Gotham's prince aren’t on top because they’re pure of heart.

No, they’re omnipotent because they crush whoever gets in the way, and their riches are drowning in the blood of those they sacrifice just for a taste of power.

If Gordon were to become Commissioner, it would be that much harder to pursue the police force as a ‘free-for-all’ market.

It’s difficult to hide your admiration, and you can’t steal your gaze from him, not this time. He holds it as he does the rest of Gotham; in the palm of his hand.

“Do you dislike the idea?” he asks, quirking a brow.

He can’t read minds, you remind yourself, and shake your head.

“No, just…surprised.”

“I hope it’s because you're satisfied with my answer,” you’re a little taken aback when he admits this, and are diffident towards this unexpected behavior, “and not because you dislike the detective.”

“No, no!” you immediately urge, “he’s a good man. I can’t think of anyone better suited for the job than him.”

He smiles, this time it’s genuine, it catches you off guard. “Great minds think alike.”

You sense it, the conversation coming to an end, and you fiddle with the hem of your jumper - a simple desperation for something to do.

A beat passes, and when you think it really is over, he speaks once more.

“May I ask a personal question?”

Hesitation seems to be your forte today; you grasp for the right words, chest constricting in just the slightest tug. You can’t help but indulge the question, as unexpected as it is, you are a curious being down to your core. It can’t be helped.

Nodding, you clasp your hands together.

He looks relieved, you think, a soft composition smoothing over his stern features.

“Why’d you move to Gotham?” your heart near skips a beat, “it’s no secret this city is a lost cause to many, so why here? Why risk exposing yourself to…its everyday atrocities?”

Bruce Wayne's sincere curiosity strikes you as mildly inconvenient and absurd. You’re a coroner with absolutely no record in his eyes, no past, and little to no interaction with those who populate the city. Only until recently have you been so deeply involved in Gotham’s unique proceedings.

Without precedence, you retort, “How’d you know I moved here?”

“Gordon mentioned it.”

Why is it always him? Masking your disappointment under the guise of neutrality, you hum.

Bruce waits patiently, much to your disdain. Apparently, this isn’t something he’ll drop. Absently, you wander to your chair and sit down.

What were you supposed to say? ‘I’m hiding from my ex-husband and Gotham was the best place to do so’?

You couldn’t admit that. Not to anyone. The less people who knew the better. You didn’t want to even think of what Jon might do if he found out you had ‘accomplices’.

Settling on an absent lie, you purse your lips.

“I had a difficult home life,” you exclaim, and it isn’t much of a lie, more so twisted than anything else, “Gotham was the furthest away, I guess.”

Bruce nods to himself, pensive, and says, “I’m sorry.”

You shrug, “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Before he can find a response, his phone rings. It’s a common jingle, nothing personalized. He answers immediately and steps away. He patiently listens to whoever he exchanges his name with, and hangs up seconds after.

He beams in your direction, and somehow it appears far more relaxed.

“Duty calls,” he exclaims, “it was a pleasure making your acquaintance doctor Ives.”

You weren’t expecting direct acknowledgment towards your profession, as many in your field of work refuse to. Whether it’s because you’re a woman or someone who examines dead bodies, you don’t know.

It’s nice to hear, and frankly, he was the last person you’d thought who would.

Candid and open, you soften; a gentle simper gracing your person.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

With a slant of a nod, he leaves. Following his exit wafts a pinch of cedar and bergamot, and distinct notes of sandalwood.

It’s pleasant.

Feedback/reblogs are incredibly meaningful. Please support your content creators!

Taglist: @hollandorks @blue-aconite @thecraziestcrayon @charnelhouse @sugarcoated-lame @whatkindofnameshould @blossomedfloweroflove @thescarletfang @rosemarypoppies @bluebunny456

#the batman 2022 #the batman #battinson #robert pattinson #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x oc #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson x you #robert pattinson x y/n #battinson x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x female reader

94 notes · View notes

sunmoonjune · 10 months

Note

YOOOOO I THINK I HAVE REVELATIONS OKAY I THINK IM ONTO SOMETHING. ltm literally made me sit my ass down and write hANDWRITTEN NOTES not even the english syllabus during high school made me study a text like this

okay okay first off i think i have a clearer idea of the whole timeline of events. SO FIRST UP - completing ignoring father's backstory and the secrets that led up to all of this - bug's birth mother dies when bug is born -> murdered by her father as it's implied that bug's biological mother is the first of his victims in his attempts to maintain title of chief. plus the attendants helping her die so if that doesn't spell out fishy idk what does

then daia comes to learn of the secret, i'm thinking this is way before she gets killed, because she had wanted bug to enjoy her childhood esp with the 'looming uncertainty' of her father's intentions. which means she had known all along and had attempted to rectify the issue as best as she could by loving bug and giving her the best childhood. i'm not sure what leads daia to confront bug's father that particular night, but that's what leads to bug being forced to kill daia

now THIS IS WHERE I CHANGE MY THEORY. originally i thought that this incident bug's father twists to place the blame on bug, which leads to her punishment. BUT NO a year passes between daia's death and The Incident. something ELSE happens which leads to (as punishment im assuming) bug gaining her eye scar and yun his back scar, because we know that they get those injuries the same day. it's not daia's death that directly resulted in their injuries,,,,,, maybe yes the start of the avalanche, but it took a year

i'm also going to place a bet that bug, at the very least, was punished publicly when the incident occurs because she has memories of being dragged by her hair to the centre of the camp. PLUS in chapter 2 yunho has memories of 'being held back as a body cried in front of him. her cries still rang in his head. her blood still stained his skin'. ngl originally i was like omg is this someone else that's important to yun that we haven't been introduced yet like DID YUN'S MUM ALSO GET MURDERED OR SOMETHING. but now i'm thinking that the 'her' in the memory really is just bug and he's recalling that night he watched bug get punished. which also kind of makes sense when it's linked to him recalling when he truly felt pure terror 'when he'd been unable to protect you as you had him. when he felt fear humming in his chest and pushing him forward to step between you and a knife intended for your skin' bECAUSE at first he is forced to watch but adrenaline and raw need to protect bug enables him to take one of the blows ->>>>>> WHICH LEADS TO THE SCAR ON HIS BACK.

also im going to guess that fire or heat of some kind was involved in the incident, because there are actually so many times in ltm where bug's ptsd trauma relates to a 'searing hot knife pressed against the skin', 'ignore the heat of flame', 'lick of fire against your skin' and also yun not putting more blankets on bug even though it's cold because he knows what kind of memories it will bring up. which also runs along with the lil theme you've got going with fire being in integral scenes of her healing process and as a motif for same

and then this whole incident also plays a part (if not the main reason) for bug training and entering the trials. because FREAKING CHAPTER 1 had hinted at it all along and my brain just filtered it right out of my system. 'after that particular night, you had trained long and hard for this chance'.

now there's still the whole mystery surrounding bug's father's secret, The Incident itself, and what actually happened that led to yun's banishment. I SWEAR THEY'RE ALL CONNECTED BUT I CANNOT WORK OUT HOW. BUT i really do think that it's got a lot to do with bug's gender, maybe even her identity as the first-born child, her father's title as head chief. my brain is shutting down now it's out of fuel from this rapid thinking. YOU CAN EVEN TELL FROM THE LACK OF EMOJIS I PUT INTO THIS ASK HAHAHAHAH THERES NOT A SINGLE ONE. this is how you can tell i mean b u s i n e s s

okay loren signing out for now bc shes tIRED

ok ok I finally have a chance to answer this theory update xD loren and her theories are always SO amazing so I hope you enjoy her big brain :}}

also!! she literally sent me photos of the pages of notes she took and I literally ??? almost cried fr :"DD that was SO cute and made me SO happy you don't even know <3

ok so first,, bug's bio mom and her death is def important so I'm glad you picked up on it ;)

and!! you are definitely on the right track that daia learned of the secret quite a bit before her death,, she did indeed want to protect bug as much as she could by keeping the secret and trying to give bug the best childhood possible :")

next! yes at least a year passes between daia's death and the incident in which bug and yun get their scars,, so there definitely is something else that causes the avalanche to finally collapse ;)

the incident that is referenced in chapter two,,, yes yunho is referring to bug in that moment -- you're definitely on the right track connecting those points ;)

and fire is important! there are so many instances in bug's past that have to do with fire and the way it was used against her :(( so it is a recurring image that is good to keep track of >:D

yes yes!! all these instances are connected!! and they will all be revealed soon!! and the gender part of the theory will also be very important too ;)) your theories come closer and closer every day my dear!!

hehe I love love LOVE reading your theories my love <33 thank you for sending this <3 I hope you're doing well and drinking lots of water!! I can't wait for you to read the next chapters xD

#moonie speaks #moonie's mutuals <3 #moonie's favs <3 #loren my love <3 #like the moon #like the moon spoilers

10 notes · View notes

queenpinesofdomino · 9 months

Text

Thoughts on season 2 because I’m hurt and i want to talk about it

Ep 6

Fuck! into the abyss we go!

