#other and try to have faith that there are brighter things ahead

[scrufflesksunnide]

Something I've been working on for awhile and finally I can tell you what this au is ABOUT.

Welcome to...

SURVIVOR AND MONK: ECHOS OF TIME!

an AU that tries to follow the canon of rain world in it's own unique way, creating new landscapes, added backgrounds that weren't there in rain world, new characters, and overall headcanons galore!

The AU is heavily inspired by things like Mario and Luigi: Partners in Time and Omori! Character refs and information below!

The premise of the au is about Survivor and Monk being contacted by a familiar white iterator from the void, who sends them on a mission to fix this world before things get messy with the landscapes they stand on shifting from times ahead and before, the memories they gained being wiped from them completely, and everything being set back to the very beginning. Their goal is to close time rifts causing this calamity, with the help of the Echos trapped inside these rifts, not only will they gain power to help the world but also gain memory the player never got to see... Will they be doomed to repeat this loop again due to their own problems? Or will they stop it all in time, before they have to repeat it all over again? They are all stuck here for their flaws, much like the echoes before them... maybe it is possible to break the cycle for once...? Meet the Main Cast!:

"Seth" aka The Survivor

Age: 20 Likes: Collecting pearls, Manny, Happy thoughts, Nature, History Dislikes: Having to give up pearls, Lizards, Bad thoughts, Thunder Storms (how ironic), and forgetting about the good times...

"Trying to find peace and happiness in a world that hurt them, their curiosity leads them into a new adventure. However, they aren't alone this time. With their sibling by their side, nothing will take this duo down!"

"Still full of curiosity, they are a sucker for nature much like their sibling. They are deeply curious about nature and wants to explore the world for what it has to offer. Their thoughts cannot be trusted however, despite it being full of curiosity, it is also full of doubt and bad faith after bring them down and keeping them rather depressed. They are numbed by the cruelty of this world, often not showing their emotions due to feeling static. It makes it hard to understand what's going on with them when they don't show a lot that's going on inside. However, they try their best to see a brighter future. They are quiet for the most part, but isn't scared to take action when necessary." Relationship Chart:

"Manny" aka The Monk

Age: 18 Likes: Gardening, Seth, Lizards, Batflies, Donating! Dislikes: Fire, Violence, Blood, seeing Seth sad, being alone. "Full of sunshine and and optimism. No matter of their naive nature, they set out to save this world with their kindness and their sibling by their side. Flourishing their way through this world with kindness has it's ups and downs however, we'll just have to see how they take it." "Peppy and happy, they try their best to make others joyful as well... to the best of their abilities anyway. They can be naive and foolish, they aren't super smart but they try their hardest... though sometimes they push themselves a little too hard. Due to the incident with Seth, they HATE being separated from him and suffers from separation anxiety. Their separation anxiety makes it hard for the duo to split up when it is needed, creating a struggle for the poor fella." Relationship Chart:

"Harvey"/"Harv" aka The Hunter

Age: 19 Likes: Doing risky shit, Red Lizard meat (sorry Manny), combat, their friends... helping out others in need... oh and uh, jokes Dislikes: staying in one place, being fluffy in the morning (yes they do fluff up fun fact!), being on a time limit, scav tolls, failing the mission. "After living through the scary odds, much to the world's pity, they live weaker than what they once were... but luckily they gained a strange but much needed friend." "Energetic and risk-taking, they make great effort to be danger to the enemies who dare try and disturb the peace. They led their ego and pride get the best of them at times and get carried away with playing the role of "hero" as that's the only thing they feel they have left to their name... "hero". They will willingly take a spear if it meant people made it out alive, they will rush head first into danger to shield those they care for... but in turn get extremely hurt in the progress. They can be impatient and does not want to be stuck in one place for more than 10 minutes, they have a soul that NEEDS heroic action and NOW!" Relationship Chart:

enot (dats me!!) the inventor (hehe see what we did there?) here's my [icture!

im 20 even though some people don't believe that fo[r sum reason (also I am very tired so my typig mayyyyyy be a bit wacky but ill fix it latr... probs) anyway uhhh I liek making cool gadgets, being the prettiest thing you'll ever see, my friendsss, eg, and kissing my babe (sethy!!) (and they is MINE, I will KILL YOU IF YOU DARE TOUCH THEM... just kidding!! there's enough of them (and me!) to go around!) and I like long walks on the shore! what I DONT like. I HAAAAAATE when people do not cooparate with each other and don't stick to the plan! like I swear everytime I'm playing skywars I get so pissed because I get teamed up with kids who dont even know how the game works OR they are SO egostical that they try doing stupid stuff and dont LISTEN to the guy who has actually PLAYED the game and KNOWS what their DOING!!! only reason why I lose so damn much is because of these bad teams holding me back, thats why I do solos most of the time and I do SO GREAT with those and- whats that? OH CRAP SORRY UH UH, I also don't like spiders and dark places, I've had a big fear of it back then and I've gotten over it... I think. anyway! im just gonna copy and paste this and be on my way, see ya later! "I'm stubborn sure but I have a great plan!... at least plans that are silly to others but DO work. I guess my biggest downside is I take too much pride in myself and i'm a bit too loud haha but im working on it!! Im very caring and loving and im cringe but im free!! I maybe a bit unstable... physically I mean PHYSICALLY IM FINE MENTELLY... I think. I do have a feeeeew memory issues (but im pretty sure everyone else does since, yknow, the current situation, hopefully I gain my memories back soon with those echoes!) anyyyway, hope you have fun reading everyone else's bios, see ya soon readers!! -love enot" Relationship Chart:

"Grant" aka The Gourmand

Age: 25 Likes: Mold Slime (Loves it so much that 80% of their body is made OF it!... wait that's probably really unhealthy- uhhh-), taking care of slugpups, crafting handy tools, hugging, and art Dislikes: People hurting their tribe, not eating for a period of time, seeing others sad, letting their craving/urges win. "One of the slugcat tribe's greatest warriors and excellent crafter, only thing holding them back from their truest peak is their huge appetite." "Carefree and always willing to protect those they love most. They be a bit slow but they are a lovable guy all around! They often get hungry due to them consuming a lot of mold slime, needing more food to feed their belly and having a shift in mind if they don't get food right away, they often eat other people's food without realizing it. This becomes a problem when people need to save food, it's a huge struggle for them to control these new found urges and often gets disappointed in themselves for letting those urges win. Despite this, they make up for it by trying to be a good role model and inspiration for people. They aren't the actual leader of the slugcats, however, they do take role as leader when the current leader is dead (unlikely but can happen) or they need to split up for expeditions. Relationship Chart:

"Asher"/"Ashley" The Artificer

Age: 20 Likes: Taking care of slugpups and baby scavs, when people do their job, quiet, listening to music, combat, scav boxing matches that take place every Wednesday night (they like watching them instead of being in them cuz they don't trust themselves with fighting people as they get, rough, really rough.) Dislikes: Loud noises, Seeing slugpups get hurt, leeches, water fuck water FUCK WATER FUCK WATER-, having breathing problems, smoke, being reminded of their mistakes, having to get violent. "A strict but fair ruler to the scavengers, swore to make sure scavs don't dare try and step out of line with slugcats ever again. Despite their rage and violent past, they have calmed down and learned that taking on this role (the role the old ruler barely did right) would be a good change in the slugcat race." "Ash often gets a bit annoyed when people step out of line, but luckily they don't expect people to be perfect, they will NOT give slack to people that step out of line on purpose. They are more mature and parent like when it comes to ruling over the scavs, at first they saw them as freaks, but they grew on them after awhile and treated every single scav as if they were their own, even if they don't show it, they appreciate their hard work. They can be demanding but they would never ask anyone to do something dangerous unless they knew they could handle it. They can be pessimistic, most of the time feeling down due to thoughts, that doesn't make them less of a fighter however. They are a combat warrior when it comes to fighting, just because they got rid of their violent ways to the scavs... doesn't mean they got rid of it for the other creatures like vultures, lizards, and centipedes. Relationship Chart:

"Ruffles"/"WD (Water Dancer)" aka The Rivulet

Age: 18 Likes: Collecting pearls with Seth, Swimming, relaxing and chilling with LTTM, other fishes, pretty lights. Dislikes: Huge waves, being Pressured, being on a deadline, being made fun of, getting startled by people, rain, and the rot. "Being on the run for awhile, they were sent out by chasing wind to deliver a data pearl to any surviving iterators out there. Their anxiety is the key to their speed as they rush towards their destination out of fear alone." "Ruffles gets startled pretty easily, though their reaction is oddly... delayed. They often have trouble controlling their vocal volume when they are not relaxed, often getting shaky and anxious when put on the spot or is the center of attention... but when they are relaxed and calm, they really open up to be a fun loving slugcat! They feel they need to get things done quickly due to the events that happened with trying to GET to shoreline, that and they think people might get disappointed in them if they don't do it quick enough. This results in them getting more anxious and things could easily fall apart if people don't catch up. They can be clumsy but makes up for it by having fast reflexes, they almost drop your birthday cake? Fear not as they will do their DAMNEST to have that birthday cake be perfectly fine! They see LTTM as their best friend, often feeling relaxed and comfortable around her, LTTM is the only time where Ruffles feels safe... other than their friends of course." Relationship Chart:

"Sii07" aka The Spearmaster

Age: 19 Likes: Challenging themselves, having a goal and completing it, drawing/painting, SRS... and warm places. Dislikes: Failing a goal, not having a purpose, being bored, people getting in their way, and vultures. "A message slug created by Seven Red Suns that fulfilled their purpose... but found themselves in an unsatisfying life after their loss. They find new albeit, risky and hurtful adventures to challenge themselves so they can feel they have purpose... or at least try to think they do."

"Sii has a knack for putting themselves in dangerous expeditions, resulting in them getting hurt often... but they feel completely numb to it all. They set too ambitious goals with only satisfaction as their reward. It takes a lot to get them to stop trying to do dangerous expeditions but when they do stop even if for a bit, they can be a chill and almost inspiring! They are a pretty good critic too when it comes to art and combat, even though they can be harsh whenever it's negative, they want people to improve upon their skills... It seems pointless to them to try and teach people things... for now at least. They are highly determined, always preserving no matter what, this can be a good... and bad thing. They can get bored pretty easily so they like to doodle or draw full on pieces of art for however long they feel like it, it's much rarer nowadays... but when you get to see it, it's beautiful." Relationship Chart:

"Sage" aka The Saint

Age: 21 Likes: Uhh... Guiding people to the right path...? They didn't really... fill this out. Dislikes: They don't like meat... that's pretty much all I could gather. "Created by-" what?... would you rather that be private? You sure there are people already kno- Okay, okay. We can skip that part. "They set up to help people in need, and be of a sort of guide for Seth and Manny on their quest to fix this big problem... again." "A pacifistic being whom aims to help others in need of guidance. Although their perfectionist nature holds them back from being happy with their results often times. They do their best to support Seth and Manny in their adventure, testing their new found powers and helping them be better people. They have a tendency to not let people in their personal life... but sometimes, just sometimes, people can gain their trust. They are highly mysterious and it's hard to tell if they mean well or not... but they haven't hurt anyone so far and they seem to want to help people with their calm and on form approach." Relationship Chart:

More info coming soon!! This post will be updated now and then so do check back here every now and then! Comics will be in the making soon as well so keep look out for that!

#rain world #rain world downpour #echos of time au #rain world fanart #rw survivor #rw enot #rw monk #rw gourmand #rw saint #rw spearmaster #rw rivulet #rw artificer #rw hunter #rw au #MORE TO COME SOON!!

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2023 :: Day 24

Prompt :: You pick! (Sting) Characters :: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Alphinaud Leveilleur, Tataru Taru, Unnamed House Fortemps Manservant Warnings :: Implied racism, allusions to bullying Word Count :: 902

FFXIV Write 2023 Master List

The sweetness and ever so soothing warmth of the hot chocolate that had been provided to Nomin, Alphinaud, and Tataru from Haurchefant still lingered on their tongues, and remained nestled in their bellies. Though each of them had been wrapped up in snug and warm coats, the biting cold of Coerthas had ripped through layers, presenting a dull chill upon their bundled extremities, and a stinging nip upon their exposed skin.

Despite the sweet left on their tongue, and the warmth within, that whistling, gelid wind was a bitter reminder of everything that had transpired over the last fortnight before they were cleared to finally cross the Steps of Faith into Ishgard. Even then, as the three of them walked over the stone brick path, suspended over a chasm of nothingness, Nomin had all of it latching onto her memories like a parasite. Latched, wriggling, sapping away her mental fortitude.

Even if Haurchefant was able to lift Alphinaud’s spirits with his metaphors and optimistic outlook, Nomin had elected to stay silent. She had only offered a small smile where she felt it was appropriate -- a facade to hide the all too familiar burn of loathsome anger. However, this anger burned more brightly than she remembered it. Because instead of being simply ambushed, they had been betrayed.

Nomin had listened to Alphinaud’s lamentations over this fact. His perfect ‘Crystal Braves’ and what they would have done for Eorzea. Truth be told, even if Alphinaud’s decisions and eagerness to jump right to it had been questionable at times, there was a certain kind of admiration that Nomin had for him. His gumption toward working on a brighter Eorzea had stemmed from a genuine want of the right thing, though his eagerness and lack of proper planning had left him blind to the cancerous threat that loomed over them.

It had been fortunate that Yugiri and her Doman ninjas had been watching and listening for anything out of the ordinary during their stay in Revenant’s Toll… If only there had been warnings ahead of time… Maybe this could have all been avoided.

Maybe…

Nomin shook her head and squinted ahead, trying to make heads or tails of what she could see through the dense fog that shrouded Ishgard. It had been hard enough on its own, but the whipping winds were cause to want to close her eyes if only because they pushed the moisture from them. The walk had also felt as if it stretched on and on…just as it did when Nomin and the others had faced Vishap upon these very bricks.

The towering form of the portcullis felt as if it burst forth from the fog when the three finally got to it. Its gate hung high, the spiked prongs resembling teeth, Nomin thought. It was a foreboding thought, and Nomin could only hope that she was not escaping the jaws of one beast and entering the jaws of another. Though from what Haurchefant had said about Ishgard’s perpetual war…Nomin had very little hope.

Crossing the threshold into the entrance of Ishgard might as well have been like entering the maw of an all new monster stretched out before them. The lights of the towering spires glowed like eyes, peering ominously through the fog. If Nomin had any idea of how Ishgardians were based off of the impressions she got from those outside its walls -- its teeth -- she could only imagine the trials and tribulations that were bound to be before her.

“From afar, the spires did not seem so tall…” Alphinaud remarked once he, Nomin, and Tataru had finally made their way toward their charge who waited patiently at the bottom of some stairs leading further into the stone city.

“Gods… I feel like a child in a giant’s castle!” Tataru exclaimed, though she seemed much more excited about that idea than Alphinaud had. To her stature, Ishgard must have been quite the impressive sight from both within and without.

The manservant that had been tasked to meet with them had cleared his throat and bowed in their presence.

“Greetings, Master Alphinaud, Lady Tataru, and Lady…” the manservant paused, eyeing Nomin warily. “Lady Nomin.”

This alone had already caused Nomin to purse her lips, finding a moment to adjust her gloves if only to give her hands something idle to do. Yes…Ishgard was going to be quite the obstacle in many ways if even who was meant to be a friendly face seemed uncertain of her appearance. She could have chalked it up to the fact that she, Tataru, and Alphinaud were outsiders…but his pause regarding her had been telling.

“On behalf of House Fortemps, I bid you welcome to Ishgard. My lord humbly requests your presence at his residence in the Pillars.” He then motioned toward the stairs before turning heel to lead the way. “If you all would come with me…”

Once the manservant’s back had been turned, Tataru had looked over at Nomin, her expression falling to concern. In response, all Nomin could do was shake her head, though a smile was not forthcoming. She had decided, after all, that if this was the best way to keep Tataru and Alphinaud safe from the prying force of Ul’dah and the Crystal Braves for their supposed crimes, then she would have to simply bear it.

The sting was nothing new, after all. It merely came in a different form.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #alphinaud leveilleur #tataru taru

[ironwhoore]

So- I’m back- Cuz New idea. What if- Hear me out.

Sinclair!Reader is Jason’s Gf but is Horribly abused By him and Eddie or Steve find out. (I’m sorry if you don’t write that stuff)

the other option is-

The reader is from the universe where Stranger things is a show and she gets into the strangerthings universe somehow

if you have any requests for me just go ahead and Ask!

~Love your Faithful follower

Lily

yes i’m apart of the #fuckjasoncarverclub

~~~

summary: you’re abused by your boyfriend and when your best friend finds out he’s pissed off.

warnings: abuse

pairings: reader x steve harrington

~~~~

You came home with bruises. Again. You, Lucas, and Erica’s bedrooms share the same hallway so she was bound to hear you,

“Y/n, is that you?” She calls out from her room,

You try not to show any emotion through your words, you really really did but it didn’t work,

“Yeah,” It comes out as a broken sob, “yeah it’s me.” Erica is not one to fuck around when one of her siblings is upset she walks towards you and sees the bruises on your face through the dim hallway lights,

“Oh my god.” She said it a little loud, (you were so thankful your parents rooms were upstairs, unfortunately lucas’ was not. so his door opened)

“Erica and Y/n why the hell are you up at,” He looks down at his watch 2:38 AM on a school night?” Lucas asks running his hand down his face,

“Look at what that asshole did to her Lucas!” Erica whisper shouts,

“Cant really see, give me a second,” He turns on his lamp which casts a brighter light across the hallway and his bedroom, “What the hell? Jason did that?”

“Yeah, but you can’t tell anyone okay? He didn’t mean to, he just got a little upset. I promise I’m okay.”

“Y/n that is not okay, when I see that prick I’m going to fuck him up.” Erica whispers back,

“Guys please don’t make a big deal out of it okay? I gotta get up early to cover this,” You gesture towards your face, trying to break some tension by adding humor but it didn’t work, “up.”

You went to sleep but decided not to go to school that day, you didn’t want to deal with your asshole boyfriend and you didn’t want to wake up early to cover his mess up. You get ready to visit Steve at Family Video because, you’re bored and don’t want Jason finding you home alone.

You hop in the car and it’s about a 15 minute drive, as you walk in it’s just Steve, no Robin.

“Hey Y/n what’s up?” He asks,

“Just bored,” You answer as you walk closer to the counter,

“Is that a bruise?” He asks, well fuck. You thought you covered them all up. There was one on the side of your jaw that was particularly hard to cover up but you assumed you did a good enough job doing it.

“What?” You try and act surprised, “bruise?”

“Is he hitting you Y/n?” Steve’s tone gets serious, as serious as you’ve ever heard it.

“Who?” You say sheepishly, because god fucking damn it, if Jason finds out someone knows you are in for it.

“I knew from the fucking start he was a prick. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared,”

You guys discuss what you’re gonna try to do for a good 15 minutes before someone comes in,

“Y/n?” Oh fuck.

“Jason! Hey,” You say cheerily,

“Why are you here?” Jason’s jaw tenses,

“Wasn’t feelin well, wanted to get a movie and go back home.”

“It doesn’t look like you’re renting a movie. Looks like you’re talking with Steve Harrington.”

“She’s got friends for a reason dumbass,” Steve responds walking out from behind the counter and standing next to you, (making you fill with worry, all you could think was ‘this isn’t gonna fucking end up great)

“Let’s go babe okay?” Jason goes to grab your arm and you flinch,

“No.” You say, it’s the first time you’ve said that to him,

“What?” He chuckles surprised,

“I-I said no. I’m not going.”

