#protecting their son's happiness at the cost of their daughter's safety yet again

[missfrieden]

Tech as a father Chapter 29

Wow, nearly 30 chapters in, and not close to the finish. And let me tell you all a big fat Thanks. Never did I dream of that my 'strange' stories could entertain and be liked by others.

Masterlist

Chapter 29: Dreams

Tech's dream transported him back to that fateful day when the secrecy of Orion's birth had hung heavy in the air. He relived every moment with vivid clarity, from the urgent message that had come from Amanda to the rush to prepare the ship. In his dream, he saw the nondescript planet where they had chosen to meet, far away from prying eyes. Amanda's distress had been palpable, and Tech had rushed to her side without a second thought. They had known the risks, the danger of their forbidden love and the consequences it would bring.

The memory of that day played out before him like a holo-recording. He had been there with her, guiding her through the labour, even as his own heart raced with fear and excitement. Amanda, despite her training as a healer, had been unable to assist much due to the intensity of the pain. It had been a challenging and emotional experience for them both. As he dreamed, Tech remembered the moment Amanda had finally given birth, their eyes locked in shared anticipation. The cries of their new born had filled the small, dimly lit area of the Havoc Marauder, and they had held their breath, not knowing if they would welcome a son or a daughter into their lives. He could not dare to look what it is at first, too much was he worried and focused. And never did he think an umbilical cord was so hard to cut.

And then, in his dream, he saw the two of them, Amanda and himself, making the decision together to name their child Orion. It had been a name chosen with love, symbolizing the stars that had brought them together and would forever bind them as a family. Tech's dream was bittersweet, a reminder of the love he shared with Amanda and the sacrifice they had made to keep their son safe. It was a reminder of the bond he had with Orion, a bond that he would protect at all costs, even if it meant facing the ever-watchful Kaminoans.

Tech's dream dissolved into the background as Orion's cries pulled him back to the present. His heart raced for a different reason now, and he acted on instinct, scooping his precious son into his arms with a gentleness that contrasted his earlier agitation. As he held Orion close, Tech felt a rush of parental love and responsibility. The dream of Orion's birth served as a poignant reminder of why he had to protect and care for his son so vigilantly. The bond between them was unbreakable, and Tech would do whatever it took to ensure Orion's safety and happiness. Without a second thought, Tech moved swiftly to change Orion's diapers, his skilled hands working deftly. He knew the routine well by now, having cared for Orion for months, and the cries began to subside as Orion felt the comforting touch of his father. Tech couldn't help but smile as he finished the diaper change, marvelling one again at the tiny life in his arms.

Once Orion was clean and comfortable, Tech settled him against his chest, his fingers gently patting his back. The soothing motion, combined with the warmth of his father's embrace, gradually calmed the infant. Orion's cries turned into soft whimpers and then silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of his father's heartbeat. Tech remained standing, holding Orion close, as he looked down at his son with a sense of deep love and devotion. The dream may have been a distant memory, but the reality of his life now, caring for Orion, was a constant source of joy and purpose.

Tech chuckled softly at Orion's playful tugging on his t-shirt. It was a simple yet heart-warming interaction that never failed to brighten his days. He carefully cradled Orion with one arm while using the other to prepare a bottle. In which he came oddly enough very skilled. As he worked efficiently, measuring the formula and warming the water to the perfect temperature, Tech couldn't help but think about how much their routines had changed or more likely evolved since Orion's birth. The sleepless nights and constant feedings were a stark contrast to the quiet, orderly life he had known before.

But he wouldn't trade it for anything. Tech had found a new purpose in caring for Orion, and every smile, every giggle, and every tiny hand reaching out to him reinforced the depth of their bond. With the bottle ready, Tech shifted his attention back to his son. Orion's eyes, wide with curiosity, followed every movement. Tech smiled down at him as he offered the bottle, and Orion eagerly latched on, little hands gripping it with determination.

Watching his son feed contentedly, Tech couldn't help but feel a profound sense of fulfilment. Their shared moments, whether quiet or lively, were what made life truly meaningful, the Republic did slide drop down a few places and yet he will stay loyal. Tech's analytical mind couldn't help but marvel at the intricate blend of features that made up Orion's face. He carefully observed the curve of his son's jaw, the shape of his nose all similar to his features, and the way his eyelashes framed those bright blue eyes a trait he knew was passed down from Amanda.

The soft brown curls that adorned Orion's head were like a mirror image of his mother's, and it never ceased to amaze Tech how genetics had combined to create this unique little individual. Every detail, every nuance of Orion's appearance felt like a connection to Amanda, a reminder of the love they shared and the life they had created together. As Tech continued to watch Orion feed, he couldn't help but whisper a few words to his son. "You have your mother's eyes, Orion," he said softly, knowing that Amanda couldn't hear him, but feeling compelled to share this observation with their child, no matter how often he whispered it to him. Tech's heart swelled with love and pride as he continued to bond with his son, grateful for every moment they had together.

Chapter 30

Reblogs are very welcome and I am open for feedback, as english is not my first language, so maybe my sentences may be weird sometimes, or I write a word wrong even with google, or I use a wrong word for an item.

Tag: @spectacular-skywalker @aalizazareth @neyswxrld @clonethirstingisreal @sleepycreativewriter

#tbb #the bad batch #tbb tech #clone force 99 #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #bad batch tech #daddy tech #tech as a father #tech x oc #tech fanfic #tech fanfiction #tech fluff #the dad batch #the uncle batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars #star wars clone wars #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #tech bad batch

[aquanova99]

When I tell you that I am sleepy, im telling you I typed this ask twice in the search bar. 😫

Have you given your in-depth thoughts on Esme before? Thanks to many in the fandom yourself included, I’ve grown to like Jane, Rosalie, and Leah. I wanna love the women so bad (minus Alice). But tell me, do you think Steph just did her dirty? Do you think she’s a doormat? Is there something in her that you like that I can’t see yet? She’s gorgeous, but her characterization is hard to want to defend.

I have to agree with you anon, love Elizabeth Reaser but Esme seems to be lacking. Its no ones fault but SMeyers, but we are just not given enough. And what we do get is pretty strange.

I don't necessarily see Esme as a doormat but as someone who needs is clinging to this illusion of a perfect family. She's a stay at home mom for kids who don't eat, don't make too much of a mess and don't need to be coddled/cuddled. What on earth is she doing all day? They don't even have any dust to shed, so she cannot be cleaning endlessly. Does she just watch daytime soap operas and Ellen? She doesn’t even have a car, I’m so serious it’s in the illustrated guide. She can’t even pretend to be human. I mean we know her control isn’t great so it’s probably for the best but still, give her a minivan for gods sakes. As another woman with a terrifying tragic backstory, you would think there was more depth but the more you peel back on Esme we just get nothing? No thoughts head empty kind of vibe. I say this because upon trying to find exactly what chapter it was (Eclipse CH 9 btw) Esme suggests that a vampire might be in Bellas room because they are curious about the Cullens and they might not have any bad intentions. Ma'am, your future daughter in law is walking safety hazard to herself, please get it together, no random vampire is going to come in a humans room looking for more vampire friends.

She also does not seem to care for human life as much as the Cullens all say they do, since we see in Midnight Sun that when Carlisle sent Esme to try and get her to tell Edward he should stay away from Bella, Esme is perfectly fine with him eating her if it makes Edward happy and less stressed. I--

And while we are on Edward, there does seem to be that weird boy mom energy with him. She tells Bella hes the best out of all the Cullens, like her other "children" aren't right there??? I mean most likely Edward reminds him of the son she lost and what he may have turned out to be, but Edward is quite literally a weirdo. But at least if SMeyer had dug into that maybe it would have made her character more interesting. Instead she is given the ability to love? I just dont really get that. Shes also more than happy, and not at all triggered by Ragdoll. Bella is the hero once again because her daughter (that she never takes care of) has given Esme, and Rosalie the fulfilment of the baby they lost or never had.

I would have loved if after Bella took Rigatoni, she pulls Carlisle aside and says she needs some time away because shes realizing that it isnt her baby and it never will be. And the sped up process probably would hurt her too.

There isnt really anything to hate about her, she is the only Cullen besides Carlisle that doesnt call Jacob and the rest of the Quileute's dogs or mutts, so she does get some bonus points there. I think my biggest disdain of hers is how much she enables Edward. Not in the way Alice does, just in the way that he can seem to do no wrong. Rosalie even calls herself and the others substitutes. Which is so sad, but Esme is only like 26, so the Cullens probably cant fit into the ' i need to protect these babies at all costs,' it probably breaks the illusion. Which is why I imagine Edward, a boy that was probably skin and bones about to die of the flu probably brings out her maternal side, he is going to be permanently look like a sick child that needs her care, because as much as everyone loves Rob, Edward was only 17. A sick, almost dead 17 year old boy from the 1900's, mans was itty bitty (theory???that thats why Bella also was drawn to him, since she always feels like she has to take care of people)

Honestly, I think I wrote her as an unhinged antagonist once because I feel like she could be in the right circumstances, but because of the lack of information she could go either way. She's just another character we have to like because she likes Bella. Even then, its always to serve Bella. I have my own headcanons on how she should be because in the end, if we go by SMEYERS CANON then we know that the mindset you die in, is the mindset you stay in. Meaning Esme should be terrified of being intimate with a man even if it is Carlisle. Probably more so since her first husband was so charming until he wasnt. She should be in a state of constant depression because she literally unalived herself. But she was turned and wheee I get to be with the man I had a crush on when I was a teenager (we are not digging that up) and wheee I get to be a mom to an angsty emo child.

To give her some hope, I will say that its all a trauma response, which should be plausible thanks to canon but in my world it can. But boy, getting her to open up to some kind of vampire therapist and who knows what they could find.

#aquas asks #esme cullen

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Love, fear, peace.

My Masterlist  

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: “I wanted to request an imagine where the reader and Ivar have a 4-5 year old daughter. And while Ivar is usually very cruel, he'll do anything for his little princess. And she asks to paint his nails and have him join her for a tea party, so he does, as long as it's a secret between them but the reader ends up seeing them and her thoughts on it? I'm in a big mood to read Ivar fluff”

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: A lil bit of angst, my best attempt at fluff, just soft stuff all around, probably ooc

A/N: My friends, may I interest you in an AU where all five sons of Ragnar are alive and happy? We call it ‘denial’ where I’m from, but yeah, in this universe they’re all alive, Sigurd married off to some Saxon Princess, Ubbe in Dublin, Ivar King of Kattegat and Hvitserk with him with a family of his own goddamit, Björn fuck-knows-where avoiding commitment like he was born to do, and that’s it. Ta-da.

Ástríðr is a name derived from the Old Norse elements áss "god" and fríðr "beautiful, beloved"

Taglist: (If you wanna be added or removed lemme know!) @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @1950schick​ @ietss​   @peachyboneless​ @encounterthepast​ @maggiescarborough​   @chibisgotovalhalla​ @receptionistfromhell​​ 

Hvitserk greets you with a kiss on your cheek, and you thank the gesture with a smile, though your eyes are scanning the main hall.

“Where’s Ivar?” You ask as he walks at your side, greeting a few people with false smiles and courteous nods.

Hvitserk only shrugs, “I thought he was with you.”

“No, we were supposed to talk with one of the earls about the effect of a high tide, but he wasn’t there.”

“And how was it?”

“Dull,” You reply sincerely, “But I have an idea of where my husband is.”

The other man betrays a smile, “Can you blame him? It is hard to say no to her.”

Oh, you know that. She has him -and you- powerless to deny her anything since she first came to this world.

Try as he might to deny it, to keep the idea of the ruthless king that loves nothing alive, to mantain the façade of how nothing makes Ivar the Boneless falter; your daughter is an adorable force to be reckoned with, capable of making even the King of Kattegat surrender.

It is no secret, for you or any soul that encounters your husband, that Ivar loves his family, his wife and daughter, like nothing else.

The world will never forget the battles he’s won and lost, the wars he started, the kingdoms he reduced to ash, the lands he conquered. The world will never forget of all he did in the name of his ambition, in the name of his fame.

But the world will never forget what he did in the name of love either. Countless deals made, countless fights, countless plans devised and even more sacrifices made so that he could grant his daughter the safeties she deserved; so that he can give her the world and, when time comes, have her step sure, knowing the very earth and the very skies are hers.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you blink past the sleep that weighs on your lids. You find yourself as you were, resting comfortably on a seat that has progressively become just a pile of pillows and furs since the start of winter.

You still feel the comfortable weight of Ivar’s head on your lap, and you can make out his voice speaking quietly. Looking down you find him talking to the small bump on your stomach, the evidence of your child growing inside of you.

At the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, Ivar looks up and offers you a smile, before scooting even closer to your stomach.

“Tell your mother to go back to sleep. You and I aren’t done talking, Princess.”

A part of you is tempted to taunt him about how the might Ivar the Boneless is so smitten by a child not even born yet, but you choose instead to bask in the softness in his expression, in the happiness that curves his mouth.

Still, after a few moments, you offer, “They could be a Prince. Ivarsson.”

Your husband hums, presses a kiss against your stomach and settles again on his back with his head on your lap.

“We will have sons, I know,” He tells you, smile faint as he closes his eyes, “But first, we will have a daughter.

He speaks with such certainty that you cannot help but huff a laugh. Still, it is a nice thought, to have a Princess to call your own, a little girl, blessed by the Gods.

“She will be just like her mother, and she will be ours to spoil and take care of.”

“You speak as if you wouldn’t spoil our sons, Ivar. Someone else might believe that lie, but not me.” You tease, eyebrows lifted.

“Mhm, but a father grows jealous of his sons, and their fame, their triumphs.”

“No daughter of mine, or of yours, will be content without her own triumphs and conquests.”

“I know,” He replies without hesitation, proud smile widening and eyes opening to gaze up at you, “Like I said, she’ll be just like her mother.”

It was never a secret, a surprise, for you to witness Ivar love your child before she was even born; to feel his joy and his anticipation and his love in the way he spoke of that daughter you’d have, and all the sons and daughters that would come after.

You learned to love him years ago, and found beneath the cruelty and venom and bloodthirst a man that loves intensely, that willingly gave his heart to you to keep safe the day he made you his wife. So his love doesn’t surprise you, his devotion to his family doesn’t make you falter.

There were still many things that made you falter, that made you see everything with new eyes, during those months while you carried Ástríðr and in the years you’ve been fortunate enough to have her.

One of them was how the sons of Aslaug, much to your surprise and despite all their other failings, had been raised to be utterly devoted to their families. Hvitserk was almost giddy at the possibility of a niece or nephew that he could keep close to him, unlike Ubbe’s children all the way in Dublin. Ubbe, always the father figure, visited more than once and kept watchful eyes not only on you and his brother, but on everything, as if from Dublin he could look over all of you like he did while growing up. To your surprise, even Sigurd, past the animosity between him and Ivar -and all the disagreements he has had with you over the years, of course- sent word from Northumbria wishing you three the protection of the Gods.

Another of those discoveries, sadly not as heartwarming, was to witness the burden your husband carried and not being able to do anything about it. The more easily-soothed fears, like what your daughter would think of him, or whether she would be born healthy, were quietened by your voice promising him over and over that any child of yours would love him like no other, or by the soft kicks of your daughter against where his palm rested on your stomach, making tears shine in Ivar’s eyes every time.

There were deeper fears, and fears that plagued you too, that you couldn’t so easily soothe. The whisper in the back of his mind that happiness is nothing, that everything you love eventually you lose, that all his cruel ways and his mistakes would one day cost him what he holds dear. The blue eyes of the man you love, so used to seeing what others cannot, so used to planning ahead and seeing the world like his enemy does, seeing a world where at any time his fame and his conquests could cost him your life or your daughter’s.

For a man as cruel and vicious as Ivar, it is easy to forget he is not something otherworldly, some demon like the Christians say, some beast like your own countrymen claim. Sometimes, in all his rage and all his chaos, it is easy to forget he is a husband, a father, a man.

And like any man with a beating heart, especially a heart so wholly owned by his wife and daughter; Ivar fears.

Ástríðr blinks big and strikingly blue eyes, and you smile widely, unable to keep yourself from bringing your daughter closer and pressing a kiss on her head, delighting yourself in the familiar and comforting smell of your baby.

“Good morning, little one.” You whisper, and she coos in response, as if she understands.

“Is she…is she alright?” Ivar asks, moving closer to you and looking at her over your shoulder.

“Of course she is,” You smile down at your daughter, your finger tapping the tip of her tiny nose. “Our beautiful girl, she’s more than alright. She’s perfect.”

“She was…coughing.”

“That’s something babies do, Ivar, she’s fine.” You reassure him, only slightly bothered by the fact that he woke you up because your daughter coughed. You adjust your grip on Ástríðr, let her nuzzle against the column of your throat and find her sleep again.

Ivar drops his head to your shoulder, sighing against your skin and laying quite a bit of his weight on you. You sit there, your daughter against you and your husband letting you hold him up as he releases a tension you didn’t realize was there, and feel a pang of something in your heart.

After a few moments, you hold back a sigh, you try biting back your worry, and whisper, “You should sleep, love.”

“Mhm,” Ivar mumbles, but it is an argument, even if he doesn’t find the words to voice it yet. “Later.”

He has taken the awful habit of not sleeping at night. Each night when you settle in bed with Ástríðr nestled close to you, and Ivar holds you both close in his embrace; he remains awake, vigilant and expectant, watching the shadows for ghosts and enemies. You’ve noticed him faltering during the day, worsening his pain by not letting himself rest like should.

And it has only been worse since Hvitserk has been gone.

You know there are few people Ivar trusts fully, even fewer he entrusts the safety of his wife and daughter to. With just being here, Hvitserk granted his brother a peace nothing else can, a certainty that there was someone’s back to lean his own against, a promise that he could lower his guard and rest assured he wasn’t alone.

It is just a matter of days before Hvitserk returns, but you refuse to let Ivar run himself ragged.

So, you use your and not holding Ástrídr to wrap around his waist, and slowly move the three of you, as well as you can manage, back to lay on the bed.

With a slightly startled breath Ivar opens his eyes, focuses almost frantically on you and Ástríðr. You sigh again, but make use of the loss of his weight against you to settle against the pillows, holding your daughter better against your chest, your hand covering her back and holding her gently.

When you’re certain she’s comfortable, you lift your free arm and run your fingers through Ivar’s hair.

