#like i need you to understand this man has the mental resolve of joy herself but you aren't ready for that talk

[fionnaskyborn]

current mood:

#it's about people who have gone through events that are uncannily similar but have dealt it both the events and the aftermath in #drastically different ways. one of them was surrounded by people who didn't look and sometimes didn't act the part but ultimately meant #only well and the other only had one person who cared about him near him and not even that person was in a good enough place to give him #that sort of empowerment‚ the strength to try and fight against impossible odds and an inescapable situation #and i've seen takes (don't remember where) that state that rai is ultimately so much stronger than v because he managed to free himself #from the shackles of his assigned fate whereas v 'failed' to do so but like... i believe that v is equally as strong for just... existing. #and maybe the world would've been better off if he had died as soon as he learned the truth but he lived because he wanted to see a better #world and believed that him being stripped of his identity was a small price to pay for a better world but what makes him even stronger in #my eyes is the fact that he KEPT LIVING even when he realized that there was no way to make things better from his position as much as he #wanted to and when he saw that everything was going to hell and that he was doomed to just... stay there and be trapped and be forced to #work for ideas that directly oppose his own #and DESPITE ALL OF IT‚ HE KEPT HIMSELF ALIVE (until nato called and said ''hey bibo if you don't respond to the allegations we will nuke #your house'' (referring to V's OH) and bibo just. did not answer. and threw v under the bus and let him die like he was nothing #like i need you to understand this man has the mental resolve of joy herself but you aren't ready for that talk #look point is i think that if they were to ever meet rai would initially not like v at all and couldn't exactly pinpoint why he doesn't #like him - he's polite‚ relatively kind‚ a bit sassy at times‚ and really quiet‚ which in a way mirrors his own mannerisms - so he has no #clue as to why he /doesn't like him at all/ (and of course rai being rai would be polite in turn but he'd never be earnestly amiable) #UNTIL one of them tries to start a conversation about more mundane topics like music or movies and as they exchange opinions rai realizes #that he really doesn't have to bother with the whole thing about resolve and determination to pursue your own goals and differences in #ideologies and that he can just talk to this guy as if he were one of his friends from nyc from back when life was relatively normal #(aka before big shell and when the memories of his past were artificially surpressed HMM PARALLELS YES) #in conclusion v is less anti-raiden and more the second coming of joy and also the two of them would (eventually) be friends and talk about #film and music. rai would absolutely DIG some of the 80's stuff v listens to. thank you for joining me on yet another episode of 'insanity #with fionna' #zeta gear tag #i wrote a lot here and i've made some good points so in the tag it goes

[leiawritesstories]

Burden

One of the first fics I ever wrote. Inspired by the Evanescence song “My Immortal.”

Nexta x Cassian, canonverse. Written waaaaaaay before ACOSF came along, so ignore canon divergence. 

TW: mentions of sexual assault

She is tired. Tired of the work, the long hours, the demanding pricks she must placate, the front she must show, tired of the façade she puts up, and so, so tired of locking away her heart. 

But locking away her heart is the only way to protect herself.

Never again can she let anyone, anyone, know the storm of emotion that rages within her soul. Never again can she allow herself to forge one-sided trust. Never again can she bare her inmost self, lest she be left cold, broken, and utterly alone. Never again can she watch the only person she thought  loved her dash her heart against the rocks of rejection. Never again. No one.

Not even him.

Him, the first male in this place to look at her like she was more than the silent, haughty, closed-off bitch the others considered her. Him, the only male to genuinely offer her what she needed during those horrible days after that bastard shoved her into his Cauldron-from-the- hells and cursed her with immortality: an outlet for her rage. Him, the male tied to her soul. Him, the male she cannot allow herself to love, no matter what her traitorous heart screams. 

Cassian.

The brash, cocky, fearless Illyrian. The only male in the world who sees her as she is and does not balk. The only person she knows who can face the raging inferno that is her and stand completely unfazed. 

Her mate.

A fact she must squelch. Never let it come to light. Never allow it to escape the steel cage around her volatile heart. 

No matter that every time her mate’s eyes fall upon hers, she reads his unspoken question.

Please. 

And no matter that every time she reads his heart written in his gaze, her own repressed heart leaps in response. Damn her heart for always feeling so deeply, so wholly. Damn her for not learning to rein in her emotions earlier. Damn her for turning into a pillar of steel, ice, and heartlessness when anyone so much as asks her a polite question. And damn her for being so godsdamn terrified of letting anyone even an infinitesimal step into her heart. 

Her warrior’s heart.

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

He watches her every moment she is present. And every moment, the pull on his soul grows stronger, ever stronger, drawing him towards the pillar of steel, flame, and unflinching willpower that is Nesta Archeron. He knows she feels the bond. He knows she refuses to let anyone know about the bond. He sees the faint flicker of fear in those glorious eyes of hers every time he speaks to her. A fear, not of him, but of what connects her soul to his. 

What horror happened to her to make her fear having a mate?

Not that he will ever know. But he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. How he longs for her to trust him, or if not him, then at least her sisters. He can sense that whatever she hides in her soul weighs heavily upon her, can see the burden she bears in the ramrod-straight line of her spine. And how he yearns to take some of that weight off of her shoulders. 

Every time he speaks to her, she pushes away his efforts to make her smile. He wonders if she has forgotten joy.

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

She has not.

She has merely forgotten that her life can be joyful. She cannot see past the string of terrible events that made up the last months of her human life. And she cannot bring herself to share the pain that shattered her heart mere months before life went straight to hell. 

Not with anyone.

No matter how much her brain, her heart, her soul push her towards spilling the entire story to her mate. Months in the Illyrian Mountains spent by his side, learning Illyrian combat tactics, dissolved the hatred she once felt for everyone in the Night Court, save her sisters. During those months, she discovered what lay under the Commander’s armor: his impossibly soft, warm heart. During those months, she came the closest she had ever come to revealing the scars that mottled her heart. He’d already seen the ones on her forearms, exposed during training; why, then, should she hide the mental ones, the emotional ones? 

Because he would never understand, she thinks to herself. 

“Nesta.”

She jumps, not realizing that while she was lost in her thoughts, he crossed over to her.

“What.” A statement, not a question. 

“I…” To her shock, he trails off, self-consciously twisting the Siphons on the back of his hands. 

“Bryaxis got your tongue?”

He jerks. A ghost of a smirk flits across her face. Which he notices. “By the Mother, Nesta Archeron. Did you just…joke?”

“Maybe.” That smirk returns.

He gazes at her, his eyes scanning her face as if trying to peer into her soul. “Why the long face?”

“Memories. From before. Most of them best forgotten.” Despite her iron resolve, a flicker of pain crosses her face. 

“Nesta, please.” The word emerges a broken plea. “Locking away whatever your terrors are will only make them worse. Please. Tell someone. It doesn’t have to be me. It—”

“What if you’re the only one who will actually listen?”

He freezes. “What?”

Her eyes, silver collecting in the corners, stare directly into his. “What if you’re the only one I trust to listen, fully and completely?”

Red light flares, and she finds herself—and Cassian—in his familiar wood-paneled cabin at the edge of the Illyrian woods. “Then speak.”

She does.

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

Not quite three months before Hybern kidnapped her and Elain, Nesta met a young man, new to the village. His parents were merchants, he said, and he had come to start a shop in an area where their commerce did not yet reach. He was passably handsome, and a sweeter talker than all the lecherous bastards in town. He also “happened to be around” whenever Nesta ventured into town. After his appearances became too frequent to be “chance,” Nesta allowed him to flirt with her, and despite her better sense, allowed herself to flirt back. Allowed herself to share her secrets, her hopes, her dreams.

A month after meeting him, he finally asked her to dinner, and she accepted. He came to her house that evening and charmed the hell out of her father, acting the perfect gentleman, even asking his assistance as a bookkeeper, considering his knowledge and experience as a trader. It was a pleasant enough dinner and conversation, a pleasant enough evening.

Until he escorted her home.

Or, more accurately, he escorted her into a secluded alley and pressed her against the wall. And clamped one greasy hand over her mouth. And ripped her skirt straight down the seam. Frozen with shock, all Nesta registered was his heavy breath, reeking of alcohol, and the lust-crazed sheen of his eyes. For one interminable moment, she could neither move nor think beyond the nasty, oily feeling of his other hand crawling up her thigh. 

The moment passed. Nesta bit down on his hand as hard as she could, earning a strangled grunt as he jerked back. Before he could manhandle her again, she drove her elbow into his ribs once, twice, thrice, and was rewarded with a satisfying crack and him doubling over. Then, she turned and fled into the night. 

She reached home in moments, burst through the side door, and barred it. Elain, who had come into the kitchen for some reason, gasped. 

“Nesta! Your dress! What happened?”

Nesta could only shake her head, the horror of the encounter crashing into her full force. Elain, seeing her sister’s obvious state of shock, helped her upstairs, into a bath, and into bed. When Nesta appeared the next day, bruising on her face from where she had been gripped, her sister again asked about the night before. Nesta refused to answer. She spent years stuffing the memory of that night as far back into her memory as she could. 

But the effects lasted. To this day, she fears opening her heart to any man, no matter how good, how sweet, how outwardly perfect he may seem. The scars from nearly being forcibly raped linger. And despite the years between then and now, there is simply too much that time cannot erase. Some scars run too deep. 

His name was Tomas Mandray.

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

In the silence following her story, Nesta realizes that she has slumped onto the worn wooden floor, unable to support herself against the flood of her memory. She realizes that the warmth on her face is her tears, falling freely. 

And that the one thing keeping her tethered to the earth is Cassian’s hand around hers. 

She lifts her head, drawing in a shaky breath, her heart…lighter. 

Ever so hesitantly, his thumb brushes her cheek, wiping away the tears tracked there. He feels her tense, and then, incredibly, she relaxes, allowing him to brush the tears from her face as if he could erase the pain she feels. 

Deep in a buried corner of her mind, a thread of golden light pierces the shadows. 

Thank you, Cassian.

Always, my Nesta.

#my writing #leia writes #nessian #nesta #cassian

[cassyapper]

Apart from Jotaro and Kakyoin (unfortunately) what are your other favourite jojo ships? I’d love to know

OHHHH POST YOUVE OPENED A CAN OF FUCKING WORMS LET ME GO OFF

i have a disease that makes me invested in the joestars’ happiness to an absurd level so bc of that a lot of ships i enjoy involve,,,one joestar,,,but there r others i swear let me just start rantingi

jonaeriwagon is soooooo so so cute it involves the most wholesome and purehearted jojo characters and it makes me smile so wide. erina and jonathan r childhood sweethearts and erina helped jonathan back on his feet after he lost EVERYTHING in the first fight against dio at the mansion. jonathan and speedwagon are best FRIENDS OKAY!! SPEEDWAGON LITERALLY CHANGES HIS ENTIRE WALK OF LIFE BECAUSE OF JONATHAN AND THE KINDNESS HE SHOWED HIM. i know erina and speedwagon didn't interact a whole lot in part 1 but like they're BEST. FRIENDS. in part 2, so much so joseph thought something was going on between them. i bring this up bc then it’s proof that this ship is full of ppl who just care for each other so much. they just adore each other and love each other and I'm crying

caejoseq is my FAVVV OKAY they're so stupid and in love. i love love love love imagining caesar and suziq falling in love slowly when he’s first training as lisalisa’s student and like they never do anything about it cause they're both so shy (yes caesar is shy bc these feelings r more genuine romance rather than sexual, unlike his other flings) but it’s obvious enough they both understand to a degree the other knows they like them sjkd;dn cuties. but then JOSEPH BARGES IN with his stupid hamon-breathing mask and his stupid blue-green eyes and his stupid lax personality combined with the moments he takes thing seriously during which is works hard as fuck/smart as fuck. he just completely sweeps them off their feet they had no fuckin warning whatsoever. so after a bunch of messy and intense pining from the both of them they eventually sit down and are like okay. we should do smth about feelings actually. so they Do and it ends with the polycule and I'm (”: smiling so wide they loved each other do u understand

AVPOL!! DO NOT GET ME STARTED OKAY it’s the survivor’s guilt and cherishing and longing for me sis!!!!!! I'm just saying both have pasts (araki said avdol’s backstory was so sad he didn't wanna put it into sdc so that’s where I'm drawing this from) that leave them focused on things other than their direct happiness/their own futures but then they connect and even though they're so fucking different they are SOOO different they're still the same on this level and i think!!! that would be everything for them finally someone who understands...listen I'm ging to go insane do you hear me. avdol loves this stupid fucking Frenchman so much because said stupid fucking Frenchman just cares so much about everything. meanwhile polnareff is in love with this fuckin god of a man who’s patient and kind and funny and a skilled enough fighter it’s stated explicitly in canon “oh avdol’s the one we need to worry about most not jotaro” like fuck polnareff is ENAMOURED WITH HIM!! AND I DONT FUCKING BLAME HIM!! and just dude. when pol thinks avdol came back to life and he starts crying tears of joy and hugs him so tightly and avdol just laughs but hugs him back imfmfjfj help. help. help. help. help. POLNAREFF LITERALLY ASKS HIM OUT ON A DATE THIS IS FUCKIN!!! CANON!!! i cant do this stupid fuckign idiots i love them

JOSUYASU!!!!!! TWO GUYS BEIGN DUDES WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT??? like listen we have such a SLEW of wholesome moments between these two the opening to the tonio episode is literally just them going on a date OKUYASU WAS GONNA FEED JOSUKE AND JOSUKE DIDNT EVEN FUCKING QUESTION IT OKAY THAT’S KINDA GAY THAT HAS ROMANTIC FUCKING UNDERTONES!! and them fighting against shigechi idk man i just love their dynamic it’s such a pleasant bro relationship and i love them. but even beyond the wholesome moments when okuyasu fucking dies josuke loses his SHIT!!! DO YOU HEAR ME HE GOES FUCKIGN INSANE!!!!! HE’S SCREAMING AND CRYING AND BEGGING OKUYASU TO WAKE UP AT THE EXPENSE OF HIS LIFE FUCKIGN HAYATO HAD TO SHRIEK AT HIM TO MOVE HIS ASS OUT OF THE WAY OF KIRA’S BOMB LIKE!! listen the recklessness and furiousness of josuke’s tactics after okuyasu “”died”” haunts me. he didn't want to live in a world without him and meanwhile okuyaus LITERALLY TRIUMPHS OVER DEATH BECAUSE HE DOESNT WANT TO LEAVE JOSUKE’S SIDE HELP ME GIRL FJKF;NDJN FUCK. fuck. so yeah i lvoe them

fugionara... any combination of this ship makes me go nuts okay okay. the dynamics in the bucci gang will forever leave me in tatters but THE ONES BETWEEN THESE THREE IN PARTICULAR. FUCK ME UP. it’s the healing it’s the animosity it’s the regret it’s the trying to figure out your own mentally ill self while also the world ur in with these ppl u love so much and I'm going crazy okay okay okay. idk how to quite put my feelings for them in worlds i just have a lot of them and they are fuckin. overhwelming. just narancia for example meant EVERYTHING to fugo as evidence by purple haze feedback (literally every other paragraph is a flashback) and the only time giorno cries in the anime is when narancia dies. meanwhile fugo saved narancia’s life and giorno knew when to take narancia seriously as opposed to a joke. and then THE WHOLE DISCUSSION ABOUT GRIEF FUGO AND GIORNO HAVE IN PURPLE HAZE FEEDBACK? listen something about these three make me go insane and feral

foolymes like okay. okay. I'm shaking like a dog trying not to go overboard on this justification just listen to me. hermes and jolyne first find someone to trust in prison in each other. jolyne cares abt her enough that she first learns how to use stone free’s string-on-a-telephone ability bc she wanted to watch over hermes. hermes loves nd respects jolyne that after she wakes up from getting a stand shes like “hm. wonder where jolyne is” and goes to find her before all that bullshit happened just hey okay LISTEN TO ME!! and then they get foo they save her it’s just like fucking kakyoin they give her another chance and they show her what relationships are supposed to be like (fulfilling) they enjoy her company and make her laugh and she makes them laugh in return ohmy god EVERYTHING FOO FIGHTERS DID WAS FOR JOLYNE AND HERMES DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!!! the marilyn mansion debt collector arc. the kiss of love and revenge arc. foo fighter’s death. I'm going to eat rocks in an attempt to stop feeling oh my god JOLYNE DIDNT EVEN BELEIVE FOO FIGHTERS WAS DYING AND THEN SHE GOT HYSTERICAL LIKE “BUT WE CAN JUST REMAKE YOU RIGHT WE HAVE YOUR STAND DISC??” SHE DOESNT WANT HER TO GOOO HELP ME HELP ME. I'm in tatters these three girls loved each other so fucking much they just wanted each other safe and they DESERVED to be safe and happy together but araki is fucking evil

jotaweather I KNOW THIS IS A CRACK SHIP I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW DONT FUCKIGN LOOK AT ME JUST HEAR ME OUT. jotaro and weather r both of similar demeanor that is quiet soft-speaking intimidating strong big aura of sadness coming from them. both have powerful stands and both had real fucked up luck in the love department. i also hc both to be autistic so that’d be another similarity. i jus think them settling down together after everything went down in a stone ocean au would be very soft and sweet yknow? they wouldn't even necessarily start it off in a romantic sense but they just take the time to try and heal with each other and eventually it just kinda veers that way. yeah

gyjo for OBVIOUS reasons like are you serious? gyro changed johnny’s fucking lfie from the SECOND they first interact johnny begins to push himself and tries to reach further/go further. and in turn johnny shows gyro you cant always be a wet blanket you need to take a stand this both helps his resolve to save the kid AND helps him to take the measures necessary to get to his goal. like gyro would not have been able to find johnny in the “who shot johnny joestar?” arc if he hadn't gone through, say, the ring roadagain arc with johnny first. listen man their relationship is literally the catalyst for this whole part it’s the driving force i just. they love each other they love each other thank you goodnight I'm emo

yasugap is just so so so so sweet it makes me so happy,,like okay josuk8 literally has a daydream where all that happens is he gives yasuho some candy and she eats it and is like “aw josuke this is so good thanks!” and she smiles at him and that’s IT THAT’S THE DAYDREAM 😭 listen they just love each other so much and i am emo. they literally SAVED EACH OTHER OKAY LIKE yasuho pulls him from the dirt and like she mentioned during the flashback chapter with the hairpin and her dad, it was also the other way around....saving josuke also saved herself and just LISTEN TO ME. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. it’s a very sweet and healthy relationship and i hope to god araki makes it canon please sir ill bite you

anyway yeah these are the main main ones ? that i ship ship. like you'll get me excited if u mention them. anyway this post has gone on long enough so I'm gonna end it here by saying i really do have a thing where the relationship focuses on healing/helping one or both parties to save/improve themselves

#THIS IS SO MESSY IM SORRY I DIDNT PROOFREAD ANYTHING #uhm but yeah these guys. drive me nuts! #jjba #jojo spoilers #nothing too heavy but just in case #cass cries #iwannagrill

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

There’s a Reason It’s Called Liquid Courage

Bull Randleman x Reader

Summary: After a night of (responsible) drinking, Bull decides to let you know just how seriously he takes your budding relationship.