“Really? Because I ca-“ He was cut off. Steve punched Jason right square in the fucking jaw,

“What the hell man?” He exclaims holding his jaw,

“Get out.” When Jason didn’t move you felt tears prick at your eyes,

“Get the hell out before I call the cops.”

~~~~~

idk if this is what you wanted but i tried 😭

#steve harrington #steve harrington angst #stranger things

[neverluckygoldfish]

23 -

Lately: been sick as a dog. I hate the flu.

With that being said, I also recently blew up my entire life….in a good way ;)

I have dreamed of settling down in the PNW my entire life. And no, not because I read twilight. My soul has felt at home in the moody gray, the greenery, the culture. I had plans to do so in the next two years. But life happens (as it does) and now I’m moving in 4 weeks!! Holy shit. It feels surreal.

Do I feel like this is a totally bonkers idea? Maybe. Probably. But I don’t care because everything in me is screaming “hell yes” towards this opportunity.

It’s a big change but I feel grateful because I don’t have an urge to drink or use (wild). It’s stress, but the good kind lol.

They say don’t make any major life changes your first year in recovery….but I’ve never been good at listening anyway.

I turn 30 next year. I’m new in recovery, a newlywed, no house or real assets, barely a retirement savings, no kids (except my dog is my child and you can’t convince me otherwise), a little money in the bank, unemployed (making a career change nonetheless), and jumping into this wild change, headfirst. This is not how I pictured 30 haha.

But something I’ve come to admire about myself is my resilience. If I have ever been unhappy with my situation or desired something - I have set my sights on it and fixed/gotten it. Maybe I did it the hard way and maybe I’m (often) too stubborn to listen to advice, but I did it. No looking back. A pro of being selfish. I have never been afraid to take a bold risk, to dare greatly.

Age is just a number baby! Unless it’s less than 18.

I’ve struggled to connect with my greater She lately - once again, I’m trying to control every aspect of my life. To race against some perceived idea that I’m running out of time. That I have wasted all this time with my issues. That I’m behind.

Maybe that’s why I’m sick? If signs are real, I’ll take this as one that I need to SLOW tf down and surrender.

A friend recently told me “it sounds like you are building recovery around your life when you should be building your life around recovery”. It got me thinking. It made me pause….she’s so right. I think it’s an easy trap to fall into. Once things are good, I just race to the next thing. My foundation is fragile right now. What I do, my attitude - it determines my perspective. It sets a precedent moving forward.

I want to let go of the old me: insecure, approval seeking, people pleasing, melancholy, secretive, controlling, perfectionist. I welcome the new me who sees challenges as an adventure, who is kind not only to others but most importantly, to herself. Who lives a fulfilling life and finds joy in the stillness of every day. Who isn’t afraid to chase her dreams. Who trusts in her own capabilities. Who says fuck the haters (lol, but literally).

I am the woman in the arena. Forever.

I needed that reminder.

So yeah, big move but I am so ready. It feels like a fresh start. Also the little kid in me is like “omg eeeeee!!!!!! Check, life dream accomplished”. Energy is on overload lol.

I’m in a good headspace and at a point in my life where I’m comfortable with who I am. I’m not chasing what’s not meant for me. I’m releasing my shame. I’m learning to forgive myself. I’m staying present. I am becoming proud of the person I was / the person I am.

It’s never too late to start over. Everything can be fun, it’s all dependent on perspective. I welcome the next few months and all the adventures ahead!!!

I have faith in my intuition - my greater She. She has led me here.

Each day, a little better and brighter.

#self love #healing #recovery #mental health #sobriety #healing journey #addiction #drug and alcohol addiction #alcoholism #positive attitude #positivity #focus on the positive #life changing #love yourself #love your life

[leonbloder]

Imposter Syndrome

I  knew this pastor who, every time he got up to preach, would pray a simple prayer before he began to speak that went like this:

"God, if these people knew what you know about me, they wouldn't listen to a thing I have to say."

I've never felt the urge to pray that kind of prayer out loud, but I can attest that I've thought those words a time or two.

Humility in my line of work is a good thing, and if I've ever begun to think too highly of myself, I often quickly get brought down to earth in a hurry.  

In one of the churches I served, a tiny, older lady would sit on the second row, right in front of the pulpit, when I preached.  She would fall asleep about a quarter through the sermon and wake up when we started singing the closing hymn.  

And every Sunday, she would go out the door, shake my hand and tell me, "That was such a nice sermon."  You don't know how often I wanted to smile back at her and say, "You mean that was such a nice nap."

I'd been thinking about how I had just killed the sermon, wowed everyone, brought heaven to earth, and that lady would give me a good old dose of humility with that soft handshake and her sweet little comment.  

I think that was one of God's little jokes on me, to be honest.  

Truthfully, her little comment would always touch a nerve, so I still remember those moments all these years later.  It hit me right where I live, a place covered in signs saying, "You don't belong here" and "Who do you think you are?"

Imposter syndrome is a real thing for many people, not just pastors.  

We all have had moments when we didn't feel like we belonged where we were standing.  We have all had times when we wondered if we were worthy or up to the challenge.  We have all had doubts about our abilities or qualifications.

And for some of us, those feelings of being an imposter are even more potent in our life of faith.  

We wonder how God could possibly use us.  We doubt that God has a great purpose for our lives.  We think we are unworthy to serve in our church.  

And even when we take that step, we sometimes struggle because we secretly believe if people knew who we really were, they wouldn't want anything to do with us.

Author David R. Dawkins once wrote:

No amount of riches can compensate for an inner feeling of poverty.

The fact is, we still need to figure out everything. We are all flawed.  We're all imposters, if you want to put a fine point on it because none of us can be just like Jesus, no matter how hard we might try.

But when we clothe ourselves in humility and go ahead anyway, when we own our brokenness and just follow Jesus, when we step up to be used by God even though we feel unworthy, something incredible happens:

The world gets brighter.  Others get blessed.  The Spirit of Christ is felt.  

And this happens not despite our brokenness and feelings of unworthiness but because of them.  We can become authentic, genuine, and vulnerable in that space of humility, which touches more people than any amount of certainty.

So step up, step out, and raise your hand to be counted and used by God.  If you keep waiting to get ready for the day when you're ready, you'll miss out on all that God has in store for you now.

May the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you now and always. Amen.

[smirk47]

#music #<3<3<3 #friends ... do you ever just #go through a year where the world is literally going to hell and some days all you can do is just keep putting one foot in front of the #other and try to have faith that there are brighter things ahead #and then out of the blue you remember a piece of music that you love? #that somehow has this little key that feels like it is personally tuned to you and your joy and catharsis? #music is crazy dude #its just so fucking good the things music can do #anyway #bear mccreary #is great #and i love the BSG soundtracks #and it's been forever since I listened to it #and it makes me happy #so thanks bear

[raewritez]

Still

based on this request: I’m thirsty for a love triangle. Maybe Sokka and Zuko fighting for the reader’s affection. And she chooses ____!

warnings: one swear word right there ⬇️, aangst, simping

It fucking hurt.

Sure, Sokka knew Zuko was good now, and he knew that the two of you had history. But he couldn't have prepared himself for the ache that took place in his chest whenever you would choose to sit by Zuko around the campfire, when you would tease him in that playful tone of yours, when you would smile at him and it seemed like the sun beamed a bit brighter. It hurt because Sokka didn't get that anymore. Or maybe he did, but he was too blinded by jealousy to process the fact that you cared about both of them. In Sokka's mind, your gaze was always on Zuko, on his stupid fluffy hair and his oh-so-perfect stupid face. Your hand was always somewhere on him; on his arm, around his shoulder, on his face when you healed the cuts that resulted from your latest skirmish. He could only clench his jaw, standing and storming off to where he could be alone with his misery. He'd feel your eyes on him as he walked away, probably widened in confusion and your head probably tilted in that stupid, adorable way that made Sokka's heart melt every time. But he'd continue, not sparing you a glance. It's not like you cared, anyway.

You did care.

What was his problem? Things hadn't been this tense between you and Sokka since you first met, since he labeled you as the enemy and scoured you with his glares. But that was months ago. You weren't used to this standoffishness, not used to the way he'd turn on you and leave you in the dust. No, you were used to Sokka, your Sokka. The one that held you when you cried when the Earth Kingdom fell and Zuko sided with his sister, the one that teased you mercilessly with that lopsided grin of his, the one that raced you to the top of mulberry trees to see who could get the best fruit. The one that came to you when his mind was racing, face nuzzled into your neck as your fingers pulled his hair loose from his wolf-tail. That was your Sokka, not the stranger that walked away from you now.

Your concerned gaze was broken by a soft tap on your shoulder.

"Hey, you ok?"

You forced a smile, turning to Zuko. "I'm fine. Just tired. Your story put me to sleep."

He scoffed, bumping you and turning away to hide his grin. "Well, it's actually my Uncle's story. You can blame him."

"I'm sure I'd be more interested if Iroh was telling it," you grinned. "Maybe you're just a bad storyteller."

"I'm a great storyteller. You're just a bad listener."

"Mhm. Sure."

He let out a breathy chuckle, eyes darting to your face. Spirits, he'd missed you. This is what he'd longed for those three years; this closeness. Memories of his childhood ran through his mind - memories of playtime and friendship, of two best friends who had nothing to fear but curfews and monsters under the bed. Zuko had fought and struggled, had chosen right and chosen wrong, but all those choices had led him here. Back to you. And now, his body lit aflame by your touch and his heart skipping by the song of your laughter, he'd never been more certain of anything in his life.

He was thrilled to have you back, but it was different. Before, in the painted halls of the Firenation palace and under the maroon quilts of his mother's bed, he'd had you all to himself. Now, he had to share. It was strange, seeing you laugh so boisterously with Toph or hug Aang so closely, seeing you walk arm in arm with Katara as you went into town for groceries. He was in much better standing with the group now - he knew he was forgiven for his mistakes and was welcome to share in the friendship they so generously provided. He was overwhelmingly grateful, but he cherished the moments he spent with you. And they'd have been better, if not for the other boy in the group.

Zuko had no problem with Sokka. Quite the contrary, he admired him for his leadership and laughed at his jokes, and the time he spent with him was something he enjoyed. But he envied him. Zuko saw the way the Water Tribe boy looked at you; like you were the sun itself and had put all the stars in the sky just for him. He saw the fondness in the other boy's eyes when you spoke, saw the comfortability in his movements as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He had to remind himself that the two of you were close - that you'd spent months traveling together while he chased you all over the world. He'd guessed you would be close, but it seemed he'd underestimated the power of your love for your friends and this boy. Because you were brighter when he was around, eyes flickering to him as if on instinct whenever he arrived at the campsite. Your eyes grew tender and your voice soft, and Sokka's affection mirrored your own.

Your eyes locked on his, and he felt like he could drown in them forever. Your lips curved into a grin, and his worries and insecurities were washed away as quickly as they came. You stood up, offering him your hand. "Come on, let's get ready for bed."

He took it eagerly, smiling up at you in a way that made your heart warm. You reached up to ruffle his hair, skipping away and laughing at his indignant "Hey!" before he caught up to you and flicked your forehead. You swatted his hand away, glaring up at him. He only smirked before walking ahead of you.

You grabbed your bedroll, laying it out on the dusty ground. Zuko laid his close by. After putting out the fire and bidding goodnight to your friends, casting a sad look to Sokka's figure which sat idly upon the cliffside, you made your way inside and shut your eyes, Zuko not far behind.

///

Yep. Sokka was annoyed. He thought going for a walk would clear his mind, maybe preoccupy his thoughts with something other than you, but he guesses he was wrong. It was impossible when he could hear your laughter all the way from camp, no doubt directed towards the Firebender. He swallowed roughly, picking up his pace. He couldn't stand it; you and him. Sokka had no problem with Zuko. They were friends! Well, pretty much. Zuko had proved himself to be loyal, and there was no reason for him not to be trusted. He was cool - a little awkward albeit, but hey, Sokka can understand where that would come from after spending three years as an isolated, ponytail-wearing, Avatar-obsessed banished prince. He had no problem with Zuko, really. He guessed that he just...missed you.

Katara said he was jealous, something he promptly waved away, dismissing her with a wave. She'd rolled her eyes and called after him, "You can't ignore it forever, Sokka!" Ok, whatever Katara.

He was not jealous. He didn't care about the time you spent with the fire bender, or the way you seemed happier now that he was around. He didn't care that he hadn't talked to you in two days, and he definitely didn't care that your sleeping bag was sidled up cozily next to Zuko's.

"I'm so stupid," he muttered, lowering himself to the ground. He swung his legs over the cliff, feet dangling in the air. He turned his head, catching glimpse of the dying embers in the campfire, Toph's rock tent and Katara and Aang's sleeping figures, and you, asleep with your arms stretched in Zuko's direction. He held his head in his hands, sighing frustratedly. Yeah, maybe he was a little jealous. But really, why wouldn't he be? He used to sleep next to you, he was the one who made you laugh and woke you up in the middle of the night to sneak a ride on Appa. Now what? It'd been days since the two of you had a real conversation, so different from the constant chattering and jokes that had made his time saving the world so much more bearable. He missed you. So, so much. Spirits, what he would give for a day with you, the ones like you used to have. Where you would do whatever you wanted and usually end up scolded by Katara, but those were the days that made him forget the war and the reality of his unfortunate circumstances, when his heart was light and his worries quenched.

Those days meant everything to him, but he was afraid they were expendable. Because now you spent them with Zuko without so much as a glance his way. Sure, it wasn't like he was making much an effort, but still. You'd told him about Zuko; about the friend you'd lost to banishment who'd come out like his father. He'd thought you were crazy when you said with such conviction that he still had some good in him, but had comforted you nonetheless. He sat with you in his arms and told you the story of the time he got beat up by a penguin back home. He felt proud when he made you laugh.

You meant everything to him, but maybe it was different for you. He knew you loved him, although maybe not in the way he was beginning to question his own love as being, but he knew you loved him. You made sure he knew; in your smiles, in your words, in your touch. But he also knew you loved everyone else - the way you talked with his sister and softened her edges, allowing her to rest from the motherly role she put herself in and taking her under your arm instead. The way Toph latched onto you, teasing you with utter fondness and accepting your help without resistance. The absolute adoration that Aang held for you - resting his head on your shoulder and coming to you with his troubles, always searching for your guidance in his trials and relying on your strength and unwavering faith in him.

But it seemed different with Zuko. With him you were unbearably gentle, reassuring him of his value and rekindling the lost friendship of children ripped apart. It was obvious to everyone; the pure affection you held for this boy. It was obvious to Sokka, and, spirits, it stung. Because had you ever looked at him like that? Had he ever made you laugh as loudly as you did for Zuko, who was seemingly not even trying? He didn't know and it ate away at him, clawing at his chest and leaving it burning. Maybe he was in too deep now, too lost in love and bitterness to see the olive branches you offered him and the way your eyes darkened when he turned them away. It was fine. He was perfectly fine and would continue to be fine, even as Zuko's hand reached out for yours. Even as he felt you slipping away, even as he was alone. So terribly, painfully alone.

———-

part two?👀

#avatar the last airbender #prince zuko #atla #fire lord zuko #aang x reader #legend of korra #sokka x reader #zuko x reader #avatar #avatar: tla #sokka x y/n #sokka x you #zuko x you #zuko imagine #zuko x y/n #suki #toph #sokka #zuko #zukka #katara #aang #the gaang #sokka oneshot #sokka imagine #backbender #fire bender

[growup-thatbeautiful]

Mobius x Variant! reader

Warnings: Foul language, Kind of Loki spoilers but not really, Violence

“Don’t leave me! I don’t want… I don’t want to be alone.” It doesn’t mean to slip out, but it does. It’s too late now to take it back, though. She’s heard the words, and I can see the thinly veiled disgust flash across her face before she smooths it over.

The hard lines of the female TVA agents face show no room of sympathy, but some part of me must’ve touched the other one. Mobius, I think.

“Mobius, I know that look. You’re not going to get and answers from this variant. Do the right thing and just kill her here, yeah?”

“I’m not known for making the easy choice, now am I? You go ahead, I think I can still get some answers out of this one.” Ah, the kinder looking one speaks finally.

She grabs his arm and forces him over to the side where supposedly I can’t hear them, but they’re both shitty whispers. She obviously doesn’t trust me, she’s smart like that, but he seems to be convinced I’ll talk.

He wouldn’t have to pry too hard. She was rude and treated me like I wasn’t worth her time, but he’s different than her. That was clear since they brought me in. They’re wearing the same uniform, the sharp jacket, but he wears it softer, less angular. He also doesn’t have those TVA signature cruel eyes or sagging shoulders. He seems to like it here, which is completely foreign to me, but to each his own. 

He comes closer to the table and holds out his hand, standing above me. “I’m Agent Mobius. Sorry about her, she’s under a lot of stress right now. You’ve done a good job of making our lives here extremely difficult, you know.”

“Yeah, well it’s easy to run away when you’re crime is, what was mine again? Oh, silly me, it was that time when I decided to surprise my best friend for their birthday.”

The Agent across from me in the opposite chair, leaning back casually. The file on me is thankfully small when he flips through it, his eyes drawing in confusion. It’s almost enduring, or it would be if I wasn’t under interrogation.

“So, Agent, can you tell me why that was so terrible. Why did you have to come get me because I decided to do a nice thing.” He flinches as my tone, maybe my words too.

“She was supposed to die that day. When you came over, she was going to cancelled her plans for that night because she preferred your company to…Lucas? Was that his name? The short brunette?”

“Yeah, they’d been dating for a few weeks. I didn’t care much for him.”

“You’ve got good instincts, then. That night at their date he was going to get into a fight with the wrong people. He would make it out alive, she wouldn’t. I’m sorry, I know it can’t be easy to hear.”

If I was in the room with anyone else I don’t think I would say what I’m about to say, but he has such kind eyes, and he seemed so truly apologetic. “That can’t be right. I’m sorry, but you’re big guys in charge have to be wrong. She was a good person, she had a cat, so I just- I can’t fucking accept that.”

“He changes. He’s going to go on and save people, be a hero. He can’t be that if she doesn’t die, and she doesn’t die unless she goes on that date.” Oh, his earnest, deceived eyes.

“And that’s worth more than her?”

“That’s not a question I know how to answer.”

“You seem unfazed for someone who just killed a girl.” Sure, they’re harsh words, but I’m not in a compromising mood.

“You seem unfazed for someone who’s just been told that there’s a version of you that’s responsible for your best friends death. Look, I’ve done this enough times to know when you’re going to try and blame this on me.”

“I would never. You’re obviously blameless in this whole situation.” Mobius looks unfazed, and he pulls out some sort of device.

“You’ve obviously got a lot of things to think over, so why don’t I just let you stew for a while. Couldn’t risk you escaping again.”

“That was one time.”

“Which is one time more than most. Honestly, you’ve got it pretty good for someone who made it out in the first place. Most of the time we would stop you in your tracks.”

“Yeah, well I’m not like the other girls.”

“Oh, come on, I had faith you wouldn’t be so cliche.”

“I’ll do better next time you decide to interrogate some version of me.”

“Maybe you won’t have to.” The joking tone is gone, replaced by something more sincere. “We at the TVA have a program for, uh, non-violent variants.”

“Try and say that five times fast,” I mutter, just light enough for him not to hear.

“What?”

“What qualifies as non-violent?”

“Maybe a better word choice is selfless intentions. You didn’t have anything to gain by going over to your friends’ apartment, so you’re in the clear.”

“How do you know that what I did was selfless? You can’t read my intentions?”

“No, but we know your actions. At the end of the day-”

“Intentions don’t mean shit, actions do.”

“Bingo. You up for it?”

“I don’t have any alternatives. Not-dying seems like a good option.”