Things Aziraphale has in the bookshop because he has trauma from the fire.

fake candles with batteries

and 4 fire extinguishers

at Heaven

Crowley somehow knows Muriel’s division

Crowley is soooo gentle with Muriel I love it. I think that in season 3 Crowley will be helping Muriel adjust on earth. Maybe he wont be going back at the bookshop but he might be popping up here and there like he did with Aziraphale.

“throne or dominion and above.” *casually opens the files* QUESTIONS!?

Crowley is surprised when Saraqael addresses him with his demon name and again doesn’t remember them but I think he’s lying this time. I wonder if Saraquel and Crowley were on the same division.

Ok here’s the thing. On the trial all the high up angels see and talk with Metatron BUT later they don’t recognize him. Not even Aziraphale’s recognize him BUT Crowley does.. if Gabriel had his memories would he recognize him as well? Is that a hierarchy thing or is it because he fell? Did Crowley talk with him the same way Aziraphale did last season and then took the decision to fall?

Metatron said that Gabriel couldn’t fall cuz they could only allow one prince to fall and that clearly is a Lucifer thing right?

Beelzebub is so gentle with their flies ,so cute

When Gabriel and Beelzebub held hands Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley’s shoulder (yes im normal about this)

I can't with Crowley! he’s sending them to Alpha Centuri lol

Question. What are the consequences of letting an Archangel and a Duke of hell leave. Like Lucy and the other angels the first time left because there was no “bad side” and someone had to be it, so they fell and made hell, but now it's bc the want to? Like they are not becoming humans they are just peacing out. And they are the “leaders”!! If Aziraphale and Crowley left they would have being just replaced but you can’t replace a fucking Archangel and a Duke can you? They do put Shax and Aziraphale (allegedly) but can they actually replace them?

Shouldn’t there be a hierarchy requirement for that like… Aziraphale is a principality how low is he? Muriel is the lowest and Metatron is the highest. Then there is Gabriel the Archangel who is in charge but they say that he is higher than Michael for some reason even tho google says there are three Archangels Gabriel, Michael and Raphael. So technically those three should be the same level no?

Then is Uriel and Saraquel.

If you don’t want to put Michael into Gabe’s position why not Saraquel?

I get the demon’s thing bc they are more chaotic and Shax is the smartest demon after Crowley and Beelzebub, but the angels confused the fuck out of me

And on that is God and Satan aware that this is happening? Are they just vibing with this whole situation? What the hell is happening?!

Im so here for the coffee theory

Metatron gives me the creeps

“Except the dim one” about Muriel. Interesting because so far they are the only angel dosed in light whenever they are on screen. Plus if we want to be literal she is the purest angel in that room all the other angels have “sinned” one way or another.

Insert coffee theory

Aziraphale is very cold at the beginning when talking to Metatron, then he drinks from the coffee and then when he listened to Metatron’s proposition he became warmer (but in the end he got manipulated into it)

“it’s very delicious”

“yes…I jolly hope so” that’s sus as fuck.. also he wanted to say damned but cant cuz he is the Metatron.

Aziraphale looks at Crowley for permission to walk with the Metatron and they give Crowley the MEANEST NASTIEST DEATH GLARE!!!

“we need a little US time” yes. please, fuck

Also I wonder what book Muriel was gonna take originally

“There’s only one candidate who makes the slightest bit of sense, you” WHY THO?!! You want a puppet. Someone to execute the plans that God and Satan have without asking questions or saying no. That’s why you let Crowley go and that’s why you fired Gabriel. Michael and Uriel are as powerhungry as angels can be but why not put Saraquel ?! Aziraphale is literally going against the status quo, albeit accidentally yes, since the Garden so why him?

(i have a theory on that)

Moving on

“Oh Crowley, nothing lasts forever” WHO GAVE YOU THIS IDEA THO? You collect books. Yes you know that nothings lasts forever cuz you are an immortal being living among the mortal but that is a “new” mentality for an optimistic character. Again you collect books. Books that are made from organic matter. Books that almost got burned. Aziraphale didn’t stop having the bookshop after the fire, he took precaution so that it wont happen again. That’s not an “nothing lasts forever” mentality if you ask me. It was either from the coffee or he was meant to say something else.

I would like to point out that Crowley took his glasses off when he tried to speak first and put them back on after “nothing lasts forever”. Thank you im not ok

AZIRAPHALE WAS CRYING WHEN CROWLEY LEFT AND METATRON CAME IN

And he’s hesitating HAAAARD

Like he knows that’s the wrong choice. He even tries to change his mind, or change the terms of the agreement but decides not to.

AND HE KEEP STARING AND SEARCHING FOR CROWLEY OUT OF HIS FUCKING WINDOW. THE ONE CROWLEY KEEPS LOOKING AT HIM FROM THE OUTSIDE. THE ONE OVER HIS DESK.

I CANT WITH THIS SHOW.

I AM DECEASSED. And im going to bed..jesus

#good omens #good omens episode 6

6 notes · View notes

mareenavee · 1 year

Note

Hello, I give you Fire for the dragon-themed game! 💖

Dragon Themed Ask Game for my TES Fic: The World on Our Shoulders.

Game is here.

Fire: share a snippet with some dialogue you’d like to show off.

Hi <3 Thank you for asking! Dialogue is my favorite part to write so I have a lot of it to pick from hehehe.

Here's a tiny segment between Geldis and Teldryn from the upcoming Chapter 21, maybe not exactly final. Enjoy! :D

“Let’s go, outlander. It’s best to get an early start in case of ash storms,” Teldryn said, as he knocked on Nyenna’s door. He heard her grumble in protest, and walked away to get breakfast for them both, as well as some provisions for their trip. It wasn’t past six in the morning yet, and Geldis hadn’t finished prepwork for the morning rush. It was the perfect time to bother him.

“I can’t believe she hired you,” Geldis said as he stirred a pot of porridge over the fire pit. He shook his head in dismay and didn’t bother to look up at him.

“You know how well I can fight. If she’s as good as I think, finally I’ll have a patron worthy of my skill,” Teldryn said simply, rummaging around the pantry. “Plus I’ve been sitting around for ages. It’ll be fine. I needed the work.”

“I’ll say it again and as many times as you need to be reminded – you never can keep things professional for long, and I doubt that has changed,” Geldis snapped. “And after only speaking to her for a couple evenings now, I can tell she’s troubled. She doesn’t need more from the likes of you.” Teldryn and he had been friends for decades at this point. Geldis knew him well, and he was probably completely correct about the situation, despite his attitude both times he’d tried to warn him. Not that any of it would deter him. Not now, knowing what he knew.

“We spoke at length yesterday, Geldis. She has troubles, sure. But…people like us generally do,” Teldryn said with a sigh. “Azura forgive me if I misread our meeting as some kind of sign.”

“Oh, let me guess. You didn’t tell her, did you?” Geldis said, crossing his arms.

“She doesn’t need my trauma on top of all she’s dealing with – and no. There’ll be a right time to tell her…it just isn’t now. This first job…I’m thinking it’s more of a trial. I may part ways with her after that, I may not. It depends.” Geldis raised an eyebrow, catching him in his lie. Of course he wouldn’t leave her service. Not willingly, regardless.

“Fine. What do you mean by ‘people like us,’ anyway? What is she, Almalexia reborn or some other madness?” Geldis asked sarcastically, throwing his hands into the air and waving his dish towel around wildly. Teldryn recoiled.

“No! Gods! Don’t even say something like that,” he said in utter disgust. He glared at Geldis angrily and shook his head. “No, she’s the Dragonborn, or so she claims.” Geldis looked stunned. Teldryn threw him a knowing look.

“It can’t be. That’s Nord superstition. She is not a Nord,” Geldis said, almost dumbfounded. “Too short compared to the stories.”

“Suppose it doesn’t matter. What if she really is another hero of legend? Tell me then, what are the chances?” Teldryn insisted.

“You may be right,” Geldis conceded. “But it doesn’t mean she needs your brand of nonsense. It’s a big job. You know best of all.”

“That I do. There’s something here. I’m not sure what else it could be if not…fate,” Teldryn said. He shook his head. “As much as I hate that word.”