(it’s literally a blurb and a half, sorry fam)

“I told you I didn’t drink, stop laughing at me!”

y/n felt her frown deepen as Denver “It’s Basically Water'' Randleman clutched at his stomach in what a casual observer might describe as a bout of laughter. 

But for anyone who knew him, he was in stitches. In fact, Y/N wasn't sure she’d ever seen him like this. 

And she would’ve savored the opportunity to witness it, if it had been at the expense of anyone other than herself.

“There’s a difference between ‘I don't drink’ and ‘if alcohol so much as touches my tongue I’m going to spit it out into Lewis Nixon’s face’—”

“—I didn’t know he’d taken the liberty of spiking my tea, it’s a natural reaction!”

But it was no use, Bull had already lost himself into another fit of bellowing laughter. This time, she didn't have the heart to glare at him, instead finding herself smiling at the rare moment of open joy from the most reckless man she’d ever met.

There’d been plenty of reasons to smile today: no one had died, no cars had massive mechanical issues, and most importantly- she’d been given a chance to use the shower in the home they’d assigned to her. 

Her hair didn't seem to be getting thinner anymore and she certainly noticed less hair falling out when she finger combed it, but she still hadn’t menstruated. 

While being closer to towns meant that she had access to food more steadily than any of the frontline men, she still had dropped a significant amount of weight.

She doubted that was helping matters in the lack of period department.

Her mother had told her about what stress could do to a body, but even then Y/N felt like the woman had withheld the more graphic details. If only I could ask her, Y/N thought ruefully. See if what’s happening to me is normal or not. if I will be okay…

Eventually, Bull had stopped laughing, and they had fallen into their usual comfortable silence. He'd smoked two cigarettes before he spoke again, and when he did his voice was quiet.

“I’d like to talk to you about something.”

turning to face him a bit more, she only hesitated for a moment before nodding. He watched her with careful eyes, and a bit of anxiety dripped into her stomach.

He cleared his throat a couple of times before looking out over her shoulder, and working his jaw. “I was wondering if you'd be willing to help me with some paperwork later.”

That threw her for a loop. She squinted, tilting her head to the side.

“You want...help with paperwork?”

“Yeah.”

“My help?”

“Yes.”

“Is it...mechanical paperwork?”

he sighed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “No, what? No. It’s social security stuff.”

“Oh, huh…” she trails off, growing more confused than ever. A stray thought catches her attention, and for a moment her heart flutters nervously. “Do you want me to not look at you?”

(It was a system the two of them had come up with back in Toccoa, when she’d had to give him the bad news that his letters had been confiscated and destroyed after Sobel dubbed them as contraband. Y/N had been anxious, not wanting to see the hurt and disappointment mar his handsome face. He’d initially offered to look away from her as a joke, yet it had soon lost any of its humor as time went on.)

He nods, looking down like he’s ashamed that he can’t just say whatever it is he’s trying to say.

“Alright,” she says, turning on her bottom so he can only see her profile. Staring at the wall in front of her, she sighs and waits for him to talk.

“I need to change the name of the person who gets my pension, if anything happens.”

Oh, she thought, trying to keep her face from showing her surprise. She hadn’t expected that. they’d never talked about that sort of thing.

She hums a sound for him to go on, mentally trying to figure out where he was going with this request.

“I want you to get it, or at least some of it.”

What.

“What?” she gasped, whipping her head to look at him.

“Hey.” he snapped in return, narrowing his eyes and pointing in the direction she’d been looking in. “Eyes that way, woman!”

With a quick glare, she turns back to look away, choosing her next words carefully. “Why?”

“Why? Why what?”

Y/N doesn't bother to hide her eye roll, taking an exasperated deep breath and working to keep her voice from going pitchy. “Jesus, Den! How about; why me, huh? Why not Luz or charity or some nurse called Dottie you met before you shipped out? And why now? Nothing’s happened, right? So, why would you even be thinking of something like that?”

“In order?” he asks snarkily, and from the corner of her eyes she sees him lift up his hands to count off her questions. “Because I want to, because Luz would spend it on something stupid with Perco, and I don't know any nurses named Dottie- and even if I did I wouldn't pick her anyways. And…” he hesitates, and it’s a few moments before he speaks again. 

When he does, his voice is so low she feels it more than hears it. 

“And it’s because nothing has happened lately that I’m thinking about this, Y/N.”

Oof. Leave it to Bull to save up all his pretty words for her and then dump them on her all at once. He couldn’t just hold her hand or make up excuses to see her, he had to go and bring legal documents into the equation- as well as making her feel all soft and mushy for him.

She looks down at her hands, and within seconds Bull takes her hands in his and scoots over so she can see him. When she looks at him again she can’t help the sad smile that crosses her face.

“You’re probably never going to tell me why you picked me, are you Mr. Randleman?”

Her voice is sad, but she knows he understands why. 

He knows they aren’t just talking about the life insurance change.

Pressing a kiss on her interwoven fingers, he holds her gaze with steadfast resolve.

“Probably not, no. You’re right.”

She let it hang there, waiting to see how it felt to hear him admit that much. Well, if he was willing to risk her rejecting him, the least she could do was reward his courage. 

As quickly as she could she brought her hands up to hold his face while she ducked a quick kiss on his lips, her heart skipping a beat at the sound of surprise coming from in the back of his throat.

As she pulled away she stood up, smiling down at his reddening cheeks and wide eyes. 

What was that for? he seemed to ask, clearly having not expected her to have that response to his confirmation.

She shrugged, rolling her shoulders and adapting a pensive look. 

“I suppose I find honesty more attractive than I thought.”

With a softer smile, she studies him one final time before turning and heading for the door.

“I didn’t ‘pick you’, you know.” He calls, and she stops with her hand on the doorknob. “it wasn’t...it’s not like that.”

She looks over her shoulder at him, a warm feeling coming over her as he eyed her softly.

“Then what is it like?”

“It just is,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Grinning stupidly, she has the decency to blush and look away. Smooth son of a bitch.

“Good night, Bull Randleman”

“Good night, Y/F/N.”

With a good-natured huff, she shakes her head and opens the door, letting the warm air of the house swallow her in darkness.

(TWO IN ONE NIGHT? WHO AM I?)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany​

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #bull randleman x reader

[labyrinth-runner]

This Isn’t Love

I basically took the Mustafar scene to the end of Revenge of the Sith from Padmé’s POV

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: Well. If you’ve seen RotS then you know what's coming.

Her heart was thudding in her chest with anxiety. What Obi-Wan had said couldn’t be true. He would never have done that. Not her Anakin. Not her sweet, loving Anakin who’s love was the only thing that kept her warm at night in a cold galaxy that set her stomach in knots of dread. But... Obi-Wan wasn’t a liar. Obi-Wan was the only Jedi she trusted. Yet, her heart and her hope were telling her two different things as she piloted her cruiser towards Mustafar. She didn’t know which emotion to give into, so instead she just cried, resting her head on her hands. This day had not gone as planned. This wasn’t the life she wanted for her children.

The red ball of fire came into view and she took the ship down for a landing. She saw a figure standing there, a shadow amongst the bright backdrop. Rushing down the ramp to the hot planet below, she saw that the shadowy specter was her husband. 

“Padmé, I saw your ship-” Anakin started to say when she crashed into his arms. 

“Oh, Anakin,” she murmured. She needed reassurance. She needed him to tell her it wasn’t true. If he did, then they could go back to being a happy family. She could return to being his happy wife.

“It’s alright, you’re safe now,” he murmured, “What are you doing out here?”

What was she doing out here? She trusted her husband. A man who held her like this surely couldn’t have done anything like what Obi-Wan had told her. “I was so worried about you,” she said quickly, “Obi-Wan told me terrible things.”

“What things?” Anakin asked cautiously.

Padmé swallowed the lump in her throat, “He said that you had turned to the dark side.” She trailed off before adding the impossible truth, “That you had killed younglings.”

The father of her child could never do that. 

“Obi-Wan is trying to turn you against me,” Anakin seethed.

Padmé blinked. That wasn’t a denial. That wasn’t reassurance. That was a ‘it’s me against him’ mentality. That didn’t make sense. Not when Obi-Wan had been his best friend and a friend to her for so many years. Surely Anakin knew that wasn’t true. “He cares about us.”

“Us?” Anakin asked incredulously.

 Padmé blushed, “He knows.” She looked into his eyes. They were such a strange color. Not the familiar blue that she was used to drowning in. “He wants to help you.”

 Anakin shook his head, “Is Obi-Wan going to protect you? He can't ... he can't help you. He's not strong enough. “

That dream again. She wished he didn’t put so much stock in it. It wasn’t what really mattered, “Anakin, all I want is your love.”

“Love won't save you, Padmé. Only my new powers can do that,” Anakin said like it was obvious.

He needed to see reason. She had to make him see reason. “At what cost? You are a good person. Don't do this,” she pleaded. 

“I won't lose you the way I lost my mother! I've become more powerful than any Jedi has ever dreamed of and I've done it for you. To protect you,” he said emphatically.

Padmé took his hands in hers to plead her case. If he loved her, truly, then he would listen. She took a deep breath, searching his eyes for some flicker of familiarity. A drop of rain that could douse the inferno. “Come away with me. Help me raise our child. Leave everything else behind while we still can.”

Anakin grinned, “Don't you see? We don't have to run away anymore. I have brought peace to the Republic. I am more powerful than the Chancellor. I can overthrow him, and together you and I can rule the galaxy. Make things the way we want them to be.”

A feeling of dread made her blood turn cold. All these years since she’d fallen in love with Anakin on Naboo, she had been waiting for that other shoe to drop. She knew their love would be difficult, but she had never expected this. A man who thought like this... with ambitions like these... was dangerous. She thought she knew him, but how could she know someone like this? The man before him was not the man she thought she married. It felt like a rug was ripped out from beneath her.

“I don't believe what I'm hearing,” she said, shaking her head, “Obi-Wan was right. You've changed.”

“I don't want to hear any more about Obi-Wan,” he said dismissively, “The Jedi turned against me. Don't you turn against me.”

Turn against him? How could he say that? It was he who had turned against her, against democracy and the Republic. Against reason. Against morality. “I don't know you anymore. Anakin, you're breaking my heart. I'll never stop loving you-” Or the man I thought you were, she wanted to add- “but you are going down a path I can't follow,” she said with tears in her eyes. 

“Because of Obi-Wan?” he asked.

She wanted to laugh. How could he still think that it was about Obi-Wan? After all he had done, how could the deciding factor in this be another man and not his own actions? “Because of what you've done,” she sighed in frustration, “what you plan to do.” 

She couldn’t just give up, could she? That would mean throwing away years of a relationship without a fight, and if Padmé was anything, it was a fighter. She tried to plead with him once more, “Stop. Stop now. Come back!" she begged. Softly, she murmured, “I love you.”

At one time, that would have been enough.

“Liar!” Anakin yelled.

Padmé turned to see Obi-Wan stepping out of her ship. With horror, she realized what would happen next. She knew the man behind her, and she knew what he was capable of and what he stood for. 

“No!” she yelled, as much for her husband to understand that this wasn’t what she wanted as well as to stop the Jedi Master walking towards them.

Anakin’s face twisted into one of hurt and betrayal, mirroring her own, no doubt. “You're with him. You've betrayed me! You brought him here to kill me!”

“No!” she said emphatically, “Anakin, I didn’t! I swear-” her eyes burned with tears as she felt her air supply be cut off. She clawed for her throat to relieve the pressure that wasn’t physically there, trying in vain to alleviate her suffering. Her vision started to fade like she was drowning in the dark depths of the ocean. The world was dark and a coldness seeped in as she faintly heard Obi-Wan yelling for her husband to let her go, to stop hurting her.

Isn’t it funny? Having to ask someone who loves you to stop causing you pain. In the back of her mind, she registered how ridiculous that was. If love was true, that wouldn’t be something that would ever have to be asked. No, she thought sadly, Begged.

A faint hand touched her with kindness as the reality of her situation came crashing down around her. The man she loved was gone. Memories flashed through her mind. Her and Anakin in the meadow on Naboo. The two of them bonding on Tatooine as he started to let her in. The fear of almost losing him on Geonosis. Their wedding, holding his hand by the lake and knowing they would build a new future together, and feeling like all her dreams were coming true. The fear of being pregnant, but the joy at how happy they were about it. The love she had was endless. She thought it was enough to sustain them across the stars. But it wasn’t. She should have known it would never been enough. The Order hadn’t been enough. Why would she be? Not for Anakin. 

She remembered every time he came back to Coruscant. All those times she’d reassured him that they’d be okay. She had failed, unable to break through the walls he had put up around his furnace heart. The walls kept the flame lit, but did little for their relationship. People who loved each other didn’t keep secrets from each other. People who loved each other didn’t hide their thoughts and feelings. People who loved each other could trust each other.

Padmé felt like she was sinking, suspended in an ocean of her tears. How could someone who said he loved her hurt her like this? This isn’t love, she realized with a trembling lip.

Had it ever been?

Love was supposed to bring out the best in both people. Being with Anakin hadn’t done that. She had changed who she was for Anakin. With a swallow, she realized she’d sacrificed her good judgment and level head just to be with him, breaking the standards she held for herself, in spite of herself. Gently, she crossed her hands over her belly, wanting the comfort of the life inside her, the harsh reminder of all she had just lost, of the dream that came to an end.

A sad smile flitted across her face as she thought on the last few nights on Coruscant. He had been there, but not really, always darting off here and there without real explanation. Loneliness wasn’t new to her, having become accustomed to it during the war, but she had felt lonely when he was home. He was there, but he wasn’t her’s when he was, regardless of what he told her. 

She thought of his nightmares, feeling tears slip down her cheeks. “I couldn’t reach you.”

Folding in on herself, she started to sob. Watching how he defended Palpatine in spite of all the evidence against him, watching how he had turned against her, the one he promised to always love, for the sake of Palpatine... She knew she could never have told him about the group she had formed with Bail. She had distanced herself from him, withdrawing without even realizing it. Had this been her fault? She had reached out to Obi-Wan because she thought he could make a difference where she hadn’t. It had all been futile, hadn’t it? 

Love was supposed to be powerful, but in the end it wasn’t. Because this isn’t love, she sniffed as she straightened, how could a great love be built on so many lies and secrets? I was right. It would destroy us, and it did. The light above the surface was streaming down on her face. She started to kick towards it, propelling herself forward with tired resolve. 

She had been cold to him in the end, telling him she wouldn’t follow him, but it was the right thing to do. She knew that in her bones, because before she had been a Skywalker, she had been Amidala. Regardless of her marital status, she was, and would still always be Padmé Amidala.

Padmé Amidala was a fierce champion of others. She was a Senator, a former Queen, and a soon-to-be mother. Any power she ever sought was for the sake of love. Love for her people, love for the galaxy and democracy. It was that love for her people that made it impossible for her to follow her husband. It was that love for her people that was well known, which made the fact that he would even ask her to turn her back on them sting all the more. 

Someone who loved her would never ask her to do that.

He said this was all for her, but she wasn’t the one grabbing for power. He was. This wasn’t done out of love. It was done out of jealousy and greed, and he was too blind to even realize it. Padmé shut her eyes tight as she was about to break through the surface. Was love even real?

Padmé opened her eyes to gaze upon Obi-Wan Kenobi. In his arms were two precious bundles that she had named. They were hers. They were his. She swallowed. Could she even do this without Anakin? Would they even be safe with her? Or would they be better off without her? There were so many questions that she didn’t have the answer to, and she probably never would. Her head was spinning and her focus was gone.

She was so incredibly tired. Every breath was difficult. Her heart felt tight with the knowledge that everything she’d stood for was gone. Everything she dreamed was gone. Her hope was slowly fading. Although those two children were beautiful, they were also reminders that hurt so much to look at. 

Obi-Wan was pleading with her, but she barely heard him, eyes trailing him slowly. Yes, he will take care of them for me. She trusted him. With her life, and with theirs. Her eyes fluttered closed as she only felt her heartbeat resonating in her chest.

Good god, I’m done, she thought weakly. 

She thought of amber-eyed Anakin on Mustafar.

Her heart clenched in her chest.

Love wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Padmé’s breathing slowed to almost a halt.

How can you call this love when it hurts so much? she thought sadly.

She exhaled for the last time.

A small, quiet voice whispered, “This isn’t love.”

#padmé amidala #padme amidala #padmé naberrie #star wars #star wars prequels #revenge of the sith #rots #anakin skywalker #anidala? #obi-wan kenobi

[solarflareanon]

I have... Thoughts i wish to pour from my head

I fucking love digimon adventures. the first two seasons of digimon. I was reminded of this fact when I heard a snippet of “kids of america” or whatever that song is called and was catapulted back in time to when my siblings and I recorded the dubbed digimon movie on VHS when it aired during the saturday morning time slot reserved for such shows as Pokemon, Cardcaptor, and other anime deemed appropriate for children.