Mobius let’s himself smile. It’s brighter than any of the other ones I’ve seen here. “You can join my team if you want.”

“Who else is on your team? I won’t have to deal with any others like that one.” I nod my head towards the door, where the other Agent left.

“No, it would just be us. You seem like you would be good at convincing people to listen.”

“Thank you. I think I’ll have to accept your offer, Agent.” I shake his hand, smiling when he raises an eyebrow at my uncuffed hands. “I was able to pick ho a few tricks during my stunt running from you guys. What made you offer?”

“Huh?”

“What made you offer for me to be a part of your team?” I clarify, straighten the jumper they put on me.

“You’re prettier than any of the other variants I’ve had so far. Plus, you seem like you’ve got a good heart.”

“Is that all it takes?” It comes out more a genuine question than I mean, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“No, but it helps.” We walk out of the room, and the guards at the door have the decency not to look surprised.

“The pretty looks or the good heart?” Mobius hums in response, motioning for me to follow him.

“I’ve got both, so I wouldn’t know which one works more. Come on, I’ll get you a uniform.”

“I’m y/n, by the way.”

“I know,” he says simply, “I’m Mobius.”

“I think we’re going to have a lot of fun here Mobius.”

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want a part 2, or something else! I’ll do most characters lol.

#Mobius #mobius x reader #mobius x you #Mobius ficlet #mobius loki #loki fic #variant reader #loki fanfic #loki tv show #tva #tva agent #the tva #owen wilson #Mobius Owen Wilson #loki #nxvna writing #nxvna post

[hamliet]

The Girl Who Gets to Have It All: Buffy Summers

So with @linkspooky​‘s encouragement, I have binged Buffy the Vampire Slayer and relived my childhood culture. And, it's a 10/10 for me. Not that it doesn't have flaws, but it's genuinely one of the best stories I've seen, with consistent character arcs, powerful themes, and a beautiful message. It's also like... purportedly about vampires and demons and superpowered chosen ones, but it's actually all about humanity.

Buffy was able to be a teenage girl, allowed to like the things teen girls are scorned for (boys, shopping, etc), to be insecure about the thing teenage girls are insecure about (future careers, dating, school, parents), and to be a superhero with its good and its bad aspects. The story wasn’t afraid to call Buffy on her flaws (sometimes she got in a very ‘I am the righteous chosen one’ mode) and to respect and honor each of her desires (to be a good person, to be loved, and more). The story listened to what she wanted and respected her desires, giving her the challenges needed to overcome her flaws while also never teaching her a lesson about wanting bad boys or romance is silly or any manner of dark warnings stories like to throw at teenage girls. 

It respected teenage girls--nerdy girls like Willow, jocks like Buffy, lonely wallflowers with trauma like Dawn, and popular/snobby ones like Cordelia, girls gone wild like Faith. It never once reduced them to the stereotypes that were lurking right there: each character was fully rounded, human, flawed and yet with respected interests and goals. This is so rare for a story that I’m still in awe. 

The story as a whole follows Buffy from 15 to 21, of her as she grows from teenager to adult. She acts like a teenager and grows to act like a young adult, wrestling with loneliness and duty. The adults, like Giles, Joyce, and Jenny, are not perfect either, but neither are they “bad parents” or “bad mentors” necessarily. Joyce in particular says something terrible to Buffy, but she tries to do better, and it’s rare to see a parent in YA stories shown with such nuance. Basically, it wrote the long-lasting adult characters as human beings, too. 

Speaking of growing up, I appreciated how Buffy’s love interests mirrored this. Angel was someone Buffy loved and admired, wanted to be like, but who was always either extreme good or extreme bad, and combined with Buffy’s own tendencies towards black-white thinking, made for a beautiful relationship to help her grow, but didn’t necessarily form a foundation for a long-term partner. Spike, on the other hand... they both saw each other at their worst and were drawn to each other even then, and were inspired to become better because they couldn’t bear to be a person who treated the other person so wrongly. They pushed each other to become the best them they could be, and believed in each other. Also, Spuffy is an enemies to lovers ship for the ages. 

(Also, most of the other ships were well-done or at least can be understood. Riley was very obviously wrong for Buffy which paralleled Harmony and Spike in being 100% wrong for each other. Cordelia and Xander were a fun ship even if we all knew it would never last, and Willow and Oz were beautiful and cute. But Xander and Anya and Willow and Tara? OTPs. As were Giles and Jenny, the librarian and the computer teacher.) 

That said, it’s not a perfect series. No story is. All of the characters and ships had problematic aspects to them worthy of critique, and the writing is very 90s in a lot of ways. It’s a product of its time, and in many ways it’s good society has progressed beyond some of the tropes/metaphors used in the show. In other way, though, the show was ahead of its time, and in a good way it wasn’t bound by the fear of purity policing with its takes on redemption (many characters would never fly today). 

So, in order of seasons ranked from my very favorite to my “still enjoyed it very much” (no season was actually bad, imo), here’s my review. I’ll also review my top 10 villains in the show, because Buffy does villains very well in terms of the redeemable and irredeemable.  

Season 7:  Yep, the final season was my favorite. 

Overall Opinion: Buffy's finale is literally "f*ck them men, our power is ours" and while it seems cheesy it actually works (also, f*ck in both a literal and figurative sense). The series strongly hit all the themes: love as strength, and redemption. Buffy consistently shows love as her strength--*all* kinds of love. Friendship w Willow/Xander, familial with Joyce/Dawn, romantic with Spike/Angel. These types of love are also never pitted against each other as is so often the case in current-day media. It's beautiful. Also, Spike’s confrontation with Wood was so powerful in terms of exploring forgiveness, redemption, and reconciliation: where they overlap and where they don't, and what it means to move forward. 

Unpopular Opinion: I have seen a lot didn’t like the inclusion of Potential Slayers, and while I agree they could have been better incorporated/characterized, it was a great way to show Buffy’s final stage of growing up to be ending her chosen one status and projecting/multiplying her powers over the world. 

Biggest Critique: Kennedy was female Riley--the anti-Tara to Riley’s anti-Angel (by ‘anti’ I mean opposite in every way). Kennedy was annoying and immature. Her role, like Riley’s, was less about exploring her as a character and more about her just being stamped as “love interest: lesbian.” 

Favorite Episodes: Beneath You, Lies My Parents Told Me, Touched, Chosen

Season 6: 

Overall Opinion: I said this on Twitter, but I felt like this was Buffy’s The Last Jedi or Empire Strikes Back moment. It is polarizing and dark, deconstructing the tropes it stands on--but by digging to the core of these tropes, it actually makes what’s good about them shine brighter. Everyone’s enemy was the worst versions of themselves. Giles left Buffy, Willow's struggle to relate to the world led to her trying to destroy it, Buffy hurt everyone through her anger, Xander abandoned Anya at the altar, Spike... yeah. It ages well as an integral part of the story, and the Trio were eerily prophetic. 

Unpopular Opinion: Dawn is a great character with a good arc. A traumatized teen acting out and struggling to come to terms with loss and identity? She wasn’t whiny; she was realistic. 

Biggest Critique: Willow’s addiction coding (I’ll discuss this below) and Seeing Red as an episode. I see the argument for both of its controversial scenes from a narrative perspective: Willow starts the season not grieving Buffy but instead being determined to fix it with magic and needs to learn to grieve, but. Still. Bury your gays is not a good look. For the Spike scene... he conflates sex/passion and violence (”love is blood, children” is something he said way back in season 3), but like Tara’s death, it had more to do with Spike (as Tara’s death did for Willow) than with Buffy’s arc, and as for the actual execution... they really botched that. Did it like... have to go on that long or go that far? No. Also, the framing was good, but inconsistent with the rest of the series (Xander to Buffy in the hyena episode, Faith to Xander and to Riley, etc.) 

Favorite Episodes: Once More With Feeling, Smashed, Grave

Season 3 (tied with Season 5):

Overall Opinion: The opening continuity of Buffy meeting Lily/Anne after saving her life in Season 2 was sweet. The Witchhunt episode had really powerful subtext: stories of deaths that aren’t even true are actually demons that possess the town and convince them to turn against their children in the name of protecting the children. It’s a good commentary on, oh, everything in society. Faith’s character arc was fantastic, and her chemistry with Buffy was off the charts (look, I may be Spuffy all the way, but Fuffy has rights). The finale was satisfying in so many ways, seeing the entire graduating class unite to destroy the Mayor and the school with it, symbolizing Buffy et al’s readiness to move on to college. Oz's relationship with Willow was very sweet and meaningful for a first romance for Willow. 

Unpopular Opinion: I actually don’t really have one. Maybe that the miracle in Amends was earned? I think you can make a decent case that Season 3 is the best written of the seasons, but can only truly be thematically appreciated to its full potential in the light of subsequent seasons (which finish Faith’s arc and deconstruct Buffy’s).  

Biggest Critique: It forgot Buffy killed the hyena guy in Season 1, making her continual insistence that she can’t kill people very ????? 

Favorite Episodes: Lovers Walk, Amends, Graduation Day Part 2 

Season 5, which ties with Season 3:

Overall Opinion: The entire season is about family and what it means, from Tara’s to Buffy’s to the Scoobies. I loved Glory aka Enoshima Junko as the Big Bad, I loved Dawn’s interesting meta commentary on retconning (like, the fact that she’s retconned in matters), and most of my ships are still alive. Joyce’s relationship with Spike is one of the most heartwarming aspects, and Spike’s arc’s desire is clearly highlighted: he wants to be seen as a person. The episodes after Joyce’s death are the most honest portrayals of grief I’ve ever seen, and absolutely brutal to watch. 

Unpopular Opinion: Buffy’s choice at the end seems a deliberate inversion of her choice at the end of Season 2 (sacrifice a loved one to save the world), but it actually isn’t: much like at the end of Season 2 where Buffy skips town because she’s devastated after killing Angel and doesn’t want to sort out being expelled, her mom knowing she’s the slayer, and her own trauma, Buffy’s sacrifice here was as much about her wanting the easy way out of relationships, family, college, etc. as it was about saving Dawn. Buffy’s death is coded as a suicide, which Season 6 emphasizes as well. 

Biggest Critique: Like Season 3, I don’t have a lot to critique here. I wish the suicidal coding had been a little more obvious in Season 5 itself, but also I’m not sure it could have been more obvious; it’s pretty apparent if you pay attention. Maybe also that Buffy and Riley’s relationship failing should have been more squarely blamed on Riley, you know, being insecure and cheating. 

Favorite Episodes: Family, Fool for Love, Intervention. 

Season 2:

Overall Opinion: Heartbreakingly tragic but exciting and revealing at the same time. It asked the viewer interesting questions about redemption and forgiveness and atonement through Angel being honest about his past, and then decided to show us his past now reenacted, challenging us. And still, we saw them save him in a parallel to saving Willow in Season 6 (but Season 2 was tragic because it wasn’t enough, while Season 6 was not). Jenny’s death was agonizing, and the scene were Angel watches Buffy, Willow, and Joyce get the news through the window was powerful. We didn’t have to hear them to get the grief. 

Unpopular Opinion: Jenny’s death isn’t a fridging; it works for her arc too when you consider her history. She worked to save the person whose life she was tasked to ruin, and it cost her her own--yet she still succeeded, because Jenny brought joy and wisdom to the show. Kendra’s death, on the other hand... was because they needed the stakes to be high--but we already knew that before she died. So, her death was useless. 

Biggest Critique: The subtext was Not It. It was essentially “do not have sex. Your older boyfriend will lose his soul, kill your friends, you’ll lose your family, your school, your home, and have to kill your true love or else hell will literally swallow earth.” 

Favorite Episodes: School Hard, Passion, Becoming Part 2.

Season 1:

Overall Opinion: I really liked it; it’s just lower on this list because the others are just better. It’s a great introduction to the series and to its characters, from Giles to Buffy to Willow to Jenny to Cordelia. It has great subtext a lot of the time (for example, Natalie French as She-Mantis is a literal predatory bug who engages in predatory behavior with students). Additionally, it subverts the typical YA trope of two guys and a girl, in which the girl is usually the least interesting character. Buffy and Willow were both fully fledged characters from the beginning with distinct strengths (even before Willow became a witch, as she wasn’t one in season 1 yet), while Xander was the more ordinary of the group. 

Unpopular Opinion/Biggest Critique: Xander’s arc showed its first flaws that unfortunately continued throughout the series: his writing was either very good or very indulgent in ways it never was for other characters.  (cough, the hyena episode, cough, in which he gets to skirt responsibility--and acknowledges that he is skirting it--for something the show will later hold others to account for). Xander’s just kind of inconsistent, which weakened his character over all. (Which is why both his love interests--Cordelia and then ultimately Anya--were good for him: they did not indulge him.) 

Favorite Episode: Witch, Nightmares. 

Season 4:

Overall Opinion: it’s still a good season. It’s a good portrayal of college and the growing pains of branching out, the strains of college growth on relationships (romantic and platonic). It shows us the first hints of Spuffy, giving us some serious Jungian symbolism between Spike and Buffy early on, and does well in establishing Xander/Anya and Willow/Tara as beautiful OTPs. Faith and Buffy’s foiling is fantastic. The Halloween episode was very fun as well. However, it suffers because its Big Bad, Adam, is not all that compelling thematically--yet, he could have been. See, the final battle pulls off the Power of Friendship in a really strong way but notably the season does not end there. Instead, it ends on dreams of each character’s worst fears, continuing what we saw in Nightmares in Season 1. Why? Because it shows us that the characters’ wars aren’t against monsters, but monsters of their own making: their flaws. Adam, as a literal Frankenstein, exemplifies this, but it wasn’t capitalized on as well as it could have been. 

Unpopular Opinion: Beer Bad isn’t a bad episode, at the very least because Buffy gets to punch Parker. It’s not one of the series’ best, obviously, but it does give Buffy an arc in that she gets her daydream of Parker begging her to come back, but she has overcome that desire and her desire for revenge. If we wanna talk about bad subtext in Season 4, Season 2′s Not It sex subtext continues in the Where the Wild Things Are episode in this season; it’s a powerful callout of abusive purity-culture churches, until the fact that the shame creates a literal curse undermines the progressive message it’s supposed to send. Also, the Thanksgiving episode (Pangs) is a nightmare of white guilt and Oh God Shut Up White People. 

Biggest Critique: Riley is awful. Like Kennedy, he had “love interest:normal” stamped on him and that was it. The thing is, he could have worked as an Angel foil, representative of the normal-life aspect of Buffy to Angel’s vampire/supernatural aspect, but the writers never explore this and seemed to even try to back away from that later on. They threw all the romantic cliches at the wall to see what sticks, from klutzy “I dropped my schoolbooks, that’s how we met” to cliché lines that had me rolling my eyes. Do you know how bad a romance has to be to make me dislike romantic tropes? 

Favorite Episodes: Fear Itself, Hush, Restless

Villain rankings: 

Dark Willow, the only villain to be truly sympathetic. While the addiction coding was insensitive and, while unsurprising for its time, aged extremely poorly. That said, Willow’s turn to the dark side after Tara’s death worked well for her character and the story: it was believable and paid off what had been building since Season 1's “Nightmares” episode (Willow’s inferiority complex). 

Glory managed to be genuinely terrifying, and humorous/enjoyable too. Her minions and their numerous nicknames for Glorificus were hilarious, as was her intense vanity. Her merging with Ben--a human being who genuinely wanted to be kind and good--added complexity and tragedy to her role. 

The First. A really good take on Satan. The seventh season as well as the First’s first appearance in season 3′s “Amends” had kind of blatant Christian symbolism, and so the First being essentially Satan works. Their disguising themselves as dead loved ones and the subtle manipulation they used to alienate people was really disturbing and well done. 

The Mayor, who was a terrible person but a truly good father. He provided an interesting contrast to the normal ‘bad dad’ bad guy character, in that he provided Faith exactly what the other characters refused to: he saw the best in her and offered her parental support, while the heroes didn’t and wound up pushing her away. 

The Trio, who were villains ahead of their time: whiny fanboy reddit dudebros, basically. The stakes seemed so much lower than fighting Glory, a literal god, the previous season. But that’s why they worked so well for Season 6′s human themes, and were especially disturbing because we all know people like them. I also appreciated the surprisingly sensitive takes on Jonathan and Andrew, who got to redeem themselves, but Warren did not, and I don’t think he should have either. 

Angelus + Drusilla. I’m ranking them below the Trio because Angelus was just sooooo different from Angel that it was difficult for me to feel the same way for him. He was still Angel, so it wasn’t possible to enjoy his villainy, but he also wasn’t nearly as sympathetic as Dark Willow, had no redeeming qualities like the Mayor, and wasn’t as disturbingly realistic as the Trio. However, the emotional stakes were excellently executed with him as the Big Bad, in that you were never quite sure how to feel and it just plain hurt. Also, Drusilla was a favorite recurring character. She was sympathetic and yet batsh*t enough to be enjoyable as a villain at the same time. 

The Master, who was just completely camp and really worked as an introductory villain. He was scary enough to believe he was a threat, and was funny enough to introduce the series’ humor as well. He was, like Glory, an enjoyable Big Bad. 

The Gentlemen, the one-off villains of Season 4′s Hush who were genuinely terrifying. It’s not as if they got a lot of explanation or any backstory, but they didn’t need it. 

Caleb, the misogynist priest. Fitting with the First’s Christian symbolism, Caleb serving as a spokesperson of all bad religious beliefs felt appropriate. He was also a good foil to Warren--being actually supernaturally powered instead of a wannabe--and to Tara’s family in being full-out evil. I despised him. 

Snyder. Okay Snyder is not a Big Bad like Adam is, but let’s face it: Adam is lame compared to the other villains. But Snyder as a principal? He was so irritating and yet really well used in the series to critique overly strict, hypocritical teachers. Like, we all know teachers like him. I loved to hate him, and his ending was so satisfying. 

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #spuffy #buffy summers #dawn summers #spike #angel #cordelia chase #btvs giles #willow rosenberg #tillow #tara maclay #anya jenkins #xanya #xander harris #jenny calendar #kendra young #faith lehane #hamliet reviews

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers: Part 4 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

synopsis: You're propelled to the heights of fame with your constant success with Suguru, but what goes up... must come down.

wc: 1.3k

tw: none (next part will be different)

masterlist

Success.

Your name and the word "success" are intertwined by the third month of your Kitsune career. With the help of Suguru, you're practically unstoppable, sniffing out criminals all over the city and bringing them out to face justice. Even the Leviathans come to admire Geto, who stands tall as redeemed and a big brother to many of the new recruits.

But even as you reach the height of your fame, there's a nagging feeling that sits in the back of your mind.

Same misery, but with a paycheck.

Same misery, but with a paycheck.

Same misery, but with a paycheck.

It's like a chant that haunts you in the middle of the night, and you lay awake most nights, thinking of escaping. But then the sun comes up, you rise from your bed, and you pretend that everything is okay for another eighteen hours.

Suguru notices your despondency and even mentions it over dinner, but you snap at him, telling him you were "fine", and leave him alone with the others. As you stalk off, you grumble to yourself and rub your temples, wondering when the feelings would subside. When you reach your barrack, you slide into your chair and begin your research for your current mission when you frown at your computer screen.

You always closed out the network of files when you left the room.

So why was the finder open?

And why was there a file sitting on your computer labeled "For Y/n"?

You click on the file hesitantly, knowing any wrong move could open a virus on your desktop, but your scanner doesn't pick up anything odd, and the file opens, revealing four documents, two videos, and two audio files.

All of them are labeled with your first and last name except for the audio files, which are labeled "One" and "Two".

You hesitate again. What is this pandora's box, you wonder internally. Should you even... your mouse drags to the first audio file and you click on it. Your sound is too low to hear the first part, so you rewind it and play it again. You hear the following words first:

"Hello, y/n," a robotic voice says, its tone flat and unmoved, and goosebumps break out across your skin. "You have shown great promise in your field as a Kitsune, and we know you feel empowered by your success. But there are some things you should know about the men and women you work for." You pause the audio file, heart thumping wildly in your chest as you consider the idea that this is either a test of loyalty or a cruel prank. Either way, you'd had enough.