Geldis simply shrugged and said, “Get out of my kitchen, now, with your mention of fate and other idiocy. Breakfast will be ready in a minute. And no matter who she is – remember what I said.”

#AskMareena #MareenaWrites #Skyrim #Teldryn Sero #Geldis Sadri #Nyenna #The World on Our Shoulders #LDB/Teldryn Sero #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #fanficblr #skyrim fic #skyrim fanfic #skyrim fanfiction

6 notes · View notes

bluebirdjay · 1 year

Text

sooooo, i finished dragon prince season 4. time to dump all my thoughts,

things i liked

ezran’s speech, it was made so well with him talking about pain and anger and how that need to stop and how that’s paralleled with claudia and ibis fight to show what happens when you don’t move on and try to do better because claudia literally brought her dad back to life because she couldn’t accept his death

TERRY, absolutely loved him, so bubbly and cute but still has his own demons that he deals with. just a nice introduction. also love claudia’s and terry’s dynamic, they are so 🥰, but also to show how claudia is able to live despite doing horrific things

rayllum dynamic, it feels how it should be after you know your girlfriend disappears for two years ON YOUR BIRTHDAY, comes back and tries to act as if that did not happen. and callum is trying to act cold cause he is hurt but rayla just wants to get things how they were before. also liked when rayla pursued viren a second time that callum understood it. honestly to show that if rayla actually discussed it with callum to do this he probably would have understood

janaya. they were just SO SOFT, AND CARING AND JUST EVERYTHING I NEED. i loved the communication with them. it’s still interesting that while janai is very good at understanding the sign she is not as well as in actually signing them which is interesting. to me suggests that janai put more effort in to understanding what amaya is trying to communicate than learning how to sign herself which makes sense since amaya can lip read. and also liked how they are basically demonstrating the problems and issues that would happen when elves and humans get reintroduced to each other after so many decades separated. like the conflict of cultures how one thing is insignificant to one has such importance and weight to the other. also the miscommunication with the soul fire makes so much sense since both of the characters considering one is grief stricken while one is panicking that the whole camp will set on fire. and also love the trial and amaya admitting that the architect literally trashed a funeral and janai giving such a fair punishment for the crime. like really liked that.

SOREN, MY SORBEAR. doing great. him just living his life, being a crownguard and a part time jester. also love his progression in the relation ship with dragons. how he is slowly understanding other beings that he tries to kill and instead befriend them. especially when he captured claudia and how gentle he is with the butterfly and the butterfly being comfortable with him that it kept coming back. where claudia or viren would not hesitate to kill it and have it in the emergency stash of magical beings.

i like the hair style changes. like i am trying to decide what it means for different characters as some grow their hair out while others cut them. like with soren i thing it’s him finally letting go and not needing to be under the pressure or control of his father and need his approval and him just doing what he wants. if you have thought on other characters would love to see

the different mature topics touched upon like panick attacks, viren having trauma from his death, aftermaths of war where both sides have been wronged, breaking the cycle of violence, reintroduction of different communities. i really enjoyed it

i liked the exploration of viren. him literally being like “oh i will die in 30 days, maybe i can finally just live and die peacefully”. like he was willing to accept dying. not pursue power, goals or even help aaravos. just to live. also his hesitance to do dark magic again. it’s interesting that he is reluctant to do it again, knowing once he walks that path again i don’t think he will be able to go of it again. also his relationship with claudia and terry, i think was very nice. also him just adopting kids left and right except his own son (´；ω；`)

Karim, like i hate him but he is a good character to introduce the conflict with is being and reflecting the people who are not so happy to reintroduce other communities

the things i did not like so much. most of it is criticism but some i feel weird about

the situation of the trial with janai and amaya. it felt really weird as in how amaya reacts. like how she is kind of making fun of the whole just punishing someone for blowing out a candle. like it felt weird how inconsiderate amaya was to janai’s culture. also shouldn’t amaya be kind of aware of the funeral rites of sunfire elves, ya know with janais sister being dead and then holding the soul fire. like i would assume amaya was present for such an important event.

the criticism i have is i think the show is too short. like i mean it’s everyone’s complain that we need MORE, which i agree but i think 9 episodes is no longer enough to tell such a story. like the story and character dynamics and stakes have become so much more complex that more time is needed to explore all the points. like the writing felt sometimes like season 1. like it’s good but is not deep. like the main cast felt a bit flat occasionally like ez. like it more visable when soren sees viren for the first time after his death. and we don’t actually see his proper reaction of realizing the father that has manipulated him, to the point of almost becoming a child murder, is back after finally living his life without his father presence outside of the scream, there wasn’t really anything.

NOT ENOUGH AARAVOS. I NEED MY STARTOUCHED ELF MORE IN MY LIFE. HIS PRESENCE, APPEREANCE, HIS DEEP ASS VOICE.

edit: completely forgot, i really liked the parallels of viren and callum. like both are high mages of katolis, have a strong relationship with the king, both interested in knowledge and specifically the mirror. a lot of shots parallel each other. like i really like how it’s was made but does not mean i like what they suggest

#the dragon prince #tdp #tdp season 4 #tdp s4 #tdp spoilers #the dragon prince spoilers #me thoughts #on the season cause there are many thing that i liked but some stuff just was not it

14 notes · View notes

marshmallowprotection · 2 years

Note

I've been dissociating really bad lately and it's really scary. Can i have comfort from SE Saeran please?

SE Saeran knows what it feels like to slip in and out of reality. It’s hard to deal with it when you don’t have the tools to know what you need to do and what you have to do to counter the discomfort. He learned from a trial by fire, and even to this day, it’s tough for him to rationalize the best way to help himself whenever it happens to him. He tends to sit own in a corner and wait it out, even if it’s very uncomfortable and makes him want to drag his nails against his forearms to try and snap himself out of it. It’s not easy.

So, when he realizes that you’re dealing with something similar, he hates to see it happening. He doesn’t want to see you suffering since you’re someone who’s very important to him. He may not always be able to say it, but he wants you to know how much you mean to him. You’re the most important person in his life at this point, and he’s grateful for the kindness and compassion you give him, even if he’s a bit of an ass sometimes back to you.

You’re a model of patience and he knows that he could be better, so he tries to do better for your sake... and for his. It’s hard to learn how to be happy and how to be kind after years of biting his tongue and knowing that he had to do what it took to keep himself alive. That’s not how he lives anymore, that’s not what he has to stand for. He knows that when he sees you smiling at him, and that’s why it’s so hard to see you shivering and staring off into space.

He knows that look like the back of his hand.

Saeran doesn’t want to startle you but he knows what you need. He doesn’t move you from your spot, but he does go to grab a blanket for you so there’s something around you body to help you feel like you exist. His hands are gentle when he nudges it against your shoulders and frowns. He looks pained but he’s trying to wrack his brain for what to do. He doesn’t know what will help you since he barely helps himself when it happens.

So, he sits down next to you and offers you his hand. If you manage to take it, that’s up to you, if you don’t, he’ll understand that you have boundaries and it’s hard to focus when you’re caught up in a storm. He knows that more than anything that all he wanted when he needed help was someone to sit there and tell him that he wasn’t losing his mind. He felt crazy when it started to happen as much as it did, but he wasn’t. He was dealing with a lot of trauma and discomfort by himself. His brain was overwhelmed, and that means yours is too.

That means he sits by your side and he talks to you, you don’t have to respond, nor do you have to listen. But, he knows that it helps to feel normal whenever it happens. This is the only thing he can think of that could be helpful to you, but he hopes that it means something to you when you’re able to look back at him. Even if it does nothing, he wants to be there for you since you have always been there for him.

#mod kait #ask #mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #anon #mysticmessenger #choi saeran #mm #se saeran #mm saeran #mysme saeran #saeran mm #saeran mysme #saeran mystic messenger #saeran #mystic messenger saeran

27 notes · View notes

astrobiche · 2 years

Text

Myths in astrology: gray zone 🌓

Why no placement is inherently 100% "good" or "bad" ☄️

• jupiter is always good news : YES, jupiter represents wealth, wisdom, higher education, optimism and faith/morals HOWEVER, the jupiter principle lies in EXPANDING, it's greedy, whatever it touches is inflated, no matter if its a good or a bad thing. It encourages to overindulge. Jupiter can be active in charts of accidents, what could have been contained is now too big to have under control. Jupiter-pluto conjunctions can signify disasters and has been linked to pandemics.

Having venus-jupiter in hard aspect could make us OVERSPEND, or over-love, in aspect to mercury, overthink, etc.