Now. My hyperfixations come and go with the seasons of my life and sometimes the conditions are right that I revisit an old fixation. 

Such has happened in the past with digimon.

Numerous times in the past I have watched specifically the dub of the digimon movie because that brings me a reliable dose of joy to my life. An unspecified long ago I rewatched just the first season of digimon adventures, that being the one i remembered the best and have the most fondness for. Not terribly long ago, although longer than it likely feels, I rewatched the entirety of the first and second seasons of Digimon Adventures and Digimon Tamers for good measure because that season is several flavors of fucked up.

At this point ya’ll are probably going, “wtf do we care about your enduring love of the show digimon?” to which I say this: I have been granted many hours of the day to think about Things and in those hours after reliving my favorite memories of digimon I have formed Some Opinions on how the second season of Adventures could have been better.

Lemme say one last thing before going further, I love the second season of digimon adventures and it has some of my favorite episodes and characters and did a really good time skip, which is why it haunts me so. Also I’ll be using the dub names of the characters because i always watched the dub and that’s what i’m used to. Also Also, it’s been a hot second since I’ve watched the show so this is all based on my memories of what stood out to me from the show.

SO

Biggest thing i wish were different is Who Got Which Egg.

First off the Love Egg? Give that thing to Cody not Yolei! Cody didn’t get as much development as the other characters in my opinion. It seemed like the show was trying to make him a more sensitive Izzy clone, which in my opinion didn’t really work out. A much stronger part of his character was his connection to his family! Multiple times he was shown going to his grandpa for advice and he was shown really cherish that bond. It would have been a great to see that explored more and have that facet of his character shine through in his interactions with the other digidestined as he begins to consider them his family too. They could have had conflict where he realizes that with how tanky his partner digimon is, he might have a responsibility to protect his new family but at the same time doesn’t want his partner to keep getting hurt! I dunno man, but this child is full of love and kindness and I wish the anime had given him the corresponding eggs.

Meanwhile Yolei? Ya’ll guessed it! I’ve been saying it since i first rewatched the show! Give Yolei The Knowledge Egg! She is Brash. She is Curious. She is full of Fire not Love! If the anime had gone down the route of “Oh, she needs to learn to be more Loving(????)” I might have let it slide but No! She mentions having a crush on Popular Kid Ken a few times early on, then it’s dropped! Ya’ll remember that one time Kari was having a panic attack about the dark ocean or whatevs? Yolei slapped the shit outta her to get her to snap out of it! Again, if it was made more clear that came from a place of love and concern and not a “pull yourself together” moment, I’d let it pass. But the Knowledge Egg? That shit’s obvious. She’s literally the techie of the group, connects with Izzy, sticks her nose in everything and the Wings of Knowledge sounds cooler than the drill of knowledge. Sincerity egg is great tho, eggcellent choice.

BiG change comin through! Defo give the Courage egg to Davis, he’s got hot-blooded protagonist juice comin’ out of his ears. But also, give him the Hope egg instead of the Loyalty egg. 

Now Hear Me Out! Think of the character possibilities! Despite his annoyingness, Davis has been shown again and again uplifting other’s spirits, from his friends, to freshly-humbled Ken, to a literal army of digidestined in the finale. A big part of why they won in the finale is because he literally had hope for the future! It could have been a great way to develop him as the leader of the group since that seems to be the role the show was pushing for him anyways.

And tying closely to the above are the egg choices i’d make for my two favorite characters. Kari still should get the Light Egg, but I think it’d be so juicy if TK got the Loyalty egg.

My thoughts on this are that we’ve seen that these two clearly have some baggage from the first time they were in the digital world. TK straight up has ptsd over the time patamon was Murdered In Front Of Him As a Child and Kari’s got some shit goin on with the dark Ocean that is Never Resolved. Wouldn’t it be just so fuckin’ crazy if the show was just like, yeah TK’s having a hard time mustering up any hope for the future right now and just, gave him an arc that was him working through his mental illnesses. There could be these scene’s where Kari’s like “you alright?” and he’s like “apparently not?” and then it’d be so emotional when he gets patamon to digivolve to ultimate using the crest of hope! There’s so much potiential!

But then Kari still gets the Light egg because that’s less a virtue and more just a characteristic that she emits. And because she still get’s her expected egg it takes longer for people to see that oh yeah, Kari’s got lingering trauma too. Then that could be tied into and represented by the dark ocean subplot as it eventually becomes too big of a problem to ignore anymore. Which would be a running theme with Kari from way back in the first season where she keeps putting other’s before herself to the detriment of her own health. Tying in with TK getting the Loyal egg, there’s an episode where he’s the only one who notices Kari’s literally glitching out of reality and is the one who follows her to the dark ocean to try and get her back. It’s already choice, but what if more of that? What if better Yolei and Kari bonding too? (I’m not gonna lie ya’ll it’s getting late and i’m wrapping it up) Like, Yolei is shown to not bottle things up and I feel like being the smartest in the group she could help understand wtf the dark ocean is and would be the most likely to go “bitch! let’s get you some therapy!” and just not give her the chance to keep saying “Im fine.” And that’s a dynamic i wish had been explored more rather than just slapping the two girls together.

That all might be a bit much to ask of a children’s anime. But what’s not too much is how giving him the Loyalty egg would contrast and parallel him to his own brother Matt! Think about it! Later in the season when they get the ability to dna digivolve he and Cody are paired up mostly because they’re the spares; but by by drawing these parallels between Matt and TK across the seasons, it would give him a reason to bond with Cody who is only a little bit older than TK was when he first went to the digimon world. There could be this element of big brother protectiveness and mentorship that would lead him to understanding what his own brother went through mixed with memories of what it was like from the other side and I just think it would make their dynamic more interesting.

*deep inhale*

That’s it for now, my head it 39% emptier and I am tired.

tl:dr I think Digimon Adventure 02 could have had more interesting character arcs and dynamics if they had shuffled who had which digi eggs.

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #rantings #in a loving way #I just wanted to get this out of my brain

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

PART FOUR: THE ZOMBIES

Story Summary:  Summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they’re reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they’ve both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan’s side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

Word count: 1555

Elianna spent all of her free time between other patients that week studying the file on Victor Zsasz. The day of found her doing the same before the afternoon, she was scheduled to one of the secure rooms on the third floor.

It was…disturbing, to say the least.

Apparently, this wasn’t the first time that he had been incarcerated at Arkham. According to the file, he had escaped at least three times, and each time had managed to kill at least two women before they even realized that he was gone, and four by the time that he had been brought into custody, which Elianna found profoundly unsettling. There were pictures of the murdered women, which were positively gruesome. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to being locked in a room with the man, guards or not. The way each of the victims was posed at the scene gave her chills.

On the other hand, she found herself anticipating the session, in a perverse sort of way that even she didn’t quite understand. This would be her first appointment with someone criminally insane, the draw of which had had a hand in pulling her to Arkham in the first place. However, her fear helped to remind her where the edge of her professional fascination should be. She resolved to be smart in approaching the issue; she would ask for the two guards assigned to her to be in the room with her and request a third to be watching on the other side of the glass. This would give her ample opportunity to flee the room if need be.

A glance at the time and Elianna realized that it was time to make her way to the third floor and meet her guards before the session. She gathered everything she would need—the file, her preliminary notes, a legal pad, a voice recorder, and her favorite pen—and left her office, going up a flight of stairs and down a clinical looking hallway to where she needed to be. The two guards she had been assigned were already there waiting.

“Good afternoon, I’m Doctor Montgomery,” She introduced herself and shook each of their hands. “Is there a way we can get one more of you? I would like the two of you with me and someone else waiting here if that’s possible, as well as for all future sessions with him.” She looked through the one-way glass and caught her first in-person glimpse of Mr. Zsasz. He was bald, and she could see the scars on his neck above the collar of his uniform. His hands were cuffed to his chair behind his back.

The taller of the two guards nodded at her request and instructed them to wait while he went to retrieve someone else, and was back with a third man in a few short minutes.

The original two entered the room with El, and the heavy door automatically locked when it shut. Bracing herself mentally, she sat at the chair opposite the table from Zsasz at the center of the room.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Zsasz,” She began in a professional voice as she recovered her notepad, recording device, and pen from her case. “My name is Doctor Montgomery. It’s nice to meet you.” Zsasz lifted his gaze from the table to her face and smiled at her as they made eye contact. It wasn’t a threatening or malicious smile, but she fought away the chill in her spine nonetheless.

“So formal, doctor,” his voice was higher than she expected and almost had a softness to it. The sound of it gave El a feeling akin to something slimy being dropped down the back of her shirt. “Call me Victor.”

“If that’s what you want,” El nodded, doing a bang-up job of keeping her discomfort and morbid curiosity hidden and making a quick note. “I understand that this isn’t your first time in Arkham, Victor.”

“Oh, no. I suppose you could say that this is my home away from home.” His cadence as he spoke made it sound as though he had rehearsed this interaction.

“I see. If that’s the case, may I ask why you bother to escape so often?” Only then did the smile that he had maintained thus far become sinister.

“Sometimes…I just need the mark.” El could tell by the reverence in his voice that The Mark was something very sacred to him.

“I see,” she scribbled another note. “I assume that you’re referring to your tally marks.” She gestured with the end of her pen toward the stretch of scarred skin that she could see. Zsasz nodded slowly, deliberately, and leaned forward across the table, supported by his cuffed wrists.

“Exactly right, Doctor. One for every zombie gone.” He explained slowly, unblinking. El got the feeling that he was profiling her just as much as she was him. Out of her periphery, she noticed her escorts shuffle closer, and she reminded herself that she was relatively safe.

“Zombies?” She inquired, making a note before returning eye contact. She couldn’t show him fear. “Would you mind elaborating on that for me?”

“Yes, of course.” He chuckled, seeming to stare into her soul. Had he blinked since they had begun talking? She couldn’t remember. “Yes, yes, the zombies. All you people on the outside that shuffle through life—like zombies—, still believing that any of us matter in the grand scheme of life.” The scarred man sighed and leaned back against his chair, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably, and his cuffs clinked against the metal chair. Good. “I pity you people. So, I liberate you.” The joy in his voice as he imagines the “liberation” process is chilling.

“I see,” Elianna managed after a beat and quickly scribbled one last note on her pad. She could sense that she made a mistake by asking about liberation; it was unlikely that they could make any progress today, and begrudgingly decided to cut their session very short. “I’m afraid that we’re going to have to stop here for the day, Victor.” She wrote down the time as she spoke.

“Aw, so soon, doctor?” He asked in a facsimile of disappointment with his head tipped to one side as El secured her notes and pen back in her briefcase.

“Unfortunately, so, yes,” she returned her attention to him as she stood. “But thank you very much for speaking with me today, Victor. I look forward to our next meeting.” El nodded to him and made for the door, turning her back on Zsasz.

“As do I, Doctor Montgomery,” the scarred man called after her, and she safely made a face as her back was turned. Once the door was safely closed behind her, she straightened her blouse as though his demeanor had wrinkled it.

“Not bad for your first session with that one,” the tallest of the guards reassured her. “That’s about as long as most people can take of that creep usually, but never on their first assignment with him.” That knowledge made Elianna relax a bit, regaining confidence in her ability to do her job.

“Good,” she sighed, looking up at him. “Maybe I can start to make some progress then.” El allowed herself a little sigh of relief. “Well, thank you two very much for coming in with me, and you for overseeing,” she nodded to each of the guards, respectively. “Enjoy the rest of your day, gentlemen, thank you,” she finished and headed back to her office, her mind swirling with various emotions and thoughts.

Once there, she plugged all of her notes into the computer for backup records and wrote a blurb of her thoughts on her note page before adding it to Zsasz’s file and slipping it safely into her file cabinet.

Her main source of concern was his seemingly efficient means of escape that the asylum hadn’t managed to figure out somehow. In all honestly, there was essentially nothing to stand between them if he decided that she needed to be “liberated.” That was a troubling thought.

Shaking her head, Elianna forced these thoughts out of her head. There was nothing during her interaction to give her reason to believe that she was in any danger, for that night at least. All she needed to distance herself from the current problem was to go home, and having filled out her paperwork as she went, she was free to do so.

She gathered everything she needed into her purse, taking an extra moment to double-check that everything in her office was in its place before leaving for the day. She punched out on the machine outside her door and sent Jonathan a goodbye text as she made her way downstairs and to her car.

By the time she made it home, she was so exhausted from her session with Zsasz, regardless of how short, that it was all she could do to make it into a quick shower before collapsing on her bed. Mental fortitude took a great deal of strength, and she couldn’t quite shake the fear of Zsasz suddenly appearing behind her.

The only good thing about the draining capabilities of fear was that she would sleep soundly that night, and sleep soundly she did with hardly a second thought to the day’s events, save for a few strange dreams.

#the mind's power over the body #jonathan crane #scarecrow #batman begins #nolanverse #elianna montgomery #jonathan crane x ofc #slight au #fanfiction #multi chapter fic #attraction to the insane #cillian murphy #cillian murphy scarecrow #tmpotb chapter 4

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

inspired by @honeybabydichotomy​ some time back / me wildly needing a series of small brain breaks from trying to plan this remote lesson while sleep deprived because i simply could not fall back asleep after 3:15 this morning and my brain is feeling A Wee Bit Totally Deranged, here is my vague/wishy-washy to-write list!

things you can more or less properly call WIPs:

*the story i am actively working on right now, in which eliot & quentin take a miserable vacation together and i attempt to set a world record for number of words devoted to cultivating the precise emotion of Agonized Horniness. i thought that this was going to be short and it is definitely going to be well over 20k, big lol @ me for wildly underestimating the quantity of feelings i had about eliot waugh! but actually i am having extreme amounts of fun with this deeply self-indulgent project, which has both let me try out some things that feel new for me and also unexpectedly become very personal but not at all in the way i usually mean when i say that a story is very personal, to the extent that not only am i not (as i usually am by this point in a fic) incredibly impatient to finish it, but also i am a little sad at the prospect of no longer living with it in my head all the time! i have superstitiously grounded myself from posting any more snippets of it but taken as a set i think these do capture the vibe.

*a quick & slightly goofy resurrection fic set as a kind of episode tag for 5x03 set in an alternate universe where the “plot” of season 5 is not really happening but alice and eliot still wind up on the top of grief mountain. my motivation for this one decreased as season 5 continued to be Like That to the point of erasing any desire to keep anything from it in my personal magicians canon, but i like the central conceit which involves rewriting alice’s golem spell as a collaborative spell because i’m a sucker for any and all pieces coming together imagery, and also i feel like for me personally actually succeeding in writing something light and breezy would be a really instructive and cool learning experience!

*i am too bashful to publicly describe the last item on this list and may yet prove to be too bashful to ever finish it but it started out as me trying to imagine a conversation in which quentin tells eliot about Ye Olde Sex Magic Escapade and has sort of evolved into like me thinking a lot about eliot’s ability to trust himself? trying to find the right tone/voice for this one has been a beast largely because quentin turning 800 shades of red while he explains to eliot that a stranger had to give him advice about how to give his girlfriend the orgasms he didn’t know she wasn’t having is the funniest thing in the entire world to both me and eliot, but then every other Concept i have for it is, you know, not so much. i would like to persevere though for precisely the reason i am so bashful about it, which is that i am interested in trying to do what like 80% of people into fic do several times a year, namely write a story that moves through characterization & emotional beats mostly through the mechanism of Doing It.

wisps of half-assed notions floating idly in my brain which may or may not ever result in any actual writing:

*i have two vague epilogue/coda notions for wild geese. one is that i’d like to just check in on that version of quentin a few months later and get to see him feeling like a functional person and enjoying & reflecting on the novelty of that, learning to lean in a little more to who he is and what he wants, possibly via [redacted for reasons of bashfulness], possibly just further toying with the hugely entertaining to me notion that one lingering side effect of his death/undeath is that he suddenly becomes a foodie. or he gets into, i dunno, kickboxing. just very Wow I Have A Body times. the other idea is that i am charmed by the notion of quentin and julia getting a brakebills grant to do summer fieldwork at a hedge coven/hippie commune in like maine or something, both because i like the idea of q & j getting to have a fun low-stakes magic adventure together (they deserve it!!!) and because i’m amused by the extent to which julia would be like “this is an extremely fun way to spend exactly 2 months of my life after which i would fully go out of my mind” while quentin is like “idk maybe i do want to join a hedge commune? i wonder if eliot would be into it.” also q & e writing interdimensionally transmitted letters!

*some.... thing... about julia and eliot becoming friends, either like a snapshot of them bonding while trying to resurrect q, or else a post-resurrection fic where the process was very quick so they never really bonded but now that eliot and quentin are dating julia just shows up one day like “hello eliot who is dating my best friend and therefore also my best friend now! :D” and eliot’s like “wait what now” because he’s so used to imperiously friend-seducing people in the weirdest way possible that julia texting him a link to showing of john waters shorts at metrograph is not something he knows how to process

*some... thing... about alice figuring out how to Be Okay after quentin undeads and they break up. she gets really into some niche hobby or takes herself to some scenic location and hates it or finally tries pot. shit, maybe i am accidentally talking myself into casually shipping alice/josh. but also maybe she doesn’t hook up with anyone? maybe she gets to just have... a... friend? (kady?)

*the night of the s5 finale what i really wanted more than anything was some kind of wildly, exuberantly happy ending for eliot and the mechanism for that which popped into my head was an old school kinda 5-times-ish fic centered around a series of new year’s eves. (1) yes i have written this exact conceit before (2) yes this was partly influenced by the fact that new year’s day by taylor swift REMAINS the eliot love song of all time and “i want your midnights / but i’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year’s day” is still the most infuriatingly perfect description of eliot in love humanly conceivable. the heart wants what it wants.

*something exploring my vague headcanon that quentin and julia absolutely accidentally did magic as kids but it was always in the structure of being dreamy kids playing at magic and half-convincing themselves in that dreamy-kid way it was real, so that when later they outgrew that they also mentally filed those experiences away as playing pretend with great intensity.