“You’ll rest.” You order, your eyes on your husband’s. He wants to argue, you know he does, a war between exhaustion and stubbornness, but it seems the pull is strong enough to even make him cave.

Ivar settles on your opposite shoulder from your daughter, his hand warm and rough as it settles over yours on her back. You chase tension off his back by running your hand up and down his back, and as both he and your daughter sleep safe and warm against you, you allow yourself a whisper of gratitude to the Gods.

You never knew what the Seer had meant when he told you so many years ago that ‘he can only use one hand and chooses to hold the sword, and for that you’ll need to hold the shield’, but now, as you hold your world close against you, you dare think that you understand the Ancient One’s words.

Eventually, the fear of something stealing her in the middle of the night passes. It always returns, that irrational fear he has that he will lose it all, that frantic paranoia that if he doesn’t plan, if he doesn’t prepare, they will take you both from him.

But as Ástríðr grows healthy and lively, the fears dwindle, or maybe they just change. And for a man that scorned the very uttering of the word, Ivar finds peace.

Through the halls, you follow the familiar sound of Ivar’s war cry, though quieter, and the adorable giggles of your daughter. Walking into your rooms, you make sure to remain hidden as you watch Ivar on the floor, holding himself up on his arms, mocking a taunt towards your daughter, daring the little shieldmaiden to attack.

A part of you is glad that this is a secret, a side of your husband, of your family, that the world will never know of. The world needn’t know of how easily Ástríðr makes her mother and father cave to her every wish, the world needn’t know of how fiercely and uncondicionally she is loved; only she needs to know of it, andn you and Ivar have made sure she lives a life knowing how loved she is.

You lean your shoulder on a pillar near the door, arms crossed over your chest but still betraying a smile.

Ástríðr brandishes a wooden sword at her father, big eyes strikingly alike Ivar’s when she focuses and finds her determination.

“I will defeat you!” She exclaims, the seriousness in her expression making your chest warm.

“You’re just a shieldmaiden, you can’t defeat me!” Ivar replies without missing a beat, faking a monster’s swipe with a hand that tries grabbing at her small foot.

Your daughter jumps out of the way with a squeal, but quickly furrows her brow adorably and lifts her chin, stubborn and arrogant.

Gods, Ivar is right, she looks so much like you.

“I am Ástríðr Ivarsdottir, I’ll always win!”

“Ah, you will, won’t you?” Ivar teases, letting go of the role of whatever beast he was supposed to be, grabbing onto your daughter and falling on his back with her in his arms, lifting the girl up and making her giggle. “Mighty shieldmaiden you’ll be, my sweet.”

“I know.” She replies without hesitation, startling a laugh out of you.

Two pairs of blue eyes turn to you, and Ástríðr wastes no time in calling out for you, squirming her way out of her father’s grasp and skipping towards you.

You kneel on the ground and welcome your daughter’s enthusiastic embrace, even if it was only this morning you last saw her.

“Did you defeat him, little one?” You ask her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Of course I did, mama.” She replies, almost offended. Of course, look whose daughter you’re asking about a victory in battle, imaginary or not.

You catch Ivar’s eyes and whatever intent you had on chastising him for leaving you to deal with the earl alone vanishes at the softness in his gaze at he looks at you both.

Not many know of Ivar the Boneless’ love. Even fewer know of his fear.

But there’s only a few lucky ones that have seen his happiness, his peace.

You two share a look, a look that speaks not only of gratefulness for one another, but of gratefulness for this perfect blend of the two of you, of your stubbornness and his drive, of his eyes and your hair.

Ivar betrays a small smile and his eyes go to the discarded wooden sword at his side.

“Oi, shieldmaiden!” He calls out, and Ástríðr turns to him without hesitation. “You never leave your weapon behind. It is the one thing, besides your mother and me, that you can trust blindly in this world.”

Ivar motions for the sword, and your daughter dutifully goes to pick it up, only to be ambushed on the way, Ivar’s eyes trapping her to his chest.

She is startled, and lets out a loud and adorable laugh as her father once again drops to the furs at his back, his smile blinding.

“You see? If you’d had your sword, no monster would have gotten you.”

Ástríðr grumbles an argument, but Ivar only snorts a laugh. His eyes lift to yours, and he lifts his hand, calling for the touch of yours, calling for you to join them.

You sigh, but still walk to them and stretch on the furs near the fire, accepting the embrace Ivar offers you when he lifts his free arm.

You nuzzle your nose against his throat, reaching with your hand and taming Ástríðr’s wild hair.

“Do you think one day I could defeat a dragon, like the warriors you tell me about?”

“Mhm, of course. You’ll be the most famous shieldmaiden who has ever lived.” He promises her, pressing a kiss against her hair, his arm tightening and trying to bring you closer even if it is impossible.

___

I struggled a lot writing this, I don’t really know why bc it was a lovely request. I tried my best :)

I hope you liked this, lovely anon! And I’m sorry it took me so long to get it done! I love you!!

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar

[snuggetfish]

Majidad family headcanons..? 🥺👉👈

Say no more 💖 This is LONG so I've put it under the cut!

First off, how many children would Majima want? Frankly, the man’s so happy to be given the chance at fatherhood in the first place that even just one would send him over the moon... but he wouldn’t say no to more. He’s paid enough visits to Kiryu to feel that twinge in his heart, hearing the echo of so many cheery voices around the orphanage. 

So, if it at all possible, he’d love to see his dream about having his own little cuddle puddle of kids become a reality. He’ll maybe slightly underestimate how difficult it’d be to take care of them all, but he’s Majima Goro, moulded by fate to be one tenacious bastard. He’ll pull through, somehow, with the help of a loving partner willing to go the distance with him. However, if he did only have one kid, you can bet they’d be spoiled absolutely rotten. You might think that the roles of good cop/bad cop would be obvious in a crazy yakuza dad+presumably civilian spouse couple, but think again, because Majima is a complete pushover when faced with cute puppy eyes. 

Extra serving of ice cream after dinner? He'll pile gigantic scoops into his bowl and then give up not even halfway through, sliding it towards his child. He can't really wink, but they get the picture. “Who in ever is gonna finish this for me?” Five minutes more at the park? Sure thing, they can have the whole hour and maybe Kiryu-chan might show up in the meantime too so they can... schedule their next fight. No throwing down in front of the kid! I think also once Majima becomes a dad, his priorities shift. Slightly, but noticeably. He still upholds his vicious reputation, but he isn't living at the edge any more, fighting through each day like it's his last, defusing bombs with little regard for safety. If surviving up until now was luck more than anything, with a child in his life, he's going to make damn sure it becomes a certainty. He's got something so very precious to stay alive for.

When they're still very young, Majima would be a great help in comforting them during the night. He typically gets back at late hours anyway and relishes the chance to spend a bit of time with his child, instead of immediately collapsing into a restless sleep like he always used to. If they're awake or crying he'll comfort them as best as he can, even with his whispered voice now hoarser than he remembers it and no knowledge of lullabies... but hey, pop songs will do too. 24h Cinderella anyone? Though if they're sound asleep, he'll stick to just holding their tiny hand for a while, feel it clasp gently around his fingers... 

First things first, the gloves come off, always. "Skinship" is a Japanese word put together from English that I think is great for describing the kind of parent-child intimacy he'd want. On mornings where can afford to sleep in, it wouldn't be uncommon for his spouse to find him on the couch, dozing on and off with the baby nestled on his chest. He's afraid of falling fully asleep and missing the tenderness of the moment, plus his nightmares are not something he'd ever want his child to know... So he'll stay like that, stroking their back and peeking through a lidded eye at his partner who's busy making breakfast. Also on this topic, an idea that occurred to me recently: you know how Majima's tattoo has one of the snakes' heads on the left side of his chest? Well... call him superstitious, but he'd only hold the baby on the right side. Can't have it threatening his sweet pea. 🥺️

What about once they get older? Well probably Majima would start waking up with unexpected “extensions” made this his tattoo, in black marker. Possibly some scribbles on his eye patch as well, which he’ll still proudly wear to work. And if you know what’s good for you, you really don’t want to be the one making fun of a Mad Dog that’s sporting a little heart doodle on his face. Kisses? Yes, absolutely. As we learn from Dead Souls, Majima would not shy away from smooching his child. A “good night” kiss, a “good morning” kiss, a “have a nice day” kiss when they’re off to school. One day the kid complains that his beard’s too scratchy and Majima doesn’t even think twice before he goes back to being clean-shaven. 

I think at some point they would also have to be introduced to the domain they're going to be ruling (though only as children!): the Majima Family. Nishida would be promoted to “designated driver", for a kid all too eager to ride on someone's shoulders while daddy's away in a meeting and the Kamurocho Hills construction site would be getting a new foreman. Their duties would include drawing on the blueprints and shouting words of "encouragement" at the men through dad's loudspeaker, whenever he needs a break. Bet Majima even gets them a little hard hat and everything, custom-made! Ok so it also doesn't take long for them to figure out a fun game to play with the new family members, a hazing ritual basically: show up on the day of their first office duty and annoy the hell out of them. Men were nervous to begin with, but now they're confused and pissed, like who the hell is this brat and who let them in? Kid plays the silent card: doesn't say a word about their name or their dad's, just keeps running around and getting in their business. 

After chasing a lightning-fast kid all around the whole office, Majima comes in and they think they're saved. Surely the boss has 0 tolerance for little intruders.... Though, of course, the intruder immediately runs to daddy and it slowly... very slowly dawns on them. Kid’s grinning from behind a leather-clad leg and the poor newbies have gone white in the face mentally counting how many fingers they're gonna have to give up. But it’s all fun and games... mostly. Of course a Majima descendant would inherit his mischievous nature.

But hey at some point, uncle Saejima comes back. Though Majima’s maybe a little reluctant at first, eventually he can’t but see the value of his kid training with his kyodai in the dojo. For self-defense, but also to develop their athleticism. Saejima’s of course happy to spend time with his niece or nephew, though... you know how in Y4 one of dojo's mechanics is that the students can just skip your lessons if they're not feeling motivated enough? Majima’s munchkin would absolutely do that. Slide underneath the big tiger’s legs and make a run for it! 

I think Majima would find it terribly endearing if the child at some point started dropping Kansai words here and there. And that’s in spite of Saejima chiding him that his own accent is fake and that the kid probably picked it up from the “real source”, a.k.a Saejima himself. Heh, dad and uncle might bicker sometimes, but they both make it clear just how much they love the little one.

Now, raising a child as a high-profile yakuza is obviously not going to be all rainbows and sunshine... I think Majima would love nothing more than to indulge in the cozy fantasy of being an ideal father, spending all his waking moments playing with his kid, putting his energy and creativity to good use, just generally making sure his son or daughter get the best childhood he's never had... but it's a fantasy for a reason, because he's grounded enough in reality to know that it's not going to work out as idyllically as that. 

He's fulfilled his and Saejima's dream of climbing the yakuza ranks, although it's come at the cost of being a notorious figure, with scars both external and internal. How is he going to protect his family? How much time is he really going to be able to dedicate to his kids? How is he going to keep them from walking the same dark path he has? Not a day passes where he doesn’t ask himself all those questions... doubly so on nights where he comes home to find that they’ve wiggled in his bed as well, cozy and safe in his partner’s arms. And it hits him that they’ve already grown up so much and he fears he’s missed out on so much, on making a positive impact in their life...

Ultimately, I don’t believe Majima would want his kids to grow up involved in the yakuza. Yet at the same time he can’t entirely hide his career. Maybe that’s a good thing because it teaches him that it's never as black and white as "if I leave, they'll be safe; if I stay, they'll die". One can raise a child to be strong and, above all, make their own decisions and carve their own path, even as a dad who's for all intents and purposes a criminal. The yakuza are, after all, a fact of everyday living, hidden in plain sight, given how pervasive they are in business and politics. A kid that's seen the flip side of the coin (within reason, because you bet Majima would still be fiercely protective of them) would surely be well equipped for life. It’s what he hopes, at least. If I thought the last ask was long...oh boy. I’d like to deeply thank all my friends off whom I’ve been bouncing these privately ideas for months now!! 💙💙💙 I didn’t think there’d be much interest in Majidad headcanons, but I’m happy to have been proven wrong!

#majima goro #goro majima #dad majima #yakuza headcanons #HEY LISTEN #just last night I hurt myself deeply by modding Majima and the little girl from Dead Souls as Kiryu and Haruka in Kiwami... #screenshots are on my twitter but I might also post them here! #anon asks #answered

[chilling-in-the-dark]

The Superfam as Yandere’s Part 2: Jon Kent

This is a yandere story; it mentions elements of obsession, possessiveness, death, murder, kidnapping, and physical abuse. If any of this is triggering for you, I understand, and you don’t have to read it.

As always feedback is welcomed.

You’d tripped and grabbed on to fourteen-year-old Jon Kent’s upper arm to catch yourself, and when your hand made contact, Jon felt the place you’d touched start to burn. Oh, oh. Oh shit, he thought when he realized exactly what had just happened, how is it he could know you for four years, and yet today was the first time you’d touched him.

After all, you were the daughter of Dick Grayson, younger sister to Mary Grayson. Your father was like another Dad to Damian, so of course, you spent a lot of time with him, and by extension, Jon. Damian was five years older than you, and though his real title was your uncle, he thought of you more as a little sister.

Damian was extremely protective, and Jon knew that even if he couldn’t help it, Damian would never forgive him for being your soulmate. So, he’d kept it quiet, only he didn’t need to, Damian knew and had come to the decision that so long as the Kryptonian didn’t act on the soulmate thing, then everything would be fine. Besides, Damian was busy enough with his own darling, he didn’t have time to worry about something that Jon knew better than to let happen.

To make matters worse, finding out you were his soulmate had brought up memories of Jon’s late mother. When she’d first disappeared, his father had told him that she’d been sick and that his mom was getting help, so if they were lucky, she’d be home with them soon. Jon had believed him, but as it turned out, his father was a liar, his mother wasn’t going to be back with them soon, no, she’d die in some medical mishap.

At least that’s what Clark had told him, it wouldn’t be until much later that Jon found out the truth, but that wasn’t to come not for a few years at least.

Suddenly, Jon had the urge to make you his and keep you that way. Jon hadn’t really had a conversation with his father since his mother died, maybe it was wrong of Jon to blame Clark, but he really didn’t care, his mother was dead, and his father had let it happen.

The possessiveness was because of Kryptonian instinct, at least that’s what the computer in the fortress of solitude had said, Jon would have asked his father, but he found himself avoiding home these days unable to look Clark in the eye without feeling some level of rage.

Jon fought his instincts for as long as he could, but when you were fourteen, and he was sixteen, suddenly he couldn’t anymore. According to his research into mate bonds, this was normal for someone in his situation, he was nearing the age of maturity, and it would start to affect his behavior with his mate. There was no fighting his instincts entirely, so he gave into them in small ways like lending you his jacket when a sudden cold breeze blew by, it helped him control the worst parts of him, the ones that really wanted to keep you by his side forever no matter the cost.

Jon loved the way you looked in his jacket it was like you were basically drowning in the fabric, but more importantly, he loved that it told the world you were his, but then he’d have to remind himself that you weren’t, that you couldn’t be, and that he couldn’t have you because that would be betraying his best friend.

It hadn’t taken Jon long to figure out you liked the slight accent growing up in rural Kansas had gifted him. He found himself playing it up slightly when you were around, he really couldn’t help it, the Kryptonian part of him knew you found it attractive, and it wasn’t going to let a chance to win you over pass him by.

It happened with other things too, like how Jon kept waring that blue flannel you said brought out his eyes, whenever he knew you were going to be around, and how he kept his hair in the cut and style he knew you liked. Sometimes Jon felt like a damn animal nearly shouting, hay look at me I’m healthy and attractive, want to spend the rest of your life with me.

If Damian noticed his friend preening like a peacock for you, he didn’t say anything, then again Damian had been busy with his wife, so he could be forgiven for it, and besides, with Damian busy you’d been spending more one on one time with Jon, and he was living for it.

So much so that Jon kept having to remind himself to slow down, he may have been sixteen, and more than ready to start dating, but you were only fourteen, and Kryptonian instincts be damned he wasn’t going to hurt you by going too fast.

Jon had sworn a vow to himself to keep you safe, no matter the cost, if it meant your safety then Jon would gladly die himself, heck he’d kill the whole planet if it really came down to it. You were everything to him, and in a way, how much his world revolved around you scared him a little. It would be easy to lose himself down that rabbit hole.

When Jon was eighteen he tried to quit you like a drug, avoiding you at all costs, by the end of the week he felt like he was dying, by the end of the month, Jon felt worse than any form of Kryptonite had ever made him. Even the thought of moving hurt, Jon couldn’t see straight if he wanted to, and if he was a guessing person, Jon would say he was running a fever too, judging by the fact that he couldn’t get warm.

Of course, Clark knew what was going on, so long as you were alive, Jon wouldn’t be able to stay away from you, or his body would start fighting him, and if you passed before the two of you had children, Jon would surely wither and die himself. The only reason Clark had survived the death of his wife was because a piece of her still lived on in Jon.

So, wanting to keep that piece of his wife alive Clark did the one thing he knew would save his son, he made up an excuse to leave the planet and called Dick, Clark had told your father about you and Jon as soon as he figured it out himself. Of course, Dick hadn’t been happy about a Kryptonian loving his daughter because the only soulmate bond they had record of was Clarks, and that hadn’t ended well. Though in the end, Dick had decided that he wasn’t going to stand in the way.

Sure, that might have been because while Dick had Mary wrapped around his finger, he didn’t have you because you’d seen with your own eyes how your father treated your mother behind closed doors. Dick wanted you out of the way because you knew far too much, so he didn’t even question when Clark asked you to go to the Kent farm. If you never came back, it would just mean Dick didn’t have to worry about what you knew, or how you could take his wife away from him.

You’d been concerned when Clark called and asked you to look after Jon while he was off-world. Kryptonians were supposed to be immune to earth illnesses, but when you looked at Jon, you started to question that belief.

You pressed your hand to Jon’s forehead to confirm what you already suspected; he was burning up. According to Clark, he’d already tried all of the human fever reducers he could find, and none of them seemed to work. So you’d had to settle for the old school method of bringing down a fever, a cold washcloth on the forehead. After you’d placed it on Jon’s head, he grabbed your hand, pulled it to his cheek and nuzzled into it, you could have sworn you heard him slur the word mine as he did so.