You stand from your computer and walk around your room, covering your prickly flesh with clammy hands. Someone broke into your room to put files on your computer, addressed them to you, and made it seem like you were being watched by some outside source. But who would want to scare you? Who would--

"Y/n?" Suguru opens your door and gives you a look of deep concern, but you try your best to mask your look of fear. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm okay; I haven't been sleeping well," you admit, and Suguru nods, rubbing his neck nervously.

"I have something that could help you if you want. Just a sleep aid. We're given it when we start training to calm us before--"

"Sure." Geto disappears, then reappears with two pink pills.

"Take these right before bed. You'll be off to sleep in no time."

"Thanks," you reply, setting them on your bedside table and stretching. Suguru stands in your bedroom, looking at you for a second more. "I should get off to--"

"Right," he mutters, then leaves you in the room by yourself again.

_____________________________________________________________

But you don't take the pills.

Instead, you stay awake, looking at the computer screen from your bed, wondering just who would be daring enough to come into your space uninvited and place those... things on your desktop.

Curiosity eats at you for three more hours until finally, at sunup, you crack.

Keys rattle furiously under your fingertips as you type in your password and click on the first audio file yet again.

"Hello, y/n. You have shown great promise in your field as a Kitsune, and we know you feel empowered by your success. But there are some things you should know about the men and women you work for. If you wish to proceed in this endeavor, click on the first video. We know you have no reason to trust us, but we hope you will see this as a show of good faith and use the information for good. Reveal, don't conceal."

You drift over to the first video file, and a black screen comes up, the title words popping up moments later:

L/N, W. May 23. Project Kudzu Debrief.

Your father appears on the screen right after, his eyes looking dead into the camera. He's in his standard, antiquated Kitsune attire, with more hair and brighter eyes than you've ever seen. He's much younger; that you recognize instantly.

"Okay, Mr. L/n, go ahead and state your rank and case for the CSB."

"Mr. W. L/N, Kitsune, Project Kudzu."

"Thanks," a man offscreen mutters, then the sounds of flipping paper can be heard. "Now tell us about your project and what the results of it were."

"Um..." Your father shifts in his chair then rolls his neck around. "Project Kudzu is... or was, my bad." Laughs. "Project Kudzu was a ten-year effort concerning the relocation of lower-class citizens into rougher areas to produce Leviathan recruits. I spearheaded the effort with my research, and my partner, Leviathan C--" The name is bleeped out. "helped with the evictions and relocations."

"Okay," Rustling papers again. "And what were the results of this?"

"Exponential growth of the Leviathan enlistment, sir." Your father adjusts his glasses, nodding stiffly.

"Were those the desired results?"

"Yes, sir."

The screen goes black, and you stare at your open-mouthed reflection, shock flooding your veins. "Please watch the next video" pops up on your screen, and you click on it instantly, instinctively knowing who's next.

L/N, F. May 31. Project Redroot Debrief.

Your mother appears on screen, her cheeks plumper and figure fuller than it currently is. She's youthful, with long hair pinned into a bun and also in an antiquated Kitsune uniform.

"Name, rank, project," a female voice mumbles off-screen.

"Ms. F. L/N, Kitsune, Project Redroot."

"What were the aims of your project?"

"To relocate potential candidates for Kitsune potions into areas where large populations of Kitsune already reside."

"And your goal?"

"To increase Kitsune families and potential enlistment."

"How successful were you?" Your mother smirks at the camera, propping her chin upon her palm.

"How successful do you think I was?"

When the screen goes black, the taste of bile rushes into your mouth, and you rush to your bathroom, shoving a mouthful of toothpaste and your toothbrush onto your teeth. Something you can control, something you can control. But even your toothbrushing - which is normally a soothing habit - can't wipe away the look on your mother's face at her triumph. Project Kudzu... Project Redroot...

How could your parents be a part of something so sinister? Making the poor poorer and the elite... more elite?

These videos have to be fake, you tell yourself, circling back to the computer. But when you look up the metadata- which is neatly scrubbed of any trace of third parties - you see that they are in fact originals of the interview.

Finally, you take a look at the documents, the insignia and red letters "CONFIDENTIAL TS_CO" watermarked on the endless pages. TS_CO= Top Secret Clearance Only. This is above your paygrade, and exponentially so. But as you skim the redacted information, you see names, dates, your parent's names, their information, metrics, graphs, everything that you need to know that Project Redwood and Kudzu aren't fake.

They're real.

And they both happened right before you were born.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @jsqeeut @r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @girlruby23 @rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @chanelmalandro @savantsoulfinder @jibe-gajima @chilledlucifer @amnxsia @kontentious @fuyuko26 @everybodylovescayrayray @flare-on

#geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen getou #getou x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru #jjk geto #jujutsu kaisen

[wingz-of-shit]

Nowhere to grieve

I messed up but here was the ask by anon: Hello there... I'm broken. 139.. it just wasn't right at all. Is it selfish that I wanted levihan? All the signs are there (plane, "heart" and all) but it doesn't feel like a proper goodbye? Do you have Levi HC after the war? But before the three years skip? Good day

*

Hmm, hi anon. If you expected me to fix that heart of yours, well you're mistaken. I love angsty HC. And that chapter 139 certainly helped with the writer's block. And this is why I put this together for you. Brace yourself.

Nowhere to grieve

Summary: Armin helps Levi cope with his grief after the war

Words: 1200

Armin looked over his shoulder at the man that once stood as humanity's strongest. He was now wheeling himself toward the mess hall, painfully aware of the physical condition he was in. As commander of the corps, Armin found out that the job didn't only mean leading soldiers into battles like he might have thought at the beginning of his career; it also meant caring and worrying for them. The former commander certainly taught him so. For all the years Hange Zoe had been commander, Armin had never worried about being left alone. He had found a family. A bizarre one, but still. A family. And now the eldest member of this family was in pain.

"Did Heichou eat today?" Armin asked Jean. The latest shook his head looking equally worried. "He refused. Says he's not hungry."

"Understandable."

Understandable indeed. Ymir's curse had been broken for less than a month, and a month was not enough at all to grieve decades' worth of dead people. Armin had checked the records and felt sick when the Titan War's number of victims came out. There were many citizens alright, most of them were from Shiganshina, all those years ago. But the ones who had suffered the most were the survey corps.

Shinzou wo sasageyo.

"What can we do?" Jean asked.

"Find out the reason he's like this?" Armin mumbled, although, he knew the reason why his Heichou was acting this way. He'd seen the fleeting looks between his two superiors, he'd seen the closeness. Hange Zoe, former Commander, was the reason his Captain had not recovered yet.

When Armin was chosen as the next commander, he had considered it as a promotion, or a pride. But then, in the small time that was a month, he'd understood that no one should endure the job of Commander. It all stood on mental strength. Which one of them would be the last to break? Which one of them was the most likely to think with their brain and not their heart? Which one of them was ready to die for the cause?

"I think I know what to do." Armin hesitantly walked towards his Captain, well to his subordinate, and laid a hand on his shoulder. Never before had he had such an intimate touch for the man who jerked away at the intrusion.

"Arlert." His icy gaze pierced his soul and all confidence was shattered away. "The fuck you want?"

"I'd like to show you something." He gestured at the wheelchair's handles. "May I?" Levi nodded his head suspiciously. Armin focused on his breathing and began to calmly talk.

"I know you don't agree with how things were done. Many don't. But I don't think there was a right way to ever end this war. You may say there were other options but if you consider each one of them it always seems to lead to a massacre. We've tried talking with Marley before. Hange San tried to do that. It led to betrayal. It led to where we stand today. Captain... I don't know if this can be any comfort but those who are dead were probably meant to be. It's thanks to their faith, to their sacrifice that the war ended at last. And it hurts, I'm not pretending to know half of your grief but I still lost many friends in this battle. And I rather think of them with a proud smile. Look at us: it's finally over and- "

"Tch." Armin looked at Levi surprised. "Sounds like a happy ending to you." He turned around in the wheelchair. "I knew you more intelligent than that Arlert."

A happy ending? A fucking happy ending? How could this ever be a happy ending. "Look, I'm trying to see the best of what's left. It's not easy but I have hope. And hope will lead this world to brighter days, I'm sure. If I lose hope then yes, the battle will be truly lost." Armin walked at a faster pace towards the cemetery. "I lost my best friend, I lost so many people I cared for... The come out of this war is not a happy ending. It's sad and we're alive. But do we have to make this life a nightmare? Can't we just pretend that...it's going to be okay, and maybe it's even worth it?"

There was a long silence then. Only the quivering of leaves in the wind filled the space. It waltzed over the grassy road and rushed to the large area covered in white crosses far away. The military cemetery.

"They would have wanted for us to be happy. She would have." Armin added carefully; he watched closely as a shiver shook Levi's body at the mention of the pronoun.

"What are we even doing here?" Levi asked when they reached the cemetery. He could see the skepticism in his eyes. Levi hadn't visited the cemetery once since they came back. He hadn't come to the ceremony where they said every single name of their fallen comrades.

"It's time for a little prayer Captain."

"A prayer?" He paused startled. "Do I really have to?"

"Yes, Captain. Let's find a tombstone." Now Armin could see the hurt in his eyes.

"Is this a joke? She's not here, remember?" His voice was cold and bitter, but it was mainly grief that Armin heard.

"We're going to pretend. And they're all together anyway, what difference does it make?"

He strolled through the white crosses. "It's nice to say goodbye. It's important. "Here, these are nice. I'll leave you alone to it."

Levi stared in disbelief at Arlert's back as he was hastily walking away. Had he really brought him here? And asked him to say goodbye? To whom? To her? He looked back at the white cross, the name on it echoed in his mind. He'd known this person, a soldier that died on their very first expedition years ago.

They're all together anyway.

Levi rolled his eye. He was actually going to talk to the cross. He closed his eye and let the vision he forced away every night fill his mind. And there she was, smiling brightly at him after nearly having her head bitten off by Sawney or Bean or whatever fucking titan. And then he could see her riding fiercely ahead of him to the ocean. And then he could feel the warmth of her skin when they were away from gazes. He could hear her voice in all its mood: happiness, grief, anguish, love. And then he could see the sparks surrounding her form and engulfing her in the flames of eternal rest.

"I miss you. He paused

I had a dream about you the other night... you know that cabin in the forest? It was warm.

And..." Levi stopped talking, the lump in his throat had grown too overwhelming. Stupid Arlert. This was his fault.

The way back to the SC's building was shorter than Levi had expected, his mind was filled with memories. Could he have the life they all fought for? Could it have meaning without them? Her?

Shinzou wo sasageyo.

He'd try. For them. For her.

Right then the wind rose again and ruffled his hair in a familiar way. Levi looked around, he was sure he had felt her. May it be a ghost or a spirit, she was looking over him.

*

*

Who wants to cry with me now?

Update: I saw this post and it's kinda the same vibe haha, check it out too.

#who wants to cry too? #I'm going to hell #bye #levihan #levi ackerman #snk #hange zoe #rivai ackerman #hanji zoe

[snarkywrites]

Mars Direct: Moving Forward

Mars will finally be direct on Friday, November 13th, 2020. With this planet now being able to move forward, it marks a time where we can put plans into motion once more and feel the motivation needed to get ahead. While direct, Mars will be uncomfortable for a short period of time as it readjusts and makes its way towards the sign of Taurus. If you have felt stagnant or unmotivated, things will begin to pick up now that Mars has an aim, and it can focus on completing some goals from earlier in the year. This is the awakening of the long retrograde slumber as we open our eyes once again and start to see the path with clearer and more refreshed eyes. Mars likes to keep it moving, so get busy as we wait for the Saturn and Jupiter shift into Aquarius next month. We prepare to bid adieu to this fiery planet as the collective gets ready for one more month before the new year.

Aries – If you have felt like a volcano for months and have erupted in anger, Mars direct will be a godsend for you. Now is the perfect time to channel your anger, frustrations, or lack of motivation into a new project, find better solutions at work or get more focused in school. Mars direct puts you back on track to your path or any goals you were contemplating back in June.

Taurus – To those who have felt their motivation drop to unexpected levels, Mars direct will allow you to pick yourself up and find a new sense of inspiration in the dark. There will be a renewed spark and faith in what you create and your choices. Although it will be tough to accept at first, you will feel content with the solution.

Gemini – The energies of Mars will have you feeling on edge with others but with Mars direct, you can see guidance in those who you work with or even friends. You can feel passionate to fight for social causes to make changes that help society. On the other hand, your own friends might serve as a source of inspiration to help build and create a better future.

Cancer – Any pressures you have faced at work will be alleviated as Mars goes direct. You can begin to see the fruits of your labor through praise and accolades from superiors. This month will have you contemplating your next steps and figuring out ways to be better and do better. Success is in your eyes and you are not the type to give up until you win the prize.

Leo – Once again you feel inspired by a topic either at school or on your own. To learn, grow and expand will be on your mind. Mars direct will have you feeling encouraged to research or want to understand in depth the things that interest you. You might come across as extremely passionate to those who are trying to teach you since you will just be filled with an abundance of energy and motivation at this time.

Virgo – Empowerment is a word for your experiences during this Mars transit. Now that the planet is direct, you will be more willing to let go and move on without feeling the need to carry onto pain. This is your opportunity to start anew since Mars gets ready to leave Aries, no longer stirring those problematic memories from the past. We all should prepare for brighter days as we wave goodbye to Mars in 2021.

Libra –The tensions ease with Mars finally direct no longer opposing your sign. The war is beginning to end, and you can start to feel a little more like yourself again. A sense of confidence and empowerment fills you. Reaching a compromise with others and promoting solutions in a peaceful manner will flow easily. Venus is still in your sign, so this can be a month of forgiveness and new beginnings.

Scorpio – There will be a new direction in the way you view yourself and how you plan to move forward in the future. Mars direct means you will now have the opportunity to focus on yourself and your well being. Nothing will stop you this time around since you have that focus and drive to achieve and succeed in the work front. Make sure to take those breaks when you need it since Mars can easily burn anyone out.

Sagittarius – You can begin to get to work on that incredible idea you had planned at the beginning of the summer. With Mars Direct, you can see your vision clearer, no longer second guessing your ability but feeling confident in what you make. This can also be an excellent time to leap into a new romance or give that special someone you have been eyeing a chance at love.

Capricorn – Tensions begin to get easier as you once again focus on your hopes and dreams. If there was a sense of fiery chaos at home, you now feel like you have reclaimed your sense of control. This will be the perfect time to channel all this newfound energy into a project that involves renovating the home or your workspace. Productivity will keep you peaceful and happy.

Aquarius – Finally, with this planet going direct you will feel like you have a better grasp on your thought process. Creatives will benefit from this since they will be able to channel their ideas into new and more fruitful ventures. Now is the time to prepare yourself for the motivation that is to come. Expect to get more serious about what you want to make and what you are trying to achieve.

Pisces – Mars direct will have you analyzing your power moves. You will feel more settled and focused on your path. The lingering sense of fear will slowly diminish as you begin to step into your own power by regaining confidence. Your empowerment now will lead you onto the upcoming year. Continue to stay strong.

#Astrology #Mars Direct #Mars Retrograde #Aries #Taurus #Gemini #Cancer #Leo #Virgo #Libra #Scorpio #Sagittarius #Capricorn #Aquarius #Pisces

[malkumtend]

I Like Your Laugh - A SquirrelCrow AU - Chapter 21.

Squirrelpaw tried not to look at her surroundings as she followed her father.

It was strange. She could remember the first time she had attended a gathering. The freedom of leaving Thunderclan for the first time, following her clan beyond their borders, it gave her such a sense of pride.

She remembered seeing flowers and trees she couldn’t identify, the mist of new scents hitting her like a colourful zephyr. It was like Silverpelt itself had been struck by a unique current that would change her life forever. The forest had expanded beyond her own understanding, pulsing her with the exhilaration and excitement of growing up.

Now. The change of the forest was not so freeing. Looking at it now felt more like drowning.

Without the shelter of the trees, exposing them to the bite of the moonhigh night, everything felt so cold. Nowhere looked safe to the molly. This wasn’t travelling to fourtrees, this wasn’t clan life. This wasn’t normal. The bitter air clogged in her throat, and without looking down she could feel the deadness of the earth below. Life had been sucked out of the forest as if it was prey losing blood. With it, everything Squirrelpaw recognised in her heart had been extinguished. Nothing looked like home.

The trees, the ground, the cold, it was all so suffocating. Frightening.

This wasn’t the forest she’d grown up in. Not anymore.

That would become even more clear once she saw fourtrees, she had no doubt. At least… what remained of fourtrees.

Webfoot had said the clans had watched as monsters ripped them from their roots. Generations of history stripped away just like that. It was inconceivable to the young cat. But it had happened. She had heard it from her friends too.

“It was horrible.” Whitepaw had said. “None of us could believe it. The monsters tore them apart.” The horror on her face told Squirrelpaw how grotesque the images were.

Beside them, Shrewpaw had nodded. “It didn’t make any sense.” The softness the usually snappy tom conveyed made another chill strike through the medicine den. “They didn’t even react to them. They just… ripped through them like they were nothing. By the time we looked back, they’d all fallen.” He’d stifled an angry grunt, “Then by the next day, they’d carried away the trunks. How strong are those things?”

Strong enough to tear apart the forest, Squirrelpaw knew.

“Are you sure you want to go back there?” Whitepaw mewed worriedly, “What if they come back?” Her whiskers trembled with fear.

“Don’t worry.” Squirrelpaw strutted forward to press her muzzle against her friend’s cheek. “I’ll be fine. Firestar and Brambleclaw will be there with me, as well as the other Clan leaders. Besides, I don’t think they’ll go back now.”

“How do you know that?”

Truthfully, Squirrelpaw didn’t, but the cats were going to meet there regardless. She couldn’t worry about that now.

Luckily, Shrewpaw came to her aid. “Don’t be a worry worm, Whitepaw.” The tom jabbed her with a forepaw. “If they were that close again, we would have heard them. Besides, remember what Greystripe said, they seem to be more focused on Windclan’s territory right now.”

Whitepaw seemed to relax a little, albeit begrudgingly, at that information.

Squirrelpaw only felt her stomach twist with panic.

She felt her sister’s tail on her pelt, Leafpaw could always tell when something was off. A different panic convulsed along Squirrelpaw’s tail. “Don’t worry, Squirrelpaw. From what I’ve heard, Windclan have been able to find new territory. There’s no cats where the monsters are now.”

“Yeah!” Shrewpaw agreed readily, perhaps sensing his words weren’t as comforting as he’d hoped. “Windclan cats are quick right, they’ll have gotten away fine.” Whitepaw rolled her eyes at his weak conclusion, but she didn’t say anything.

It was a small comfort, but Squirrelpaw couldn’t afford to choose. She flattened the fur on her tail, licking her chest to quell the nervous shakes that still rattled in her stomach. She let a forced smile come to her lips. “Yeah, I guess.”

Leafpaw purred beside her, “You’ll see. Once you’re at fourtrees tonight, you’ll be able to hear how the other clans are. Firestar will convince them that we have to leave, you’ll see.” As soothing as her sister’s voice usually was, Squirrelpaw wasn’t so assured this time. She’d seen how hostile the Windclan cats had been when they’d all returned, even to their own clanmate. Even in the middle of all this, clan divisions still ran rife. Would they really listen to a prophecy fortold by a few Warriors and a badger?

Could a truce really be found? It wasn’t even going to be a full moon tonight.