*some............... thing........... involving present day post-s4 (alive) quentin and arielle’s... grave? great-grandchild? i dunno man, like, teddy never existed without quentin going back in time, but arielle was presumably a real person and not some weird quest-generated cipher, and i just can’t imagine that a version of quentin who remembers even as much as her name and that they were married has access to fillory and some free time and doesn’t try to figure out what did happen to her. or, like, eliot comes across someone in a familiar town with familiar eyes and is like, q i think there is someone you maybe have to see. for most of my half-assed notions i would probably be almost as happy to read a fic that already exists instead of writing it myself but for this one in particular if anyone has read one please do send it my way. it just feels like an odd gap to read so many fics where quentin and eliot are thinking about The Mosaic and Their Family and not at all interested in the branch of that family that like, concretely in this timeline lived. in my brain this is NOT a depressing story but it is admittedly hard to see how that would work out in practice.

*as you can tell from this list i am not generally a big AU person in terms of writing, because by the time i’ve exhausted the things poking at me from canon to resolve or play around with i have historically lost my stamina for that fandom. BUT, the one gratuitously self-indulgent non-magic AU i want in the world is one where quentin and alice were college sweethearts who got married at 23 and divorced six months later and quentin reacted to this by deciding that love/joy/hope/happiness/dreams are for children and stupid people, and now it’s like... 6-10 years later idk and quentin is “fine” in that he shows up to work on time and pays his bills on time and doesn’t often feel sad but lives a very small life in which he doesn’t often feel much of anything or have much of a connection to himself or other people, enter of course eliot having gone through some Rough Times but eventually turned a corner towards getting his shit together and whose joie de vivre / general hotness / open-hearted affection shakes things up in ways that are both thrilling and totally horrifying!

uncategorizable by the headings listed above:

*on december 28, 2019, i started a google doc titled “magicians underworld breakout fic” which i have sporadically been adding notes towards ever since, inspired mostly by how much i think it was a missed opportunity to never have quentin and penny come to any kind of mutual understanding of each other (or even of their own reactions to each other!) except via fake pod person underworld nonsense, and how potentially fun it would be for them to team up to make it back to life. it currently contains just under 3600 words, but they are exclusively things such as:

hades and the underworld library? hades and the whole library? what’s cool about god motivations is they are almost definitionally stupid

or:

They have been taught certain things and those things are lies - connecting to how Margo got her axes

similar to #3 on the WIP list above, the reason i may never write this is the same as the reason i very much want to actually write this, which is that it is by necessity very plotty, something i have never, ever, ever done. i started brainstorming in the last few days i was wrapping up wild geese partly because i was so excited to have written a story where like magic events happened and only like 96% of the plot could be described as “and then a person has a feeling” as opposed to my usual 100%. i have generated a lot more ideas than i really expected to (some of which i like a lot!) but also am still extremely far from having a workable story, although i also have not dedicated any purposeful time to it really, just kind of let it percolate. also it is tough because every version of how it might be told i come up with definitely involves multiple POVs and so far seems to involve more than 2 partly because like a bunch of my other magicians grudges/missed opportunity wishlist items keep sort of working their way in, which is... a lot. i feel like a sensible thing to do would be to come up with at least one (1) kind of mid-tier plottiness concept, somewhere between “50k words of And Then A Person Has A Feeling with a couple thousand spent on Magic Things Happen, Which Are Also Feelings, But Whatever” and like “5 strands of plot drawing together for me to work out every single one of the 700 beefs i have with this show at once” but AS YOU CAN SEE i literally do not have any ideas that fall into that category at the moment, so. we shall see!

#the magicians #this wound up truly unhingedly long but sleep deprivation is rly jostling my brains! #also first real of quarantine qontent is there are no rules of quarantine qontent

[mymanskabu]

Milo One-Shot:

Tumbling in Love

@pokemonappreciationhcs requested: ❝Henlo! ☺️ so could I request milo and his S/o where they both have herds of wooloo and one wooloo runs off and bumps into milo and they just kinda hit it off from there? Don’t wot if you can’t. Thankies 😌❞

× I don't know if its noticeable but I have one soft spot for fire type mons : >

× I shall get through all your requests and you guys shall love them ! I hope !

× Thanks for the request ! It was super cute and done at 2:30-ish in the morning!

× I'm sure some of you noticed but I changed it from "drabble" to "one-shot" because that's what it is 💀 I promise you they start off as drabbles but then they get to around 2k words.

───────────────────

Every morning was another one filled with manual work. You took care of a lot of Pokemon but the most time-consuming has to be the herd of Wooloo at your farm. Surprisingly enough, your Flareon handles rounding them up just as well as any Yamper or Growlithe would do. It was less difficult with your trusty partner and usually getting the Wooloo to where they must be was fairly simple. It only becomes a crisis when one of them runs off from the group, then it has to be chased down, something both you and Flareon very much wished to avoid.

In order to wake up early, you must have a resolve to actually remove yourself from the comfort of your bed. Once your eyes open, it takes you a moment before you sit up and stretch. You don't even consider laying back down because if that happens then there's no getting up again.

You lived near Turrfield, when you went to the Pokemon Center there, you would always see a Wooloo or two running around through the windows. You wondered if they were your Wooloo at times, but there was always the same man chasing them with a big smile on his face. Somehow, you related to this. Chasing Wooloo is work yet if you love the Pokemon enough, it won't feel like it as much. When you see him it always seems to bring a smile to your face, not only because it reminds you of your own Wooloo, but because the man himself always appeared to be content.

It was slightly windy today, your Wooloo quite liked this weather. They're so fluffy, they roll around and let the wind push them around a bit. Flareon and you make sure none of them go too far out or hurt themselves, some of the Wooloo are a little smarter than others and dodge the fence but other (younger Wooloo) need more attention. You stood by the gate while Flareon made sure it had the young Wooloo near it. It seemed as if it was going to be calm day, no Wooloo chasing until the wind blew a little harder and happy Pokemon flew over the fence.

"Flareon! Ms. Poof flew away!" You said, while hopping over the gate. It would have taken longer to unlock it, open it, close it, then lock it again. "Make sure the other Wooloo stay here! I'll be back with Ms. Poof!" You ran after the ball of white fluff that was rolling rapidly down a hill. At this rate Ms. Poof was going to hurt herself or hurt someone else by accident.

"Ms. Poof! Please try to stop yourself from rolling so fast! You're going to damage yourself or someone else!" You shouted. Thankfully it heard and Ms. Poof was a playful Wooloo but it never wished to cause pain to itself, much less to other people or Pokemon. She slowed down by a small amount, the steep hill was making it difficult for her.

You tried to run at a quicker pace, almost tripping on your own feet to catch Ms. Poof but nothing was in your favor as of now. There was a shift in the weather, the wind didn't calm itself and poor Ms. Poof was making struggling noises, realizing that she wasn't in the best situation. There was someone else outside right now, a man it seemed, he was walking across at the bottom of the hill and about take a full powered tackle. Granted, it was from a low level Wooloo but even then, it'll do damage.

"Sir! Excuse me! Please be careful!" You yelled as loud as you could to warn the man. His head perked up and he instantly caught sight of you and Ms. Poof. You recognized the fellow Wooloo chaser after seeing the familiar hat along with his vibrant green eyes. He has been in these situations a few times, so he squatted and took the tackle with open arms while falling back in the process.

Your eyes widened as you abruptly came to a halt and fell back as well. He stood up then helped Ms. Poof get back on her feet to guide her back to you. She rubbed against his legs and pranced around him with a light blush on her face.

"Ms. Poof... I'm glad you're safe!" You pull her into your arms. She protested a bit at first but then snuggled into your arms, feeling the genuine worry you had for her. "Thank you very much, she probably would have gotten hurt if you weren't there! Are you alright?"

"Don't worry, I'm glad to have helped." His gentle smile caused your heart to flutter like the wings on a Butterfree. "I'm alright, you should worry about yourself and... Ms. Poof ain't it?"

Your irises shifted to the side, staring at nothing in particular. You were somewhat embarassed that he had to find out that you named your Wooloo. Worst of all, it had to be Ms. Poof. Her of all Wooloo; it could have been Fluffy, Cloud, or Snowflake but it was Ms. Poof that flew off as if she was a flying type Pokemon.

"Y...Yes," You stumbled on the simple word, "I'll take Ms... Er.. Poof to the Pokemon Center to make sure she's okay and be off. Thank you again!" He offers his hand and you place your hand in his bigger one, immediately getting a warm feeling from your hand to your chest. Unbeknownst to you, he got the same feeling knew you were someone he wanted to get to know.

You patted your clothes to get rid of dirt that may have gotten stuck to you then politely smiled before picking up your Wooloo and started heading towards the Poke Center. He appeared in front of you once more, not allowing you to walk any further. He didn't seem to have any bad intentions so your head tilted to the side, wordlessly asking if he needed anything.

"It is rather late and I wanted to ask if I could walk you home?" You raised a brow at him. "Not that I think you can't handle yourself! I was thinkin' I could..." He paused, not quite sure how to proceed with his sentence.

"I wouldn't mind the company," You answered while mentally hoping he wanted to get to know you as you wanted to get to know him. "I never got your name, savior of my Wooloo!" The title you gave him made him smile, it was a sweet and shy grin.

"I'm Milo, and you are?"

"Milo..." You tested out the familiar name. Wasn't he the Gym Leader in Turrfield? Oh gosh he is, isn't he? Milo the Grass Type Gym Leader of Turrfield sounds about right. "I-I'm (Name), a pleasure to meet you!"

"Pleasures' mine really," He says.

After Nurse Joy told you that Ms. Poof was okay, you and Milo walked to your home. It wasn't very far but it was still a lengthy walk there. No one brought up a Flying Taxi and you were fine with that. It felt much nicer to talk to him like this.

"How'd you come up with lil' Ms. Poof here's name?" He was carrying her now, she liked Milo a lot and it was a cute sight. One big man holding one of your baby-ish Wooloo, it was a pleasant sight that you wouldn't mind having more frequently.

"Well, I think its self-explanatory... She is quite fluffy and I already had a Wooloo named Fluffy so I came up with Ms. Poof!" He nodded, shaking his head at the information.

"I also give my Wooloo names..." His face reddened at what he told you, but he thought only he would name Wooloo and know the difference between all of them.

"You do!? How do you tell them apart? For me its personality and coat density. On rare occasions its coat density, some of them have colored wool or styled wool because I let kids play with them and I tell them apart that way."

"You are makin' sure they use colors safe for the Wooloo right?" You hum in response, your short way of saying yes.

"I'd be a bad Pokemon caretaker if I was putting my Wooloo in danger, don't ya think?" As if you didn't like him before, he asks about the care of your Wooloo and you adored him even more. He glanced at you apologetically, probably for assuming that you didn't use safe colors for the Pokemon. You waved it off instantly though. "Better to make sure I know about Pokemon safe colors, right? Better safe than sorry. It's fine."

"I'm glad you didn't take it as an attack or somethin' like that, I'm sure you're great at takin' care of your Pokemon!" Not only did you also take care of a herd of Wooloo, you take care of other Pokemon, you were smart enough to know how to care for them all, you were definitely handsome/beautiful, and you got along well with kids from what he's hearing.

"Thank you, I'm sure you care for your Wooloo and other Pokemon well too. I'm glad I'm not the only one that names the Wooloo!" You share some more names with him and he shares what he has named his Wooloo. Aside from that, you liked listening to his stories about the Gym and when he competed in the challenge. It felt as if you'd known each other for a long time and at some point you'd even shoved him playfully with no hesitation. You both laughed it off like old friends, not something you want to remain as though.

Once you made it home, your Flareon was sitting out front. It was waiting patiently for you to get back and all the Wooloo were back in the barn so that they didn't float away. Flareon is very well trained to understand weather conditions and the health of the Wooloo. It also knows at what time they are supposed to be back inside the barn. All done by you! You struggled to train Flareon but now you two had a good schedule going along with a good relationship.

"It was nice talking to you Milo! Let's walk together again sometime," You nervously suggested. Milo was gently setting down Ms. Poof when Flareon noticed your mannerisms change and ran around your legs. Tackling the back of your legs for you to trip right into Milo's hands. "Flareon wants you to agree, I believe." You laughed, trying to hide your embarrassment behind one of your hands.

"I was goin' to agree anyway," He said. Milo blushes and places a hand on the back of his neck. "Would it be alright if I visited at times? You don't have to say yes--"

"You're welcome here anytime!" You cut him off, happily. You had no doubt, you wanted him to come by whenever he could. "It would be great to see you more frequently and hopefully spend more time together?" You scolded yourself mentally for letting the statement sound like a question. Milo found this nervousness you had endearing though, it was an even more adorable aspect to you when he knows he caused it.

"I would love that." He took hold of your hands and gave them a light squeeze. "I will be back soon for you." Your eyes widened but his words pulled on your heartstrings just as a smile pulled on your lips.

"I'll be looking forward to it then."

#request #drabble #im still watching black clover #i was doing so as i wrote this #and im sleepy now #snjsns #pokemon milo #swsh milo #milo swsh #milo #milo pokemon #swsh #pokemon swsh #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon shield #pokemon sword #pokemon #sword and shield #i can never know what these tags be missing

[darkestshadeofgrey]

ELIAS

He avoids the mess with the First Order and its resistance-the conflict feels far too familiar for his liking-but Palpatine announcing his return is the first thing to tempt him to involve himself for more years than he cares to count. Nearly just as soon as he begins to contemplate this choice, however, someone else makes it for him. For the second time in his life he feels the Dark Lord of the Sith fall, and this time he takes the First Order with him. Once again, Elias finds his concern turn to curiosity, as the figure who bested Palpatine piques his interest.

It takes time to catch up-this one is constantly on the move it seems-but he finally manages to catch up to the famed hero of the resistance on, of all places, Coruscant. As he nears the long abandoned temple where he can sense her presence within, he takes a breath and thinks back on times long since passed. There’s a pain and a joy to those memories, but he casts both aside to focus on what he’s come for.

When he finds her, rummaging through what’s left of the archives, he’s astonished to find she’s little more than a child. He nearly lets disbelief see him turn around, but he then senses her grief, and also her resolve, prompting him to at least see this through.

“These halls have gone undisturbed for a very, very long time, youngling. Why have you chosen to see that streak broken now?”

REY

she is supposed to be alone here.

the force signature that seems to barge into the holy space rey has been rooting around in for the past day cycle makes no secret of its entrance. this, more than anything, jarrs rey into dropping the metal cylinder currently in her hand. inwardly cursing the state of her nerves, she manages to stop its descent with the force, but not before it hits several other items on the way down. lips purse so hard they turn white, but slowly she pivots in the direction of the insistent signature at her back. no avoiding it now.

every muscle and tendon is ready to spring as she fully faces the doorway where stands the shadow. from many feet away his eyes are starkly visible, and their brightness clashes with the darkness of his clothing. these are eyes she’s seen before, in someone else. in a dream. it stirs a little fear in the pit of her stomach and it fights her already wound up thoughts for dominance.

but, another skim of the force sets some of her tension at ease. there’s curiosity hovering between her and the stranger more than anything else. so she flexes her fingers and stares straight on. youngling. he’ll soon see she left the youngling she once was far behind her.

        “what do you want?”

ELIAS

The tension his voice brings her as it echoes through the hallowed hall is unsurprising, and though he makes no move towards his own weapons he is more than ready to defend himself if need be-he certainly looks the part of her enemy even if has yet to decide to count himself among them. There's a relief, though, and even a pleasant surprise at her reaponse, making him glad to see some defiance and curiosity cut through the fear and uncertainty that he can feel from her. He grins, and though the expression is hidden by his mask there is a mirth in his voice as he replies.

"Not much of one for answering questions, eh? Good. That will serve you well these days. You'd have fit right in with this lot as well, truth be told; they weren't fond of answering anything either."

He inadvertently lets some of his disdain slip through in those last words, lingering disappointment with the old order momentarily souring his mood. Cautious steps are then taken towards her, a finger idly dragging across tables on the way and leaving a trail in the dust.

"Thankfully for you, I am more willing to be forthcoming, whenit suits me. Consider me a.... interested observer. I do hope you didn't think thwarting the Dark Lord of the Sith would garner you no attention, because if so allow me to be the first to inform you that you were very sorely mistaken."

REY

a snarl begins to form upon hearing his derision, an automatic response still left over from her early days admiring those of the jedi order, but it abates when she hears truth woven in the retort. he isn’t wrong. her own question was partially borne out of the vague and wispy talk she’d heard so much of from luke, kylo, and even leia at times. it’s enough to mentally kick herself for absorbing what she’d hated so much about the way they’d spoken to her. from old dreams, she remembers snatches of anakin’s rage and frustration at the very same empty things he was told. it mirrored her own disillusionment at the time and frightened her deeply. now she understands where he who was to become darth vader was coming from – and yet knows the hopeful end to his story, though it came just barely before death caught up to him. she can’t forget how darth vader ended. but there was so much to dislike about the way things had been done until only recently, and she feels the pricks of that old darkness again. the stranger has hit upon it well. apparently it’s been passed down.

      “you knew some of them, then?” this could mean one of many things, but rey doesn’t want to waste time calculating odds when she could have her answers much sooner. since this intruder is so talkative, might as well take advantage. but first…

       “i didn’t do it to be noticed,” rey snaps quietly. the edges of the room blur, she remembers ashes falling. stones cracking. “someone had to do something and i was there. why does it matter who i am?”

ELIAS

She asked if he knew the Jedi of old, and while he’s certain her question is borne of simple and genuine inquisitiveness-he does speak with a certain familiarity and authority after all-the asking still manages to strike an all too sensitive nerve. He clenches his fist and the ground beneath their feet begins to quake. There’s a rather hasty build and it feels as though the entire temple rumbles as the rage and anguish that still constantly simmer just below the surface of him even after all these years bubbles over as thoughts of simpler, more peaceful times come to mind only to be quickly shattered by the memory of the one who brought them all to an end. The one man who tore down everything he knew and loved. Yes, the Jedi order was flawed, and broken, and a mere shell of what it was meant to be, but so long as it stood there was always the chance, the hope of changing for the better. Darth Vader stole that chance, dashed that hope, and brought all to ruin and ash. Anakin, his “brother”; oh how he hated him. And, as if betraying their order was not plenty reason enough to loathe him with every fiber of his being, Elias still remembered every agonizing second of how he was picked apart, chopped, and shredded under Vader’s methodical, almost clinically dispassionate hands. Vader destroyed everything he was and reshaped him into a plaything, a puppet, a weapon; a sharp edge to cut down those they both once called family. Vader twisted and warped Elias into everything they both once fought against, and for that, even in death, even in returning to the light at the end, would never receive forgiveness.