• Trines are always good news : YES, trines allow a harmonious easy flow of energy between planets, it aids and helps in them manifesting in a way that's tension-free, its our line of least resistance and represents what we fall back onto to feel good, its what comes naturally to us. HOWEVER, trines make us lazy, they prompt us to lay back, its more or less passive (unlike a sextile aspect which is more active), we may not even recognize the talent that comes with the trine because it comes so easily to us we may miss it and fail to see just how amazing it is because we may be inclined to assume everyone possesses similar abilities. Having too many trines in a chart can make someone thats not very productive, or who had a too easy childhood to the point that they're not well equipped to deal with life's trials. In accidents, a trine allows the damage to flow easily as well. Its bad news for the observer but good news from the standpoint of the destructive energy that is met with less resistance than a square for example.

• squares are always bad : YES, squares create tension, its two planets that are at variance, each one tugs in a different direction except instead of one going left and the other right (opposition), one is going left and the other up, (venus square uranus : one's uniqueness and independence feels at odds with one's need to fit in and be popular/well liked or there could be a desperate need to incorporate both into the equation which generates lots of friction) HOWEVER, squares make us more aware of our boundaries, our abilities, our strengths and weaknesses, they urge us to test these boundaries, FRICTION CREATES ENERGY. Having two fists up creates more energy than two hands being held together (trines), the tension allows us to tap into a well of potential if the energy is properly handled.

While a trine can make us complacent and willing to accept any given situation, good or bad, a square's uncomfortableness pushes us to break free of it.

• Pluto and saturn are all bad : pluto is taboo, the collective shadow, what we hide from, the ugly parts of ourselves that we keep under wraps, too afraid and paranoid to lift the lid on, it alludes to trauma, and things that we bury, its death (more psychological than physical) HOWEVER, pluto is power, it gives intensity, it bestows the ability to transform, evolve and reinvent one's self, it aligns us with nature's cycles of life and death, the phoenix rises from the ashes, right when the fire has consumed each fiber of its previous form, when despair hits rock bottom, and when the night couldnt get darker, is one the glimpse of light befalls us all, carbon can only turn into a pretty bright diamond after it endures immense levels of pressure. Pluto urges us to dive deep within ourselves, dig into our psyche to allow the nasty parts to resurface, working through them, like a buried treasure.

• same with pluto, saturn gets dragged, but saturn is your school teacher that was so strict you quacked in your boots at the sight of him, the type to be breathing down your neck as he looks over your homework, pulling on your ear when he sees a mistake and turning your attention to the ways you can improve, the classes are hours long and the teacher restricts breaks, further testing your boundaries so you can thoroughly understand the material. The teacher you only get to appreciate once you get older and could reap the benefits of his teachings, now that the material helps you navigate through life easier than before. Saturn restricts, makes you feel inadequate, instills fear and builds walls so you can be as sturdy as lead, it delays to make sure you never rush through anything, take your time and learn.

• neptune is all glamour and artistic abilities, YES, neptune rules media and arts, dreams, the collective yearning, glamour, enchantment, transcending to a dimension thats extraordinary, ethereal. HOWEVER, in its pursuit to purify everything it touches, neptune cuts the edges, polishes the planet its aspecting to the point it becomes hard to reach, unrecognizable and synthetic. It lends to disillusion, dissipates boundaries and makes us thirsty to get more, and do more to the point we reach perfection and a lofty ideal, but unlike saturn, we cant see the boundaries anymore, reality is hazy, foggy and out of reach, it puts us under a spell. It rules leaks as well and operates through infiltration, you never know that you're under its spell until it has wafted its way through the cracks and you're already wrapped in its mist, be careful of neptune.

• venus is all love and light : while venus does rule cooperation, giving and sharing, pleasure, arts and everything delectable, it doesnt do it out of a sense of selflessness, it usually shares and gives to get something in return : love, money or popularity "i want what you want", unlike mars thats more straightforward and honest about it " i want what i want", having too many venus contacts, especially to the angles, or too much venusian energy in a chart can make you complacent and indecisive for the sake of keeping peace and harmony, not tipping the scales, or too preoccupied of beauty and pleasure and comforming, unable to really get deep.

#astrology #astro notes #astro observations #astrology observations #astrology notes #astro community #this post gives off mutable energy lmao

374 notes · View notes

jaskier-cult · 3 years

Text

The Witcher With Blue Eyes

*throws this at you* random bullshit, go!

here, take some random ramblings of an au i came up with!! no fucking idea where i am going with this, but you can't stop me

There are stories of a witcher with blue eyes.

Geralt was still a relatively new witcher, just five years on the Path, when this rumor appeared, and he was not naïve enough to fall for such fodder.

All witchers had yellow eyes. This was a given. None of the witcher schools had the exact same mutagens – every school was just slightly different, imbuing their witchers with the characteristics of the wild beast they represented – but all witchers had yellow eyes. That was how it was. That was how the mutagens worked. That was how a witcher could be recognized.

A witcher with blue eyes.

Geralt scoffed.

There are stories of a witcher with blue eyes.

There are stories of a witcher who strangled a wyvern with his bare hands, out of madness.

There are stories of a witcher who laughed, with empty blue eyes, as he danced with his twin blades and wrought cold blood.

Geralt is no longer new to the Path, and he has heard these stories for a while now. Even among his own brethren, the stories are whispered and shared. His mentors talk about blue eyes with cold indifference, but it’s apparent they are unsettled. A blue eyed witcher – who ever heard of such a thing?

But then the School of Viper loses its most infamous witcher in its own keep. In the blink of an eye.

And Geralt’s not so sure they’re rumors anymore.

Julian was different.

Even before the mutagens and the training and the trauma, he was always slightly to the left.

When he arrived at the steps of the School of the Viper, he had been scared witless. Gorthur Gvaed, the Viper Keep, also known affectionately as Blood Gate Keep by its inhabitants, was located deep in the Tir Tochair mountains. It was the furthest south Julian had ever been; it had been months from the lands he had grown up in.

It was also the furthest he had ever travelled, dead on his feet as he followed the viper witcher down the beaten Path, in boots not cut-out for the long days walking.

The witcher rode his horse while Julian walked. Julian was never allowed to touch the stallion and was threatened with the loss of his hand otherwise. The witcher only stopped when Julian could go no further, and sometimes then, forced the stumbling boy on with a crushing grip on his arm. Julian would sway on his feet, his vision would swim, and not even his not-so-human blood could save him from his human needs, like food, and water, and rest.

The witcher never gave him his name. He did not speak except to give commands. He called Julian names like “wretch” and “bastard.” He never called Julian by his name.

He was cold and cruel, like the village kids used to be to Julian.

Julian did not like the witcher.

But then they would pass through a village or small backwater hamlet, and he would see the sneers and barely disguised looks of disgust on the humans’ faces. The witcher may have thought him a mindless child, but he was smart, and he noticed when the witcher was forced to pay over three times the asking price for services like horse stabling and food. He saw when the witcher was scammed on hunts when they made their way south. He caught the whispers and murmurs of half-baked plans to murder the witcher in his sleep, just for being different.

He bore witness to the mistreatment of the witcher.

And though he damned himself for thinking it, Julian understood. He felt a kinship with the witcher.

And it did not excuse the witcher’s behaviour. It did not excuse his cruelness. Hurting others was a choice, no matter how hurt you were. But even then, a small part of Julian could sympathize with the man who was beat into this cruel soul.

They weren’t so different from each other, cruelness and all.

It took a long time for the witcher to trust Julian enough to leave him unsupervised – always with a threat lingering, of promising to hunt him down and slit his throat if he tried to run away – but when he finally did, Julian made no attempt to escape because he knew there was no point.

But Julian would never forget the face of the witcher when he came back from a hunt to find their camp painted with blood, Julian sitting by the fire and methodically cleaning the dagger he had successfully slipped from the witcher without notice. Several bodies lay on the outskirt of the camp; bandits who had made the mistake of thinking Julian was helpless.

An arm was missing from one of the bandits and the fire in the middle of the camp was roaring, the wood stacked high and the flames impossibly hot. Julian roasted his meal over the fire. It served the witcher for leaving him to starve, he thought bitterly.

And just once, Julian preened when he saw the way the witcher looked at him.

With something more than contempt.

With something akin to unease.

Julian was eight that night.

Julian was nothing.

Julian certainly wasn’t special when he arrived at Blood Gate Keep. He certainly wasn’t the first more-than-human boy to be claimed by a witcher and taken for the Trials.

Julian was nothing.

Julian was a contradiction of bloodlines, was the product of a shameless family.