Squirrelpaw let her tail lay flat. She had to believe her friends could convince their leaders. Her and Brambleclaw had been able to convince Firestar after all.

She had to have hope.

“Exactly!” Shrewpaw mewed with a grin, he seemed to brighten as every pair of eyes fell on him. His tail wiggled behind him with a confident movement that seemed warm in the cold den. “If anyone can lead the clans out of this mess, it’s Firestar! Mark my words, by the next moon we’ll all be nice and snug at our new home!”

His voice was high and kittish, but by the stars was his optimism missed. Thinking back, Squirrelpaw remembered how even behind their slitted eyes, both Leafpaw and Whitepaw were smiling. Even if Shrewpaw was a mouse-brain most of the time, it was undeniable that what he believed was what they all wanted. If he saw a future brighter than the one they all expected, it was only natural they’d follow him there.

Even if he sounded naïve, he had a faith that Squirrelpaw knew the cats would need.

That’s what she tried to tell herself again and again, with every step through this destroyed terrain. That was why she kept her eyes away from it all. Looking at it just made Shewpaw’s voice grow fainter and fainter as if it was disappearing into a dark cave.

And it wasn’t just her. Just ahead, Brambleclaw padded behind her father and Cinderpelt. The tom occasionally looked back to check on her, and Squirrelpaw could see how meaningless his smile was. She knew how Brambleclaw really showed himself. The sag in his whiskers, the alarmed prickles over his back, the roll of his jaw, back and forth without control.

He kept a brave face, but he was frightened.

They were all frightened.

She realised, when she noticed his face shift as he looked ahead, that he was only smiling at her in order to comfort her worries.

A nice thought, but pointless all the same.

All she could do was give him the same worthless smile.

She was home, back with her clanmates and father, and yet she felt so… alone. She could still picture the harsh glares sent her way. As if she was a traitor for trying to help her clan. But maybe it wasn’t so surprising. The thought of her mentor, the cat she thought of as the strongest in all Thunderclan, broken and shrivelled by the loss of his kit. Everyone was suffering. That was why this had to go well. Starclan had to give them a chance, a glimpse of hope after all of this.

It had to come.

It had to.

A gasp of horror broke her from her misery. “Oh Starclan, no!” Brambleclaw choked.

Squirrelpaw looked up and regretted it immediately.

Fourtrees, the heart of the forest itself, was gone. The ancient columns of wood that once stood tall and triumphant, as if breaking through the clouds, were now nothing more but hollow circles of wood, barely reaching a leader’s height. The places where cats would gather, pacified by the truce, were scorched and blackened by the trail of the twolegs destruction. The ground was now a sickening black, littered by sharp stones and torn shreds of wood. Even the brilliant glow of the moon paled away behind a murk of ashy clouds holding its light from the cats below.

Squirrelpaw stared ahead, her jaw slack in horror. It hit her just then why the clans had been so hostile to their return. If they had seen this so long ago… It was as if a piece of the clans itself had been killed.

But what was even worse was the sight of the Great rock.

If it could even be called that anymore.

Instead of the stone that had seen proud leaders pass moon by moon, all Squirrelpaw saw was a scatter of cats sunken in a thick ooze of mud that shrouded the base of the Great rock. It had been clawed out of its place; Squirrelpaw could still see the deep rivets the monsters had marked the stone with at its base. Now, the noble stone lay on its side, discarded like the forgotten bones of a mouse. The seasons it had stood withered in the past, and its future now lurked inside an empty, lost void.

A harsh growl Squirrelpaw recognised as belonging to Blackstar confirmed sullenly what every cat realised. There would be no more gatherings. That part of their lives had been taken from them all.

Squirrelpaw wondered if that meant the truce was over as well.

She was given a slight hope when she saw Brambleclaw rush forward with an overjoyed cry. “Tawnypelt!”

Squirrelpaw couldn’t help but smile, properly this time, when she saw the siblings collide, both purring in relief. Anything that could remind her of the journey was a welcome sight. She bounded over as well, and saw Stormfur beside the Shadowclan molly. Squirrelpaw was about to burst with his name until she saw the wounded look in his eyes.

And then she remembered Feathertail, and her smile faded away.

She padded, a little more slowly, towards her friends. There was a low growl in the air and Squirrelpaw was shocked when she saw who it came from. Firestar was watching Brambleclaw, still buried in his sisters’ neck, with narrowed eyes. Eyes that were judging his loyalty.

Squirrelpaw watched her father until he swiped his head away, grunting. Squirrelpaw glared at him as he stormed away. Was he still angry at Brambleclaw because he had let her come? Or was this something else? The molly shook her head. How could any cat judge their loyalty after all they had been through? Tawnypelt was Brambleclaw’s sister for crying out loud, did their clans really have to mean that changed so much?

She wandered through the heavy silence, following the cats until she was at Stormfur’s side. “Hey.” She said softly, pressing her nose against his shoulder.

The grey cat turned to her gently, his eyes were glazed and distant. “Hey.” He paused. The silence was terrifying. They had spoken so easily before. He breathed haggardly. “How are things in Thunderclan?”

“Not great.” Squirrelpaw admitted. Even that was an understatement. She tried not to sound downhearted. “We need to leave soon. What about Riverclan?”

“It looks like the Twolegs haven’t reached our territory yet.”

Squirrelpaw’s eyes lit up. “That’s…” She was about to say ‘great’ until she saw the weariness in her friends’ eyes.

Stormfur sighed, he looked small. “It’s coming, I know it. But because Riverclan hasn’t suffered yet, I can’t convince Leopardstar of anything.”

Squirrelpaw’s mouth opened as she realised the gravity of that knowledge. She knew about Leopardstar. Truthfully, the young molly had never had a pleasant thought when it came to the leader. She knew the stories that surrounded her, the whispers of what had once occurred during the time of Tigerstar. The story of Bone Hill was a well-known horror story among the apprentices.

Only this story was more than just fantasy.

Squirrelpaw had never understood it. How any leader could betray their clan to another and just live on without any consequences? She remembered asking her father about it when she was a kit. What justifiable reason could any leader have for doing something like that?

“It’s a complicated story, Squirrelkit.” He had said. “Sometimes leader’s think they’re doing the right thing for their clan when in fact they’re doing the wrong thing. But that doesn’t mean that they are bad cats at heart. A leader will do anything to make sure their clan survives. The important thing is to move on from those mistakes and learn to forgive.”

That might have meant something, if Squirrelpaw hadn’t remembered the story of how Leopardstar had just sat and watched while, the then, Blackfoot had killed her deputy. How exactly was that protecting your clan?

Squirrelpaw remembered then how it had been Feathertail and Stormfur that Stonefur had been protecting.

She wondered how they did it. How they could trust a leader that had agreed to their deaths?

And now, after all of that trust, Feathertail was dead and Stormfur was telling her that Leopardstar wouldn’t lead her clan to safety?!

Her heart swelled with horror. “Is there no cat who you could convince? What about Mistyfoot?”

“Mistyfoot’s gone.” Stormfur said simply.

“Gone?” Squirrelpaw had to fight to keep her voice low. Terror widened in her eyes, “You don’t mean-”

“We don’t know” Stormfur clarified, but his mew was rough with fear.

A thought came to Squirrelpaw. “What if she was captured by Twolegs?”

Stormfur turned to her blinking. “What? What do you mean?”

“I heard that some cats had been taken by them!”

“What for?”

Squirrelpaw could only give him a frightened silence. Stormfur turned back, his face creased by the moonhigh shadows. His head dipped with a pained whine. “Starclan help us.”

“But… But Riverclan wouldn’t leave without their deputy, right?” Every leader needed their deputy. Surely Leopardstar realised that! She wouldn’t just abandon one of her most trusted Warriors.

Now, a glistening anger came into Stormfur’s face. “We have a new deputy.” He hissed, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

Squirrelpaw paused, her jaw was stiff. Leopardstar really would do that. “W-Who?”

The grey tom jutted his head forward, reluctant hate in his eyes. “Hawkfrost.”

Squirrelpaw didn’t recognise the name until she was looking ahead. She could just about remember the bulky rogue that had been accepted by Riverclan. He strode ahead, far away from them, beside Leopardstar and another huge creamy molly that she remembered as being his sister. Mothwing? That was the name that Leafpaw had told her at least. From what she had heard, her sister only had good things to say about the molly. She hadn’t mentioned her brother that much. But he was a deputy now? Squirrelpaw tried to understand how that could have happened.

“Leopardstar made him deputy? Why?”

Stormfur opened his mouth, but he soon shut it as they made their way to the other side of the stone.

Squirrelpaw’s paws prickled in frustration. “Stormfur, I-”

She fell silent as she saw the cats waiting by the low dip of the uprooted stone.

It was Tallstar… wasn’t it? Squirrelpaw tried to think of the leader of Windclan, the one who had seen leaders come and go all through his reign, the one who had already led Windclan for moons while her father was still an apprentice. Even in the last time she’d seen him, despite Windclan’s dismal water situation, he had looked strong and noble as he stood high on the Great rock. Squirrelpaw respected him immensely. There had always been something about Tallstar, about how naturally and respectfully stood among the other leaders, how he put his clan before his pride. That much had been clear when he’d begged Riverclan to share their water supply without hesitation.

He was prideful without being arrogant, respectful without being weak, and strong without being cruel.

But what Squirrelpaw saw now. This was not the Tallstar she remembered.

She didn’t think she’d ever seen a cat look so skinny, so hungry! His eyes sank into the hollow shape of his head, blinking listlessly in the cold darkness. He looked to be missing several small patches of his short fur along his belly, the fur that remained was dirty and uncared for. Squirrelpaw could picture when she had gone through the two-leg place on the journey, she had seen a dead mouse resting on the stone outside a two-leg den. It had clearly been killed a while ago. It looked like a shrivelled root, its precious moisture and juices squeezed out by the hot sun above them. She’d asked why the cat that had killed it hadn’t eaten it. What was the point of killing it if it wasn’t going to be used?

“Some kittypet’s just like the sport of it.” Tawnypelt muttered in disgust. “They don’t need it for food with all the feed they get from the two-legs. Hunting’s just a game for them.”

That had made Squirrelpaw angry. Not only because it showed just how dishonourable and easy a kittypet’s life was, but because of how little they regarded their prey. Prey meant survival in the forest, cats died because of hunger, and these two-leg playthings just killed because it was nothing but fun, exercise, for their sluggish lives.

They had killed a creature, and had left it to rot and decay like it was nothing.

Tallstar reminded Squirrelpaw of that mouse. Of something unwanted and forgotten, left to waste away in its own time. He looked as if his own guts were shrinking, leaving him to become nothing but a thin slather of skin and fur on a wasted pile of bones.

He could barely even stand. He tried to look strong in the face of the other leaders, but it was clear the only reason he was standing up was because he was balanced by the small tom beside him.

Even in the darkness, Squirrelpaw recognised the tom. It might have been the way he stubbornly kept his small frame tall, as if nothing in the forest could touch him. It might have been the glow of his eyes.

Squirrelpaw took a deep breath. The last time she’d seen those eyes, they had kept hollow as he gently pushed her away, like nothing had ever happened. She tried to not remember how much it made her heart break. Instead she tried to take comfort in how despite everything he looked healthy. Maybe even dignified as he held his leader close beside him, never shivering away. She watched as he turned, watching the other clans approach them.

Even from this far back, she offered him a loving smile.

Whether he noticed her or not, his eyes narrowed and he stiffened up, his tail prickling, as if warning them. Then after a mutter from Tallstar, he slackened and turned his head away.

A real sense of fear began to rumble in Squirrelpaw’s chest. It thundered beside the pain.

Crowpaw only kept his eyes on his leader until the rest of the clans had made it to where they stood. Squirrelpaw saw Stormfur’s coat shiver when he passed by the Windclan tom. Crowpaw had a similar reaction, but his face was contorted in a scowl. Stormfur cleared his throat, as if ridding himself of a sickness, and said nothing as he sat beside Tawnypelt, a tail-length away from the dark apprentice.

Squirrelpaw held back a horrified breath. She understood how Feathertail still loomed over their thoughts. She would never forget her as long as she lived. But when she thought about how it had hardly been a moon since she had seen Crowpaw and Stormfur side by side, talking with a growing friendliness, the sight of such stiffness now was confusing to the molly.

Come to think of it, as the leaders pulled themselves up onto the shifted slab that had been the great rock, her heart aching with pity as she saw how Tallstar needed her father’s help to struggle onto the platform, she began to feel something tight in her chest at how her friends shifted uncomfortably as they sat together.

Like they had never even met.

She gulped and shook her head. It didn’t have to be like this. She still had that power surely. She eased herself to the side of Crowpaw, whispering to him as the leaders began to talk. “Hey.” She mewed. She was smiling. It still felt right next to him.

He gave her a sideways glance. It was barren. Squirrelpaw pushed away the memory of their last meeting. She had to move forward.

“Hello.” He said, then he looked back to the leaders.

Squirrelpaw hoped the disappointment didn’t show on her face. But her heart began to pound with a creeping panic. She took a quick breath and followed his stare. “How are things in Windclan?” She asked, trying not to cringe as she saw Tallstar shake off the worried mews of her father.

To her surprise, she found the other chosen cats had heard her, and they all turned to Crowpaw hopefully.

Crowpaw didn’t meet any cats’ eyes. His tail swung hotly as if he was trying to thaw a coat of ice. “Awful. Windclan can’t stay there anymore.” He said with dreadful assurance. It made Squirrelpaw scared. He looked so defeated.

“What about your clanmates?” Brambleclaw asked hazily.

“You can’t call it Windclan anymore.” Crowpaw said icily, ignoring Brambleclaw. “There’s nothing left of our territory.”

There were no implications. His voice was slow and stony with the plain truth.

“But that means that Tallstar wants to leave, right?” Brambleclaw spoke up again.

“Yes.” Crowpaw said. “He knows there’s nothing left for us here.”

Squirrelpaw felt her whiskers curl with a bizarre relief. If Tallstar would allow Windclan to go, that made things so much easier for this meeting! Now it wouldn’t just be her father arguing for them all! “That’s great news! Firestar’s just waiting for the other clans to decide before he says anything.”

Crowpaw scoffed bitterly. “We can’t afford to wait.”

Squirrelpaw’s paws began to quiver again. She began to notice the lack of warmth as she stood by Crowpaw’s side.

She breathed again. Time. She reminded herself. He needs time. She had to picture how much he was going through. She couldn’t just pull a cat out of their grief. She wasn’t over it, she couldn’t just expect him to be with all his clan was going through.

“Blackstar’s ready to leave as well.” Tawnypelt said quietly.

“He is?” Brambleclaw mewed. Squirrelpaw saw the rising hope in his face.

Tawnypelt just looked bleak. “I think he made his mind up before I even came back.”

A silence followed. “But… did he believe you when you mentioned the prophecy?” Stormfur asked hesitantly.

Tawnypelt said nothing.

That was enough for their hope to fade.

It only got worse as Stormfur confirmed what most had expected. Leopardstar didn’t want to leave the clans. Squirrelpaw wasn’t so surprised by this when he mentioned how Riverclan’s territory hadn’t been affected by the Twolegs.

‘Yet’. She thought regrettably.

She tried to force understanding into her heart. If their land was safe and their prey was running well, then it only made sense for Leopardstar to want to remain. Why would she leave when she saw no threat to her clan?

But Squirrelpaw wondered if the leader had actually opened her eyes?

Had she not seen what was going on around them? Had she not paid attention to the loss of four-trees? She was standing on the ruined remains of the Great stone, wasn’t she? Did she really not think that this was going to find her clan sooner or later?

“Leopardstar’s convinced the Two-legs will never reach our territory.” Stormfur admitted, there was a thick clog of fright and dismay in his voice. He looked beyond drained and Squirrelpaw shivered at what Stormfur must have been subjected to when he was trying to convince his leader.

Tawnypelt looked like she was about to rub her shoulder against the grey Warrior’s, but she stopped at the last moment. Nervously, she kept in place. “Can’t she be convinced?”

“If Mistystar was here, maybe?” Stormfur flinched as if he’d been burnt. “But Hawkfrost isn’t convinced we’re in any danger either.” The grey warrior coughed to burn away the growl in his throat. “He… He told me I was a traitor for even going on the journey in the first place when I wasn’t even chosen.”

Squirrelpaw jerked where she sat, her mouth dry with disbelief. She turned, glaring at the so-called Riverclan Deputy. He sat looking up at the leaders, his mouth rested in a smooth frown. His icy blue eyes seemed to peer through the night like the predatory glare of a fox. He didn’t appear to notice the angry molly as he kept still apart from the cool sway of his tail.

A growl dripped over Squirrelpaw’s fangs. Stormfur had been a clan cat long before this mongrel had showed up, and he had the gall to call him a traitor?! “What does he know?” She hissed in a tight whisper. “Why would Leopardstar even let some rogue become Deputy anyway?”

She soon wished she’d never asked.

Crowpaw was staring at the Deputy, as well, with such a burning flame of hatred that Squirrelpaw found her own anger cool in her shock. Stormfur had begun to shiver in his own spot, a pounding shame on his muzzle.

“Was that his reward after he lied to Leopardstar?” Crowpaw hissed, twisting to face Stormfur. The tom’s teeth were bare in a creased snarl.

Stormfur couldn’t meet his eyes, “I-I don’t…” He trailed off and that seemed to make Crowpaw angrier.

“Don’t what?” He hissed. “Don’t understand what your clan’s done?!”

Brambleclaw stepped ahead, blocking Stormfur from Crowpaw’s view. His amber eyes looked down on the apprentice warningly. “Crowpaw, calm down. What’s going on?”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Crowpaw was barely keeping his voice low enough to not alert the leaders. His eyes blazed in the dark. “That fox-hearted rogue told Leopardstar that Windclan was stealing prey from Riverclan. Now she’s forbidden us from using the lake!”

“What?” Squirrelpaw squeaked.

“You heard me.” Crowpaw didn’t look back. His back arched, fur shaking with fury. “How are we supposed to survive without water?”

Squirrelpaw began to understand Crowpaw’s anger a little easier. The memory of Tallstar begging for Windclan came back, the reality of desperation in his actions, and now Leopardstar had made it all for nothing. She thought back to Webfoot and that skinny apprentice she’d seen when she’d come back, and apprehension surged in her legs. They hadn’t even been able to drink for who knew how long. No wonder Tallstar was ready to leave the forest.

Brambleclaw seemed to settle at the realisation of this information. He sighed deeply, already sounding softer.

“I’m sorry, Crowpaw. But there’s nothing I can do.” Stormfur said, “Leopardstar believes his story.” There was a quiver at the end of his voice.

Crowpaw caught it, his tail thumped against the ground. “And do you?”

Stromfur flinched, “I never said that.”

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“Crowpaw, please!” Brambleclaw pressed stepping forward again. Despite the pity in his eyes, he still kept his voice firm. Crowpaw eased back a little but his mood didn’t waver. “I get how you feel, but Stormfur can’t change Leopardstar’s decision.”

“So Windclan cats should just die of thirst then because of some lies?” Crowpaw muttered indignantly. Then he began to stare at Brambleclaw a little more. “Or do you believe that rogue as well?”

Brambleclaw sighed, “Crowpaw-”

“We. Didn’t. Steal.” Crowpaw snarled out, “And if we did it’s because we didn’t have a choice! My clan shouldn’t be left for dead because of that. You never saw them.”

Squirrelpaw suddenly remembered the first time she saw Crowpaw. How he had lunged at Brambleclaw after they’d found his patrol… stealing.

She shook her head. It didn’t matter. Stealing prey didn’t mean a whole clan had to go without food or water. If Thunderclan was in such a position could she honestly say she wouldn’t do the same thing. Every clan had elders and mothers to feed. And this wasn’t a usual time for any clan, they couldn’t let any cat grow weak now. She couldn’t help but understand Crowpaw’s anger.

After all, it wasn’t that surprising to her.

The pure anger and quick blame in his tone; it was a Crowpaw she knew but still didn’t recognise.

“Your clan is not the only one that’s suffering, Crowpaw.” Tawnypelt cut in, casting a narrowed glance at the apprentice.

Crowpaw stood there for a moment, then he only hissed and turned away, staring at his paws. “No. But they may be the only one’s who can’t make it.” He didn’t need to lookback at his leader to prove his point.

Every cat fell silent again.

No cat may have noticed the flicker behind his anger, the trembling in his tail, but Squirrelpaw knew what she saw.

He was hurting. So much.

She couldn’t stop herself. She stepped towards him, hoping to swell her fur with warmth, and pressed her side against his. A small comfort, but one she wanted to give him nonetheless. It wasn’t because she… Well, nevermind. No. Windclan was on the verge of ruin and Crowpaw looked like he was trying to balance it all on his shoulders. Her pelt gingerly rubbed his and she swallowed down the stuttering in her chest. “I’m so sorry, Crowpaw. If there’s anything Thunderclan can do, I’m sure Firestar will-”