There is a strained pause of several seconds before he finds his voice again.

“…Yes, I knew them well.”

These words, spoken tersely through teeth clenched so tight they might seem near to cracking, are all he utters. He offers no further clarification of his proximity to the figures of legend, but, if her senses are up to snuff, he is sure she feels everything that he leaves unsaid. It takes several seconds for him to finally calm himself enough to not lash out at her. She is, after all, a child, who knows not of what she speaks. It helps to distract him when she mentions not understanding what it matters who she is, and he even lets out a humorless laugh.

“It matters more than anything, because who you are decides what comes next. You are the future of this galaxy, whether you want to be or not. Everything you do now affects what happens, because, by your actions, you have made yourself into such figurehead. The worlds all look up to you now as the hero who saved them from the tyranny of the dark side; the fabled Jedi of old resurgent. Because of this, whatever you choose to do or whoever you choose to be will set the tide and tone for all that is to come. You may not want attention nor think it matters who you are, little one, but it matters more than anything has in a looong time. That is why I wanted to see you. That is why you have my attention, because I want to see where we go from her. I myself tend to avoid the constant conflict of our galaxy, but even I recognize the significance of this; even I recognize what is important. And you are what’s important now. I have to say, I already like what I see. You have a fire to you that has been sorely needed for some time, and I look forward to seeing how you shake things up.”

REY

a wave of energy explodes across the room, emanating from the clenched fist of this masked man. taking care not to resist it, the wave flows through her. the impression she’s left with in the aftermath is strange: this outburst of anger is not so much directed at her but results more from unpleasant memories. all the same, rey can’t help but reach for her saberstaff. looking around, she sees tapestries on the walls tremble to the point that several slide down to the floor. relics she’d piled behind her topple and some break or clatter on the floor. she’d be far more irritated at the resulting destruction if she weren’t so simultaneously curious and a little frightened by this display.

whoever this man is, he has great power - or he has seen great power and not come away unscathed.

when the air in the room becomes still once more, the man speaks again, sounding wrecked. it’s almost as if the ghostly memory of a black masked, cloaked figure stands between them. taunting. this stranger knew anakin skywalker. this man knew darth vader.

unfortunately rey cannot dwell on this fascinating (or alarming) tidbit for very long before he moves on, and fast. the air around her shakes with conviction this time around, and the words that follow are such a blur of warnings and grudges and compliments that rey finds herself quite upended, unclear where to begin in response. faintly, the echoes of something she said to luke on ach-to float back to her. “kylo failed you. i won’t.” what promises rey makes she keeps to the best of her ability, but what she’s hearing opens her mind to the wideness of what she’s done. training, or trying, to become proficient enough to snuff out a lingering darkness in the galaxy was one thing. being tasked with ushering in a new age is another altogether. nobody told her to be ready for this.

        “i…..don’t know if i’m the person you think i am.” mouth hung halfway open, rey studies the dust motes drifting around her and thinks. “the jedi order is gone. i couldn’t resurrect it alone if i tried, and…..i don’t know that i should.”

ELIAS

There’s a strange comfort that comes from the way she is no repulsed nor even tries to shun or dismiss to fear his little outburst makes her feel. It’s a step in the right direction, and one he wishes the council had taken while it had the chance. He feels her fear shift back to curiosity and uncertainty, and as she continues to speak he can’t help but to smile once again.

“Well, you’re already a lot smarter than the last kid in your shoes. You actually bothered to stop and ask yourself questions like that, and it makes you exactly the kind of person I was hoping you’d be. It means that, even if you don’t always make the right choices, you’re thinking before you make them.”

He takes a moment to finally do away with some of the mystery, deciding to get somewhat comfortable with her. He peels back his hood and removes his mask, allowing his face to be in full view.

“I am Elias Kanu. No one of any import, really. Just a relic of a man who has seen much in his time. As for you, your importance is an unfortunate side effect of your actions. I know that your sudden significance is a lot for you to process, and its ramifications will not be apparent all at once, but I am certain no one else you know has the perspective to even make you aware of it, and I’d rather you not go in as blindly as your predecessor.”

REY

before she can help it, her nose crinkles at his use of the word “kid”, nearly leaving behind his compliments altogether. logically she knows that, once upon a time, luke skywalker could have been called that. it’s just that the almost stony and sad old man she met seemed to never have been young a day in his life. of all things though, this is probably not what she needs to get stuck on.

thankfully, elias removing his mask provides a necessary reset. what is it with men dressed like darkness itself introducing themselves to her by removing their masks? at least this man hadn’t let his reputation precede him.

    “elias.” rey nods sharply in greeting, loosening her white knuckled grip on the saberstaff. if need be she can still strike at any point. “thank you. for your advice and your warning. but what makes you so sure? people have been more than happy to tell me many things - about myself and the jedi - but not all of them have been true. or what i needed.”

ELIAS

He senses her incredulousness and indignance, and despite himself finds his lips curving slightly into a small smile. It reminded him of his own youth, to a point.

“You might say I have a…unique perspective on these matters. I’m not here to tell you anything about yourself, and anything I say about the Jedi will be more cautionary than the the lauding you’re likely used to, but I thought you ought to know what you represent now. I have my hopes and suppositions, of course, but neither I nor anyone else can dictate what you want or what you need or who you are or who you’re going to be. I just came to tell you that, whether you like it or not, everyone will now be watching to find out.”

REY

        “good.” another nod, stiff but more pronounced, accompanies the word. there’s so much mystery wrapped up in what he says and very little of what he’s hinting at sounds strictly positive, but rey can feel the slow approach of truth. this is what she’d wanted - from everyone. not platitudes about her abilities, though she has far more faith in them now than she ever has before, and for good reason. definitely not what her path forward must look like or else she will be as good as dead to the jedi order. this man knows things, and rey knows immediately that these are treasures she wants to rifle through and keep for herself. nearly gone are her thoughts on the trinkets piled behind her. there’s so much more to be discovered elsewhere. she can feel an old familiar itch in her fingers that promises something of value up ahead.

         “you said it yourself: i’ve been told many good things about the jedi. bad things, too. i know they became something other than what they were meant to be. i know luke skywalker had regrets, and so did the people who trained him. but i was never told the whole story. so what do you know?”

ELIAS

“More than most.” The response shoots out nearly before he can think on it, a certain sudden curtness to his tone that jars even him; if only because he marvels at how raw such old wounds still manage to be. He takes a moment to try and set that all aside, body relaxing as he lets out a slow exhale. He can already tell this is the first of a million questions the girl will have now that he’s established himself as an authority, and he can’t treat each one like a slap in the face.

“There is much about the twilight of the Jedi you won’t find in a history book. Most accounts either paint them as near mythical warriors of justice who swept through the galaxy and combated evil at every turn, while others say they are power hungry zealots who betrayed their closest allies and thus were vanquished for the sake of peace.

Peace, bah.” He has to scoff, shaking his head and thinking back.

“The Jedi saw themselves as peacekeepers. Conflict generally was frowned upon, though being able to defend yourself was a paramount skill to be learned. Towards the end, things had gotten pretty cushy for them. They’d aligned themselves with the Galactic Republic, the seats of power for both factions being on the same planet not too far from each other.”

He stops to look around the place, an amused smirk on his face as something occurs to him.

“ It’s funny to think about this temple, a supposed holy place for meditation and education to be located in a city that spans the entire rest of the planet, one that includes the center of galactic politics and the worst and most crime-ridden slums in the galaxy. Such a strange contradiction, this place’s very existence. Anyway, the order in its last days was a far cry from any legendary status they’ve gained nowadays. They were….people, really. People who adhered to a strict code. One made in, I’d like to think, an ideal time for an ideal situation. It put them in a bubble; one they never imagined would pop until it did. Then, the Clone Wars happened. It wasn’t even their war, not really, but as peacekeepers and allies to the Republic, they felt they had a duty to intervene. Keeping the peace meant waging war. That is how holy men became generals. How masters became murderers. It became a murky time, and the Jedi way wasn’t built for murkiness. It made them unable to fathom the war was anything but what it presented itself as, and by the time they saw anything more to it, it was too late to stop what was in motion. They ‘ended’ the war, but the Republic, now the Empire, took all the credit. A Sith Lord sat at the highest seat of power and systematically dismantled his greatest allies and his greatest competition: the Jedi. The council didn’t see it coming at all, so caught up in their own self-importance and chasing their own tails to see the threat right beside them. A lot of good people….people who had just been doing the best they could, were lost in the Purge….and only the lucky ones of those were killed. In the aftermath, both the Empire and those who remembered the Jedi were able to spin their own stories…their legends. Who would tell either side where they were wrong?

And so, here we are; nearly a century later with a mix match of stories told by scores of people who weren’t there and don’t know but are all absolutely convinced of the ‘truth’ of their accounts. Does that satisfy you as the ‘whole story’, youngling?”

REY

all focus is drawn to the sounds of history being spilled at her feet like poison spit from a snarling mouth. the only wise thing to do is listen, to soak up each detail like she is a sponge that will never fill. this knowledge cost something. many things, if she senses correctly. perhaps even shards of a soul. but it keeps spilling….and spilling and spilling. quite unknowingly, she’s broken open a geyser that has been stopped up for too long – and it’s raging.

while elias speaks, she can recalls that the brief time she spent on ach-to with luke opened her eyes wide to the fragility of what used to be the jedi order. while it might have once been a paragon of peace and justice - or actually accomplished anything noteworthy - enough pressure seemed to crumble it. even while luke valiantly tried to resurrect the soul of what the jedi used to be on crait with his last gasp, he couldn’t erase the truth that elias seems to be indicating as well: the jedi had lied to themselves for longer than they wanted to admit.  or worse, they’d convinced themselves over time that their code and their teachings were the only way, were the only truth. by the time the galaxy needed them most, they’d self-brainwashed themselves into blindness. blindness that left more than just peace in its wake, but lives as well.

through it all, rey feels the rate of her heartbeat ratcheting up and up while the tale spins darker and darker. she can feel the bitterness and judgment in the air coat the stones at her feet and climb up the walls, tingeing the air around the two force wielders a sickly gray. it’s as through elias’s very emotions are living beings, invisible to the naked eye but crowding the lonely room in a defunct temple so tightly it’s hard to breathe. rey waits long moments after elias finishes so she can wrestle back control over her heart and lungs. there are so many thoughts (chiefly that she will NOT be representing such a failed code) and questions to ask about what not to repeat and what to do differently, but before that…

“you were there, then. if the people that can only recount legends were never there, and you have the whole story, then you were in the middle of it. you knew them, and you saw what happened.” the fact that his force signature betrayed personal knowledge of anakin skywalker and darth vader is still vital, but that particular jedi turned sith was not the only player in the downfall of order in the galaxy. “and if that is the whole true story,” it is; she can feel it in the threads of the force that twist and warp around her, “then i will not represent something that failed so miserably!”

ELIAS

In the pause between his speech ending and her declarations beginning, Elias manages to center himself Picking at these old scabs is taxing-though necessary- so he takes whatever reprieve is afforded to him. It’s fortunate, then, that her final summation pulls forth hearty laugh out of him loud and genuine it nearly catches him off guard. “HAHA, that’s the spirit girl! Oh…you are, such a refreshing change of pace. I’m so used to these people and their…blind devotion, or baseless revulsion. You manage to recognize that the Jedi meant to do something right and were just shit at it. But you’re right: I was there. More than that, I was a one of them. I watched from the inside as the Order was destroyed, watched people I loved die in droves, and I watched and felt what the Empire built over their corpses. So I know, from experience, what a Jedi is meant to be, what the Order turned into, and -most importantly- what it could be. I see the latter in you, youngling. I see a chance to take the example of the best intentions of the Jedi, but the flexibility and wisdom to look beyond their rigid and unyielding code. When this conversation began I told you that you will be the example for what comes next, and I am now convinced you’re primed to set a good one. And to that end, I will do something I haven’t done in….a very long time: I offer my aid. You have many questions, I’m sure, and I will answer them all to the best of my ability.” 

REY

nothing so far has caused her more unease than this man’s laughter. it grates the air, making her grit her teeth in reaction. though his response isn’t strictly…..unpleasant, it’s the surprise of it that has her on edge. is he making fun of her? is he pleased? she has to hone her focus to him and anything he says to glean anything at all.

one of them. it was easy to put the pieces together before, but this admission makes everything quite real, stand in stark definition. how she takes comfort is realizing what it cost him to be part of the empire and the damage that was wrought upon his mindset. elias hasn’t recovered, may never recover, from what he has seen. this knowledge as good as any promise he could make to her that he doesn’t wish to cause her harm or derail her purpose.

      “you would?” this is an olive branch and compliment, she’s sure, but rey has never been good at properly responding to either of those. nevertheless, her spirits lift before she can stop them. maybe there’s no need to. “i do have many questions, and i need a teacher. though i’ve been offered help before and it’s done more harm than good. forgive me if i still have my doubts.” but she’s testing him. all of her wants to find out if he is as trustworthy as he postures himself to be. “if we are to do this….” slowly, she allows a half smile to surface. “you cannot call me youngling. no matter how old you are.”

ELIAS

Her excitement proves contagious, and he finds himself bizarrely eager to begin her instruction. He’s never had a student before-and in many ways still thinks of himself as one-but the prospect of sharing the trove of knowledge stored in his mind is suddenly quite alluring. He’s never even considered it before, and it amuses him to have so serendipitously stumbled upon such a fitting recipient.

He nods thoughtfully as she expresses her lingering doubts, understanding them completely. They have, after all, only just met and to expect implicit trust would be foolish. Her desire for her youth not to be so regularly pointed out, however, draws an exaggerated sigh and a rolls of his eyes.

“Very well. I suppose that takes ‘kid’ off the table as well then, eh? So what shall it be, then? Your reputation may precede you, but it unfortunately seems to have failed to include your name. As for your doubts, however, hold onto them. The last thing I would ever want is to silence that voice in your head that defies convention and seeks certainty. I aim to earn your trust, and, truth be told, I’d be horribly disappointed if you gave it away so carelessly.”

#graysistance #graysistance 1 #v: main

[unordinaryquotes]

Yo ik this isn't necessarily your forte, but since you do the reviews and stuff I figured it might be fair game: what do you think would happen if John had been paired with Remi instead of Sera?

Man....that’s hard to think about. I don’t think it would get rid of John’s hatred for the hierarchy or the progression of his PTSD (or other mental illness is he has one) However, he would see that Remi tries to make a change in the world and probably guide her on how to really help.

A friendship with Blyke and Isen would also be on the table. I think at first they would quarrel over differences, they’d eventually become close friends. Meanwhile, Sera would slowly be crushed over time with the responsibilities she had forced on her. She may be a rival to Remi and John or even start working with Ember all to maintain her high society placing. Arlo would be in the middle on the dispute between the two parties.

To go into more detail about story beats, Remi going away for her brothers funeral would end up being a rough week for John. He ends up pissing off Sera and she threatens him. Remi would hide her sadness over her brothers lost from John, only trusting Arlo since he knew Rei as well. This would get John concerned and he invites her out to the mall, just the two of them. Remi would find out about the power rating booth’s scheme when she got the bear and she would try to shut him down but it would end up going like how it went in canon when she confronted him.

Now when Arlo starts getting suspicious of John’s abilities, he confides is Sera as she is the strongest in the school. She would stay confidant, proudly boasting that no one could defeat her.

John would gift Remi his UnOrdinary book and Remi would remember it as a book Rei used to own. He never showed her it, but she remembers him talking about it. She takes it with no issue. However she becomes careless when Sera visits her room to talk. She spots the book and turns her in. Sera wants to revoke Remi’s title but Arlo stops her from doing so.

Remi is sent away on leave and she tasks Blyke and Isen to watch over John. John apologizes to her over gifting the book but she says that it was worth it. She wanted to see another piece of her brother, now that he’s gone. The first week of Remi’s suspension is a bit rough, Blyke and Isen can’t be with John all the time, but he finds an unlikely support in Arlo. The two build up their friendship like they did in canon and eventually John ends up following him out there.

Arlo attacks him with Veintus and Meili yada yada John enters beast mode for a moment, his PTSD taking full control of him. He calls up Remi, and debates on telling her on what Arlo did. He remembers he’s pretty important to her so he’s conflicted. He resolves to tell her when she gets back but Remi decides to go back early.

However Arlo’s attack was actually a plan coordinated by Sera. She wanted to see if John really was strong as Arlo though so she used him as bait. After seeing Arlo beat up she feels fear for the first time in her life. Not used to such an emotion, she vows to bring John down to cripple status for real. We might also get a phone call with her mom which shows that she’s being abused as well but that’s for later.

Remi’s mother wants her daughter to stay for just another week, the loss of one of her children had really destroyed her and she needs the comfort of the other. Feeling sad for her mother, Remi decided to postpone her trip back to Wellston another week.

However that week is living hell for John. All of sudden Zeke and every middle tier seems to be after him. Blyke and Isen are seemingly nowhere (Sera made sure they constantly had duties to attend to during free periods and after school) and Remi wasn’t coming back for another week. It’s over that week that John comes to realize just how much Remi did for him at school.

When she gets back John cries in her arms and she’s speechless. When she hears what Arlo did she immediately storms over to his place. He doesn’t reveal John, he knows not to do that, but after several minutes of prodding from Remi and a mention of Rei, Arlo softens up and tells her Sera set it up.