Jon said a lot of things like that for the first couple of days, and you weren’t sure if he meant them or if he was delirious from his fever, but you kind of hoped for the former because over the years you’d fallen in love with him.

Loving Jon made you feel like you were living in some teen soap opera, Damian used to be like a brother to you until you found out that he knew what Dick was doing to your mom, but he did nothing to stop it, and Jon was Damian’s best friend, that was prime drama material. Still, you’d decided that if Jon ever gave you a clear indication that he returned your affections, you’d take him up on it.

Only you couldn’t tell if feverish ramblings counted as a clear sign, on the one hand, he’d rambled for twenty minutes about how pretty your eyes were at one point, but on the other hand that had been when he still had a fever and kept calling water earth juice. So you should probably have discarded anything he said during his entire illness, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

Jon had been better for a few days now, and you really should have gone home, but this was a nice break from your life in Gotham. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that you were only sixteen, you might have never gone home.  As it stood, you were still under eighteen, and eventually, you’d have to go home, but today was not that day. Until Clark came back, you were going to enjoy your little domestic heaven with Jon.

“Breakfast smells good,” Jon mumbled as he stumbled down the stairs, obviously still half asleep. You hadn’t expected Jon to come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist as you cooked, but he did. It was at that moment that you decided to throw caution to the wind because you just didn’t hold someone like he was holding you if you didn’t have feelings for them.

You turned around in Jon’s arms and wrapped your arms around his neck to bring his lips to yours, the kiss was perfect just like everything else about the person in front of you. Jon would have been content to stay like that forever, but unlike him, you needed to breathe, so he didn’t fight you when you pulled away from the kiss.

Jon wasn’t sure what had come over him as you pulled away, but all he could think was mine, mine, mine, mine, to the point he found himself growling, “You’re mine.” As he pulled you right up against him.

“I’m yours,” You confirmed, as you pulled him in for another kiss, If you’d grown up in a healthy family the blatant show of possessiveness might have freaked you out, but you hadn’t, so honestly you found it romantic. Red flags might as well have been green lights to you, and in a way, you were lucky you’d fallen in love with Jon at least he wasn’t like Dick. Jon would never hit you like Dick did your mother.

It was later that night that Jon explained the whole soulmate thing, and for the first time in his life, he felt truly content as he slept because he had you in his arms.

It was a week later when Damian showed up, he’d been worried about both you and Jon, he was concerned about Jon because if you weren’t back, that meant there was a possibility Jon wasn’t improving. Still, Damian was also worried about you because what if Jon had gotten better and wasn’t letting you leave. Damian had seen how well those supposed soulmate bonds, worked out in the end.

Out of all the scenarios Damian expected to find, one of them hadn’t been you, and Jon snuggled up on the couch watching a movie. Damian had never felt so betrayed, his best friend and his niece together, he wanted to puke.

You smiled as you curled up into Jon’s side; part of you hoped that Clark would never come back because you’d been happier than you had been in years. That is until Damian kicked the door in and charged Jon with a sword and a shard of Kryptonite. Without thinking, you threw yourself in front of Jon, and in turn, Jon threw himself over you, shielding you from shielding him.

Damian found Jon’s willingness to die for you admirable; it still wouldn’t be enough to win him over, no it’d take a lot more than that, but maybe he was worth a chance. Damian put the Kryptonite away into a special lead-lined pouch on his utility belt after he’d done that Jon felt his strength return.

Jon shoved you behind him and glared at Damian. “If you ever hurt her, I can and will end you, do you understand me Kryptonian,” Damian said as he placed the tip of his sword to Jon’s throat.

“Yeah I do, and I would never hurt her, I love her.”

“Your father said the same thing about his wife, and yet he drove her to suicide.” Damian proclaimed venom dripping from his words.

After learning the truth about his mother's death, Jon sent you off with Damian, he called you every day only to ask you to return a week later, as soon as you set foot on the Kent farm Jon dropped down on one knee and proposed. You gladly said yes, and with your parent's permission, got married.

You never questioned why Clark hadn’t returned from space, and it was a good thing you hadn’t because Jon didn’t feel like explaining that his father had returned, but he’d died not long after.

Had Jon killed him? It was possible because, after all, it would have avenged his mother and secured a beautiful, peaceful life for the two of you. All you knew is that after you were married, Jon mostly retired from superheroing. Only going out when absolutely necessary, because he was content to be a farmer for the rest of his life, so long as you were by his side.

A/N I’m not even sure if Jon came off as Yandere in this tbh, Jon in my head is a much softer Yan then the rest, so overall, my usual amount of skin-crawling creep factor isn’t here, but shrug emoji. Also, Yes, Conner was supposed to be next, but that didn’t end up happening.

Tags:

@yanderepeterparker​ @idkmanicantenglish​ @prettyafghan @neon-phosphorecsent​

#Yandere DC #yandere damian wayne #yandere dc comics #Yandere superfam #Yandere jon kent #yandere jon #yandere kent #Yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #Yandere Jon kent x reader #Yandere kent x reader #yandere superboy #dark dc #dark fic #Dark dick grayson #reader isnert #reader is dick graysons daughter #death tw #tw

[takaraphoenix]

Sally Jackson choice safety over stability in terms of how she'd take care of her child. Both her and Percy faced years abuse by the hands of one man. Does this make her a good mother who was in over her head or an unprepared one making an impulsive decision?

You found the one hot take even I haven’t dared say aloud yet, because I think it may just be my most unpopular opinion in this fandom. One thing everyone in this fandom seems to agree on is the “universal truth” that Sally Jackson is the best mother in the history of fictional mothers. So, here’s my hot take:

Sally Jackson is not that perfect mother the fandom pretends she is.

Sally during the series? Presented as a loving and good mother. But to get to that point? Pre-series Sally is not written as a good mom; she’s written as a plot-device with the things the author needs to happen in mind and not the motivation of a good mother who prioritizes her child’s happiness and safety in mind.

And I’ll back that claim up with three ways in which Sally has failed Percy as a mother. Not just once, but repeatedly, for years.

But before we get into that, I’d like to switch what you said first. Sally Jackson chose stability over safety. Sally chose the stability of keeping her child at her side over said child’s safety. She made an inherently selfish decision that was not with her child’s best interest and overall safety in mind.

Now, the first - and most obvious one - is Smelly Gabe.

And before I can elaborate on that, I need to clarify one very important thing here, before anyone goes “don’t blame the victim!” on me: Sally Jackson is not a victim; she’s a fictional character. Fictional characters can be written as victims, but they are not autonomous people who make their own choices; their choices are very deliberately made by their author for them. And I want to look at the choices that went into writing her this way, writing her story this way.

Real abuse victims get stuck in abusive relationships for a variety of reasons and they don’t get out of them for equally various reasons. Most of the time, it’s something like “he was so sweet and kind at first, but by the time he showed his real face, it was too late” (and, as a note to that; Percy describes Gabe as having been nice to them for a total of thirty seconds before showing his real face. Now while that is, of course, and exaggeration, it still goes to say that Gabe was pretty much upfront about what kind of person he was).

I’ve never heard one start with “he was the most disgusting, grossest man I could possibly find”. Sally Jackson chose this man. Not just in the way one picks a partner. She went out there and chose the stinkiest, grossest man.

It was a deliberate choice on Riordan’s part to have Sally choose an abusive relationship over sending her son away for his own safety. And this decision did not keep Percy safe; Percy Jackson was abused in his own home, by a horribly stinking man, for six years of his life. That’s not keeping your child safe.

The choice was not made to keep Percy safe; the choice was made to keep Percy with Sally. It was inherently selfishly motivated; she didn’t want to send him away, she wanted to keep him with her.

Sally loves Percy, she loves him dearly and fiercely, I’m not arguing that. But that love led to her not wanting to let go of him. And sometimes, parenting means making tough choices, sometimes loving someone means you have to make a tough decision.

In this case, the “tough decision” is presented as Sally bravely putting up with six years of abuse at Gabe’s hand. That’s the narrative chosen by the author.

But the actual “tough decision” would have been to send Percy to Camp Half-Blood, where he would have been safe. That’s the tough choice a mother would have had to make to keep her child safe.

That’s the tough choice the parents of most of the year-rounders have made. Mister Beauregard sent his daughter all the way from Paris to New York to give her this safety. The distance alone guaranteeing he wouldn’t see her for years potentially - because flying between New York and Paris is not necessarily easily affordable for everyone. Sally’s option was to send Percy to a camp that’s literally one and a half hours away. She could have still seen him, he could have easily visited her.

But her solution was to mask Percy’s scent by marrying a stinking, gross, abusive man.

Let me just stretch once more: Sally’s choice did not keep Percy safe. Sally’s choice made their home unsafe. It brought the danger and pain into their home. It may have moderately protected Percy from monsters - until The Lightning Thief kicked in - but it did not keep Percy actually safe, because it put him into a different kind of danger and through a different kind of pain.

For six years. And, this is where the “not a real person but a fictional character” thing comes up again, because this isn’t a woman where one choice leads to a date with a man which leads to a relationship which leads to abuse that she doesn’t know how to get out of anymore. She is a fictional character whose journey was set out to end with her being in an abusive relationship.

And we also don’t know why she didn’t get out of it. She’s not a real person, we don’t know if she was so scared of Gabe that she didn’t know how to leave, if her lack of a support system is what led to her not leaving him, or if it was the motivation of not giving up Percy. The real, actual reason is that Riordan wanted to keep her in there and keep Percy out of the loop until he was twelve and The Lightning Thief could happen. Because she was able of getting rid of him as soon as the truth unravelled and Percy met camp.

And I’d like to use the way she did that to drive back home just how bad Gabe was, just how bad the situation Sally and Percy were in for six years, really was.

She murders him. She flat-out murders him. Both, her and Percy, together. This twelve-year old child who we meet and get to know as kind and not... not a murder-child, is ready to kill a man. That’s how badly Gabe abused them; both of these kind people chose murder to get rid of him.

And it’s just something I’ve never gotten over. Riordan really made the decision that his protagonist’s mom would rather get them both into an abusive home than give Percy up to camp. That was his decision; there could have been other ways. One thing that would have made this seem less like a deliberate choice would have, for example, been Sally not knowing about camp.

If she was a desperate mother, who saw no other options? That’d have made the situation different too. But we know Sally knew about camp. She knew there was a place she could send her son where he would be safe from the monsters, but she decided against that, she decided that she wanted to keep him close, at any costs - and the cost was six years of abuse.

I do not think that this decision should be framed as a heroic sacrifice, because the fact that she knew of an actually safe solution and decided against it was inherently selfish. She did not put up with six years of abuse for selfless reasons because there was “no other way”; there was, she knew that, but the author didn’t want her to take that.

Sometimes, the sacrifice is letting go of your child. And, as mentioned before, she wouldn’t have let go of him for good - camp is in the same bloody city as she is living. Literally one and a half hours away from her.

Now on to the other two ways in which I think Sally Jackson failed Percy.

For one, the lies about his father. Now, real people who are left by their partner with a baby, they can pick whatever to tell their kids whenever. But, again, this is a fictional character and the author makes the decision for her. And this, again, was a decision made solely based on the end result; Riordan needed Percy to not be in the know by the time The Lightning Thief came around, even though from a character-perspective, telling Percy the truth earlier would have been the logical and right decision.

If your kid is a demigod who is attracting real actual monsters with his scent alone? Percy started really attracting monsters when he was six years old and for the next six years, Sally didn’t disclose the truth to him; not about monsters, not about his father, not about the fact that Percy may have powers.

Percy attracted so many monsters that it led to Sally getting married to Gabe. That’s how badly he attracted monsters. Which also implies that Percy must have seen monsters. We get to see in The Lightning Thief just how much Percy thinks he’s going crazy with the things he sees. And that’s  been going on for six years too - six years and in those, his scent only got stronger.

This, again, isn’t just one decision she made. This is a decision she made every single day over and over again. The decision not to tell Percy about his father, the powers, the simple reassurance that he’s not going insane, that monsters are real. This was Percy’s reality and it would obviously only become more and more of an issue the older Percy got, but every single day, she chose not to tell him, to let him believe not just a lie but also steadily that he was going crazy.

And it’d have gone a long way if he had just known. Even with Gabe in their life, even if she hadn’t made the choice to send him to camp at age six, it’d have helped him so much to know the truth and be prepared for this life.

Because this wasn’t just an issue of “the guy left me, I don’t want to talk about it with my kid”, this was inherently about, once more, Percy’s safety. Knowing what to watch out for, knowing the thing you should watch out for is actually real, are huge factors in Percy’s safety. Having him as well-prepared as possible.

She knew his father was Poseidon. It’s not even that she had sex with some dude, not knowing who he was. She knew he was Poseidon. She knew what Percy’s parentage was, she must have observed the slow development of Percy’s powers over the years.

But again, she chose to leave him in the dark about it. He could have been well-prepared by age twelve. Read up everything on Poseidon, experimented with potential powers he may have, understanding why the fishes in the aquarium are talking to him and that he is not actually hearing voices, learning.

But that’s not useful for the author; Riordan wants an unprepared Percy who can be used to introduce this world to the reader.

The choice to not tell Percy the truth about his father and about being a demigod was made deliberately and, again, not in Percy’s best interest. And in this case, there really is no other interpretation left aside from “the author needs it to happen this way” - with Gabe, there is the legitimate argument that she may have been at one point just an abused woman stuck in a relationship with no out because we don’t know enough to know what her motivation and situation were exactly - but there is... no benefit at all in lying to Percy about this, no reason for it.

The moment he first started being in actual life-threatening danger because monsters came after him, it became a pressing matter to tell him what monsters are, that they are real and why they are after him and to prepare him for it.

Which brings me to the third instance.

She never prepared him - even just in a mortal manner. Even if we let the first two - the marriage to Gabe and the lies about his father - stand as they are, Sally could have done something very simple to prepare Percy for his life and to help keeping him safe.

Self-defense classes. Judo. Martial arts. Sword-fighting classes. Whatever.

Many parents teach their kids these kind of things from a young age. Parents whose kids aren’t in constant danger of being attacked by monsters. One of your first parental instincts should be to teach your kid to be safe; to protect themselves. Give him the means to fight back.

So, that’s it. That’s the three very vital and important instances in which I think Sally failed Percy as a mother; not just once, but repeatedly, for years.

Instead of sending him to a safe place where he could learn about his heritage and learn control of his powers as well as learning how to fight the monsters after his life, she chose to marry an abusive, smelly man whose scent would mask Percy’s. Probably. Hopefully. But it didn’t really, not all the time. As shown by The Lightning Thief and monsters coming after Percy. And Percy starts to think he’s crazy, because at no point did she tell him about the monsters, and at no point does he really know how to fight for his life, because at no point did she put the means to defend himself into his hands.

No. No, I do not think that those are the decisions a good mother would make. Those are decisions the author made because he knew the starting point of his story and he knew where Percy’s character needed to be for that.

The thing that’s glossed over are the choices Riordan implicitly made Sally make. To get to this point for Percy, at age 12, he had to make Sally repeatedly act against Percy’s best interests and deliberately not tell Percy the truth or teach him way to stay safe. So he masks those choices by putting on a framework that’s meant to make you only look at her suffering and the outcome, not the choices that led to it. That was Riordan’s choice and he framed it in a way that the fandom ate up and celebrates, when... neither Sally, nor Riordan, had do to that. There was another option on the table and, if Riordan had sat down and thought hard, I’m pretty sure there would have been more options.

The bottom line, what Sally’s parenting comes down to in the end, is that she and Percy got stuck with an abusive man for six years, because she didn’t want to send him to an actual safe place, she spent six years essentially gaslighting Percy about the things he hears/sees by not telling him the monsters are actually real and she repeatedly left him in unnecessary danger by not giving him the means to defend himself in any way whatsoever. And those are not signs of good parenting, not in my book.

But it’s just so much easier to ignore all of that and pretend that blue candy and trips to Montauk are the end all be all and that Sally’s fierce love for her son is the most defining trait of parenting. I know that. Most of the time, I’m right there with you - I love fanon!Sally, I love to pretend she’s the best mom ever and never did anything wrong, because I know the decisions are inherently made by Riordan and are a by-product; I know he wants her to be a good mother, I know throughout the series, he writes her as a good and loving mother.

But if I have to be honest and if I look at the whole text, including the implications of their past, canon!Sally isn’t that good of a mother.

#PJOverse #Riordan Critical #this is the one hot take #I always dreaded to make #because I just #that's the one character #I've never seen shit talked about #oh well #let's see what the outcome of this is #Anonymous

[annawoodhull]

Heart in Hand (A Jonsa Family Drabble)

Jon could never forget the words Benjen Stark had spoken to him, when he had first expressed his desire to take the black. 

“Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up.” His younger self insisted he didn’t care about that, but his uncle knew better. “You might, if you knew what it meant. If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son.”

It wasn’t until Jon married Sansa did he begin to learn. It wasn’t until his eyes first landed on their newborn daughter did he know.

(Gif not mine!)

Word count: 1338

Dedicated to @maddiethefashionista​ for all of the brainstorming ideas and for the name Calla Lily. I love it and you!

Fighting. That’s what his life had always been. Fighting and surviving. He hadn’t lied to Sansa when he’d told her he was sick of fighting. He’d been tired than, weary to the bone. He had just come back from the dead, after dying for a cause he’d sworn an oath to serve his brothers. In his mind, he had carried out his term, had served his duty, and had felt no guilt when passing on the cloak to Eddison. His watch had ended.

Jon could never quite forget the words Benjen Stark had said to him, when he had first expressed his desire to take the black. “Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up.” His younger self insisted he didn’t care about that, but his uncle knew better. “You might, if you knew what it meant. If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son.”

It wasn’t until Jon married Sansa did he begin to learn. It wasn’t until his eyes first landed on their newborn daughter did he know.

“She has your hair,” Sansa murmured, unable to look away from their young daughter, much like himself. Those dark wisps of chocolate grew darker by the hour, contrasting starkly against her porcelain skin. He yearned to reach out and touch her but did not want to disturb her as their daughter was curled up comfortably in her mother’s arms.

Her name was Calla Lily Stark, a child of the spring, though the North deeply ran through her veins. She was so incredibly tiny, a tiny bundle of pink perfection. He hardly knew what to do with himself, so overcome with emotion the moment he saw her. He felt Sansa’s warm, happy gaze on him, and her returned it before his gaze was drawn back to the little human in her arms, his expression wondrous.