Her pelt went cold as Crowpaw stepped away with a low growl. He wouldn’t face her as he spat towards the ground. “I don’t need your pity. I’ll make sure that Windclan survives this, with or without the other clans.”

Squirrelpaw stared.

She stared and stared and stared.

The cat beside her didn’t look back once. Squirrelpaw blinked to check if she was seeing things correctly. This cat had the dark fur, the sleek frame and the blue eyes of Crowpaw, but this couldn’t be him surely. She knew he was moody, she knew he was in pain, and she knew how they weren’t beside each other by the sun-drown place anymore.

But this… even after the cold goodbye and the distance he had drawn…

No. He sounded genuinely angry this time.

At her.

That wasn’t Crowpaw. That hadn’t been her… After everything…

What was going on?

“Don’t be like that!” Tawnypelt snapped through her teeth. Crowpaw growled at her. “I’m sorry Crowpaw, but you’re being foolish if you think any clan will survive without the rest of us! Did you learn nothing from the journey?”

“Tawnypelt!” Her brother pleaded, “Please! We’re here for a sign! If we fight now, we can’t show Starclan that the clans will work together!” His amber eyes burst with pain at his words.

Tawnypelt sighed, her expression was sullen, “It isn’t us that will decide that, Brambleclaw. Who knows if the sign will come?”

“Maybe it’s too late for that.” Stormfur mewed weakly.

“Stormfur, you can’t say that.” Brambleclaw insisted, his voice broken with shock. “Think about… Would Feathertail want you to give up now?” He sounded desperate to keep the groups hopes alive. It was clear belief was slipping out of all of them.

The sound of her name was like the chill of invisible rain.

Stormfur looked up slowly, his eyes were dull. “I wish we’d never stayed in the mountains.” He said softly, his eyes travelled through the group before sliding back to the dark mud.

No one could say anything.

It didn’t matter much as the leaders’ voices took over the clearing.

There was no agreement between them. They were arguing, divided, split as they had always been.

Like Stormfur had said, Leopardstar refused to leave her territory when they still had food and water to thrive from. She didn’t offer any share to the clans.

Blackstar wanted to leave the forest, he said there wouldn’t be anything left soon anyway, but he didn’t want to lead his warriors on the words of some badger. He would decide where they went. He made that clear with a flash of his eyes, as if he anticipated the other clans to argue. Tawnypelt’s jaw dropped when he announced he’d be leading Shadowclan to the Twolegplace, but her voice was gone. It offered no match to her leader’s.

Beside her, Brambleclaw had grown stiff with inconceivable panic. He looked at his sister, frozen with aghast fear, trembling at the thought of leaving her forever.

But no words of comfort came out of him.

No comfort came from any of them.

Squirrelpaw was finding it hard to breathe. Every minute they waited for a sign just made the poison in the air thicker. Her sight had gone from glassy to clouded in a matter of minutes, but she found that no tears dampened her cheeks. Perhaps she was too stunned to cry.

She just didn’t know what had gone wrong? She wasn’t an idiot, she had known, and expected, that things would be different once they came home. But when she looked at the cats she had spent moons eating, sleeping and travelling with, the cats she considered her friends, she couldn’t believe what she saw.

Even if they were back at the clans, did that really mean they had to act like strangers?

She remembered nights where they had sat together telling stories, unafraid to laugh or moan at the jokes they shared. They had been warm in the growing trust they had established. But here, under the shadows of their leaders, they all looked stiff and cold, scared to even look at each other. Their words were as blunt as winter bark, wrapped in thorns that pierced through them all.

They had been through so much. Squirrelpaw knew that. She’d been there. She remembered it all.

So why did it look like they couldn’t?

Where was the sign? That was all they needed, right? If that came, it would have to make the leaders know they were telling the truth! So why wouldn’t it come? Squirrelpaw could only watch as the impatient leader of Shadowclan stormed off the Great rock, denouncing their prophecy as foolish. She also saw her father try to stop him, meeting the bared fangs of Blackstar as he did so.

Squirrelpaw’s stomach turned. Midnight had told them that the leaders would have to listen. But they were still snarling like enemies.

They couldn’t come together.

Maybe that was why Starclan refused to respond. Why waste time on cats who couldn’t believe what they had already foretold?

Squirrelpaw breathed in to stop herself from shaking. No… No! They had to survive this! If they couldn’t carry on then why had they even gone in the first place? Why had Feathertail…

It didn’t matter what interjections the chosen warriors made. The leaders of Riverclan and Windclan had made up their minds.

In fact, Squirrelpaw only saw Leopardstar’s attention drift once.

When she saw her hulking brown Deputy pound onto the Great Rock and sneer at the leaders himself. “If the other clans want to leave,” Hawkfrost said carefully, his fox like eyes glinting, “I think they should. Don’t let us stop you when you can’t stop us from staying here.” His mouth curved into a thin smile that appeared to taunt the angry eyes of Firestar and Tallstar.

Squirrelpaw couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her tail flared. How could this tom address the leaders like that? He seemed to flicker in the shimmers of moonlight, expanding like some dark dream into the clouds. He seemed to burn with an arrogance that made Squirrelpaw sick.

But what truly caught her was how Leopardstar said nothing to this disrespect. If anything, her eyes shone with agreement.

She believed this tom, this cat who had sauntered into her clan just over a moon ago, over the word of her own Warrior.

Over the sacrifice of her dead Warrior.

Squirrelpaw’s surprise began to bubble into rage. It wasn’t isolated as Brambleclaw twisted up to face the tom with a furious snarl. “You just want our territory!” He accused, his face contorted savagely.

Hawkfrost narrowed his eyes, but he simply cocked his head to the side as if addressing a kit. “What would you need it for?” He said smoothly. He wouldn’t even deny it. “If you wish to abandon your territory, it can’t surprise you that other cats would take it. That’s just nature.”

“What would you know of our nature?” Brambleclaw shouted, “You’re not even clan born!”

Hawkfrost only stared, unwavered.

“Brambleclaw!” Firestar hissed. “Show some respect!”

Squirrelpaw turned to her father in cold horror. Was he really defending this fox-heart over his own Warrior? She knew it was important to not start a fight, but she hardly could see how he could snap at Brambleclaw when Leopardstar had only watched Hawkfrost admit how he wanted to steal their own territory!

As Brambleclaw gazed at his paws in shame, Squirrelpaw could only watch, teeth clenched, as Hawkfrost looked down at them with cold satisfaction.

She looked at her clanmate in deep sympathy. This wasn’t fair! Brambleclaw was the one who had been given a message from Starclan, Brambleclaw was the one who had risked his life to follow their instructions, and Hawkfrost was the one who was standing next to his leader in triumph. How was this just? She wanted to scream at the mongrel herself, but she didn’t have the chance as the air was filled by her father’s pleas as Blackstar stormed away with his clan.

She couldn’t say anything, she could only sit there, fighting for breath as Tawnypelt, looking defeated, was forced to follow her leader, unable to even give a goodbye to her gasping brother.

Stormfur was soon forced to leave as well. He offered Squirrelpaw a sad goodbye and a promise that he would try to talk with them again soon, but he didn’t sound like he believed it.

Even when Tallstar scrambled from the Great rock, shouting in a withered voice that they needed to make a truce, Leopardstar didn’t bat an eye. She strode off, eyes cold, followed by the proud, smirking Hawkfrost. Stormfur could only follow, head dipped. He was the only one who looked back when Tallstar fell from the Great rock in his panic, his fall only lessened by the quick pounce of Crowpaw. Then he slid into the shadows.

Squirrelpaw could feel the failure on her tongue.

It swarmed around the Great rock like a cloud of locusts. There would be no sign tonight. And there would be no agreement either, only conflict.

She heard her father’s sad voice above them. A leader’s tone, soft with defeat. “I couldn’t convince them.”

No one could.

Squirrelpaw gazed into the shadows where her friends had disappeared. Beyond her sight, they had returned to the ruins of their own clans. And yet, their leaders couldn’t believe them. They had denied the meaning of their journey and relied on their own decisions, no matter the cost of the other clans.

The only hope she could find came from how Tallstar was on her father’s side. But even that was thin as the Windclan leader was desperate to leave soon, while her father begged him for more time to reassure the other clans. It wasn’t a surprise to the molly. She only needed to look at Tallstar to understand his frenzy. But like her father, she knew they couldn’t just leave the others so easily.

“Why didn’t the sign come?” Squirrelpaw said breathlessly. Why hadn’t Starclan come to them? She turned to her remaining friends and was heartbroken by the hopeless look on Brambleclaw’s face. His shoulders had sunken and his head was low. He looked as if he couldn’t find the strength to lift a paw. Crowpaw hadn’t seemed to hear her as he kept close to his leader who sat, shaking, talking with Firestar.

“I don’t know.” Brambleclaw said hollowly.

Squirrelpaw blinked rapidly, “What are we going to do now? We can’t just leave the other clans?” She couldn’t imagine the thought of doing that. If they kept apart who knew what that would mean for the clans. Squirrelpaw was certain that no clan would survive if they didn’t stay together. She couldn’t just let Tawnypelt and Stormfur go that easily!

Brambleclaw let out a mew of pain. “It’s like Tawnypelt said.” His voice cracked, “It isn’t up to us anymore.”

“No… We-We have to do something!”

“What can we do?” Brambleclaw looked up and Squirrelpaw shivered at how dark his eyes looked. “We can’t change the minds of the other leaders. Not even their own Warriors could do that.”

Squirrelpaw shook her head. The logic of her clanmates words was something she refused to accept. “No! Starclan gave you that message because they wanted us all to save the clans! That’s what we have to do!”

“I want to believe you, Squirrelpaw.” Brambleclaw looked up to the expanding darkness. He seemed to be pleading internally for a light he didn’t think would come. “But what if we can’t.”

“We have to!” Squirrelpaw squeaked. She would not allow herself to believe this was all for nothing! They had to save the clans! They had to!

It was what Feathertail had died for.

Squirrelpaw fixed her brow into a determined frown, she forced herself to keep straight. “Things will work out, Brambleclaw!” She meowed. When Brambleclaw just silently looked down at his paws again, Squirrelpaw didn’t waste a moment. She fixed herself beside him and wrapped her tail around him. “You’ll see. We’re all going to be okay.”

They would be, she told herself. We’re going to be okay.

We’re going to be okay.

We’re going to be okay.

She repeated it in her mind until her vision was clear.

There was a silent appreciation in Brambleclaw’s eyes, but he didn’t smile. His tail patted Squirrelpaw’s back thankfully, before lying still again. Squirrelpaw sighed, disappointed, but she backed off. The tom clearly wanted a little space to think. All she needed to do was remind him when he was too much in doubt.

Her head turned towards her father and Tallstar again, they were stood beside their medicine cats discussing the failure of this night.

“You’re too proud, Firestar.” Tallstar rasped, his eyes were narrowed. “If you wait around for the other clans to agree, both of our clans will die. You know that.”

“Tallstar.” Firestar said softly, fighting to keep straight. “I understand what you’re saying, but I can’t… I can’t just let my clan leave the others in this chaos.”

“And what about when the chaos consumes us both?!” Tallstar demanded.

Squirrelpaw’s ears fixed back, her heart suddenly stabbing with pity for her father. How could any leader be asked to lead in a situation like this? She saw Crowpaw watching a tail-length away. His fur was flat on his back as he watched his leader warily, like he expected a sudden attack from Firestar.

Squirrelpaw tried to swallow down her anger. But that was difficult. When she looked at Crowpaw, a terrible feeling rattled in her chest. The bitter sting of his words, the lack of trust, the assurance of his own isolation, it consumed Squirrelpaw’s heart like a hungry adder.

She cringed and forced herself to look back at him again. But when she did, she was so stung by what she saw. This wasn’t the Crowpaw she knew. This bitter shell wasn’t her friend, it couldn’t be. He was in pain, just like her. Despite what he said and how he acted, Squirrelpaw knew, she just knew, that there was a part of him that needed her.

Just like a part of her needed him.

This wasn’t about how she truly felt.

More than anything in the world, Crowpaw was her friend and if he needed her, she would be there.

Besides, a voice in her head had reminded her of something she needed to do.

Biting her lip, waiting a moment, then taking another deep breath, she stepped towards him. Crowpaw’s ear flicked and he turned back, upon seeing her his angry expression softened somewhat but it was by no means recognisable yet.

Squirrelpaw gulped, shaking away the hurt of feeling how awkward it had become to just talk with him. “Crowpaw?”

“What is it?” His voice was sharp.

Squirrelpaw’s tail sank a little, but she kept her face straight and gentle. “I just…” She looked at him deeply, hoping to catch the part of him that remembered the journey. The good parts. “I’m happy that our clans will be travelling together.”

Crowpaw bristled, “We should be leaving soon. My clan can’t afford to wait.”

“I know.” Squirrelpaw said gently, “Mine can’t either, but we just need more time to-”

“We don’t have time!” Crowpaw snapped, his voice was a quiet lash. He stepped closer so his leader wouldn’t hear him. “We tried to convince the others, but they wouldn’t listen! That’s their fault!”

Squirrelpaw gasped, “Crowpaw, we can’t just leave without them! What about Stormfur and Tawnypelt?”

“What about my clanmates? What about yours? Do you really want to let them suffer because Leopardstar and Blackstar can’t see sense?”

Squirrelpaw’s brow furrowed, she couldn’t stop herself. “What about their clans? Their clanmates shouldn’t be allowed to suffer instead! We need to try and convince them.”

Crowpaw scoffed, “I’m sure hunger will convince them soon enough!”

Squirrelpaw shivered. She didn’t like the bitterness in Crowpaw’s voice. She forced herself to ignore the voice that screamed that was what Crowpaw wanted to happen to them. He wasn’t the kind of cat who’d want that for anycat… she was sure…

“I don’t want to argue with you, Crowpaw.”

“Then what do you want then?” He looked back at his leader carefully.

Squirrelpaw’s jaw rolled back and forth, there was a biting sensation in her chest. “Greystripe told me to tell you something.”

Crowpaw paused.

He knew who Greystripe was. He knew who his family were.

Squirrelpaw saw a slight trembling in Crowpaw’s tail. She blinked when she felt her eyes start to become glassy again. “He wanted me to thank you. For… being Feathertail’s friend.”

Crowpaw’s ears flattened hard against his skull. Instantly he turned to Squirrelpaw, his face numb with bewilderment. It felt so new that Squirrelpaw was caught off guard.

Then she allowed the hope to fill her again.

Feathertail.

That was who they were bonded by, she was the cat that would always be in their memory. She was the reason for the hope that Squirrelpaw kept so close to her heart.

She felt, she just felt, that Crowpaw had to share that too.

But then Crowpaw killed that hope with three words.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Whatever response Squirrelpaw had expected, it wasn’t that. She hadn’t mentally fortified herself for the bleak audacity in his voice.

The air suddenly felt like it was stinging.

“What did you just say?” Squirrelpaw whispered, her voice was sharp as her pupils shrank into tiny pricks that blurred the darkness of the night. Through her trembling sight, she found she could barely distinguish Crowpaw from the dark anymore.

And what she did see, the sunken cavern of his face, looked like a complete stranger.

“I said it doesn’t matter.” The darkness let out a soft growl that rumbled and buzzed in the night. “What good did being her friend do when she isn’t even here?”

The night began to shrink. Squirrelpaw began to shake.

It didn’t matter?

Those three words began to glow red in Squirrelpaw’s mind.

“She was our friend.” Squirrelpaw said, her voice tight. “Of course it matters.”

“How?” The hollow voice responded, “Did it stop her from dying?”

“That’s not the point.”

“There’s no point to it at all!”

Squirrelpaw’s heart began to burn, “You don’t mean that. You don’t.” She said it again to give him a chance. “How can you say that? She would have done anything for you! For any of us! You know that!”

“Yeah I do!” The voice hissed, “That’s why she’s dead.” There was a long, glaring silence. “If that’s why she’s dead then it would have been better if we hadn’t been friends to begin with!”

In the draw of her scattered breath, Squirrelpaw’s cold denial transformed into a storm of fury! She twisted her head up to the cat, her breath racing in a fierce rage. He didn’t even look stirred. He just sat there, glaring at his paws as if he had said enough.

It didn’t matter. That was what he’d said.

Their whole friendship.

Feathertail’s laugh.

Feathertail’s kindness.

Feathertail’s smile.

None of that mattered?

By all accounts, Squirrelpaw realised with a simmering blaze, the implication of those three words was that Feathertail had died for nothing. Whether it was his intention or not, Squirrelpaw did not care. Feathertail had died for him, because she loved him, because she loved her clan.

Did her sacrifice mean nothing then?

“How dare you?” Squirrelpaw said, her voice was rough and scratchy. “You can’t be serious!”

Crowpaw looked up at her silently, then with a sharp grind of his teeth he turned away again. “Why don’t you think about it? She died for all of us! She would have been better off if she’d just looked after herself!”

“She sacrificed herself because she wanted us to survive!”

“And now she isn’t here!” Crowpaw spat out, he shook his head with a hiss.

“I can’t believe you! Have you forgotten what she wanted? She wanted the clans to work together! She wanted us to be friends!”

“And look where we are now.” He wouldn’t even look at her. He couldn’t do that much! “Look around you, Squirrelpaw! The clans aren’t going to change just because a Warrior wants them to!”

Squirrelpaw stared at him icily, her paws tensed and her claws scraped into the mud. “That isn’t what she believed! And how can you say that? You said…” Squirrelpaw fumbled for her breath like she was reaching for air above a roaring river. “You said you wanted us all to continue meeting.”

She wanted Crowpaw to acknowledge that. It was something. It was a memory. It was hope.

Crowpaw didn’t even bat an eye. “Yeah? Well… that was my mistake.”

Mistake…

Mistake…

Mistake…

“Are you kidding?” Squirrelpaw said gently. She had lost the effort to find her voice straining.

Crowpaw didn’t respond, he just looked back at his leader.

Mistake.

Was that how he saw everything?

Squirrelpaw sat there not listening as Tallstar and Firestar began to end their discussion.

She felt like she was waiting as her eyes kept fixed on Crowpaw. He still had his back turned to her. Maybe she was waiting for the slightest break that showed he was lying. That he didn’t regret everything he said. That everything important to Squirrelpaw still meant something. That she still had a reason to hold on to the memories of the friends she had made.

Crowpaw didn’t move.

Squirrelpaw felt something hopeless inside her.

She breathed in and out.

Fine.

“Fine.” She said to the dark back. “You know what? If she could see you now, she wouldn’t even want to see you again.”

There was no reaction.

She could sense that Windclan were about to leave. She wouldn’t let him have the power of ending this conversation. Of ending their friendship. She rose to her paws and let her heart speak before her mind.

“In fact,” She said in a voice she couldn’t believe was hers. “She’d be ashamed of you.”

She didn’t wait to see any reaction, inside of her was a putrid pool of satisfaction and regret that was too heavy to let go of.

She didn’t wait for her clanmates, she just began to stalk her way back. She’d tell her father and Brambleclaw that there was nothing else to hear. Sliding through mud and sap and destruction was too easy for the molly now. That terrified her.

But she would wait until she got back to the gully where her clanmates were sleeping before she let everything truly take place in her heart.

The hopeless situation.

The loss of her friends.

The belief she struggled to hold.

She wouldn’t cry. She told herself.

She wouldn’t cry.

She wouldn’t cry.

She cried. Nestled in the dark gully between her sister and Shrewpaw, in this place that screamed the truth that her home was gone, she cried silently. Her face buried into two paws, sucking in her sobs like she was hiding from predators, she let her eyes water until they were sore and she was too exhausted to do anything else.

But even as she fell asleep, she couldn’t ignore the shadows over the faces of her friends.

And she couldn’t stop the pain of feeling so alone once more.

She wanted to dream of hope.

But her thoughts were black when she finally fell into the haze.

…

When Squirrelpaw opened her eyes, she was shocked when she didn’t smell the sharp rot of the gully. Instead the air smelt ripe and sweet, like they were glistening somehow over her fur. She looked around and saw a vast field, seeming to go on forever. It reminded her of the sea from the sun-drown place, so open and free.

All around her were glittering strands of grass, as well as patches of flowers whose colours seemed to stream into the sky itself. Squirrelpaw could only look up in astonishment as she saw the sky was a bright shadow of dark blue, like how the night began to glisten before a sunrise. Beams of light seemed to hand in the air itself around her. Were they stars? If they were, Squirrelpaw had never seen stars like them. She’d never seen anything so beautiful.

She looked around in awe. Where was she?

What kind of dream was this? It wasn’t like those that passed between a blink, she felt alive here, in control.

And entirely at peace.

She felt like she didn’t want to wake up.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Squirrelpaw froze.

Not out of fright.

But out of something strange and blissful.

She couldn’t give herself this kind of hope surely. It wasn’t… It wasn’t possible.

The sweet laugh echoed over the dream like a soft cloud.