Remi then goes to confront Sera, in front of the school I may add. She’s so angry that all reason goes out the window. She says Sera is cowardly for hurting a cripple like John and that sets Sera off. The two end up fighting and Sera wins with little effort. John runs to her when he learns she’s in the hospital. But she refuses to see him, not wanting to see him after she failed to get justice for him.

She meets John’s dad and he ends up treating her like he did Sera in canon. John’s dad leaves and John goes to school. Remi decides being cooped up all day won’t make her feel better so she goes for a walk through town. She ends up getting targeted by Ember. Yada yada lost power yada yada angst time. Though she had been campaigning for lower tiers to have more support she didn’t realize just how bad they had it. She used to jump in and do whatever she want because she had the power but now she’s brittle and weak. John tries to comfort her over it but being powerful himself he doesn’t know just what to say.

Remi, throughly depressed with all that happened this year, locks herself in her room and doesn’t leave. Soon news of Remi’s status as Queen is called into question and Sera decides to revoke it, giving it back to Cecile who gave her info on Remi’s lost powers. Arlo, Blyke, and Isen aren’t happy with this decision and go to confront Sera about it but she simply blows them off. The school learns Remi became powerless and begin harassing her. At first it’s not physical, they just talk to her about how annoying all her preaching was and make suggestive comments now she put her body to use now that she lost what made her special.

They start escalating by putting pins in her bags and dumping water on her (she’s always been afraid of that because of how easy it would be to shock herself like that). They bullies don’t physically beat her up, they know Arlo, Blyke, and Isen would tear them apart if they did. John, seeing how the school ignores Remi in her time of need and keeps such a crooked system where those who are powerless are bullied, decides to do something about it. He becomes Joker and starts fighting the people tormenting Remi.

At first it’s for her, but eventually that’s just a front to him. He finds joy in hurting the people who made his life miserable. Soon he decides the only way to destroy the hierarchy is to take out the remaining pieces. With a heavy heart, he beats up Isen and Blyke. Remi is shocked that something happened to those two and begins investigating, finally getting her pep back after seeing her friends hurt.

Meanwhile Sera tries to up the antics to tear John down further but it ends up making him more resentful. He defeats Cecile and Arlo and threatens Sera that she’s next. Cocky that she can beat him, she accepts his challenge. She’ll reveal him as the true coward, she isnt scared. That emotion has no place inside a god Tier like her, right? That’s what she was taught. Crush those who refuse to comply by whatever methods. Her stupid sister refused to understand that but Sera wouldn’t be another screw up like her.

Sera and John fight, getting more and more heated. It’s hard to tell who’ll come out on top, but eventually using his karate moves, something Sera didn’t expect, he defeats her. But Remi was watching the fight and puts two and two together. She collapses in tears and enters depressive state even bigger than the last. Her entire personality has shattered, and she only allows Arlo to come see her. She rarely sleeps anymore, it’s too hard to. Same with eating. Every time she does, it reminds her of the meals she shared with John.

Okay I’ll end it off there cause this was getting waaaaaay too long for a simple ask. Probably not what you wanted (or were expecting) but this is the best I could come up with.

Also I probably have arthritis now.

#unordinary #unordinary john #unordinary seraphina #unordinary arlo #unordinary remi #unordinary cecile #unordinary isen #unordinary blyke #unordinary rei

[tuwam]

@urianius // 

soyeon’s conveniently out on the balcony when he shows up, or maybe he’s waited until she was out on the balcony to show up. maybe just maybe she’d purposely left to the balcony knowing he would take the time to follow her. their kind are cunning like that. she’d argue it was in their nature.

‘we need to talk.’

finally. if it were any other person she wouldn’t be so nonchalant about this, this mental cornering, this quiet accusation. but with wonwoo it was coming, it was always coming, it’d been on its way since the first day she’d meet him, a quiet shadow ready to pounce and cover yoojun from all harm.

maybe she wasn’t a red flag back then but she certainly was now. she’d considered with holding the information at first, but she played it well. she knew that saying where six was would fly over yoojun’s head but not wonwoo. she knew that as long as yoojun expressed desire to go, wonwoo would be adamant in making sure it didn’t happen. she had to let him know what they were up against and well, she couldn’t very well lie to those damned puppy dog eyes. 

soyeon’s only acknowledgement of his appearance on the balcony is a hand that swirls the wine in greeting. the nightmares haven’t exactly stopped, so she remains out on the balcony on nights like this, when it’s windy it’s easier to hide her distress from yoojun, the boy picks up emotions like a homing beacon.

“is he asleep?”  ‘yeah.’ wonwoo fills the space beside her, arms folded on the railing. she still doesn’t meet his eyes not that she’s afraid. she just - she’d like the scenery of seoul to calm her while they go over this, touch on the inevitable. she’s not sure where it’ll go but the seoul breeze and flickers of streetlights make everything seem a little less than it is. they don’t have a lot of time, the longer one of them is away from yoojun, the easier it is for him to hone in on them and ultimately wake up seeking them.

“better fire your questions then.” ‘who’s the coven head?’ 

“her name’s sun. kim sunhee. she’s even friendlier than I am.” soyeon hasn’t said the name in what feels like centuries. not because of vampire time or anything like that - but every minute she’d spent uttering that woman’s name had been a time when she’d felt stuck, trapped and running out of time all at once. so to say it again, she still finds herself whispering it, an accent almost unrecognizable taking over while she does. wonwoo’s bound to ask about that too, but she has to be careful. even saying sun’s name could be a curse. soyeon’s careful, always so careful and yet she’s so ready to open up.

‘will she come for you?’ “she’ll try.” ‘soyeon.’ “yeah yeah, she can’t find me.”

it’s more than being careful. sun has eyes spanning multiple provinces in seoul and it’s probably even bigger now. where yoojun lives is on the outskirts, near his school but it just barely kisses the edges of sun’s territory and even then that’s not what keeps soyeon safe from her eyes. 

‘what do you mean she can’t?’ there’s shame prickling in the corners of her mouth, a bittersweet smile and she covers it with another swig of wine. it’s tasteless, there’s no buzz and yet she does it just to do it. maybe to show there’s a bit of regret in what she has to admit.  “yoojun.” and even if the laugh is misplaced she does so anyway, surprised at the shame she feels when months ago it’d been so easy to make the decision, to hide behind yoojun. “werewolves put quite the block on her power.” now, it’s something more, something unfair and not a bit like her. it’s unreal how he’s been able to change her heart, but that’s the reason she’s opening up, it’s the reason wonwoo is out here interrogating her after all.

‘you’re using him.’ “i was desperate-” ‘if she finds out--’ “she won’t.”

soyeon knows wonwoo is looking at her now, can see out the corner of her eye that his knuckles are gripped the railing. he’s upset? disappointed. yoojun’s so much better at reading this. but yoojun is the exact reason why she can say it with certainty, even if she knows there’s so much doubt - so much pessimism about this situation floating around wonwoo’s mind. it’s because of yoojun, because of his light that she can say this.

“she won’t find out.” the silence that follows through, is telling. it holds the realization. ‘you’re going to go to her first.’ and this time the smile is, gentle, a little too wide, too open.

“bingo.” at that, the rest of the wine is gone and she doesn’t quite want to hear anything else so she heads back into the apartment. she’d made the decision the night yoojun was bustling with drive to save the person most important to her and soyeon decided that - he was too important to her for that. younghyun would understand, it’s always been them against the world, she never intended to drag anyone into it - even when she’d decided to tag along with yoojun. she won’t let it touch him, she’s sure of that. but even being sure can’t sway wonwoo and he’s on her heels as she slips back towards the kitchen.

‘you can’t be serious----’ “careful, it sounds like you care.” ‘a district coven head? district?’ “and a royal pain in my ass.”

the wine glass is filled yet again and for what purpose, she’s more sober than she’s been her entire life. there’s no alcohol in the world that can drain the state of alert that sun always evokes in her. it makes her antsy, makes her want to move, to get away from something when she’s not even sure it’s there. it’s having eyes in the back of your head that aren’t yours. still, she takes another swig, messy and uncoordinated. wonwoo looks unimpressed.

typical.

‘soyeon.’ “what do you suggest i do then hm?” ‘think.’ “while i think, he’s being tortured. everyday.”

she doesn’t talk about it, she’s never hinted at it. they must have had an idea from the nightmares, from restless nights and tears but she’s never said it, never made it explicit. something about saying it, even when she visits younghyun in her dreams and sees him battered and bruised, something about saying it makes it too real. and that hurts, it feels like a curse. 

she takes another gulp and wonwoo is silent.

of course he is.

‘charging in won’t help.’ his voice is even, as if he’s trying to process the news and remain the level-headed one, remain calm despite watching her resolve break. despite watching the little cracks in the wine glass each time she lifts it to her lips. ‘you have to know that.’

“and you have to know that if I don’t do something soon, yoojun is going to go out on his own and try to fix this for me. sun will kill him wonwoo, she will kill yoojun and then you will kill her.”

this silence, it rings like the inside of the glass.

‘is that what you want?’ his voice is even and soyeon’s eyes narrow. “no, because then by law...i’d have to kill you.” and for younghyun’s safety, she’s not sure what she’d be able to do with yoojun gone and the prospect of losing another. she’s not sure and she doesn’t want to know. 

‘what else aren’t you telling me soyeon?’ “please like I know everything about you!”

anything left to say, is blocked by wonwoo’s head shooting towards the direction of the room. he gives her a look, a rather pointed one and as she moves to search for another glass, one that isn’t slowly cracking at the corners, yoojun pads into the room, his big ol’ dog companion at his side. 

‘why’re you guys up...’ soyeon pulls out a small carton of milk first and hands it to the sleepy giant before he can get any other questions out. she’s handed a glass full of wine to wonwoo who won’t even regard her with a smile. his attention is on yoojun, the boy slowly shuffling his way into wonwoo’s space and resting his chin on the male’s head. it’d be endearing if the last words of their conversation didn’t still ring so harsh. 

yoojun’s picking up on wonwoo’s mood. seeing as soyeon’s easily fired up - it makes sense he’d fly to wonwoo first. he’s always so visibly agitated when he senses something wrong and wonwoo always does a good job to keep himself under control. wonwoo maneuvers himself carefully so that yoojun doesn’t have to lean or arch too much and the atmosphere around them seems to melt away from everything else.

in a way, it’s solidifying her choice. her resolve. any other course of action would break this, bring harm to this and she can’t do that. she’s been selfish enough.

“you should rest yoojun, you were going to visit your old man in the morning right?” ‘mhmm, are you guys coming?’ soyeon opens her mouth but wonwoo beats her to it. ‘soyeon and I were deciding who would take first shift driving, since we’re leaving so early.’ ‘are you going to let soyeon drive this time? really?!’ really, he’s such a joy to be around, she can’t even send the glare she wants to at wonwoo because yoojun is smiling so wide despite his eyes barely opening. ‘you guys need to rest too then right? i’m sorry i can’t drive or i’d offer.’ “it’s okay, we’ll be in just give us a minute jun.” and that he does, sauntering off with the dog at his heels. wonwoo is passing her by, picking the now empty glass of wine from her hand and resting them in the sink.

‘we’ll talk about it later, let’s just,’ “i know....I know.”

it’s a cheap trick. but she compromises for now, she allows herself to fall into the warmth of the bed, of whatever the three of them have created. even knowing she can’t cling to it as much as she wants for longer. 

it’s enough for now.

#urianius #{ w: soyeon. } #im sorry i only write for your older kids im sorry ill stop when i stop thinking of things #also im sorry but they help cuddle yoojun when he can't sleep and yoojun pulls wonwoo with him when soyeon can't sleep #all in a big ass mattress bc platonic soulmates fight m e

[lalalalelo]

Always

Byleth felt empty after her and Claude claimed victory over Nemesis. The flow of time allowed her to head back and learn the full truth about her students, the church and herself. She struggles, how can she decide on who would need her guidance more?

She returns one last time after her slumber of five years – to choose her final path.

So, I asked myself what Byleth would do, if she knew about everything just like the player does? I had to get this out of my system. Please be aware that this has spoilers about ALL routes. English isn´t my first language, so please have mercy on any mistakes you find, you can keep them 😛 I can relate to Petra, the struggle to find the right words is so real sometimes.

AO3

Enjoy~

Byleth tried to open her eyes. They felt heavy and somehow refused to listen. Her consciousness woke faster than her body, she could hear the noises of her surrounding before she could see what caused them. It was quiet, but she noticed the sound of water flowing, birds chirping in distance and a breeze rustling through trees.

She has always loved the sound and scent of wind. It gave her this feeling of hope and safety. When her father died, time had come to stop. How ironic, her being the vessel for a time-manipulating goddess. Back then, colors began to fade and every bit of emotion she had learned so far at the wondrous place the monastery was, just slipped away. At that moment, she didn‘t even feel the urge to hold on to it. With the ability to feel such things as joy, curiosity and even love, there also came something else along. Fear and despair. Not for herself but rather for those she learned to cherish.

She loved her father. Byleth knew that everything he showed to her was for her well-being. Surviving on the battlefield and striking down her enemies has made her physically and mentally so much stronger than those she was attended with, despite them being around the same age. But they taught her the value of life, something she never gave a big thought before. To her, death was the never-leaving companion of the living. She was certain, she would greet him like an old friend, should he come to her one day. But she was not ready when he came for Jeralt. As everything went gray and the voices of her loved ones seemed to fail to reach her ears, the one thing that stirred her broken heart was the wind. It blew through her hair and embraced her body. And it came along with hope.

But she was confused, and tried to find that specific hope in revenge. After the battle against Solon and Kronya and witnessing Sothis‘ sacrifice, she was ashamed that hatred and anger were the first emotions coming back to her. Now, after everything she went through, she knew how easy it was to give in to them. And she was aware of the costs.

Finally, she blinked and her eyelids fluttered open. Daylight blinded her, a rock poked into her back. Nothing she has not experienced before.

“Are you alright? “

A poorly-dressed man stood above her, wondering about the strange figure he just found. She sat up and scratched her head. Not good, the pulse wears me out even more than last time. This will probably be my last round, I better not mess this up.

“I‘m good, no worries.“

Byleth coughed, her voice was as hoarse as usual when she reached this scenario. Trying to stand on her wobbly legs, she stretched her back and inhaled the fresh air. She walked past the confused villager, already knowing where to head next.

“Hey, where are you going?“

She didn‘t stop or turn around.

“My students are awaiting me.“

While walking the long stairway leading to the monastery, her mind began to wander off. She felt at ease and full of determination, her heart was prepared for what was to come. This was the path she chose and it would mark the end of her journey through time. It was twisted and bent so often on her watch, she was certain to break the divine pulse one day. But she wanted to do it right, there was no way past the methods she had to use. Byleth was resolved to make sure if someone had to get hurt, it would be her. If someone had to mourn the dead, it would be her thinking of the lost ones from another time and life.

It all began at the end of her first path. Victory over Nemesis was claimed, and she was to be crowned the new queen of Fódlan. She spent her days working and building the new future of the still wounded country. Things were complicated. The long war took its toll on everyone. Nobles refused to break with their traditions and the folk was skeptic about the opened borders and new immigrants coming in from neighbor countries. While all that happened, she clung onto two thoughts. One was over Fódlan´s throat, trying to fulfill his dream of unification and collaboration. Claude went off to manage his duties as Almayran prince, to return as king and the leader of a new dawn. She believed in him and everything he strove for. But him not being at her side and the two of them working for a brighter future without caring for their lives together…

It was exhausting and made her melancholic. How many nights has she spent sitting by the window, gazing upon the very same stars he showed to her? In those nights, she remembered all the dead she left behind. Her second thought haunted her. All the blood her hands spilled, all the sorrow she could not prevent. At some point, it was necessary, and she never hesitated to do what she had to. Hesitation meant death. But the loss of former students and friends hurt her in ways she could never grasp. They left a hole inside of her, hollow and deep, never to be filled again. How often did she ask herself if she could have saved them, make a difference? What would have happened if she chose Edelgard or Dimitri instead?

It followed her into her dreams and clouded her mind. Byleth knew she would never find peace if she couldn‘t find out the answer. A decision was made.

She almost reached the monastery grounds. The sun glimmered reddish over the mountains, announcing the arrival of a new day and dipping the landscape in shades of violet.

When Byleth decided to return to the very beginning, that day in Remire, she was never so naive to think that she was the one to prevent the war from happening. But she wanted to know the truth, all of it. Rhea still had secrets she wouldn‘t spill, she surely never told her and Claude about everything that led to Edelgard‘s decision. They didn‘t even know the slightest about Edelgard‘s intentions. What drove her to such drastic choices, leaving everything behind, risking her loved ones for a war she couldn‘t be sure to win? Byleth needed to understand, because as she gripped the sword of the creator firmly and beheaded her former student, all that was to be seen in her last gaze was about frustration and loneliness. It hurt her all over to hear how much Edelgard longed for her to walk the same path. But the empress also made clear that each time, Byleth would choose to not accompany her, her way would lead over Edelgard‘s grave.

In the end, she did learn about Edelgard. About the trauma of her childhood and the sins she accused the church of. Her way of ridding the church was and still is questionable but not totally unreasonable. Byleth remembered the very moment when Edelgard won the war, and they witnessed the birth of the new united empire. It was a bittersweet victory, considering the cost – once again. But peace befell Edelgard‘s face, the only expression Byleth wished to see on her at the end of this path she finally chose.

In order to save Dimitri from his own hatred, she also had to know where his demons hid. He was a lost soul who strayed too far from his true path. A wild beast lurking underneath the calm and gentle mask of his, just as Felix used to tell her. The tragedy of Ducar weighted heavy on his soul. The dead seemed to never leave or fade away. They followed him in his sleep, during his day and even in his happy moments, they stood by his side. For a long time, she couldn‘t imagine the burden he was carrying. But as her journey through time continued, she caught a glimpse of what he went trough. When she slaughtered her loved ones again and again, their dead and empty eyes haunted her. Especially while siding with Edelgard, she would only meet disappointed and angered souls, despising her betrayal. Even when she told herself, she did all of it to save them later…slashing her blade through Sylvain, piercing Ingrid‘s heart, casting a spell upon Ignatz… nothing could ever prepare her for this kind of battle.