Julian was nothing.

Julian was not special. Julian was not different. Julian was not more.

Julian was nothing.

Julian was not going to survive, because he was weak and small and he didn’t listen, and Julian was nothing. He was nothing. He was nothing. He was nothing. That was drilled into him as sure as the sun rose in the east and set in the west.

Because Julian was nothing.

Every witcher school had the boys relentlessly train. The mutagens only did so much, and there was no success if there was talent without skill. Julian learned this very early on.

But Blood Gate Keep, despite the Trials, and physical training, and reading in bestiaries, still had all young witchers in training go through a final exam: The First Hunt. It was a physical exam before the Trials took place. The young boys had to survive in the surrounding wilderness for several days isolated and alone and make a kill; every boy was put out prepared with weapons and camping gear and told not to come back until they had proof of their kill.

Blood Gate Keep was in a remote location, more remote than other witcher schools, far away from any human civilization in the mountains, and as such the surrounding lands were wild and untamed. Mindless beasts and monsters roamed the base of the mountains, hid in the passing rivers, and hung in the low clouds.

Nobody thought of running away, for that only led to death.

The boys were given two weeks to complete The First Hunt, and no more. If they came back without proof of kill, they were slaughtered. Sometimes the vipers of the keep would take pity and leave them to starve out in the wilderness, alone.

Any monster would do, as long as it was dead and killed.

Sometimes the boys went for small monsters, or babes of monsters not yet old enough to walk and open their eyes. Some boys killed wildlife and maimed it so much it was indistinguishable from any other monstrous corpse, and they would claim it a monster. No one ever batted an eye at them.

Julian was thrown out of the keep with nothing but a bedroll and his dagger.

His mentors laughed as they closed the door on the young boy.

No one thought he would survive the Trials, much less complete The First Hunt.

He set out with a vengeance.

He survived out of pure spite.

And he marched straight back up the mountain to Blood Gate Keep, soaked in the blood of an arch griffin, blue eyes wild, the tongue of the griffin ripped straight from its mouth with his bare hands.

His dagger was clean.

The other boys in the keep were cruel, just like the witcher who brought him there. Even within the confines of stone walls, with death imminent, his peers still couldn’t find it within themselves to be kind toward him.

Julian has watched many boys comfort each other on cold nights, has watched older boys console the younger, has noticed the way many boys sleep together because of nightmares.

But not with him.

They tease and mock him.

They push and shove him.

They point and stare.

He’s the only one with eyes as blue as his, with a streak of wild that could not be tamed by their mentors, almost feral. He’s the only one who didn’t bow and snap under the cruelties of Blood Gate Keep. The only one who was not infected with hatred.

And none of the other boys can sympathize with him because they don’t understand him. Julian does not wish to hurt others. All the boys at Blood Gate Keep were going through the same thing, but it affected all of them differently. And some of the boys took the lessons they were handed and grew up bitter and wishing others could feel their hurt; others took their lessons and grew up tired and wishing others would never feel their hurt.

But none of it matters because the other boys still hate Julian.

It hurts, because even among a group of those who knew what he was going through, he still felt utterly alone. He was slipped poison in his drinks. His food was swiped. His clothes were shredded. He was targeted in training. There was no end to the cruelness, from mentors and peers alike.

Some days Julian falls mute from the sheer pressure pushing in on him from everything and everyone.

One day Julian is almost killed in his sleep by another boy in his cohort, and no one says anything when that boy never shows up again. It was not uncommon – even normal – for those in Blood Gate Keep to betray each other and sabotage others. It was encouraged. And still, Julian forces himself from his bed to live to see another day.

Julian uses his disadvantages to his advantage.

Everyone underestimates him.

He understands why.

Julian is small. Even with all the hormone packed lichen and meat the witchers fed the boys at the keep in preparation for training and Trials. Julian is thin where the other boys are broad, he is lean where the other boys are muscled. Julian has soft features. He has soft floppy hair and soft blue eyes. The other boys have stringy hair and deep shit-coloured eyes, even if they weren’t brown.

Julian won’t survive the Trials because he’s too weak. He’s not quite human, but he is still weak in the eyes of his mentors. Julian doesn’t do what he’s told. He will fail.

But within Julian’s small frame is a feral animal.

And it’s almost laughable when he sees their reaction every time they push, push, push – and he finally pushes back, finally snaps at them – and they’re shocked. Like they never saw it coming, even though it happened every time.

You don’t see what you don’t want to believe, supposedly.

Julian learned that the School of the Viper did things a little differently than the other witcher schools, and he wasn’t surprised.

He wasn’t surprised to learn of his school’s failings.

Julian passes through the Trials, to everyone’s shock.

Julian comes out of the Trials with his same inhuman blue eyes, to everyone’s shock.

Julian slits the throat of the witcher who had brought him to Blood Gate Keep, to no one’s shock.

Probably because they never found out it was him.

Witchers weren’t liked, but some schools had better reputations than others.

Certainly, the wolves of Kaer Morhen had the most heroic reputation; headstrong and loyal, with more morals than most witchers, disregarding that most witchers didn’t have morals at all.

The cats of Stygga Castle were known to be maniac, either lacking all emotion or treading the fine line of insanity with too much emotion; they killed not just traditional monsters, but also monsters of the human variety, and would take any contract for an innocent’s head if given enough coin.

But the vipers of Gorthur Gvaed were neither of those.

Vipers were predators, through and through.

The mutagens the School of Viper used did not tamper with emotions the way the mutagens from the School of Cat did; it did not need to, for every Viper that came out of Blood Gate Keep was beaten into a cruel and merciless man.

The School of Viper did not raise witchers with morals of a sense of duty to humanity, the way the School of Wolf did; vipers were not safe even within the walls of their own keep, for they never knew when a peer would turn on them for coin, vengeance, or fun. Witchers who stayed in the keep were constantly kept on their toes, their drinks poisoned in game, their training brutal and to the death, and vipers learned early on that you needed to strike first to win, lest your comrade do it first.

Vipers weren’t noble, and vipers weren’t insane; they were just senseless.

It was a lie that Cats were the most unstable witchers.

Cats may have had a reputation for being short a marble, but vipers were completely unpredictable.

Being the best got you nowhere in Blood Gate Keep.

His fellow witchers and mentors thought Julian weak. They only saw his blue eyes and small frame and soft voice, and their eyes passed over him.

That was good.

Being smart, being strong, being fast – those were traits that made you a target in the Viper’s den.

It was a constant battle of trying to best one another, trying to come out on top, trying to eliminate any form of threat, even if that threat was a fellow witcher, one of the few boys to make it through the Trials with you. Boys were poisoned left and right. Throats were slit. Witchers died in training if they weren’t strong enough, because a Viper never showed mercy, even when it was his brother who lay at the other end of his blade.

After all, if you couldn’t survive a spar, what good were you on The Path?

Julian used all weapons and tools at his disposal.

He never initiated an attack; he was never the one pouring acid in another’s stew, he didn’t engage in to-the-death spars, he never snuck through the keep and assassinated a fellow brother.

His behaviour wasn’t born out of morals, he soon realized.

It was predatory behaviour, like the Viper he was.

An opportunistic predator.

Julian sat in waiting; he waited for another to initiate the struggle against death. And then, before they could blink, before they could realize that their easy target isn’t so easy, they’re gone.

It was amusing to watch as his peers’ brows furrowed in confusion as to why he was still alive.

And yet, no one figured it out.

No one suspects the fool, after all.

Julian was probably the most dangerous Viper in the keep.

As soon as Julian earned his Viper medallion, he left Blood Gate Keep and never looked back.

Julian felt silly wearing two medallions at once, and with great reluctance, he took off the medallion from his parents and packed it at the bottom of his pack with care. He knew his new witcher medallion would be of more use, and would probably save his life, whereas he didn’t know the first thing about how to work the medallion his parents gave him. It was one of the few times he felt truly upset with himself, for all his achievements at Blood Gate Keep, he couldn’t figure out a simple magic piece.

Nonetheless, he didn’t bother with goodbyes or a grand departure. He felt no comradery with the vipers he had shared a den with.

And maybe he walked away with a few witcher corpses at his feet, but that was neither here nor there.

There are stories of a witcher with blue eyes.

But those stories haven’t been told in years, and Geralt forgets about them like bedtime stories told to children when they’re young.

After all, a witcher with blue eyes doesn’t exist.

As is the cycle with history, new stories come about.

There are stories of a bard with blue eyes.