Suddenly, Lily wrinkled her nose in her sleep and stirred. The new parents held their breath, waiting until the movement subsided. She turned her face against Sansa’s breast and released a small huffing exhale that filled Jon with overwhelming affectionate.

“She’s perfect,” he murmured hoarsely. “And she’s all ours.”

“I loved her before I even knew her,” Sansa admitted, gently stroking her hair. “Does that make any sense? How is that possible?”

“It does,” he said. Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself into the bed beside her. His arm wrapped around her shoulders gently. “Are you well?”

She nodded and gave him a tired smile. “Tired, and more than a bit sore, but I’ll be fine.” She turned her attention back to Lily as she continued to stroke her cheek. “She was worth it all.”

Sansa had given him quite a scare when she had first gone into labor. He hadn’t been with her when it happened, which still upset him several hours later. He had been overseeing the progress of the new schools being established in Winterfell when a young maiden, pale faced and breathless, had run to him to tell him the news. After everything he had faced in his life, including going up against the Night King, he couldn’t think of anything that came close to the fear he had felt, fear for his wife’s safety, for welfare of their child.

In the end, the midwife had taken care of both mother and child safely. He hadn’t left since.

“Do you want to hold her?” she asked him, knowing him all too well.

Jon hesitated. “I don’t want to wake her.” Then he smiled at the obvious reluctance on his wife’s face. “And it’s apparent you don’t want to give her up.”

Sansa smiled sheepishly. “You’re right. But she is your daughter, too. You should hold her, when she wakes.”

Lily’s little fists were curled against her lap, twitching ever so lightly. Jon wondered what she was dreaming of, what she was thinking of. Unable to help himself, he reached down and gently touched her hand with a finger, marveling at the contrast in size. The twitching stopped immediately, and briefly, Jon panicked, his gaze locking onto her face.

Lily’s eyelids fluttered open after a few slow, sleepy blinks. She looked at her mother then slowly towards him. Their gazes held. Suddenly her tiny fist opened and his finger was enveloping in her tiny hand. His heart squeezed the moment her fist squeezed his finger. And just like that she had him, right where she wanted him. She had his heart in her hand. There was no fighting it, a fight he had no intention of engaging.

Jon inhaled sharply, his throat tightening with emotion. Sansa pressed a hand to his cheek, her thumb caressing his face. It wasn’t until she touched him did he realize he’d begun to cry.

There was nothing in this world that could make Jon walk away from this, nothing short of the gods’ intervention themselves. He would die a thousand deaths to protect the woman that he loved and their daughter. As much as he loved Ned Stark as a father, he remembered all too distinctly what it was like to grow up on the outside and never quite fitting in. He’d felt the shame of being a bastard, remembered Catelyn’s scorn, the treatment he’d received, yet he still knew he’d had it better than most. Still, the hurt and pain that came from the label bastard still haunted him, even though he had never truly been one.

“You are our heart, littlest wolf,” he murmured, watching as Lily tugged his finger closer to her chest. “You are here, and you are loved. You’ll want for nothing. No harm will ever come to you. You have my word, as your father.”

And then Lily smiled, her expressive eyes crinkling in the corners. Gods, she was already a heart breaker and only hours old yet.

Sansa kissed his cheek, and when she withdrew, he saw she was crying as well, tears of joy and love. “You’ll be a wonderful father,” she assured him. “As you are already a wonderful husband. I couldn’t ask for a better life.”

Jon closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer to the gods. He hoped he would be. And with Sansa at his side, he hoped they would raise a large family together.

Turning to Sansa, he murmured reverently, “You are a blessing, Sansa, and you have given me the most wonderful…” Swallowing, he pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

Tilting her face, Sansa pressed her mouth to his, her lips softly gliding over his. It didn’t last long as a soft mewl from the bundle in her arms drew their attention.

Lily squeezed his finger again, looking up at him almost expectantly. Sansa laughed quietly, understanding her daughter’s intention. “All right, little one. You want to meet your father.” Shifting Lily’s weight carefully, she waited until Jon was ready and slowly passed her to him.

Jon’s arms were filled with a small weight of warmth. Lily refused to relinquish his finger and continued to reassert her claim to it, squeezing and releasing at random.

He lowered his face towards her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, holding her close. After a few moments of uninhibited wonder, he looked at Sansa. “You should get some rest. I’ve got her.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, even as she yawned. She was resting her head against Jon’s shoulder, watching him watch their daughter and back again.

“I’m sure,” he said and smiled. “I’ll take the first watch.”

Sansa kissed his shoulder and shifted on the bed, wincing a little at the moving of sore muscles. Sleep didn’t take long to claim her. With his wife sleeping soundly beside him, Jon held their baby girl in his arms. “I trust you’ll return my finger at some point,” he asked amusedly.

Lily gave no indication of a response, apart from giving his finger another squeeze.

#jonsa #jonsa drabble #jonsa fluff #jonsa domestic fluff #oc: calla lily stark #jonsa oneshot #got #got fic #got drabble #allie writes things #jon snow #kit harington #sansa stark #sophie turner #jon x sansa #sansa x jon

[yanderecandystore]

can I req yandere headcanon teacher with a female student who is deaf but are not completely deaf she can use hearing aids though she cannot clearly understand individual words, but she can hear various pitches of tones in the voices of other people but one day bullies going too far by pulling out the reader's hearing aids, and permanently damaging reader ear. (is it okay say I teacher see them as son or daughter then lover?) I apologise for long req and any error. I love your writing

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Hi! Sorry for making you wait, I was having a hard time trying write something interesting. But since it's Mother's day, why not now?

 I know this sounds really convenient and kinda "Deus Ex Machina", but I been wanting to redo my characters for a long time, specially the teachers. Something I would like to mention about this redo, is that I'm planning on making both of them understand sign language. Matthew has a really old mother that is a mute, and Madeline not only wanted to be a teacher growing up, but also a pediatric nurse, that wanted to tell stories to deaf children using sign language.

 I'm sorry if it's too far fetch, I just felt it would be interesting idea to ad to them. Also, this headcanons doesn't really look like a headcanon... I feel like it's a small fanfiction?

" I see beauty in everything, don't you?" [Yandere Teacher x Deaf!Female!Reader - Small fanfic]:

Since you were a child, you haven't able to properly hear most sounds. The only thing that helped you be able to listen better, was the hearing aids that were really expensive.

You still can't properly understand some words that come out of people's mouth, but you learned to read their mouth movements and overall tone in their voices.

When you were introduced to the school faculty, your parents warned them of your condition, and it was easy to see that although being a really kind girl, they would have to be really patient with you.

Which, the academy isn't really well-known for. But there was still hope for you, maybe if they pair you up with the right teacher and class, you would be in good hands.

And they were right, at the beginning.

You were introduced to your homeroom teacher, and they were stunned by how kind you were, and how excited you looked to be in the academy.

You couldn't pick up on most of their words, and that's when you told them that you didn't listen fully well, even with the hearing aids.

They were surprised, but their face showed you a gentle, welcoming smile.

"- Maybe we can try, this…" They started making signs with their hands, and although you recognized it as sign language, you didn't really understand what the signs meant.

"- Oh, well, it's fine. Maybe I can teach you later."

Their voice is so full of joy to have a new student in their classroom, and they introduce you to the rest of the class with such genuine happiness.

And some people seemed understanding of your situation, but…

"- …. Freak."

But most of them, weren't so kind towards you. A couple of students would completely dismiss you, or even straight up avoid you.

But some of them liked to get really personal with you. You would be pushed around constantly, and although you couldn't hear them, their dirty looks were enough for you too feel terrible.

But their favorite game was to roughly pull your hearing aids. It would scare you everytime, and it would hurt the more they do.

One of them tried to do this on your homeroom teacher class, but-

"- Don't." Your teacher is looking eyes with the student behind you. You were too distracted to even notice their presence behind you.

"- What-" They try asking before being cut off.

"- Don't even think about doing that. If I see, or hear anything about you doing that again, we'll have a little talk. Move to the next sit." You were a little confused, but it didn't take long for you to connect the dots.

Your teacher asked you to meet them in their class after school. You couldn't deny that you felt a little scared, you have never seen them get so angry like that.

"- Sigh. Please, take a sit." Their whole demeanor tell you that, they're not exactly angry, at least not with you.

They feel awful, after that little incident, they started to think that what happened wasn't the first time. They can't keep let anyone do this to you but they also can't always be there to protect you.

They tried talking with you, and although they're really gentle and patient with you, there was a little bit of desperation in their voices, to know what is going on while you're not in their class.

You try telling them everything in the best way you can, feeling a lot more like you're being interrogated then being asked simple questions about your well-being. They easily notice how discomfortable you are, and you look like you're about to cry.

Telling them all the things that happen started to really mess with you. After they feel like they heard enough, they try to make you feel better.

"- Hey, how about this-" They want you to always come find them after school and tell them if anything is wrong. They want you to trust them, and let them protect you.

They want to see if they can make anything against your bullying. But they couldn't really do anything without proof.

And like a miracle from the heavens, they got their proof. But it cost so much for you. In the next day, while on a lunch time, a student thought it would be funny to make a little prank on last time.

You were distracted eating alone, as you didn't really mind being all by yourself, and many students didn't really want to talk with you. Your teacher was finishing picking their food and already planning to sit next to you, when a scream was heard.

The student came behind you and snatched the hearing aids so roughly that it gave you a headache and your ears started to bleeding, you were trying to cover your ears because of the pain that you didn't realize that you couldn't hear anything.

Your teacher came to make sure if you were okay, but you didn't seem to understand what they were saying. They noticed the bleeding and started to yell at the student, thankfully, you couldn't hear it.

All students and teachers in the cafeteria were a little shocked about what just happened, but soon enough they called an ambulance in a panic.

You been hospitalized for three days, and your parents were told that you wouldn't be able to hear anymore. Whatever hope there was for your hearing to get better with time and treatment was gone now.

You felt terribly sad because of you lost your hearing completely, but felt so angry, you just wanted to punch that kid so hard!

You been angry, sad, confused, and really afraid throughout the three days, but thankfully, your teacher came to the hospital to see how you were doing. They looked so sad. So guilty.

They told you to trust them that they would protect you, but they didn't. They hated seeing you so depressed. But they could still help you right?

They asked your parents if it was okay if they can personally taught you sign language. Since they already have enough experience with this, and your parents don't seem to be on a easy position to pay for a personal teacher or any guide to help you, they accept it.

Your next days at school were, odd, to say the least. You were being taught by your teacher how to communicate in sign language, and it has helped you feel a little better. Their company is really comforting, so you don't really mind spending time with them.

But, what you really think is weird is that your teacher insist on taking you to school and taking you back home. Maybe is because you have never experienced this? Maybe you were just not accustomed to this new routine yet.

You found it really weird that other students would be so caring towards you after the incident, asking how you were after the incident and all, while asking the teacher if they could translate to you what they were saying. Some seemed fake, some seemed genuine. Another thing you found weird, was that your classmates seemed scared to talk with you while the teacher was near.

Yet, nobody was being mean to you, and some even wanted to learn how they could communicate with you better. With your teacher's help, and your classmates kindness, you felt eager to start socializing with everyone around you.

You haven't seen any of the students that used to torment you though. Maybe they just were expelled, but something didn't seemed right to you.

Whenever you ask your teacher about it, they would either ignore the question or tell you to not worry yourself, and hug you with all their strength until you giggled.

Your teacher started to be much more present in your life and being so kind and generous towards you, that you honestly don't mind it anymore! Sometimes they ask you to come to their home so you can have study sessions in there, and your parents don't see anything wrong as long as you return in the right time.

Your parents are so kind, but also so naive and distant at times, it seems like they don't even care about your safety. Maybe you would be better off if you have someone else taking care of you.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Also, thank you for liking my writing :3

#yandere oc #special delivery headcanons #yandere teacher #yandere teacher x reader #deaf!reader #yandere teacher x deaf!reader #special delivery small fanfic #yandere #yandere x reader #parent love!yandere #?? #idk how to tag this #a sweetheart asked:

[party-of-rpg-muses]

A Dichotomy Between Yuna and Seymour

I’ve been wanting to go over this for a good while. Honestly, the idea came to me while replaying FFX and I noticed that Seymour and Yuna have so much in common, and so much different. So I’d like to go over that.

First, let’s start off with Yuna. Born to a human father and Al Bhed mother. Her parents believed that their union would bring the two races together in harmony. However, this caused both sides to despise the two for their marriage and disregard the child as well. Yuna’s mother was disowned by her family while her father, Braska, was cast out of the clergy. When she was 4, her mother was killed by a Sin attack, causing Braska to go on a pilgrimage to slay Sin, during when she stayed in Bevelle, the Yevonites looking down on both of them. Her father for marrying an Al Bhed and Yuna herself for being the daughter of an Al Bhed. Eventually, he succeeded, but at the cost of his own life and as a result, Yuna lost both of her parents.

With the coming of the Calm, Yuna was taken to Besaid Island, where she was raised by the villagers as one of their one, especially forming a bond with Lulu, Wakka, and Chappu. As time passes, Sin returns and Yuna decides to become a Summoner like her father.

And now for Seymour. He was born to a Guado father and human mother. Their marriage was meant to foster more positive relations between the Guado and humans, but instead, it caused both races to hate the child and view the young Seymour as an abomination. In hopes of calming the masses, Seymour’s father, Jyscal, had his wife and son flee to Baaj for safety. However, she knew she was going to die soon and rather than leave her son alone, she decided to become his Final Aeon in hopes of him gaining the trust of humans and Guado.

The two journeyed to Zanarkand before meeting with Lady Yunalesca. Thus, she became Anima. But so upset by losing his mom, Seymour abandoned his pilgrimage. Once Sin was defeated by Braska, Seymour was able to return home, where he was welcomed with open arms.

As for their personalities, Yuna is a very kind, caring, polite young woman who will do anything to help others, even at the detriment of herself or her journey. And yet, she’s incredibly soft-spoken and struggles to raise her voice in any regard or let people know what she thinks, especially if it’s a disagreement. No matter who she meets, she does what she can to see the best in people while remaining hopeful that, despite Sin being eternal, people can find some level of peace, even if its temporary. She’s even perfectly willing to end her own life, especially if it means bringing people hope.

Seymour appears as a friendly individual who’s just as willing to help people, even breaking Yevon’s teachings if it means fighting a common foe or bringing people together. But in truth, Seymour is completely nihilistic and sees death as the only absolute, as well as freedom from Spira’s eternal suffering. At the same time, he sees himself as a martyr, someone willing to make a great sacrifice for the sake of others.

Both Yuna and Seymour suffered greatly during their early years; being half-human and their births (while still being born out of love) hoped to bring peace between the races; Yuna’s uniting humans and Al Bhed and Seymour’s uniting humans and Guado. But they only wound up being rejected by both sides and treated with disdain from all but their parents. Even Yuna’s uncle wanted nothing to do with his sister’s family. Not to mention, both lost a parent, which greatly affected them. Yuna lost her father and while we never see any interactions between them, it can be assumed that Yuna was very close to her father. And Seymour lost his mom, his only companion when they were effectively exiled.

But where they differ is in their upbringings and how their respective parent’s death affected them. When Braska died, it was to save Spira, protecting Yuna by extension. Not to mention Yuna spent much of her life in Besaid Island, where she was treated with love and respect from everyone on the island, even having somewhat of an extended family in the form of Lulu, Wakka, Chappu, and Kimahri, none of them treating her poorly because she’s half-Al Bhed (or at the very least, Wakka didn’t know). And her father’s sacrifice brought him adoration and respect from all.

With Seymour’s mom, she allowed herself to become her son’s Final Aeon, costing her her life in the process. This was in hopes that by defeating Sin, Seymour would finally be accepted and loved by the rest of the world, but taking away her son’s only companion and leaving him alone with a creature that only does his bidding that is in perpetual pain. It wasn’t until Braska’s Calm that he was finally allowed back home, but by then, he already dealt with a lot of pain and suffering, the death of his mother being a big one for him.

If you think about it, the two are more alike than they seem, being half-human and half-non human with their birth being reviled by both sides and growing up surrounded by Yevon. But where Yuna differs is that her upbringing had more positive influences. Though she still had to deal with death (particularly the death of her father and Chappu), she always had people around who cared for her and supported her when she was down.

With Seymour, even his own father seemingly rejected him and his mother, and his mother become a fayth in an attempt to give him happiness, only to have the opposite effect, turning him nihilistic and convinced that death is deliverance from suffering and the only path of hope for Spira.

It’s also worth noting that Seymour doesn’t treat Anima as if it was his mother, but more like a familiar to follow his commands. Yuna, however, treats her Aeons with compassion, such as petting Valefor or catching Shiva’s cloak. And when summoning Anima against Seymour Omnis, Seymour reacts with disappointment (”You would oppose me as well? So be it.”) rather than confusion; again, seeing as this is his mother as an Aeon.

Yuna and Seymour are opposite sides of the same coin. Overall, if things were just a little different, Yuna may have turned out a bit more like Seymour and Seymour would have turned out a bit more like Yuna.

#Final Fantasy X #Seymour Guado #Yuna #FFX Yuna #Final Fantasy X spoilers

[five-miles-over]

‘Aftermath’ Part 7: Wait for It

Summary: Disdain of the emperor is now rising again in the streets of Rome. Meanwhile, Commodus’s first day of the games brings back triggering memories and dark thoughts.

Warning: Violence, angst

Word Count: 2,631

Read Part 1: The Impossible Dream here

Read Part 2: Proud of Your Boy here

Read Part 3: Point of No Return here

Read Part 4: Look Down here

Read Part 5: Beneath a Moonless Sky here

Read Part 6: These Palace Walls here

“That’s the problem with young men like you. No restraint upon your tongues…or on your swords for that matter.”

Senator Julius smirked at his colleague Senator Gaius’s remark. Gaius had never been one to appreciate a jest with a vulgar double-meaning, but still did it to seem like a man in public.

General Petronius shook his head. “He’s going to do it - he’s made plans to announce it at the games and no one seems to be doing anything about it.”

“The Senate has done much to gain the support of the people. Especially after the death of Senator and late Consul Gracchus, may he rest in peace.” Gaius lectured, “We hammered the letter addressed to the Caesar in the public square. With our collective pleas, we begged him to show us mercy and bestow kindness upon the Senate of Rome.”