Dimiti started to return to his friends after Rodrigue fell and Byleth knew, he would never heal but only get better. Witnessing his path of revenge and redemption, how in the world would she be able to bring him back, without actually being by his side? And how would she make Dimitri and Edelgard coexist with everything that happened? She was sure it wasn‘t impossible. She realized that the very moment as the kingdom‘s troops invaded Enbarr and Edelgard knelt before her and Dimitri in defeat. When he reached for her hand in peace, his eyes filled with mercy and gentleness, wishing for her to finally give in. Back then, she thought Edelgard couldn‘t get over her pride and would rather choose death over defeat. But after walking alongside and getting to know the princess, Byleth supposed it was about Edelgard caring for the future Dimitri would be able to create. There was no place for her in that scenario, there would be nothing left of the goal she had in mind. And Dimitri‘s chances to rule over a new and united kingdom would only become more difficult with Edelgard living on. How would he explain it to his nation and those he led, why would he let her live? A war criminal, if not the most hated one? Edelgard would be lost in the slaughter she caused, and she had to give Dimitri a reason to cut his own path. Ever since Edelgard was aware of how her future had to look like, she would only be able to live for the achievement of her goals. There would be no alternative to that.

Byleth shivered. The warmth of the sun just begun to spread out as early morning greeted Fódlan. She stood in the inner courtyard of Garreg Mach and had a look around. Walking these halls countless times, she had knowledge about almost every corner, every stone, every secret. It looked exactly the way it normally did when returning to this point. How steady the flow of time is. She used to believe that meant she would not be able to change the end. No matter who and how she chose, she would end up where fate wanted her to be. At the so called peaceful end that lied down a road paved with graves and blood. It seemed hypocritical and false. What was the point in reversing time when hardly anything could be changed?

She was done with it. Byleth simply chose to not let fate decide on the ending. For crying out loud, she was a goddess after all! Who dared to stand in her way? Sothis would probably chuckle over her overly ambitious attempt of changing the future.  In the end, she could never save her father. Each and every time, he ended up dead. It led to her realizing that change never came without a price. In order to be with her students, her father had to die. He had to die and demonstrate how easily a life could be wiped out. He had to let her finally break free from the cage that trapped her heart and mind. And as life and death kept her company along the way, she changed. She laughed and grieved, she shouted in anger, she was ashamed and furious, she loved.

Even now, after everything that happened, the moments that rang clear in her head were the small ones. Eating cake with Annette, sparring with Felix, going on a horse ride with Marianne. Trying to dress up Bernadetta for the ball, dodging Hilda´s attempts for sliding out of chores, drinking tea with Flayn. Spending lunchtime with Dimitri, studying with Edelgard in the library.

Dancing with Claude beneath the stars. Claude, smirking at her. Claude, showing her how to pull back the bowstring more efficiently. Claude, sneaking his new created poison into Lorenz‘ tea. Claude, trying to climb a tree as Petra advised him to. Claude, bantering with Lysithea. Claude, teaming up with Sylvain for childish pranks. Claude, raising his voice at war council. Claude, brushing back a strain of her hair. Claude, reaching for her hand when she fell off his Wyvern. Claude‘s skin on hers.

After blood and death, after tears and the loss of those she dearly loved, her head was still full of him. The memories of them together made her dizzy. His warmth filled her up and gave her the strength to pull this through. Nothing was as hard as seeing him but not being allowed to reach for his hand. In those other lives, he wasn‘t the same as the one who chose her to be by his side when he fulfilled his dreams. It hurt so much and her longing brought her more to the edge than any battle ever did. But Byleth knew how selfish it would have been to give in. Too much was on line for her to grow weak.

Byleth arrived at the goddess tower. She entered and looked up the stairs. Her feet started to move and step by step, she climbed higher.

So, Edelgard would end up lost and lonely without her, death was inevitable. Dimitri would not be able to take back control over himself, not on own efforts. He needed her guidance to get over his hatred and sadness. Claude would be fine. He did good, always. Staying alive, he sneaked his way past death, avoiding violence and confrontation if possible. He was flexible enough to adjust his plans. He would never need her like the others would.

The top of the staircase came in sight, her steps echoed through the tower. How would she save Edelgard and Dimitri in this mess? How would she approach the other when choosing one of them? This question chased her through countless sleepless nights, spinning in her head for what felt like an eternity. And when she was at the end of her last road, she could finally see where she had to head off to. The truth was, she actually knew that she carried the answer within her all this time.

Edelgard struggled, Dimitri raged. Claude would be fine, always.

She stood upon the last step and let her sight wander through the room. Bright sunlight fell into the room. She stepped out from the shadows.

“You overslept, Teach.“

A smile formed on Byleth‘s face as she walked towards Claude. He stood in the first light of the day, wind blowing through his hair. The flow of time brought them back together and that was her decision alone.

Edelgard struggled, Dimitri raged. And Claude would be fine. But Byleth returned here. Because she didn‘t need Edelgard‘s longing for justice and change. And she didn‘t need Dimitri‘s unforgiving force to cut her way through enemies. She had those of her own. She needed Claude‘s hope. The very same hope she could feel when the wind embraced her. If she really wants to make a difference, she needs him. Before the empire attacked the monastery, he made the confession that she could always count on him, no matter what happened. He was the only one to believe in her coming back five years later. Claude wouldn´t need personal saving, and he wished for his former classmates to live. He valued life over every victory. For a better future, he walked fierce and steady, shining bright, expelling the shadows of doubt and despair. Byleth would never forget the sight of him, gripping failnaught tight, the same way she held onto the sword of the creator. As they faced Nemesis on the battlefield, his arrows pierced the air like shooting stars, never to hit her, distracting their god-like enemy. The moment the last arrow met up with his target and shattered Nemesis‘ defenses, she was able to finally strike. This battle was symbolic for all their fights. Claude was always there to clear the way for her, just as she did the same for him.

Even more importantly, he would accept every single word she had to tell him. About her journey, about the truth and about what had to be done. She was ready to pay a price for change, if necessary her own soul. But before that, they would try everything to find a way together, to find true peace for all of them. Not only did she put her trust in him. After everything that happened, she believed to deserve happiness on her own. And Claude was the one she chose, he would always be the one. Byleth would always end up right here.

Her smile didn‘t fade as she lost herself in his deep green eyes again. “We got work to do, Claude.“

#fire emblem three houses #claude von riegan #claude x byleth #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #edelgard von hresvelg #claudeleth #spoilers #divine pulse #fanfic #f!byleth

[afincf-tirwer]

Medusa

So I saw this beautiful art drawn by @artofcarmen and I was inspired to write a thing, hope you enjoy.

Medusa ran through her village in terror, the hiss of the snakes reminding her of what horrors had befallen her. People recoiled with shouts of disgust and fear, throwing stones, knives and releasing dogs to chase her which stung at her heels, spurring her to run faster. Not one recognised her as the woman she had once been, a priestess in Athena’s temple, devoted to her goddess and blessed by the Fates with extraordinary beauty. Now she was driven out of her home, treated like a monster and betrayed by her goddess. Athena’s face would forever haunt Medusa, the deep disappointment painted across her face that had been quickly overtaken by hate and fury. Medusa stumbled over the rocks, cutting open her leg, injuring herself further. The shouts of the townsfolk were fading the distance, and the disgraced priestess threw herself into a cave, terrified for her life.

Her pursuers thundered past her hiding spot and Medusa let out a breath before looking around what would now be her new home. To her surprise it was well-stocked with food, running water and a loom, she hesitated in approaching the items, fearful of a greater wrath being unleashed upon her but the pangs in her stomach convinced her to eat some of the fruit. When no ill effects were seen she tore into the provisions hungrily, feeling a ravenous hunger within her. After her meal, she burned some of the meat to honour the gods. Despite her state, she feared the Olympian’s wrath should she forget to thank them for her fortune. The moment her hunger was satisfied she became aware of how her skin still burned from the unwanted touch of Poseidon. She shuddered, nearly ripping her torn clothes from her skin before attempting to wash away the god’s touch on her skin.

Medusa spent hours in the pools, desperate to rid herself of the taint on her skin, yet no matter how hard she scrubbed she could still sense the god’s magic lingering upon her. Eventually, she moved out of the pool, wrapped herself in the furs and fell into a deep sleep, exhausted both mentally and physically. In her dreams she had hoped to find solace from the events of the day, but Hypnos was not kind to her, she dreamt she was back in the temple, being violated by Poseidon, still able to feel his hands upon her skin like a brand, the heat of his seed within her before she was left broken and used in her goddess’ temple. Then came the heat, the terror in her stomach when Athena appeared before her, grey eyes blazing with all the fury of Tartarus. Her goddess pointed a spear at her and an agonising pain spread through Medusa’s body as if a thousand knives of fire were being forced into her skin. She felt her hair drop away from her head only to replaced by writhing snakes, her teeth sharpened into fangs and she howled before collapsing.

Medusa woke up in a cold sweat, heart beating wildly as she ran to find a mirror where she looked at what she had become. Her face remained mostly unchanged even though her complexion was now a deep emerald green but her hair had been replaced by snakes and patches of scales could be found on her arms. Medusa dropped to her knees and sobbed, praying for a god or goddess to come and have mercy on her, come and allow her to be released of this torment. She dug through her possessions until she found a knife and she held it high before plunging it into her breast.

Or at least, she tried.

The blade was stopped inches from her heart and when Medusa opened her eyes she saw Athena standing before her, hand preventing the knife from killing her. Athena watched as her priestess dropped to her knees, crying, head pressed against the floor begging for mercy. She reached down with one cool hand, stroking it through Medusa’s hair and Medusa gasped as she felt her wounds from Poseidon’s rape and the chase begin to heal until it was as if they had never existed. She looked up, golden eyes filled with tears and confusion as Athena raised her to her feet as if she was an equal.

“My devoted priestess, you reject the gift I have offered you.” Medusa shied away from the goddess, terrified of what further torment may be in store but Athena’s grip was unwavering. “You do not understand what this means for you my child,” Athena’s cool grey eyes locked with Medusa’s as she explained. “No mortal man will ever threaten you again, this form will protect you from any man who tries to harm you again.”

Slowly Medusa stopped shaking and she sank to her knees once more, this time crying in gratitude, thanking her goddess for her gift, her protection. Athena smiled at her, stern visage flickering for a moment before she vanished, leaving Medusa alone once more but this time Medusa was filled with joy, her goddess had not abandoned her, had not betrayed her, she would be safe from Man forever.

As decades passed Medusa continued to honour the rites she had learnt from being a priestess and Athena often visited, bringing news of any men who were coming to attack her so that Medusa may be prepared before they came for her. Over time, Athena began to feel affection for Medusa as the once human proved herself loyal to her goddess over and over, refusing to let something pass without a sacrifice to thank Athena for her kindness. However, Poseidon noticed the bond between the two and plotted with his brother, whispering in his ear, poisoning him against his daughter.

Years passed Medusa by and she realised slowly that something was inside her, growing bigger and stronger, sapping her energy. She moved to her mirror and her fears were confirmed, she was carrying Poseidon’s child. She prayed to her goddess, asking for guidance yet none came and Medusa began to fear for her life. Rumours had continued to spread throughout the mortal world of a monster who had treasure beyond imagining in her cave and mortal men were still hunting her yet Athena no longer warned her. She barely slept, praying, begging for protection as the first men found her, of course, they never got far, being turned to stone by Athena’s gift but Medusa was terrified that her goddess no longer cared.

Up high in Olympus Athena raged within her chains, fighting for her freedom even as Hephaestus tightened the metal and Hecate wove her magic tighter. Zeus and Poseidon stood over the younger goddess, attempting to reason with her, trying to convince her that this was what the Fates prophesied.

“Daughter you must understand that the mortals believe Medusa is a monster. She has turned many warriors into stone, good, strong men, who only wish to bring glory to their families.” Athena shot a deadly look in her father’s direction.

“And who is responsible for Medusa’s fate?” Zeus cocked his head in confusion as he motioned to the goddess who responded by spitting at Poseidon’s feet. “No father. It is his fault that my priestess has been reduced to this. He violated her on my sacred soil and so I shrouded her in protection. She was loyal, devoted, and you would have me abandon her?” The wisdom goddess laughed in the older gods’ faces before falling silent and Zeus and Poseidon worried at the determination in her gaze.

Medusa lay in her bed, panting, holding a hand to her side as she attempted to staunch the bleeding. The warriors were getting smarter, driving her out by shooting arrows into her home while hiding, forcing her to get closer in order to dispose of them. Each statue held memories of battle and she stored each one carefully, not wanting to disrespect those she had killed. Medusa’s eyes slipped shut and she drifted off into a deep sleep once she had stopped bleeding from her wound. To her surprise, Aphrodite appeared before her in her dream and Medusa began to bow but the goddess stopped her.

“I do not have much time to speak Medusa. Beware of Perseus, he seeks to take your head, stay safe, protect your children.”

The cave rang with Medusa’s gasp of terror as she awoke, hands moving to cup her stomach, both relieved and horrified by the goddess’ advice. All of sudden she felt a deep maternal love springing up within her, and she vowed to protect her child, no matter what the cost. In the following weeks, Medusa prepared herself for battle, sharpening her weapons and resting from her wounds as the skirmishes never ceased. She could feel in her bones that the day was coming and she feared that she would not be strong enough to withstand the assault. The lack of her goddess’ support also terrified her, as she had relied on Athena’s advice.

Meanwhile, Zeus taunted his daughter as he returned from speaking with his son while wearing the guise of Athena. “He truly believes he has won your favour daughter. I have gifted him a shield that will protect him from the gorgon’s gaze. She will never be able to defend herself now.”

Athena howled in her rage and the chains creaked while the magic unravelled, and her grey eyes burned with determination. Her priestess would not be left in her hour of need. Athena would prevail and protect her loyal follower even at the risk of her father’s wrath.

“MEDUSA!” A brash yell startled Medusa out of her sleep and she grabbed for her dagger before rising, staying close to the shadows as she glimpsed a look at her challenger. “I carry with me the protection of the goddess Athena! You stand no chance against me gorgon!”

Medusa’s heart almost shattered, the thought that her goddess had abandoned her, left her to be hunted and slaughtered like an animal nearly broke her, brought her to her knees. But then she felt the slight swell of her stomach and her resolve hardened, she had to fight, if not for herself, for the sake of her child. She began to plan her line of attack.

Aphrodite slunk towards the room where Athena was being held, a key held tightly in her hand, and as she grew closer she charmed away the minor goddesses protecting the chamber before she crept in, easing the door shut behind her. Athena’s head snapped up when she heard the door open and she couldn’t hide her shock at seeing Aphrodite standing there. She was even more surprised when the goddess flashed her the key.

“Why are you aiding me?” She demanded as the other goddess began unlocking the chains that held her down. Aphrodite’s ruby lips curled up into a devastating smile, sweet and cunning as her eyes widened innocently, and Athena glared harder.

“Because I am the goddess of love and your love for Medusa is quite touching.”

Athena stepped free of her chains, still suspicious but she nodded to the older goddess and thanked her before disappearing, intent on saving her priestess. Aphrodite stood in the chamber long after Athena had disappeared, ruminating on how strong an Olympian’s love could be for a mortal, even if Medusa was no longer mortal.

Her breaths were coming in sharp, terrified pants. Medusa clutched her knife tightly as she bled from her wounds. With Perseus carrying the protective shield that prevented her from turning him, she was unable to get close enough and she got badly wounded trying. She curled tighter behind the stone as she heard him creep around her home. The battle had turned into a game of cat and mouse which Medusa knew she was going to lose. Her knife, a gift from her- the goddess Athena, slipped out of her hand with a clatter and she could hear the hero’s footsteps growing closer. Medusa prepared herself for death, sure that Athena had abandoned her to be slaughtered like a monster. She closed her eyes as her hands rested over her stomach, focusing on the life growing within her one last time.

I am so sorry I could not protect you. Was Medusa’s last thought before she felt the blade sever her neck from her body.

Athena watched in horror as Perseus decapitated her priestess before taking her head and mounting the winged horse, Medusa’s child, before flying away with his spoils. The giant seemed to be made of pure gold as he escaped into the sea, but Athena only had eyes for the body of Medusa. She seethed over the fact that Perseus was under the protection of Zeus and so she could not destroy him for what he had done. She gathered up the body in her arms and she shed tears over the woman to whom the Fates had been so cruel to. Suddenly Athena stood up straight, eyes still wet but she lifted Medusa’s body and arranged the proper funeral rites that should apply to a high priestess. Her heart burned with hatred for her father and uncle, the lack of remorse they had for their deeds, even convincing Medusa in her final moments that Athena had chosen to renounce her. Her grey eyes darkened until they resembled storm clouds and if anyone had been there to witness the goddess’ rage they would have been incinerated.

Hades glowered at the goddess in his throne room, how dare this young upstart demand such a thing from him as if he was to obey her every whim. He rose to his full height, towering over Athena but to his disappointment, she did not shrink back in the face of his rage. Rather, she matched his fury and made her demand once more.

“I want Medusa’s soul to be granted entry to Elysium.” Hades snarled at her, furious.

“The Underworld has its rules, wisdom goddess. Monsters go to Tartarus, they are not granted the privilege of being laid to rest amongst the heroes.”

“Medusa was not a mere monster-“

“She was a gorgon-“

“-who was once a priestess-“

“She died a Gorgon!” Hades’ voice boomed throughout his kingdom which caused Persephone to investigate the ruckus. She saw the goddess arguing with her husband and hesitated, unsure of the side she should take. Aphrodite had told her of Medusa’s tragedy and of Athena’s love for her priestess but as Queen of the Underworld, she was required to uphold the laws that had been in place for millennia.

“If you do not grant Medusa her just reward I will do it myself.” Hades laughed in her face, and an idea struck Athena, an idea that may grant Medusa her freedom. “I wish to make a deal with you.”

“I will not deal with an arrogant upstart such as yourself-“

“But I will.” Persephone had found a way to sidestep her duties as Queen by taking a deal with Athena who bowed before the Queen of the Underworld.