#the witcher #witcher jaskier #viper jaskier #bamf jaskier #badass jaskier #feral jaskier #brief mention of geralt #headcanons #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #long post? kind of #viper witchers

456 notes · View notes

izusun · 3 years

Note

Goblin anon here absolutely screeching over feral quirkless Midoriya, it's everything I wanted

I would like to also introduce a brand (my brand) of feral to Midoriya: pyromaniac.

Imagine Midoriya getting through the entrance exam by saving people, but also by bringing makeshift Molotov cocktails and wrecking almost as much shop as Bakugou.

Imagine the battle trials where Bakugou tries to blow up the building because "that's the only way to keep this little shit down" and in response Midoriya dodges and then sets the building on fire.

Imagine the USJ incident, which goes about the same, but his first instinct is to set the Noumu on fire. Yes he does so. He also nearly sets the stadium on fire at the sports festival so much that they had to evacuate sections of the stadium.

Midoriya (say it with me now) sets Stain on fire. When Tsukauchi meets with the murder trio after the Hosu incident, he just sighs and is like "Midoriya, really?" And this is when we learn that Midoriya has a history of coming across random villains and setting them on fire. When Inko arrives to pick him up she's just like "You're grounded."

There's theories about what Midoriya's quirk, everything from increased intelligence to extremely shitty luck to the ability to make anything he touches explodes (due to his inane ability to make a bomb/lighter out of the most insane things). When it comes out that he's quirkless, it just makes everyone even more afraid, as Midoriya can make a bomb out of some LSD and a rubber duck quirkless-

Pyromaniac quirkless Midoriya.

- Goblin anon

GOBLIN ANON IT’S BEEN AGES IM SORRY IM JUST RESPONDING NOW (ive been so bad at responding asks my god i struggle but thank u for ur au dumps, i love loVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!)

IM IN LOVE WITH THIS AU

feral quirkless gremlin midoriya going through shit by setting things on fire is just the way to go im duwldjwksk

i read midoriya with molotov cocktails and i have not stopped simping for and thinking about this midoriya

genuinely swooning at this ver of him

midoriya probably has a collection of lighters and basically does those hand tricks to calm him down or to take his mind off of things

bakugou and midoriya being more familiar with each other in their middle school days compared to canon and bakugou gifting midoriya with personalized all might lighter god that’s adorable

ok but they’re talking about their favourite heroes and bakugou goes, “shocking that you don’t like endeavour.”

and midoriya just shrugs, twisting his hand and fingers to orchestrate the fire’s dance from his lighter, his viridian eyes brighter and says, “his fire feels wrong.” and they leave it at that

midoriya being inspired by bakugou’s explosions and attempting to copy those so bad that bakugou thought midoriya’s trying out for support classes

OK BUT FIGHT WITH SLUDGE VILLAIN?

he yanks out makeshift molotov cocktails from his bag, lights them up and throws them at the bastard. the sludge villain screams and retreats slightly because not only was he facing the fires but also the exploded glass shards. it gave enough time for bakugou to explode the villain and escape enough to allow him to breathe. in the end, all might still defeats the sludge but he misses bakugou and midoriya who escaped. no ofa for firey green bean.

bakugou helping midoriya create more explosions.

“but kacchba i want fire, not explosions!”

“same difference you pyro asshole!”

midoriya learns them anyways and enjoys it.

THE EXAM!!

i have two ways:

one: midoriya appealed to the staff that he needed support items and they allowed him and they watched in shock as this little boy explodes the arena worse than the explosion-quirked student. of course he passes and aizawa took him on as his student.

two: midoriya appealed to the staff that he needed his support items but the staff did NOT allow him because they’re considered weapons (as if quirks are not genetic weapons but i DIGRESS) and so when the exam starts, he stays at the very back of the other examinees. this was so that when he arrives at the scene, there are already spare parts for him to scavenge so that he can build makeshift explosions (foregoing whatever shit he learned from katsuki because all that’s on his mind right now are molotov cocktails)

so that’s what happens. he scavenges parts and hides inside one of the buildings so that he can focus more on making explosions and be less worried about being attacked. when he was fully geared, he steps out and begins to retaliate.

he works fast as to not waste his time and the makeshift explosions. because of this, others (ahem-aoyama-ahem) had no opportunity to steal his score.

same thing happens: uraraka gets caught and midoriya explodes the zero pointer. this time, however, the robot is utterly destroyed.

aizawa and majima saw midoriya’s performance, adored it, and began fighting for midoriya.

“majima, he’s here for the hero classes.”

“great. now give him to me.”

nezu pretends that he’s not planning on splitting midoriya’s schedule anyways.

BATTLE TRIAL OH MY GOD rip all might i bet you keeled over so bad, you were one second from turning to small might there and then.

all might: ok so one explodey kid to look out for. that’s not bad.

all might, one minute later: this green kid looks familiar…

all might, ten minutes later: what the fuck.

NO BECAUSE bakugou and midoriya being excited to explode things (well, more like midoriya’s excited and bakugou just wants to fight midoriya) and having a blast when fighting each other.

1a’s probably thinking “oh no” followed by “they’re hot” (literally too because yk the building’s on fire.)

MIDORIYA EXPLODING THE NOUMU??? king shit

midoriya saw this monster running to aizawa and he just points a more eloquent looking flame thrower (thank u mei for working with midoriya with that) at this beast and sets it on fire.

it effectively slowed the noumu and gave the others an opportunity to pull aizawa from the hit zone. it also granted all might more freedom when fighting the noumu because it was slowed enough that all might didn’t have to worry about exceeding his time limit.

the fire damaged some of its nerve processes that the scientist and afo had not accounted for. of course this review is returned to them and many of the noumus become fireproof because of this incident.

OK BUT DURING THE SPORTS FEST

midoriya crushing on todoroki because fire.

he was actually very interested in todoroki prior to sports fest but something about todoroki’s fight against sero sparked something more in midoriya. midoriya saw the anger from his ice, now he wants to see the same intensity from his fire.

his spiel of “that’s your power, todoroki” goes differently. todoroki still pulls him aside and trauma dumps on him but this time he goes, without missing a beat, “that fire is a waste on you.”

todoroki full body pauses because that’s not something he’s ever, well, considered to hear after trauma dumping.

“what?” he croaks, confused at the bubbling feeling. it’s a miasma of anger and hurt, but to a scale so unfamiliar.

midoriya shrugs. “fire is unique, more so as an elemental quirk. you think it doesn’t make half of you—well, i mean you’re right. it doesn’t. you make it. you control it. fire is often uncontrollable and yet here you are, having it as your power. it’s yours to control, so control it. use it.”

todoroki’s ears are ringing.

“you have it as your power.”

“so control it.”

and so he did.

midoriya watched todoki’s fire; watched the way the flames lick up up up and leaves no air bathed in heat. midoriya sees the rawness of anger and determination and thinks, “this is how fire should always look like.”

unconsciously he also thinks how todoroki’s fire is far more beautiful than endeavour’s.

midoriya loses and he’s not as sad about it. losing to something sentient (fire, not todoroki), for him, is a blessing.

todoroki advances along with bakugou.

bakugou who is jealous of todoroki because he saw how midoriya eyed todoroki’s fire and knew todoroki’s a competition in other more ways.

bakugou wins again, this time less angry because todoroki used his fire against him.

STAIN THINKING MIDORIYA’S JUST THIS WEIRD HERO STUDENT WHO HAS NO SPECIFIC QUIRK UNTIL HE FEELS FLAME KISS HIS SKIN AND SCREAMS BECAUSE DAMN IT GREEN EYED KID JUST SET HIM ON FIRE

todoroki full on pausing because he thought he’s the one who set stain on fire unconsciously only to follow the fire’s trail and sees it’s from one of midoriya’s many support items.

“shoot i didn’t mean to burn him that fast!”

“that’s your issue!?”

midoriya gives them a “duh?” look and todoroki feels himself warming up (HAH another fire pun) at midoriya’s ease.

flying noumi still comes and picks him up but midoriya also sets this thing on fire. the difference between a winged noumu and a normal noumu is that the wings are far more flammable and midoriya had quite a bit of fun at setting it on fire and hearing the crackling of flames on rubbery wings.

endeavour casts him a glance that speaks of approval and midoriya doesn’t know if he hates it or not.

tsukauchi arrives and sees not only stain, but the noumu and heaves up a very big sigh. “midoriya, really?”

GOBLIN! PYROMANIAC QUIRKLESS MIDORIYA IZUKU IS A FAVE IM SCREAMING

#goblin anon #ask #IM BACK W GOBLIN RAMBLINGS #god im still simping for tbis midoriya #goblin anon KNOWS where to HIT what a fella #bnha #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #slight #bakudeku #and #tododeku

258 notes · View notes

amor-immortalem · 3 years

Text

Everything Undesired chapter 4

Chapter 3

Warning: mention of torture? Light victim blaming, Lucifer, Satan, and Beel commit murder.