“Keep making your jests, Senators,” Petronius answered, disgusted with the two elder men. “The people do not understand the value of elocution as well as we do. All they know is…fear and wonder. Wasn’t it your friend Gracchus who said that the heart of Rome lies not in the marble of the Senate, but in the heart of the Colosseum? That is what his Highness takes advantage of. It is how he whisks the common man from under our noses.”

“And the army, too,” Julius chuckled. “What have you to complain about, General? Does Caesar not pay you handsomely enough?” The general was beyond offended by this.

“He pays me well, but in not the way I would desire” He spat, not caring in that moment about the repercussions of his tone. “I am complaining because I do not wish to tarnish the legacy that the great Caesar Marcus Aurelius has brought to Rome.”

“And the General who became a slave…who rose from his ashes into a gladiator who could defy an emperor, Maximus Decimus Meridus,” Petronius added with a theatric flair. “The two of them gave their lives for Rome, and now that very Rome is to pay for the life of this man sitting on the throne now!”

“And I suppose you wish to follow in his footsteps,” Gaius sneered. “Or do you wish to survive? Last I recall, you have an unwed sister and two small children at home. I shudder to think what may happen if their breadwinner goes gallivanting behind a metaphysical quest for a Republic.”

Petronius continued to assert himself. “If not us, who will? Our venerated Lady Lucilla was once there to stop him from carrying out such a dastardly action. And now…the duties fall upon us to bring back the Rome that once was.”

Senator Gaius clicked his tongue. “With your way of words, you could have been extremely political. What a pity you had to follow in your father’s footsteps.”

“I prefer to fight my battles in a straightforward manner. A general talks with his weapons more than with his tongue, Senators.”

“Yes, but anyone can be killed with weapons,” Julius retorted. “Only a fool can be killed by his own tongue.”

“I should say so, coming from a man who may soon find himself out of a livelihood very soon and is still making jokes like a street jester.”

Just as the angry young general was about to leave, Gaius grabbed Petronius’s arm. “It does not bode well for a man like you to behave like this in public,” he whispered hotly. “For our own safety, we must remain quiet until we have the power to act. You must trust Fate for the time being, General”

The young man hissed, “I have no faith in the same fate that brought such an emperor back to life from the realm of Tartarus.”

“Meet us tonight in the Forum, and I will guide you to my house. There, we shall set our next move.”

—————————————————————————————————————

The golden sun gleamed upon the city of Rome. In the early hours of morning, it was truly a heavenly sight to behold - it was as if the entire city was bathed in an ethereal light, with the warm glow emanating from every marble structure.

A divine Father…that is what the sun truly is, Emperor Commodus mused to himself, standing from his balcony. For the first day of the reinstated games, he wore a brand new set of dark grey and black armor coupled with golden ornamentation.

It shows light equally upon the buildings as well as upon the grass and the flowers. Regardless of the obstacles it faces, the Sun continues to illuminate the world and shower light, just like a father showering unconditional love upon his children.

And so I shall be like the Sun - brilliant, courageous, and devoted to his children. I shall rise every morning and shower love upon all of my people as the Sun bestows light.

“Uncle?” Lucius called meekly. “Yes, Lucius?”

“Is all of this violence necessary in the name of entertainment?” Commodus was taken aback by the boy’s query. “Lucius, it does not serve you well to question such a tradition. Ever since the reign of Emperor Augustus, gladiatorial games have been held to entertain the masses. They will make you courageous in the face of battle.”

Lowering his tone to a whisper, the emperor knelt down to the boy’s level. “Many Caesars, including those from our ancestor Emperor Claudius have used the games as a way of keeping the people of Rome happy. And these games…these games are being held to honor the legacy of your grandfather. He was a great emperor whom I swore to honor when he named me his successor.”

“I see, Uncle.” Lucius replied, not wishing to ask more about the late Caesar. His mother had told him many things before she was sent away from Rome, including the conspiracy that his uncle, of all people, killed his grandfather through suffocation. Lucius was intelligent enough not to directly ask the emperor about this, but it lingered in the back of his mind. His uncle could kill for the throne, granted his last battle nearly cost the emperor his life, but it would be logical to suspect the emperor was capable of committing another such heinous act.

“Now, finish your breakfast,” Commodus instructed, smoothing the boy’s dusky, golden hair. “Our chariot will take us to the Colosseum at noon, and I expect that you will be prompt.”

Lucius nodded, and Commodus watched as his nephew ran off. He loved the boy dearly, but there was something…strange about the dear prince. Whenever Commodus wanted to approach him, he always flinched like a sparrow being approached by a hawk. In the place of love, there was fear in Lucius’s eyes. It reminded Commodus too much of his own sister. The more he ruminated about it, he could even see Lucilla’s face in Lucius.

He loved the boy dearly, but…the betrayal by his own sister was unforgettable, to say the least. It stung him more than the most sharpest of daggers. Even before his duel with Maximus, he’d already felt as if he’d lost his greatest weapon. In a blind fit of rage, he threatened the life of the very boy whom he hoped to shower with paternal affection. Commodus never failed to regret bringing his nephew into the stakes of politics. Though it was Lucilla who’d committed the mistake of revealing confidential information to Lucius, Commodus took it upon himself to blame for putting Lucius’s life in danger. From the moment he first stood up from his bed, barely recovered from his injuries, Commodus swore to protect his dear nephew - even at the cost of his own life.

And, the emperor promised himself that he would do the same, should the gods bless him with sons and daughters of his own.

———————————————————————————————————-

“Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!”

With the majestic stride of a lion, Emperor Commodus felt as powerful as the feline king of the jungle when he entered the Colosseum and waved to the citizens. His triumph over Maximus had appeared to have reaped its fruit. The crowd loved him, and even embraced him. He watched as his servants threw loaves of bread into the crowd. Perhaps it was not him who was fighting in the arena this time, but Commodus felt the victory he never had a chance to feel on that fateful day.  

The announcer, wearing a blonde wig, ascended the steps to the podium. He declared, “On the first day of the reinstated games, his Highness is pleased to present yet another piece of history. Honoring the great triumphs of the Commander Publius Cornelius Dolabella during the Roman-Gallic wars, the Battle of Lake Vadimo will be re-enacted before you today. But before the emperor can let the battle commence, there is a special announcement he would be delighted to deliver.”

“Thank you, Cassius,” Commodus politely acknowledged the announcer. “People of Rome, it brings me immense pleasure to be in the presence of you all. As your emperor, I consider it my foremost duty above all else to make sure that my citizens are satisfied with my reign.

In the name of satisfying my subjects, it is my executive decision to formally announce the dissolution of the Roman Senate. From tomorrow, the citizens will be encouraged to take their grievances to my palace directly. My doors shall remain open for each and every citizen, and I shall give each and every concern of theirs due attention.

’Tis time for Rome to enter a New Age. One in which power is out of the hands of dry, old men who inadequately represent the people whom they are supposed to give a voice to, and an age in which an empire is ruled by an emperor. I thank you all for your love and support, and it is my ardent wish that you enjoy the games today.”

For a moment, it was as if the gods made time stop for Commodus’s words to echo through the Colosseum. Silence prevailed through the arena before scattered applause morphed into furious claps, mainly from the commoners. Despite the acclamation from the plebeians, it was the artificial smiles of the Senators that instantly attracted the attention of Emperor Commodus. It baffled him how not a single one of them protested their dissolution. And then it came to him - they were already plotting against him. He had been too transparent with his disdain for them, and now they were already planning to take revenge.

This was not his first time fighting this particular battle. When Commodus told the Senate he was using the grain reserves to pay for those very games, they reacted with silence. They reacted with deadly, lethal silence that only paved the way for a grand scheme to depose him. Granted it failed ultimately, but it still cost him everything he knew and cherished.

Not wishing to repeat his mistake, the emperor forced himself to maintain his jovial manner and suppress his resurfacing paranoia. Casting an affectionate glance towards Lucius and the empty throne that used to seat Lucilla, Commodus gestured for the games to begin.

The bloodshed, as always, managed to take Commodus’s mind off of the political trauma he’d endured for too long. Bloodied chariots, fallen hounds, and even spears to the chest elicited laughter and childlike glee from the emperor. Many of the intellectuals would scorn an emperor who took so much pleasure in the games, citing his father’s stoic ideals, but in Commodus’s mind it was his way of honoring the traditions of Rome. Moreover, it was a rare feeling of multifaceted control that Commodus never seemed to feel often. Seated above all in the Imperial Box with the ability to grant life or death with the mere movement of his thumb, it was a powerful sensation indeed.

And to add to his good mood, there were no rude surprises today. Just as history had written, the Romans won the Battle of Lake Vadimo, while the Gallics were brutally defeated.

——————————————————————————————————————-

The moment the large doors closed behind the emperor, the laurel crown announced its place on the floor with a loud clang.  

“Wine,” the emperor ordered, immediately being delivered an urn of dark scarlet liquid and a goblet. Commodus poured himself a drink and gulped it down. Closing his eyes, he let out a painful sigh from both the gravity of the day’s events and the alcohol taking its toll. It was for Rome, he told himself. I needed to save Rome from the politicians.

“Commodus, the Senate has its uses.”

Could he be hallucinating again? “L-Lucilla?” He stammered, looking up to her with wide, naive eyes.

“Brother,” Lucilla narrowed her eyes. “We both know father would not have wanted this for Rome.”

“Father is dead, Lucilla,” Commodus dismissed, pouring another serving of wine.

“Come now, Commodus. We both know you feel otherwise.”

“Why should it bother you what I feel? You and Father were the experts at putting up facades, pretending to care for me. I was the one so foolish as to believe your love for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Commodus. There’s always been a Senate.”

“Rome has changed since the days of the Republic, dear sister. An empire needs an emperor, nothing less.”

Lucilla’s nostrils flared at his impudence. “Even Death has been unable to teach you a lesson. All your life, you’ve been stubborn, clinging to those dreams you fabricated as a boy. You turned every one of your friends and allies against you because you refused to accept things.”

Enraged with her, he threw his goblet onto the floor, staining the marble with red droplets. His upper lip quivered while his eyelids struggled to hold back hot tears. “YOU LEFT ME! You left me when I needed you the most and I paid for it with my life!”

“No one left you, Commodus,” she harshly reprimanded him. You sent them away to satisfy your insatiable ego. Soon you’ll be left with no one but your own mind for company. It will do you good to remember me then.”

Growling like a wounded animal, he furiously lunged towards her only to fall from his chair. When his eyes rose from the floor, she disappeared. It was only his mind playing tricks; Lucilla was truly gone.

A young, startled slave rushed in, holding a tray of food. “Sire, is there something you need?”

“No, go away,” the emperor dismissed him, trying to stand up. He had given in to a hallucination, and now he was caught in a rather compromising position by a servant.

“Are you sure, Highness? I heard- “ the servant rambled, only to be cut off suddenly.

“Actually…I’d like you to fight me.” Commodus demanded the slave.

“I-I-I don’t have a weapon, Your Highness.”

“There’s a knife on your platter, near the cheese. Use it.”

“Sire, it is no-”

“That was not a request, slave. Pick up your knife and fight me.”

Obedient to his master, the slave put down his platter and grasped the kitchen knife tightly. Commodus held a naked sword and led the slave into the hall, launching the first attack. For a servant, he was surprisingly good at stalling the emperor, blocking and dodging many of Commodus’s blows. Alas, it was only a matter of fatigue and timing before the servant was unable to maintain his momentum. The emperor backed the servant into a wall, swiftly letting his blade enter the servant’s stomach again…and again…and again.

Tiny droplets of blood from the crumpled corpse blemishing his face, Commodus looked around slowly as he sheathed his dirtied sword. The halls were empty, except for a pair of emotionless blue eyes that had seen too much.

#gladiator 2000 #commodus #commodus fic #emperor commodus #gladiator au #gladiator fic

[fortitudinem]

THE CREATION OF THE UNITED KINGDOMS OF AURADON

When the small Kingdom of Auradon re-emerges after a decade of being missing and yet, unmissed, there is a lot of confusion all around. The ruler of the Kingdom, Prince Adam, now King Adam, reveals himself to the world once more, exclaiming that he was cursed by an enchantress for ten years to take on the form of a hideous beast, but that the curse has been broken with the power of true love and he can now resume ruling his kingdom.

The curse itself had been woven in such a way as to make people forget that Auradon had ever had a ruler, or to bypass it completely. It had kept it safe, but also relatively undisturbed for over ten years. Adam had a lot of catching up to do, so despite having found his True Love, in the form of a common girl from the nearby village by the name of Belle, they put the wedding on hold until he has a better grip on what it means to be a King.

He takes to it like a duck to water, learning politics and economics with a surprising amount of ease. He sets up trade routes, funds local businesses and starts funnelling money into the local area and forging alliances with nearby kingdoms. Belle is inducted into Adam’s court as Lady Belle and starts learning what it means to be a queen, having never been involved in court before.

Over the next few years, technology begins to spread at an ever-increasing rate. Hot running water is invented and spreads through all the kingdoms and with this, steam is easily harnessed to create the steam engine.

Adam approaches his closest neighbours to propose an alliance, something that could help them all fight back against even the most dangerous foes. He speaks to the King of Verrelac (who is trying to secure a good future for his kingdom for his son Prince Christopher and his new wife Princess Ella), King Stephen of Solaria (who is still very protective of his daughter, Princess Aurora), King and Queen of the Summerlands (the recently integrated kingdoms of Queen Snow and King Florian), Queen Eilonwy of North Riding, King Arthur of Camelot, King Richard of Westerly and Prince Regent Eric of Tirulia. After nearly a year of discussion, they write up an agreement to all operate under King Adam’s banner in exchange for better trade deals, better protections and more political powers. Tirulia is the last to sign, but with the presence of a new threat- the sea witch Morgana, and their daughter’s safety on the line, it is seen as the best choice to make. Adam brings the Fairy Godmother into his council and she agrees to help him with his goals.

For a year their prosperity grows, they develop even more technological marvels, first gaslight then electric lighting (after finding out how to harness electricity, aided by magic), better metalsmithing processes. Many factories are built, buildings are climbing higher than ever before, cities are developing rapidly into commercial and economic hubs, highly populated by citizens who are flooding in from villages on the outskirts for the new jobs and opportunities of city life. Automobiles are invented, making travelling easier. This presents Adam with the opportunity to travel to kingdoms outside of his banner-lands and start negotiations afresh. He enters negotiations with King Frederic of Corona and King Hubert of South Riding, Emperor Kuzco of East Riding, Emperor Qui of Northern Wei, The Sultan of Agrabah, Prince Naveen of Maldonia and Queen Anna of Arendelle. These talks take over a year but are also eventually finalised.

Cities are ever expanding in the heart of what will be Auradon. Places like London and Auradon Central are thriving metropolises and people are flocking to them. Businesses are booming, Auradon is more prosperous than ever. Add to that the invention of a mundane way to talk across long distances so that everyone can access it and not just those with magic, otherwise known as the internet, and the development of computers, based around the idea of magic mirrors but smarter and much less magic. Plane technology allows for transportation across even longer distances and over otherwise dangerous terrain.

This allows Adam to progress even further. He speaks to Simba, Tarzan and Louie in the deep jungles, King Edward of Faraway, King Fergus of The Borderlands and Chief Tui of Motunui, they all agree to sign up under his protections. With the rest of the Kingdoms now behind him, Adam can push his final, slightly more difficult goals, speaking to the gods that rule Olympia and the elemental spirits of Schwartzwald. He creates a treaty with the gods, allowing him control over the mortals in their lands. The elemental representative of Schwartzwald, Elsa of Arendelle agrees; driven by the strong desire to protect the people of her enchanted land (and with Arendelle already signed on and a promise of being left relatively alone, there seems to be few reasons to refuse).

The final stage of his uniting of the kingdoms is to remove the magic that cloaks Neverland, placing it firmly within the real world. He attempts to do the same for Wonderland but finds this exceedingly difficult, instead managing to convince many of its residents to instead simply retire to Auradon. Neverland enters into the agreement with Auradon, taking its place amongst the kingdoms. Atlantica is also drawn into the treaty.

With the entirety of the known world having agreed, King Adam finally consents to marry Lady Belle, who becomes Queen Belle. Each Kingdom is invited to a public vote for High King and Adam wins with an 85% majority. All the kingdoms sign a fresh new treaty document, declaring the unification of their kingdoms under one banner and one King. The calendars are reset, to herald a new age of union, years become marked as AU or ante unionem for anything from before or as IB or imperium bestia for this point onwards. 

Adam unveils his master plan for getting rid of threats to the kingdom, a prison off the coast, where human criminals and magical villains alike can be placed as there will be a magic-nullifying barrier around it. The idea of a prison to store their most dangerous enemies that can safely contain them, particularly one that is being marketed as having no cost to them, is seen as a good thing and The Isle of The Lost is created.

Adam enters into arrangements with the gods of Olympia, taking away Hades to lock him on the Isle for the crimes he committed against Zeus, and with Hades removed from the underworld, all of the previously dead villains are brought back to life to be placed under lock and key on the Isle. This is met with mixed opinions, but Adam smooths over any worries.

He passes the Recycling Act through his royal council, a law that will send unused food from Auradon to the Isle, saving on food costs and preventing waste, as well as providing a place to recycle old furniture for use, again reducing the costs. The council agrees and the goblin-barge system is altered to take waste from Auradon. Citizens are encouraged to send any surplus of goods (food, clothes, furniture) to drop-off points are set up for the Isle. This is marked as doing a good deed and so everyone contributes.

He begins renovations on a disused castle in Auradon, to turn it into a private preparatory school for the upper echelons of Auradonian society. Fairy Godmother is named headmistress and the class schedules and curriculum passes through both Adam and Fairy Godmother before being approved. They have blanket control over what the students will be learning.

However, something unexpected happens. A rebellion starts, the villains on the Isle are not content with being locked in a prison. Outside the barrier, there are those still sympathetic to the villains and a group of witches, including the daughter of one Madam Mim, decide to free the villains. Working together, they manage to punch a hole in the barrier, allowing some of the villains to escape. Maleficent leads them to Auradon and they fight against the royals, with the intention of overpowering them, dethroning them and enslaving them. However, they are beaten back by Fairy Godmother and Adam’s forces and they are transported back to the Isle. The barrier is immediately strengthened, and the people are told it was a magical mishap, rather than given the whole truth about the barrier having previously been vulnerable to synchronised magical attacks. Yen Sid volunteers to go to the Isle and make sure that nothing like this ever happens again.