“My sweet, are you sure you wish to-“ At his wife’s warning gaze Hades hesitated, prompting Persephone to speak.

“I am Queen of this domain my husband and I wish to listen to Athena’s proposal.”

“If I succeed in bringing Medusa’s soul out of Tartarus will you grant her freedom from her death?” Persephone hesitated before nodding. “Swear it on the Styx.”

“I swear on the Styx.” A rumble of thunder could be heard, sealing the bargain and Athena descended into the pit to save Medusa.

After decades of searching, nearly dying as every abomination that had been thrown into the pit flocked to her in hopes of draining a goddess of her divinity, Athena found her priestess but to her sorrow, Medusa would not trust her.

“You assisted Perseus in his quest to slaughter me like an animal. You sat idly by as he stole my child for his own glory. You did not avenge me. Tell me goddess, why should I take your word.”

“If you come with me priestess, I swear on the Styx I shall grant you one wish, anything you desire.” Medusa hesitated but realised what she could do with such a boon and agreed.

On the journey back Medusa found herself in awe of the goddess, how she fought to protect her charge, injuring herself again and again but still jumping to her defence no matter what the odds of victory may be. Once they returned to the Underworld Hades seethed, knowing that this deal would bring the anger of his younger brothers down upon him, but his wife was pleased and he supposed the anger would pass with time. Persephone and Aphrodite were overjoyed, knowing that Athena had won her priestess back from death by her own cunning and skill which prevented Zeus and Poseidon from retaliating.

“What do you wish for Medusa?” Medusa’s golden eyes narrowed as her mind was made up.

“I want to know why you left me to be hunted.”

“As you wish.”

All at once Medusa was transported through Athena’s experiences, the pain and humiliation of being chained by her father and uncle, the agony of being unable to help, the beatings that came after she spat at Poseidon, the rage and helplessness she felt when Zeus used her face to manipulate and lie to Medusa and the fury she felt when she was unable to punish Perseus for what he’d done.

By the end of the visions, Medusa knelt at her goddess’ feet once more, thanking her for what she had done, her faith in Athena restored once more. Like she had done all those hundreds of years ago, Athena stroked over Medusa’s hair and she gasped as the constant hissing that had been her companion through those hundreds of years ceased. She watched in disbelief as she shed her scales and her skin bled back to her old complexion while her hair once again hung about her face. She looked up at her goddess’ face, infinite in her wisdom and began to cry.

Athena ran her hand through Medusa’s hair, again and again, soothing the once-gorgon before drawing her to her feet, like she had done all those years ago and she spoke gently to the young woman. “My loyal, devoted follower. You have never once strayed from your duties as a priestess, should you wish for it, you may be my high priestess on Olympus itself, a reward after all these years of hardship and strife.”

Medusa was unable to speak as her tongue was tied with shock as well as joy and all she could do was nod before she was taken to Olympus and protected by her goddess for the rest of eternity.

#artofcarmen #medusa #athena #aphrodite #persophone

[the-lunar-mistress]

The Dark Side Of The Moon

mood music

The Forgotten Knight, Ishgard

The air was thick with silence save for the gentle crackle of a nearby fire. Aleqa sat at a table, face buried in her delicate hands, across from a recently freed Thavnairian slave, and her dear friend K'aej, in an Inn at the Forgotten Knight. A crude sketch of a highlander she once knew stared back at her tauntingly, triggering pleasant and distasteful memories. Many called him Scowl, but his name was Garmund Cantrell, a human trafficker who captures and sells slaves to pleasure houses all over the realm.

Aleqa was 18 summers when he found her wandering off the shores of Thavnair after she had left her tribe. Young and naive, she followed him on what he would call adventures. This is when she learned of her talents. Where she was taught many languages and skills. Taking on different personas, being able to hear and feel her surroundings without sight, but most importantly, being a lover. She could easily disguise herself and befriend men and women to be eventually lured and taken into their inevitable doom without any remorse. Albeit she never actually knew where they would go, she assumed most of them were involved with trading.

Garmund gave her everything; dresses, weapons, affection, and freedom to be herself. He protected her, never allowing any other man or woman of the crew to touch his protégé, for she was who made his business flourish and grow. He gave her many names; Desert Flower, The Lunar Mistress, and more notably, Lulubell Vixen. This name has stayed with her even through today. It gave her purpose and made keeping secrets easier. She was no longer an outcast anymore. She was needed.

Years had passed before Garmund told her the truth of his business, and what part she had to play in it. He confessed there would be a time when he wouldn't be alive and wanted a successor to his empire. This realization slowly took a toll on Aleqa's mental stability. All she had known was a lie. All she was told. Lies. All those innocent people were at the mercy of perversion. But maybe, deep down she knew there was a part of her that was aware of the chaos and turmoil she caused. That thought in itself made her incredibly nauseous.

More time had passed before she decided to make her move and escape. She used her training and knowledge about his business and schedules against him to eventually slip out of his grasp and hide away in Ishgard. She figured he wouldn’t wait long for her because he knew she could always find him. She always did. Imagine Aleqa’s surprise when searching for her beloved would land her right back into his arms.

The distraught Auri woman slid her hands from her face, an exhausted sigh exits her parted lips as she glances up at the ceiling. Finding some kind of resolve with all the information she had finally processed; she lowered her gaze to the silent maiden sitting across from her. “Knowing all that you do about me, after having come from the same man I worked under, why would you choose to help?”

The maiden bit her lip, her expression telling a tale of distress, “I’ve known about you since the very first day Scowl brought you in. I was lucky enough to be a servant of the crew. All of us watched from the shadows as you grew in power alongside him. We were scared when we heard of all you were capable of. The things you did for him made it seem like you were a brainwashed doll.” She took a breath, carefully calculating her next words. “But when you left for good, and rumor spread of the reason why; I grew hopeful. If anyone could possibly save us from a life of servitude, it would be you.”

Aleqa shook her head in dismay. “Easier said than done.”

The maiden nodded, having a full understanding of the risks involved with her request. “I know. Call it wishful thinking.” She rubbed her hands together as if to shake the chill in the room. “I should get going, I have elsewhere to be. I hope this information will be of use to you, Mistress.”

Aleqa flinches at the familiar title, silently nodding as the maiden bows and takes her leave. She turns her attention to K’aej who is starring at his hands with confusion. “What’s on your mind.” It wasn’t really a question. She expected him to tell her.

The Miqo’te looked at her momentarily through the slit in his mask before visibly opening and shutting his mouth, trying to figure out how to formulate his words. “How do you know she’s telling the truth?”

“I don’t. Most of the ones that escape are either found, tortured, or killed. And on special occasions; all of the above.” She said matter of factly. “But I do know where and how to find him.” She pushes herself from out from underneath the table, stands and glides across the hollow wooden floor over to the bed; her steps eerily echoing throughout the room. She opens up her bag and takes out a dagger, gazing at her reflection in the blade while caressing the jewel-encrusted handle. “I will not fault you for not coming along with me. Should you choose to join, make preparations for Falcon’s Nest. I’d advise bringing a coat.” A slow vengeful grin spreading across the reflection’s face.

The howl of Coerthan winds whispered faint memories into her ears, whipping several strands of her natural white hair around her face as she sat waiting for Garmund to walk out and show his face. No doubt getting ready to head out to the abandoned house to briefly discuss trades. With her plan in the works, she still couldn’t shake the chill off her bones. She couldn’t quite place why something felt wrong, but when she caught a glimpse of his face in the merciless blizzard she disappeared into white, mounted a falcon and took flight.

By the time she got to the small secluded hold, she was damn near freezing. “I suppose I should take my own advice..” she thought to herself.

The place was just as creepy as she remembered, though she half expected there to be guards watching over slumbering slaves. But it was empty. Nevertheless, she walked ahead towards the basement. Passing the empty, candlelit tables where many traders would gather and converse. She stopped at the altar, taking note of the rusting scales on the twisting dragon before kneeling in front of it, placing her daggers neatly in her lap.

She sat patiently for some time, humming a lullaby her mother would sing her. One of the very few memories she had of her. Soon the door from the floor above opened and closed. All was silent save for the flickering of candle flames and the footsteps from heavy leather boots. She knew it was him from the way she straightened her back from the chill that ran up her spine.

Every step Garmund took was in tune with her heartbeat and this filled her with a sudden sadness. His footsteps stopped at the entrance and he said nothing for some time, letting the silence sink into her being.

Finally, he spoke and she could feel every ounce of hatred and pain laced in his deceitful greeting. “So the little fox has come out to play.”

Aleqa stopped humming and slowly opened her eyes. “Hello, Scowl.”

“So formal. Are the intimate moments we shared not enough for you to call me by my name?”

Her face twisted in disgust.“I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Would you prefer dog?”

Joyous laughter fills the room. “Are you not happy to see me? And look, you’ve even worn white! I don’t suppose it’s our wedding day is it?” He took a few steps forward, gauging her reaction. She didn’t move. “Come now! Will you not bless me with your angelic voice?!” He roared as he wildly flung his arms in the air.

Aleqa stood up, anger flooding her being. “Are you not satisfied with the pain you’ve already caused me?!” She spat, gripping the handles of her daggers and pivoting herself to take aim at his now vulnerable chest.

A devious chuckle filled her ears as he took hold of her wrist. For a split second, she was filled with fear as he walked her back into the altar, taking a firm grasp on both her wrists while pressing himself against her body. “As much as I enjoy these games we play, I fear I’m not quite in the mood.”

“Games?!” She faltered.

Garmund ignored her question, instead choosing to brush his face against her hair and breathe in her scent. “Mm, you always did love lavender.” She struggled against him, a violent urge to rid herself of this closeness, causing him to sigh in frustration. “Let me guess. This is about that wench who’s buried out in the snow bereft of life?” He purred.

There was a time she felt complete and utter joy in his sadism, but not now. “You slaughtered the woman I loved.” She seethed.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Yes. Yes, I did. Would you like to know the details? I don’t mind sharing.” She didn’t have to look at him to know that his lips were curved into a devilish smile, a stark contrast to his cool hazel eyes. “I warned everyone of the consequences that would befall them if the woman I love were ever to be taken from me. Did you think you were the exception to this rule?”

She turned her head towards him, laying her watering eyes on a face she hadn’t seen in years. Gentle waves of ear length ebony hair framed his face, just barely touching the line of his strong jaw. He gazed at her, expecting an answer, his face lit up in awe, the lines creasing with the fresh signs of aging. He stood heads over her, clad in a black suit, obviously not intending a fight. Not that he needed to be. “Aleqa. Why must you cry?” His eyes soften. “You were supposed to be an Empress.”

“Why would I want to be with someone who lies, having no respect for my wishes to change.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

He shook his head, rubbing a calloused hand over his stubbled chin, his expression painted with disappointment. “If I told you then, would you have stayed? Though I doubt anyone I sold you to would be willing to put up with such a quarrelsome woman. And at any rate, your entire life is a lie. Tell me, did your late wife know about me? Where you came from? What you’ve done?” She stayed silent, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“I thought so.” He cooed while wiping the salted droplet from her face with his thumb. “There are too many opportunities out there for a woman with your potential. I’d hate to see it wasted on the simple way of living. You were specifically bred for this purpose. How stubborn of you to run from it.”

“Because it’s not what I want!”

He took her face in both of his large hands, his feet spread shoulder-width apart as his eyes stared back into hers with an alarming intensity. “I don’t believe that. It’s who you are. You found me to take my life did you not? Was this to avenge your beloved or bathe in my blood. Quite frankly I’d enjoy the latter.”

“I will not be consumed by whatever darkness that has consumed your heart.”

“No dearest. You see I’ve learned something. You have yet to be awakened. I can’t use you while you’re broken. I am the only man you have ever been comfortable enough to let your true nature flow. You’ll never be freed from this desperate yearning to belong if you have yet to give in to your true desires. Did you not smile in maniac satisfaction when I twisted the neck of the young man whose disrespectful hands soiled your supple skin?”

Aleqa shook her head violently, only managing a choked “No.”

“Did you not cut a woman down for talking down to me of your own free will? And please believe me when I say that I enjoyed every second of it, but I requested no such thing.”

“NO!” Something snapped in her. For a moment she thought she’d lost track of the entire conversation, but that wasn’t so. She was hearing him clearly.

“When did you start hating yourself so much? Who filled your mind with the idea that you were inadequate...are you angry with me now?” His eyes soften, his guard dropping, the veil slipping from his face to reveal his true emotions as he leaned in to kiss her.

He stopped just shy of her lips, the sharp intake of his breath cool against her face. She looked him dead in the eyes, her lips curling into a wicked smile as his hand met her fist wrapped securely around the handle of her blade that was lodged in between his ribs.

At first, Garmund was shocked, but then he smiled. A genuinely thankful grin lit up his face while his blood pooled into her hands. He seemed at peace even as his mouth dripped with crimson. There was an almost blissful gargling as he tried his best to make sounds, his body feeling increasingly heavy. “You know...If there was anyone who could possibly hurt me, it would probably be you.” He paused, trying to catch the last of his breath. “It’s vengeance you crave. But I fear I can’t give you that, little fox. You’ll be rid of my flesh but my legacy will seek it’s Empress.”

Tired eyes looked down at her, but she remained quiet, tears streaming down her face while he hugged her and brushed a bloodied kiss across her cheek before exhaling and slumping to the ground with a loud thud.

Aleqa Dalamiq rids herself of this place, her dress and cheek stained in red and leaving nothing behind but a small waxing crescent carved into the skin of Garmund’s neck.

“What now little fox?”

“What do you want?”

#monologue #screenshots #lulubell vixen #aleqa dalamiq #ffxiv rp #gilgamesh rp #mateus rp #ishgard #coerthas #the lunar mistress #desert flower #the little fox #female au'ra #xaela #astrologian #looking for rp

[roads-rise-to-meet-me]

35-41!

Oooo these are quite a few I am EXCITED.  How is your OC working towards his/her dream job and/or achieved his/her current profession?

I guess you could correctly refer to Valkyrie as a full time Nomad. There was a short spell after she moved to Night City where Valk started to genuinely believe that working as a merc in Night City and becoming legend at the Afterlife might have been her greatest aspiration. But soon enough she realized that that dream was Jackie and V’s. Not her own. Their enthusiasm for it was infectious for a while, but Valk has always been pretty in tune with what kind of person she is and what her desires are, After that she realized all she wanted was to have her old life back. And after the dust had cleared and Valkyrie was free to roll Nomad once again with her new clan, she realized that she couldn’t possibly be happier doing anything else. She still visits NC; V is her closest friend, and he’s always going to be the thing that anchors her there in some way. She still keeps in touch with her fixers and picks up work, but the promise of fame and fortune in the major leagues is something she knows she’s perfectly content without.  What are your OC’s thoughts/opinions of his/her current profession? Not everyone who is born and raised as a Nomad stays a Nomad. It isn’t a life that’s for everyone, and Valkyrie acknowledges that. But it’s the life for her, and she’s proud of her upbringing. No matter how some people on the streets of Night City might look down on her. What is your OC’s biggest dream? A much younger version of Valkyrie might have enthused about how her biggest dream was to become a rock star. More than likely through two missing front teeth and wearing an old Samurai shirt roughly a hundred sizes too big for her. But with age comes more of an understanding about one’s self, and for most of her adult life Valk has longed only for a simple existence, which life in a Nomad clan provided. The energy of a concert venue might be fun for a night every once in a while, but Valk figures if that was her everyday existence, she’d lose her mind. Valkyrie’s dream is really just to live her life on her own terms; seek out whatever brings her pleasure and joy, and take things in stride as each day comes and goes. The open road, blue skies, and a family to call home is really all she needs to thrive; everything after that is just the cherry on top. How does your OC react to and handle stress? Of course, life before NC wasn’t always peachy, and the Snake Nation debates that eventually tore the Bakkers clan apart was one of the most stressful periods of Valkyrie’s life. Often shoehorned by her social groups into a conflict resolving role, Valk tries her hardest to remain resilient in the face of adversity. But she’s never been one to half ass her emotions before, and the more her worries are suppressed and forced to bubble under the surface, the bigger the mess when they finally do boil over. When she is under significant stress, her tells are obvious, and the nervous energy she exudes is palpable. When stressors come slowly, Valk can almost always keep herself together with relative ease. But when life is constantly throwing punches, she needs someone to go to and confide in. Growing up in a clan has made her highly dependent on others, but it’s also made her much more communicative about her feelings. How does your OC handle anger? Valkyrie very much has a ‘you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us’ mentality, and she’s always ready to hop on the warpath for those who are important to her. She’s a passionate person, and it’s one of her best qualities. However, while that means she loves with reckless abandon, it also means her anger burns white hot. Her impulsiveness makes her more likely to come unhinged when tensions are running high, especially when she’s with someone who only enables her. She needs the balance of a more calm and collected individual to hold her back and tell her to stop before she can do real harm. How does your OC handle grief? Like I said before, Valkyrie is highly dependent on other people, so loss hits her particularly hard. She can take a lot longer to mourn than other people, but she doesn’t really shut others out when she does. With an adequate support system behind her, Valk can bounce back from tragedy; she just needs time. However, if she were to lose someone and be left completely alone, she would be on a downward spiral she would likely never recover from. Futility is another factor that would greatly affect her recovery process. Doing everything she could to help save the life of someone she loves, and having it all be for nothing, would haunt her. What is your OC’s greatest fear? This is a question that Valkyrie would have a hard time answering before she came to Night City. Before the heist, before the chip in V’s head, and before Johnny. But after learning the true fate of the man she idolized during her childhood, she knew then that the idea of having her identity completely stripped away from her would be the subject of her nightmares for the rest of her life. Her soul ripped from her body and placed onto a chip for another individual to use however they please is unfathomable to her, and the events of 2077 strengthened her already strong hatred towards the corporations. She already sees Night City as a horrifyingly impersonal place without Arasaka and the Secure Your Soul program; it was merely a reminder to not let herself spend anymore time than she needed to in that place.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk oc: juliette 'valkyrie' serrano #female v #nomad v #character ask