Despite the painful truth of her reality, Squirrelpaw couldn’t bring herself to ignore the voice that she knew. It was warm. It was bright. It made her chest gleam in a way she hadn’t felt for so long.

Squirrelpaw held her breath as she turned.

A tree-length away from her, a molly stood there. She was glittering under the lights around her, like she was part of them herself. They sparkled over her silver fur like stars that could never go out.

Squirrelpaw had to be dreaming.

This hope couldn’t be true.

She breathed slowly as she met the eyes she knew so well. The ocean blue eyes glowed as they connected with hers.

“Hello Squirrelpaw.” The soft voice cooed. “I missed you.”

Everything in Squirrelpaw told her to keep back and safe from this certain trick.

But Feathertail, real or not, was there. And she gave Squirrelpaw the one thing she missed so much.

A friend’s smile.

It was that that made Squirrelpaw run. And when she found herself buried in the soft fur of her friend, she couldn’t bring herself to care anymore if this was real or just a dream.

But then she caught Feathertail’s scent. Familiar and striking.

And it all became real.

Squirrelpaw cried. But nothing could stop her from smiling.

…

#squirrelflight #crowfeather #brambleclaw #tawnypelt #Stormfur #Feathertail #the new prophecy #Warrior Cats #Warriors #fanfiction #squirrelcrow #crowsquirrel #i like your laugh

[asscreeds]

Heila - Chapter 1

“Heila,” an Old Norse verb meaning “to heal.”

Self-insert F!Eivor/Reader fic where the reader is a Dane from a clan with an unhinged leader that lands them in a heap of trouble, and are captured by Saxons after a failed raid. Eivor rescues the mortally wounded reader from certain death & with a little help from the Raven Clan, they are nursed back to health, and Eivor and Reader grow a little closer via helping eachother to overcome their traumas. Then inevitable lesbian pining and one or two (a little horny) dream sequences that suggest Eivor and the reader have actually known eachother for a very, very long time.

Reader is DFAB and uses she/her pronouns.

There are very specific trigger warnings for this chapter that are only referenced to later on in the story - graphic descriptions of violence, physical & psychological t/orture, religious fanaticism, wh/ipping, v/omit, blood, and minor/background character d/eath.

Read on AO3. i havent rlly posted fanfiction before on tumblr be nice to me

The morning waves broke calmly against the eastern shore of Cent, the salty sea breeze & sting of sand against your face and arms both familiar and calming to you; despite being weeks away from the place you once called home, it seemed the ocean would never change, no matter where you went. You could hear seabirds cry above you, and the gentle bustle of your impromptu settlement as your clanmates began to stir and prepare for the day to come. This was not your home, nor your intended destination when you had departed from your homeland - but, hopefully, you & your clan would make a home out of it yet. Originally you were to sail to Normandy but an unexpected and powerful storm threw your ship off course & you'd landed somewhere in England, according to your navigator, Vilmar.

Sitting around & watching the sun rise would not do much to help your people build a base camp. Before you could even get up, you heard footsteps in the sand behind you, and turned to find Gunnar. "There you are, y/n!" he bellowed, helping you to your feet as you giggled. "We've been looking for you for a meeting - needing your level head and all. We need supplies quickly," he said, quickly guiding you to your leader's tent, the both of you somehow avoiding bumping into clansmen carrying lumber, goods and the like. "Oh, needing my guidance for once, Gunnar? Or are you going to suggest we ride into the heart of a storm again?" you jested, elbowing his side as you walked up the green hillside. He made some sort of huffing sound, like a grumpy animal, and simply ushered you into the tent where your leader Frederik & Vilmar were already arguing.

"We need supplies, Vilmar! Else we'll all starve by the end of the week!" Frederik growled, slamming his fist into the table, sending little carved statuettes out of their places on the map.

Vilmar moved to speak, then saw you and Gunnar standing at the entrance of the tent, visibly deflating & waving the two of you over. "Hello Gunnar, y/n." Your arrival didn't seem to placate Frederik at all… 

Vilmar continued with his thought. "I know we need supplies, Frederik, but the risks outweigh all rewards at the moment. We musn't rush in blindly going a-vikingr, we must make allies first and set up a trade route," he said, rearranging the statuettes to their original places. "We've sent scouts out to every corner of this kingdom, as far as we could, and every single one has come back with word of a potential allyship, and a warning that every single village here is armed to the teeth. We cannot afford to raid right now." 

Frederik seethed quietly, seemingly first accepting Vilmar's words, then growing even more agitated. "And how long will it take,Vilmar, to establish a trade route?" he spat, staring down at the other man with something unreadable behind his eyes. Vilmar held his stare, then looked down at the map. "...A week."

The effect was instantaneous. Before you could even get a word in, Frederik stormed out of the tent, leaving the three of you bewildered, confused & frightened. You knew Frederik could be hellfire at his worst, and he'd always been obsessed with the tales of glory & kings that were told to children, and you had always chalked it up to him barely being 22 winters old, but this was something else. Sharing a worried look with your friends, you chased after him, & were met with a small crowd that had already gathered in the center of the encampment. Frederik's clear & raucous voice rang out over your clansmen, and you saw him pacing back & forth on a wooden platform. Like a king.

"Hear me, kinsmen! We may have landed in a strange land, but it is not an unknown land! We are upon the shores of England, the holy country," he spat out the world 'holy' like an insult, "and we are not the first Danes to do so, and we will not be the last. England is the same as any other land - full & ripe of pickings for the vikingr. Any and all of the able-bodied, you will ride the waterhorse with me to their Christ-House, and we will deprive them of their stores & silver!"

No, no, no, no, no. This was suicide.

Frederik leapt down from the platform, immediately heading for the armory, his wolf-fur cape billowing behind him as if he were a great hero from the old tales, though you knew he was anything but . This was not a good plan, nor a sound plan. He was insane if he thought a band of two dozen sea-soaked & exhausted Danes could pillage a monastery & live to tell the tale. You rushed ahead & grabbed his arm. He did not look at you.

"Frederik, please! Listen to me! This will not end well for you, nor for this clan! Follow through with Vilmar's plan instead, please, I am begging you -" you cried, and were met with the man shaking you off as if you were a fly. He turned to you with a wild look in his eye, forcing himself in your space, close enough for you to finally smell the ale on his breath & to see the dullness in his honey-brown eyes. "I have seen great glory in my dreams, y/n. I will not be denied it." You didn't know what to say, staring at him in shock. He looked at you again, and decided something, muttering something under his breath. "You will ride with me," he growled.

This shocked you out of whatever daze you were in. "What? No! I…" you yelped, but he had already turned from you and stormed off again. This was not good. You were never an adept fighter. Sure, you had trained once or twice in your early years, but you would never call yourself a drengr. But to go against your leader's word & break your oath to him would be a worse fate, consigning you to Helheim. Begrudgingly, you went off in search of armor & a weapon, the distant sound of thunder rumbling in the sky.

A few hours had passed, and to the best of all of your abilities, your clan had mustered up a small yet intimidating army. Maybe things would go right, and you'll topple their church like a house of cards, but you couldn't shake the ever-present feeling of something being wrong. Finishing the warrior-braid in your hair and tying it with a leather strip, you donned the leather & fur armor handed to you by Runa, your weaponsmith. It did not fit you perfectly, but still fit, and would serve its purpose and protect you yet from whatever weapons the English would use to defend themselves. Your weapons of choice, an axe & a flail, hung from the belt around your waist heavily, and you were not used to the weight of them. A shield adorned with your clans symbol, the stag, laid against your back like a mockery of a security blanket. Taking a swig of mead to warm your belly & calm your nerves, you give one last glance to your tent & personal belongings - the dried flower & a bag of jewelry (that you've had to hide from your kinsmen many times) from your mother, a lovingly-written & tear-stained letter from your father, among other things given to you by your friends & family as parting gifts before your departure from Denmark. 

You did not know it would be the last time you would see them.

Taking a deep breath, you exited your tent and headed for the shore, where many of your clan had already hopped into the three longships, painted red & blue, the stark coloration of the paint looking even brighter against the dark waves of the sea. Were you looking at them any other time, you would have called the scene pretty, but not while you had to wade through knee-deep oceanwater to try and scramble up the side of one of them. You struggled for a bit before a hand grasped your arm and pulled you up, and you heard a familiar voice. "y/n? What are you doing here? You should be staying here, with the women & children!" Gunnar spoke, his voice hushed so that the figure of Frederik somewhere behind him could not hear. You could only send him a sad but stern look. "Frederik insisted." He looked at you for far too long, and you could almost hear him thinking - he knew that you were not a drengr, either. He made some sort of soft sound & pulled you fully up onto the boat, and turned back to face forward in his seat. You could not read the expression on his face.

You sat next to him, both looking forward to Frederik, who turned around as the rest of the drengr boarded the ships, his face somber for a split second before shifting to another, more spry and almost violent expression. His voice rang out against the waves, his blonde hair had already begun falling out of his warrior-braid, sending tendrils of it flying in the wind, and his iron armor shone brightly when the sun allowed it. He was a picturesque vikingr, one you would see in the margins of fairytale books.

"Hear me, kinsmen! Today we sail for Raculf Monastery, upon the Northeastern Shore, for glory & for life! For there it is where we will find the supplies we need to replace those we lost in that dreadful storm, and there is where we will succeed! I know many of you have become doubtful, but fear not - I have dreamt of these moments and seen the glory within, and I have all of my faith in the nine Nornir that we will prevail!" he quaked, earning a few rejoiced battle cries from those around you, and even you felt a little energized, his words setting a newfound battlelust within you that you didn't know you even had. 

Your clan set sail immediately, the wind from the brewing storm to the south boosting your speed on the short journey to the monastery. It would only take an hour or two to get there, if Vilmar's predictions were correct. Nervously you checked your weapons, feeling & testing the sharpness of your axe's blade-edge, and Gunnar gently elbowed your side. "Never took you for an axe woman," he said with a light chuckle, sending you an uneasy smile. You couldn't bring yourself to match it. "I have never been forced to choose, Gunnar." 

His smile dropped momentarily, then returned, albeit a bit smaller, and he turned to you fully. His blue eyes shone with confidence. "Listen, y/n. I know you are worried as I am, but I have faith in both Frederik & the Gods that everything will go right for us this day," he said, gently setting his huge hand on your shoulder and giving a friendly shake. Slowly, you returned his smile. Maybe so.

It was difficult, however, to be so confident & blindly trusting in Frederik & your luck when the storm roared behind you, moving just as fast if not faster than the longships. Too soon you had seen the white pires of the monastery in view, the columns of smoke from countless houses & other buildings rising high into the air as the monastery's denizens continued their lives unaware to the coming danger, and too soon had you heard Frederik's voice over the roar of the sea again. It began to rain heavily, soaking through the leather of your armor and chilling your bones. You felt as if you were in a dream.

"Look there, men! Our prize, to be split open & savored! Prepare yourselves!" he roared, and it seemed like you had blinked and were suddenly upon the shore: the sails lowered, and just as Frederik blew into his horn, a deafening crack of thunder prevailed your raid, and a fire had already started, the hay-roof of a villager's home struck by lightning. Frederik gave a booming laugh, joyous & strong. "Thor is with us!" 

And like that, you and your three-dozen clansmen descended upon the monastery, moving together like some unstoppable force. Taken off guard the Saxon warriors had little time to prepare for the assault, and many were immediately fell by the first wave of your brethren; thankfully you were at the back, but this left you open to attack from reinforcements - hopefully they would not come. You quickly entered some sort of fugue state where it felt like you were not truly there, not truly controlling your body, letting your arm guide itself, your axe cutting the chests & necks of already weakened Saxons, spilling red red bubbling blood - was this the battle fury felt by berserkir? 

You did not enjoy it. You did not find glory in taking these men's lives.

By the time you had advanced closer to the church, many of the buildings were already set ablaze, the smell of wood-smoke & hair burning making you choke. Not even the pouring rain could douse the fires. All at once you were overwhelmed by the sensations, the sounds - iron clashing, battle cries, the screaming of civilians caught in crossfire - it was too much. You felt yourself shake. But you pressed on, finishing the weak off as before, checking corpses (both of your clansmen and Saxons, though notably more of the latter) as quickly as you could to make sure none of them were breathing - you did not know what you would do if you did find one still alive, either kill him or spare him - and, thankfully, you were never injured. Somewhere along the line you had reunited with Gunnar, and you helped him finish off the last of the Saxon warriors, to which he gave a grateful nod towards you, then a nod to the church. Come with me.

The locked timber doors of the monastery's inner sanctum were no match for the wrath of the vikingr, and crumbled as easily as any other. You both had finally breached the walls of the church when you heard Frederik's victorious cry, and when you turned the corner you could see why - barrels upon barrels and boxes upon boxes of supplies, food, raw materials, and the like. 

You had done it. You had won, raided a monastery, and lived to tell the tale. You felt yourself let out a breath and breathe deeply in, something that felt entirely alien to you, as if you had not taken a breath in your entire life. You felt as if you could pass out on the spot. This alerted Frederik of your presence, and he turned to you and Gunnar immediately, wild-eyed and ecstatic. "We have done it, my drengr! Here is our lifeblood!" You couldn't match his enthusiasm, standing as still as a statue, but managed to let out a light chuckle. You had done it.

The chuckle turned into a scream as two arrows pierced your shoulder from behind.

Frederik let go of you and you crumpled to the floor with a sharp cry, taken aback as a dozen or so more Saxons forced themselves through the church's doors, and another had a knife to Gunnar's throat. Reinforcements.

If they had gotten to the three of you, who knows what became of the rest of your clansmen.

You writhed on the marble flooring, your blood staining the tiles red as you tried to gain your footing, your breathing, anything to keep you grounded in this world and alive as your body could not stand to produce adrenaline anymore from the strenuous and long battle, the sharp pain of the arrows lodged between your shoulder blade & your spine making it hard to do anything but lay there. At least it had not been your head.

You felt a boot come down upon your back, knocking the wind out of you again, and a hand tangled itself in your hair, pulling harshly against your scalp to raise you up from the floor - seemingly higher than you've ever been - and another hand came to pull your arms behind your back, as if you could even hope to try and break free. A Saxon, a zealot, you would later say, stepped forward from the rest towards Frederik. 

"Hail, heathen," he spat, the rustle of his gilded armor & the voice behind his helmet too loud, too harsh against the once-peaceful quiet of the church. You squeezed your eyes shut. "What brings you here to this House of God, to commit acts of heresy? Tell me why I should not slay you and all of your kin for defiling this place." Thunder roared outside the church, stained glass windows shaking with the sound.

Frederik seemed in shock & at a loss for words. He took a breath, then two, and the Saxon grew impatient. "Speak, worm."

"I, I - we came here for supplies, and -"

"And you thought you could pillage and raid and steal, or maybe you have tried to make peace and were rejected and thought this was the answer. I've heard the same story and the same lie from the other dozens of you Danes that I have slain. I want you to tell me. Why should I not slay you?" You were suddenly very aware of how much of your blood was outside of your body on the floor, where it should not be, and you felt bile bubble up in your throat, saliva drooling from your mouth as if you were a sick animal.

Frederik could not respond. In his mind, he did what he thought was best, not for his clan, but for him; he ran. 

At once arrows were drawn upon him, but the Saxon merely waved an arm & they were dismissed. "Ah, I love a good coward. Let him run & tell other Danes of his failure. Let him live with it. Take the others to Canterbury to be converted." 

You were again jostled around, catching a glimpse of Gunnar in your periphery, who had cast his gaze down at the ground with a blank stare. You both had the same thought.

He left us.

Before you could finally let yourself pass out from shock, you felt a hand on your jaw, turning your head this way and that. "You're a pretty one, eh? Not a fighter like the others. What are you doing out here with these barbarians?" The Saxon from before. You couldn't meet the man's gaze, locking eyes for a just a second before you looked to the floor again. He gave a light chuckle. Thankfully, he said no more, and you felt yourself grow weaker and weaker as you and your kinsmen were bound & loaded into carts like animals, the rain having let up, only lightly sprinkling now. You fell asleep and dreamt nothing. It was both a blessing & a curse.

You all sat there quietly for the remainder of the morning, any attempt at conversation harshly shushed by a well-armored guard standing nearby on watch. From what you could see, he was bored… as if these circumstances were normal to him. Capturing & abusing prisoners. These Saxons were a new ugly.

When you awoke, you were corralled in some sort of cage with a few others, and you could feel the morning sun beating down on your back. You went to move but were suddenly reminded of the arrows still present in your back and let out a wheezing, pained sound, frightening some of your clansmen around you, waking up others. They had not sustained much injury in the battle aside from bruises and little cuts - your injury, amongst all of those still alive, was the worst. The Saxons had not even been so courteous to break off the shafts, and the nauseating feeling of the arrowheads moving between your muscles as you sat up nearly made you wretch onto the dirt. You were not used to pain like this. Among the others in your cage - all women - you found Hanne, Runa's daughter; Ulla, who you truly didn't know her origins but she could fight like a bear; and little Lissi, a winter younger than you, and in almost the same boat, though she had trained for combat for several seasons now. They all sent you sorrowful looks as blood began to drip from your nose & mouth onto your front, staining your tunic further. Tunic? You looked down. The Saxons had stripped you of your armor, at some point when you were asleep. Figures.

At some point, maybe during noon or after, bells sang from the church on the hillside, and a small, squirrely-looking old man had come down to bring all of you some dry bread & bowls of water. It was not a filling meal but you ate it gratefully regardless. He looked upon you & your kith, bound & shackled and being handfed like dogs, with great pity. An hour passed, and you were all allowed to relieve yourselves, though for some it had come too late. Then dusk came, and a different man approached your cages, followed closely by another armored Saxon. The man spoke in a strange tongue from an open book with a cross on the front, and from what English you understood you supposed it was some sort of rite, or blessing, or maybe a curse. Then they both went away, and you were all left alone for the night. They had not treated your injuries, nor given you anything to eat past the bread & water from midday. You thought of those back at the settlement, and hoped that they were safe… they did not deserve this mistreatment. And then you thought of Frederik, and a new fury from somewhere deep within you came to light. That fucking ergi. Abandoning his people. Maybe he had gone back to them, alone, and the thought of it made your blood boil - what lies would he tell them? It did not even matter if he told them, there would not be enough men left to rescue you. You looked up to the world around you in the cage, ignoring the burning of the arrows, and studied the night sky, and how the lights of the city reflected against the villager's homes, and how the moon seemed to give the church its own glow. This is what Frederik gave me , you thought. Consigned to die in a cage, locked up by an animal by the Saxons. Or worse. You saw a lone crow circling the church's highest point. And to yourself, you made an oath.

I will see to it that the coward faces what he has broken.

Another day went by, the same as the last, and then another. Some priests came by in the early morning of the second day and finally rid your back of the two arrows, though they did not truly clean the wounds, only simply broke off the shafts & quelled the bleeding. You were all only fed bread and water. On the third day, you refused your "meal," partly because of your burning hatred of Frederik to do anything properly, partly because of the fever that had set in and worsened rapidly over a few hours. You did not feel like yourself.