“I see,” Diavolo had a contemplative look on his face. The demon lord, often seen with a jovial, bright smile plastered upon his face, now had replaced it with a more serious look as Lucifer explained just what had happened to his brother. “And you’re positive this is what happened to Mammon?”

“Asmo is certain enough that he would stake his title as Avatar of Lust on it.” Satan spoke up.

“I see, if that’s the case then I will permit you up to the human world to pay these women a visit. Make sure they suffer, all three of you.” The warmth in his voice, his eyes, now replaced with a cold tone and a wrathful look, absolutely enraged that a demon not just under his rule, but in his cabinet no less had been assaulted in this manner. He may have failed in protecting the Avatar of Greed from this but he would see to it that a crime this grave never happened again to one of his subjects. “I’d would go in your stead to deal with them myself, but I will stay behind and work to pass legislation to ban the making of pacts freely. This will not happen again; I swear it on my life and my throne.”

And with Diavolo’s permission the three Avatars were off, out for blood for the travesty that befell their brother. Once they were gone, Diavolo turned to his butler.

“Barbatos, did you foresee this at all? Was there not anything we could have done differently to prevent this?” For as angry as he is, the demon lord feels a certain sense of guilt for what happened to the white-haired demon. What kind of ruler cannot protect one of his subjects from something so heinous?

“In another reality, yes.” He nodded, “But never in this one specifically, my Lord.”

“What happens next?”

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

The three Avatars stand outside the residence of the witches. Lucifer is the first to step forward, demon form manifesting from the wrath coursing through his being. The aura he emits is suffocating to all around him. A knock on the door is all the courtesy he plans to give them tonight.

When the door opens, there is a collective gasp.

“L-Lord Lucifer,” One of the sisters steps back as the three demons barge their way inside the building. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit from not only you, but your younger brothers as well?”

“Do not. DO NOT ACT AS IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO OUR BROTHER!” Satan roars, his demon for making its appearance. He’s ready to go on the attack however it’s Lucifer that stops him with a simple wave of the hand.

“We know everything you’ve done.” The eldest’s voice is cold, gaze calculated. “You’ve not only laid a hand on one of my brothers, but my favorite one at that. That in and of itself is enough to warrant your deaths, but to cause him such suffering will ensure they are not quick.

With another wave of his hand, the Avatar of Pride bound the three women before letting his brothers have a go at the other two. The eldest was his.

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

Asmo took a step into his brother’s room and was devastated to see the look on his brother’s face. He looked so broken; his cheeks soaked with tears as Asmo heard Arella speaking.

“You don’t have to do it if you’re not strong enough for it. I’m sure there are alternatives we could find if you can’t. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We all will help you if you decide to go through with this.”

The demon’s curiosity was piqued. Just what we’re they talking about?

“’Rella, I can’t ask that of any of you. This is my punishment for bein’ so powerless.”

Asmodeus cleared his throat to gain her their attention.

“What are you two talking about? Did something else happen?”

Arella only picked up the phone and handed it to him. What he saw was enough to pull a gasp from the demon. It made him sick.

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

As soon as it had begun, the torture was over. None of the three brothers had even broken a sweat at this point. The witches hadn’t even lasted that long. Blood and viscera coat the floor, bones stick out from odd places, one has pieces missing from her body here and there- bite marks and missing flesh, even a missing arm- all courtesy of the Avatar of Gluttony.

“Beel, are you hungry or has anger tided your hunger?”

“I'm famished,” The Avatar of Gluttony confirmed.

“Go ahead and dispose of their bodies then. Make sure no trace of them remains.” The Avatar of Pride nods to his younger brother.

It was then that they heard it- the screaming cry of a frightened baby. The sound was easy to miss over the shrieking and wailing- the pleas for mercy that would never come. One by one, their heads turned to the sound just upstairs as they all came to terms with the fact that a child had been born from this travesty.

Satan was the first to move as he climbed the stairs. Just off to the right was a tiny nursery and lying in the crib, he found the child. All of his instincts were screaming at him to do away with the infant. He almost did had it not been for Lucifer’s hand placed on his shoulder. They were soon joined by Beel as all three of them peered down at the tiny child below them.

“What do we do?” Beel asked.

“Do we take them with us? Or do we leave them to the proverbial wolves?”

Both brothers looked to the eldest, demanding an answer. For the first time, the Avatar of Pride doesn’t have the answer. Does he take the life of an innocent child or does he subject his brother to a lifetime of suffering? It's an impossible decision to make where either party ultimately loses in the end.

Lucifer reaches down and takes the infant into his arms, a pained look on his face as he scrutinizes the infant’s appearance. Suddenly, he’s flashing back to his time as an angel, back to the first time he ever held Mammon in his arms. The child is an exact carbon copy of their father, no apparent features from his mother or her sisters, this was the best case scenario, but the little one looks sickly- likely due to the lack of demonic influence that would have been received from their father had he been present during the pregnancy.

Finally, after remaining silent for what felt like eternity Lucifer spoke up. “The child doesn’t look long from this world. We’ll wait for morning. If they survive the night, we’ll take them with us- let Mammon decide what to do with them.”

The other two nodded as Beel went back downstairs to finish the meal he had started.

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

“You don’t have to take him, Mammon.” Asmo kept staring at the photo on his brother’s D.D.D. as he spoke.

“He has no one else, Asmo,” The white-haired demon frowns. “I can’t just leave him to die and it’s not like I can just give ‘im away either. As much as I hate it, he��s the heir to everything I am- the next Avatar of Greed, the next ruler of the fourth layer. It’ll be hard at first, but I’ll force myself to look past what happened to me. This isn’t his fault, so why punish him for the crimes of his mother and her sisters? He’s innocent in all this.”

“Even now,” the Avatar of Lust chuckled sadly, “after all these years, you still have the heart of an angel, don’t you? You aren’t thinking about what this will do to you, are you? He’ll be a constant reminder of your trauma. Is that really fair to you?”

“It isn't, but when has life ever been fair? If life was fair, we wouldn’t ’ve lost Lilith- wouldn't ‘ve fallen from the Celestial Realm.” He wiped at his eyes.

“No. It’s not, but I still think this is a bad idea for you. None of us will stop you if this is what you want to do but you shouldn’t do it just out a sense of obligation.” Asmo placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You should only keep him if you want to.”

At the look of resignation on Mammon’s face, Arella placed a hand on his back. “We’re here if you need us. If it gets to be too much, I can help care for him, okay?” She echoes the words she had said previously.

“Babe, you don’t-”

“I know I don’t, but I want to.” She smiled softly. “We’re in this together. All of us.” She looked to the strawberry blonde demon as he nodded in agreement.

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

Satan sat in the rocking chair next to the crib while Lucifer was on the phone notifying Diavolo of the situation as well as speaking to Arella in regards to the baby. He studied his nephew, wondering just what might happen to the little boy. Over the hours since finding him here, the tiny half-demon seemed to be getting stronger- likely from just being in the presence of his brothers and him. It was apparent that the child would be coming with them. He wondered what his brother’s reaction would be to the infant. Demons were known to kill unwanted offspring out of panic.

It was the circle of life, the blonde supposed. Not what the child deserved, but if it led to that, there was really nothing anyone could do. He was drawn from his thoughts as quiet chirps sounded from the boy. He watched as the infant brought his little hand to his mouth and he started squirming in the mass of blankets he was swaddled in.

The Avatar of Wrath looked around for a bottle or really anything that could be a source of nourishment. Of course, the newborn would get hungry eventually- that's essentially all babies at this age, eat and sleep. The demon finally finds a mini fridge on the wall opposite the crib, right next to the changing table. He had never fed a baby before but he would be willing to try as long as it kept the boy satisfied and kept him from crying. A trial by fire as they say.

Rocking the infant carefully, he slowly got up and retrieved a bottle from the fridge. It was a lot smaller than he thought an infant should take but it was good enough for the time being. Thankfully there was a bottle warmer placed on a nightstand near the crib. He placed it inside, setting the temperature at that of a human’s normal body temperature. When the milk was sufficiently heated, he gave it to the child who then suckled it down rather quickly,

“Hey now, there’s no need to suck it down so fast. You'll choke if you’re not careful.”

Lucifer had rejoined at him at this point. The scene of his brother trying so hard to feed the baby almost made him chuckle. “I can take him, if you’d like, Satan.”