Following this attempted rebellion, Adam declares that magic should no longer be used as a quick solution. It should not be used at all where possible, as most functions of magic have now been replaced with a suitable technology. He encourages all Good Citizens of Auradon to abandon their magic/magical devices/magical natures and instead embrace life at a level more challenging, but also more rewarding.

The Offscourings Act is passed, declaring that as the villains have thrown their charity back in their face with their attempted takeover, the food they are being sent will no longer be in the form of unused and unopened goods, but in the form of scraps. Citizens are no longer encouraged to send whole packets of food but are instead given special recycling bins, the contents of which are collected and sent to the Isle.

Not long after this, Queen Belle announces the joyous news that she is pregnant and several months later, King Adam and Queen Belle welcome a healthy baby boy into the world. They name him Benjamin Florian.

Over the next year Adam passes a new set of laws make his line of succession the automatic line of succession and to eliminate the voting aspect of becoming High King. As the Kingdom has seen nothing but prosperity and happiness, as well as the prevention of a rebellion, everyone agrees. Prince Ben is named heir to the crown and throne of Auradon.

With the passing of King Hubert of South Riding and the insistence of Phillip and Aurora that they wish to stay in Solaria and not take on more responsibility, South Riding is merged into the Kingdom of Corona, though they keep the name South Riding.

Nine years into Adam’s reign, the last of the known villains/criminals are caught and imprisoned on the Isle of the Lost. A huge celebration is thrown around the Kingdoms, as well as the campaign to Keep Auradon Good. Every citizen is encouraged to Be Good and to be the best person they can possibly be. This includes leaflets, billboards and posters. Some of these posters are shipped over to the Isle of the Lost, to try and encourage the residents to rehabilitate and reform. They are regularly replaced due to high levels of graffiti.

Over time the royal council is relegated to a more advisory role, but they still hold sway and political pressure, however the King gets final say on laws and regulations.

Criminal activity in Auradon is practically non-existent. Trade is good. Every nation is prosperous and happy. The skies are always blue, and the sun is always shining. Birds help princesses dress in the morning and life is good. The people are good. Everything in Auradon is perfectly good.

#disney descendants #disney's descendants #descendants #auradon #HISTORY | AURADON. #ABOUT | AURADON. #long post under the cut #not entirely sure i like it but we're coping

[ofregiums]

silence ! raise the royal standard, for the queen of the polish-lithuanian commonwealth, ISABELA HASLER, has arrived. being twenty-five years old, she is currently on the throne. many around the court call her the siren by virtue of her being ambitious and charismatic, while also being cunning and hot-headed.  —played by chloe bridges

— THE BASICS

full name: isabela anne hasler nee lopez known in history as: the commoner queen date of birth: november 20th age: twenty-five star sign: scorpio profession: stay at home mom ( modern verse ) / queen of the polish-lithuanian commonwealth  ( canon verse ) loyalty: house hasler, house de trastamara alignment: chaotic neutral mbti: intj spoken languages: spanish ( first ), english ( fluent ), german ( beginner ), polish ( beginner ) mother’s name: eleanor fry ( deceased in both verses ) father’s name: andrés lopez ( deceased in both verses ) siblings, if any: maria lopez ( older ) children: augustus hasler, helena hasler height: 5′5″ hair colour: black. eye colour: dark brown

— CANON VERSE

ambition is the word that follows isabela’s entire existence and it started from the very moment she was brought into this world. a product of a desperately conniving farmer of a father and a naive teacher of a mother, she was born in valencia, spain as a product of an affair. you see, her father was already married with a young child. but once eleanor came into his line of sight, he knew he had to haver her.

eleanor did not live long enough to bear the shame of being an unwed mother for she perished during childbirth. andrés took little isabela and brought her to his wife luisa to be raised alongside her older half-sister maria, who was only four at the time.

from a very early age, andrés suffered from a great rage that he took out on his wife and daughters. it was a bit of a vicious circle, really. maria did all that she could to protect isabela but luisa -- still bitter that she was a product of infidelity -- looked the other way if the rage was directed at the young girl. words, hands. . . it did not matter. it was simply the way he got his point across.

as isabela grew into her own, andrés and luisa began to notice her great beauty and began to scheme how best to utilize it to benefit their own wealth and status. it was beaten into isabela’s head that she would need to make something of herself for the sake of the family if she wanted to be considered useful. growing up, her parents only really noticed her for her looks and how that would benefit their wealth and status. it was beaten into her head that she needed to make something of herself.

maria ran away from home when she was seventeen, leaving a thirteen year old isabela heartbroken and completely alone to their parents’ mercy. the fact that her sister did not think to take her with her is something that the young woman carries with her to this very day. it was the beginning of learning not to trust anyone.

at the age of sixteen, isabela and a few friends snuck away to madrid for the weekend. it was there that she met the duke of galisteo -- handsome, nearly twice her age, incredibly rich, and very very married. the man was absolutely no match for isabela’s charms and took to her instantly. it was an utterly volatile relationship: she always feared the worst from him and he could never offer all himself to her. still, no amount of distance kept the duke away from isabela. it wasn’t before long before he was offering her an opportunity to attend the spanish royal court by his side. of course, isabela said yes. as she packed away for her new adventure, her father gripped his wrist and reminded her of her purpose on this earth.

isabela utterly thrived at the spanish court, making friends as high as the duke of huéscar and foreign princess of spain. darkly seductive and yet charming, she dazzled people after a conversation despite the clear insinuations of why she was there at court. behind those doe eyes and an innocent smile is a serpent. she cannot be trusted by most and people are only shown facades of her. 

tirelessly, isabela tried to wear the duke down to divorce his wife and marry her instead. however, the news that his wife was finally pregnant -- a point of contention between the two -- the duke broke off things with isabela and shattered the heart she never knew she even had.

she no longer had any remote standing at court. but as she was packing up to return to her wretched home, the queen of spain ( the former, not the current ) requested her to be a lady-in-waiting for her. it was a proper title to cover up what she really did for the queen, which was seduce rich and powerful people for information and secrets. it was exactly what she needed to ensure that she would not go home.

everything grew quite chaotic in spain afterwards. first, the crown prince died, causing the princess she considered a friend to flee to her home country with the no-more heir. not so soon afterwards, the king of spain joined his son beyond the grave. suddenly, the queen she worked for was simply an old widow and the next in line -- a woman -- took her place as the spanish monarch. isabela was then assigned to do the same for her as her mother before her.

under the command of the new queen, isabela was sent to bern with the instruction of collecting information of enemy countries. upon her arrival, she met the crown prince anton and was intrigued by him immediately. what started as nothing more than physical began to bloom into authentic feelings. isabela tried with all her might to deny that she was in love with him -- she couldn’t trust again, she couldn’t -- but eventually, she relented to them. after anton’s father was killed in the bern explosions, he proposed to isabela and she readily accepted. this made her not only a wife, but a queen.

her father and step-mother tried to return in isabela’s life, wanting to reap the benefits that she had sown. but no longer living in fear of them, she was a willing participant in having them both executed for “crimes against the queen”. the night after they died was the first night isabela had slept peacefully in all of her nights.

isabela’s reign, so far, is not a smooth one. following in the opinion of their former king, she is not particularly liked by the court or the common people at whole. while the nobles within the castle considered her to be nothing more than a witch that put the king under a spell, the common people found her shameless social climbing to be utterly revolting and hard to connect with. for the most part, isabela tries not to let it get to her but even she has feelings ( no matter how difficult it was to admit ). putting herself under much stress has made her more aloof and made things like having a baby difficult, as made clear by a miscarriage.

she now supports her husband in versailles where the peace talks have resumed after months of rebuilding. recently, she has learned that she is with child once again and while she is normally not one to waste silly time on hope, isabela prays with all of her that this will be a new beginning. for real, this time.

— MODERN VERSE

born in santa fe, isabela was marked by misfortunes from the day she was born. her mother died giving her life – a fact that her father has resented her for from day one. he returned the favor by drinking entirely too much and even going as far to harm the young girl out of anger. 

upon noticing a massive bruise on her arm at the age of nine, isabela’s elementary school counselor alerted the local authorities and she was swiftly taken out of the home and into foster care. she never saw her father again.

unfortunately, foster care proved to be just as bad at times. isabela bounced from home to home. some were okay, others were only in it for the money, and the rest were just as terrible as her father. because of this, she grew up incredibly distrustful and angry towards the world. she isolated herself at school and never had any friends. she didn’t mind it that much and perhaps even preferred it that way.

isabela ran away from home at the age of sixteen and never fucking looked back. after hitchhiking throughout the country, she realized she would need to find a way to keep herself afloat. it was when she found herself in los angeles where she met beau. at first thinking he was an unassuming man with a soft spot of saving her, isabela quickly realized that he wanted to recruit her into his business – a club. with no other options, she accepted.

she began working as a stripper as a way to pay her bills. eventually, she garnered enough popularity with the clients for her mysteriously dark and seductive ways. she was an enigma that no man could put their finger on and yet had such delight in trying. because of that, men would pay thousands a night to see her.

once she was nineteen, a more professional and high-in club offered her a spot in their den. isabela was promised more safety, more money, and more freedom. naturally, she accepted.

beau was not happy. he felt that she owed him her entire career. she obviously didn’t agree. an altercation occurred late one night on the sunset strip when beau waited for isabela’s shift to end and attacked her. the altercation landed isabela in the hospital where it would take her weeks to recover and months for her to heal and get back to work. it was only then that beau considered her free. but at what cost ?

she made a promise to herself that day to stop allowing men like her father, beau, her exes, anyone to treat her like an object. if another man laid his hands on isabela, she’d cut them off.

isabela worked at the club for years, a veteran among a sea of girls who come in and out. since she now has risen through the ranks, she entertains the likes of ceos and the rest of the 1% of california. one night, anton entered the club -- and the rest is history. if anyone would have once told isabela that she would not only fall in love with one of her patrons, but eventually marry and have a child with him too ??? well, she certainly would have laughed in their face.

she quit the job once she officially started dating anton and never once looked back. at times, isabela feels a bit unsure of the completely new life that she is living but she also relished in the feeling of being treated well after so long of the opposite. the only thing that matters to her at this point is her new family and that opinion is unlikely to ever change.

#abuse tw #miscarriage tw #( * fuck with a goddess and you get a little colder | isabela lopez. ) #( * introductions. )

[thegreenfairy13]

A Gotham Ghost Story - Part 5

When Oswald shoots Jim on the pier, his ghost is doomed to haunt the mobster. You can read the full story here. 

Thank you @mexican-texican for the beta! <3</p>

What follows feels like an onslaught. Jim is left with no choice but to follow the woman down gloomy corridors as he’s being pulled around corners and up the stairs. He wonders if death will always remain like this, being reduced to a sentient being that only observes but is unable to act.

A door behind him slams shut and the blonde hurls around to lock it. Finally, the cop can take a better look at her and gasps. He knows her, recognizes without a single doubt on his mind Gertrud Kapelput’s face however it can’t be . It’s a cop’s curse, being unable to forget a face, and even if he only ever saw her once he’s still absolutely certain.

But when looking closer, he notes how it can’t be, mustn’t be. The fragile woman might resemble Gertrud, they share the same nose, cheekbones, lips…but it can’t be. This woman is in her twenties, at most, and most notably, she’s got a ferocity and purposefulness to her that Oswald’s mother always lacked.

This young lady might be terrified but she’s not helpless. Jim observes her shoving a couple of dresses and some personal belongings into a bag before turning towards the window, for sure assessing the height and her chances should she be forced to leave the house by jumping through it.

They both freeze at the sound of steps coming down the hallway and before Jim can react, the woman does. “Hold the door!” she shrieks, looking directly at the Commissioner. When he doesn’t budge she repeats her request, more commanding this time.

Unable to process what’s happening, Jim does what he does best: saving someone. Turning, he drops his entire weight against the door. Closing his eyes, all he focuses on is the task at hand. James Gordon is still a cop and this woman is an innocent citizen demanding help. All he has to do is keep this door closed - at all costs. He sinks into the wood, feels each and every little atom, breathes the scents of wax, wood, and metal, imagines the lock fusing with the frame, imagines this single door holding up entire armies because if he doesn’t, whoever makes it through will kill her. He knows that with the same certainty he knows he’s dead, and he knows he won’t allow for it to happen.

The woman glances at him from the other side of the room, smiling gratefully. Jim smirks back at her and it suddenly hits him. She’s resilient, she’d make it without him too, but he buys her the time she needs. Another item follows the ones already in the bag and for a reason unknown, it makes him incredibly happy she’s able to gather everything she requires.

“I’m ready,” she states, already opening the window, preparing herself for the jump from the first floor. Holding out her hand, she invites Jim to follow her. Dazed, he takes it and for the second time today, he actually feels anything . He senses her warmth, picks up on her scent, which is also vaguely familiar, and vows to protect her.

“We’ll land softly,” she orders and Jim nods.

“You can see me,” he states, slightly awed and noting how his state of mind resembles being drunk. Not that he minds - it’s wonderful, as if someone had taken his brain and wrapped it up in clouds.

“Of course I can see you, silly,” she responds. “I conjured you,” the woman declares matter of factly. “I prayed for a guardian to watch over me and my child, I made the sacrifice - what good would it be if you’d appear and I couldn’t see you?” She shrugs as she tries ushering Jim toward the window.

Someone’s banging against the door already. However, Jim is certain they have all the time they need. Not a single second extra, but not one less, even. It’s a funny thing of her to say that though, that she made a sacrifice when he’s the one who died, he muses.

Jim already wants to contradict her when remembering he still has to get his facts straight first. “You’re Gertrud, indeed,” he asserts, waiting for her to confirm.

“Who else would I be?” she laughs a little bit, probably wondering what type of third-class guardian her magic procured. Given the circumstances, Jim accepts the concept of conjurings with shocking ease. Compared to dying, it’s not that outlandish though.

The lawman wants to laugh out loud. When truly taking in her physique, Jim wonders how he possibly could have missed her circumstances in the first place. Gertrud is delicate, way too thin for it to be healthy, therefore the slight swell of her belly should have caught his attention earlier.

“You’re pregnant,” he points out, feeling a bit foolish for stating the obvious the second time in a row.

Instinctively, she covers her belly with her free hand. “You’re here to protect him first,” Gertrud orders. “My safety is secondary. We made the deal, demon!”

“Demon?” Jim chuckles bemused and Gertrud’s face falls.

“You’re not…?”

“A demon?” the dead man finishes. “Hardly. I have no idea what I am. I only know I died and it was because of the baby you’re carrying.”

The women’s eyes open almost comically as she backs away from Jim in sudden horror. She grabs her bag, makes for the window once more, however backs down in sudden desperation.

“But you helped me,” she cries out, frantically looking for another way out. Feeling guilty, Jim raises his hands placatingly.  

The door behind Jim rattles again, louder this time, and the cop feels a sudden wave of urgency, as if he was forced to carry on, else he might give away his chances.

“I’m a cop, I help people,” he says matter of factly, opting for a soothing tone.

“You’re a liar, demon!” she accuses instead, eyes rolling wildly from here to there and suddenly, it hits him. Jim didn’t recognize her right away but now, as she’s pacing the room hysterically, running her hands through the strands of her hair, he perceives the madness.

In later years, her mental decline will be clear for everyone to see, but today the illness is nothing but a small seed. One day, she’ll seek salvation in the illusions her mind will gracefully procure for her and the thought alone saddens the cop. How must it have been, being raised by a mother gradually unable to differ fiction from reality? Is it the reason Oswald never told her about his true profession? It must have been easier, leaving her to her delusions and letting her see whatever she chose to.

Stomping her feet, she focuses all her rage towards the cop. “I’ll raise a good boy!” she declares with conviction. “I’ll have a beautiful baby boy, and he will be happy, he’ll be honest, he’ll be generous, and he’ll know nothing but love. I swore,” she almost screams and Jim shakes his head.

There’s something about Gertrud that makes arguing quite difficult, impossible even. “I said your baby is the cause for my death,” Jim sighs wearily. “I never said he’s responsible for it.” That’s not entirely true, but it’s a lie Jim can live with. Everything considered, dealing with men like Oswald on a daily basis is like playing Russian Roulette; he had it coming, especially after meddling with his freedom the way he did. Heck, he got ten good years, even.

Jim wishes he could close his eyes for a second, escape this new reality for a second. The only grace he’s being given is the ability to stare at a stain on the wall. He wills himself to focus.

“So it was an accident?” the future kingpin’s mother inquires curiously. “And even after your death, you’re here to help?”

“One could put it that way,” Jim admits drily.

The door rattles for the third time, a warning for the both of them to hurry up as a vivid image flashes before the cop’s inner eye: he observes himself stepping away, sees a lock breaking and wood splintering, he sees an outraged man storming inside, Gertrud screaming. Jim sees blood and he feels nauseous. He never could, could he?

Taking a deep breath, he imagines Gertrud’s lifeless body, a baby never born. It feels wrong and terrible, this death.

‘I will faithfully serve and protect anyone in need of a helping hand. I will never kill unless there is no other option to fulfill my vow.’ Jim silently recites the oath he took when joining the force, pushing away an image of his daughter running joyfully towards him. All of this is just a test, Jim tells himself. None of this is real and the past can’t be changed, he remembers his physics-teacher from fifth grade saying so.

Face lighting up, Gertrud claps her hands. “He’ll be exceptional, won’t he?” she muses. “What a man he’ll grow up to be, how much he’ll be loved when his friends even seek to protect him after their death?”

“You are friends, aren’t you?” she urges after a moment, giving him the same treatment he received the first time Barbara introduced him to her parents. It’s a look of pure scrutiny as she carefully sizes him up, for sure wondering if he’s good enough for her precious Oswald.

“We’re friends,” Jim rushes to clarify, fully aware he’s finally saying the words her son longed to hear for years.

Gertrud opens her mouth, indecisive. Jim isn’t sure why he’s secretly proud of the fact that she seems to be slightly disappointed in the statement before her demeanor changes again. It’s slightly endearing how much she and her son have in common.

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she assesses the dead man once more. “You said you’re a cop,” Gertrud recalls. “If you are indeed a cop, why would you , the corrupt scum of Gotham, be friends with my baby boy?”