As you did every day, you sat still in the corner of the cage & observed villagers, soldiers, priests & pilgrims pass by, like a dog staring from the back of a kennel. Today, however, you were given the chance to see two new faces pass by - two new outlander faces. One of a tanned man with a beard in strange white & red gear, who looked upon you & your kith with a strange expression, and a tall, hooded woman with bear fur draped about her shoulders. A Norseman, plain in sight, and none of the Saxons in the city had even batted an eye at the pair. She looked at you with pity first, then her brows furrowed, and muttered something to her companion, who gave a short reply. They continued up the hill to the church - pilgrims, maybe? Doubtful.

An hour passed, and then two, then three, and another priest approached your cages. He spoke of conversion, some rite, and honestly you'd tuned him out after the first few words. Suddenly he turned to you, and the ice-blue of his eyes shocked you still. "Will you accept the love of God into your heart?"

You didn't know what to say. This felt like an insult, after all these people have put you through. You made up your mind quickly. Maybe it was your fever speaking for you. "No."

He made another sort of sad face, and then was suddenly shadowed by the same Saxon that had cornered Frederik, back at the monastery.

"Then we will make an example out of you yet, little heathen." You did not have time to prepare for the pair of armored guards dragging you out of the cage, your arms still bound behind your back, and maybe kicking and screaming was not the best reaction, given one of them suddenly backhanded you and shocked you into quietness. A handful of villagers had heard & perhaps caught a glimpse of the debacle and stopped to stare for a moment, before another heavily armed Saxon waved them away. You were brought away from your kinsmen closer to the church, where a foreboding column of wood jutted out of the center of a clearing. Its purpose was made clear as you were made to kneel and your arms were tied to the bough of it, in mockery of a praying position. Public humiliation. Or worse.

Unfortunately worse. A notable crowd had gathered, and though you could not see them, you could hear them mutter amongst themselves somewhere behind you. Some cheered for your punishment, some began to cry, knowing what was coming. The Saxon zealot circled you twice. You did not meet his gaze.

When he spoke, he bellowed his words so that the crowd may hear. "Here we have the little Dane, a fork-tongued thing that has dared to cast aside the love of God! What heresy," he said, his words poisoned with sarcasm & mockery. Somewhere to your left, you heard the squirrely-man's voice call out for mercy. "Please, Eadwulf! This is not the way of God!" Eadwulf simply waved the man away. "These pagans killed more than two dozen of our men at Raculf. Only one death of theirs is a kindness." Death? Oh, no. You did not sign up for this. You don't deserve this. You found a new will to live in the way you squirmed against the bonds to no avail. Fuck.

Eadwulf prowled somewhere behind you, and you felt sweat dripping down your brow. You heard a chain, or a whip maybe, rattling, and the sound of the crowd's murmurs growing louder, and how the entire city seemed to grow quieter. This is not how I am meant to die.  

"If you will not accept the love of God, heathen, then bend to his wrath."   How poetic. The first slash was unexpected, painful, making your entire body seize up as if you were dropped into both boiling & freezing water as the cloth & skin between your shoulder blades split, fresh blood spilling down the already-stained tunic. The second came only a few seconds after, worse than the first, and you let out a scream loud enough to frighten a flock of crows from a nearby tree. You felt warmth on your back. Whenever you moved, you could feel the lashes rubbing against the dirty & coarse clothing, made doubly worse by the dull, throbbing pain of the arrows. The third came nearly half a minute later, unexpected, and you screamed again. Then the fourth, fifth & sixth came in quick succession. You felt bile rise in your throat, spilling out onto the too-soft grass beneath you, onto the lumber in front of you. The seventh, eight, ninth and tenth came and went, and in your shocked, adrenaline-addled state, you barely felt them. You felt yourself grow weaker against the pole, the too-warm sensation of your own blood running down your back almost a comfort. Eadwulf said something else, you don't quite remember, and then the crowd dispersed. You were left there to die a martyr.

You don't know exactly when you had passed out, but you awoke during the quiet coolness of the night to a blurry image of the strange hooded Norse woman in front of you, cursing. "Are you still alive, kona? Stay with me," she said, voice somehow strained yet comforting all the same. You could only barely lift your head to look her in the eye, to which she cursed a little more colorfully. "I'm getting you out of here." She cut you loose from the wood, and helped you to stand (which you could barely do) before realizing that wasn't really an option. Cursing even more colorfully, a feat you didn't know she could accomplish, she took her hood off & draped it over your back, making you sharply inhale as the cloth stuck to the dried blood at your back. "I know, little crow. I know it hurts, but please, you must stay with me." She whistled faintly, and a black horse came trotting over, giving you a weary look. Even the animals had pity! Or maybe it didn't want some half-dead creature on it's back. Either way, she set you on the saddle, sitting behind you so that you didn't fall off during the ride, apologizing immediately for any discomfort the position might cause you. Before she could grasp the reins, you stopped her. 

"Please…" your voice was hoarse, and you did not recognize it. "Please, my friends, my kin… are they still imprisoned?" The woman made some sort of sound, as if she had forgotten of the others she passed by today. "Yes, they are, but I fear it will be some time before they are freed. When we get back to my home, I will send my best warriors to retrieve them. Does that sound okay?" You could only nod your head, the simple action sending your world off kilter. She bid the horse to trot out of Canterbury to an unknown destination, breaking into a full gallop once you had left the city's boundaries. Both you and the Norsewoman understood you had mere hours left. She tried to keep you awake on the journey, asking questions about your name, clan and where you were from, though she mostly got one-worded answers.

"Are you a Dane?" "Yes." You pass over a bridge, the woods of England looking all the same to you.

"Why have you come here?" "Storm." An answer she didn't understand at the time, but continued regardless. The landscape slowly changed from forest to open plain, then to forest, then to marsh. You crossed two more bridges. It was your turn to ask the questions.

"What is your name?" Your speech was slurred, more incoherent. "Eivor."

"Why were you in Canterbury?" A question that she did not outright answer. "Looking for someone."

"Where are we going?"

"Ravensthorpe." A place you did not know, nor seen on any map.  "We're almost there. Stay with me."

You couldn't fight to stay awake anymore. "I'm sorry," was all you said before slumping forward on her horse.

She thought you'd died, grabbing hold of your wrist and feeling a wave of relief at finding your faint pulse. She rode twice as hard to her home then, only taking another hour.

When you awoke, you were not dead, nor in your own bed, and could feel bandages straining around your chest, and the scent of herbs filled your senses.

#i copy-pasted the raw html directly from ao3 which was copypasted from google docs so the formatting might be a little wonky #ac valhalla #valhalla #my writing #eivor #lady eivor #f!eivor x reader #eivor x reader #tumblr pls dont block it again..... #ac valhalla spoilers

[just-a-fangirl13]

Quarantine + N95 + Landline + Telescope + Social Distance

A small MacRiley piece I came up with while on twitter but the idea was so pure I had to write it...hopefully I can do it justice. If you want to use it go right ahead!

FAIR WARNING: its a quite cheesy and I teared up a bit...Just had the inspiration to write this one today I guess...

Mac’s singing was just teased yesterday so I took inspiration for this piece from that. Hope you like it!

Spoiler for season 5 I guess?!

*****************

Riley was cleaning up her room. Well technically it wasn’t hers. It was one of the rooms in Mac’s house. She had to keep reminding herself that this situation was not permanent. That she couldn't get too attached. The pandemic would eventually end and she would have to move out, but right now she was quarantining with Mac and Bozer. 

it was dangerous. Bozer knew her secret and she knew Boze. Riley knew he would never tell Mac, but that didnt mean he wouldn't try and set them up anyways.

She rolled her eyes and smiled thinking of Bozer’s previous attempts at leaving them alone in the past few months, always slinking off to bed early with the fake yawns while they were watching Star Wars or even when they were all camping in tents around Mac’s fire pit because they were just that bored. Riley had told him to cut it out but he just played innocent. As if she couldnt read her little brother.

She grabbed the Chinese take out boxes off her desk looked over at her much cleaner room. She still had her new rig’s parts splayed out all over the desk surrounded by a bunch of wires and 2 screens. It was her little quarantine project and she was making good progress building up a rig from scratch. 

Riley opened her room and door and was just about to close it and step out when she thought she heard a ukulele. Mac’s door was just slightly open and the sound of the string instrument was definitely coming from there.

She could tell Mac was strumming the strings and testing the notes, the woody sound of the ukulele reaching her ears as she stood outside her room which was close enough to his for her to hear now that her door was open.

But then he started singing, his voice floating through the air, through his room and out the door into the hallway, where Riley was now standing. She silently walked towards his door, being careful not make any sound so she could hear him play just for a few seconds.

Riley was completely taken aback. Mac could play the ukulele? She had never in her life thought Angus MacGyver could sing let alone play an instrument. She knew he loved his 80′s pop songs and had heard his occasional humming and impromptu jamming sessions while they were going anywhere in his truck but this was something else. Something she couldnt even describe.

His voice was soft and mellow as if he was just testing it and it felt personal. Riley felt like she was intruding but she couldnt make herself move. His voice had completely captivated her, holding her feet in place. 

Of course Mac could sing and play the ukulele. He could save the world with a Swiss army knife and some paperclips. He could risk his life for people he didnt even know. People who didnt even deserve it at times. He was so many things to Riley. Her best friend, a part of her small family and the boy she was in love with.

The thought hit her all of a sudden. The exact way it had after they had stopped the German bomb from going off. All of a sudden she was back there holding Mac’s hand. 

The thought that would change everything, hitting her like lightning. 

The thought she had never considered. Never let herself think about. She was in love with her best friend. 

That it had always been Mac. 

Her mind betrayed her and it flashed back to the moment they had hugged and held hands in the barely standing building in Germany and then to the time he had reached for her hand when the Reaper missile intended for Codex was about to kill them.

He had never brought it up again and so Riley hadn’t either. Though she knew exactly what it was. Mac had held her hand because he was scared. It didnt mean anything. She remembered his words, what he had told her and nobody else, that he was afraid of dying alone. 

That’s all it was in that moment. His fear.

Mac’s tone shifted to something less gentle but brighter and he was now singing lyrics she could almost make out and she smiled to herself. 

Was he singing about Dr. Fauci? Riley strained to hear and she realised it was probably something Mac had written himself.

The words rhymed and flowed like a stream, Mac’s voice the current driving the song. 

A huge grin spread across her face. Even during such a bleak situation, he had found something that had unintentionally brought a smile to her face. 

It hurt a little knowing that she would never truly be able to tell Mac how much he meant to her. How much he had changed her life when he had got her out of that prison. 

He had been a wreck the last 10 months because of Codex and she really wished she could have done more to somehow help him through it. To some how tell him things would get better. That his grief would lessen and his broken heart would heal.

That was why she had gone after him when he went rogue. She trusted him maybe even more than she trusted herself. She didnt hesitate even a second when she got a chance to ditch everything and save him. She would take that risk all over again.

Riley forced herself to walk away before Mac could find out she had been listening in.

******************

Bozer stood at the end of the hallway that led to Mac and Riley’s respective rooms, when he heard what he was sure was Mac singing. When he looked around the corner he saw Riley standing silently in the hallway lost in thought, listening to Mac play.

Bozer’s heart broke for both his best friends. 

They were so close yet so far apart. 

Riley had realised she had feelings for Mac. The last time he brought it up she was in denial. Bozer knew it hurt her every time he asked her how she was doing but he had to do it. He had to remind the one woman who had been there for Mac through thick and thin, that she had those feelings.

Bozer had to admit, even he had had his doubts when it came to Mac. Mac had been so broken and lost, that he wasn't sure if his best friend had finally shattered after his dad’s death. 

But not Riley, never Riley. She risked everything when she went after him.

Her life. Her career. Her family. Her freedom.

He knew Mac had felt something for Riley years ago but had backed away because of Bozer, because Bozer was too blind to see that his genius best friend had a crush on Riley Davis, the newest addition to their team.

He wished he could go back and tell his old self that he and Riley would be great friends, close even. 

But what Mac and Riley can have would be something for the history books. If only he had noticed those feelings in Mac sooner. He vowed to be more vigilant which is why he caught the looks between him and Desi.

Not like that had turned out well.

Eventhough Mac and Desi were still together-kinda- Bozer knew something had shifted between Mac and Riley. There was this undercurrent of something new, hiding just beneath the surface and it wasn't just from Riley.

Mac had faith in the universe so Bozer would too. 

He silently asked the universe to get these two together, because no two people had ever been made more perfect for each other than Mac and Riley. 

No other best friends he knew were this in sync with each other, had this much faith and trust in each other’s abilities and he knew that eventually no two people would ever love each other more than them

They just had to see it.

#macriley #macgyver #macxriley #macriley fanfic #Angus MacGyver #riley davis #macgyverfanfic #macrileyfanfic #wilt bozer #Lucas till #Tristin Mays #Justin hires #cbs #macgyvercbs

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 126

Blehhh another one that I didn’t queue ahead of time and therefore am posting a few hours late. (thank you @baelpenrose for reminding me. Again.)

I really hate when this happens...  I plan on adding the other chapters that are ready to my queue tonight so this doesn’t happen for at least a few weeks.

That said, this chapter was a huge step outside of my comfort zone, because it deals with a culture other than my own/Sophia’s and her experience of having it shared with her.  There is absolutely no way my research could come even close to the kind of cultural knowledge someone who actually lives it daily, and I am well aware that this reflects in Sophia’s experience in this chapter.

And it is meant to reflect, I’ll be honest. I never wanted Sophia to be infallible or to know everything all the time. With that said, I very much welcome any suggestions from anyone who does live this culture daily, so I can keep including it in a more ongoing way.  I specifically created a character in this chapter to give me an opening for that.

“Ow!” I muttered as I stabbed my finger with a pin for the sixth time in ten minutes. “This is a lot harder to do when you can’t see what you’re doing.”

“It does take practice,” Muna, the woman helping me, admitted as she patiently pulled the folds in the scarf over my head to be more snug. “I have been doing this since I was a small child, and I still prick my fingers from time to time.”

I took a deep breath and tried again, determined and reminding myself that it was a good thing that I wasn’t automatically good at something I was learning from another culture.  Muna was one of several Muslim women on the ship who were hosting an open seminar on Women in Islam, and currently we were in a session on the various forms of hijab and what it meant to these women.  I glanced at Hannah with a sliver of envy, since her experience as a weaver and seamstress allowed her to at least pin hers in place without drawing blood.

Charly, at least, was in a similar boat to me.  I could see her poking uncomfortably at the snug folds surrounding her face, and started to worry.  Thankfully, the woman helping her stepped back, seemed to consider something, and then shook her head and hastily unpinned the fabric before shaking it out.  Holding out a smaller piece of black fabric, she got a nod from Charly before pulling a stretchy cap over Charly’s hair and tugging it down over her forehead slightly. With that, she draped the larger piece of fabric more loosely and secured it with a brooch at the shoulder.  Charly grinned with a deep breath and nodded - obviously much more comfortable.

This was the final part of the seminar, but the entire session has been absolutely fascinating. From the legal history of women’s roles in Islam, to comparisons with other religions - I had no idea that Orthodox Jewish women wore wigs or scarves after they married, for the same reason Muslim women practiced hijab - all the way through the astrophysics used to determine which way they needed to face when they prayed.  The sheer idea that they were so dedicated to their beliefs that they had learned astrophysics to adhere to them was so humbling that it took my breath away.

One thing that had brought a chuckle from me was finally getting the answer to a question Arthur had asked at Jokul’s trial before the Council: Is certain meat kosher or halal, neither, or both?

It turned out that, while the Jewish members of the Ark had largely agreed that the ‘pork’ from the food consoles was kosher - as it was synthetic and had never been alive - but still refrained from eating it, pork was one of the only kosher foods not to be considered halal, since the Qur’an specifically bans eating swine, by name.  However, meat that would normally be considered ‘game’ and therefore prohibited were allowed to be eaten as it was created by the consoles specifically for food purposes, and was therefore considered cattle.  Miys had even insisted, before leaving Earth orbit, that the protein stores be prayed over and blessed as frequently as needed, even though the meat had never been alive and therefore could not be blessed upon slaughter.

To say I was impressed by it all was an insulting understatement.

Finally, my hijab was pinned to Muna’s minimal satisfaction and she was showing me how to put my glasses back on without disturbing it. Once that was done, I took a look around the room to see how everyone else was fairing.  Xiomara’s hair was covered in a more turban-style wrap, with another woman demonstrating how much more freely it allowed her to move while staying secure. Parvati’s hijab was much more free-flowing and she was currently demonstrating how to wrap a sari in what had to be the most beautiful culture exchange I had ever seen, as both women tried to figure out the best way to lay the folds of the hijab to flow into the folds of the sari.

If there had been a competition, however, I feel my sister would have won, hands down.  Her already black attire had been topped with a matching shayla, that made her grey eyes seem even larger and brighter than normal. I would have looked like an old Russian grandmother, but she managed to look ethereal and mysterious, floating around the room with an expert flair of her skirt every time she turned.  I was so distracted trying to figure out how she did that, I barely noticed in time where she was headed, or that Muna was right behind her.

The room fell silent as Muna asked for everyone’s attention, before turning to Tyche. “On behalf of the Council, I want to thank all of you for sharing your history and culture so freely.  I don’t think I’m overstepping when I say we are all very grateful for your time, patience, and effort.  To show our appreciation, Councilor Xiomara Kalloe and Assistant Councilor Hannah Bodenheimer have prepared a gift for you all.”

Xiomara’s grin could have powered the Ark for a year as she and Hannah brought an enormous storage chest forward.  I couldn’t blame her - ever since the seminar had been planned, this particular gift had been in the works.  Muna gasped when they opened the chest, causing everyone in the room to lean forward.  In the corner of my eye, I could see Charly clapping her hands excitedly.

“This one is yours,” Hannah explained as she lifted a scarf from the chest and handed it to Muna. One by one, each woman who had planned the seminar and helped execute it was called forward and given their own scarf, each one made by Hannah and Derek specifically for that woman.  Ever since he had given our ‘family’ our own scarves years ago, the color combinations and designs had been in high demand, especially since Derek was not inclined to produce them on-demand, but only for special people.  When Hannah had explained her request to him, however, he had simply asked for photos of the women and what they liked doing before giving her the designs for each one so that she could weave them.

While I would never be able to follow his thought process behind each design - some were geometric, some were swirled, others had stripes - none failed to delight the recipient.  I could see the relief on Xiomara’s face, clear as day.  The entire idea behind these seminars was to share cultures we knew little about or drastically misunderstood, and as a result we had no real idea how to show our appreciation.  When Grey had suggested the scarves, pointing out that everyone liked having clothes that suited them, we had taken a leap of faith and gone all in.

Now we just had to figure out how to thank Derek.

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#the Miys #humans are weird #humans are wonderful #cultural exchange #found family #science fiction #my writing #hfy #earth is space australia #haw #humans are space fae #aliens #apocalypse #post-apocalypse #post apocalyptic #original fiction #hope #space #the one where I tried to write meeting hijabi