“Please, I really don’t know how to do this.” He pulled the bottle away so he could transfer the child to his older brother.

“It won’t be long until the dawn. Gather up some of his things as we’ll be taking him with us. I just got off the phone with Arella. She told me Mammon plans on keeping the him.” Lucifer only sighed, wondering if the Avatar of Greed was only doing this out of a sense of obligation and responsibility.

Green to yellow gradient eyes widen in surprise at the statement. “He’s planning on keeping him? I figured he wouldn’t want anything to do with the baby.”

“As did I but, for all of our brother’s flaws, he’s still genuinely a good person. I don’t think he can really leave behind someone who needs him- especially an innocent child.” Lucifer looks down at the child who has now finished the bottle. “Hand me a rag.”

“Why?”

“Well, I would prefer not to be spat up on and now that he’s finished eating, he needs to be burped.” The eldest moved the infant to rest against his shoulder as Satan handed him the nearest rag he could find. “Babies aren’t capable of burping on their own. Now, go gather his things. I’ll tend to him for the time being."

Masterlist 2

#dead dove do not eat #tw: torture but not described #tw: victim blaming #lucifer and co commit murder #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #mammon angst #obey me oc #arella

107 notes · View notes

whisperlullaby · 3 years

Text

Just Say It And I’m Yours-Ch.1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Language, stalking ish themes

Words: 1490

Summary: Steve is considering retiring from being Captain America. He doesn’t remember why he took the shield or what it means for him anymore. Then he met you.

A/N: First and foremost I am SO SORRY FOR BEING SO SHIT AT SUMMARIES. I just don’t want to give anything away. Second, this is my first series! So like, comment, reblog, let me know you want to see more of this. This story is going to start in Steve’s perspective and switch to the readers. I’ll let you guys know when the POV is shifting so no worries. So, this first chapter is told through Steve. Third, if I missed any warnings please let me know. Last but most CERTAINTLY not least, a very VERY special thanks to @river-soul for reading through this and assuring me it was a good first chapter. I am so grateful for you. Let me know what you think! (Gif by @navybrat817 )

“Steve, she's getting married tomorrow,” Bucky solemnly states as he puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “If you’re going to do something you better do it soon.”

“I know Buck, but what could I say to her? I haven’t been able to tell her how I feel about her for years.” Steve looked out over the lake, his eyes pricking with tears. “She made her decision.”

“You’re an idiot. You’ve been in love with her since you first saw her. If you don’t tell her, she’s going to make the biggest mistake of her life. We both know that,” Bucky sighed, raking a hand over his face. “I know she loves you. You need to talk to her. She can’t marry him Steve, you know the second she does she’ll be gone forever. The person you knew reduced to, whatever this shell of a person is.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and looked down where the water was gently lapping against the shore. After a few moments, he heard Bucky make his way back to the lodge. As the small waves ebbed and flowed against the shallow shore Steve thought about you and how he was an absolute coward back when you were a big part of his life.

One and a half years ago

Steve was sketching at Marine Park in Brooklyn during golden hour when everything seemed to glow. He needed a break from his Captain America responsibilities and every time he put his charcoal to the paper everything seemed to melt away. The world was vastly different since he came out of the ice and he felt his heart swell thinking about all the fights he had to endure in order to restore some semblance of peace in the universe. He was happy that he had his best friend back, cleared of the mind control Hydra put in him and he made so many new friends and a family in The Avengers. Yet, as he drew out the skyline on the thick white paper, he couldn’t help but feel like he was still missing something. He knew he needed a break from his duties to figure it out constantly being pulled into a fight was a great distraction, but he knew he needed to figure out what brought meaning to his life. The decision to take time off gnawed at Steve like a dog to a bone, who was he if he wasn’t Captain America?

Steve heard you before he saw you, picking up the fierce tone you were using made him glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of your reprimand. Steve looked up to see you wedged in between a woman and her dog and a man probably twice your size towering over you, trying to be intimidating. The fact you stepped forward refusing to back down made Steve smile, oddly fond of your bravery. The commotion you were making drew a small crowd and Steve felt a strange pull to join the group to be close to you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Following this poor woman around like a stalker,” You yelled, poking your finger in his chest. “Did you think she was being coy when she told you to stop following her? Was that some deranged invitation to keep on top of her the rest of the world is unaware of?”

Steve could tell that you were not about to back down as you protected the other woman. The fire in your eyes was something Steve was familiar with in himself before he went into the ice. He noticed the man ball his hands into fists and before you could react he had pulled back to hit you. Steve jumped in and caught the punch, inches from your face.

“You’re gonna want to walk away pal before you make things worse for yourself.”

Steve’s voice was low in warning. When he glanced over at you, you looked up at him almost offended that he had stepped in. Before Steve could say anything you returned your gaze to the other man and swiftly kneed him in the balls.

“Stop following women you fucking asshole,” you admonished as the man crumpled to the ground in pain. “I know you probably have a hard time listening to women when they say no because there is just a bunch of empty space where your brain is supposed to be, but maybe take this as a warning.”

Steve watched you slack jawed as you flagged down a police officer to give a statement to. He observed you as you spoke with the other woman, who was visibly shaken by the incident, with such genuine concern and kindness. He couldn’t stop looking at you as you soothed her with gentle touches and quiet whispers. Steve waited for his turn to speak with the officers regarding the incident, after which the man was taken into custody. When Steve turned around you were walking towards him.

“Umm thanks for catching the punch,” you said with a shrug. “I could have taken him though.”

Steve let out a soft chuckle.

“Well I wouldn’t be much of a superhero if I stood around and let a civilian get clocked for defending someone.”

You cocked your eyebrow at him and crossed your arms.

“Yeah but you’re not in the suit, which means you’re off duty. Either way I’m grateful, I have a job interview tomorrow and can’t really show up with a black eye. It wouldn’t really say ‘hire me I’m even tempered and have a keen ability to moderate conflict in a calm respectful manner.’ ”

Steve smiled, letting out a sigh as he cast his eyes to the ground.

“Oh sweetheart I’m always on duty, comes with the territory.”

He looked up to see you watching him with kindness and understanding.

“I’m sure that must be a very heavy burden to carry,” You sighed. “I hope you can take a vacation or something soon. It looks like you might need one.”

To say Steve was enamored by you would be the understatement of the century. In the brief time he had spent with you, he had noticed that you were fierce, kind, honest, compassionate, and absolutely stunning. He found himself physically having to shake his head to keep from staring at you.

“I’m Steve,” he blurted out. “I feel like you already know that though. It was really nice of you to say that. Sometimes I only see myself as Captain America, no vacation days in sight.”

Steve chuckled as you rolled your eyes at him.

“Y/N, and I mean it. You shouldn’t feel like you’re always on duty.”

You pointed your finger at his chest.

“Besides, I’m a tough girl, I can handle myself. You should trust people a bit more Rogers.”

You gave Steve a cheeky grin and started walking away.

Steve scrambled to follow you, not ready to have your conversation end.

“So, job interview? What do you do?”

Steve easily kept your stride. When you chuckled Steve swore his heart skipped a beat.

“Would you believe I’m a victim advocate? I have an interview with the state prosecutor. I make sure anyone who has experienced trauma of any sort is represented and protected during court cases and criminal trials,” you stated proudly.

“After what I just witnessed, I would have been more surprised if you told me you were an accountant.” Steve joked. “Would it be okay if I walked you wherever you’re going? I know you can handle yourself but I’d like to make sure you don’t leave a trail of broken men in your wake.”

You snorted out laughter.

“Yeah wouldn’t want to get put away for attacking more skeezy men. That sounds great Captain, thank you.”

Steve smiled and kept asking you questions on your walk. He had this need to know everything he could about you since you blew into his life like a sunshower. When Steve got you back to your apartment the sun was just setting.

“Well Rogers, it’s been an interesting day,” you say, nonchalantly fiddling with your keys.

“I’ll say, I didn’t think my day would consist of watching someone stand up for another woman who almost got punched, then kneeing the guy in the balls.”

Steve smiled.

“I am pleasantly surprised with the way my day turned out,” he told you.

“Well there’s a lot more where that came from if you stick with me Cap.”

You smirked at Steve grabbing his sketchbook.

“Here’s my number, if you ever need a little extra adventure in your life, call me,” you said.

With that you turned the key in the lock and pushed yourself inside the apartment. Steve was left to stand staring at your closed door. He didn’t know what force drove you into his life but knowing you for those few hours made him feel more alive than he had in years.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #marvel fic #marvel #captain america x reader

394 notes · View notes