Rolling his eyes, Jim prepares for his well-studied not-all-cops speech, the very same he bestows upon hesitant witnesses.

“I’d teach my child better than to hang out with cops and robbers,” Gertrud declares furiously and honestly, Jim can’t blame her, yet he’s got a trick up his sleeve that works even better than any type of persuasion.

“All honest cops have either quit or died,” he snaps back. “As we both can see, I’m the latter,” he adds drily.

Despite herself, Gertrud chuckles. “Can’t argue with that, darling,” he declares warmly.

“We should leave now,” Jim reminds her when he feels something pressing against his back. There’s no urgency though. He feels it again, this floating, unearthly sensation of being a mere pawn in a greater game, unable to act but to follow the path of destiny.

“Do you think you can help me?” he wonders out loud when taking Gertrud’s hand, leaping out of the window together with her.

He hears the wind rustling through the trees the very second she shouts her answer. They land on the grass, both chuckling in delight when she brushes off the leaves from her dress while Jim is still completely unaffected.

“Who was that lunatic anyway,” Jim wants to know, already running into the woods with her, admiring the long strands of hair dancing through the air. She looks so alive , like that, not even knowing how close indeed she’d been to death. If just one tiny thing had turned out differently, if she had tripped, if she had been silent instead of loud, if the door had not been made from oak, if…

Life always beats death, Jim decides. There’s no hidden romanticism in a life cut short, in a heart stopped from beating. Gertrud is gorgeous, and full of hope and love for her son’s future. He couldn’t take that from her even if there might have been a chance it would have stopped his own suffering.

Laughing in sheer relief, Gertrud runs through the trees, the bag flapping over her shoulder. “Who should it have been,” she grins. “My baby boy’s grandfather, of course.”

Even Jim has to giggle. For Gotham’s standards, that sounds like such a mundane family-drama.

“I need your help, though,” he shouts in lieu of an answer. “I need to be alive again,” he adds and Gertrud stops.

The good mood from mere moments ago is lost instantly and Jim swears he can almost feel the temperature dropping himself when his stomach falls.

“Oh, my poor baby,” Gertrud says, cupping his face lightly between her hands. “My poor, poor baby,” she repeats sadly. “The dead can’t return to life. Not like that. Either, they are gone, or they need to fulfill their purpose.” Jim hopes it’s only a trick of the light she suddenly sounds crazed.

After pondering for a moment, her face suddenly lights up. “But I can do one thing for you,” she proposes excitedly. “I told you I’d make sure my son stays away from cops. I’ll teach him not to befriend one, maybe…”

The gunshot echoes through the woods, cutting her line of thought short. That has been the last warning and Jim can practically feel the time running out as his mind is getting dragged through space and time, hurled mercilessly through the void back to where he started.

The feeling is similar to a cramp, only worse, and a hundred times more painful. Here goes his only chance for help, Jim thinks, as Gertrud leaves him behind, taking his ability to communicate with another living being with her. He screams after her, begs her to call him back, to help him however possible.

Turning, she reaches for him, tries grabbing his hand again yet they both already know she can’t follow. “I promise,” she shouts after him and Jim wants to weep.

#gobblepot #Fanfiction

[bowan-deflorentine]

Extremely detailed character sheet template

Character’s full name: Bowan deFlorentine

Reason or meaning of name: OOC I like gender-neutral or masc-leaning names for all characters, and thought it sounded cool at the time! I just took “Bowen” and added an “a” to make it slightly more feminine, visually.

Character’s nickname: “Bo”

Reason for nickname: It’s short and cute!

Birth date: January 23rd (the day she hit lvl 10 in-game :P I use that for all my Wow RP characters)

Physical appearance

Age: 37

How old do they appear: About the same

Weight: 145lb / 65kg, an average healthy weight if on the lighter side

Height: 5′11″ / 180cm, taller than average for cis women

Body build: Angular, long-legged, lean

Shape of face: Oval-shaped, with sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline and strong chin

Eye color: Dark brown

Glasses or contacts: neither

Skin tone: Medium brown

Distinguishing marks: Broken nose, blind & scarred right eye

Predominant features: Probably the nasty dead eye

Hair color: Black

Type of hair: Thick and wavy

Hairstyle: Wears it long and down, or in a low ponytail tied with a ribbon

Voice: Low & rich with a heavy Gilnean lowborn accent

Overall attractiveness: Super subjective, but she’s got that handsome aging roughed-up scoundrel sailor look if you’re into that  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

Physical disabilities: Blind on her right side

Usual fashion of dress: Heavy leather or canvas coats, high collars, heeled, thigh-high leather boots, wide-brimmed hats with feathers in the band, loose long-sleeved blouses tucked into a high waistline, fencer's gloves

Favorite outfit: TBH probably her old Cavalier uniform and coat; a dark- and steel-blue laced-up vest, leather, with gold and brown trimmings and a wide-brimmed hat with a white feather in it. Single blue leather pauldron with the gold Cavalier star on it

Jewelry or accessories: Very little, usually one or two small hoop earrings. A golden wedding ring on a chain necklace under her shirt. No rings or bracelets

Personality

Good personality traits: Motherly, caring, charming, helpful, protective, curious

Bad personality traits: Moody, impulsive, stubborn, reckless, anxious, violent

Mood character is most often in: Current day, bitter and melancholic

Sense of humor: Inside jokes, straight-faced funny comments, good-natured teasing.

Character’s greatest joy in life: Her seven-year-old son, Rory.

Character’s greatest fear: Losing either Rory or Jeán, her husband.

Why?: Because she loves them, and they’re the only family she has left in the entire world, and she’s lost/ given up everything else in her life to protect them and to make a life for her family.

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil?: She’s numb to everything that’s not extreme at this point, so again, losing either Rory or Jeán

Character is most at ease when: When her family is not only happy but safe, as are her close friends, and she’s at home somewhere warm and dry and comfortable and there's no war going on

Most ill at ease when: Someone she loves is missing, or hurt, or in great danger, or when she doesn't know where she is / is lost

Enraged when: Something threatens the safety of her loved ones or children

Depressed or sad when: When she’s isolated away from people she loves.

Priorities: She’s been forced into survival mode lately, so #1 is her family’s and her own safety. Beyond that, her son’s happiness, her husband’s happiness, her friends’ happiness, and then protecting others. She's happy when others are happy.

Life philosophy: There’s some good left in the world, and it’s worth fighting for. But family always comes first.

If granted one wish, it would be: To bring Timira Redsummer back

Why?: She was her closest friend and now she’s dead, and she’s tired of losing people and having no control over all the loss in her life.

Character’s soft spot: Children, and music

Is this soft spot obvious to others?: OH absolutely, she’s SUCH a mom. Her rough grimdark rogue sailor deal just vanishes around kids and she’s making funny faces and listening very intently to their babytalk stories and crouching all the way down so they can take her hand and lead her around to show her interesting things, etc. The usual supercute little kid stuff. She loves children and is very good with them.

Greatest strength: Never ever giving up when it comes to protecting others, accomplishing her goals at any means necessary, even at the cost of her own safety or health (which crosses very quickly into one of her greatest weaknesses)

Greatest vulnerability or weakness: She can be on the self-destructive side, and is easily goaded into fights against her better judgement because she can just not back down from a threat or a challenge.

Biggest regret: Leaving Teldrassil during the War of Thorns before the attack, when it was just citizens and adventurers and soldiers helping to evacuate / fortify / bring supplies to the city, as they were expecting a siege. She left to go get her ship in Stormwind and bring it as a back-up to get escaping citizens out in case they needed to evacuate. She sailed back to a completely burning tree.

Minor regret: Not having a wedding with Jeán. They had been together for a few years and had talked about getting married, but were too busy with work. They got hastily married on paper before she left for Kul Tiras.

Biggest accomplishment: Founding the Stormwind Cavaliers with Jeán, and the few years she spent as the captain for them. They did a lot of good work for the city and for the people, especially in the surrounding territories like Elwynn, Westfall, and Duskwood. 

Minor accomplishment: She can make the meanest cup of Gilnean black lavender tea

Past failures they would be embarrassed to have people know about: Actively sheltering a rogue Uncrowned agent and trying to cover up all the VERY obvious murders they kept committing under her watch while working for the city guard, oops   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Why?: Because at the time, they were very close friends and she didn’t have the guts to make the tough calls.

Character’s darkest secret: As of now in the storyline, currently, hunting and sinking Horde ships out of revenge for Teldrassil. She hasn’t told a soul and uses an alias with the crew she works with.

Does anyone else know?: Not yet! 

Goals

Drives and motivations: She wants vengeance for all the lives lost in Teldrassil, but the root of it comes from wanting to protect her family and friends and loved ones. Second only to those feelings is her desire for freedom, and sees sailing and going rogue as an opportunity to kill three birds with one stone.

Immediate goals: Sink Horde ships.

Long term goals: Building a better world for her son and her friends’ children.

How the character plans to accomplish these goals: Gathering a crew of other disgruntled Alliance soldiers and hunting down as many Horde ships and soldiers as they can before they get caught and probably executed.

How other characters will be affected:  😬 Well Jeán was a pirate and gave up everything to live his life with Bowan, and to find she’s been doing basically piracy behind his back would be a big oof. Plus before it all she was a very proud soldier of the Alliance and strove to better herself and to be a good and kind person, so it would probably be very disturbing news to others. Then again, that’s only if they find out.

Past

Hometown: Keel Harbor, Gilneas. 

Type of childhood: Strict-ish. Father was a sailor, mother was a wealthy merchant’s adopted daughter. Her father tried to teach her freedom and passion, her mother tried to teach her obedience and to be ladylike. Mother ultimately won and she was more or less prepared for marriage into her teen years until she ran away to escape the pressure.

Pets: A hound dog named Jager.

First memory: Meeting her maternal grandmother for the first- and last time. She was a harvest witch and disappeared to escape witch hunts. 

Most important childhood memory: Sailing with her father outside the harbor for the first time. It was a dangerous trip and they nearly capsized, but she loved every second of it. 

Why: While Bowan and her mother Louise loved eachother, they weren’t as close as she and her father, Bayne. Her father always encouraged her to be herself and to blaze her own path, and her mother told her that she would never find a husband acting like that. Really experiencing sailing and the sea made her realize that that was quite all right, because if being a good wife meant giving up exciting things like sailing then the choice was obvious for her. 

Childhood hero: Genn Greymane

Dream job: Professional bard! She *almost* achieved that after running away from home in Gilneas but never could quite make it happen.

Education: Homeschooling and a few years of attending a little bitty schoolhouse in the countryside. 

Religion: The lowkey Light worship Gilneas practiced, and some of the Old Ways.

Finances: Not poor, but her father had to work very hard to support them and tried not to let it show. 

Present

Current location: Kul Tiras

Currently living with: No one she’s close to, a crew of other soldiers unhappy with the way the war with the Horde was handled.

Pets: Ardis, her beautiful black mare, is stabled in Stormwind.

Religion: Same as her childhood, a bit of Old Ways and a bit of Light.

Occupation: Unofficially ex-Alliance soldier and guard, pirate

Finances: Actually doing pretty well from herself considering all the ships she’s robbed! :D 

Family

Mother: Louise Ollington

Relationship with her: Strained, but they were family at the end of the day. She was born into a family of harvest witches who were culled by some backwoods witch hunts. She was dropped off in Gilneas city and adopted by wealthy bookkeeping nobles. The entire experience still left her very unhappy and traumatized, so she clung very tightly to her new life and tried to make sure her daughter would be safe and not face the same challenges as she did when she went against tradition. 

Father: Bayne Arrow

Relationship with him: Very close. A sailor from Tanaris, he tried to make as comfortable of a life for Louise but could never really live up to her expectations. They still loved each other very much, and he adored his daughter and tried to instill in her the same love of adventure and the sea as his family had. Ultimately his teachings won over, but it cost the family a lot.

Siblings: None.

Relationship with them: n/a

Spouse: Jeán deFlorentine.

Relationship with them: Jeán were best friends long before the relationship became romantic. They’re perfect for eachother, both cocky swaggering rogues who love duel banter and sailing and getting into trouble. They had all sorts of wild adventures and hit rock bottom and bounced back together, and they bonded hard and fast. They never really bothered with marriage before because they didn’t feel like their relationship needed it, but they got married on paper before Bowan left for the war in Kul Tiras just so they didn’t leave any regrets in case she didn’t come back.

Children: Rory, her son. 

Relationship with them: He’s a bastard, but she doesn’t like to talk about it or his father. She loves him more than anything and is doing her best to raise him to be a good person. He’s a very gentle and sweet boy.  

Other important family members: None.

Favorites

Color: Dark grey-teal, the color of the sea during a storm. 

Least favorite color: Pink, only because it’s just very much not her color. 

Music: Fiddle and hurdy-gurdy.

Food: Pandaren cuisine, especially dumplings and spring rolls.

Literature: Romance, and inspiring heroic adventure novels. 

Form of entertainment: Music! She loves to sing and play her own instruments or listen to others perform. 

Mode of transportation: Her ship, a former Stormwind sloop with black sails. 

Most prized possession: Her Cavalier rapier, a gift from Jeán when the unit was founded. 

Habits

Hobbies: She used to practice minor medicinal alchemy when she was young. She likes to read and write for fun too, and riding her horse on the trails around Stormwind city when she still lived there.

Plays a musical instrument?: Yes! Mandolin and guitar. She’s a little rusty but she’s talented. 

Plays a sport?: Fencing! 

How they would spend a rainy day: Brewing tea and reading by the fireplace, either alone or to her son. OR sailing.

Smokes: Yes, occasionally.

Drinks: Too much these days, before also occasionally. 

Other drugs: None

What do they do too much of?: OVERTHINK

What do they do too little of?: Taking a goddamn breath and thinking things through before jumping into dangerous situations.

Extremely skilled at: Sailing. 

Extremely unskilled at: Cooking.

Nervous tics: Bouncing knee, cracking knuckles, drumming fingers 

Usual body posture: Confident but closed-off. 

Mannerisms: Lively even in poor moods, lots of expressive gestures and hand motions

Peculiarities: She seems fidgety and checks over her shoulder too much until she gets her back to a wall. She always goes for the wall seat and likes to face the door. 

Traits

Optimist or pessimist?: Tries to be an optimist but her natural state is pessimist. It’s just been beat out of her.

Introvert or extrovert?: Ambivert, she’s a social butterfly in good moods but gets moody fast and retreats to be alone often. 

Daredevil or cautious?: Some sort of unstable mix of both, anxious a lot and overthinks danger but then does stupid recklessly brave things like, for example, challenge old and terrifying pirate captains to duels she has ZERO hope of winnings (this has happened like three times now??)

Logical or emotional?: Emotional. She’s not controlled by her emotions but they are powerful. Listening to her heart and her gut keeps her alive.

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat?: Surprisingly organized and neat. When she had her own desk at the Cavalier office it was fancy and extremely well-kept. 

Prefers working or relaxing?: Prefers working. She’s a bit of a workaholic, and doesn’t like to sit still for too long.

Confident or unsure of themself: Fairly confident these days.

Animal lover?: Yes, but not to the point to keep pets.

Self-perception

How they feel about themself: Her confidence isn’t low, but currently she’s felt helpless about her life and her path and is doing whatever she can to feel like she has some control. She knows some of the things she’s doing is wrong but feels like she has to make the hard calls for once and do the dirty work no one else is willing to do. 

One word the character would use to describe self: Ambitious.

What does the character consider their best personality trait?: Her dedication to her family. 

What does the character consider their worst personality trait?: Her inability to let go of the past. 

What does the character consider their best physical characteristic?: She loves her hair and takes pride in keeping it long and brushed and clean.

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic?: Her broken nose that was never set right and healed crooked, and now her scarred eye. She thinks it’s ugly and will frighten children. 

How does the character think others perceive him/her: Hopefully, as someone they can trust and will be there for them when they need her, always.

What would the character most like to change about themself: Her paranoia and her anxiety. She’s been horribly wounded by the past and wants so badly to heal from it but she just can’t find the right way to do it yet. 

Relationships with others

Opinion of other people in general: Bowan has a low opinion of people as a whole, and views people in general as something to defend herself against, but believes in the good of individuals. 

Does the character hide their true opinions and emotions from others?: Sometimes. She’s the sort to hide her minor feelings from others to save their own feelings, and isn’t above lying to loved ones if she thinks it will protect them.

Person character most hates: Sylvanas Windrunner (now that Deathbreathe is dead). She wants her dead SO BAD.

Best friend(s): Timira Redsummer, Jeán deFlorentine, Watcher and Seeker, Reiko Al-Tariq.

Love interest(s): Jeán deFlorentine

Person character goes to for advice: Timira

Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: Watcher and Seeker, the Twins. They used to be in a spy unit together but they’re a lot younger than she is and just wants them to be safe. All of the Cavaliers, too, present and former.

Person character feels shy or awkward around: No one, she’s over those feelings.

Person character openly admires: Lorna Crowley

Person character secretly admires: Princess Tess Greymane (secret due to her work for the Uncrowned).

Most important person in character’s life before story starts: Her father

After story starts: Rory, her son

found here

(( Okay I know this is a monster so I won’t tag anyone but please feel free to fill this out, it’s so fun and makes you really think about the details!! ))

#Extremely detailed character sheet template #character sheet #writing #OKAY #two hours later #i altered the wording on a few or snipped out some that were giving me trouble but the original is through the link at the end

[crowkingwrites]

War Creatures (Ch.35)

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Summary:  In a crossover of the Nine Realms and Westeros, you find yourself in the dawn of a rebellion. Odin, Lord of Pyke, has made alliances with your family, House Grover of Highgarden. Your father’s army will join Odin’s army to overthrow the King and take the Iron Throne. There is just one cost to this alliance.You must marry the dark, young prince Loki.In a world where Kings do as they wish, where war is an oncoming storm, and peace is nothing but a dream, you are lost but brave. Loki is more powerful than he seems, and love will grow from the flames of war.

Words: 2261  // [AO3 Link] //  Seasons 1-3 of War Creatures - Chapter 31 - Chapter 32 - Chapter 33 - Chapter 34

:Ser Petra POV:

Ser Petra was knighted after he came to Highgarden, cleaning up his act. After fighting in illegal rings and sometimes going days without food, Ser Petra had grown very used to his cushy knighthood quickly. He deserved it and he had grown to be useful to Lord Garth and his family. His unmatched fighting skills with a sword and his intellect have made from indispensable to the ruling family. No one would suspect the most loyal knight to betray the house he served.

He was there when Lord Garth had gathered his men around and spoke of rebellion, even treason.

“He’s taking boys.” Lord Garth’s voice boomed. “Little boys from their families. First, it was the killing of innocents. Then, it his wavering mind. He is no longer fit to be king. King Malekith has given into the darkness that rules his mind. We must stop it.”

“I don’t mean to question you, my lord, but how do you propose we take down the King?” Ser Petra asked, scratching his beard.

“I’m glad you asked. I have been in contact with Lord Odin of the Iron Islands. He is planning for an open rebellion to take the crown himself. This is a man of power, knowledge, and value. I believe in him and his cause.”

“So, savages from the Iron Islands and Highgarden soldiers?”

“No. They are not savages. Iron Islanders have skills on the sea that we do not possess. We have advantage on the land and the numbers. Lord Odin has also spoken to Lord Steffon of Casterly Rock to join our alliance. We’ll seal these alliances with marriage. Lord Odin has two sons. I have a daughter. Lord Steffon has a daughter.”

“You’re marrying your daughter off to a man of Pyke?” Ser Petra narrowed his eyes. “I don’t mean to criticize, my lord, but I fear he may not treat your daughter well.”

“Any man who lays a harmful finger on any of my daughters will face a wrath that the Nine Kingdoms have never known. Besides, I’ve heard terrible tales spun about the Dark Prince. If he is as scary as they say he is, we will win this rebellion.” Lord Garth’s men cheered on while Ser Petra left the room. He took a vow that day. He swore he would protect the ruling family. He swore his sword to the King. He would not have that king removed.

Ser Petra met with a pretty servant girl in the courtyard. She smiled brightly when she saw him at first, but then her smile faded when she saw the wrath.

“Are you leaving for King’s Landing soon?” he asked her.

“In less than a fortnight, why?” She batted her pretty eyes. “Did you want to toss around in the hay?” “No. I have whispers that need to be sent to the King and his small council. Lord Garth speaks of treason and an open rebellion.”

“Rebellion?”

“The Lords of Highgarden, the Iron Islands, and Casterly Rock are forming alliances with marriage. Soon, their armies will march across the Nine Kingdoms and they’ll attack the king.” The servant girl left sooner than planned. Royal spies couldn’t hold information like this for long, and Ser Petra was desperate to get to work. The Nine Kingdoms had been living peacefully for decades. He wouldn’t have this peace disturbed now.

Whenever he could, he intercepted ravens. He listened carefully to Lord Garth’s words and deciphered them as best as he could for the royal spies that stayed within the walls of Highgarden. Of course, Lord Garth never suspected his own. Ser Petra thought himself as smater than the aging man.

“What have you heard of the alliance?” a young spy asked him.

“The Dark Prince will be here soon. I suspect the wedding will be soon after that. They want it to be hush-hush.”

“How do you know? Has Lord Garth revealed any days? Any details?”

“No. His lady wife handles all of the wedding crap. He is handling the rebellion. He will not make any moves until his daughter is married.”

“Leaving him open for a siege,” the spy smiled grimly. Like a ghost the spy was gone and disappeared into the walls of Highgarden where most spies hide themselves. In the coming days, Ser Petra saw Highgarden at her best. People teeming with hospitality and kindness. The best dishes were set out and the palace was cleaner.

He strolled down the hallway until he saw a posse of people heading in the opposite direction. Leading them all was Lord Garth himself. His voice still boomed in the corridors of the old castle. Next to him stood a young man. His long dark hair was combed back. Ser Petra judged his dark clothing. It looked as if he was attending a funeral, not an upcoming wedding. He noted the sword and daggers strapped to his sides.

Ser Petra also saw the young man match his glare.

“Ah! Ser Petra!” Lord Garth came closer. He gestured to the young man next to him. “This is the Dark Prince Loki. My daughter’s betrothed.”

“My lord,” Ser Petra bowed his head. He looked towards Loki’s way again and noticed his younger features. “How old are you, boy?”

“Don’t call me, boy,” Loki’s eyes glared. “I’m seventeen.” “You’re still a boy,” Ser Petra laughed at him. Although he planned for Highgarden to fall during a siege, he loved the girls. Cecelia, Dahlia, and Amaryllis would be safe should anything were to happen. He found himself smiling after meeting Loki. At least, they were around the same age. Ser Petra had spent his years in knighthood watching Cecelia grow up before his eyes. They were not blood related, but Petra had a paternal affection for her.

They met again in another hallway just as a spy ran off and disappeared. Loki stood right behind him, seeing what happened.

“Have you driven your squire mad, ser?” Loki asked. “He ran off in a hurry.”

“I ordered him to do something of urgency. Can I help you, my lord?”

“I was told that you possess knowledge of the Highgarden army. I had hoped to ask you questions.”

“Questions? Why do you need to know?”

“I am to lead them into battle. I want to know everything I can,” Loki explained, already bored of this transaction. Ser Perta started laughing.

“You? A boy of seventeen? Lead an army? You must be as mad as the king!”

“I am not. And I will be leading this army.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will, boy,” Ser Petra left an impression on Loki. One that carried into the wedding. Ser Petra saw Cecelia smiling in her beautiful gown while Loki sulked and stared at Ser Petra from afar. He didn’t mind much. This was an evening to celebrate new friends and love. Not planning the undermining of Highgarden.

As soon as Loki and Cecelia left, Ser Petra got to work in aiding as many spies as he could through Highgarden. Some had posed as servants, other posed as poets and intellects, some had posed as children seeking asylum from the war. Months had passed and he was among the first to welcome back Cecelia and her growing stomach back into the safety of Highgarden.

He didn’t anticipate this at all.

When visiting with the lady, Ser Petra took the time to ask careful questions as one of the royal spies poured tea for Cecelia.

“Is it love that I see in your eyes?” Perta laughed. “I have seen you happy but not like this.”

“Thank you, Ser Petra. You can say it is love.”

“Your husband didn’t seem too happy on the wedding day. What happened?”

“We grew. Our love needed tending and kindness. Now we reap the harvest of it.” Cecelia said, patting her swelling belly. Ser Petra smiled genuinely.

“I hope for you sake it’s a boy. I heard from your father that Loki has declared himself to be a Frost Giant. He took his own sigil. Why?”

“To be king. Loki wishes to take the Iron Throne for himself,” Cecelia said. The spy had stumbled over and stopped in her walk. She took a breath and continued. “Is she alright?”

“She’ll be fine. How are you? How is the baby?”

“We’re both healthy and fine. Lady Eir has been so incredibly helpful in that aspect. She expects me to give birth in the colder months coming.”

“Ah yes, the harvesting months. What a wonderful time to have a child.” After conferring with the spies around him, it was final. Loki presented a real threat against the crown unlike his father and older brother who had lost so many battles. Both of their armies headed south towards the civil war that broke out against the noble elf families.

If Loki was to die, so was everything that went with him, including Cecelia and her newborn.

“Is there another arrangement?” Ser Petra asked the sell sword spy cleverly named No Face. No Face sighed beneath his metal mask.

“No. Lady Cecelia and the babe must die. Either you do it your way or I’ll do it my way. Either way, it must be done. King Malekith wishes it.”

“Cecelia is powerless without Loki. Tit was an arranged marriage between the two. She does not want the throne for herself. She never has. Her baby will be born into this world wanting nothing but life.”

“Yet, the baby possesses Loki’s blood. The baby must die,” No Face warned. Ser Petra retreated back into his room, wondering if what he was doing was right for the realm anymore.

:Loki POV:

The chill of the North meant nothing to Loki and his new army of Frost Giants. They proudly marched out of the villages and homes to join his cause. Loki rode a new, bigger horse. She was black with eyes that looked like drops of blood. Caina, Loki dubbed her. He always wanted a good warhorse.

“Where do we march, my king?” a frost giant rode beside him. He was tall and lanky like Loki was. He had dark markings around every inch of exposed skin Loki saw with his eye.

“We march back to my wife, cousin,” Loki smiled. “She lives in the south where our dwarven and human friends wish to be right now.” “To Highgarden, it is.”

As the troops approached a village, Loki had an awfully good idea. He turned to his cousin on his right.

“Our warriors, they still needed to be blooded, am I correct?”

“Yes,” his cousin confirmed. “Many of us have been trained, but we have not seen battle yet.” A mischievous smile played on his lips. His eyes turned dark.

“Show me what you can do. Sack the village.”

The small Northern village burned to ashes in only an hour. Several mens’ heads sat on spikes and decorated the border of the village. Loki rode Caina through the ashes and looked down upon his easy victory. Not much of the village was left except for food and its people. Children held onto their mothers’ torn skirts while they were captured. Each person filed into the carriages. Some men had to be chained and separated from the rest.

Loki heard a man say ‘fuck the dark king’ and spit on the ground. That was his mistake.

“What’s your name?” Loki asked of the man, a smile played on his lips.

“Why does it matter?” the man yelled back. A frost giant soldier kicked the back of his knee which sent him down to the ground hard.

“Kneel before your King!” the soldier said. Loki jumped off his horse and approached the burnt man. His clothes were dirty and parts of him were burnt. His beard caught the snow that fell from the sky. Loki’s sword touched the tip of his chin.

“I have taken your home. I have destroyed everything, and yet you have the courage to tell me to fuck off?”

“You’re going to kill us, aren’t you?” the burnt man said. “Doesn’t matter whose king. You’ll end up killing us anyways. You’re no better than the Mad King.”

Loki put his sword to his neck, watching the man get increasingly nervous of his own fate. The burnt man closed his eyes and accepted what fate handed to him, a quick death. Loki put his sword down and knelt in front of the man.

“I’m not like the Mad King. I can be merciful,” Loki told the burnt man. He took his dagger and shoved it into the man’s side. “See? I gave you the pleasure of watching your family come away with me while you lay dying here in the snow.” The burnt man cried out, holding his side and rolling on the ground. Loki left him there as he rolled and writhed.

Satisfied with himself, Loki cleaned his blade until another cousin caught his attention.

“My king, this one says she knows you,” this frost giant had a young woman chained to his horse. Her light red locks and sad eyes tied knots in Loki’s stomach. This woman did know him, and he knew her very well.

“Lorelei?” Loki breathed out. The woman looked up to Loki with a grateful smile. A tear streamed down her cheek. She was dirty and bruised. Her shoes had very little to protect her from the snow beneath her toes. Her light clothing suggested her profession.

“Hello Loki,” Lorelei greeted. “I knew you’d never forget me. I knew you’d come back to me.”

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[inhumansforever]

Inhuman of The Day

July 18th - Luna

Luna Maximoff-Amaquelin is the daughter of Crystal of The Inhuman Royal Family and the Mutant speedster known as Quicksilver. Luna was the first child born on Attilan following the city’s relocation to the Blue Area of the Moon and was named after Attilan’s new home.   She is additionally the first recorded offspring of an Inhuman/Mutant pairing.

Despite her parents’ lineage, Luna was born a seemingly human infant with no mutant powers nor pre-established Inhuman abilities.  Luna’s mother, Crystal, was not concerned with her daughter being born a human.  Her father, however, was incensed.  Quicksilver saw himself as the son and heir to Magneto, the long-heralded figurehead of Mutant supremacy.  Quicksilver looked down on regular ‘flatscan’ humans as inferior to Mutants and he was outraged and embarrassed that his own daughter, the granddaughter of Magneto, should be born a human.  

So intense was Quicksilver’s consternation over this matter that he attempted to take his infant daughter to the chamber of Terrigen Mists so to have her mutated by way of Terrigenesis.  He was stopped by Lockjaw along with The Thing of The Fantastic Four.  The Thing dissuaded Quicksilver from exposing his daughter to the mists.  The Thing had spent much of his life alienated from society due to his monstrous appearance.  Terrigensis could render young Luna into a similar form and The Thing convinced Quicksilver not to take this risk and threaten his daughter’s chances of a normal, happy childhood. 

Her humanity notwithstanding, Quicksilver soon came to love his daughter as much as her mother did.  Unfortunately, being the human granddaughter of Magneto put her at considerable risk.  Exodus, the powerful Mutant leader of the Acolytes (a Mutant supremacy sect), set out to abduct Luna as a means of consolidating power.  After realizing that Luna was human, Exodus declared her an abomination and attempted to kill her. Exodus was defeated and Luna was saved by her parents along with the assistance of The Avengers and The X-Men. 

Luna’s parents eventually separated and they worked out a joint custody arrangement whereby Luna would spend half her time with her mother on Attilan, and the other half with her father, residing on Mount Wundagore (home of the High Evolutionary).   It was a happy childhood and Luna made many friends, both among the Inhumans of Attilan as well as the evolved animal beings of Wundagore.  

Luna had two nannies while living on Attilan.  First there was Maya whose powers enabled her to project pockets of swirling air.  Black Bolt had chosen Maya to look after Luna because her powers allowed her to protect Luna from the polluted air of earth.  Maya was later replaced by Marilla, who had been the nanny to Luna’s mother and aunt.  Tragically, Marilla was killed by Iron Man whilst under the mental control of Kang the Conquerer.

Some time later, Luna’s father lost his mutant powers in the wake of M-Day (where roughly 90% of the Earth’s Mutant population were mystically de-powered).  Desperate to regain these powers, Quicksilver snuck into Attilan and exposed himself to the Terrigen Mists.  Terrigenesis imbued Quicksilver with the ability to travel short distances through time.  He then stole a large cache of the crystals and coerced his daughter to return with him to New York.  

Hidden away in an apartment in Manhattan, Quicksilver outfitted a device that allowed one to breath in the Terrigen Mists through a retrofitted oxygen tank.  He used this device to have Luna exposed to the mists.  Terrigenesis endowed Luna with the ability to see and read the emotional auras of others.   Hoping to further augment his daughter’s powers, Quicksilver had Luna breath in the mists successive times.  This indeed acted to enhance Luna’s abilities, making her a functional empath, able to read and manipulate the emotions of others; yet it additionally left her effectively addicted to the Terrigen Mists and being denied the mists caused Luna to experience severe withdrawal pains.  

Unsure how to handle the addiction he had unwittingly subjected his daughter to, Quicksilver took Luna back to Attilan and left her in the care of her mother, Crystal.  Inhuman physicians were able to cure Luna of the addiction, although she maintained some degree of her heightened powers.  Karnak helped to train Luna to utilize her abilities to read auras as an asset to her skills as a combatant. 

Being able to read and understand the emotions of others seemed to accelerate Luna’s psychological maturation.  She became a much more serious and solemn child, very compassionate and kind, but no longer as happy and carefree as she once was.  It was as if the exposure to all of the different emotions of others caused her to know and understand things well ahead of other children her age; and this enhanced knowledge has essentially robed her of the joyful innocence of childhood.  

Maximus later tricked Luna into using her newfound powers to undo the mental shackles that suppressed his own manipulative powers.  Freed from these bonds, Maximus staged yet another coup in an effort to dethrone his brother, Black Bolt, and take the crown for himself.  Angry and remorseful over being tricked in such a way, Luna attempted to make amends by using her abilities to help the king’s son, Ahura, gain grater control of his mental abilities and thus cure him of his alleged madness. 

Following his theft of the Terrigen Crystals, Luna’s father was dubbed a traitor of the highest order.  After the events of the Skrulls’ near-successful invasion of Earth, Quicksilver returned to Attilan and explained to the Royal Family that he was innocent.  He stated that the being who stole the crystals was actually a Super Skrull imposter who had taken on the guise of Quicksilver as part of a plot to cripple the Inhumans capacities for Terrigenesis.  Many Inhumans had been similarly replaced with Skrull imposters, including Black Bolt himself, and Crystal and the others believed Quicksilver’s claim.  With her abilities to read emotional auras, however, Luna was able to tell that her father was lying.  Luna whispered to her father that she knew the truth, that he had never been replaced with a Skrull imposter.  She added that she would keep her father’s secret, but that it would forever cost him the respect of his daughter.  

Quicksilver later admitted his false claims and recanted this tale of being replaced by a Skrull.  Although this made Quicksilver a pariah once again on Attilan, it won him back the love and respect of his daughter.  

Luna was a student for a short while at The Future Foundation.  While with The FF, Luna made a dear friend in Adolf The Impossible Boy who shared in her love of Shojo Anime.  Luna assisted The Future Foundation in a battle against Doctor Doom, piloting a Thing-suit android via remote control alongside Adolf and the other FF students.  

Some time thereafter, Luna decided to spend time with her father in his duties with the latest iteration of X-Factor.   She had visited her dad without her mother’s consent and, at first, Crystal was worried that Quicksilver had once again abducted their daughter.  Gorgon was sent to take care of Quicksilver and return Luna to Attilan.  This resulted in a short battle between Gorgon and X-Factor which ended when Crystal arrived and Luna explained that she had come to see her father of her own volition.  

Luna was enrolled in the prestigious Braddock Academy of the United Kingdom, a boarding school for students with extraordinary gifts and abilities.  Her parents had believed that such a school located in England might result in fewer threats to safety as so frequently bedevil similar institutions, such as The Xavier School, The Future Foundation and The Avengers Academy.  Yet it turned out that The Braddock Academy was no different and the students and faculty had to contend with all manner of threats and subsequent perilous adventures.  

Luna did not care for the academy, she dropped out and had Lockjaw take her aboard the RIV where she was just in time to help set up a surprise birthday party for her mom.  Luna remained on The RIV until its destruction during the initial salvos of the Inhumans/X-Men War.  

Luna was later seen living on New Attilan following the war.  Her mother, Crystal had decided to venture off into space with the other Royals in search of a new source of Terrigen to secure the future of their people and way of life.  Luna was left in the care of Lockjaw and told to seek out her Uncle Karnak if ever she needed assistance (a terrible idea).  

Fortunately, Lockjaw was able to keep Luna safe and prevented her being taken into custody when New Attilan fell at the beginning of the Secret Empire ordeal.   Luna was most recently seen back in her mother’s care on the new Inhuman city of New Arctillan on the dark side of the moon.  She has also made a brief appearance in the Quicksilver miniseries.  

What the future holds for young Luna remains to be seen.  

#Inhumans #Inhuman of The Day #Luna #Crystal #Quicksilver